DanMargarita.com

February 24, 2010

Terror, Inc.

Congratulations to the U.S. Marines who recently captured what appears to have been Taliban headquarters, in Afghanistan. Although, from what they seem to have collected, we might soon find the Taliban and Al Qaeda listed in the Yellow Pages.

Several news outlets noted that among the items captured were: photos of fighters posing with AK 47’s (mind you, only two at a time can fit into those photo booths at the mall with AK 47’s), ID cards, diplomas and Taliban letterhead stationary.

Letterhead stationary?

Perhaps instead of storming Taliban headquarters, the Marines could’ve just staked out the local Staples store. It must be a little weird to see Taliban or Al Qaeda stationary.

“From the desk of Osama bin Laden….

Dear Mullah Omar,
Kill more infidels.
Yours,
O.”

I suppose that the stationary would include some sort of logo, whatever that might be. A beard, maybe? Whereas Frosted Flakes had Tony the Tiger, the Taliban could have Tariq the Terrorist.

“Heeeee’s brrrrruuuuutal!”

I’m not sure if bin Laden has a “Dumb Things A Gotta Do” list on the wall of his cave.

“1.) Send robes to be dry-cleaned.
2.) Have sandals repaired.
3.) Record “Death to the Great Satan” message.”

As for diploma’s, their graduation party would make “Animal House” look like an English tea party (meaning actually having tea and not propagating lies that President Obama wants to kill your grandmother).

Graduates of these terror training camps, or Terror University (“T.U.”), likely have their own cheers.

“Osama bin Laden, he’s our man! If he can’t kill you, no one can!”

Although, I imagine that students who pass the “Suicide Bombing:101” class never actually get to graduate.

Their hazing rituals are probably pretty tough ones to pass.

In fairness, the Taliban has embarked on a public relations campaign in recent months, even so far as having issued a “code of conduct.”

The directive tells members avoid causing civilian casualties and forbids “the severing of ears, nose and lips.”

Boy, and you thought Tiger Woods had an uphill battle to rehabilitate his image.

Well, that edict is something you want to put right up front in this campaign.

“The Taliban…we no longer will cut off your lips, nose or ears!”

I don’t see why they don’t just take out an ad during next year’s Super Bowl.

There is a difference between The Taliban and Al Qaeda, though. The latter is headed (or should I say “be-headed,” smirk, smirk) by Osama bin Laden, who frankly, seems more of a figurehead these days, sort of like George Steinbrenner (I’m sure I’m not the first to make that comparison). Indeed, if Billy Martin were still alive, he might now be working for Al Qaeda. I can just see Osama bin Laden coming out for Old Timer’s Day to throw out the first hand grenade.

Mr. bin Laden still pops up from time to time, releasing some audiotape just to let people know he’s still alive. At this point, he now seems like a petulant child at Grandma’s birthday party who’s annoyed that the adults are no longer paying attention to him and desperate to get the spotlight back.

All of this comes on the heels of the capture of Abdul Ghani Baradar, considered the number two (“Who does number two work for?!”) man in the Taliban, behind Mullah Omar. In fact, he has been described as the CEO of the Taliban; all the more reason to dislike him. He probably gave himself a big bonus (that bonus being getting the best spot in Osama’s cave).

It’s been reported that one plan the Allies have is to turn some of the less hardcore Taliban, those that are simply in it for the money, to come over to our side. It seems that the Taliban and Al Qaeda merely pay better.

Well, with unemployment in this country at it’s highest point in decades, it good to know there are at least some jobs available.

Posted by dmargarita at 12:07 AM

February 13, 2010

Happy Valentine's Day!

Hello Gang,
I just want to wish you all a Happy Valentine's Day (note that I was careful not to say "Happy V.D."). I want to share a love song with you all, as members of this site you get the premiere of this touching love song on Valentine's Day Weekend called, "Now That We've Seen Each Other Naked." Don't let the title fool you, It's really quite sweet. Here's the link to my myspace page where the song resides. Just click on the link, and scroll to the bottom.
http://www.myspace.com/danmargaritamusic

Posted by dmargarita at 4:33 PM

February 11, 2010

Gulu Gulu

Hello Gang,
If you're not doing anything on Thursday, March 4th at 8:00 p.m. I'll be performing (co-headlining) at the Gulu Gulu Cafe in Salem, Ma. I'll be joined by the wonderfully weird and funky Astro Al. For more details check the club website http://www.gulu-gulu.com/

Posted by dmargarita at 11:02 PM

February 7, 2010

A New Song!

Hey Gang,
Here's a new song I just finished recording. It's called "What Were You Thinking, Jerry Lee?" about the great early rocker Jerry Lee Lewis, who ruined his career by marrying a girl who was not only 13 years old and his cousin, but he had not divorced his previous wife at the time. Here's the link to my myspace page which contains the song. Just click on this link) or paste it in your browser) and scroll to the bottom and give it a listen.
http://www.myspace.com/danmargaritamusic
Dan

Posted by dmargarita at 2:33 PM

January 11, 2010

Great Balls of Fire!

By now you’ve probably heard that a Nigerian man on a flight landing in Detroit on Christmas Day, attempted to detonate a bomb sown into his underwear, which may explain why prior to boarding your plane you may now be asked, “Is that a bomb in your underwear, or are you just happy to see me?”

News reports have stated that Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab, 23, was trained in Yemen, by a branch of Al Qaeda. It’s good to see that Al Qaeda is opening branch offices, because you can’t always get downtown to meet your terrorist needs.

Early speculation (by me) considered the possibility that he attempted suicide when he looked out the window and saw Detroit. Fortunately, alert passengers saw Abdulmutallab’s pants ablaze and quickly reacted, preventing his underwear from going off (There’s a sentence I never thought I’d say).

Mr. Abdulmutallab was not only unsuccessful in his task, he showed himself to be perhaps not the brightest star on the Christmas tr…okay, bad analogy. With trousers fuming, a flight attendant reportedly asked what he had in his pocket.

“Explosive device,” was his alleged reply.

Generally, suicide bombers don’t announce their intentions before doing their deed. Mind you, the successful ones don’t do any explaining afterwards.

This was after spending 20 minutes in the bathroom, which didn’t seem to arouse suspicion. Usually, when someone spends 20 minutes in the bathroom, it’s because of bad airplane food or joining the mile-high club.

Abdullah Asieria, a suicide bomber who attempted to assassinate a Saudi Arabian prince last year, certainly went above and beyond for his cause. He managed to get past security by putting his bomb where nobody was going to think of searching. Let’s just say it’s the punchline to the joke, “Rectum? Damn near killed ‘em!”

Mr. Asieri spent 30 hours near his target before setting it off. Think about that….30 hours concealing an explosive device there. I guess it didn’t seem suspicious when he lit that fuse. Considering where he was concealing the device, he must’ve moved around the room like he was a Minister of Silly Walks. I’m guessing that with an explosive device where the “sun don’t shine” for 30 hours, his disposition wasn’t the most pleasant, prompting the question, “What’s up his ass?”

Remarkably, he barely wounded the Saudi prince, but did manage to cause a mess. I mean, there was shit everywhere.

BA-DA-BOOM!

If the actions of Richard Reid, aka “The Shoe Bomber” resulted in us removing our shoes before getting on a plane, they may now resort to security agencies calling in the bum-sniffing dogs.

There have been calls from the political right to resort to racial profiling for potential flyers, but it wouldn’t have helped catch Reid, who was British, or Abdulmutallab, who was Nigerian. However, this could prove to be a hassle for the guy who plays the grapes in the Fruit of the Loom commercials.

Several proverbial red flags were missed in catching Abdulmutallab, including the fact that someone typing it onto the no-fly list misspelled his name. Either that person didn’t think to or was unable to do what I did in writing that name…copying and pasting. Hell, even Google questions your spelling when you screw up.

“Did you mean Elvis Presley?”

The most conspicuous gaffe was that that bomber’s dad contacted the U.S. Embassy, noting that his son was missing and had become radicalized. Common sense should’ve put U.S. security agencies on alert, not to mention that it was also the plot of a classic Leave it to Beaver episode.

“Now Beaver, always wear clean underwear in case you have to blow up a plane.”

Mr. Abdulmutallab apparently had the device sewn into his underwear, hidden “near his testicles” (that’s reported by Reuters, so don’t blame me). I’m sure somewhere a DHS agent will chuckle if you search Google for “bomber” & “near his testicles.”

Little did Jerry Lee Lewis realize that his song “Great Balls of Fire!” would someday take on a literal meaning.

Flyers used to be offered the choice of a “smoking” or “non-smoking” seat on an airport. It used to refer to cigarettes, not genitalia.

The real question here is, were they boxers or briefs?

Posted by dmargarita at 2:23 PM

December 28, 2009

2009: The Year in Review

The year 2009 is about to conclude, which means it’s time for me to once again do my annual year in review, which I do every year, hence the word “annual” (like that joke).

Jan. 15---A U.S. Airways plane crashes into the Hudson River shortly after takeoff after Canadian geese get caught in the engine. The FBI later finds that the geese left behind jihadi suicide videos.

Jan. 20---Barak Obama is sworn in as the 44th President of the United States, becoming the first black president of the country, as well as the first Kenyan-born and Muslim president.

Jan. 29---Illinois Governor Rod Blagojevich is removed from office after allegedly trying to sell President Barak Obama’s vacant senate seat. Blagojevich was not only impeached by the House of Representatives of Illinois, he’d also been a member (SEE: Hair Club for Men).

Feb. 17---President Obama signs the stimulus bill, to try and save or create 3.5 million jobs. Unfortunately, many of the jobs created are “birthers.”

Apr. 13---U.S. Navy snipers kill three Somali pirates who were holding an American ship captain hostage. Pirates are unable to see snipers due to their eye patches.

Jun. 1---General Motors files for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection, but only after discussing it with their managers.

Jun. 12---Iranian president Mahmoud Ahmadinejad defeats challenger Mir-Hossein Mousav in a presidential race, largely believed to be ridden by fraud. Ahmadinejad claims 66% of the vote, but in reality has 666%. Part of the problem is with hanging Chad’s…and Ahmed’s and Jamaal’s. The U.S. Supreme Court rules 5-4 in favor of Ahmadinejad.

Jun. 25---Michael Jackson, “The King of Pop,” dies of an apparent overdose of medication in an attempt to sleep. Remarkably, Keith Richard continues to live.

Jun. 26---South Carolina Governor Mark Sanford (R), admits to “Hiking the Appalachian Trail” with a woman in Argentina. Sanford initially claims that he was spreading his “Family Values” philosophy in South America and calls it his “La Familia Valora” Tour. After publicly confessing to the affair and apologizing to his wife Jenny, he then refers to the Argentinean woman as his “soul mate.” Eventually, he will refer to Jenny Sanford as his “ex-wife.”

Jun. 25---Ponzi scheme king Bernard Madoff is sentenced to 150 years in jail for his fraud scheme. Madoff vows that with good behavior, he’ll be out in 127 years.

Jul. 17---Legendary CBS Newsman Walter Cronkite passes away at age 92. Cronkite dies peacefully, surrounded by his family. And that’s the way it was.

Jul. 24—The Cash for Clunkers program begins. Many married people mistakenly try to trade in their spouse.

Jul. 26---Alaska Governor Sarah Palin announces her resignation, to become….well, that remains to be seen. “I’m not a quitter,” Palin later tells the press, after quitting midway through her term. Palin also says she can do more for Alaska by not being in charge of it.

Jul. 30---Harvard Professor Henry Louis Gates and Police Sergeant James Crowley meet President Obama at the White House for a “Beer Summit,” after Crowley’s controversial arrest of Gates, sparking racial tensions. The three don’t solve America’s race problem, but all agree to call for an end to baseball’s “Designated Hitter.”

Aug. 25---Sen. Ted Kennedy dies from cancer at age 72. Pop singer Dion begins rewriting “Abraham, Martin and John.”

Aug. 25---Many legislators conduct Town Hall Meetings to discuss health care reform. Enraged protesters scream “No govt. health care!” while ironically also stating, “Don’t touch my Medicare!”

Sept. 9---During a speech on healthcare by President Obama, Rep. Joe Wilson (R-SC), yells “You lie!” Wilson later apologizes to Obama, who tells him, “I’m rubber, you’re glue. Anything you say bounces off of me and gets stuck to you!”

Oct. 2---President Obama travels to Copenhagen where he singlehandedly loses the Olympics, finishing out of the medal round.

Oct. 9---President Barak Obama is awarded the Nobel Peace Prize, becoming the fourth American president to win the award, as well as the first Kenyan-born Muslim American president to win.

Oct. 15---The family of 6-year-old Falcon Heene admits to staging a hoax in claiming that Falcon was trapped in a runaway balloon, in order to garner publicity in an attempt to get on a reality TV show. Ironically, the Heene’s eventually get on several reality TV shows called, “The Evening News.” The family becomes social pariahs, however, Balloon Boy becomes fast friends with Bubble Boy.

Oct. 28---Department of Homeland Secretary Janet Napolitano conducts a press conference to explain how to deal with the H1N1 or so-called “Swine Flu.” Napolitano ends her speech by saying “Th-th-th-that’s all, folks!”

Nov. 24---Celebrity wannabe’s the Salahi’s crash a state dinner at the White House. While there, the Salahi’s suggest to President Obama that the couples go on a double date and see a play at Ford’s Theater.

Nov. 27---Tiger Woods crashes his car outside his house, after his apparently angry wife Elin, smashes the back window with a golf club. Elin Woods’ drive forces Tiger’s car to slice to the right and into a fire hydrant.

Dec. 10---President Obama receives his Nobel “You’re Not George W. Bush” Peace Prize, just days after announcing that he’s sending 30,000 troops to Afghanistan. Former Vice President Dick Cheney grumbles, “Hell, I got thousands of people killed! Where’s my award?!”

Dec. 25---A Nigerian man tries to blow up a Northwest plane as it attempts to land in Detroit. While authorities speculate that it is a Muslim terrorist plot, the man explains it was merely because he looked out the window and saw Detroit.

There you have some, but not all, of the highlights and lowlights of 2009. Here’s hoping that 2010 is better one for all of us.

Posted by dmargarita at 2:19 PM

December 21, 2009

This Just In…

This just in...The Grinch has been sent to The Hague to be tried for "Crimes against Whomanity."

Posted by dmargarita at 9:14 PM

December 15, 2009

Reindeer Games

“You know Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen; Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen. But do you recall, the most famous reindeer of all?” (Here’s a hint, it isn’t “Adolph”).

Such begins the song Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer as famously sung by cowboy singer Gene Autry.

Many of us of a certain age grew up watching the classic Rankin and Bass animated production of the show of the same name. Whether it is a sign of our age now, or the age that we live in, I find myself reading criticisms of the show and it’s propensity for goofs in continuity on the Internet.

People, this is not a Ken Burns PBS documentary.

If Burns’ World War II documentary, The War claimed that Normandy Beach was stormed exclusively by Catholic nuns, there would deservedly be an outcry for a correction.

Sure, Santa takes off in his sleigh at the end with only six reindeer plus Rudolph. Perhaps two reindeer had negotiated a day off in their union contract. One point of contention is the Misfit Girl Doll, who seemingly has nothing wrong with her. This apparently remained a mystery for years but was finally addressed by Rankin/Bass, who explained (and I’m not making this up) that the Misfit Girl Doll was on the Island of Misfit Toys because she had “psychological” problems. “She feels unloved,” they added. It seems much more of a New Age notion that she was a misfit because she was unable to connect emotionally with another doll.

Mind you, back then there were no commercials for little pills to retrieve you from the throws of depression…or erectile dysfunction (there’s one doll you didn’t see on the Island of Misfit Toys!).

My recollection is that only “boy” reindeer could play in the reindeer games, but isn’t one of the reindeer named Vixen? Doesn’t that indicate a female by definition? Then of course, there’s Prancer, who presumably joined the team under Santa’s “Don’t ask, don’t tell” policy.

The star of the show, other than Rudolph, is Hermie, the elf who wants to become a dentist. He is also the only elf who doesn’t have pointed ears, which probably made him more of an outcast than the fact that he wanted to be a dentist.

That leads us to another quandary as to whether or not Santa ever had kids. Are the elves his kids? If so, the fact that he’s 2000 years old may explain having so many weird looking kids. If they’re not his kids, then what’s the deal? Is Mrs. Claus merely his “beard”?

How come Admiral Byrd didn’t see Santa’s workshop when he flew over the North Pole? Huh? Huh?

I could never figure why Yukon Cornelius was always licking his pick (not as dirty as it sounds) after digging it into the ground. As a child, it made me think you could taste gold and silver. It’s because he wasn’t supposed to be looking for gold or silver, although they are mentioned, but he was apparently looking for a peppermint mine. That would make a lot more sense.

What most people probably don’t know is that the end, where Santa comes back for the Misfit Toys to be delivered to boys and girls, is not the original ending. People who viewed the show as it debuted in 1964 saw Santa fly away and leave the toys there. That prompted a furious letter writing campaign, prompting a new ending, the one we are now familiar with, for the 1965 broadcast. Hopefully the DVD version will include other alternative endings, like the one with Hermie’s venison dinner.

If you’re wondering why Rudolph is never mentioned on Clement Moore’s classic poem ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas, it is because Rudolph didn’t exist until 1939 when he was invented as part of a promotion for the Montgomery Ward department store. Yes, cheap commercialism brought about our beloved song and TV show. Thank God we never got “A Joe Isuzu Christmas.” Perhaps this commercialism what Charlie Brown was complaining about in the 1965 show, A Charlie Brown Christmas.

The “Rudolph” show may have its issues, but they’re fun to discuss. Nevertheless, the show remains an enjoyable memory from my childhood.

I have to admit, I still don’t want a Charlie-in-the-box.

Posted by dmargarita at 3:56 PM

December 10, 2009

Kinda Pregnant

Hello All,

After some prodding, I dug an old song out of the vault and recorded it. It's called "Kinda Pregnant" and it's about seeing things as not being cut & dry or black & white. Here it is for your listening pleasure (I hope).
Peace, love and understanding,
Dan
Scroll down the bottom:
http://www.myspace.com/danmargaritamusic

Posted by dmargarita at 7:56 PM

November 30, 2009

Tiger Not Out of The Woods

Okay, sorry about the bad pun, but let’s get right to it. Tiger Woods is certainly not the first guy to be chased out of his house at 2:00 A.M. by his wife with a golf club, just the most famous.

“Golfing?! At 2:00 A.M.?! I’ll show you golfing at 2:00 A.M.!”

Assuming that you’re not Osama bin Laden and haven’t been living in a cave (although he seems to have his own video access), you’ve probably heard that golfer Tiger Woods recently got into a car accident just outside of his home in Florida. Well, I suppose the term “accident” is relative because we don’t know what actually happened, but boy, aren’t we having fun speculating?

The Woods’ contention is that Tiger, pulling out of his driveway, sliced his car to the right and hit a tree and a fire hydrant.

(Hushed British voice) “And now Tiger is caught between a tree and a fire hydrant. This will be a tough shot to get back onto the driveway.”

No doubt, this may cost him a couple of strokes on his auto insurance premiums.

Tiger’s wife, Elin, then smashed the rear windshield with a golf club, which she just happened to be carrying at the time, to extract Tiger from the vehicle.

Because the couple has refused to give details, we don’t know the exact sequence of events. Perhaps Tiger crashed the car and phoned his wife and said, “Honey, I got in an accident outside the house. Bring a pitching wedge.”

Everyone knows that this shot requires a mashee niblik.

While it’s possible that smashing the rear windshield to extract her husband from the vehicle may have been the most convenient portal, speculation is that she happened to have a golf club and smashed the windshield because she was upset at tabloid rumors that he had an affair and was simply chasing him and the windshield was the closest target.

Florida Highway Patrol Troopers have tried to question the couple, but were turned away three times, once being told by Tiger’s wife that he was sleeping. Since Tiger hasn’t been seen publicly, and there are rumors that his facial lacerations were the result of being socked by her, perhaps authorities should investigate to see that Elin didn’t give Tiger something to make him sleep…permanently.

I’m sure when the police show up at your house to question you, you can just have someone tell them to come back later because you’re sleeping, and it won’t be a problem.

Public relations experts are falling all over themselves declaring that Woods’ is handling this situation very badly. He should “Get out in front of this story” as David Letterman did, when Letterman went on his show and told his audience about being blackmailed.

Mind you, not every celebrity did that. O.J. Simpson never came out and said, “I murdered my wife and her friend. I just want to put this chapter of my life behind me and move on.”

Tiger can still turn this into a positive. While it remains to be seen if this affects his relationship with his myriad of commercial sponsors, one sponsor, Buick, could capitalize on this situation.

“Hi. I’m Tiger Woods. You never know when a jealous spouse is going to come chasing after you with a weapon such as a golf club, but a Buick Rainer can withstand the impact of a nine iron, while smashing into a tree and a fire hydrant at five miles-per-hour with minimal damage.”

At this point Woods has announced that he will not be attending his own upcoming golf tournament. Kind of like the host who invites you to his/her party and then stays upstairs the whole time. Like Dick Cheney, Tiger has opted to stay in the bunker and avoid the press. But Tiger, they ain’t goin’ away.

Whether or not Tiger Woods was having an affair, I don’t know and don’t care. That’s his business. If he were a politician, it might be different but he’s a golfer whose public life has no impact on my life, so I couldn’t care less if he comes clean or not. Unless he drives his car into my tree or his wife smashes my windshield, but neither of those things are likely to happen.

It seems that rather than tell it all and get it over with, he’d rather go with a preferred lie.

Posted by dmargarita at 7:06 PM

November 9, 2009

Dan Margarita (The Song) revised...

Hey All,

I've added a verse to my new song, "Dan Margarita (The Song)." In a "D'uh!" moment, I thought of a verse that I couldn't believe I didn't think of sooner, so I've spent the last two days re-recording it. Here's the link: (Go to the songs and then scroll down):
http://www.myspace.com/danmargaritamusic

Posted by dmargarita at 12:13 PM

October 21, 2009

Up, Up and Go Away!

Well, we all know by now that that the couple who claimed that their son flew away in a balloon are full of helium. Ha! You thought I was going to say, “hot air,” didn’t you?!

Richard and Mayumi Heene, of Colorado, captured the nation’s attention when they claimed that a helium balloon, for reasons of which are as yet to be determined (unless Heene was thinking he was The Wizard of Oz), was in their yard when it lifted off by accident, allegedly carrying their six-year-old son, Falcon. The fact that they would name their son Falcon should’ve been a heads up that this couple was perhaps not playing with a full deck.

Low and behold (or is it “lo and behold?), after flights from Denver Airport were delayed, the Army National Guard deployed a helicopter and the national media had their satellite trucks in the Heenes driveway, the boy appeared, claiming to have hid the attic of their garage. A Brady Bunch moment, if ever there was one.

It was in an interview with CNN’s Wolfe Blitzer (seriously, “Wolfe Blitzer” doesn’t get highlighted by me spell check?) that Falcon coughed up the truth that the family “did this for the show.” If only Wolfe could’ve gotten Dick Cheney to cough up the truth about invading Iraq.

It was on The Today Show, however, that Falcon did more than cough it up; he spit it up, throwing up on live TV, no doubt a video he’ll one day enjoy having played at his wedding. I can’t imagine what Falcon might have confessed to if he’d been waterboarded by Cheney. After all is said and done, I think most of us feel like emulating Falcon on this one.

Celebrity is not new to the Heene’s, having been on the reality TV show Wife Swap. In the ‘70’s that was sort of something swingers did, but now you can have it videotaped.

News reports state that The Heene’s is a self-described “storm chasers.” You can make a living at that? Is that what they write it on their tax form? Must be tough for them to get health and life insurance.

This seems a tad dangerous and bringing your kids into that situation is probably not the most responsible parenting decision.

“Hey, honey, there’s a sniper on Rt. 391. Let’s take the kids there to get a look!”

According to one news report, the Heene’s are listed on a promotion for Wife Swap which says "When the Heene family aren't chasing storms, they devote their time to scientific experiments that include looking for extraterrestrials and building a research-gathering flying saucer to send into the eye of the storm. In this ultimate swap, the Heenes swap lives with a psychic mom who speaks to the dead and can control the weather, her husband and her children -- who believe they are destined to be star."

I can’t guess at what “scientific experiments” the Heene’s are involved with, but I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that they will not be the ones who cure cancer.

Well, Mr. and Mrs. Heene, congratulations. You are famous after all. However, that’s quite different from being “infamous,” which you’ve also become.

This is probably not the kind of fame they envisioned, though. They are looking at the very least at misdemeanor charges being filed, and quite possibly federal charges, not to mention reimbursing authorities for the expenses incurred in looking for a child who wasn’t actually missing (hiding in the attic doesn’t count).

Personally, I think they should be sent to The Hague for committing crimes against humanity.

Falcon Heene is only six-years old, and thus managed to be both a willing participant and also an innocent victim at the same time. I suspect that one day he’ll be spending serious time on a therapist’s couch.

Kid, you should’ve picked better parents.

Posted by dmargarita at 12:42 PM

October 7, 2009

Apples To Apples

Autumn is apple season, so not only would it be appropriate to write about apples but to write about it on my Mac laptop, made by Apple Computers.

This year marks the 235th birthday of legendary character Johnny Appleseed, whose real name was not “Appleseed,” (Oh, are you one of the Leominster Appleseeds?”) but in fact, John Chapman. It was his fellow frontiersman who nicknamed him “Appleseed,” being the clever sort that they were.
Appleseed…uh, Chapman, was indeed born in Leominster, Mass., just before the American Revolution.

The legend of Johnny Appleseed is that he walked around, sprinkling seeds about in hopes that apple trees would grow. As a person who has a black thumb (plastic flowers manage to die under my care), even I would guess that it probably takes a little more work than that to start an orchard. Indeed, the many websites devoted to Johnny Appleseed (not everything online is pornographic or videos of guys being hit in the groin) say that has was a skilled nursery man, who made money on his botany endeavors.

He didn’t spend his money on luxury items, though. He made his clothes from sacks, slept outdoors, walked around barefoot and wore a tin pot on his head. Come to think of it, I’ve seen guys wearing similar attire in Harvard Square. They usually weren’t planting apple trees, though. More likely they were talking to themselves.

He often gave his money to charity or used it to further his work planting orchards. Every account online indicates that he was a gentle, peaceful man who befriended both the Native Americans and the settlers, and would sometimes be a peacemaker between the two. Hey, when a barefoot guy wearing a sack and a tin pot on his head is the voice of reason, maybe you need to reconsider your issues.

He certainly was resourceful, making drinking water by melting snow with his feet. Presumably, this occurred more often in the wintertime. What he was able to make with his frostbitten toes isn’t on record.

One website says that the type of apple that he grew was called (and I’m not making this up), Rambo. I guess it would have been less macho-sounding if Sylvester Stallone called his First Blood Viet Nam veteran character “John Red Delicious.”

Another site claims that Chapman was a hero. During the War of 1812 local settlers in Ohio were concerned that the Indians would attack after a shopkeeper was killed. (Sure, blame the Indians). Johnny Appleseed then ran 26 miles for help. At least that’s what he told them.

“Yeah, I’ll go for help. Which way is Canada? See ya.”

Running 26 miles is tough enough, as we witness in Boston every Patriot’s Day, but doing it in bare feet, without the opportunity to load up on carbs the day before, or someone waiting with a cup of water every few miles, is unfathomable. On the other hand, if someone is chasing you with a tomahawk, with the intent of scalping you, you might be able to dig down deep for that extra something to carry you along. Boston’s Heartbreak Hill would definitely seem like less of an obstacle.

They say “an apple a day keeps the doctor away,” and that seems to have been true for Chapman. He apparently was only sick once in his 70 years, that being the time when he died of pneumonia. That’s what happens when you continue to melt snow with your feet.

His mother died when he was very young, and thus he never had her nagging him to put some shoes on.

“You’ll catch your death of cold!”

Many of the trees that Appleseed/Chapman planted are still bearing fruit. Leominster is still around, too.

Posted by dmargarita at 12:15 PM

September 21, 2009

Kanye Interruptus

It’s official, Kanye West is a jackass. That’s not just me talking, it’s the President of the United States. Oh, no he di'n't!

I honestly haven’t watched MTV much, at least not since they stopped playing “M” on their channel, so I didn’t see the infamous incident where Kanye West jumped on stage during the MTV Video Award show and took the microphone from winner Taylor Swift and announced that singer Beyonce had “one of the greatest videos of all time.”

Ah, if only Kanye had run onto the field to take the ball out of the N.Y. Jets quarterback’s hands and declared that Tom Brady was one of the greatest QB’s of all time, but I digress.

Not having seen it live, I was puzzled by all of the buzz on Facebook not long after the incident took place.

“Kanye’s an ass,” seemed to be the consensus.

Well, yeah, we knew that (and the president later confirmed it). Still, with the amount of discussion on FB, I knew something was up and soon learned of the classless man’s classless act.

It’s not the first time he’s done these publicity-seeking hijinks, but it backfired wildly and West was forced to humble himself on Jay Leno’s new show, apologizing profusely. It could’ve been worse; he could’ve been torn to shreds by the ladies of The View.

That’s the entertainment world, however and there are worse places he could’ve been a jackass, historically speaking. It’s a good thing he wasn’t at Gettysburg while President Lincoln was saying, “Four score and seven years ago…” to step in front of Lincoln to announce, “Great speech, Mr. President but Frederick Douglass had one of the greatest speeches of all time!”

Going further back it would’ve been rough to see him interrupt Thomas Jefferson as he read the Declaration of Independence.

“We the people…”

Although, I suppose Jefferson would’ve asked Kanye if he had any good looking sisters he could “date.”

Worse, Kanye could’ve been at the Last Supper, saying “Great speech, Jesus, but Aristotle had one of the greatest speeches of all time!”

The fact that Kanye West has declared himself the voice of his generation should’ve given us an idea that that his MTV antics shouldn’t have come as a big surprise. To paraphrase the old saying about “class,” if you have to announce that you’re the voice of a generation, you’re probably not. That’s for others to decide and declare and most people, like Bob Dylan, tend to reject that notion and the burden it carries.

Rudeness by a spotlight-hogging celebrity is one thing, but when it comes from a member of congress, it’s another matter.

This brings us to South Carolina representative Joe Wilson, who now famously yelled, “You lie!” at President Obama during his speech to a joint session of congress recently.

Before getting to the substance of it, I have to note that before this, if you mentioned the name Joe Wilson, I would’ve thought you were either talking about Valerie Plame’s husband, or Dennis the Menace’s grouchy neighbor.

Considering that H.R. 3200, Section 246 is titled “No Federal payment for undocumented aliens,” it would seem to disprove Wilson’s claim. Of course if Wilson had been watching Fox News, he might honestly believe it. Fox is not known for their accuracy in reporting, especially when a Republican politician gets involved a sex scandal. A number of times they’ve identified GOP pols with a “D” next to their names, with regard to Gov. Mark Sanford and Rep. Mark Foley.

In no one’s recollection has a member of congress yelled out or called the president a liar during a speech. Normally, even when members of congress criticize each other, it is done with at least an appearance of civility, and in the third person.

“If my liberal friend would kindly remove his head from his rectum…”

How can we expect celebrities to be polite if we can’t even get our elected leaders to be polite?

Anyway, I’d better end this before Kanye comes in and interrupts me. I just hope he's not nearby if and when I have a honeymoon.

Posted by dmargarita at 5:49 PM

September 9, 2009

About Facebook

I have a confession to make…lately, I’ve been getting “faced” a lot. No, not drunk, but spending a lot of time on the social networking site Facebook.

I was well behind everyone, first on getting a computer and then well behind on joining the networking site Myspace (and as popular as these sites now are, they are apparently new enough that my old Microsoft Word program highlights them as non-existent words). Just when I finally got on Myspace, it seemed like that was no longer the “hip” thing and by now everybody had moved to a new site called “Facebook.” Please don’t tell me that my bell-bottom pants and Nehru jacket will go out of style.

Not that I have ever had any aspirations of being hip (that boat has long ago sailed), but as a writer/singer/comedian and whatever, it seems like these sites would be good for me to get my work out there to be seen/read/heard, or whatever. As you can see, these sites have clearly vaulted me to national prominence.

So who determines exactly what is hip and what must be purchased or seen? Teenagers….

Yup, adolescents with acne, burgeoning facial hair or blossoming breasts, whose most frequently used word is “like,” (and not in comparing things, but as a filler word) are in many ways, the ones running this country. The sad thing is that they don’t even know it.

Movies, music, TV shows and especially fashion, is increasingly geared to these citizens who have the disposable income to buy these things that their parents would rather spend on items like food, electricity or health insurance.

Have you tried to buy a pair of shorts lately? Teenage boys walk around with trousers that fall somewhere between the knee and the ankle. They’re not exactly shorts, but they’re not quite pants, either. They’re ports or…shants (okay, I understand why Word highlighted “shants”). Out of these teenage boys that wear the ports…or shants, half of them wear them low enough to let the public know if they’re also wearing Calvin Klein, Fruit of the Loom or Underoos.

Alas, the newest technological wonder seems to be Twitter. Yes, I finally broke down and joined Twitter, although it went against every instinct in my body. Members of congress have been known to “tweet” from the middle of presidential speeches. A “tweet” of course, is what a message posted on Tweeter is called. You can actually do it from your phone. Well, maybe you can do it but I can’t. I have enough trouble Tweeting on my computer, much less my cell phone. I hear about Twitter not working sometimes, so I don’t know if, when I have trouble posting, it’s not working or I just screwed up trying to post something. If Tweeter is always screwing up, that could be it but I have so little faith in my tech ability that I’m just going to assume it’s me.

Twitter only allows 140 characters to be posted (if you can post them!), so it becomes necessary to abbreviate and use symbols. In other words, everything you learned about spelling and grammar in school you can just toss out the window.

In fact, when people started sending email slang, it confused the hell out of me. When I got my first email emoticon, (huh…Word accepted that) I didn’t recognize the sideways smiley face as a smiley face. I assumed they leaned on the keyboard and didn’t realize it, or had a seizure. And yet, as I try to types the emoticon smiley face here, Word prints it out as an actual smiley face!

Some tweets (not to be confused with “twits”) are simply too hard to read.

“0I8B4U” is “Oh, I ate before you.”

Shakespeare must be rolling in his grave.

“2b or not 2b.”

It’s not like people seem to write important stuff on Twitter or sometimes on Facebook, but they feel the need to let us know about every mundane thing they do.

“Going to have a tuna sandwich for lunch.”

Even Hemingway couldn’t have gotten that published.

Okay, it’s time to go to bed now.

I’m sorry, “OK its time 2 go 2 zzzz now.”

LOL!!

Posted by dmargarita at 1:13 PM

August 25, 2009

Y Not?

Congratulations go out to Caster Semenya of South Africa, who won the gold medal in the women’s 800-meter race at the World Athletics Championship. The only thing she apparently needs to do now, is prove that she’s a woman.

According to several media outlets, there has been murmuring that her deep voice, muscular build and astonishing records are due to the fact that she is actually a man.

Is this poor sportsmanship, racism or sexism? Probably a bit of all three, but elite athletes have certainly been questioned about their true gender before. People of a certain age will remember the snickering over the “female” athletes of the former Eastern Bloc, whose masculinity made them appear more imposing than the famed “Steel Curtain” defense of the great Pittsburgh Steelers teams of the 1970’s.

Only after the fall of the Berlin Wall did we officially learn that these poor creatures (I can only describe them that way) were, unbeknownst to them, given steroids, which caused those masculine appearances and later, major health issues. They wouldn’t have looked out of place with bolts on their necks.

Some pre-steroid era attempts were made to just plain cheat in the 1936 Berlin Olympics. Polish sprinter Stella Walsh, dubbed “Stella the Fella” at the time, was discovered upon her autopsy, to possess male genitalia. That is, she was a man, not some bizarre collector of male genitalia.

The Nazi’s, eager to prove the superiority of the Third Reich, entered a high jumper named Dora Ratjen, who later turned out to be a man named Hermann. I guess you could say she was “Dora the Gender Explorer.”

At least Dora/Hermann gave up the ruse after the Olympics, while spent Stella kept up the masquerade until her death. Whether that was simply a lifestyle choice or a reluctance to admit that he’d competed against women in the Olympics, is unknown.

It didn’t work anyway, as Dora/Hermann finished fourth, meaning that he probably had to endure taunting from his friends for being beaten by three girls.

“’I thought something was a bit funny,’ recalled one athlete, ‘because she had a deep voice and snored in her sleep. What's more, she also had to shave her face,’” quotes the British newspaper the Daily Mail.

This does not appear to have been the case with Semenya, as medical science is now aware of medical conditions in which gender identity is not so clear-cut. Oh, the things you can find out on the Internet.

The Mail also rhetorically mused, “Surely, one would think, determining one's sex is as simple as removing one's underwear and taking a look.”

Apparently not. Maybe one should look at the underwear itself to find out. Is it a jock strap or a jogging bra?

Another UK paper, The Guardian (The Brits seem much more up on the kinky stuff then us Yanks), one in 15,000 people born have a condition where they are born with male XY chromosomes instead of female XX chromosomes, but due to a protein mutation, appear as female. This means that next time you’re at a ballgame at Fenway Park, there will be two people there who might seem like attractive women, but are actually dudes.

“They would look and behave like a girl," Birmingham University Professor Wiebke Arlt told the Guardian, specifically referring to people with this condition, and not women at Fenway Park.

"Many models and film stars have this disorder. They are very tall and slender featured, very beautiful with peachy skin,” he added.

And you thought it was all plastic surgery.

Conversely, the opposite can be true and a condition called congenital adrenal hyperplasia may cause one to “look on the outside like a boy," says Arlt, "but once a month they may have blood in their urine.”

The teenage years are tough enough for anyone to deal with, never mind finding out that you’re not the gender you thought you were.

Traditionally, children born with duel sex characteristics have been known derisively as “hermaphrodites.” With modern medicine making the public aware that this is a natural, albeit unfortunate and rare condition, they are now referred to more compassionately as being “intersex.”

Fortunately, we live in an age when many of these issues can be discovered early and corrected.

When the next Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue comes out, I will certainly look at it with a jaundiced eye…but I will look at it.

Posted by dmargarita at 12:47 PM

August 15, 2009

Discount Variety Show

Hey Gang,

Just a reminder that I’ll be performing a show this coming Thursday night at the CinemaSalem Café in Salem (surprise), Mass. At 8:00. I’ll be performing songs from my forthcoming CD “Kill The Messenger." I’ll paste the info and a link to my video below,

Thanks,
Dan

Discount Variety
Thursday, August 20
CinemaSalem Cafe
One East India Square
Salem, Ma
8PM - 10PM
Admission: $5

Dan Margarita: After a career in stand-up comedy, working at clubs and colleges across the nation with such noted comedians as Judy Tenuta, Lenny Clarke, Steve Sweeney, Jimmy Tingle and Barry Crimmins, Dan Margarita has turned his focus to music. His forthcoming CD Kill The Messenger, contains songs with humor, personal loss and social commentary.

Josh Gondelman: An unabashed dork, Josh Gondelman consistently earns the right to hang out with the cool kids by making them laugh until they snort milk out their noses. Josh blends a sharp and quirky sense of humor with a genuine good nature, the result of which is a hilarious and accessible blend of “some holds barred” comedy. Josh is the comedian that your grandmother would love, even if she didn’t get the jokes. Josh just finished his degree in English and Creative Writing at Brandeis University, and he performs standup, sketch, and improv comedy at clubs, colleges, and theaters all over the country. Josh Gondelman. He can talk smart without sounding smarmy. He can talk family without sounding familiar. And he can talk sex without being sexy. Wait. Scratch that last one. He’s very sexy. Just don’t tell grandma.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OSsPTgrEUpU

Posted by dmargarita at 3:55 PM

August 11, 2009

Macca Gets Back-a!

Paul McCartney maybe a grandfather (and possibly a great-grandfather, for all I know), but he can still rock & roll.

The hassle of the MBTA’s Green Line didn’t deter me from grabbing a last minute ticket to see the former Beatle at Boston’s Fenway Park this evening. Hell, these days if I get to my destination alive via the Green Line, that qualifies as a success.

I’m guessing that my grousing about the service, or lack thereof, at the MBTA Lechmere stop on the Green Line probably had nothing to do with agency head Dan Grabauskas resigning the next day. However, it may have been my grousing about the two-car trains going only as far as Park Street Station on the way back that did it. Then again, it was more likely the deaths, injuries and millions of dollars in damage caused by incompetent or negligent train drivers that forced him to resign.

I wasn’t planning on going to McCartney’s first show but after hearing that tickets were still available, I went online and grabbed the cheapest ticket possible.

Normally a right field roof box seat might not be the most desirable for a concert at Fenway, but after a 91 degree, humid and sweltering day, the breezes this locale provided made it better than the more expensive seats.

When the Beatles famously played Shea Stadium in 1965, not only could the fans seated in the stands (and not on the field like Fenway) barely see the Beatles but also couldn’t hear them over their own screams. For that matter, the Beatles, playing a stadium before stadium sound system technology was invented, couldn’t even hear themselves. Fortunately for me that problem has been overcome and the booming sound and large screens made my distant vantage point irrelevant.

McCartney had all the veteran rock star points down pat, clearly doing his homework in making the proper references.

“Is that the Green Monster?” and then “Is that Ted’s red seat?” he inquired, along with other frequent mentions of Fenway and the Red Sox.

He came on promptly at 8:00 p.m. and played a solid two-and-a-half hour set, which included two or three encores, peppering the show with songs from his vast Beatles and solo career. The Liverpudlian also threw in some new songs, a couple of which were pretty good. McCartney didn’t make the mistake that even many veteran rockers make, however. Too often performers introduce a new song with a phrase like, “This one’s from our new album” which to many in the crowd serves as a cue that it’s a good time to go and take a leak. People come to hear the songs they know and love.

Sure, the majority of the crowd were recipients of the AARP newsletter, but there were a few younger people there as well, as McCartney noted. Not that time hasn’t taken a bit of a toll on some of the high notes that Macca strained to reach, but the fact that he’s willing to try for them is admirable.

The next night’s show, McCartney followed almost the exact if not the exact same song set, as well as most of the same jokes and stories. He even mentioned Babe Ruth along with Ted Williams. If he had mentioned Jimmy Piersall, I really would’ve been impressed. He certainly was given the proper notes to hit, and I don’t just mean musically.

I’m wondering if I perform on the road if I’ll have to learn the local landmarks and references.

“Hello, Bradford-on-Avon, United Kingdom. It’s great to be here at Kensington Stadium. Is that where Graham Gooch scored 40 wickets against Winsley?”

McCartney appeared a bit tired the second show but being a solid professional, he soldiered on and gave the crowd their money’s worth. Doing two shows in a row at his age is admirable but certainly must be exhausting.

Just try and picture your parents or grandparents at age 67 grabbing an electric guitar and rocking out with songs like “Helter Skelter” or “I’m Down.”

I hope that when I’m his age I get to do something I love and get paid for it. I hope at my age I get to do something I love and get paid for it. Hell, I hope that I get to his age, period.

Posted by dmargarita at 12:13 AM

August 6, 2009

Macca Rocks Fenway!

Paul McCartney maybe a grandfather (and possibly a great-grandfather, for all I know), but he can still rock & roll.

The hassle of the MBTA’s Green Line didn’t deter me from grabbing a last minute ticket to see the former Beatle at Boston’s Fenway Park this evening. Hell, these days if I get to my destination alive via the Green Line, that qualifies as a success.

Normally a right field roof box seat might not be the most desirable for a concert at Fenway, but after a 91 degree, humid and sweltering day, the breezes this locale provided made it better than the more expensive seats.

McCartney had all the veteran rock star points down pat, clearly doing his homework in making the proper references.

“Is that the Green Monster?” and then “Is that Ted’s red seat?” he inquired, along with other frequent mentions of Fenway and the Red Sox.

He came on promptly at 8:00 p.m. and played a solid two-and-a-half hour set, which included three encores, peppering the show with songs from his vast Beatles and solo career. The Liverpudlian also threw in some new songs, a couple of which were pretty good. McCartney didn’t make the mistake that even many veteran rockers make, however. Too often performers introduce a new song with a phrase like, “This one’s from our new album” which to many in the crowd serves as a cue that it’s a good time to go and take a leak. People come to hear the songs they know and love.

Sure, the majority of the crowd were recipients of the AARP newsletter, but there were a few younger people there as well, as McCartney noted. Not that time hasn’t taken a bit of a toll on some of the high notes that Macca strained to reach, but the fact that he’s willing to try for it is admirable.

I hope that when I’m his age I get to do something I love and get paid for it. Hell, I hope that I get to his age.

Posted by dmargarita at 12:22 AM

July 28, 2009

A Remembrance...

Hello All,

Today marks the one year anniversary of the passing of my father, Henry "Bob" Margarita. I thought I'd republish this piece I wrote one year ago today. There's not a day goes by that I don't think of him.

The quote says that “Some are born great, some achieve greatness and others have greatness thrust upon them.” Somehow it seems that my father, Bob Margarita, who passed away on Monday, July 28 at age 87, managed to fit into all three categories.

He died peacefully at home surrounded by his children whom he dearly loved and who dearly loved him, along with his beloved dog Jake.

My siblings and I are of course saddened at the loss of our father, but we have also been able to share numerous smiles at the many wonderful memories we have of him. Though his soft voice and gentle manner will no longer grace our presence, his presence in not only in our lives, but the lives of so many whom he touched throughout his long life, made an indelible impact.

As a child, I know I bragged about his storied athletic career. That’s a pretty natural thing for a boy; to confuse his father’s athletic success with greatness. Children always see professional athletes as heroes, as do many adults.

A star athlete at Medford High, Brown University and then the Chicago Bears, my father also was scouted as a catcher by the Detroit Tigers and took infield with them when they came to town to play the Red Sox at Fenway Park.

When his playing days were over, he became a football coach at many colleges including Harvard, Yale, Boston University and took a Georgetown team to the Sun Bowl, while at the time, the youngest college head football coach in the country. So you see, I had plenty to brag about.

As I grew up I got to see that the true measure of his greatness wasn’t in his professional career, but in the way he lived his life and loved his family.

After a successful second season as a running back and defensive back with the Chicago Bears, he retired to spend time with my mother and their son Bobby, who suffered from spina bifida. He did come out of retirement when the Bears asked him to as they were heading toward the 1946 NFL Championship. After the Bears won the championship game my father retired from playing for good.

Having an intimate knowledge of George Halas’ famed T Formation, he was one of the most sought after college football coaches in the country, but knowing my mother wanted to stay close to her roots, he bypassed numerous high-paying jobs at big-name colleges to stay fairly close to home. How many of us would do that?

During a brief stint as a teacher/coach at Wayland High, the principal came into his class one day to tell him that he had a phone call from Los Angeles in his office for my father. A long distance phone call from LA was a pretty big deal in those days. My father returned and explained that the call had been from the owner of the Los Angeles Dons of the new All America Football Conference, an attempted rival to the NFL.

He explained to the principal that the Dons had offered him a contract of $40, 000, an incredible sum for the time, to come out of retirement and play for them. The principal was stunned when my father told him he had declined the offer.

He continued to turn down lucrative coaching offers to stay in the area. At one point, he took a job as a salesman, which paid reasonably well. As he explained to me one day, he realized that he wasn’t happy in that job and really just wanted to be and belonged on a football field, so when the opportunity to coach again came along, he jumped at the chance.

He finally got what I think he thought of as his dream job when he was hired in 1964 as a teacher and football coach in his hometown of Stoneham, Ma. This would cement his local legend status.

As a teacher, he was often assigned the tough kids because, as a former administrator once explained to me, he was “the only one that could handle them.”

Perhaps his stocky build and powerful forearms helped, but more likely it was his gentle nature and the fact that he treated them fairly and with respect, which I know they recognized because some of them told me that.

After retiring from teaching in 1987, he took the job as equipment manager for Stoneham High Athletics. Ever-present at the school and various sporting events with one of his many dogs, he continued to be loved by many generations of students.

I couldn’t begin to count the number of times someone told me how much my father meant to them or of a kindness he did for them, such as helping them get into a certain college or getting a certain job.

After his induction as a charter member of the Stoneham High Athletic Hall of Fame (also a charter member of the Brown University and Medford High Hall of Fame), he received a note from a former student who told him how much he meant to her and that he was the inspiration for her interest in history and is a constant reader of historical novels due to his influence. He was as proud of that note as any accolade or accomplishment that he ever received in football. He showed the note to anyone and everyone who came by the house or told of the note to anyone whom he spoke to on the phone.

He had been in declining health for quite a while and spent time in various hospitals and nursing homes. Yet, he always managed to keep us laughing because I know he didn’t want us to worry about him. When he was last brought to the hospital and it didn’t look like he’d survive the day, he woke up at one point and saw my brothers Jimmy and Johnny and in a booming voice said “Jimmy, you’re not only smarter than Johnny, you’re better looking!” which of course cracked them up. He then fell right back to sleep.

When it was determined by the doctors that nothing more could be done for him, he came back to his home of “54 years” as he proudly noted to a healthcare worker, which made him very happy.

Upon being brought into the house, the first thing he said was "Hi Jake! Hi Jake!" despite the presence of four of his children. The next thing he said after looking around was a relieved "I'm home." His last two audible full sentences were "I love you" to all of us and then (I'm not making this up) "Where's Jake?"

Yes, he had quite a professional career as a player and then a teacher and coach, but it was his even more successful roles of husband, father and human being that made him without a doubt, the greatest man I ever knew.

Posted by dmargarita at 4:25 PM

July 27, 2009

P.E.D. Dispensers

Congratulations go out to former Boston Red Sox slugger Jim Rice who was inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame this past weekend. As for me, I spent this past weekend trying to figure out how to use Twitter.

Rice was elected in his 15th and final year on the ballot, in large part because his career batting numbers now seem more impressive as the recent sluggers of the game are being exposed as steroid cheats (Yeah, I’m talkin’ about you, Manny!).

Fans act shocked about these steroid revelations, but this doesn’t seem to be that recent a phenomenon. I recall being at a Red Sox-Oakland A’s playoff game in 1988 with Sox fans taunting A’s right fielder Jose Canseco with chants of “STE-ROIDS! STE-ROIDS!” Canseco took it in stride and jokingly showed off his biceps during a stoppage in play. I’m glad total strangers don’t give me the same treatment for my obvious physical attributes due to ingestion of various substances. It would be pretty embarrassing to have total strangers come up to me and yell, “DOUGH-NUTS! DOUGH-NUTS!”

Some have tried to associate past bad behavior with steroid use. It has often been noted that Babe Ruth performed on the field after spending the previous evening performing off the field. The Sultan of Swat was noted for his affinity for alcohol and his constant (and extremely successful) pursuit of women. To equate the Babe and steroid users is absurd, because I don’t think one can classify bootleg gin or gonorrhea as “performance enhancers.”

Former Major League pitcher Jim Bouton’s 1970 book Ball Four was the first to expose the dirty secrets of the national pastime in great detail, noting that payers often used amphetamines or “greenies” to help them get through the grueling grind of coast-to-coast travel and day games after night games, or for that matter, a four hour baseball game. Whether or not those greenies helped with one’s performance on the baseball diamond, I’m not knowledgeable enough to say. I will say that if I were to have open-heart surgery, I would not want my surgeon taking greenies to “enhance” his or her performance.

Slugger Rafael Palmeiro became best known not as a hitter, but as a spokesman for Viagra, which is sort of another type of “performing enhancing” drug. After vehemently denying steroid use to congress, Palmeiro tested positive for steroids. Knowing the effects that steroids have on the male reproductive system, it begins to answer why a healthy, well-conditioned 37-year-old professional athlete would need that type of performance enhancer.

Canseco was arrested last year while trying to sneak a female fertility drug into the country from Mexico, while Manny Ramirez was suspended 50 games for using the same drug to counter the effects of steroid use. Los Angeles Dodgers officials should have become suspicious when Ramirez ordered not only a protective cup, but also a sports bra.

One group of fans this would seem to effect would be baseball groupies. What’s the point of dating these guys if they’re physically incapable of doing anything off the field?

That players look for an edge, is nothing new. Author Zev Chafets notes in his new book Cooperstown Confidential: Heroes, Rogues and the Inside Story of the Baseball Hall of Fame, that James “Pud” Galvin, a star pitcher in the 19th century who is in the Baseball HOF, ingested monkey testosterone in 1889. Galvin was known to throw a fastball, a change-up and on occasion, his own feces.

The substance didn’t seem to help him on the pitcher’s mound much, although it may have affected his health, perhaps the same effects as modern steroids, with Galvin dying at age 45, not to mention acquiring the nickname “Pud.”

This was long before the advent of the designated hitter and at the plate, Galvin was known as a “free swinger.” He’d swing at high pitches, he’d swing at low pitches and sometimes he’d swing from the hotel chandelier. But seriously folks…

Barry Bonds is said to have used Human Growth Hormone, which notably led to the increase of the size of his chest, his feet and his head. When a man in his 30’s is outgrowing his clothes, did no one become suspicious? At age 37, a man shouldn’t have to go shopping for back to school clothes.

There are some truly vile people that are in the Baseball Hall of Fame (Yeah, I’m talkin’ about you, Ty Cobb!), but the steroid cheats used substances that altered their bodies to such a degree as to greatly affect not only their performance, but the statistical record and thus the game itself and for my money, don’t belong in Cooperstown.

If you’ll excuse me now, I’m off to get my Boston Cream donut.

Posted by dmargarita at 1:54 PM

July 13, 2009

Say It Ain't So, Joe!

Leave it to The Boston Herald to unleash (yes, a horrible pun) one of their sensationalistic headlines with a photo of Little Joe, The Franklin Park Zoo’s most famous resident, with the bold type “PLEASE DON’T KILL ME.”

Little Joe (the gorilla and not the late actor Michael Landon who played Little Joe on the TV show “Bonanza”) sparked quite a manhunt…er, apehunt several years ago after not one, but two escapes from the Franklin Park Zoo, although I don’t recall if the Herald’s headline at the time was “YOU’LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE, COPPER!”

It seems that Zoo New England director John Linehan warned legislators in a letter that if budget cuts took place, several animals might have to be euthanized if they were unable to be placed in other settings. The implication seemed to be that Governor Deval Patrick would hover over the facilities in a helicopter with a rifle and gun down the animals as they slept in their cages. Actually, that does sound like one of Sarah Palin’s hobbies, and hey, she will soon have a lot of extra time on her hands.

On Monday the Herald quoted a spokesman for the governor as saying that “there will be no animals euthanized on this administration’s watch,” with the paper going so far as to say that Patrick “commuted the death sentence” hanging over the animal’s heads.

That seems reminiscent of an old movie and I can picture a gorilla sitting in his cage, waiting for a note from the governor to spare him the electric chair.

I'm assuming his last meal would be bananas.

With the state facing a massive budget deficit and no one anxious to raise taxes, programs will be cut and before social programs and the arts get the axe (as they invariably do), other programs may go first.

A trip to the Stone Zoo on a hot and humid (these days, more rare than some of the animals there) Sunday gave me a chance to get a good look at what we will miss if the zoo is closed.

At the entrance I immediately saw a creature that is indeed quite rare in these parts…a Yankees fan. As for the creatures inside the zoo (excluding the divorced dads having custody for the day), the results were mixed.

Longtime favorite Major the polar bear is gone, but in his place were two brown bears. Sadly, they seem to have much less room than I recall Major having, and unless their natural surroundings involved concrete in cramped quarters, I can’t imagine they were having the time of their life.

There was a bald eagle, on loan from another zoo, which was unable to fly due to the fact that he had damaged wings. They didn’t say how his wings were damaged, but I suspect fowl play. Sorry, sorry, sorry.

The cage of the river otter was a disappointment, as he or she was nowhere to be found. Hey, for $10 admission, he otter show up! (and the puns continue!).

A worker, whose name tag identified her as Sandy, standing by the cage of the gibbon responded to a question by saying “I’m not a monkey, but I think she’s comfortable.” Good thing she cleared that confusion up. I wasn’t sure what to make of it when I saw Sandy throwing her feces.

Sandy noted that the gibbon came from the Bronx and wasn’t allowed to breed because her line had been so inbred that they feared her offspring would be cross-eyed and play “Dueling Banjos” on the banjo. Okay, that last part is hyperbole on my part, but the first segment is true. Besides, who needs another Yankees fan in these here parts, anyway?

It seems the Corn Snake “feeds on mice, bats, rats, birds and her own eggs.” If it does come down to euthanizing the animals, it sounds like the Corn Snake can do a fair amount of the work.

Well, the public has been properly alarmed and I have no doubt that somehow, someone from somewhere will find the money to keep these creatures alive.

If there isn’t enough money to feed the animals, I can already see the Herald’s next headline.

“YES, WE HAVE NO BANANAS.”

Posted by dmargarita at 8:01 PM

Video Premiere!!!

Here's the long-awaited debut of my music video of my song about drinking, "Stitches & Nudity." Note the increasing amount of bandages on Dave "The Drunk Guy" as the video progresses. Hopefully, the full CD will be out this summer. Hopefully, we'll have summer.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OSsPTgrEUpU

Posted by dmargarita at 6:35 PM

July 12, 2009

Some Stand Up

Hey all, just to let you know I'll be doing a guest set at Giggles Comedy Club on Rt. 1 in Saugus, Ma. this Tuesday night. No time for music, so just straight stand up. If you're in the mood and in the neighborhood, come on by.

Posted by dmargarita at 7:04 PM

June 30, 2009

This Just In…

So many things to write about, so little memory left on my computer, and even less in my Hippocampus.

President Obama kills a fly during a national TV interview, causing outrage from animal-rights group People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA), who called it an “execution.” PETA urged Obama to “show a little more compassion to even the least sympathetic animals." Having just feasted on a pile of dog poop, the fly was without a doubt, the least sympathetic of animals. PETA also urged Obama to free all of the bubonic plague bacteria currently being held against their will in government labs.

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Financier fraudster Bernie Madoff, whose Ponzi scheme bilked investors out of billions of dollars, was sentenced to 150 years in prison on Monday for his deeds. With good behavior, Madoff may get out in 127 years.

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Michael Jackson, the “King of Pop” was pronounced dead at age 50 after a 911 call indicated he was without a pulse, even when the pulse was checked on his non-gloved hand.

Authorities say that toxicology results will take 4-6 weeks to be completed, or sooner if they’re sent to Hawaii Five-0’s “Che in the lab,” who typically got results to Steve McGarrett in 20 minutes.

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TV pitchman Billy Mays was found dead in his apartment on Saturday. Police rule out Michael Jackson as a suspect. Medical examiners are looking into the possibility that the amount of dye in his hair and beard may have caused blood poisoning.

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South Carolina Gov. Mark Sanford admits that he lied in telling his staff that he was “hiking the Appalachian Trail” and was in fact in Argentina, continuing a long affair with a woman there. The publisher’s at Webster’s Dictionary announce the inclusion of the term “Hiking the Appalachian Trail” as a new euphemism for sex.
Sanford spent Father’s Day weekend with the woman instead of his wife and sons, whom may now think of it as “Lover’s Day.”

Sanford later compared himself to Biblical King David, who committed adultery with Bathsheba when they went “hiking the Jerusalem trail.”

Former Massachusetts governor and presidential hopeful Mitt Romney says he can bring credibility back to the party of “family values” who have been hurt by repeated incidents of marital infidelity.

“I may be rich and good-looking,” says Romney, “but I’m too boring for any woman to be interested in having an affair with.”

The former governor, a practicing Mormon, brags that he’s never cheated on his wives.

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Honduran president Manuel Zelaya was overthrown by the military in a coup d’état. Soldiers arrested Zelaya in his pajamas and flew him to Costa Rica for a forced exile. The pajamas remain under house arrest.

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Scandal has plagued Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi, who is alleged to have paid a woman to spend the night with him, telling her to “go wait on the big bed,” which is an Italian euphemism for “hiking the Appian Way.”

Berlusconi’s wife Veronica publicly blasted the prime minister for attending the birthday party of an 18-year-old lingerie model/actress and sued the prime minister for divorce. The Discovery Channel has approached Berlusconi about starring in a reality TV show called “Silvio and Veronica plus an 18 Year Old.”

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The Iranian government continues its violent crackdown of supporters of presidential candidate Mir Hossein Mousavi, whom protesters claim was robbed of victory by backers of President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, who won a landslide victory last week. Supporters of Mousavi note that Ahmadinejad even carried Florida.

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After years as an occupying force, the U.S. military pulls out of cities in Iraq as per their agreement with the Iraqi government. The frustrated Iraqi cities could not be reached for comment (Thank you, Chevy Chase/SNL for that joke).

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Johnny Carson’s longtime sidekick and Lowell, Ma. native Ed MacMahon passes away at age 86. His funeral procession is to be led by a team of Budweiser Clydesdales.

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And that's just the news that's fit to print.

Posted by dmargarita at 8:21 PM

June 16, 2009

Out In Left Field

Okay, so it’s the middle of June and the baseball season is two and a half months underway. Do you really think I’m going to tempt fate by putting my snow shovel away?

That said, I figured it was time to attend my first Major League Baseball games of the season, which I did…in New York City.

Taking the number 7 express from Times Sq., I arrive at the Citi Field, brand spanking new home of the Ney York Mets. Instead of waiting in the Will Call line, kiosks provide your ticket after a quick swipe of the credit card you bought the ticket with. Modern technology 1, quaintness of waiting in line like the old days, 0.

The main entrance is the Jackie Robinson Rotunda, a tribute to the man and styled after the legendary ballpark Ebbets Field in Brooklyn. Modern convenience and old-timeyness.

Since my first Mets game was in Shea Stadium in the last row of the upper deck for a Mets-Phillies game in 1987, I check out the last row of seats in the upper deck. With an extensive overhang, it seems less terrifying than the last row at Shea was when descending said stairs at such a steep pitch seemed like conclusion of a Hitchcock thriller.

My actual seat is in row B in a sliver of seats in left field, about ten feet from the foul pole. Home run territory.

Like Shea, planes still rise from over the left field section of the ballpark, but with such a low cloud ceiling, they quickly disappear into the clouds like Shoeless Joe Jackson disappearing into the corn in Field of Dreams.

There’s a kids section beyond CF and if you‘re there or enjoying a beverage from the bottled beer booth, you can still watch the game via a large screen TV. That goes along with two HD video screens inside the ballpark, one in CF and one right next to it in RF.

Being in New York, it seems appropriate to get a Nathan’s Famous Hot Dog at the ballpark. I seldom eat hot dogs as my doctor has urged me to cut down on the amount of rodent fecal matter in my diet. Nathan’s proudly noted that they were established in 1916 and my hot dog tastes like that’s when it was established.

The most annoying thing of the game, is having to show my ticket every time I return to my section, but overall it is a pleasant experience. The Phillies win on a Chase Utley HR in 11 innings.

Friday night is a warm summer evening and Times Sq. comes alive. The many video screens showing ads constantly change color, which changes the whole tone of that section of the square. Several areas have been blocked off to auto traffic and are pedestrian malls. You can sit in one of the deck chairs they’ve put there or position yourself for a photo that if you’d tried to take before, would’ve likely resulted in your demise.

While passing the ESPN Zone, I find myself among a crowd watching the Mets-Yankees game on a TV through the window. With two New York teams involved, half of the crowd is rooting for Mets, the other half the Yanks. With runners on first and second and two outs, Alex Rodriguez hits what appears to be an easy pop-up to second base for the third out and the Yanks fans groan while the Mets fans cheer. Remarkably, the Mets second baseman Castillo drops it. Two runs score and the Yankees win. Well, it’s more like the Mets lose. The shift in cheering is fun to watch.

Saturday is more of a challenge as I head into enemy territory, to the new Yankee Stadium. This jewel has wider seats with more legroom than the ones at Fenway Parl. Oh, yeah, all of the seats are cushioned. My seat is once again in left field.

Unfortunately, there is a slight drizzle. Fortunately, it’s not enough to delay the start of the game. Unfortunately, I didn’t bring a jacket or rain gear. Fortunately, there’s an overhang that juts out over the seats in left field. Unfortunately, it only extends to the row behind me, so while they do not get rained on, I do.

I decide to watch much of the game standing up behind the last row of the seats on the third base side, as you were once able to do at Fenway Park, but no longer can, but not before visiting the Yankee Museum. Autographed bats, balls and uniform jersey’s are impressive to an old-time baseball geek. Of course, I’m more awed by the Babe Ruth Yankees than the Joe Torre Yankees.

Like Citi Field, a fan has to show his/her ticket to get back to their seat, so in neither ballpark, no matter what the score, one cannot sneak down to the good seats late in a game or during a blowout when seats become available.

If there’s one thing New York City is known for, besides being the shooting ground for about five versions of the TV show Law & Order (and I did pass by L&O star and Woburn native Eric Bogosian and said, “Eric Bogosion, Woburn Tanner, Dan Margarita, Stoneham Spartan” which prompted a look from him as though I’d told him I was the Lindbergh baby), it’s the theater.

With the Mets having a commanding lead, I leave after the seventh inning because I have a ticket to see The 39 Steps at the Helen Hayes Theater. It’s a small but elegant little theater that opened in 1912, the same year as Fenway Park and when Helen Hayes was 12 years old. Seems kind of strange that they would name a theater after a 12 year old, but she was a legend.

The play The 39 Steps, is a comedy based on the Hitchcock movie of the same name. Yes, you read that correctly…a comedy based on a Hitchcock movie. While Hitchcock was know for some macabre humor, farcical comedy is not what comes to mind when you think of Alfred Hitchcock. I can’t wait to see Psycho, the Musical.

(Singing) “I’m gonna stab, stab, stab you in the shower/and watch your blood run drown the drain/ Cuz psycho killing gives me power/and sends endorphins through my brain.”

The show proved to be quite enjoyable, though. Perhaps the best part was getting my ticket at a discount through a coupon given out in the square. I had a seat right in the middle of the crowd for a perfect view.

I would’ve thought they’d stick me out in left field.

Posted by dmargarita at 4:33 PM

May 26, 2009

NASA's # 1!

Space exploration reached new scientific heights recently when it was announced that the astronauts on board the International Space Station drank water that was recycled from their own urine. I guess you could say it was, “One small step for man, one giant leak for mankind.”

If you read most headlines, however, you would have thought that the astronauts drank straight pee (and not on the moon rocks).

CNN’s website headline reads: “Astronauts Enjoy Recycled Urine.” That is a tad misleading. It’s not that they drank urine and enjoyed it, which seems to be the implication. They drank water that was recycled and had once been urine, thus it was water they enjoyed and not urine. So, this isn’t like the 1973 sci-fi movie Soylent Green, where citizens of the future are given a new foodstuff made of…citizens of the future. Still, CNN makes it sound like they were just drinking pee to wash down the poop sandwich they had earlier.

CNN might as well write, “Astronauts Enjoy Dog Vomit.”

Indeed, flight engineer Mike Barrett did tell the world, “The taste is great,” although one of his crewmates argued that it’s “Less filling.”

I recall that as a child, it was a big deal when the Apollo astronauts supposedly brought the powdered drink Tang to the moon. Perhaps their new Tang packets should read, “Just add urine.”

This recycling is seen as key technology to allow humans to travel further in space without needing to bring water for such missions as trips to the moon and Mars. You have to admit that this is a very original way of using available resources, which is necessary in such a limited environment. Perhaps the next step is to use astronaut flatulence as a means of propelling their spacecraft.

NASA isn’t done using every available scrap of biological matter available on the ISS, though. There are lab rats on the ISS and NASA is planning to include their waste for recycling purposes.

“A full complement of 72 rats would equal about one human in terms of water reclamation,” Layne Carter, a water-processing specialist with NASA, is quoted as saying.

This pretty much squares with what I have on my “rat-to-human” conversion chart.

This is all well and good, if you can find complimentary rats. I’ve generally found them to be quite insulting. Anyway, I had always thought that the collective noun for rats was a “pack.” I guess it sounds more scientific to call them a “compliment” of rats.

This project also holds promise for the future of humankind. While three-quarters of the Earth is covered by water, clean, safe drinking water is a scarce commodity in many third-world countries. Thus, this project may benefit mankind in the long run in our continued efforts to go “green,” or I suppose in this case, “yellow.”

Similar technology has existed for a while, with CNN even noting that it was used after the tsunami in Asia in 2004. They also note that with such large-scale use, there is typically “a much larger gap between urine and tap.”

For the love of God, I hope so.

Okay, so I’ve spent this column resorting to sixth grade potty humor for laughs this week. When CNN puts out a headline like “Astronauts enjoy recycled urine,” what else am I supposed to do?

According to the BBC, the astronauts were given permission to drink the water after tests on water recycled on previous missions, was deemed safe for consumption. This means that at some point, someone had to be the first to try it. I wish I could’ve been a fly on the wall that day.

“Go ahead, Bob. Drink it.”

“No, thanks, Ted. You first.”

If it hadn’t worked, I imagine it would’ve been embarrassing to have to report this on national TV back to NASA headquarters.

“Houston, we have a problem.”

Posted by dmargarita at 7:56 PM

May 17, 2009

Sacri-licious

If I recall my classes at CCD (the Catholic version of Sunday School, held on Saturday) correctly, Jesus will one day return to Earth. They just never told us that it would be as a piece of toast.

Once again, someone seems to have found the image of Jesus on their food. Linda Lowe, of Lake Bowen, Florida, is only the latest individual to have their meal emerge bearing the likeness of Jesus or a member of his family. Well, nobody ever seems to cook up an image of Joseph (and BTW, my apologies to Matt Groening of The Simpsons for using one of their jokes for my title).

According to BlueRidgeNow.com, just before Christmas, Ms. Lowe mentioned to her boyfriend Dupree Gilbert that she was hungry for a “cheese toast snack,” but forgot to add “hold the religious icons.”

The toast emerged, as toast seems to often do these days, bearing the likeness of a bearded, longhaired man. Online photos make that much clear, but whether it’s actually Jesus or an image of a generic bass player from a ‘70’s rock band, is up to the viewer.

BRN says that Lowe keeps the toast in a plastic container and that after five months, it still hasn’t gone “bad.” Well, duh; if it is Jesus, of course it wouldn’t go bad.

Ms. Lowe also states that she “would never eat it,” as though the temptation to munch on a five-month-old piece of toast still seems like a possibility at this point.

On the other hand, if the toast does go “bad,” it would then become moldy and thus eventually turn into penicillin, which actually could cure someone, so it may be divine indeed.

Among the more notable religious foods was a 10-year-old partially eaten grilled cheese sandwich, which sold for $28,000 on eBay in 2004. According to ABC News’ website, the chef and owner of the sandwich, Diana Duyser, took a bite of the sandwich in 1994, and “saw the image of Mary and immediately decided that this blessed snack was not to be eaten.” Exploited, commercialized and prostituted, yes, but not eaten.

The sandwich was bought by GoldenPalace.com, which planned to take the sandwich on tour, and no, I’m not making that up.

So, make sure to get in line early for tickets when the tour comes your way.

“Hey, man…did you get tickets to see the sandwich?”

From what I understand, a pot roast was supposed to open for the sandwich but canceled at the last minute.

Mind you, these are just the known foods bearing a holy likeness. What about all the grilled cheese sandwiches that have been eaten because people were hungry and not paying attention to see if their food resembled Jesus? Then there are those few untouched civilizations that might not be familiar with Christianity and could have laid out an entire feast that looked like Michelangelo’s Last Supper and not understood the significance.

With the economy in disarray right now, it seems like a good idea to invest in a toaster and some Wonder Bread and get busy in the kitchen. If burnt toast can fetch that much money, it’s time to start cooking. I would think that statistically, if one cooks enough toast, one will eventually come up with a piece that looks like Jesus, or maybe even all of the Apostles. Sort of like if you had an infinite amount of monkeys, with an infinite amount of toasters…

Yet nobody ever seems to make toast that looks like other icons or famous people. I guess it wouldn’t be a story that would get on CNN if someone claimed that they made a piece of toast that looks like Keith Richard. Then again, most burnt toast does look like Keith Richard.

On Ash Wednesday, 2007, a woman washing a pizza pan at a school in Houston, discovered on her third cleansing of the pan, an image of what seemed to be the Virgin Mary. Well, I guess Ash Wednesday’s as good a day any for that to happen.

Clearly, there seems to be one constant ingredient in these foods…cheese. It has long been said that “The Lord works in mysterious ways.”

If that means that He will send his message of peace and love via a cow’s udder, so be it. It’s just a shame that some people will exploit other people’s faith for financial gain.

Kind of makes the commercialism of it seem sort of…cheesy.

Posted by dmargarita at 2:46 PM

May 5, 2009

Aaarggghhh You Kidding?

Each age has it’s own problems to deal with, i.e., a few hundred years ago it was plagues, religious fanatics and pirates. Here in the 21st century we are forced to deal with…plagues, religious fanatics and pirates. We’ve come so far.

Former FBI agent Jack Cloonan, who has been negotiating ransoms with Somali pirates, gave an interview with Spiegal International Online. Okay, I’ve never heard of Spiegal International Online before, but excerpts from the interview were quoted on national TV, so I have to assume that Spiegal is reputable.

Cloonan likened negotiating with pirates to buying a car in American. Yes, you car salesmen and women, a former FBI agent compared dealing with you to dealing you with pirates.

“You're dealing with somebody and negotiating and then finally he just throws his hands up and says: ‘All right, I've got to go talk to my manager,’” Cloonan told Spiegal.

Although I don’t suppose you can get some sort of “Warlord’s Day” deals.

Cloonan says the pirates are “fishermen one day and over the weekend they become pirates and on Monday they're fishermen again.” This must make for interesting talk by the water cooler on Monday morning.

“What did you do over the weekend, Bob?”

“I became a pirate.”

This begs the question; if you received part of a $2 million ransom over the weekend, why go back into work on Monday?

I suppose they’re no different from Americans that you see win the lottery and then tell the press, “I’m still going to keep my job.”

Except for Hugh Heffner, I can’t imagine why anybody would still want to keep their day job.

Cloonan also says that $100 million dollars in $100 bills weighs 29 pounds, but of course we all know what that feels like.

Another question that baffles is why a pirate who makes a number of scores from a few multi-million dollar ransoms would continue stay in the pirate business. In a country as disparately poor as Somalia, I wouldn’t think it would take a lot of loot to live comfortably for the rest one’s life.

According to the BBC (whom I have heard of), Somali pirates now live a lavish lifestyle.

"They wed the most beautiful girls; they are building big houses; they have new cars; new guns," a local told the BBC.

In America, we call them “rap artists.”

The BBC also says that “once a pirate makes his fortune, he tends to take on a second and third wife.”

Well, I guess that answers the question as to why they continue to back to sea for more loot. Even in Somalia, supporting more than one wife probably costs a few bucks, not to mention the “getting out of the house” factor. Would you want to hang around the house with more than one wife getting on your case?

“You just want to go out with your friends! You never take me plundering anymore!”

The three pirates who held Captain Richard Phillips hostage got to experience the downside of criminal life, which is, being killed by in the act of pirating (well, they experienced it in the nanosecond it takes for a bullet to penetrate one’s skull).

The pirates did have a chance to get away alive, had they kept their word and exchanged Capt. Phillips for their captured colleague. Believe it or not, once upon a time there was something known as “The Pirate Code of Conduct.” Yes, pirates once had ethics, as written by the infamous “Black Bart.”

Among the 11 articles were “No boys or women on board.” I’m sure that made a group of men spending months at sea in cramped quarters extremely happy.

Not all pirates are dangerous, though.

There’s a group of inept Pirates in Pittsburgh that don’t scare anybody.

Posted by dmargarita at 7:38 PM

April 21, 2009

Marathon Man

Patriot’s Day means three things in Massachusetts, the Boston Red Sox will play at 11 a.m., and the Boston Marathon will be run, and state workers will have the day off.

I was fortunate enough to be invited by a friend who conveniently lives on Beacon St., right around the 23 mile mark, to stop by and watch the festivities from there.

It seems that getting to the Marathon itself is kind of well, a marathon. State officials make it a point to tell the public to use public transportation. What they fail to realize is that many people have to use private transportation to get to the public transportation.

I traveled to Oak Grove in Malden to use P.T., but got shut out of a parking space there. Fortunately, I was early enough at Wellington Station to get one of the few remaining parking spots, and from there, made my way to the dreaded Green Line.

Between the Red Sox and Marathon crowd, one could only hope to squeeze or be squeezed onto a Green Line car. I retreated to the well of the steps of the car, fortunately on the side where the doors weren’t opening, and had to stand in an awkward position, keeping my weight on one leg to avoid being crushed my the throngs of people. Still, I found myself forced into some intimate moments with total strangers. My positioning forced me to make a new friend as eye was at eye level with a woman sitting in the first chair by the door I was at. Over the P.A. system the conductor scolded us like school children, repeatedly yelling, “Move all the way in! Watch the doors! Watch the doors!”

If she’d yelled “Raus! Raus!” I would’ve gotten nervous.

As luck would have it, I arrived at my destination just in time to catch the leaders coming by. You can tell by the slow speed of the motorcycle police coming down Beacon Street that the lead runners are arriving and that it’s not and attempt to pull over an errant motorist.

The winners, Ethiopia's Deriba Merga and Kenya's Salina Kosgei, come by and then the trickle of elite runners make their way past. Shortly thereafter, more and more runners go by and eventually the solid, but non-elite runners start to arrive en masse. As the line continues, more and more runners are walking. I find myself trying to encourage them with shouts of “You can do it!” or “Just three miles to go!”

It hits me how ridiculous this sounds. That makes it sounds like three miles is easy, when I know that I could not run the final three miles, much less the previous 23 that they’ve just run.

“You can do it!”?

Hell, I know that I can’t do it. In fact, I find myself feeling guilty for getting tired just clapping for ten minutes for people who have now run 23 miles.

The wheelchair athletes courageously make their way past, and deservedly get plenty of support.

One guy has clearly given up, judging by the fact that he is now walking with a Bud Light can in his hand, no less. Glad to see he followed a strict training regimen.

A female runner veers close to the curb and screams, “I need water! I need water!”

Fortunately, a woman a few feet away, who has her infant in a stroller, has a small bottle of water in her hand and removes the cap and hands it to the runner, who continues on her way. It might’ve been interesting to see what would have happened if she gave the runner the bottle of formula attached to the stroller.

It was right around then when the less serious runners come by. Super Heroes were well represented, with Captain America, Wonder Woman and Batman all making an appearance. No doubt, marathoners get asked a lot “Why on earth would you want to run 26 miles?” Perhaps an even more pertinent question is “Why on earth you would want to run 26 miles in a Batman costume?”

Also, a man with a blonde wig (with pig tails) comes by dressed as a Hooters waitress.

Other entertainment includes a tuba player and a man playing a sort of tom-tom or small kettledrum. One would never think that a tuba could be so melodic. Then a woman chimes in with her fife, much to the seeming annoyance of the tuba player who is forced by her to continuously play the song “Mama’s Little Baby Loves Shortening” (or whatever it’s called). My party host, Mike Donovan, videotapes the proceedings and joins in on tambourine, which seems to annoy the fife player. You can tell from her reaction in Mike’s video that she’s a little miffed. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w5jvrbHf5Ws&feature=channel

The Green Line train ride home wasn’t nearly as crowded, but with the Red Sox and Marathon traffic dispersing, takes an interminable hour. There is some entertainment as a young man on the train decides to use his cell phone to videotape the big drunk guy a few feet away. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to sober up and find that on YouTube some day.

So, if you know someone who ran the Boston Marathon, buy him or her a well-deserved beer…or Gatorade…or some deodorant.

Posted by dmargarita at 5:28 PM

March 23, 2009

Hooterville

I’d long ago dubbed Hooters restaurant as “the place to go when you want to pay a lot of money to be treated like crap by all the beautiful girls who ignored you in high school.”

Clearwater, Florida is home to the Philadelphia Phillies spring training facilities, as well as the first Hooters restaurant ever, established there in 1983. I’m guessing there has been a hefty turnover of staff since then as some of the original staff has probably gotten pretty hefty; you know, what with all the access to those free chicken wings.

After several years of attending Philadelphia Phillies games in Clearwater on my annual Spring Training trip with baseball pals Jim & Rick, I finally had the chance to visit the birthplace of Hooters; Hooterville itself, as it were.

The connection between Hooters and the Phillies is strong. Besides many ads around the ballpark, there is a “Hooters VIP Diamond Dugout” down the third base line. Fans sitting there can have their food served to them by Hooters waitresses.

Although Clearwater is the home of the original Hooters, many other ballparks seem to have Hooters waitresses patrolling the grounds, as well. In Clearwater, the Phillies use them as “ball girls” on each base line. That is, they are supposed to retrieve foul balls and give them to kids in the stands. I’ll leave it to you to insert your own “ball girls” joke.

From what I could discern, these ball girls didn’t seem to be selected for their athletic ability, or even their knowledge of the game as one of them unwittingly fields a ball in play that winds up being scored as a ground-rule double as a result of her interference.

My two previous experiences at a Hooters restaurant weren’t pleasant ones. The first occasion was at the old Hooters near the Boston Garden. I went in to check it out several years ago to have some food, a beer and watch a ballgame. After perusing the menu for just a few minutes, the bartender rudely asked “Are you gonna order something, or what?” That question pretty much made my decision for me. A simple “Are you ready to order?” as most service people would ask, would’ve kept me there and who knows, maybe coming back.

I told someone this story recently and it made me realize that after all these years it wasn’t fair to judge the whole chain and their staff by one bad experience, so I decided to give them another chance (honestly, it was in the interest of fairness). So I recently took a trip to the new Hooters on Rte. 1 for a meal, bypassing such other heart-congestion-inducing haunts as The Border Café and The Hilltop Steakhouse.

It may or may not surprise you to learn that the patrons at Hooters were about 98 percent male. Go figure.

The waitress was friendly enough and the fish sandwich was okay, but when I paid my bill of $12.25, the waitress brought back my change of… $7, instead of $7.75. I’m a pretty good tipper, having had many friends in the service industry, but when you automatically assume the extra .75 as part of your tip, I tend to simply deduct that amount and even a little less, so instead of the handsome tip I would’ve given, she got less than she might have (although still an OK tip).

While we had made several trips over the years to Clearwater for Phillies games, we had never visited the original Hooters, so we decide to make the pilgrimage to the original land of Hooters for the first time ever. The waitress was peasant enough and the burger was okay, but as I went to check the rest of the place out, I unwittingly went upstairs, not realizing that it’s for staff only. As I descend the stairs, I run into the manager who chews me out instead of saying “I’m sorry sir, this is for staff only.”

That pretty much cemented my opinion of Hooters and as I left for home the next day, I was determined that I was done with the owl-themed (yeah, right) restaurant for good. Or so I thought…

Making my way through Tampa Airport, I realize that I can’t find my cell phone. I search my bags frantically, re-trace my steps, go to lost and found…all the things you’re supposed to do. Figuring, well more like praying, that it had fallen out of my pocket and into the rental car from Rick which had dropped me at the airport, I try calling my own phone from a pay phone to see if Rick (or anybody) answers.

I try later again on and it hits me that if I did if fact put it in my luggage by mistake, perhaps the last thing I want to do in the post-911 era is have luggage handlers hearing a ring tone come from my suitcase.

Alas, through the miracle that is the Internet, I learn the next morning that Rick does indeed have my cell phone. It hadn’t fallen out of my pocket and into the rental car as I figured, though. It was found by the manager of Hooters.

Well, maybe I can give them one more chance.

Posted by dmargarita at 4:46 PM

March 9, 2009

Octo-Putz

If there’s one thing that I’ve learned over the course of my several decades on this planet, it’s that…most people are human.

We all make mistakes and do stupid things. Very few of us have those stupid things publicized in the national media, however.

There continues to be quite a buzz about Nadya Suleman, the woman who gave birth to octuplets, although technically, I think eight babies qualifies as a litter.

Those are enough babies to qualify for her to have her own sort of collective noun, as a “pride” of lions or a “gaggle” of geese or a “plague” of locusts. Perhaps a “bundle of Suleman’s.”

Much vitriol has been spewed toward Ms. Suleman for opting to have six embryos implanted, while she was already caring for six other children. Two of those embryos split to give her two sets of twins. I’ll bet she wasn’t counting on that happening.

All 14 of Ms. Suleman’s children were conceived through in vitro fertilization, in which (according to eMedicineHealth.com) a man’s sperm is used to fertilize a woman’s egg in a Petri dish. The embryo is then implanted in the woman’s uterus. Putting it completely in medical terms pretty much takes the hotness out of sex, doesn’t it? (Cue the porno music here). In Ms. Suleman’s case, the embryos were then frozen for later use, when they were implanted in her.

Like I say, we’re all human and make mistakes. I realize that accidents can happen. Sometimes things break or things leak or in the heat of passion, things don’t get used. Getting implanted with six embryos is no accident. It’s not as though she was on her way to the shower, slipped, fell into a vat of embryos and got pregnant. Whoops!!

The British tabloid, The Sun reports that Suleman met her sperm donor, David Soloman, in a nightclub. Well, pretty much every guy in a nightclub goes in there hoping to be a sperm donor, but probably not in the manner that Mr. Soloman participated.

I don’t know who made the first move or what the opening line was that night.

“Hi, I’m Nadya. How’d ya like to produce bodily fluids into a plastic cup?”

Suleman also claims not to have had sex in eight years. She didn’t even get to experience the most fun part of having babies…making them!

Celebrity website TMZ.com announced that Suleman has been offered $1 million to star in a porno film. As for the obvious title, that has already been trademarked by the producers of the James Bond movie Octopussy (I’m not even going to attempt to get that into the print version of this column). Perhaps they could go with Eight Ain’t Enough or The Curious Case of Nadya Suleman.

Suleman admitted in an interview that she always wanted to have a lot of babies to make up for what she felt was neglect during her childhood. Childhood abandonment issues are not uncommon, but people usually go see a therapist to deal with it instead of having babies (Sorry, Tom Cruise...I’ve tried it, and found that therapy helps). I hope that radical medical procedures don’t become a common form of therapy.

“I was always estranged from my parents…so I had a sex change.”

Much has been made of Ms. Suleman’s seeming attempts to look like actress Angelina Jolie, with her full lips. Photos of a younger Suleman seem to indicate that she indeed, like Jolie, may have had cosmetic surgery to achieve this look, unless she is still recovering from an allergic reaction to a bee sting. Wanting to look like Jolie is fine (although if she wanted to look like Phyllis Diller, I’d be more concerned). Wanting to be a role model like Jolie, who in her capacity as UN Goodwill Ambassador, has attempted to highlight the plight of Africa’s poor, is admirable. However, while some cosmetic surgery merely affects her bank account, caring for a large brood not only affects her bank account, but also her mother’s (whose home is being foreclosed on) as well as taxpayers who will need to support her clan. This isn’t admirable but frankly, quite selfish. Ms. Jolie is wealthy and can afford to adopt the entire country of Burkina Faso is she so chooses, because she could provide for them.

Ms. Suleman is unemployed and how she plans to provide for her children remains to be seen. Perhaps she’s counting on evolution to grow six more breasts to feed the kids, but I’d have to say that’s a long-shot.

Two publicists have already abandoned working for Suleman so far. The first resigned after receiving death threats and the second resigned because she says Suleman “is nuts.” (Note to self: do NOT hire this PR person).

As a result of Suleman’s actions, medical ethicists are now debating the issue of whether a limit should be placed on the number of embryos implanted in a woman, while not addressing the sticky subject of when life begins. The religious right has stated firmly that life begins at conception, which brings it’s own conundrum. In researching this piece I saw an Internet story about a woman having an embryo that’s been frozen for 21 years, implanted in her womb. If life does indeed begin at conception, this means that she will give birth to a 21-year-old baby. Thus, immediately upon entering the world, this baby will be able to drink legally and vote.

“It’s a college graduate!”

Whatever one thinks of Ms. Suleman, I think it’s important to remember that there are eight innocent babies who aren’t to blame for their mother’s judgment, or lack thereof, not to mention her already existing brood of previous children. For their sake, I hope people can give up the vitriol and help these kids.

If Ms. Suleman had 14 kids because she felt neglected as an only child, I can’t imagine what her kids will do for attention when they grow up.

Posted by dmargarita at 11:12 AM

February 23, 2009

Chain Gang

I am truly blessed with many friends…I just wish some of them would stop trying to kill me.

I say this because I have recently found myself being deluged by “chain” emails. These are sent by friends and are generally well-intentioned posts that promise to bring me good luck should I forward this to others. Unfortunately, they usually then conclude with some kind of warning, i.e. “Send this to five people and you’ll have good luck within two weeks. Send it to ten people and you’ll have good luck within a week. Send it to 15 people and you will become the master of all time and space tomorrow” before concluding with “If you fail to forward this…YOU WILL DIE A HORRIBLE DEATH!!!...Yours, Ted & Linda.”

I admit, I forwarded some of these when I first went online and received them, and yet I’m still waiting to wake up next to Catherine Zeta-Jones some morning. So much for my wish coming true.

It’s my fault for not informing people that I make a practice on not forwarding chain emails and make a point to do the unthinkable…delete them. I do this for a couple of reasons: First, I am wary of the potential to pass along computer viruses and since these have been going around for years to thousands of people, surely something was picked up along the way and I don’t want to spread it to others. Second, if I fail to reply to one, which is also always requested, and then reply another, I feel like I’ve slighted the first party. Thus, if I make it a policy not to pass any along, I’ve slighted everyone…wait…I mean, I’ve slighted everyone equally. No matter how I put it, it sounds terrible.

One of the first sentences in a chain email usually is “This is true!” Since this has been going around for years and comes to you 10,000-hand, there’s no way to verify it.

Of course, chain letters have been going on for eons. No one knows who started them or when, and with the advent of the Internet, it just provides another medium from which to spread them. I am not aware if previous technologies were subject to becoming a transmitter of “chain” mail upon their invention. For all I know there were chain telegrams way back when. Perhaps Abraham Lincoln would have lived another 40 years if he had indeed, passed along such a telegram.

“Mary, I’m just gonna run out and forward this telegram.”

“Oh, Abe! Do it tomorrow! We’re late for the theater!”

I imagine a chain telegram started out pretty much the same as any “chain” mail in any technological form, with provisions for the particular technology built into the system.

“THIS STORY IS TRUE STOP SEND THIS TO FIVE PEOPLE STOP”

The technology before that could’ve been used, I suppose.

“Send out five more carrier pigeons and you will have good luck in a fortnight.”

Of course the technology of the time would have to be mobile so the earliest form of message technology could not have been used.

“Send this cave wall to five people…”

One aspect of chain mail that most people don’t appear to consider is that chain letters of any sort almost seem to ignore the idea of a deity of any type. If you think someone’s destiny relies upon whether he or she passes along an email, aren’t you discounting the notion God’s planned destiny for us? Is one’s fate determined not by God but by whether or not they forward such an email? On the other hand, you could say that God was the first to pass along a chain letter.

“Moses, send these Ten Commandments to five people and in two weeks you’ll have good luck…”

Naturally, he would’ve ended it with “Failure to pass along these Commandments will result in boils and a plague of locusts.”

So, if you sent me a chain email and I didn’t reply, please don’t take it personally. I’m not afraid to walk under a ladder, provided no one is standing on the ladder, or open umbrella indoors, especially of the ceiling is leaking.

I’ve never been overly superstitious, knock on wood.

Posted by dmargarita at 1:48 PM

February 9, 2009

In The News...

Sen. Norm Coleman ( R), MN., recently told a conservative radio station “God wants me to serve.” God, calling into the show, told Coleman that he misunderstood him and that he was referring to “hors d’ouerves.” God also apologized for giving the Bush administration faulty intelligence about Iraq’s WMD program.

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A 36-year-old Vermont woman is fine after being hit by a train while out snowmobiling with friends. Neither she nor her husband, Wile E. Coyote, could be reached for comment.

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News reports by the Sports Illustrated claim that New York Yankee star Alex Rodriguez tested positive for steroids in 2003. Former Red Sox pitcher Curt Schilling, who collected $8 million last year while not throwing a pitch but instead, just sat around on his ample buttocks, tested positive for hemorrhoids.

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Olympic swimmer Michael Phelps apologized for using “bad judgment” when a photo revealed him smoking marijuana from a bong. Phelps decided to apologize instead of his initial inclination to claim that the pipe was an “over-water breathing apparatus.” Phelps was charged with driving under the influence in 2004 and apologized then. Phelps also stated that there are several more drugs that he has yet to try and apologize for doing.

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Street artist Shepard Fairey (not to be confused with the mythical creature who leaves wool under your pillow) pleaded not guilty to vandalizing property in Boston, allegedly writing graffiti on the Boston University Bridge and on an overpass on Storrow Drive. Crack Boston detectives caught Fairey when the artist, like most artists, signed his work.

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Chinese officials deny government censorship to a U.N. Human Rights board in Switzerland. When contacted, several Chinese news outlets say they know nothing about it.

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The bad luck for China continued when a prestigious new, nearly finished luxury hotel went up in flames during a fireworks display. Chinese officials announced an end to their experimental “indoor fireworks” program. Fortunately, no one was injured as the community had been well prepared by performing several fire drills.

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The Chinese premier, Wen Jiabao, asked British officials to pardon a student who threw a shoe at him on Feb. 2 during a speech in London. Fortunately, Jiabao didn’t give the speech in the U.S. on February 2nd, as someone may have thrown a groundhog at him.

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President Barack Obama has offered to continue to compromise with congressional Republicans on his proposed stimulus package. The GOP says they’ll agree to a compromise of Obama dropping everything in the bill he wants, and just agreeing to what they want.

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Nadya Suleman, the woman who gave birth to octuplets, while already caring for six previous children, announced that she’ll intends to have one more baby to add to her octuplets to give her a potential future baseball team. Boston Red Sox General Manager Theo Epstein states, “That’s taking promoting from within to the extreme.” In an exclusive interview, NBC’s Ann Curry asked Shuleman “How will you feed all these children?” Shuleman replied that she is counting on evolution to provide her with several more breasts.

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Conservative pundit Ann Coulter is being investigated for potential voter fraud for voting in Connecticut while being registered to vote in the state of New York. This is not the first time Coulter has faced such accusations. In 2006 she was being investigated for potential voter fraud for voter fraud for voting in the wrong precinct in Florida, but the statute of limitations ran out before charges could be filed. Coulter appears regularly on Fox News, which also has been accused of fraud for posing as a news organization.

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Micah Grimes, a girl’s high school basketball coach at The Covenant School in Texas, was fired after refusing to apologize for his team beating an opponent 100-0. Other losers in the deal include gamblers who bet on Covenant to beat the point spread, which was 102 points.

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So goes all the news that’s fit to print…and stuff I’ll make up.

Posted by dmargarita at 2:57 PM

January 26, 2009

Bail Money

I think that this could be the worst porno flick ever:

Ding dong:

“Hi. Did somebody here request a $5 billion government financial bailout?”
“No, but as long as you’re here…”

This thought comes to mind because Hustler publisher Larry Flynt and Girls Gone Wild CEO Joe Francis have considered asking congress to bail out the porn industry. Hey, I couldn’t make this up if I tried.

Larry Flynt has long been a well-known figure in America, having fought before the Supreme Court in the case Hustler Magazine, Inc. v. Falwell (Seriously, why would I write fiction when reality is so fantastic?). That battle was depicted in the movie The People vs. Larry Flint, which starred former Cheers actor Woody Harrelson. I have to think that if Nicholas Colasanto, the actor who preceded Harrelson as “Coach” on the show hadn’t died, that he probably wouldn’t have landed the role of Larry Flynt in that film.

For those of you unfamiliar with Joe Francis, some evening when you can’t sleep, turn on any cable channel on TV. Chances are you’ll run into a Girls Gone Wild infomercial, the premise of which is that Mr. Francis and his cohorts convince drunken young women, who at the moment aren’t considering that videotape lasts longer than a buzz, to flash themselves for the TV cameras.

With congress doling out money to the banking and auto industries, Flynt and Francis seem to think that congress should consider their needs as well. According to msnbc.com, Flynt and Francis claim that XXX DVD sales are down 22 percent, which means that people will have to resort to using their imaginations or worse, begin having actual relationships with other human beings.

"People are too depressed to be sexually active," Flynt said in the statement.

If that’s true, it seems to me that the problem here is not the lack of sex, but the depression. In either case, there are pills that can take care of both of those problems (although Tom Cruise might disagree on the depression aspect).

"This is very unhealthy as a nation,” Flynt continued. “Americans can do without cars and such but they cannot do without sex" (Insert your own marriage joke here).

Maybe, but what will teenagers do without the back seats of cars?

“The US government should actively support the adult industry's survival and growth, just as it feels the need to support any other industry cherished by the American people," msnbc.com goes on to quote Flynt as saying.

I’m not sure that “cherish” is the right word in this instance. I doubt that Norman Rockwell would cite “baseball, apple pie and Hustler” as his idea of All-American institutions.

"With all this economic misery and people losing all that money, sex is the farthest thing from their mind,” Flynt concludes.

Really? Have you watched TV lately, Larry? I can’t watch a Bullwinkle cartoon without commercials for Viagra, Enzyte, Cialis or Levitra, not to mention a number of Victoria’s Secret ads being thrown at me. I guess he hasn’t seen the Girls Gone Wild infomercials, either.

It seems to me that during the Great Depression, the long lines of people you see in newsreels were lined up to get bread, not porn magazines.

I can’t imagine Bing Crosby singing:

“Brother, can you spare some porn?”

Perhaps along with food stamps, poor Americans can be also rationed out their share of pornography to help get them back on their feet, although I guess Mr. Flynt’s contention is that not enough American’s are staying off of their feet.

“Congress must rejuvenate the sexual appetite of America” Flynt stated. Aside from that statement giving me visuals of Congresswoman Nancy Pelosi that I don’t want in my head, one need only to read a newspaper and the goings on in congress to know that there’s nothing wrong with most American’s sexual appetite.

On the other hand (no pun intended), perhaps one doesn’t need porn to rejuvenate one’s sexual appetite…one needs to run for political office.

Posted by dmargarita at 4:29 PM

December 29, 2008

2008: The Year In Review

Once again another year draws to a close and it’s time to take a look back at the highlights (and lowlights) of the past year. That means it’s time for my annual Year In Review, which I write every year, hence the term “annual” (like that joke that I write every year).

Jan. 11: Sir Edmund Hillary, the first man to reach the summit of Mt. Everest, dies at age 88. Hundreds of people attend the service, although some admit to attending “because it was there.”

Feb 12: The Writer’s Guild of America ends their strike after 100 days. The WGA releases a statement: “As being good at writing, we’re happy that we can be writing again for professionally.”

Feb. 13: Former baseball pitcher Roger Clemens tells Congress “I have never taken steroids or HGH.” An angry Clemens then turns green, bursts through his clothes and destroys the room.

Feb. 19: After nearly 50 years as Cuba’s leader, Fidel Castro resigns from his post as President. However, his beard stays on the job.

Mar 17: Tibetan monks, tired of suffering under Chinese rule, riot in their capital, Lhasa. Authorities try to quell the violence by calling out the dogs. They are unsuccessful as those dogs are Lhasa Apso’s.

Mar. 12: New York governor and former District Attorney Eliot Spitzer announces his resignation after it is revealed that he had sexual relations with a prostitute named Ashley Alexandra Dupre. During the press conference, Spitzer’s wife, Silda Wall Spitzer, stands by his side. Ironically, a “Silda Wall Spitzer” is also the name of what most clients order from Ms. Dupre.

Apr. 5: Actor and former head of the National Rifle Association Charlton Heston dies at age 84. His family has to order an extra-large coffin as they are unable to pry his rifle out of his “cold, dead hands.”

April 17: Presidential candidate John McCain tells reporters “The fundamentals of America’s economy are strong.” McCain later defends this statement after America suffers an economic slump adding, “And I STILL say the Titanic is unsinkable!”

April 23 : An 72-year-old Austrian man named Josef Fritzl is arrested on suspicion of imprisoning his daughter for 24 years and fathering seven children with her. Soon afterwards, Fritzl signs a deal with Fox for a reality TV show to be called “The Fritzl Life.”

May 10: Jenna Bush is married at her father’s ranch in Crawford, TX. Her father, President Bush gives away the bride. Vice President Dick Cheney has the groom waterboarded.

May 15: The California Supreme Court Legalizes gay marriage, despite the fact that 50 percent of straight marriages end in divorce, making the phrase “gay marriage” seem like an oxymoron to 50 percent of the people that have done it.

Jun. 17: The Boston Celtics win their 17th NBA title, their first in over 20 years. After the game, players gather the ashes of former coach Red Auerbach and honor Auerbach by smoking them.

Jul. 14: Belgian brewer InBev announces that it is purchasing Anheuser-Busch. Budweiser proclaims that their product will now be referred to as the “Arch Duke of Beers.”

Jul. 30: After 13 years on the run, ex-Bosnian Serb leader Radovan Karadzic is extradited to face genocide charges at a U.N. war crimes tribunal. After a bail hearing, he is released on his own recognizance.

Aug. 8: Former Senator and presidential candidate John Edwards publicly admits to having an affair while his wife Elizabeth was battling cancer; also admits to having dated Terri Shiavo.

August 17: American swimmer Michael Phelps captures eight gold medals at the Beijing Olympics. Later, Phelps stops by the factory where the medals are cast to thank the slave laborers who made them.

Aug. 29: Republican Presidential candidate John McCain selects Gov. Sarah Palin of Alaska as his Vice Presidential nominee. Palin becomes the hottest GOP VP nominee since Alf Landon selects Frank Knox in 1936.

Palin tells ABC journalist Charlie Gibson she has insight into Russia because “There are parts of Russia you can see from Alaska.” She adds that since she can see the stars at night, she is qualified to be an astronaut.

Sept. 22: Chinese Premiere Wen Jiabao apologizes when it’s revealed that four children died and thousands were sickened when baby formula is found to have been poisoned with the chemical, melamine. Premiere Jiabao explains, “I assure you, that formula was merely intended to poison Russian journalists.”

Sept. 26: Somali pirates hijack the Ukrainian tanker Faina, which is loaded with Russian arms. The authorities wait three days to discover what the pirate’s demands arrggghhh.

Oct. 3: A $700 bailout bill for the nation’s financial institutions is approved by Congress and signed into law by President Bush. Freddie Mac cancels its plans to foreclose on the White House.

Oct. 15: Madonna and husband Guy Ritchie announce their divorce after eight years of marriage. Ritchie later changes his name to “Guy Lonely.”

Oct. 27: Ted Stevens, the 84-year-old Senator from Alaska is convicted of corruption charges but calls the charges “unjust.” He later calls arthritis “unjust.”

Nov. 4: Barack Obama becomes the first black man elected president of the United States of America; the second if you count Bill Clinton (apologies to Toni Morrison).

Later that night, during Obama’s acceptance speech in Chicago’s Grant Park, the Rev. Jesse Jackson is seen weeping in the crowd. Whether it is jubilation over Obama’s victory, or sorrow that Obama, and not he, Jackson, is giving the speech, is unknown.

Nov 26: Edna Scott Parker, of Shelbyville, In., said to be the world’s oldest person, dies at 115. Her family immediately cancels her reservations for her high school class reunion.

Dec. 9: Illinois Governor Rod Blagojevich is arrested and charged with attempting to sell the senate seat vacated by the election of Barack Obama. He also offers to sell Joe Biden his hair plugs.

Dec. 14: At a press conference in Baghdad, a reporter hurls two shoes at President Bush. Bush later states “I don’t remember getting married.” The journalist is arrested and charged with attempted murder when it is learned that before throwing the shoes, he removed the Odor Eaters.

As we close the books on another year, I want to wish you a safe and Happy New Year…and for me, a funny one.

Posted by dmargarita at 7:29 PM

December 15, 2008

A Midsummer Night's Christmas

“‘Twas the night before Christmas and at Santa’s beach house, Mrs. Claus in the hot tub, not wearing a blouse.”

Well, that may be how the famous poem should read now that astronomers have concluded that the Star of Bethlehem may have been one of a series of astrological occurrences in June of the period, thus placing Jesus’ birth date in June, not December.

This puts an entirely new light on how the birth of Jesus could have gone, not to mention how we would’ve viewed Santa Claus if we’d considered Christmas a warm-weather event. Indeed, perhaps Santa would be located in the Gobi Desert instead of the North Pole.

Can you see a slim, tanned Old Saint Nick in a red T-shirt and Bermuda shorts? A warm-weather Santa would be more likely to use camels and not reindeer to pull his sleigh. Perhaps it’s time that we update Clement Moore’s famous poem anyway, as it should probably be made more politically correct and inclusive.

“On Kandi, on Tammy, on Brandi (with an “I”) and Stacey! On Darnell, on Hammed, on Rufus and Gracie!”

According to MSNBC’s website, one of the events that occurred in 3 B.C. (did anyone ever look at a calendar back then and wonder what “B.C.” meant?), was when Jupiter passed so closely to Venus that they may have looked like one star. This rare grouping of planets, according to MSNBC (yeah, like I’d know this without the Internet), is called a “conjunction” and now we know its function (you have to be over forty to get that).

This June scenario certainly makes it more likely that the Three Wisemen would have walked hundreds of miles to follow a star, although one might question the wisdom of such a journey at any time of the year. Then again, bringing frankincense to an infant as a gift doesn’t make all that much sense, either.

A recent report by the Associated Press states that with easing tensions, tourism in Bethlehem is on the rise again after political violence had subdued the industry for years. Hotels and motels are booked solidly through January. Legendary philosopher, Charlie Brown, noted as far back as 1965 that Christmas has gotten increasingly commercial and I don’t envision that it is any different now in Bethlehem.

I can imagine some of the cheesier motel names.

“The No Room At The Inn Inn.”

Being solidly booked, they would appropriately be flashing a “No Vacancy” sign.

Perhaps the “Manger Motel” in the actual Manger Square could sell out without advertising “Free Adult Movies.” They would be more inclined to have a sign that reads “Ox and Lambs Welcome.” It is still a conservative part of the world, so Western travelers going there should not expect to see “The Gaza Strip Club.”

Modern day pilgrims might as well forget about bringing gold, frankincense and myrrh to Bethlehem. These days you can’t get toothpaste on an airplane, much less myrrh…unless, of course, you have your myrrh in a clear, zip-lock baggie.

Upon entering the country you’d have to declare gold, one would assume. Your best bet is to change currency before you leave your port of departure. In the current economic climate the dollar isn’t getting a good exchange rate in too many places, and probably never got a good exchange rate for the shekel. That might have had something to do with why Jesus turned over the moneychanger’s table.

Here in this season of peace and love (perhaps you should stay away from newspapers for a while), I want to wish my Christians friends a Merry Christmas and my Jewish friends, Happy Hanukah.

As for my atheist friends, enjoy the day off.

Seriously, peace and love to you all.

Posted by dmargarita at 4:34 PM

December 1, 2008

No AND's or BUT's About It

AND I don’t know about you, but I was always told that you should never start a sentence with the words “AND” or “BUT” when I was in school. BUT as you can see, I did anyway.

This was a cardinal rule that I was taught in elementary school. However, you can pick up any major newspaper or magazine in the country and find writers who think nothing of starting a sentence with the words “AND” or “BUT.”

Am I now to disregard every lesson I was taught in elementary school? Is it okay to cross the street without looking either way? Should I gladly accept rides from strangers? Is it really a good idea to put my hand in a bowl of warm water before I go to sleep? If Johnny Jones jumps off the Brooklyn Bridge, is it now okay for me to do it too?

While I wouldn’t ascribe this new philosophy to a post-9/11 world, we do live in a different time, grammatically speaking. I learned in the Sean Connery movie Finding Forrester, a film about a writing prodigy, that it is commonly accepted that you can start a sentence with “AND” or “BUT” these days and no one will think any less of you. I also learned from the Sean Connery movie Goldfinger that if you’re a British spy, you can seduce any woman you wish to. Of course, if her name is Pussy Galore, your chances are probably pretty good even if you’re a CPA, BUT I digress.

It seems to me that the words “AND” and “BUT” indicate a connection to, or a continuation of, a previous sentence or statement. The period at the end of said previous sentence or statement should indicate that that sentence or statement has ended (duh). Yes, I just used the word “that” twice in a row and while it may sound odd or read strangely on the page, I think it is acceptable despite my spell-check’s insistence on highlighting it as a repeated word.

As a baseball fan, one recent grammatical change I’m having a hard time dealing with is when broadcasters and writers, referring to the abbreviation of the phrase “Runs Batted In” as “RBI” instead of the long-held “RBI’s.”

Referring to more than one RBI requires some sort of plurality. I realize that it’s the first word, “runs” that is plural, but when the whole term is abbreviated, it becomes a singular entity. A good example would be the phrase “prisoners of war” or “POW’s.” You wouldn’t say, “Several Allied soldiers became POW.” It would be even more confusing, if during a baseball game among prisoners, several POW knocked in many RBI. If you don’t want to refer to them as “RBI’s” you can refer to them as “R’s BI.” Of course, since it’s the beginning of December, this isn’t an issue I’ve had to think about with much lately.

I’m not one to generally succumb to peer pressure, but seeing as this practice is considered acceptable, I have to admit, I’ve tried starting a sentence with “AND or “BUT” on a few occasions (which made me feel so daring and Bond-like). It just didn’t seem right. I felt that somehow my fourth grade teacher Miss McQuinn would seek me out and slap me around. I’m speaking proverbially, of course. She’s a sweet, gentle woman who’d never hurt a soul.

While knowing that starting a sentence with “AND” or “BUT” is an acceptable, commonplace practice, I still try to avoid doing so.

If I do it again, I wouldn’t blame Miss McQuinn for finding me and kicking my BUT.

Posted by dmargarita at 5:30 PM

November 17, 2008

To Pee or Not to Pee

“To everything, turn, turn turn” says the book of Ecclesiastes. Okay, let’s face it. You know it from a song by the ‘60’s rock band The Byrds. “A time for everything” also means that there is a time to NOT to do some things such as: make a cell phone call…especially when you’re driving, performing surgery or perhaps most importantly, going about your business at a men’s room urinal.

Last week my sister and I went to Chicago for the Chicago Bears Alumni dinner and football game. No, I didn’t play for the Bears, nor did my sister Jean, although she was quite a speedster in her time.

Our late father, Bob Margarita, was a member of the Bears in the 1940’s, which although he has passed, has enabled us to become part of the Bears’ family and get invited to Alumni Weekend. Hey, I’ll ride my Dad’s coattails if it means a free dinner, a cheap price at a five-star hotel and free tickets to a game. I doubt Julian Lennon is complaining too much about living off his father’s name.

Anyway, there are plenty of things to do in Chicago and even if you’ve done them before, by the time you’ve had a chance to do other things, you don’t mind doing the first things over again.

One of the things I did was go to the top of the Hancock Tower Observation Deck. The big change from the last time I was there was the new version of audio tour headsets, which now feature visuals to help you follow along with what the narrator is describing. Oh yeah, the narrator is actor David Schwimmer, aka, the weak link on the TV show Friends. Unfortunately, his narration is as wooden and forced as his acting.

The view from the 94th floor is stunning and what information David Schwimmer doesn’t give you, can be found on the walls of the inside of the deck. Did you know that Chicago was where the Ferris wheel and the Twinkie were invented? More importantly, it was where the zipper was invented. This would come in handy for my trip to Soldier Field.

As the late, great voice of NFL Films, John Facenda might put it, “It was a blustery November day as the Midwest winds howled and a brief but intense flurry came across the plains of Soldier Field.”

As someone from Southie might put it, “Everybody was gettin’ wick-id hamm-ahd!”

Well, a few spectators were, anyhow. Not that anybody was obnoxious but in the true spirit of tailgating, fans had lubricated themselves before the game and were tipping some cold ones during the game.

My eighth grade health teacher told us that alcohol made you warmer, even if it was a cold beer. I suppose she was trying to discourage us from drinking, but I doubt she figured we could use that as an excuse to drink in the wintertime.

As a consequence, this tailgate Sunday resulted in perpetually long lines at the men’s and ladies’ room. Of course, ladies room lines tend to be longer anyway, but that’s a discussion for another day (I don’t know how you ladies get through it).

Like any middle-aged man, at some point my bladder reached its capacity, but seeing the long lines for the men’s rooms, plus not wanting to miss any of the game, I chose to wait.

It seemed logical that if there is a line, that line will eventually subside. Well, the beer line, where patrons can only purchase one beer per person, didn’t subside (likely because they only sell one beer per person), which was why the men’s room lines (and women’s room lines) didn’t subside.

At some point, I could wait no more. I plunged into the queue and waited my turn.

There are certain protocols in a men’s room. Keep your eyes straight ahead or down and don’t try to strike up a conversation while going about your business.

These are, of course, unwritten rules. You can scour the U.S. Constitution and The Declaration of Independence all you want and you’ll never see the phrase “bathroom etiquette” mentioned once.

While not an unwritten rule, it seems common sense not to be making a call on your cell phone while in the act. Suppose you drop it. Are you going to retrieve it? Is the call that important? Couldn’t it have waited?

The gentleman making such a call didn’t have that happen, but he did incur the ridicule of the men in line behind him, who provided their own version of his conversation for our amusement.

“Hey, Ma…is it supposed to be this small?”

He was so wrapped up in his conversation that he never realized that he was being mercilessly mocked.

The funny thing about having to pee is that the closer you get to the opportunity to do so, the worse you have to go. Having been such a cold day, as previously mentioned, I dressed for the occasion with a jacket, four sweatshirts (one hooded, in true Belichick style), a T-shirt, two pairs of socks and two pairs of pants.

I don’t suffer from stage fright, at least not the men’s room kind, but with an extensive line behind me, the pressure was on…in every sense.

Fortunately, I completed the task successfully and I was extremely glad that my two pairs’ jeans weren’t in the old fashion “button fly” style, all because of a great Chicago invention…the zipper.

You were wondering how I was going to tie all of this in, weren’t you?

Then I was able to go back and watch the game in peace.

Too bad they didn’t sell Twinkies.

Posted by dmargarita at 11:52 AM

October 20, 2008

Back In The U.U.U.K.

In 1957, four young lads from Liverpool formed a rock and roll group. They didn’t set out to change the world or popular music or fashion in general. As it turned out, they didn’t, as none of that happened and the group went nowhere; however their friends, The Beatles, did quite well.

Nearly 20 years ago a friend of mine sent me a postcard from Liverpool which claimed (as read aloud by my Depression era-raised father) “Liverpool is a dirty, dirty, dirty city. It is like the asshole of Lowell.” Sorry, Lowell friends. I’m only quoting.

As a lifelong Beatles fan, I decided to make the most of my trip to the U.K by making a side trip to Liverpool where the Fab Four were born, raised, learned their musical craft and often drank tea.

When my friend (who shall remain nameless for his own safety) was there, he said that there wasn’t that much in the way of Beatles tourism, which quite surprised me. I was very pleased to see that is no longer the case and that in fact, Liverpool has come a long way in twenty years (as has Lowell). Not only has the city had a revival, but it has been named the “European Capital of Culture 2008” which kicked off with former Beatle’s drummer Ringo Starr performing atop St. George’s Hall to begin the festivities.

There are various Beatle tours and I opted for the Magical Mystery Tour bus, which passed by the houses where the boys were born or grew up in, including John Lennon’s Aunt Mimi’s house where she told him “The guitar’s all very well John, but you’ll never make a living out of it.” Sadly, Ringo’s childhood home is the only one on its block still lived in, as the others are boarded up, awaiting demolition by the city.

After a trip to the gates of Strawberry Fields, we go to Penny Lane. The bank is still on the corner but of course the banker moved his motor car, perhaps at the request of the police. The barber shop is still there but it is a hair salon now and the bus shelter is still in the middle of the roundabout (a “rotary” to us Yanks) but the pretty nurse who sold poppies from a tray has probably long since retired.

The absolute “must see” in Liverpool is The Cavern Club where the Beatles made their name and were discovered by their future manager, Brian Epstein. Okay, so it’s not the original Cavern Club, but a reconstructed version on nearly 70 percent (50 percent according to one postcard, but 70 percent according to two bartenders and a patron there) of the original site, using some 115,000 of the original bricks.

While I was there I discovered that Neil Innes, a member of the cast of Eric Idle’s (Monty Python’s Flying Circus) classic Beatles spoof The Rutles: All You Need Is Cash, would be performing the next evening.

The next day, after a tour of Albert Dock where I visited a surprisingly interesting Maritime Museum, I stopped to have lunch by the water next to a tall ship that flew the skull and crossbones famous "Jolly Roger." There were few crew members on deck but none possessed a wooden leg, an eye patch or a parrot. Also located at Albert Dock is a museum called The Beatles Story, which true to its name, revolves around the story of The Beatles. It contains lots of Beatles memorabilia as well as recollections of those who knew the Beatles in their youth, not to mention members of the Beatles forerunners, The Quarrymen.

The Cavern, which is replicated exactly like the original, is a long, narrow room with large brick columns on each side, beyond which contains more space for patrons on the outer sides of the room. Frankly, it’s not a great place to watch a show and patrons from the club’s heyday recall that the poor ventilation, the smoke, the sweat and condensation on the brick walls from the sweat, caused a putrid smell that made one’s presence in the packed room known to passersby upon exiting the club.

Before Neil Innes’ show, the club featured a trio from Japan called “The Japanese Sketch.” I knew they were pretty good because I had heard them the day before playing outside the club for spare change. The lead singer apologized for his broken English, which was certainly better than my Japanese, and then went into a nearly flawless Paul McCartney impression on the song “Yesterday.”

Neil Innes and his band Fatso (which included Rutles drummer Barry Wom, aka John Halsey) performed in an adjacent room, which was much better suited for performing than the rebuilt Cavern Club and after a 30 second song called “Test, 1-2, Test” he launched into three Rutles songs. For those of you unfamiliar with this brilliant Beatles parody, see: YouTube.

After a wonderfully entertaining show, I went back into the main club where a Beatles tribute band called “The Mersey Beats” played. So what if the guy playing George looked more like Paul than the guy playing Paul or that the guy playing John looked more like "Screech" from Saved By the Bell? The packed house made it seem like I was transported back to 1961, minus the smoke, which club and restaurant patrons aren’t allowed to do in Britain these days.

After that I went across the alley to The Cavern Pub which contains several rare photos of the Beatles at The Cavern Club, and I was able to impress a few locals with me Liverpudlian accent. Indeed, it was like being in a colorized version of the movie A Hard Day’s Night although, I know that was mostly shot in London.

For Beatles fans, one needn’t make the long trip from London to get to Liverpool, as they have their own airport, the John Lennon Airport (I think Gerry Marsden from “Gerry & The Pacemakers” has a taxi stand).

So, if Beatle fans are wondering if there’s much to do and see in Liverpool, I can only say:

“Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!”

Posted by dmargarita at 1:56 PM

September 25, 2008

Stadium Daze

Let me state right off the bat, that I don’t hate the New York Yankees. Oh, and sorry for the “bat” pun…and that one, too.

This past Sunday night, the Yankees played their final game at Yankee Stadium, also known as “The House That Ruth Built.” There won’t be anymore games there this season because as has been much noted here in the Boston area, THE YANKEES WON’T BE IN THE PLAYOFFS FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE 1993…but again, I don’t hate the Yankees.

As a baseball fan I’m always happy to travel to ballparks other than Fenway Park (yes, there are ballparks other than Fenway) to see a game. Thus, I felt the urge to see storied Yankee Stadium one last time before it becomes yet another piece of rubble in the Bronx.

There are numerous ways to get to the ballpark, located in the South Bronx, from downtown. One is by car. The last person I know who did that, had his car broken into and several things stolen, including his tax returns.

The most common method of travel is by subway, on the D line which takes you to 161st Street. If you’re unsure as to which train to get on, just follow the mass of people wearing Yankees gear.

My ticket was for Row B, Seat 13 in the upper deck. One might reasonably assume that Row B would be the second row, but instead I found that much to my confusion, not only was the first row, Row “A” but that the second row was also Row “A”. The third row was Row B, as was the fourth row, and so on and so on.

I was able to figure out which Row “B” I was supposed to be in because I assumed the person sitting in the other Row B, seat 13, knew where he or she was supposed to be.

Having left an unseasonably chilly Boston, I dressed for the same weather in NYC but instead found my seats to be in the sun on a very hot and humid day. Being in seat thirteen meant that to get up and leave to go for a beverage, food or a men’s room break, I would have to inconvenience at least twelve people in either direction.

For a Red Sox fan, going into Yankee Stadium makes you feel like a cat trying to sneak into a dog pound. However, I’m not one of those fans who will wear Sox clothing into Yankee Stadium looking for a fight. I’m crazy, not stupid. In fact, since the Yankees were facing the Tampa Bay Rays, who are ahead of the Red Sox in the standings, I found myself in the unusual position of rooting for the Yankees. Sure, that may sound like General Custer’s wife rooting for the Sioux Indians, but if Mrs. Custer had a big bet on the Indians and knew her husband would still come home safe, she might make the wager.

As columnist and friend Bob Ryan recently noted in the Boston Globe, the current Yankee Stadium is NOT the same one that Babe Ruth played in. Okay, I’ve never actually met Bob Ryan, but I saw him at Doyle’s Pub once.

The current ballpark was constructed on the grounds of the original and opened in time for the 1976 season, and saw the Yankees win their first pennant since 1964. Not having currently won a pennant since 2001, that could be the reason why Yankee owner George Steinbrenner decided to open a new ballpark next door. If they win next season, he may construct yet another ballpark for the 2010 season.

Yes, I contemplated just what I might be able to take home as a souvenir, such as “Row B” but I settled for a couple of souvenir soda cups instead. That wasn’t enough for some fans though, as several news outlets reported that fans were trying to take seat number plates, a floor drain and even one guy who tried to steal a toilet seat. I can only assume that he figured that someone in the memorabilia market would pay big money for some remnants of The Babe’s e-coli bacteria.

Oh yeah, I forgot…The Babe didn’t do that in the current Stadium, either.

Posted by dmargarita at 11:48 AM

August 25, 2008

Subtitle Titles (and their subtitles)

I readily admit that I don’t read nearly as much as I’d like to or should. Fortunately, books these days seem to have long subtitles that tell me what the book is about that I don’t need to bother reading the book.

It seems to occur mainly with non-fiction books so, although in the old days you never saw a book such as Oliver Twist: The story of an orphaned British boy and his journey through a cruel childhood of exploitation by the British government charity agencies and a series of street people during Victorian times (or was it Edwardian?), you also don’t see Stephen King’s Misery: The story of a mentally disturbed woman who holds her favorite author hostage after rescuing him from an automobile accident and forces him to revive her favorite character from one of his books. By the way, if you haven’t read the latter book or seen the movie…sorry for the spoiler.

A look through the non-fiction section of a local book store gives us In Justice: Inside the scandal that rocked the Bush administration by David Iglesias.

Okay, that’s pretty simple but the award for the longest title goes to Fleeced: How Barack Obama, media mockery of the terrorist threat, liberals who want to kill talk radio, the do-nothing congress, companies that help Iran and Washington lobbyists for foreign governments are scamming us…and what to do about it by Dick Morris. I’m guessing it took him nearly as long to write the title of the book as the book itself. “Fleeced” could also describe anyone who spends $26.95 to buy this book.

That title length is rivaled by Makers and Takers: Why conservatives work harder, feel happier, have closer families (perhaps referring to many Republican congressmen’s first, second or third marriages), take fewer drugs (I guess he’s excluding Rush Limbaugh), give more generously, value honesty more (for rebuttal, see: White House), are less materialistic (despite the average CEO pay of $14.2 million), whine less (ignore what former congressman Phil Gramm says)…and even hug their children more than liberals (not sure how he’s backing that up with statistics) by Peter Schweizer. The title is much shorter without my commentary.

Let’s take a look at some of the other books currently on the shelves and on the New York Times bestseller list that have either shorter or no subtitles:

There’s Life With My Sister Madonna by Christopher Ciccone. No, Madonna has not become a nun, but is in fact the sister of Christopher Ciccone.

What I Talk About When I Talk About Running by Haruki Murakami. Hopefully, he talks about something more interesting than the title.

Stori Telling by Tori Spelling. If her writing ability is the equivalent of her acting ability, the title might be the most clever thing about the book.

When You Are Engulfed In Flames by David Sedaris. This is a collection of essays from the humorist and not a public service manual on what to do during a fire emergency. It is important to know, however…to “stop, drop and roll.”

Certain titles were always pretty self-explanatory and didn’t need a subtitle. Let’s give them one anyway, shall we?

The Dictionary: A collection of words and phrases that explain their proper pronunciation, meaning and spelling for people who are uncertain of the spelling, pronunciation and/or meaning of said words or phrases.

Certainly, the best-selling book of all time doesn’t need a subtitle, but that won’t stop me from adding one.

The Bible: The story of how God created the earth in seven days and of his son Jesus’ death and resurrection for our sins.

While I suppose that atheists would consider this particular book as fiction, this book is really in fact two books: The Old Testament and The New Testament. If you think about it, these books are sort of like the movies The Godfather and The Godfather II. As The Godfather II is Michael’s story, The New Testament is Jesus’ story, although Jesus doesn’t have anybody “whacked.”

Let’s hope the Evangelists don’t get their way for a third book, or The Even Newer Testament in which The Rapture occurs and the world ends. That would be even worse than The Godfather III.

As a writer, I find myself watching authors on C-Span II’s Booknotes on occasion, sometimes out of professional curiosity and sometimes out of a need to find something that will put me to sleep at 3 a.m.

I should definitely spend more time reading but when I can get all the info on books that I need from book reviews, C-Span and subtitles, I really don’t need to read more.

Perhaps I can start working soon on my memoirs. I already have the title picked out: The Other Shoe: a look at one man’s struggle to write funny things and more importantly, fill up space in his hometown newspaper while trying to make sense out of a crazy world.

Posted by dmargarita at 2:04 PM

August 11, 2008

When The Worst Seat Is Best

There are certain things in this life that I find life-affirming. Among them are: love, mint chocolate chip ice cream…and a Bruce Springsteen concert.

Less then a week after my father’s passing, the Boss came to town to play at Gillette Stadium. I really needed some life-affirming intervention at that point. “Love” wasn’t an option that day and mint chocolate chip ice cream is bad for my cholesterol. As fate would have it, on the day of the show a friend hooked me up with someone looking to unload two tickets for the concert. I had to think that a higher power was at work, whether it was God or my Dad, looking down on me to give me this much needed break. I just have to wonder why He or he had to accompany it with such crappy weather.

I took my sister Mimi to the show and the traffic wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, but that might have been because it looked like most of the concert-goers had been there for three hours, drinking beer and grilling burgers.

As we found our seats, we discovered that we were on the complete opposite end of the stadium and those beings that we could make out setting up the stage were barely visible. Luckily for us, we were underneath the upper deck so that if it did rain, we were not going to get wet. The show was scheduled for 7:30 and I was informed that Springsteen normally took an hour after that to start his shows. With skies darkening however, it was clear that they were going to delay the start of the show well beyond that time.

Then thunder erupted, lightening bolts cracked the sky and torrential rains descended upon the stadium. My sister screamed and said “What did you take me to!?” Suddenly, it appeared that having lousy seats was a blessing. The patrons on the field in the “good” seats scrambled for cover. Perhaps they were trying to avoid getting drenched, although that was no longer an issue by that point. More likely, they didn’t want to be standing on the temporary aluminum floor put over the field surface while lightening bolts that would’ve please Dr. Frankenstein appeared repeatedly in spectacular fashion.

At 9:20 p.m., Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band took the stage. Starting with a cover of Eddie Cochran’s “Summertime Blues” the Boss ran through songs old and new as well as a few other cover songs.

Springsteen frequently went to the front of the stage to sing to/with the crowd, but being so far away, I could only watch the show on the large TV screens on each side of the stage. It was on several shots of the crowd taken from the stage that I could clearly see that a former girlfriend of mine was in the front row. Sure, she got a close glimpse of the Rock icon and maybe got to shake hands with him…but she probably also got soaked.

Springsteen may be 58-years-old, but he is in great shape and puts out more energy that most artists half his age could probably manage during a show. At one point he sprinted across the stage and hit his knees, sliding about 10-12 feet. If Manny Ramirez had put in that kind of effort, he’d probably still be wearing a Red Sox uniform.

Bruce apologized for the late start but made up for it, extending the show past curfew. That was made clear by the folks at Gillette Stadium turning on the lights in a “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here” manner. Springsteen ignored the not-so-subtle hint and played on. At one point he told the crowd “This one’s for ‘The Coach.’ I know he’s out there somewhere.”

While he was certainly referring to New England Patriot’s Coach Bill Belichick, my sister and I wanted to believe that he was talking about Dad.

Since our seats were near the exit and close to Route 1, we were able to get out of there quickly and be home in just over an hour, while those in the “good” seats likely sat in traffic for hours.

That turned out to be just another benefit of having lousy seats.

Posted by dmargarita at 1:55 PM

July 29, 2008

The Greatest Man I Ever Knew

The quote says that “Some are born great, some achieve greatness and others have greatness thrust upon them.” Somehow it seems that my father, Bob Margarita, who passed away on Monday, July 28 at age 87, managed to fit into all three categories.

He died peacefully at home surrounded by his children whom he dearly loved and who dearly loved him, along with his beloved dog Jake.

My siblings and I are of course saddened at the loss of our father, but we have also been able to share numerous smiles at the many wonderful memories we have of him. Though his soft voice and gentle manner will no longer grace our presence, his presence in not only in our lives, but the lives of so many whom he touched throughout his long life, made an indelible impact.

As a child, I know I bragged about his storied athletic career. That’s a pretty natural thing for a boy; to confuse his father’s athletic success with greatness. Children always see professional athletes as heroes, as do many adults.

A star athlete at Medford High, Brown University and then the Chicago Bears, my father also was scouted as a catcher by the Detroit Tigers and took infield with them when they came to town to play the Red Sox at Fenway Park.

When his playing days were over, he became a football coach at many colleges including Harvard, Yale, Boston University and took a Georgetown team to the Sun Bowl, while at the time, the youngest college head football coach in the country. So you see, I had plenty to brag about.

As I grew up I got to see that the true measure of his greatness wasn’t in his professional career, but in the way he lived his life and loved his family.

After a successful second season as a running back and defensive back with the Chicago Bears, he retired to spend time with my mother and their son Bobby, who suffered from spina bifida. He did come out of retirement when the Bears asked him to as they were heading toward the 1946 NFL Championship. After the Bears won the championship game my father retired from playing for good.

Having an intimate knowledge of George Halas’ famed T Formation, he was one of the most sought after college football coaches in the country, but knowing my mother wanted to stay close to her roots, he bypassed numerous high-paying jobs at big-name colleges to stay fairly close to home. How many of us would do that?

During a brief stint as a teacher/coach at Wayland High, the principal came into his class one day to tell him that he had a phone call from Los Angeles in his office for my father. A long distance phone call from LA was a pretty big deal in those days. My father returned and explained that the call had been from the owner of the Los Angeles Dons of the new All America Football Conference, an attempted rival to the NFL.

He explained to the principal that the Dons had offered him a contract of $40, 000, an incredible sum for the time, to come out of retirement and play for them. The principal was stunned when my father told him he had declined the offer.

He continued to turn down lucrative coaching offers to stay in the area. At one point, he took a job as a salesman, which paid reasonably well. As he explained to me one day, he realized that he wasn’t happy in that job and really just wanted to be and belonged on a football field, so when the opportunity to coach again came along, he jumped at the chance.

He finally got what I think he thought of as his dream job when he was hired in 1964 as a teacher and football coach in his hometown of Stoneham, Ma. This would cement his local legend status.

As a teacher, he was often assigned the tough kids because, as a former administrator once explained to me, he was “the only one that could handle them.”

Perhaps his stocky build and powerful forearms helped, but more likely it was his gentle nature and the fact that he treated them fairly and with respect, which I know they recognized because some of them told me that.

After retiring from teaching in 1987, he took the job as equipment manager for Stoneham High Athletics. Ever-present at the school and various sporting events with one of his many dogs, he continued to be loved by many generations of students.

I couldn’t begin to count the number of times someone told me how much my father meant to them or of a kindness he did for them, such as helping them get into a certain college or getting a certain job.

After his induction as a charter member of the Stoneham High Athletic Hall of Fame (also a charter member of the Brown University and Medford High Hall of Fame), he received a note from a former student who told him how much he meant to her and that he was the inspiration for her interest in history and is a constant reader of historical novels due to his influence. He was as proud of that note as any accolade or accomplishment that he ever received in football. He showed the note to anyone and everyone who came by the house or told of the note to anyone whom he spoke to on the phone.

He had been in declining health for quite a while and spent time in various hospitals and nursing homes. Yet, he always managed to keep us laughing because I know he didn’t want us to worry about him. When he was last brought to the hospital and it didn’t look like he’d survive the day, he woke up at one point and saw my brothers Jimmy and Johnny and in a booming voice said “Jimmy, you’re not only smarter than Johnny, you’re better looking!” which of course cracked them up. He then fell right back to sleep.

When it was determined by the doctors that nothing more could be done for him, he came back to his home of “54 years” as he proudly noted to a healthcare worker, which made him very happy.

Upon being brought into the house, the first thing he said was "Hi Jake! Hi Jake!" despite the presence of four of his children. The next thing he said after looking around was a relieved "I'm home." His last two audible full sentences were "I love you" to all of us and then (I'm not making this up) "Where's Jake?"

Yes, he had quite a professional career as a player and then a teacher and coach, but it was his even more successful roles of husband, father and human being that made him without a doubt, the greatest man I ever knew.

Posted by dmargarita at 4:14 PM

April 22, 2008

Reality Land

As I’ve all-too-often noted in this space, I grew up watching what we currently call “Classic” TV. Now the TV channel that features Classic TV has resorted to being like every other TV network.

Fans of TV Land may have noticed promos for some of their new reality shows such as “High School Reunion” which gathers together members of a high school class from 1987, including “the jock, the popular girl, the stud, the bully and the geek.” My question is, if you don’t care about what became of those particular people from your own high school, why would you care about people you’ve never met?

With nearly 60 years of network programming available, can’t they find enough quality shows to fill their time slots? It seems to me that the whole premise of TV Land was to show quality entertainment that took middle-aged people back to a time when TV was good and clean; a time of innocence from our youth when all things seemed possible and we hadn’t yet had a chance to screw up our lives and wonder “where it all went wrong.”

One TV Land show is “I Pity The Fool” which you can probably guess by the title, stars Mr. T. I think the full title of this show should be “I Pity The Fool…Who Is So Starved For Entertainment They’re Reduced To Watching This Crap.” It’s the one show that the network website doesn’t even bother to provide a synopsis for, meaning that even they probably don’t think very highly of it.

Another show that’s advertised a lot is “The Big 4-0” where various people are shown celebrating their 40th birthday. This is a TV show? Unless they’re celebrating their 40th birthday by breaking into Fort Knox, creating peace in the Middle East or finding a cure for male pattern baldness, I’m not interested.

There’s “She’s Got The Look” about gorgeous women over 35 getting a chance to be a supermodel (which means they have the ability to leap tall catwalks in a single bound?) once again. It’s great to see some women who aren’t ridiculously skinny 19-year-olds get a chance at modeling, but I suspect that alternate choices for a title might have been “She’s Got The Stretch Marks” or “She’s Got The Cellulite.”

The other network which has really disappointed me lately is The History Channel which seems to rely more and more on programming that revolves around Bigfoot and/or aliens. What do these have to do with history? Okay, if Bigfoot or aliens had been at the Alamo or the Battle of Bunker Hill, or affected the outcome of the Boer War, then you’ve got a history story. If these are history subjects, I should ask my father, renowned Stoneham High School history teacher Bob Margarita, why we never studied “aliens” in his class.

The History Channel website lists 25 titles under the categories of “UFO Files” and “UFO Hunters.” Conversely, there are just six titles under the category of “Vietnam: The Ten Thousand Day War.”

The last title under the “UFO Hunters” category is listed as “USO’s.” I’m not sure if that’s a misspelling of if they’re implying that there’s some question as to whether or not the USO really exists. Were our troops waiting to be deployed overseas being given imaginary coffee and doughnuts by imaginary USO workers?

The network isn’t solely limited to UFO’s, of course. They have a category called “Monster Quest” which features titles such as “Mutant Canines,” “The Real Hobbit” and “Russia’s Killer Apemen.” Once upon a time, they were known as the KGB.

There are a few shows revolving around a series of recent incidents over the skies of Texas. People have claimed to see machines flying overhead with bright lights. If I had to guess, I’d say they probably were over Crawford, Texas and had markings that read things like “KTEX TV,” “U.S. Air Force” and “The United States Of America.”

Sadly, these networks have fallen into the trap of keeping up with the major networks that have come to rely heavily on reality shows for their programming. That simply reflects the world we live in where anyone can create their own TV show, like the disturbing story of the high school cheerleaders who beat up one of their own and then posted it on Youtube. Sure, if they had been in uniform and done that in Jello, it would’ve still been disturbing but at least a little hot.

I wonder if 40 years from now a middle-aged person will sit down in front of a TV (if they still exist) and fondly watch a rerun of their favorite show from their youth and have it be “The Big 4-0.”

I pity the fool.

Posted by dmargarita at 3:08 PM

March 10, 2008

Enough Time

As if adding an extra day to February wasn’t bad enough, now we have to remember to change our clocks and lose an hour of sleep. At any rate, I think that’s how that goes.

I’m sure you couldn’t help but be aware that February, the coldest, bleakest month of the year, at least in these here parts, got to be extended an extra day this year due to 2008 being a Leap Year. What, they couldn’t have given us July 32nd?

I suppose that would have messed up that little reminder poem, which is already kind of messed up anyway.

“30 days has September, April, June and November. All the rest have 31…except for February which has 28 days, not including Leap Year when it has 29.”

Well, there are differing versions of it. I think whoever wrote that version was in a hurry to get out of work and go home. It must’ve been a Friday afternoon.

Leap Year was first introduced by Julius Caesar, leading to what is known as “The Julian Calendar.” That’s just one of the perks of being the emperor.

Basically, the need for Leap Year is because the earth doesn’t revolve around the sun in exactly 365 days. We have Leap year so that the calendar doesn’t creep up and we end having Christmas in what would otherwise be August.

Eventually, most of the world switched from the Julian calendar to the Gregorian calendar, according to the website www.timeanddatecom which poses the question “Why the change from the Julian calendar to the Gregorian calendar?”

I think the answer to that lies above in paragraph six. (See: Emperor, perks.)

The actual answer is that the Julian calendar had too many leap days.

According to TAD.com, the criteria for a Leap Year is:
1. Every year that is divisible by four is a leap year;
2. of those years, if it can be divided by 100, it is NOT a leap year unless,
3. the year is divisible by 400. Then it is a leap year.
4. If you’re the person who discovered this, you need a hobby.

Okay, I made that last one up.

To make a an even more accurate calendar, an adjustment was made by dropping 11 days from the calendar in October, which must have really messed up peoples’ appointment books. One can easily imagine the confusion of a guy waking up with a hangover, thinking he had an 11 day blackout.

The 11 day adjustment didn’t occur in the U.S. until 1752, which puts George Washington’s actual birthday on February 11. That one, I didn’t make up!

Hopefully, you remembered to change your clocks this past weekend. “Spring forward, fall back” is the saying, referring to the direction of the clock change and not instructions to an Olympic gymnast.

That saying is easier to remember than “Starve a cold, feed a fever” which could possibly be “Feed a cold, starve a fever.” I’m not sure which is correct but that’s probably what they teach on day one at medical school.

Founding Father Ben Franklin first conceived of Daylight Savings Time, perhaps in order to give himself more daylight for his kite-flying.

The California Energy Commission’s website quotes the Mining Co. Guide to Geography (which has the hottest centerfolds!) as saying that some 70 countries observe DST. Yet, not all of the United States does so. Hawaii has no DST, perhaps figuring “Just how much sunshine do you need in Paradise?” Nor does most of Arizona, with the exception of the Navajo Indian Reservation, whose members apparently concluded:

“Don’t be an idiot, Paleface.”

Many people complain about losing an hour of sleep at this time of year due to Daylight Savings Time, but I’ve found a way to offset that…I sleep an extra hour on Sunday.

Posted by dmargarita at 2:32 PM

January 28, 2008

David v. Goliath

This coming Sunday, the New England Patriots will take on the New York Giants in Super Bowl XLII and enter the contest as decided favorites. It’s thus somewhat ironic that in a battle being billed as a “David vs. Goliath” affair, that the team in the position of “David” is called the “Giants.”

Most people are familiar with the story of David vs. Goliath, which is not to be confused with some court case called “David v. Goliath” or some Claymation religious TV show (Comedian Mike Donovan has a hilarious bit on that show. Check out comedianmikedonovan.com to catch his upcoming dates).

It is, of course, the Biblical story which one can find, as I did, on bible.com. Yes, the Good Book is online, alongside videos of Britney Spears and guys getting hit in the groin with a rake.

According to the book of Samuel 17:8 (if I’m reading that correctly. I only know “John 3:16” from Rainbowhead, the guy with the rainbow wig who for years was holding that sign at every major sporting event), the army of Israel stood across a valley from the Philistines, who sent out their champion warrior Goliath, to challenge the Israeli army.

Goliath’s height is listed here at “six cubits and a span” although it’s said the portrait artist tends to add a few cubits. Other accounts list Goliath as 9 feet tall. Considering that the average male of the time was about 4’ 6” tall, you can see why the Israeli’s thought of him as a giant and not just really tall. I doubt that they could test for steroids or human growth hormone back then. Today, Goliath would merely be a freakish entry in the Guinness Book of Records.

It’s said that Goliath “had a bronze helmet on his head and wore a coat of scale armor of bronze weighing five thousand shekels,” give or take a few shekels. He went forth and said to the Israeli’s “This day I defy the ranks of Israel! Give me a man and let us fight each other” (The Biblical equivelent of "Yo' mama"). Yes, Goliath was talking trash.

Saul (brother of Bernie), and the men of Israel were “terrified.”

Meanwhile, David, son of Jesse (was this happening on “Melrose Place”?) was tending his father’s flock, while Goliath came forth every morning for forty days to challenge the men of Israel. Everything in the Bible seemed to happen over the course of forty days (and thus would also be forty nights).

One day Jesse told David to “Take these ten cheeses” to the commander of the army (which included David’s brothers). If Goliath were marching about everyday for forty days, they should have sent him the cheeses and waited for the inevitable coronary, but I suppose they knew little of congestive heart failure back then.

Upon arriving at the battle, David heard Goliath’s trash-talk and said “Who is this uncircumcised Philistine that he should defy the armies of the living God?” (Hey, don’t blame me. It’s in the Bible).

Apparently, Goliath wasn’t wearing a complete suit of body armor if David could tell that he was uncircumcised.

David had no sword but just his sling-shot. Not the “Y” shaped stick with a rubber band like Bart Simpson would have, but a cloth used to hurl stones, which he had taken from a nearby river. Apparently, David ignored his mother's warnings that he could "put somebody's eye out." This proves the old adage “Give a man a stone and he will fight for one day. Show a man how to get stones from the river and he will fight for a lifetime.”

David approached Goliath and said, among other things, “This day the LORD will hand you over to me, and I'll strike you down and cut off your head,” proving that our hero wasn’t above talking some trash himself.

David reached into his bag for a stone and slung it at Goliath and hit him in the forehead, killing him instantly, at least according to the Pakistani government. It seems that the phrase “full-body armor” didn’t mean a face mask.

Lest the Philistine’s think that their warrior had merely suffered a fainting spell, David took Goliath’s sword and cut off his head (Goliath’s head, not his own, which would be a pretty stupid thing to do).

Seeing their hero dead, the Philistine’s fled, pursued by the men of Israel, who managed to do some plundering of the Philistine camp on their way back. What’s a biblical battle without some plundering? Naturally, David kept Goliath’s head as a trophy, likely putting it above his mantle as one would a deer.

I don’t know what the Damascus oddsmakers had for that contest, but anyone betting on David and the points would have cleaned up.

If the Giants do defeat the Patriots, it will be a victory well-earned. Let’s just hope they don’t cut off Tom Brady’s head.

Posted by dmargarita at 3:57 PM

January 3, 2008

Cat, Mouse 'N Eel

A Japanese scientist stands to be a very rich man because he discovered a cheap, clean source of energy when he struck…eel.

Kazuhiko Minawa figured out a process to harness the electricity of an eel to light up a Christmas Tree.

"If we could gather all electric eels from all around the world, we would be able to light up an unimaginably giant Christmas tree" Minawa told Reuters TV.

Yes, considering the energy crisis we currently face, this is where our energy resources should go. I’ve seen enough sci-fi/horror films to know that getting all of the world’s eels together could only lead to one thing---the overthrow of mankind and world eel domination.

Eel power would make for some interesting conversations around the house during a blackout.

“We lost power again. Honey, can you go downstairs and replace the burned-out eel?”

On the bright side, should we be able to use eels for our main source of power, with the easy availability of eels it’s much likely that we’ll have to worry about facing a foreign “eel embargo.” Was that too far to go for a bad pun?

As strange as that may seem, there was even more animal weirdness when several news outlets reported that South Korean scientists have cloned cats that glow in the dark when exposed to ultraviolet rays. It’s just another thing for CSI investigators to look for at a crime scene; DNA and lost kittens.

The Associated Press quotes geneticist Keitaro Kato (Not now, Kato!) whom they say has cloned fish (but not loaves) as saying that “the research could be significant if it eventually helps treat people.”

I guess I’ve missed the fundraisers to help people who suffer from “glow-in-the-dark” syndrome, so the only people I see it possibly helping are the still-glowing victims of the Chernobyl nuclear accident. Otherwise, I don’t see what medical benefit glow-in-the-dark cats could have for humans who aren’t suffering from anything other than choking on “glow-in-the-dark” fur balls.

The cats were cloned by Mr. Kong Il-keun and his clone, also Mr. Kong Il-keun. No mention was made of whether the cats were indoor cats or outdoor cats or even AC cats or DC cats.

According to the Telegraph.co.uk, animal clones might be genetically altered to produce human body parts. I’ve heard of some people being “catty” before, but that would be taking it to a new extreme. Unless someone wants to be cool and get a tail, I don’t see a cat-human body part match.

The Telegraph, which seems to nearly have cornered the press market on bizarre animal stories, also reports that the Zoological Society of London has released “previously unseen footage” of an endangered species, the long-eared jerboa; a sort of Zapruder film of a rodent, if you will. The Telegraph says the rodent looks like “a cross between a big-eared mouse and a kangaroo.”

The last time anyone saw a creature looking like that was on the drawing board of a Warner Bros. Looney Toons animator. Lest you think that’s just my opinion, the Telegraph quotes the Society’s head of field conservation, Dr. Jonathan Baillie, as describing the jerboa as “a bit like the Mickey Mouse of the desert, cute and comic in equal measure” before adding that the jerboa also wears white gloves and has only three fingers.

That description begs the question, do we really want to save this species? I understand that once a species is gone we can’t get it back but really, why would we want to? If one day cockroaches and rats are on the verge of extinction, should we try to save them? Is the world a less wonderful place because the Dodo bird became extinct? Before you answer “yes” to that question, remember that the Dodo’s greatest contribution to mankind was to enter the English language as an adjective for someone who is none-too-bright.

The rarely seen creature lives in Mongolia and China and the only captive long-eared jerboa died earlier this year in a German zoo, presumably under intense questioning. It seems that he should have taken his interrogators more seriously when they told him “Vee have vays of making you squeak.”

Perhaps scientists could’ve found the jerboa sooner if they’d used an eel to light up a cat to look in the dark for the long-eared jerboa.

Posted by dmargarita at 4:16 PM

June 9, 2007

Catch Comics, Catch Bar

This photo is of several Boston comics who had worked at the legendary comedy club Catch A Rising Star in Harvard Square several years ago. They are behind a section of the bar that was used at Catch and it's earlier incarnation, Jonathan Swift's. When the bar was torn out by a later tennant, it was rescued by Britt Boughner who had tended bar at Catch and who also took this photo after one-man shows by Jim DeCroteau and Frank Santorelli at Jimmy Tingle's Off Broadway Theater in Davis Square, Somerville.The comics are standing L-R: Tom Clark, Bob Lazarus, Frank Santorelli, Jimmy Tingle and Bill Braudis. Seated: Dan Margarita and Jim DeCroteau.

Posted by Dan at 2:00 PM

January 29, 2007

Spell Check Blooz

Sometimes I don’t spell very weel…well, sorry. Mind you, I used to spell wicked good, although my grammar wasn’t always the best.

Back when I attended the Robin Hood Elementary School, I would routinely do well in spelling contests but could never quite seem to win (sort of the Indianapolis Colts of spelling…no, there’s no bitterness on my part). I still get a slight pain when I recall being stumped by the word “bureau” in the finals, before deciding to hang ‘em up (although I’m not exactly sure what a speller hangs up).

Modern technology has rendered spelling ability somewhat moot since most writers now use computers which contain some form of “spell check” function. Once upon a time, that was called a “dictionary.” The problem with “spell check” is that it can make a writer lazy, relying on the function to correct your mistakes. That’s fine if you misspell a word that the computer doesn’t recognize, but if you misspell it as another, actual word, the computer doesn’t realize that you didn’t want that word. Could you follow that? Unfortunately, there is no “logic check” function on my laptop.

For example, those of you that read of my trip to Chicago with my father (“A Bear and His Cub Return to the Windy City”) may recall that a dinner we attended was hosted by Brian McCaskey of the Chicago Bears. Those of you that haven’t read it, have no idea what I’m talking about. When I returned from the trip, I wrote a thank-you letter on my computer to Brian and then printed and mailed it. After dropping it in a mailbox, I had a panic attack and had to check my computer to make sure I didn’t begin the letter with “Dear Brain.” As “brain” is an actual word, my spell-check would not have highlighted it.

This is fair warning to any students reading this to make sure that they don’t do a book report on “The Dairy of Anne Frank.”

Of course, we’re so lucky to have computers to write with today. When I try to imagine what Charles Dickens had to go through to write a novel, it’s chilling. Ballpoint pens didn’t even exist then, so Dickens and his contemporaries had to dip their pen into an ink well repeatedly every few minutes and scrawl by hand. That sounds like a task that would be assigned to Oliver Twist as a punishment.

If Dickens wanted to rewrite something, he had to literally rewrite it. There was no highlighting, cutting and pasting, just actual cutting and pasting.

Part of my problem is that my brain works faster than my fingers can type on my computer keyboard. I never took a typing class, so my method is strictly the “hunt & peck” (sounds like a law firm) method. I use two fingers, but after several years, I can go pretty quickly. Yet it’s not fast enough to keep up with what I’m thinking which often leads me to skip several words in a sentence as I get anxious to type the end of a thought, such as:

“That’s when I decided that I would like I did before.”

Distractions can also be a problem so that I don’t pay as much attention as I should to what I’m writing like if I’m watching TV while I’m writing and wind up including the dialogue from the tube:

“I joined an online dating service in order to meet someone as a blast kills 50 in Iraq.”

It’s not that I don’t proof-read, because I do. I just don’t do it very well. I think many writers might agree with me that one can reread something thirty times and not notice the errors until you see it in print or find something they missed over and over again. This is why I pay someone to do my taxes.

That’s one area where I can’t afford to overlook anything.

Posted by dmargarita at 11:18 AM

January 15, 2007

Procrastination Station

One of these days I’m going to stop procrastinating. This has long been a goal but naturally, I keep putting it off.

I’m certainly not alone, however. According to a report by Seth Boronstein of the Associated Press, a study by a University of Calgary professor named Piers Steel (also a part-time private eye?) shows that Americans procrastinate more than ever and it’s making us “poorer, fatter and unhappier.”

I assume that Canadians don’t procrastinate because it’s usually too damn cold up there. One is not inclined to put off getting the firewood, shoveling snow to give the oil truck access or hunting and cooking that evening’s dinner.

I also would’ve thought that Dorito’s and Ring Ding’s made people fatter. Being fat isn’t a guarantee of unhappiness. Look at any picture or statue of Buddha. Has he ever been seen not smiling?

Steel says that in 1978 only 5 percent of Americans thought of themselves as procrastinators but now it’s up to 26 percent. That figure may be off if the people in 1978 were late turning in the questionnaire.

Steel claims that modern technology is responsible for much of the problem, as it is easier to be distracted from the task at hand than ever before. I can attest that this is true since I have not only checked my email several times, but I have made several visits to the IMDb (Internet Movie Database) website where I have discovered that the 1978 classic film “Animal House” has a mockcumentary “Where Are They Now?: A Delta Alumni Update” on the new DVD. Maybe that’s where the 5 percent of procrastinators were in 1978, watching “Animal House.” Fans of the “Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon” game, where you connect various actors to Kevin Bacon in six links or less, know that Bacon’s first film role was a small part in “Animal House” as an ROTC cadet trying to maintain order at the end of the movie. Yet, I digress…and that’s part of my problem.

According to the article (on procrastination, not Kevin Bacon), men are worse than women with about 54 out of 100 men being identified as chronic procrastinators and the young are more inclined to be so then the old. That makes sense of course because young people have more time in front of them to put things off until whereas the old know that time has become a precious commodity and is not to be wasted. Why put things off until tomorrow when tomorrow might not arrive for you?

Steel claims that he has found it harder to wean procrastinators from delaying than weaning alcoholics from booze. If procrastination is such a big problem, why hasn’t anyone developed P.A. (Procrastinators Anonymous)?

“Hi, I’m Bob. I’m a procrastinator.”
“Hi Bob.”
“Because of procrastinating, I lost my wife, my house and my job. Well, I never actually had those things. Because I was too lazy to get a job, I never made enough money to buy a house and because I was poor, women didn’t want to date me. That’s how I lost those things.”

Procrastination is not a new phenomenon, but just one that has increased exponentially.
“It's never been harder to be self-disciplined in all of history than it is now" says Steel.

As an example, the article points to an 1852 book for children titled “Thoughtless Little Fanny: The Unhappy Results of Procrastination” which undoubtedly kept many children of the day from having a thoughtless fanny.

Since there wasn’t always technology, there could not always have been procrastinators. It’s unlikely that the caveman put off fighting an attacking saber-tooth tiger so he could paint stick figures on his cave wall.

One can’t argue with Steel’s expertise, though. It was intended to be a five-year study, but took him ten years to finish.

Oh, and for those you who are interested, Kevin Bacon’s family dog is a mutt named Paulie.

Posted by dmargarita at 12:51 PM

December 31, 2006

2006: The Year in Review

“Another year over and a new one just begun” as John Lennon once noted. With that in mind it’s time for my annual Year in Review, which I write every year, hence the term “annual” (like that joke).

With a little help from the folks at infoplease.com, here’s a look back at the highlights and lowlights of 2006, with my own take added.

Bush Addresses the Nation (Jan. 31): In his fifth State of the Union speech, the president denounces Iran, calling it a country “held hostage by a small clerical elite that is isolating and repressing its people.” The president of Iran, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad responds with “I know you are, but what am I?”

Spacecraft Heads to Pluto (Jan. 19): A space craft, New Horizons, will travel three billion miles over nine years to study Pluto's atmosphere and surface. That’s a long way and a long time for a place that will later be demoted from the category of planet.

Protests Over Cartoons Turn Violent (Feb. 4): Throughout the Muslim world, angry demonstrators smash windows, set fires, and burn flags, protesting cartoons that depict Muhammad in a negative light. In keeping with the cartoon theme, protesters use Acme anvils, rocket powered roller skates and super-powered springs. Victims report large lumps on their head, bandages appearing on their eyes when knocked out and seeing stars circling their heads when regaining consciousness.

Vice President Shoots Friend During Hunting Expedition (Feb. 11): Dick Cheney accidentally shoots Texas lawyer Harry Whittington while hunting for quail. Whittington is hit in the face, neck, and torso. Upon hearing that Cheney was hunting for quail, former Vice President Dan Quayle goes into hiding.

Hussein Testifies for the First Time (March 15): In his 40-minute speech, former Iraqi leader Saddam Hussein urges Iraqis to stop fighting each other and instead focus their attacks on the United States. Saddam also claims that evidence against him was planted by former L.A. Detective Mark Fuhrman.

European Investigation Reports Secret CIA Flights (April 26): Inquiry ordered by the European Parliament finds that since 2001, the CIA has conducted about 1,000 undeclared flights over Europe, transporting terrorism suspects to countries that allow torture. Despite being tortured, suspects become eligible for frequent flyer miles.

Iranian President Lists Grievances in a Letter to Bush (May 9): In his 18-page letter, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad says that the war in Iraq and the abuse of prisoners by U.S. soldiers contradict Bush's Christian values. Ahmadinejad closes by telling Bush to forward the letter to ten more people to achieve good luck.

Pentagon Releases Study on Interrogations (June 16): Report finds that techniques used by some Special Operations troops on Iraqi detainees in early 2004 were unauthorized and abusive, but not deliberately so. This is believed to be the origin such phrases as “Give him the unintentional rack” and “Accidentally off with his head!”

Reports Indicate That CIA Closed Bin Laden Unit (July 3): National Public Radio reports that in late 2005 the CIA shut down “Alec Station,” which was charged with tracking down al-Qaeda leader Osama bin Laden. Congressional Republicans move to cut federal funding to shut down National Public Radio.

Former Enron Chief Dies (July 5): Kenneth Lay, founder and former chairman and chief executive of the energy-trading company, dies of coronary artery disease at age 64. That Lay ran out of gas surprises many, who thought that he would just keep on going and going and going…

Judge Rules Against Wiretapping (Aug. 17): Federal judge Anna Diggs Taylor finds that the National Security Agency's program of secretly wiretapping Americans' communications overseas without a warrant violates the Constitution. However, the court allows the NSA to listen through a drinking glass placed against the wall.

FDA Approves Morning-After Pill (Aug. 24): The Food and Drug Administration allows the over-the-counter sale of contraceptive pill to women over the age of 18. The first person to receive it is Rebecca Wilshausen of 563 Riverdale Rd., Muncie, Indiana, who can be reached at (529)555-1376.

Pluto Is Demoted (Aug. 24): The International Astronomical Union votes to redefine the solar system, and Pluto loses its status as a planet. This decision is considered by many to be Goofy. (Okay, a stupid joke but I couldn’t resist)

Bush Administration Paid Journalists for Reports Critical of Castro (Sept. 8): White House's Office of Cuba Broadcasting paid ten Cuban-American reporters to deliver anti-Castro commentary on Radio and TV Martí. The ten reporters are later hired by Fox News.

Pope's Remarks Outrage Muslims Worldwide (Sept. 12): At a speech at Germany's Regensburg University, Pope Benedict XVI quotes a 14th-century text that describes Islam as “evil and inhuman.” In an effort to disprove this stereotype, Muslims vandalize Catholic churches in the West Bank and Iraq.

Congressman Resigns Amid Email Scandal (Sept. 29): Florida Republican Mark Foley steps down from the House of Representatives after reports emerged that he had sent sexually explicit messages to teenage male Congressional pages. Recently discovered documents indicate that while in Congress, Abraham Lincoln sent sexually explicit messages to teenage male Congressional pages by telegraph.

Google Agrees to Buy YouTube (Oct. 9): The online search giant will pay $1.65 billion in stock for YouTube, combining two of the silliest named media companies in the world.

U.S. Charges an American with Treason (Oct. 11): For the first time in more than 50 years, the Justice Department charges Adam Yahiye Gadahn of treason, alleging he gave “aid and comfort” to al-Qaeda. Fifty years ago, Gadahn gave aid and comfort to Detroit Tiger’s slugger Al Kaline.

Democrats Take Over Congress in Midterm Elections (Nov. 7): Democrats pick up 27 seats in the House of Representatives, giving them a 230 seats to Republicans' 205. In the Senate, Democrats pick up six seats, enough for a 51–49 majority. Democrats also pick up tables and lamps.

Former Russian Spy Dies of Poisoning (Nov. 23): Alexander Litvinenko dies a few days after being poisoned by what turns out to be the element polonium 210. Before his death, Litvinenko claims that Russian President Vladimir Putin is behind his poisoning. Putin vigorously denies it, noting that all Russian poisoning deaths are cause by einsteinium.

NASA Announces Plan for Base on Moon (Dec. 4): Construction of the base is scheduled to begin after 2020, when astronauts will return to the Moon. Television network NBC argues that construction should begin after “Dateline.”

Circumcision Lowers Risk of Getting AIDS (Dec. 13): National Institutes of Health announces that the results of a study in Kenya and Uganda showed that male circumcision can reduce the risk of contracting AIDS through heterosexual sex by about half. Results also show that male castration reduces the risk of contracting AIDS through heterosexual sex by 100 percent.

Singer James Brown, “The Godfather of Soul” dies (Dec. 25): The singer is rushed to the hospital after announcing “I don’t feel too good.”

Former President Gerald Ford Dies (Dec, 27) : The 38th president’s body is brought to Washington, D.C. on Dec. 30 where it lies in state at the Capitol Building while receiving a 21-gun salute. Later that night, 21 people are mysteriously found dead of gunshot wounds in Washington, D.C. Dick Cheney is held for questioning.

There you have it. The book has closed on 2006. Let’s hope that 2007 is a healthy and happy one for all.

Posted by dmargarita at 11:29 AM

December 19, 2006

A Claus for Concern

Chances are that at some point this week you’ll come across the Rev. Clement Moore’s classic poem “The the Night Before Christmas” somewhere on TV or in print. We all have the image of Santa Claus shushing the reader, but what few people realize is that the poem only refers to St. Nicholas and never once mentions him as Santa Clause. So who was St. Nick? What were his hopes, his dreams? Who were his loves? I have no idea.

I did manage to find out a bit about the evolution (or intelligent design) of Santa Claus, from the real St. Nicholas to the calorically challenged guy in red we know today.

According to “The Christmas Archives.com” St. Nicholas was born around 270-280 AD. Ordained a bishop as a young man, he “loved children and often went out at night disguised in a hooded cloak” which today probably would lead to him being caught by a hidden camera on NBC’s Dateline.

343 AD---St. Nicholas dies on December 6th. His Christmas shopping remains unfinished.

1150 AD---Guace, a Norman French scribe to the royal household, wrote the life of Nicholas as Metric Poems used for sermons. An example:

There once was a man named St. Nicholas
Who was always around trying to tickle us
Bad motives methinks
Always buying us drinks
Like a herring he kept trying to pickle us

1200 AD---Hilarious (I’m not making that up) wrote the first play about Nicholas. Given the author’s name, it was likely a comedy.

1492 (I think we can stop with the “AD”)---Christopher Columbus arrives in Haiti and names the port St. Nicholas. He also names the natives “Indians.” He doesn’t think to name the continent “Columbia” thus losing out on royalties for years.

1626---A fleet of ships leaves Holland for the New World led by The Goodwife, which features a figurehead of St. Nicholas, the patron saint of sailors. He was also the patron saint of “children, bankers, pawn-brokers, scholars, orphans, laborers, travelers, merchants, judges, paupers, marriageable maidens, students, children, sailors, victims of judicial mistakes, captives, perfumers, even thieves and murderers! He is known as the friend and protector of all in trouble or need.” Not to be confused with St. Bernard, the patron saint of big dogs that carry barrels of rum under their collar.

1651---The State of Massachusetts, run by Puritans, bans all observation of Christmas. They also ban colored clothing, shoestring hats and fun. Oddly enough, gay marriage is permitted.

1809---American writer Washington Irving describes St. Nicholas in his “History of New York” and a poem “The Children’s Friend” which includes the first references to sleigh and reindeer. This also is the first reference to Lyme Disease.

1821---Rev. Clement Moore writes his famous poem, originally titled “A Visit From St. Nick” it becomes better known as “The Night Before Christmas.” Moore initially declines to put his name to it, feeling it a bit undignified for a man of the cloth. Moore is also known for wearing very dignified cloth. He writes the poem for his children but a friend of his has it published. Moore’s previously best-known work was titled “A Compendious Lexicon of the Hebrew Language” which later became a hit for Charles Shultz who penned “It’s a Compendious Lexicon of the Hebrew Language, Charlie Brown.”

1864-1886---Famed cartoonist Thomas Nast draws Santa Claus in a series of cartoons, giving him the beginnings of the appearance as we now view him. Santa Claus that is, not Thomas Nast.

1931---Coca Cola began using with artist Haddon Sundbloom painting Santa in his own image. Sundbloom also used his own likeness in a dietary “before” ad.

As we approach the holidays, I wish all of you a Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah and a Happy or Merry Kwanzaa (whichever is appropriate), and to all a good night.

Posted by dmargarita at 2:27 PM

December 4, 2006

Fame Becomes…Eew

I know it’s a cliché, but records were meant to be broken…no matter how needless, pointless or ridiculous they may be. Come to think of it, I’d like to see some clichés broken.

You may have seen two recent stories about two individuals who have broken records. The first was by Steve Milton, who built a 4,594 pound ball made out of rubber bands, or “elastics” as we might call them and not a group of musicians made of rubber. Milton, of Eugene, Or., had four bodybuilders roll the 5 ½’ tall, 19’ foot wide ball onto a giant scale in downtown Chicago. What the news stories fail to report is how Mr. Milton got the ball from Oregon to Chicago in the first place. Perhaps the bodybuilders rolled it all the way, which I presume would be some sort of record in its own right.

Milton’s feat surpassed that of John Bain of Wilmington, Delaware who built a rubber band ball that weighs 3,120 lbs., yet whose website “RecordBall.com” is still in existence. The website brags that the ball was “single-handedly created by John Bain” and then later states “Special thanks to Jeff Arroyo for helping add the most recent layers on the ball.” I think a congressional investigation is in order.

The other record recently broken was that of Jon Sanford who has what is the world’s longest arm hair. The “mutant hair” as he calls it, is just under four inches long and he is awaiting approval from the people at Guinness World Records to formally claim the title. I guess most of us aren’t capable of curing cancer or winning a military victory, so we have to take our glory where we can find it.

Americans are obsessed with fame, as are the British I assume since they are the home of The Guinness Book of Records, which is the base for the ultimate weirdness in pursuit of fame. Some of the records listed on their website include “Most Cockroaches Eaten” by Ken Edwards of London, England, who downed 36 of the creatures. Mr. Edwards is listed as a “retired rat-catcher” (Were there no more rats left to catch?) who first made a splash on TV by stuffing 47 rats downs his pants. Personally, I find that after four or five rats in my pants, it’s gets a little uncomfortable.

Then there’s a Michel Lotito of France who is credited as having the “Strangest Diet” which I would’ve assumed would be the cockroach-eating guy. According to Guinness, Mr. Lotito has been eating metal and glass since 1959 and regularly consumes 2 pounds of metal per day. No need for him to add an iron supplement to his diet.

Some people hold records that they probably wish they didn’t own. For instance, the 2004 Guinness Book of Records says that in 1991 a California woman had a 303 pound tumor on her left ovary removed intact. It was three feet in diameter which one would assume might’ve been noticeable long before it got to that point. Remarkably, the woman made a full recovery.

There are two types or record holders: people who do unusual things and those who are born freaks (for lack of a better term). The latter would be the arm hair guy or the kid in India with 12 fingers and 13 toes. He didn’t have a choice in the matter. The former would be Cockroach Guy, Metal Eating Guy and Ashrita Furman, who has made his life’s pursuit the breaking of Guinness records. According to his website www.ashritafurman.com, he has set 126 records and currently holds 46 of them.

Some of his records include: Longest Continuous Somersaulting Distance--12 mi., 390 yds.
Pogo Stick Jumping Distance---23.11 mi.
Longest Distance Balancing Milk Bottle on Head---80.95 mi.
And I think we can also add: Most Free Time on Hands To Pursue Idiotic Goals.

In case you were wondering, I have no desire to take Cockroach Guy’s title…just for the record.

Posted by dmargarita at 3:12 PM

November 20, 2006

Talking Turkey

As most of you have probably heard by now, this Thursday Americans will celebrate Thanksgiving, a day on which we give thanks, hence the name. The U.S. has yet to institute “You’re Welcome Day”.

The story begins in England when a group of devoutly religious and somewhat anal people separated themselves from The Church of England because they felt the church still carried too many traditions of The Roman Catholic Church including ecclesiastical courts, clerical vestments, altars and the practice of kneeling (I’m not making that up).

They decided that rather than be persecuted in England, they would be better off living in Holland but after a few years of their children being exposed to Amsterdam’s notorious “red lantern” district, they decided to try The New World where they could become the oppressors.

So the leaders told their people to buckle up their hats and jump on board The Mayflower and made their way to Plymouth, Mass. Life was brutal and half of the population died, or “perished” as they would put it, or “croaked’ as we might say today.

Upon landing, the Pilgrims proceeded to do what travelers have done throughout history---name the places you arrive at as the same places you tried so desperately to leave. Thus they settled in “Plimoth” or Plymouth as we now know it.

One day a native or “Indian” as they would be called, strolled into their camp, astonishing the settlers by saying in clear English “Whaasss uuuuppp?”

Samoset and later Squanto, befriended the colonists, teaching them how plant corn and where to fish. The Pilgrims responded by saying “Thanks” and “Don’t let the teepee flap hit you on the way out.”

Squanto proved to be a Godsend for the Pilgrims who may not have survived without his assistance. His ability to speak English, one of the few benefits of his repeatedly being kidnapped and hijacked to Europe, enabled him to broker peace between the Pilgrims and the local natives. Little did he realize that it would’ve been in his peoples’ best interest to let the Pilgrims die out.

They nearly did as out of the 102 members, ten of the seventeen male heads of families died and of the seventeen wives, only three survived making them very popular with the remaining seven surviving men.

The Pilgrims had a bountiful harvest as a result and Governor William Bradford proclaimed a day of thanksgiving and invited Squanto, Chief Massasoit and 90 braves to join in the celebration. The feast lasted three days (the hangover, longer) and featured games, presumably involving the Detroit Lions, as well as archery and musket demonstrations. Those were done at targets at the time and only later, at each other.

The Pilgrims decided that the occasion merited a special meal so they went “fowling” which would be the hunting of birds and not the yelling of obscene language or striking an opposing player to stop the game clock. Not to be outdone, the Indians sent a hunting party into the woods where they killed five deer and strapped them to the hood of…one of the other Indians.

What few people realize is that Thanksgiving did not become the official holiday we know it as now until 1939 when President Franklin D. Roosevelt set the date as the fourth Thursday in November, a change from Abraham Lincoln’s designation of the last Thursday in November. What the two presidents had in common though was that fact that the country was at both times in great peril during their administrations. Lincoln was seeing the country torn apart by The Civil War while Roosevelt was steeped in The Great Depression and on the verge of World War II. Clearly, they both had much to be thankful for. They were able to persevere and Lincoln defeated the Confederacy while Roosevelt defeated the Nazis.

Now let’s see Stoneham beat Reading.

Posted by dmargarita at 4:17 PM

September 29, 2006

Just Thinking...

Am I the only one annoyed by those "Head On" commercials?
The one where a woman is shown rubbing a tube across her forehead and then a voice over says:
"Head On. Apply directly to the forehead.
Head On. Apply directly to the forehead.
Head On. Apply directly to the forehead."

Let's hope the advertising company that came up with the ad doesn't get the account for Trojan Condoms.

"Trojan Condoms. Apply directly to the penis.
Trojan Condoms. Apply directly to the penis.
Trojan Condoms. Apply directly to the penis."

*****************************************************
A fire at the Boston Tropical Fish pet store in Cambridge killed several animals. Evidence suggests arson. A PETA-style slogan was written on a nearby wall and a tortoise was spotted fleeing the seen immediately after the fire began. He was spotted still fleeing the scene an hour later.

*****************************************************
Dallas Cowboy wide receiver Terrell Owens denied that he recently tried to take his own life. Owens claimed that he mixed painkillers with supplements which made his groggy. He returned to practice with the Cowboys the next day, but as a precaution, Coach Bill Parcells removed Owens from the "suicide squad".

Posted by dmargarita at 6:31 PM

August 27, 2006

Thick and Thin

It’s been pretty well established by medical experts that Americans are getting increasingly overweight and thus risk any number of health problems as a result. They didn’t tell us one other reason to lose weight---so we don’t become dinner for the world’s vast number of hungry people.

The dangers that go along with being obese include strokes, diabetes and heart disease. A recent conference of health experts in Australia heard that the world’s hungriest people are now outnumbered by the number of obese of the world, according to several news reports. This message was delivered by University of North Carolina Professor Barry Popkin (suspiciously close to “popcorn”).

The fact that Americans are obese came as no surprise but the revelation that Australians share with us the dubious distinction of also having among the world’s highest rate of obesity was unexpected to these ears. Although, that’s probably a good thing if you think about it. Due to the two countries location on the earth, they perfectly offset each other so that one overweight country doesn’t put the Earth on a lopsided orbit and thus spinning out into the solar system.

The conference pointed to “sedentary lifestyles combined with major shifts in eating habits have contributed towards an obesity epidemic that means some 1.4 billion people worldwide are overweight, while 800 million are under-fed.”

China was listed as a major example of how lifestyle changes had led to obesity. The country’s transition from a cereal-based diet to one of animal products and vegetable oils, along with more auto transportation and TV watching, have been contributing factors. For years the West has been trying to get China to become more like our capitalist society, and it seems they’ve succeeded. One would’ve thought that the Chinese’ diet would have consisted largely of “Chinese food.”

Japan ranks among the lowest rate of obesity which Prof. Popkin attributes to a combination of diet and walking, as the Japanese rely heavily (no pun intended) on public transportation. On average, a Japanese man walks around four miles a day compared to an American man who walks about 1,000-3,000 steps per day, or about one mile. Worse, he often walks that mile for a Camel cigarette (a reference that only 40 + readers might get). Whereas, the Japanese seem to put most of their weight into a few select people. See: Sumo Wrestlers.

All this didn’t occur to Tennessee Tuxedo and Chumley when they went to visit Phineas J. Whoopee, “The World’s Smartest Man” (another over-40 reference) who explained in one particular cartoon episode that man invented gadgets with the idea of saving time to provide himself with more leisure time. What Mr. Whoopee didn’t realize was that the activities that were eliminated also served to keep humans in shape in their everyday lives. Now, many people spend that leisure time paying money to go to a gym to get in the shape that we got out of as a result of eliminating those physical chores of yesteryear.

With the obese now outnumbering (and of course, outweighing) the under-fed, there surely must be a way to balance the two problems. If those that are eating more than they should, no matter how unhealthy, could send a little of that food to those that need it, both sides could become a little healthier.

If not, the hungry may just get desperate enough to come and find the obese who could either give the hungry some food, or have themselves become a little something to nosh on.

Posted by dmargarita at 1:32 PM

August 14, 2006

Another Day at the Zoo

Hello Stoneham, it’s good to be back. One of the first columns I wrote for “Margaritaville” some years ago was about a trip I took to the Stone Zoo, so it seemed appropriate to return there and see what, if any, changes had occurred (to the zoo, not the trip).

My last venture to the zoo proved to be very disappointing. The few animals there seemed to be stuck in small, concrete areas, as though living in the inner city was a lion’s natural habitat. I had to try to convince my young niece that pigeons were an exotic bird and were a featured exhibit. A sign on one of the cages meant to keep people from feeding the animals which read “We Bite” seemed to be as much of a motto as it was a warning.

On a beautiful Sunday afternoon I arrived to find a full parking lot, unlike my last visit when it seemed to mainly serve as a custody exchange point for divorced couples. Paying what is no longer a “suggested donation” but a $7.50 admission, I entered to find a highly vegetated landscape with many more exhibits than I expected. Clearly, while still limited by space restrictions, a lot of time and money has been put into the place.

Sure, some things were inevitably bound to change. Major, the polar bear and longtime main attraction, passed away some years ago. In his pit was a black-handed monkey, limited to a small, enclosed cage. According to a information sign, he can use his tail as “a fifth hand.” What surprised me was the idea that he even had four hands. I would’ve guess two hands, two feet and a tail.

Another type of monkey, a Emperor Tamarin, typically gives birth to twins. Let’s hope they have better sense than to dress them alike as some humans are fond of doing.

Llamas share a pen with some tiny horses. This is where the giraffes used to be located and I swear I remember some elephants being there when I was a child, but a woman working in the former giraffe house said I was mistaken. It sticks in my mind because I remember wearing my brand new mittens on a school field trip and trying to feed peanuts to the elephant. He took the peanuts from my hand and left me with a mitten moistened with elephant snot. I’m sure he remembers. The building now houses small exhibits including exotic cockroaches that you can touch, if you so desire. I passed on that one.

What surprised me was how small a roadrunner is. The sign says that their average life expectancy is eight years, presumably that’s if it’s not caught by Wile E. Coyote. I had to keep looking up to make sure I wasn’t going to be hit by an Acme anvil.

Perhaps the saddest sight was that of two reindeer. While their area was fairly restricted, they limited their movements to pacing back-and-forth in one spot with the same one leading and the other following.
Maybe they were contemplating their lengthy journey on December 25th ?

The most intimidating creature in my opinion was a pack of Mexican Gray Wolves, which is a bit of a misnomer as the info card says that “Wolves come in different colors, just like people.”

Wolves also travel in packs, feed on smaller mammals and will rip your throats out, given the chance…just like people.

Exotic birds such as the Great Hornbill, are on display. Apparently, “after mating, the pair seals the opening of the tree hole with mud, leaving a slit just large enough to feed the female and the young and eject droppings.” No mention is made if the male then watches a ballgame on TV.

One of the fundraisers listed on the guide pamphlet is to “Zoodopt an animal” meaning that you can “adopt your favorite animal for $35.” I don’t know about you, but I find house cleaning enough of a chore. If I want a 500 pound roommate who throws his dung against the wall, I’ll join a college fraternity.

Congratulations to the folks that changed the zoo from being a sorry concrete jungle to a place that albeit cramped, is more akin to an animal’s natural habitat. My niece is now too old to believe that pigeons are an endangered species.

Posted by dmargarita at 12:54 PM

June 7, 2006

Little Russ and Me

I like to listen to the radio in the morning. Sometimes it’s music; sometimes it’s political talk and sometimes when I want to get myself foaming at the mouth without actually contracting rabies, I listen to sports-radio.

On a recent Monday morning I happened to tune into Mike Barnacle’s talk show on WTTK, 96.9 FM. His guest was “Meet the Press” moderator Tim Russert, who is currently on a book tour promoting his latest “Wisdom of Our Fathers.” This is a follow-up to his successful book “Big Russ and Me” about his relationship with his father.

I’m a fan of Mr. Russert’s work, particularly in an age when it seems that most “news” anchors want to inject their opinions into whatever story they’re reporting. While Russert had worked for some Democrats before going into the news business, he makes a point of not giving his personal opinions, which I greatly admire. In this respect, he is the “anti-O’Reilly.”

It was announced that Mr. Russert would be signing copies of his new book at The Coop in Harvard Square, so it seemed like a good opportunity to buy a copy and get it signed for dad.

I have to admit, I had an ulterior motive. I had hoped to give my business card to Mr. Russert, for reasons that I’m not even sure of. The term is called “networking” which to me seems like a euphemism for “schmoozing.”

I know people who are masters at this. They hob-nob with someone famous or powerful and before you know it, have connections in all walks of life. Yet, I’m not comfortable promoting myself or schmoozing with people. When I try, I feel like I’m coming off more like the obnoxious salesman at the party that you can’t get away from.

Oh, I didn’t expect that Mr. Russert would view my website www.danmargaita.com (okay, there’s a plug) and book me to discuss the Iraq war on next week’s Meet the Press. I don’t know what I expected, though.

Yet, I did want to tell him about my own dad.

My father, Bob Margarita, is a local legend here in Stoneham, Massachusetts. He began teaching at Stoneham High in the early 1960’s and retired in 1987. After that, he became the school’s Athletic Equipment Man until just a few years ago when he became physically unable to handle it. Throw in his ten years as a football coach there, and the ingredients add up to local legend.

Yet it wasn’t simply longevity that made him beloved, but his gentle nature and sense of fairness that endeared him to generations of students. He was somebody that even the tough kids and non-students liked and respected because he didn’t talk down to them or disrespect them.

So off to Harvard Square I went. The book signing began at noon and I didn’t want to waste a lot of time taking the subway and the changing of lines that it would entail, so I drove in and parked at a garage around the corner, knowing full well that wouldn’t be cheap.

There was a bit of a line at The Coop, but not what I expected. I guess a lot of people do work on weekdays. First, I had to see if they had a large print edition of the book, as my father suffers from Macular Degeneration and can’t read normal type. If they didn’t I figured that I’d have to have Mr. Russert sign a regular copy and ask him if I sent a large print copy to him if he could sign it and return it. I’d pay the postage, of course.

I was in luck. A large-print version was available so I got in line, which had shrunk to just one person in front of me. This barely gave me time to plan what I would say. With a business card tucked in my pocket, I approached Mr. Russert, who is as affable in person as he appears in interviews.

“Who’s this for?” asked Russert.

“Make it out to ‘Coach’” was my reply.

“Coach!” he half asked and half repeated.

On Barnacle’s program, the subject of Robert F. Kennedy had come up just before the interview concluded, so my first thought was to mention that my father coached Bobby Kennedy when my dad coached at Harvard.

“No, kiddin’?”

I also added that my father was a local legend in town and was quite a guy. Then there was the awkward pause as I pondered my next move. Should I pull out my card? Should I tell him more about dad? Should I mention that when I go to local events, like the recent SHS Hall of Fame induction (he’s a charter member) that hanging out there with him is like hanging with U2's Bono? That one of his former players from the early '60's flew up from Florida to be there with him? He’s heard so many stories from so many about their fathers that I feared he might not to listen to one more. Though there was just one person in line behind me, I didn’t want to hold up the proceedings. Nor did I want to be embarrassed as some employee said “”I’m sorry, sir. You’ll have to keep moving.”

So, I just shook his hand and said “I’ve enjoyed your work.”

It may be sucking-up, but it is true.

He thanked me and said “Say ‘hello’ to ‘Coach’ for me!”

I left and went to lunch at one of my favorite places, The Border Café, just around the corner. I don’t get there or to the location on Rte. 1 as much as I’d like due to my high cholesterol. It seems that you can’t get anything on their menu that doesn’t have cheese with the possible exception of diet soda, which you could probably get cheese on if you asked.

Having lunch there allowed me to read the introduction of his book and I realize that Mr. Russert probably wouldn’t mind hearing about one more father since he states that he got 60,000 emails and letters after his last book and read every one of them.

I would’ve told him about dad taking me down to play basketball at night at the high school gym while pretending he had work to do there. If he did that today, I’m sure that somebody would be complaining about him using taxpayer’s money when turning on the gym lights for my evening basketball play time.

Then there was the time as a youngster that I was in the hospital at Christmastime and wanted a number 14 football jersey. Thanks largely to my mom, a New York Giants fan, I was fascinated by their quarterback Y.A. Tittle. I’m not sure if it was because he was named “Y.A” or “Tittle” or because he was bald, all of which I found intriguing as a small child. On Christmas Day I woke up and over the backs of two chairs were two number 14 jerseys, one blue and one white. That went along well with the N.Y. Giants football helmet that my father had spray painted and put the famous “NY” decals on the side for me.

Having played running back and defensive back for the Chicago Bears after being a Medford High and Brown University football star, my dad knew the game inside and out. He never pushed me on it though, but did show me how to punt and was very proud when I booted a 60-yarder in a game that he came to. He was also impressed when as a freshman quarterback, I turned a busted play into a 30-35 yard gain, breaking tackles and dodging defensive players left and right. It mattered little to him that most of the yardage I gained was laterally and didn’t show up as more than a two-or-three yard gain in the scorebook. I showed a penchant (however briefly) for dodging tackles, and while I tried to play it cool when I got home (though secretly very proud of myself), he beamed and told me that I looked like the old man running the football.

In our side yard we had a basketball hoop that dad put up himself. This was long before you could go to Sears or MVP Sports and get a ready-made, adjustable model that is quite common today. Two metal poles stuck in concrete buried in the ground led up to a simple piece of wood that was regulation size with an official rim. A floodlight on the side of the house made it usable at night and our house often became a place for neighborhood kids to come and have somewhere to play.

There may not be enough to go on a book tour with this piece, but if I put it all down on paper, I'm sure I could write a book. With the stories that my siblings and I could tell, as well as those from former students, players and friends of my dad, it could probably fill a library.

So as Father’s Day approaches I want to wish all dads a Happy Father’s Day, but especially Big Russ, Little Russ and Dad.

Posted by dmargarita at 6:21 PM

May 20, 2006

Monkey Man

I like chimps. I think most guys do. They’re funny. According to a recent report in The Boston Globe, a Cambridge-based scientist claims that early man liked some chimps way too much.

The newspaper article states that using “newly available genetic data” scientists concluded that “human ancestors evolved apart from the chimpanzees for hundreds of thousands of years, and then started breeding with them again before a final break.”

Talk about your swingers.

I guess I’m jumping to a conclusion here that it was male humans that decided to breed with female chimpanzees, because I’m assuming it was probably a case of “prehistoric boys, being prehistoric boys.”

I was never a member of a fraternity, but I know what some guys with a few goblets of Meade in them are capable of.

I’m not sure what kind of a pick-up line he might use.

“Say, I like the way you hang from the trees by your tail and throw your feces around.”

Why shouldn’t I assume that some female chimps were the seductresses?

“Mrs. Bubbles, you’re trying to seduce me.”

Maybe after watching some early man hunt and kill a saber-toothed tiger, a female chimp decided that he was “the one” for her. Dressed…okay, undressed, in her best fur, Ms. Bubbles swings from tree-to-tree in an effort to get her man’s attention. She then sashays seductively by and until he can no longer restrain himself and a new romance is born.

Nah, I doubt it.

While raising some questions, the article leaves some things unanswered such as: “It is not known why human ancestors would have begun mating with chimpanzee ancestors again, or why they would have stopped.”

Let me take a stab at that one. They started mating with chimps again because they hadn’t seen any women in a very, very long time. They stopped when they were reunited with some women and/or they realized that they were having sex with chimpanzees.

Technically this comes under the term “hybrids” which is “the term for offspring with parents of different species.” The article cites as an example, the recent discovery of a combination grizzly bear and polar bear in Canada, which to me sounds less like an interbreeding of species then a marriage between races. I mean, they’re both bears, right? It’s just that one’s black and one’s white.

There may well have been other species that were hybrids that have yet to be discovered, or at least ones that I’d like to imagine.

The Grizzly Dog---A 400-pound beast with razor sharp claws and teeth that can kill an antelope with one swipe of its giant paw, it can also fetch your newspaper and slippers.

The Woolly Hog---This combination of woolly mammoth and ground hog sticks its head through the ice on a February morning amid great fanfare. If it sees its shadow, that means another 2 million years until extinction.

The Polar Bird---This white, furry creature weighs 400-pounds, but can fly and say things like “Polly wants a Salmon.”

A Gir-ant---Perhaps the most unlikely mating combination, this creature has the body of an ant and the four-foot neck of a giraffe. It quickly becomes extinct though, as upon reaching maturation, it is continually crushed by the weight of its own neck.

If the theory of evolution is to be believed, or at least heard before it is banned from public schools, humans too must be continuing to evolve.

I can’t wait to find out what I turn into.

Posted by dmargarita at 10:57 PM

May 12, 2006

Little Green Men (and Women)

I had thought that NASA probes proved that the existence of life on Mars was not what Hollywood movies had always portrayed it to be. Lately, as I travel through Stoneham I can’t help but notice that we’re being invaded by Little Green Men.

Actually, I’m referring to little green figures that seems to be all the rage of parents who want to warn motorists that children are playing in the neighborhood.

A noteworthy goal to be sure, but it seems that the traditional signs posted on telephone poles haven’t been doing the job. We’ve all seen these signs; yellow with a running figure that has a round head and no hands or feet with the words “slow children.”

One can interpret this phrase in a few ways. First, it could mean that children in the neighborhood do not run fast, which is understandable given that he/she has no feet. Secondly, it could mean that motorists should proceed slowly due to the presence of children. There is a third option in which it is a comment on the child not being too bright, but that seems the least likely option.

There is another version of this sign which has two figures. One is the round-headed, handless and footless character, while the other is smaller and wearing a skirt. I’m guessing that the latter is supposed to be a either a little girl or a small Scotsman in a kilt. If indeed it is a girl, then it’s pretty frightening because there’s no clothing reference on the other figure meaning that he’s naked, in which case instead of slowing down, you’d better cal 9-1-1 and get that little girl away from him.

The advent of Little Green Men seems to be a fairly new phenomenon. In the past, parents were content to use orange cones to cordon off areas where children would be playing. Presumably, the downside of that would be the danger of directionless cars veering off of highways as they approach unguarded construction projects due to the loss of pilfered orange cones.

Of course, when approaching most construction sites, one usually sees a posted sign that reads “Men Working.”

That seems unduly sexist in this day and age. After all, we’ve gone from using the terms policeman, firemen and mailmen to police officers, fire fighters and letter carriers. Of course men are still referred to as men, but there could easily be women working outside these days. So, shouldn’t “Workers Ahead” or “People Working” or “Homo Sapiens Working” signs be used instead?

Sometimes the signs get more specific such as “Men Working in Trees.” If we’re going to get specific, why not give us their complete itinerary?

“Men Working in Trees, Then Going to Lunch.”

Understandably, there’s only so much information that they can fit on a sign. It would be impractical to write “Men Working in Trees, Then Going Home and Having a Fight with Their Wives Because They Never Take Them Anywhere Anymore and Just Lie Around on the Couch and Watch TV and Don’t Help Out Around the House.”

So if you see any of these Little Green Men around town, please remember to slow down…or call NASA.

Posted by dmargarita at 9:28 PM

January 2, 2006

2005: The Year in Review

Hello, all. A new year has commenced which usually means an old one has passed. As such, it is once again time for my annual “Year in Review” which I do every year, hence the word “annual.” The following include some of the highlights and lowlights of 2005.

Jan. 12---U.S. ends it’s search for weapons of mass destruction in Iraq, it’s initial excuse for going to war, declaring there are no such weapons there. President Bush hints at a possible invasion of Tibet claiming there is incontrovertible evidence that “Bigfoot” exists.

Jan. 16---A 67-year-old woman in Romania becomes the oldest known woman ever to give birth. She claims her boyfriend pressured her into sex.

Jan. 20---President George W. Bush is sworn in as president for a second term. This will prove to be the year’s highlight for Bush as things go straight downhill as the year progresses.

Feb. 14----National Missile Defense System fails when an intercepting rocket doesn’t fire due to software malfunction. Scientists conclude that computer system failed due to clogging by spammers’ “Viagra” ads.

Feb. 16---National Hockey League officially cancels its season due to a lockout. America is stunned, asking “There’s a National Hockey League?”

Mar. 16---New England Journal of Medicine reports that if childhood obesity continues, the current generation of children will live 2-5 fewer years. President Bush claims that this is part of his Social Security reform program to reduce the number of future benefits holders.

Apr. 2---Pope John Paul II dies. He becomes the second Pope John Paul to die.

Apr. 19---Conclave of Cardinals select Joseph Ratzinger as the next Pope. It is an unusual choice given that Ratzinger is best known for playing “Cliff” on the TV show “Cheers.”

Apr. 22---Bush Nominates a new Chairman of the Joints Chiefs of Staff as Gen. Richard Myers is to be replaced by Gen. Peter Pace. Other candidates include: Clark Kent, Bruce Banner and Peter Parker.

May 16---Women in Kuwait win the right to vote. In keeping the the 1920's theme, the Boston Red Sox once again sell Babe Ruth to the New York Yankees.

May 31---Former FBI number 2 man Mark Felt, reveals that he was “Deep Throat,” the secret source for journalists who uncovered the 1970’s Watergate scandal. Convicted Watergate burglar G. Gordon Liddy reveals that while in prison, he too was known as “Deep Throat.”

Jun. 13---A California jury acquits singer Michael Jackson of 10 charges, including molesting a child, conspiracy, and providing alcohol to minors. The District Attorney’s office decides to re-examine just what crimes celebrities can be convicted of in Los Angeles.

Jun. 30---Spain legalizes gay marriage. Matador uniforms become Spain’s version of ugly bridesmaids dresses.

Jul. 6---London selected as the site for the 2012 Olympics. Sir Roger Bannister, the first man to break the four-minute mile barrier, is chosen to throw out the first scone.

Aug. 2---Musicians urge the world to unite to end poverty in Africa with “Live 8” concert. Unfortunately, they forget to unite in telling anyone about it and nobody pays attention.

Aug. 3---South Korean scientists clone a dog. Rather than a scientific endeavor though, the cloned dog provides lunch for six.

Sep. 1---New Orleans descends into chaos in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. Desperate coeds trapped on rooftops are forced to flash themselves to get rescue lifts from helicopters.

Sep. 19---NASA releases plan for moon visit by 2018. The purpose will be to determine if there really is a dark side.

Oct. 3---President selects longtime friend Harriet Miers to be the next Supreme Court Justice, even though she has never been a judge. Bush explains his actions, saying “Hey, before I took this job, I’d never been president.”

Oct. 10---U.S. House of Representatives votes, 283–144, in favor of legislation that shields gun makers and dealers from liability lawsuits. Gun makers begin developing new shields against people who can no longer file lawsuits.

Oct. 26---New Iranian president Mahmoud Ahmadinejad declares that Israel should be “wiped off the map.” This proves to be a disturbing event for Israel, not to mention map makers.

Oct. 28---Vice President Cheney’s Chief of Staff, Lewis “Scooter” Libby is indicted for obstruction of justice, perjury, making false statements and having the most immature nickname for a high-ranking federal official.

Nov. 15---Washington reporter Bob Woodward admits to withholding a leak. He also admits that he withheld information that he learned Valerie Plame was a CIA operative before other reporters but didn’t tell anyone.

Nov. 15---Major League Baseball and Players Association agree to steroid policy that suspends players for ten games for a first offense, 100 games for a second offense and a lifetime ban for a third offense for testing positive. A fourth positive test will earn a player a large book contract.

Dec. 13---The oldest known Mayan mural is discovered. Dating to about 100 B.C., the mural depicts the Mayan myth of creation. A Pennsylvanian school district immediately demands that the theory be taught in schools as an alternative theory to evolution.

Dec. 15---President Bush reluctantly agrees to back a bill by Senator John McCain that bans cruel, inhumane and degrading treatment of prisoners held in American custody. Bush is forced to console himself with the idea that he can always go back to Texas and execute retarded prisoners.

Dec. 15---The New York Times reports that in 2002 President Bush signed an order that allowed the National Security Agency to spy without warrants on U.S. citizens who are suspected of connections to terrorists. It’s the right move by our president, a great guy whom I like, respect and never speak ill of, I swear.

Dec. 20---Federal Judge John Jones rules that is unconstitutional for a Pa. school district to teach “intelligent design” in biology classes as an alternative to evolution, citing it as “a religious view” and “not a scientific theory.” Ancient Mayans protest.

There you have it, folks. Here’s hoping for a peaceful, joyous and prosperous 2006.

Posted by dmargarita at 3:35 PM

December 6, 2005

Another Year and Counting

Thanksgiving in New England is traditionally a time of turkey, football and napping, generally in that order. It is also a time of high school reunions, one of which I recently had the pleasure to attend.

While my high school years hardly seem like the Dark Ages, visiting the past made me realize just how much things have changed and how much time has passed.

When I was in high school there were no such things as Minoxidil and Viagra. Anyway, even had they existed back then, your average high school boy doesn’t need them and true to the spirit of teenage belief in one’s own invincibility, thinks he’ll never need them.

Music was listened to on a record player and if you said “see-dee” you were referring to a cheap motel. An album was a music disc to be listened to and not a place to put photographs. Pope John Paul II was a middle-aged man.

Yet it wasn’t my reunion or a birthday that recently made me consider the passing years and aware of my own mortality, but filling out some life insurance forms.

The option in question was a “death and dismemberment” clause. To my astonishment, I discovered that my family receives no more money for my dismemberment than for my death, making the use of the word “dismemberment” here seem redundant and unnecessary.

Having no formal medical training, I assumed that one can die without being dismembered but not be dismembered without dying. So if there’s no more money involved in this dismemberment scenario, why bother to put “dismemberment” in the title? Do I need that image in my head?

Thus, if they’re going to mention a potential cause of death in addition to death itself, why choose dismemberment? You could have a “death and asphyxiation” clause, a “death and car-wreck” clause or a “death and falling off the roof and breaking your neck while cleaning the gutters” clause.

In a way, it’s too bad there isn’t more money in being dismembered because then I wouldn’t hesitate to give the following instructions to my friends: If you stumble across my obviously dead, lifeless body and have access to an axe or chainsaw, feel free to go to town on me. Hey, if I’m already dead, what’s the difference? I’m already dead. I’m not going to get any more dead. At least my family would make out better because of it.

Alas, my Webster’s Dictionary defines “dismember” as: “to cut off or disjoin the limbs, members or parts of.”

Therefore, by that definition you needn’t go completely Texas Chainsaw Massacre on me. A toe or a thumb would suffice, as would a Loreena Bobbitt. Yet, it still wouldn’t get me any more money.

Somehow it seemed less gruesome when the Scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz said “First, they threw my arms over there. Then, they threw my legs over there.”

One of the plusses of the passing of time are the tremendous advances in medicine.
Perhaps if I ever am dismembered, by that time they will have easily replaceable limbs.

Posted by dmargarita at 10:40 PM

Another Year and Counting

Thanksgiving in New England is traditionally a time of turkey, football and napping, generally in that order. It is also a time of high school reunions, one of which I recently had the pleasure to attend.

While my high school years hardly seem like the Dark Ages, visiting the past made me realize just how much things have changed and how much time has passed.

When I was in high school there were no such things as Minoxidil and Viagra. Anyway, even had they existed back then, your average high school boy doesn’t need them and true to the spirit of teenage belief in one’s own invincibility, thinks he’ll never need them.

Music was listened to on a record player and if you said “see-dee” you were referring to a cheap motel. An album was a music disc to be listened to and not a place to put photographs. Pope John Paul II was a middle-aged man.

Yet it wasn’t my reunion or a birthday that recently made me consider the passing years and aware of my own mortality, but filling out some life insurance forms.

The option in question was a “death and dismemberment” clause. To my astonishment, I discovered that my family receives no more money for my dismemberment than for my death, making the use of the word “dismemberment” here seem redundant and unnecessary.

Having no formal medical training, I assumed that one can die without being dismembered but not be dismembered without dying. So if there’s no more money involved in this dismemberment scenario, why bother to put “dismemberment” in the title? Do I need that image in my head?

Thus, if they’re going to mention a potential cause of death in addition to death itself, why choose dismemberment? You could have a “death and asphyxiation” clause, a “death and car-wreck” clause or a “death and falling off the roof and breaking your neck while cleaning the gutters” clause.

In a way, it’s too bad there isn’t more money in being dismembered because then I wouldn’t hesitate to give the following instructions to my friends: If you stumble across my obviously dead, lifeless body and have access to an axe or chainsaw, feel free to go to town on me. Hey, if I’m already dead, what’s the difference? I’m already dead. I’m not going to get any more dead. At least my family would make out better because of it.

Alas, my Webster’s Dictionary defines “dismember” as: “to cut off or disjoin the limbs, members or parts of.”

Therefore, by that definition you needn’t go completely Texas Chainsaw Massacre on me. A toe or a thumb would suffice, as would a Loreena Bobbitt. Yet, it still wouldn’t get me any more money.

Somehow it seemed less gruesome when the Scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz said “First, they threw my arms over there. Then, they threw my legs over there.”

One of the plusses of the passing of time are the tremendous advances in medicine.
Perhaps if I ever am dismembered, by that time they will have easily replaceable limbs.

Posted by dmargarita at 10:40 PM

November 12, 2005

The Beginning of the End

It was quite a startling revelation to me when I realized recently that I’m going to die. Hopefully, not for another 40-50 years, but you know, someday.

It wasn’t a birthday or some sort of near-death experience that made me aware of my mortality, but dealing with a work-related insurance policy. The option in question was a “death and dismemberment” clause. To my astonishment, I discovered that my family receives no more money for my dismemberment than for my death, making the title of the clause seem merely redundant.

I have no formal medical training, but I’m guessing that one can die without being dismembered but not be dismembered without dying. So if there’s no more money involved in this scenario, why bother to put “dismemberment” in the title? Do I need that image in my head?

Somehow it seemed less gruesome when the Scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz said “First, they threw my arms over there. Then, they threw my legs over there.”

Thus, if they’re going to mention a potential cause of death in addition to death itself, why choose dismemberment? You could have a “death and asphyxiation” clause, a “death and car-wreck” clause or a “death and falling off the roof and breaking your neck while cleaning the gutters” clause.

In a way, it’s too bad there isn’t more money in being dismembered because then I wouldn’t hesitate to give the following instructions to my friends: If you stumble across my obviously dead, lifeless body and have access to an axe or chainsaw, feel free to go to town on me. Hey, if I’m already dead, what’s the difference? I’m already dead. I’m not going to get any more dead. At least my family would make out better because of it.

Alas, that not being an option, if you come across my obviously dead, lifeless body, I guess you should just call 9-1-1.

Another reminder of the passage of time is my upcoming high school reunion. When I graduated from high school, there weren’t such things as “Minoxidil” or “Viagra” and anyway, at that age we never would’ve thought that we’d ever need them. As we now approach middle-age, we thank God for Minoxidil and Viagra to make us look and feel more like we’re in high school again.

Back then Pope John Paul II was a middle-aged man and if you said “SEE-DEE” you were referring to a cheap motel, not a music disc. An album was the music disc you’d listen to and not just a place to keep photographs.

If you wanted to write to someone, you picked up a piece of paper and a pen. Then you wrote down your message and mailed it in an envelope. In this age of email, the idea of writing a letter now is the equivalent of how we looked at sending a telegram then. Merely a quaint but inconvenient form of communication from a simpler time.

There are other consequences of getting older. A friend about my age was noting the necessity of having to get a prostate exam. He said he went to Dr. So-and-so, because he’d known him for years.

“I figure that if you’re going to have someone stick his finger up your butt, you’d better make sure he’s a friend” he explained.

I replied “If you’re going to have someone stick his finger up your butt, you’d better make sure he’s a doctor.”

(A door opens) “Hi, I’d like to---hey! What the---I just came in to look at wallpaper samples! Well, if I’m going to be bent over in this position, could at least put some samples in front of me?”

Admit it; I just made you long for the image of me being dismembered, didn’t I?

Posted by dmargarita at 4:09 PM

October 10, 2005

86 This Sox Season

Much was made of the end of the so-called “Curse of the Bambino” when the Red Sox won the World Series last year. With the recent passing of actor/comedian Don Adams, however, I finally realized that somehow that the Sox curse actually revolves around him, and perhaps should be known as “The Curse of Don Adams.”

A stretch, you say? Let me explain. Adams is best known for playing the bumbling spy Maxwell Smart on the TV show Get Smart. Fans of the show are aware that Smart was Agent 86, working for the government spy agency, Control. That number was not chosen randomly, but for comic reasons as the term to “86” something, means to cease doing it.

As any Red Sox fan can tell you, the number 86 plays a prominent role in Red Sox history. It took the team 86 years to win a World Series, their last coming in 1918. Since that year when the Sox won the Series and the Allies won World War I, the Sox history has been littered with teams that continued take their fans to the brink of success, only to fail miserably in the end.

Each collapse seemed worse than the last one with the team finding imaginative new ways to disappoint, in manners that would be more astounding every time. One doesn’t even have to be a Sox fan to know that the mother of all El Foldo’s was the Bill Buckner ground ball World Series, naturally, in 1986.

Much is made of the fact that the Red Sox played their first game at Fenway Park just days after the Titanic sank in 1912. Yet few people know that Don Adams was born on April 13, 1923 in New York City, five days before the Yankees played their first game at Yankee Stadium, en route to their first World Series championship that season. A coincidence, you say?

Many newspaper wags, at least the more cynical ones (okay, Dan Shaughnessey), made note when the Red Sox posted their retired numbers on the right field facade. Initially they were positioned in the order 9-4-1-8. Of course, the Boston Globe columnist pointed out that the date 9/4/18 was the day before the first game of the 1918 World Series.

Those numbers were soon rearranged to avoid that look, and later the Red Sox added the number 27 for Hall of Famer Carlton Fisk. In addition, the Sox, along with all of Major League Baseball, included the number 42 for baseball legend Jackie Robinson.

I can out-do Shaughnessey on the numbers, here. If you add 27+9+8+4+1 you get a total of 49. If the Red Sox ever retire the number of the popular left-hander Bill Lee, number 37, the total will equal 86. If you add Jackie Robinson’s number 42 with 27, 9, 8, 4, and 1, you get a total of 91. Okay, that total exceeds the number 86, but if you consider that Nomar Garciaparra wore number 5 and for years was considered a shoo-in to make the Hall of Fame and get his number retired, his parting with the team and his downward career track make that unlikely possibility. Thus, you can subtract the number 5 from 91 and it goes down to number 86.

Let’s also remember that Red Sox exec Larry Lucchino referred to the Yankees as “The Evil Empire.” As noted earlier, Smart worked for the good guys, Control, America’s bumbling but well-intentioned organization. Sound like a baseball team you know? Smart’s nemesis, Siegfried, worked for Kaos; an evil empire, if there ever was one.

Sox fans can at least be glad that their team wasn’t cursed by actress Barbara Feldon, who played Agent 99 on the show. Then the team wouldn’t have won until 2017. Perhaps with the loss of Adams, she will put a new curse on the Sox and they won’t win a World Series for 99 years from their last one.

Would you believe, in 2103?

Posted by dmargarita at 6:31 PM

September 22, 2005

America’s War Scorecard

Now that we’ve reached autumn both officially and seasonally (Finally? We hope? Wishful thinking?), all eyes in Boston turn to the Red Sox and their quest to defend their championship title. Meanwhile, things are also getting hotter in Washington, where the Bush Administration is hoping for victory as they try to defend their record as “War Champs” in Iraq.

America has had a largely successful record in wartime and the Iraq War will likely outlast George W. Bush’s presidency. If the U.S. loses, it will go on his record. Kind of like a pitcher leaving the game in the sixth inning with his team losing 6-4. Another pitcher comes in and if the team rallies, the other pitcher gets the win. If they don’t, the first pitcher gets the loss.

Surely, President Bush is aware of the fact that the success or failure of this war will be his legacy, as many past presidents have had their terms defined by war. Whether he began this war on ideological grounds or to boost his “stats,” I don’t know.

It is well-known that he was once a minority owner of the Texas Rangers baseball team and remains a big fan of the game. Americans are notoriously ill-informed with respect to history but are quite learned when it comes to sports. Thus putting America’s war record in a sports page type of format might make it more palatable to learn. In that light, let us now look at America’s “War Scorecard” to see how we’ve fared through our nation’s various conflicts.

The French/Indian War---Contrary to what the name suggests, this was not a battle between the French and the Indians. America’s “pre-season” war featured the British against France, with the Indians fighting mainly on the side of the British. This “spring training” war gave some much-needed “seasoning” to future American war star George Washington. Though the youngster fared badly by ambushing some French diplomats and later surrendering Fort Necessity, he gained experience that would later proved invaluable when called up to “The Show.”
(W) Britain
(L) France, Native Americans

The American Revolution---After a rocky start, America had a sensational rookie season, thanks to late-season pick-up France, which allowed America to defeat the superior British forces for its first war victory. The French were enlisted with the aide of the Marquis de LaFayette, a French import who became a one-war wonder for the Americans.
(W) Washington
(L) King George
(S) LaFayette

The War of 1812---Forget the Sox-Yankees rivalry, this rematch featured the Yankees-Redcoats. After years of spoiling for a return engagement, Great Britain once again locked horns with the U.S. and led for much of the conflict, going so far as to burn The White House. Play of the Game goes to Dolley Madison, wife of President James Madison, when Mrs. Madison rescued Gilbert Stuart’s famed portrait of George Washington before the conflagration. She would later reap a key endorsement for a line of snack cakes.

America managed to rally for a late-season victory, although many might consider the conflict a draw. This could not be so, since America became a coffee drinking nation and its citizens don’t say “ ’ello Guvn’r.”

Once again Native Americans fought on the side of the British with the hope of regaining their lands, but as usual are out-muscled by the wealthier, big-market teams.
(W) J. Madison
(L) Native Americans
(S) D. Madison

The Mexican-American War---America’s first venture into “expansion” was a pure land-grab. The U.S. picked up Texas on waivers after Texas became a free agent by declaring its independence from Mexico, which was news to Mexico.

President James K. Polk sent Gen. Zachary Taylor to confront Mexico’s army, led by Gen. Santa Anna. Taylor defeated the Mexicans despite being vastly outnumbered, thus making him a national hero and automatically eligible for the presidential draft.

One consequence of the war was that acquiring the new territories meant that the issue of slavery had to be determined in those territories, a.k.a. the “Designated Hater” rule. With this issue unsettled, it would eventually lead to the Civil War.
(W) Polk
(L) Santa Anna
(S) Taylor

The Civil War---America’s “inter-squad scrimmage” pitted the North versus the South. After a hard-fought conflict, the North won but tragically, changed managers just after the season. Confederate President Jefferson Davis is imprisoned, thus losing eligibility for the Hall of Fame.
(W) Lincoln, Slaves
(L) Davis
(S) U.S. Grant

The Spanish-American War---Another expansion effort largely promoted by newspaperman William Randolph Hearst, this was America’s first “away” war.

When the USS Maine was sunk in February of 1898, Hearst et al proclaimed it the result of an act of war by Spain. Although likely an accident, Americans were primed for war thanks to good p.r. work by Hearst.

Spain, once a big-market team along with Britain and France, is permanently relegated to the second division after losing Cuba, Puerto Rico and the Philippines to the U.S.

Teddy Roosevelt becomes the war MVP, winning the Triple Crown as military leader, statesman and icon.
(W) Hearst
(L) Spain
(S) T. Roosevelt

World War I (a.k.a. The Great War)---The “War to End All Wars” made the USA a superstar on the world stage. After years of carnage in Europe, the US enters late in the contest as a closer to clinch the victory under the military leadership of Gen. John J. “Black Jack” Pershing.

President Woodrow Wilson’s dream of a “League of Nations” comes to fruition after the war, but to his dismay, the U.S. doesn’t become a member. Poor contract negotiations in the off-season leave Germany destitute, leaving a power vacuum that would pave the way for a dictator to take control.
(W) Wilson
(L) Wilson
(S) Pershing

World War II---The even more popular sequel to World War I, World War II establishes the US as the greatest military dynasty in history. The power of America becomes so frightening that a call goes out among the USSR and it allies to “Break up the Yanks” which ensures a bitter and tense post-war era known as the “Cold War.”

Harry Truman enters the game late to replace the deceased Franklin D. Roosevelt who had been the starter for the U.S. Truman closes out the conflict by dropping two atomic bombs on Japan, making the US the first country to be “juiced” during wartime.
(W) F.D. Roosevelt
(L) Hitler
(S) Truman

The Korean War---After having an undefeated (6-0) record, America suffers a draw. Not on its game, the U.S. is forced to battle an opponent that is able to draft players from China and the U.S.S.R.
(W) None
(L) All

The Viet Nam War---Getting a little long in the tooth, America suffers its first defeat. Poor management by the front office marks the contest from the beginning. Lyndon Johnson assumes the presidency after the death of John F. Kennedy and squanders the goodwill of the public by maintaining a presence in the war. The extra-inning affair essentially ends after the U.S. heads for the showers, with the South Vietnamese taking the shared loss.
(W) Communists
(L) Johnson, Nixon, S. Vietnamese

Grenada---Still reeling from the Vet Nam loss, President Ronald Reagan schedules a tune-up bout with the tiny country of Grenada, a small country located…somewhere. The successful match with the “Bum of the Month Club” country enables the U.S. to boost its self-esteem in preparation for a possible larger contest with the U.S.S.R.

Ostensibly, the stated goal is to rescue U.S. medical students in the country but the conflict takes the country of Grenada out of the hands of its left-wing government. Though it counts as a victory in the standing, many purists bemoan the “watering down” of talent.
(W) Regan
(L) Medical patients everywhere

The Gulf War---Using new, high-tech equipment, the U.S. puts on an offensive explosion against Iraq after they make an attempt to expand their market into neighboring Kuwait. Iraqi manager Saddam Hussein promises the “Mother of All Battles” but barely provides the “Step-niece of All Battles” against the larger market Coalition Forces.

Still, despite the pummeling, Hussein is allowed to remain as Iraqi manager which causes later problems for the U.S.
(W) G. H. W. Bush, S. Hussein
(L) S. Hussein, G. H. W. Bush
(S) Schwarzkopf

The Iraq War (a.k.a. Gulf War II)---Reminiscent of Viet Nam, the conflict has started with poor management from the front office and may go extra innings. After a great first inning, the contest has gotten tougher for the U.S. and who will get the win remains to be seen.

Other Conflicts---Certainly there has been no lack of other military excursions of varying degrees, but while they were all too real to the combatants and those affected by them, they lack enough “innings” to qualify for comment here.

Of course, war is no game and it is not my intent to make light of it, nor the suffering it causes.

Hopefully if more people can be moved to learn history through whatever means, mistakes won’t be repeated and war might go the way of the St. Louis Browns.

Posted by dmargarita at 4:39 PM

August 22, 2005

Stones Still Gather No Moss

After seeing the Rolling Stones perform last night at Fenway Park, all I can say is that I’d like to be in as good a shape as Mick Jagger is in when I’m his age. In fact I’d like to be in that good a shape when I’m my age.

Sure Keith Richard looks like he became a member of the undead in the mid-seventies, and Jagger and Ron Wood have more wrinkles than your average shar-pei. So what if drummer Charlie Watts resembles the late newscaster David Brinkley (before he died)?

The rock & roll sexagenarians (an appropriate term for the libidinous Jagger) opened their latest tour at Boston’s fabled ballfield, Fenway Park, last evening and for all the hype and hyped-up ticket prices, largely delivered a show that kept the faithful happy.

I was able to acquire seats from a friend who had to leave town and missed the show and wound up sitting in section 20, behind home plate. Those are terrific seats for a game, but the direct opposite of the stage, about as far away from the stage as you can get, however an enormous video screen behind the stage made the distance irrelevant.

For Red Sox fans familiar with buying bottled water or soda at the ballpark, it came as a bit of a surprise that bottled soda had to be poured into cups to be taken away from concession stands. Presumably this was a precaution to see that no drunken fan hurled a bottle at the Rock legends, although if I could have hit someone onstage from where I was sitting, I should be immediately inserted into the Red Sox pitching rotation.

The band opened up with “Start Me Up” from the “Tattoo You” album (or CD as the kids call them today).

Jagger then addressed the crowd noting that Boston is a “city of champions” with the Patriots and Red Sox, which drew predictable cheers. He then introduced “the Governor of California” which drew predictable boos, except from the guy behind me who yelled “He’s a queer! He’s a queer!”

Pretty brave words to say to a former body-building champion in a noisy crowd from 300 feet away.

Regrettably, the first half of the show featured new tunes and songs dating back no further then 1978’s over-rated “Some Girls” album, but the second half of the show kicked into gear with their “Classic Rock” material.

Highlights of the show included a tribute to the late Ray Charles with a great version of Charles’ “Night Time is the Right Time” and two numbers with Keith Richard on lead vocal.

I believe that he also made a reference to the Red Sox of some sort during his pre-song speech. It’s hard to say because the difference between my English and Keith Richard’s English is the difference between Portuguese and Spanish. Enough words are similar that you can understand most of it and get the gist of the conversation, yet they’re two totally different languages.

The band returned for a three-song encore. The first of the trio was “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” which the homophobic, Schwarzenegger-hating guy behind me took pains to let us all know was his favorite song. He then launched into his own off-key rendition, but moving a few feet away returned the stage to Jagger & Co. for me.

Then it was time for the largely baby-boomer crowd to go home and rest up for tomorrow’s day at work.

In the end, it was only rock & roll, but I liked it.

Okay, pretty hackneyed, but you didn’t expect me to end with something else, did you?

Posted by dmargarita at 5:37 PM

August 20, 2005

Rise Up, America!

American’s are stressed out. Perhaps it’s the constant threat of terrorism. Perhaps it’s our overworked, fast-paced lives. Judging by certain commercials on TV though, the cause maybe something much more primal… we’re not having enough sex.

At the very least, the sex we’re having isn’t good enough or lasting long enough.

What else are we to conclude from the numerous commercials that advertise various “erectile dysfunction” products?

Just try to watch a sporting event that doesn’t have a commercial for either beer or an erectile dysfunction product. They make for an odd pairing since the “E.D.” commercials come with a warning that their product shouldn’t be used when drinking alcohol. I suspect that the reason for the warning isn’t medically related but more a case of realizing the potential danger of a drunk guy on the loose with an unrelenting erection, although this pretty much happens on any given Saturday night in any singles bar.

In one of the ads the announcer states “Although rare, erections lasting longer than four hours may require medical attention.”

First of all, “although rare?”

Doesn’t this guy remember high school?

Secondly, if my erection lasts more than four hours, “doctor” is not the profession I’ll be seeking out.

Lately, Viagra has been in the news after it was reported that a number of users of the drug suffered from blindness soon after taking the product. There was no mention of whether they also developed hairy palms.

According the The Washington Post, a safety inspector at the Food & Drug Administration reported a possible link between Viagra and blindness nearly 13 months before it became public knowledge, yet nothing was done to warn doctors or users of Viagra about the potential link.

It was only after the link was reported in the Journal of Neuro-Ophthalmology (I love their swim-suit issue!) did the FDA make any public announcement on the subject. Prior to that there would’ve been just a bunch of confused, aroused men blind guys wandering around the house, knocking over lamps.

The apparent cause of the blindness to my understanding, seems to be from a lack of blood flow to the optic nerve during arousal when the medication redirects the blood flow to a more important organ. Those suffering from the blindness have a small optic nerve which restricts blood-flow to the eye. Now, if they can just develop a product to increase the size of a man’s optic nerve.

Speaking of size, not only are we not getting enough, long enough, apparently we seem to feel we’re not big enough. This seems to be the basis of the ad for “Enzyte” which promises “Natural Male Enhancement.” The commercial features a guy named “Smilin’ Bob” whom they imply is smiling because his use of Enzyte has made him, shall we say, larger than life.

In actuality, Enzyte is apparently just another form of Viagra, as they are careful to note on their website (which I checked out strictly for research purposes) that Enzyte cannot enhance the size of one’s member, but merely improve the duration and experience.

That’s reason enough to smile.

Posted by dmargarita at 3:37 PM

April 18, 2005

A Healthier Walk Down Sesame Street

Millions of American children are growing obese, in part because of their tendency to plant themselves in front of the television and get little exercise. Now a plan is in the works to teach kids the benefits of healthy eating by watching television.

The Associated Press recently reported that the PBS show Sesame Street, which just entered its 36th season, will open each episode with a health tip about nutrition, exercise, hygiene and rest. Perhaps for any original fans of the show that might still be watching, they could talk about hair loss, anti-depressants and erectile dysfunction.

The most notable change will be that of Cookie Monster who will tell children the benefits of eating "healthy foods." Perhaps he came to the conclusion that years of scarfing down chocolate chip cookies might have something to do with his blue complexion.

The show has a wonderful history of teaching children numbers and letters but apparently feels that they may have inadvertently also taught kids a lesson in gluttony and nothing about self-control.

One can only wonder if all of the Sesame Street characters will offer tips on health and hygiene based on their own lifestyles. Oscar the Grouch might want to inform kids that it's very unhygienic to live in a garbage can, and of course Bert and Ernie really ought to pass on some tips about the importance of practicing "safe sex."

The show will even include a new song "A Cookie Is a Sometimes Food" (not to be confused with the Bob Dylan song of the same name) where Cookie Monster learns there are "anytime" foods and "sometimes" foods. While a lesson in moderation is always valued, that's not the approach you would find in most 12-step programs. I strongly doubt that there's ever been an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting that stressed the difference between "anytime" booze and "sometimes" booze.

The show will also feature guest appearances by members of congress, including Sen. Bill Frist, a licensed physician and Sen. Hillary Clinton. In one show Frist teaches Elmo to jump up and down and that Muppett life begins at conception. Clinton will discuss the taste and textures of food and the need to stay healthy because of her botched attempt to get national health care.

The news of the health push can be found on the Sesame Street website press page (just above the release titled "Grover Goes Global") which states that "More than a dozen U.S. Senators taped public service messages with Sesame Street characters Elmo and Rosita."

Considering the constant gridlock in congress, I guess that getting members of both parties to agree that you shouldn?t eat too many chocolate chip cookies is a step in the right direction.

Even seemingly healthy food can cause a problem sometimes, though. Will Cookie Monster make children aware that eating poppy seeds on a roll can cause one to fail a drug test? It's true; poppy seeds show up as opium which recently caused some embarrassment when Bert failed a drug test.

Congress has shown great concern for the health of public figures with its recent foray into the steroid scandal in Major League baseball. Perhaps congress should look into the fact that Big Bird looks "juiced."

Posted by dmargarita at 12:59 PM

February 20, 2005

A Wedding Announcement

Ladies, are you tired of internet dating? The bar scene? Of meeting guys who turn out to be married? It seems that your ideal man may just be down the street at your local elementary school attending gym class. At least, you'd think that judging by recent news reports.

A recent wave of news stories include that of a 24-year-old Florida teacher, Debra Lefave, who allegedly engaged in carnal relations with her 14-year-old student on several occasions, including twice in the back seat of her SUV while the boy?s 15-year-old cousin drove. I can see the porn-parody names already?Driving Miss Crazy, Cannonballs Run and The Amazing Grace. No mention was made of whether the 15-year-old was given a ticket for driving without a permit, although technically there was a licensed driver in the car.

Ms. Lefave taught reading in the Hillsborough County school system for two years. My junior high reading list included April Morning by Howard Fast. The eighth grade might've been more memorable if that list had included Erica Jong's Fear of Flying.

In Tennessee, 27-year-old Pamela Turner, who taught physical education (and then some), was accused of having sex with a 13-year-old student. While the idea of two very attractive, young female teachers seducing students may be a teenage boy's fantasy, if it was a male teacher and female student, there would be well-deserved outrage. As it is, it's being treated like a sit-com premise.

Of course, the most notorious case involving a teacher committing statutory rape was that of Mary Kay Letourneau, who was jailed for having sex with her 12-year-old student Vili Fualaau, with whom she eventually had two children. The couple made the news again recently when it was revealed that the 43-year-old Letourneau and the now 22-year-old Fualaau registered for their upcoming April nuptials with Macy's, and perhaps Toys 'R Us.

Half of all marriages end in divorce these days, with money being the cause of most marriages dissolving, but this couple may face other obstacles like the fact that he is just passing his sexual peak while she is approaching menopause.

Two people that I feel sorry for in all of this are Letourneau's parents, who must be mortified by this turn of events. Most parents would proudly put an announcement of the upcoming marriage of their daughter in the paper, but somehow I don?t think that this was an announcement that they looked forward to writing. If they had to do it though, I imagine it would've included a lot of sarcasm and gone something like this:

The parents of Mary Kay Letourneau, who wish to remain anonymous, are embarrassed to announce the impending marriage of their daughter to Vili Fualaau on April 16, 2005.

The wedding will be a civil ceremony followed immediately by recess. The reception will be at Chuck E. Cheese and will have a cash bar, but juice boxes and sippy cups will be available for free. Entertainment will be provided by The Wiggles.

Ms. Letourneau's wedding dress will be designed by OshKosh B'Gosh and Mr. Fualaau's tuxedo will feature a clip-on bow tie.

Designated drivers are encouraged, and if necessary guests will be given a "time out."

Mr. Fualaau has selected Bobby Wilson, former captain of his Little League team, as his "Best Dude." Ms. Letourneau's Matron of Honor will be Debbie Sue Crapo, who was at one time Mr. Fualaau's baby-sitter.

When I think of the episode of Leave it to Beaver where the Cleavers invite Beaver's teacher Miss Landers over to dinner, I can't reconcile the kid who was stunned to see his teacher's toes with the image of Miss Landers pouncing on the Beaver in the backseat of her DeSoto.

Posted by dmargarita at 1:57 PM

July 27, 2004

D(o) N(ot) C(ome) (to) BOSTON '04

By now, unless you've been living in a cave, you know that the Democratic National Convention is taking place in Boston. Judging by the lack of traffic on the roads, many of you might be living in a cave.

I guess the convention really kicked off Sunday night when political V.I.P.'s showed up at Fenway Park to watch the Red Sox-Yankees game. You know it's big when Ben Affleck gets bumped from his regular privileged seat.

In what might prove to be a bad omen, soon-to-be Democratic nominee John Kerry threw out, or should I say, attempted to throw out the ceremonial first pitch. Standing several feet in front of the pitchers mound, Kerry bounced the ball in front the catcher (actually, a soldier with a catcher's mitt) in a throw that Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger might describe as looking like that of a "girlie-man."

Monday morning, like everyone else, I was wary of the gigantic traffic mess that everybody feared only to find the roads comparatively deserted. Of course, the fact that I was on the road at 6:15 a.m. might have had something to do with it.

The convention officially kicked off at 4 p.m. and among the first speakers (or mumblers) was Mayor Tom Menino. As the mayor of Boston, presumably he was on so early to welcome the delegates. Another possible explanation is that he had to get back to his car before it got towed by Boston cops.

If you want to watch the convention in its entirety, I recommend that you put on C-Span, which follows the events uninterrupted. Although, this means that you have to sit through speeches by people you've never heard of and don't care about. When these people come on the screen it's like when you go to a concert and the performer says "This one's from my latest album." That's when you know it's a good time to go to the bathroom.

Naturally, the national anthem had to be played and it was sung by someone named Bebe Winans. No offense to Mr. Winans, but I've been to enough ballgames and seen enough people doing their "interpretation" of the Star Spangled Banner that I have no desire to see it performed unless it's by someone I know like B.B. King or even actress Bebe Neuwirth. Thank God for TV Land.

The major networks only carried the last hour, from 10:00 to 11:00 pm. That's when the "headliners" came on. Sure there were a couple of "late inning" folks, whom the networks avoided by going to one of their analysts.

One of the featured speakers was a Rev. David Alston who served with John Kerry in Viet Nam. Unfortunately, the reverend seemed to have a strange growth on the side of his head and I suspect he may be more interested in supporting John Edwards because it looks like he has a legitimate case for a malpractice suit against someone.

Al Gore, our most recently elected president, spoke as did Jimmy Carter and actress Glenn Close. Ironically, Close spoke shortly before Hillary Clinton who might've acted like Close's character (with good reason) from the movie "Fatal Attraction" when living in The White House.

Then the senator from New York introduced her husband, Bill Clinton, who closed the proceedings with a rousing speech that wowed the faithful.

After that, there was no need to go to the bullpen.

Posted by dmargarita at 4:35 PM

July 21, 2004

Yellow Fever

Stoneham makes me sick. Well, it might have.

Restaurants in town might start to get nervous when they see me enter their establishment for lunch because it seems that the places I frequent have a habit of getting closed down by the Board of Health. The most recent example being J.J. Grimsby's which had to close after a waitress tested positive for hepatitis A. This of course, is one of those rare times when being a positive person isn't such a good thing.

According to the "hepatitis.about.com" website (whose weight loss offers involve non-dietary means), there several types of hepatitis including A, B, C, D, E, F and G (and sometimes "Y" used as a vowel). It would be just my luck that the first "A" I ever get would be for hepatitis. I guess someone with an hepatitis F just didn't study herd enough.

The website lists several symptoms of hepatitis such as:

Flu-like symptoms (Also often caused by the flu).
Clay colored stool (Why picking ugly furniture is a symptom, I have no idea).
Yellowing of the skin and eyes or jaundice (Apparently the entire cast of "The Simpsons" has hepatitis).
Dark urine (Also caused by drinking green beer on St. Patrick's Day).
Extreme fatigue (In which case you probably don't have the energy to get on the internet to find out the symptoms).
Nausea (Also caused by drinking green beer on St. Patrick's Day)
Vomiting and abdominal pain (Yup, St. Patty's Day again).
It can take several months to a year to feel fit again. (Just in time for the next St. Patty's Day).

The hepatitis case was rare and no fault of Grimsby's but the other restaurants were closed down for general health violations. One of the primary reasons was because of employees not washing their hands after going to the bathroom. This is one thing I'll never understand.

Being a man I have had on occasion to visit many a public men's room. I don't know what goes on in ladies rooms, ladies, but the amount of men who don't wash their hands after going to the bathroom is staggering. Why men do this is beyond me. How long does it take to wash your hands? Are you making some sort of political statement?

I understand that there are emergency situations that arise and there sometimes is no other alternative. I mean, what guy hasn't gone behind a tree, or gone behind a bush or gone off the roof top of his frat house?

Nor did our forefathers always have the proper facilities available. As Lewis and Clark became the first white men to cross the continent, when nature called, the only available facility was nature itself. Lewis and Clark didn't have the option of stopping in at the nearest Texaco station. They also didn't have the luxury of anti-bacterial soap (which of course, was a response to the "pro" bacterial soap of earlier generations).

Non-handwashing by restaurant employees is one of the primary methods of transmission of E. coli bacteria. If you didn't like the symptoms of hepatitis A, you'll hate to hear about E. coli, so I'll spare you the details. Every restaurant men's room that I've ever been in has a sign which reads "Employees must wash hands before returning to work." Perhaps these employees should take a literacy test as well.

Fortunately, Grimby's has been decontaminated and has reopened.

Nonetheless, maybe I'll just start eating at home.

Originally published in the Stoneham Sun.

Posted by dmargarita at 9:37 AM

June 25, 2004

No Kidding

There's nothing more meaningful or perhaps more sacred than the loving relationships we have with others. Therefore, the best way to cultivate a relationship must be through a TV game show!

It seems that you can't do a run through your cable TV channels without passing a show where somebody is trying to find a life partner that they'll select from a group of complete strangers. So why stop at finding a mate? Why not build an entire family while simultaneously getting strong Neilson ratings?

Each year couples spend tens of thousands of dollars on fertility treatments in an effort to start a family. A cheaper option might be to get drunk and go to a prom (hey, it worked for a few girls in my high school). These efforts are not always successful and these couples must find other means.

Adoption is another alternative. For a while Korean children were in, but now Chinese kids seem to be all the rage. They do have a billion people over there and can more easily spare a few of the smaller ones. It's a long, grueling and expensive trip to China that prospective parents must make. Hopefully the Chinese will one day allow foreigners "take out service" by sending the kids along in little white cardboard boxes with wire handles.

Older children need homes too, and they are more difficult to place so why not make it more enticing for someone to adopt an older child?

I figure that it's probably just a matter of time before adoption gets turned into a reality show, so here's my take on how it might go.

Each week a couple will choose a child from a group of children in need of a home. Of course part of the excitement of reality shows is seeing the heartbreak of the losers. What could be more riveting than watching a child's dream of finding a loving home and security be crushed?

A minivan pulls up and out come three children who will be paraded in front of the hopeful couple. The host will introduce each kid.

"Jimmy is ten years old. His parents died in a fire that Jimmy started. His hobbies include, drawing, painting and starting fires. Danielle was taken away from her mother, a convicted prostitute, when she took Danielle for 'take your daughter to work day.' Joey was left on the doorstep of the orphanage when he was a baby. The only note pinned to the blanket read 'Machine wash warm, tumble dry.'"

The parents will spend a day with each child and then will rate each experience.

"We took Jimmy out for dinner" says the mom.

"It was going great until the chef came out with a flaming dish. Jimmy went wild. We wanted to take Danielle to the zoo, but all she wanted to do was hang out on the street corner. Joey was a dream. We went to a baseball game. The only trouble was that we couldn't buy anything because I somehow lost my wallet."

The couple will vote and tears of joy will stream down the cheeks of the winners while the losers will weep at their continued misfortune.

If that's not entertainment, I don't know what is.

America's fascination with reality shows seems to know no boundaries when it comes to subject matter or taste. Therefore we may one day see such shows as:

"Starvation Island"

"Who Wants to Have a Liver Transplant?"

"Xtreme Debt Collection" and

"The Cloning Game"

The ironic thing about reality TV is that seems that we'd rather watch that than be bothered with interacting with other human beings.

No kidding.

Posted by dmargarita at 10:07 PM

June 21, 2004

Who's Who

Identity theft has become a big problem in this country. Here is one man's story:

Growing up in a middle-class, white suburban neighborhood made it a difficult to be a little bit unique. Kids would tease anyone who was the least bit different. If one had big ears, buck teeth or was obese he or she was almost certain to be the victim of constant abuse. I didn't have any physical characteristics that made me stand out, but you'll still take a good ribbing when your name is John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt.

I guess my parents are mainly to blame, although their German heritage is merely an accident of birth and not a conscious choice. My father was Adolf Jingleheimer, of the Dussledorf Jingleheimers. It was during an Oktoberfest afternoon that he met my mother, Greta Schmidt and the two of them immediately fell in love that afternoon (after several steins of lager).

They soon married and being a liberal, Bohemian couple, decided to keep both of their names. That wasn't a problem while living in a German neighborhood where they were neighbors with families like Hans and Eva Lipshitz, not to mention the family that no one could stand, the Shickelgrubers.

After the war (World War II, that is), like so many German scientists, my father emigrated to the United States. What the U.S. Government didn't realize was that my father's specialty was not in munitions but food coloring.

We packed up our belongings and the family dog, Bingo was his name-o, and headed to America. We found a house in a suburb of Detroit and my father got a job with General Motors designing crash test dummies (somebody's got to do it).

Elementary school was hell. I had to survive the constant taunts.

"Hey, Jingle balls!" not to mention some that I can't repeat.

Roll call from substitute teachers always drew some giggles when they got to "Jingleheimer Schmidt, John J."

High school was no picnic, either. I hung out with the freaks, geeks and other outcasts. The only highlight of my high school days was my senior prom. Looking back at the photo now, I chuckle seeing that my hair was almost as long as my date, Rapunzel's.

My grades were pretty good and my father's connections helped me get into Yale, although it was never made clear to me why I was denied entrance into the Skull and Bones Society.

I have worked a number of jobs and moved about the country. No matter where I lived I always ran into the same problem. Whenever I go out, the people always shout "There goes John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt!"

As if that isn't bad enough, for some reason they always feel compelled to follow that up with "Da-da-da-da-da-da-da."

Fortunately, the more they do it, the softer it seems to get.

The problems started for real about a year ago. I noticed charges showing up on my credit card bill. Somebody had been charging things to my account such as dinners, flowers and a jet ski.

I contacted the authorities and they opened an investigation that soon led them to a neighbor of mine named Joseph Schmoe.

It seems that Mr. Schmoe had concocted the idea of assuming my identity after constantly hearing my neighbors yell my name. That alone might not have caused me a problem but when one wise-guy decided to add to the song by yelling out my social security number, Mr. Schmoe had all he needed to go on his spending spree.

After much legal hassle my credit has finally been restored and Mr. Schmoe is doing time in prison.

Thank God I found a good lawyer in the person of Mr. Rumple Stiltskin.

Posted by dmargarita at 1:51 PM

June 9, 2004

Smarty Pants

After much hype, Smarty Jones could not do something that hasn't been done since 1978---The Hustle. No, I mean win the Triple Crown.

The TV coverage for these horse racing events tends be several hours of profiles and over-analysis followed by the two-minute race. The particularly disturbing aspect of this coverage is the attribution of human qualities to the horses.

"That horse has a lot of heart"

Yes, big enough to feed a family of four in some cultures.

I've had several dogs over the years so I know that animals have their own personalities, but a "winning attitude" is not a quality that I think an animal can possess. Other than Mr. Ed, most horses probably don't have an ego. If they did, there'd be no reason for the jockey to whip them on the ass.

Here's a newsflash for you: if you chase me around with a riding crop and keep smacking me on the tush, I'll run faster too.

I know I'll probably never get to a Triple Crown event so I got as close as thought I could by watching the movie "Seabiscuit."

The movie is based on the best-selling book by Laura Hillenbrand, a remarkable woman who was able to write an epic despite being afflicted with a debilitating case of Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. Like I needed a reason to feel even more guilty about lying in bed watching reruns of "The Munsters" instead of sitting at my computer writing.

Yes, I could have read the book but let's face it, watching a movie is quicker.

The story of Seabiscuit, his jockey, trainer and owner is indeed an inspiring one. The film depicts them all as underdogs with Seabiscuit being the glue that held a nation together before becoming glue. As you probably know, during Seabiscuit's time the country was mired in the Great Depression and according to the film, the story of this underdog horse (isn't that an oxymoron?) made people feel better about themselves. Perhaps they just felt better that they didn't have to sleep standing up or spend the day in a small room surrounded by their own excrement.

I have no doubt that Seabiscuit was extremely popular in his time by the fact that The Three Stooges parodied him in a movie with a horse named "Teabiscuit." Perhaps that means that Adam Sandler will be doing a parody of Smarty Jones called "Smarty Pants."

I don't want to spoil the movie for you, but the butler did it. Kidding.

There's a scene where Seabiscuit's jockey tells another jockey that all Seabiscuit has to do is get a good look at his opponent and he'll want to beat him. They make no mention if the other horse owed Seabuscuit money.

Dogs are raced as well, but we don't hear about dogs wanting to win. Perhaps that's because without a rider, their goal seems to be to catch that rabbit that always managed to elude them.

Yet, a few years ago ESPN listed its top 100 North American Athletes of the 20th century and to my chagrin listed two horses, Secretariat and Man O' War, at 35 and 84 respectively.

If they're such great athletes, let's see them play another sport like Bo Jackson did.

Posted by dmargarita at 1:38 PM

May 31, 2004

The Atkins Family

People seem to be willing to try whatever is the latest in dieting fads. Perhaps they should consider diet and exercise.

Everybody wants a "quick fix" and is willing to latch onto whatever bizarre diet or scheme comes along. Rather than bother with something as simple as eating properly and getting even a moderate amount of exercise, Americans would rather have their stomachs stapled, purge themselves or eat an unhealthy-healthy diet.

What is perhaps the best-known diet craze, The Atkins Diet, is under fire by a man suing Atkins promoters, claiming that after two years on the low-carb, high-fat diet his arteries became clogged and he almost died. At this point I am reminded of what Albert Einstein once said----"duhhhhh."

Well, he could've said it.

I'm no dietician but it's been pretty well established that high cholesterol doesn't exactly do wonders for the arteries.

A friend of mine lost 35 pounds when he had his gallbladder removed. Presumably, he didn't have a 35 pound gallbladder, but after realizing that eating unhealthy foods caused him severe abdominal pain, he switched to a healthy diet which in turn helped him lose weight.

However, that does give me an idea for the most radical diet fad yet----having internal organs removed! If you're completely lazy, why bother with frustrating and tiresome things like eating right and exercising when a surgeon can remove those useless organs?

Besides the gallbladder, another needless organ is the appendix. Frankly, an appendix in a book is more useful than the one inside you. It doesn't serve any function except to possibly become inflamed and rupture, causing peritonitis which can kill you if the organ is not removed in time.

People have had kidneys and parts of their stomachs and livers removed and been able to live a comfortable life.

What people find most ironic is when a proponent of healthy lifestyles dies at somewhat young age. You may recall Jim Fixx, author of "The Complete Book of Running" dying of a heart-attack while jogging at age 52 (it should be noted that he had a family history of heart disease). Linda McCartney, promoted a line of vegetarian food products and died of cancer at age 56. Yet somehow, Rolling Stone's guitarist/songwriter/walking corpse Keith Richard has spent a lifetime chain-smoking, drinking and taking drugs and still maintains a pulse.

Who says life is fair?

Stomach stapling has become a more common form of weight loss for morbidly obese people. Of course those who don't care may opt to have another stomach stapled on.

The procedure uses staples or stitches to close off part of the stomach to about the size of an egg (thank you, CNN), which is pretty ironic since it would make them perfect candidates to start the Atkins diet of which the egg is a suitable food.

For those who would like to exercise, there are no shortage of products being advertised on TV. The Bowflex commercials seems to be on somewhere, sometime at every hour of the day.

Americans seem obsessed with having rock-hard abs with so many commercials for products designed to give you "six-pack" abs. The makers of these products are obviously aware that they can cash in on the fact that so many Americans have "half-keg" abs.

Well, all this talk of food has made me hungry.

The most important factor for me is that it tastes good.

Posted by dmargarita at 8:30 PM

May 17, 2004

The Last Word

Dear Readers,
Some of you may have noticed several times recently that you've been unable to find the latter part of my column in this paper. That's OK, I haven't been able to find them either.

Very often I've read my column up to the point where it says "Margarita A6" only to go to page A6 and find the rest of a John DeGeorge "Letter to the Editor" or something. I usually try to mention at the end of my column that people can go to my website www.danmargarita.com but of course if the bottom of the column is cut off, people won't see my website www.danmargarita.com listed so they may not think to go to www.danmargarita.com to get the rest of the column.

Most of the time it's a simple oversight. That happens. Everyone makes mistakes. I'm sure you'll spot plenty of mistakes on www.danmargarita.com. But a recent column was cut for both length and content. My column "Friendly Fenway" was cut because it contained some material that the editor found objectionable. I disagree, but it's their paper and their right to leave out what they see fit. You can go to www.danmargarita.com and judge for yourself. It's just that when the work is arbitrarily cut I feel like people reading it aren't getting my full intent in the column and that it makes my work appear sloppy. Not everyone may be aware that they can go online and get the full column on www.danmargarita.com.

I thought I'd mention that early in case the rest of the column gets cut off.

Since readers have been getting the beginnings of columns, I thought I ought to devote entire space to writing the endings of columns. Mind you, these aren't endings to columns that I've actually written, but merely fictional endings that have no beginnings. For the real, unexpurgated endings you can go to: www.danmargarita.com. There you can also sign up to be on my notification list or you an contact me via email.

Here now are some column endings for you:

**********
That's when Ulysses S. Grant discovered that the rumors about President Lincoln were true. Then, in the darkness of the Lincoln bedroom, Grant surrendered to Lincoln quicker than Lee had surrendered to Grant.

**********

Catherine Zeta-Jones declared her love for me in no uncertain terms. She vowed to leave Michael Douglas for me, but I knew I had to do the right thing.

"I cannot be a home-wrecker" I told her.

She wept and gave me one final kiss and we parted forever.

**********

Sneaking into the FBI basement had proved to be a bonanza. There before my eyes lay the prom dress of J. Edgar Hoover.

**********

I never realized that I was afraid of heights 'till then. I sincerely hope that whoever was down below can forgive me.

Maybe someday I'll sit down and write beginnings for these endings. In the meantime, did I mention that you can go to www.danmargarita.com ?

Posted by dmargarita at 10:10 AM

May 9, 2004

Tangled Up In Blue

I'd heard about it, but I hadn't seen it. Until I recently saw it, I couldn't really fathom it. Bob Dylan in a Victoria's Secret ad?

Where do I even begin?

Hey, I'm no Tom Cruise but let's face it; Dylan looks a little out of place here. He looks more like someone who has to register at the local police station every time he comes to town. In real life, if a gorgeous woman in her underwear turns around to find Bob Dylan staring at her, she's more likely to call the authorities.

When Dylan burst on the music scene in 1961 as a young folk singer, he gained an immediate following for his songs that chronicled the troubles of poor, working-class people. It seems now that Dylan wouldn't sing "The Times They are A-Changing" but is more likely to sing "The Supermodels, They are A-Changing."

His classic tale of a poor black maid being beaten to death by a rich white tobacco farm owner who received a six month sentence tugs at hearts in "The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll." This new ad makes me think he'd probably sing "The Lonesome Date of Hottie Carol."

OK, maybe I should leave the song parodies to Weird Al Yankovic.

Then Dylan outraged his fans at the Newport Folk Festival in 1965 when he appeared onstage with an electric guitar and a back-up band. The crowd jeered him called him a "sell out." Little did they realize that 30 years later he could still "sell out" his concerts.

I seem to recall about 10-15 years ago that these people were again outraged when Dylan bought an expensive house, once more crying "sell out." Apparently they assumed that Dylan had spent the previous twenty years by the side of the road with his guitar slung over his shoulder, his belongings in a cloth sack, thumbing for a ride. Hey, the man's worked hard and made a lot of money. Let him enjoy it.

Now comes the Victoria's Secret ads and they've hardly made a peep, which raises three possibilities:

1. They're no longer fans of his and don't care.
2. They've accepted the reality of modern day commercialism.
3. They're all dead.

Still, the sight of an artistic legend commercializing his is art is a little disappointing. It's hard to imagine William Shakespeare popping up in a "Queen Elizabeth's Secret" ad. Well, now that I think about it...

FADE IN:
A heavily corseted women in Elizabethan underwear walks seductively toward the camera. In the background we cut to the aging, craggy face of The Bard of Avon. The voiceover says "Is't possible, friend Licio, that Mistress Bianca
Doth fancy any other but Lucentio?
I tell you, sir, she bears me fair in hand."

Pretty hot stuff, huh?

Perhaps there's not been much outcry over the Dylan spots because the ad is somewhat mild by current standards, considering the amount of commercials there are dealing with male inadequacy.

Have we not all seen the ad for "Enzyte" with the perpetually smiling man, which claims to produce "natural male enhancement?"

It used to be that if you woke up in the middle of the night all you had to worry about was stubbing your toe. Anyway, shouldn't his wife be the one smiling?

I digress.

Perhaps Dylan needs the money and if that's the case, he has every right to make a buck. On the other hand, perhaps Dylan doesn't get the groupies that he once might have.

He might just figure that this is his only chance to see a beautiful woman in her underwear.

Posted by dmargarita at 8:58 PM

May 3, 2004

Friendly Fenway

The weather is getting warmer. The baseball season in underway. The Red Sox are off to a good start. It was time to make my first excursion of the year to Fenway Park. What I didn't realize was that the arms the Red Sox were concerned about weren't the ones in the bullpen.

The initial step in a trip to Fenway is of course, getting there. One can take the subway. The Green Line has long had a stop in Kenmore Square although with the construction of the out-of-place hotel and subway entrance construction, it is probably a nightmare. One can take the Orange Line to Ruggles Station and catch a free shuttle bus to Fenway, but after a recent rash of shootings and stabbings there, one might be hesitant to go that route. Private parking lots in the area are now an outrageous $30, begging the question "Who needs an MBA when all you need is a piece of open land near a ballpark to get rich?" Or one might do what I do...find a secret parking spot if you plan to go to a number of games. Or course I can't reveal the location of that secret parking spot because that would defeat the purpose, hence the term "secret."

Getting into the ballpark itself isn't a heck of a lot easier. Since 9-11 security has increased so that a fan now gets scanned with a metal detector and patted down before entering the ballpark. It's understandable that in the post-9-11era security precautions must be taken, but I can't help but feel that after being patted down, the security guard should at least buy me a drink.

Prior to entering on Yawkey Way, I got the pat-down treatment when the security guard noticed a solid object in my pocket (I'll take the high road here). I pulled out my Swiss Arm knife/key chain and was told that I couldn't bring it into Fenway. I explained that it was gift and that I had no intention of throwing it away and was informed that there was a place that I could check my key chain/knife, which contradicts the stated policy on the Red Sox website that "Fans will NOT be able to store any prohibited items, such as large bags, at Fenway Park."

Not feeling comfortable leaving this cherished gift in the hands of a stranger (not to mention my house and car keys) I simply tucked it in my sock and entered through another gate. Apparently, security personnel at Fenway have dismissed athletic socks as a potential location for contraband. Hopefully, suicide bombers aren't reading this column and getting the idea that if you want to get your vest laced with explosives into Fenway, you merely have to tuck it into your sock.

How serious a threat my Swiss Army knife posed remains a mystery. Besides its knife function it also has a corkscrew. I doubt that anyone has ever made demands while threatening to open a bottle of wine.

"I want $1,000,000 in unmarked bills and a helicopter or I swear, I'll open this bottle of merlot!"

Is there a realistic possibility that I could stab 35,000 people? Perhaps authorities feel that a creative terrorist could hijack the ballpark and fly it into the Prudential Tower.

I feel pretty secure in stating that no one has uttered the phrase "Take this ballpark to Cuba" or for that matter "If this ballpark goes above or below 50 m.p.h., it will explode."

Other rules are clearly stated on the team's website such as "Diaper bags are permissible only when the bearer is accompanied by an infant or child of appropriate age."

So what is an adult with a bladder control problem supposed to do? Depends.

Finally nestled in my seat, I got to watch Curt Schilling pitch a gem for a Red Sox victory. It seemed like only six months ago I was in this beautiful old ballpark. Oh yeah, I was in this beautiful old ballpark six months ago.

After the bullpen brawl with the Yankees last year, perhaps security should focus their scrutiny on the ballplayers themselves.

After all, I saw several of them armed with baseball bats.

Posted by dmargarita at 2:37 PM

April 26, 2004

V-T Day

No one knows just how long the "War on Terror" will last, but it promises to be a lengthy campaign. Like everyone, I long for that day when it comes to an end. I wasn't around for V-E Day or V-J Day and can only imagine what joyous celebrations those must've been. In that spirit, I now present the news report of that as-yet-to-be historic occasion:
TERROR SURRENDERS!

ZURICH (AP)---At 12:30 p.m. local time, Terror formally surrendered in Zurich, Switzerland. Representatives of the U.S. Government and Terror met and signed official documents formally ending the war.

Representing the U.S. was Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Admiral Crunch, while representing Terror were Freddy Krueger, Jason from "Friday the 13th and their Goodwill Ambassador Casper the Friendly Ghost.

The day proved to be a career highlight for Crunch whose inability to rise above the rank of Captain for many years had become an embarrassment to the U.S. Navy.

The U.S. government's victory over Terror should prove to be a big morale boost for the nation, which has suffered through long-running, unsuccessful campaigns against Poverty and Drugs.

People celebrated wildly in the streets of cities and towns all across America. One sailor re-enacted a famous World War II photograph by bending over and kissing a nurse. However, the photo was taken in Boston where the sailor kissed a male nurse whom he later married.

The cease-fire agreement comes after months of negotiations between the United States and Terror. The deal was hung-up largely on Terror's insistence that America be at least a little bit nervous in the future. The Americans steadfastly refused by rolling out their chief negotiators, Faith and Courage.

Security was tight with the Swiss Army heavily equipped with their biggest knives that included corkscrews, bottle openers, scissor, tweezers and toothpicks.

In a spirit of goodwill, the U.S. and Terror discussed cultural exchanges to promote harmony between the two sides. The U.S. will send its ping-pong team and in return Terror will send spine-tingling sensations.

The war began in response to the attacks on September 11, 2001. President George W. Bush declared a "War on Terror" after considering declaring war on Horror, Fear, Pessimism and strangely enough, egg plant. Bush has on occasion incorrectly referred to the conflict as a "War on Terrorism," which was not surprising considering Bush's long-standing "War on Grammar."

Terror, whose slogan "Boo!" has long inspired fear, has given many television interviews, most notably a recent interview on "60 Minutes" with Morley Safer in which Terror said "We shall see the Americans in hell! And we'll get better seats since we've got connections there!"

With the end of the war and the surrender of Terror, there has been much speculation that Terror will be sent to The Hague to stand trial for "Crimes against Humanity."

Terror has reportedly already contacted noted defense attorney Alan Dershcowitz.

Considering the extent of rising global tensions, availability of nuclear weapons and the increasing spread of religious fanaticism, Humanity's Judgment Day might come sooner than expected.

Posted by dmargarita at 6:06 PM

April 19, 2004

Weather or Not

Somebody once said "Everybody talks about the weather, but nobody does anything about it." Of course no one can, but that doesn't stop the people at The Weather Channel from trying.

When it debuted on cable TV some years ago some people laughed at those who would sit and watch nothing but forecasts, but it provided a valuable service for anyone in need of an immediate weather update. Then The Weather Channel went "Hollywood."

In an attempt to perhaps compete with other networks, TWC has added feature stories in a seeming bid to boost ratings. They include such prime-time programming as "Storm Stories" which, as may have guessed, tells stories of people who have survived storms.

One recent episode told the story of a village in Iceland that was hit hard by an avalanche. While my heart goes out to those who suffered through it, I must remind them that little good can happen weather-wise if you choose to live in a place called "ICE-land."

The attempt to make weather so dramatic makes it seem like a bad who-dunnit. I keep waiting for the end where it's revealed that the typhoon did it.

They also recreated the expedition of Ernest Shackleton, whose crew miraculously survived being trapped for two years on an Antarctic expedition that began in 1914. Oddly enough this trip has now become a hot tourist attraction. There is one company that promotes "Shackleton's Footsteps---Antarctic Cruise" which could also be called "Slowly Destroying a Largely Unspoiled Ecosystem by Yuppies." Perhaps these people should recreate the journey of "The Donner Party"---vegetarians need not apply.

If TWC really insist on trying to draw ratings, they could do like a Russian TV channel which has program called (no joke) "The Naked Truth" that features an attractive female newsreader who proceeds to undress while she reads the news. Of course in the U.S., The Weather Channel in a the spirit of equality and political correctness, would have to feature naked men as well. This should be a relatively inexpensive venture considering the amount of money they wouldn't have to spend on clothes or a pointer.

For you weather buffs, you'll be happy to know that TWC has it's own web site. The site has many features including a "tornado alert" that you can sign up for. This seems unnecessary since tornadoes move at a pretty good clip. By the time you log on to your computer for a tornado alert, chances are that your trailer will be blowing high over Kansas.

Another place to go on the site is to TWC store. There's all sorts of items which make the perfect anniversary gift. Nothing says "I love you" more than an hygrometer.

The Weather Channel is not limited to the U.S. For those "across the pond" there is "The Weather Channel U.K." website. I spent a week in the U.K some years ago. Every morning the weather maps showed the same thing---clouds from top to bottom.

The U.S. Weather Channel has many more features than it's British counterpart, including weather reports for baseball games. The Minnesota Twins should be pretty easy to predict since they play in a domed stadium.

The Weather Channel was a unique concept that fills a definite need. They may have forced C-span to match their drama.

Before long we may see "The Nude Congress."

Posted by dmargarita at 2:28 PM

April 12, 2004

Law & Order: Entertainment Intent

It seems that there are basically two types of programs on prime time TV these days: reality shows and "Law & Order."

I've become a big fan of the show and its spin-offs "Law & Order: Special Victims Unit" and "Law & Order: Criminal Intent." Fortunately for us fans, it seems to have replaced "Martha Stewart Living" as a show that you can find somewhere on TV on any given night of the week. They've come up with almost as many variations of the show as "Star Trek."

The original franchise seemed to be a unique concept in TV. The show was neither a cop show nor a courtroom drama, but both. The police would investigate a crime the first half of the show and the District Attorney's office would prosecute it during the second half. A pretty good gig for the actors who get a paid a nice salary to only learn half of a script.

One remarkable aspect of the original show is that it has maintained a loyal following despite numerous cast changes. No one on the current show was a member of the original cast. This is a drastic difference from when John Travolta left "Welcome Back, Kotter" and that show's ratings plummeted. Although if "L & O" had replaced one of its original cast members with a Ted McGinley look-alike as "Kotter" did, perhaps I wouldn't be writing this.

Clearly, the fictional D.A.'s office seems to be in favor of affirmative action. After the initial all-male cast, they've apparently adopted a practice of having at least one gorgeous female Assistant District Attorney at all times, although in reality this is more of a Hollywood version of affirmative action. As a supporter of affirmative action, if I ever get in the position of hiring anyone, I'll consider those same guidelines (kidding).

The problem that "Special Victims Unit" or "S.V.U." presents for me is that I have a hard time mentioning it without someone thinking about a large, gas-guzzling vehicle.

"L & O" has been a practitioner of what is known in TV as "crossover" where characters from one show appear on another show. Several "L & O" members appeared on the former NBC cop show "Homicide: Life on the Street" and vice-versa. They're not the first to do it since long ago Kermit the Frog crossed over from "The Muppets" to "Sesame Street." One can only wonder about the possibilities of stretching the crossover boundaries. How about cast members from "Sesame Street" on "S.V.U." for an episode?

"Now, Miss Piggy...did you get a good look your attacker?"

The courtroom scenes seem to be more realistic than they were once portrayed on TV. The most famous courtroom drama of all time is probably "Perry Mason." Raymond Burr starred as the attorney who always defended genuinely innocent people and never seemed to lose a case. What would Mason do if Pablo Escobar, the head of the notorious Medellin drug cartel wanted to hire Mason to represent him?

The hour-long show had Mason take a case, investigate it and then question several witnesses on the stand until the last few minutes when he would simply badger someone into making a confession while having no proof whatsoever.

One issue I have with "L & O" is that with such a constant need for material, they have a tendency to take recent real-life headlines and turn it into an episode, the Jayson Blair/New York Times plagiarism case being one recent example. Remarkably, they haven't turned Janet Jackson's "wardrobe malfunction" into a murder plot yet. This would make "dusting for prints" a lot more interesting.

"Law & Order" can be either a boon or a stigma for New York City depending on whether you view the series as a depiction of city officials who wage a constant and heroic battle against the criminal element, or as a place where one shouldn't venture for fear of imminently being sexually assaulted or murdered.

As much as I enjoy them, I hope they don't come up with another version of "Law & Order" because it'll leave little time for eating and sleeping.

Posted by dmargarita at 6:35 PM

March 28, 2004

Star Search

It's hard to flip through TV channels these days without seeing a TV show like "Star Search," "American Idol" or some other program where ordinary people are seeking fame and fortune. While not everyone can become a star, everyone can be a star.

You may have seen commercials for Star Registry, which is an organization that will name a star after anyone for a fee. Exactly who or what gives them the right to do that, I don't know.

As for how many stars have been named after people or which stars in particular, I have no idea. One wonders how many lovers spent romantic summer evenings lying on the ground and looking up to gaze at Tucker Fredrickson.

Recently, NASA scientists discovered what they believe to be a new planet. The next logical step in our increasingly commercialized space program is to begin naming planets after people who are willing to pay up. This could make future science fiction films seem a little odd. Perhaps one day we'll see Star Trek's Capt. Picard of the U.S.S. Enterprise standing on the bridge giving an order such as:"Commander Data, set a course for Richard Simmons."

If memory serves me, my science classes in school mentioned something to the effect that we currently reside on the planet Earth (and Mr. Dimmick thought I wasn't paying attention). One thing I don't recall being taught in school was who named this planet Earth and when (Eartha Kitt?).

If we are to get into naming planets for people, I want to claim dibs right now on planet Earth. Calling this planet Dan Margarita would change routine conversation.

"What on Dan Margarita are you talking about?"

Instead of Earth Day, environmentalists would celebrate Dan Margarita Day, a holiday that I've long been lobbying for.

Perhaps the 1970's R&B group Earth, Wind and Fire could become Dan Margarita, Wind and Fire.

While it's not exactly what I had conceived of my fantasy meeting with a certain actress, I wouldn't mind if one day someone winds up saying "They put Catherine Zeta Jones into the ground and covered her with Dan Margarita."

If for some reason I were unable to get this planet named after me, I would want my friends to be eligible to be named for our planet. Maybe parents will someday say to their kids: "You know, if you dig all the way through Rocco Zizza, you'll reach China."

Though it's much more conceivable that future, as of yet discovered planets would have a chance to be named after individuals. I'd get quite a chuckle to pick up a newspaper one morning to read: "Scientists believe that Tom Kelley may have once contained water."

It seems that whoever named our current planets was having a bit of fun. Why else would they choose to name a planet after one of Walt Disney's characters? I'm referring, of course, to Pluto. Then there's Mars, named after a candy bar, and didn't the person who named Uranus know that he would be getting chuckles from sixth graders all over the world?

It seems that Jupiter was named after the Greek God, Zeus. The planet-namer in charge of that was apparently unable to speak Greek.

Let's not forget Neptune, named after...I'll have to get back to you on that one. Last but not least, OK least, are Saturn and Mercury, the car and thermometer planets.

After reading this column I think some amateur astronomers may be looking for signs of intelligent life on Dan Margarita.

Posted by dmargarita at 3:13 PM

March 22, 2004

Cool Hand Martha

Get ready to watch the new Martha Stewart show: "Martha Stewart---Serving."

If you've been living in the United States recently and can read and understand English, then you're aware that TV homemaking icon, Martha Stewart has been convicted on several charges including conspiracy, obstruction of justice and two counts of making false statements. The "domestic diva" could be spending the next several years in an interior decoratively challenged "big house."

Her picture was on the front page of almost every major newspaper in the country with most featuring the same up-close headshot of Stewart. Some papers, especially those of a more tabloid nature, presented the photo in an extreme close-up. The closer the photo, the more nefarious she appeared. I imagine the National Inquirer showed the photo of just her nostrils.

For me, the image of Martha Stewart in prison is a tough one to conceive, though many seem to be gleefully doing just that. Perhaps I can get a better handle on it if I picture Martha starring in what is arguably the greatest prison movie of all-time, "Cool Hand Luke." I do strange things like that.

The film stars Paul Newman as a charismatic, anti-establishment prisoner in the Deep South in the late 1940's, whose spirit cannot be broken by his overseers. Newman's character is sentenced to two years in prison for cutting the heads off of several parking meters while intoxicated. That's two years more than Martha was sentenced to for running into her neighbor's landscaper with her car.

In our film, "Cool Hand Martha" arrives and along with the other new prisoners, is given a list of rules to abide by.

"Any woman turning routine prison items into useful household items spends...a night in 'the box.' Any woman who misspells her calligraphy spends...a night in 'the box.' Any woman not promptly responding to RSVP's spends...a night in 'the box.'"

Ms. Stewart is known for being demanding and I can easily see her leading a prison revolt like in so many classic prison movies. Let's go to the prison cafeteria now where a fed-up (pardon the pun) Martha cajoles her fellow (or whatever the female equivalent of "fellow" is) inmates into banging their tin cups on the table, refusing top go back to their cells unless their steak tips get marinated.

"Hell no. We won't go. Until you cook our steak tips slow."

Like the irrepressible Luke, Martha might continuously try to escape, perhaps tying her cell doilies (what else would she have in her cell?) together to make a rope to climb over the wall.

Should that fail, Martha's next attempt might be while working on a chain gang. After throwing yet another shovel full of gravel onto a hot tar road, Cool Hand Martha would try to isolate herself from the group.

"Pruning flowers here, Boss" states Martha before jumping into a prison vehicle on a flight to freedom.

Of course Martha's proclivity for domestic ingenuity would probably grate on the prison's Strother Martin-like warden, who like in the movie, would eventually explode in anger at Martha.

"Now what we got here...is a failure...to communicate! You turn one milk carton into a planter, you get one set of chains. You turn two milk cartons into planters, you get two sets of chains. You won't need no third set of chains. You turn one more milk carton into a planter, and we gonna kill ya, Martha."

With her clout, support from her family and friends as well as her sheer mettle, Martha Stewart should survive her prison stint in a pretty good mental state.

Of course, if you haven't seen "Cool Hand Luke," this column makes even less sense than usual.

Posted by dmargarita at 3:43 PM

March 15, 2004

Spring Training Daze

Once again as we stand on the precipice of spring, I have found my way to Florida to watch the boys of summer go through their spring training rituals during what is officially still winter. Here are some notes from my trip:

Mar. 7---I fly into Orlando by way of New York. The captain introduces himself and his crew for reasons I cannot fathom.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentleman. This is your captain, Frank Doherty. I want to welcome you aboard American Airlines flight 1640. I'll be joined by my Co-pilot Tom Langton and Navigator Evan Wainright."

I'm tempted to stand up and yell "Oh my God! Not Wainright! You mean they let him fly again?!"

I don't care if Ronald McDonald is flying the plane, if he can land it safely.

I get to the airport and there's some confusion about getting a ride. Namely, where and when. You know, small details like that. I'm ready for some dinner but the only real restaurant is a Chilli's Too. The staff is working hard there, which I gather from not only their fast-paced strolls, but the fact that the place reeks of perspiration. I try to hold my breath through dinner.

Mar. 8---We get up a little late, so there's no time for breakfast. It's a long drive to Ft. Myers to see the Red Sox. We get there in the second inning and the Sox are losing to the Twins 1-0. To add further insult to injury, former Red Sox Jose Offerman blasts a home run over the right field fence. To think, the Red Sox signed him to replace Mo Vaughn's on-base percentage.

Our seats are down the left field line, in the shade which makes it a little cool. Nevertheless, a big cheer arises when they announce that the temperature in Ft. Myers is 75 degrees while in Boston it's 30 degrees and snowing. This makes me feel better since it had been mild the week before I left, when I had been hoping for 5 degree weather to rub into the faces of friends and family.

Thanks to a late inning Twins pitching implosion, the Sox come back to win. There is no night game, so we head for dinner at Nino's, an Italian restaurant of which Sox broadcaster Jerry Remy has often spoken fondly of on telecasts.

Mar. 9---We do get up in time for a delicious Bob Evans breakfast...which causes us to be late for the Pirates game in Bradenton.

We have three extra seats to unload. The first guy I approach is very suspicious. He looks at the tickets and asks why they don't have the Pirates logo on them. I try to explain to him that it's because they came through Ticketmaster, but his suspicion gets the best of him and he passes. The next three guys I meet buy the tickets, which are pretty good seats...not nearly as good as ours, though. We sit a few rows behind the backstop, literally right next to the Pirates coaches who sit on chairs outside of the dugout.

Bill McKechnie Field is an old stadium that has been remodeled but has maintained that old-time stadium feel. The concession workers are retirees, who are very pleasant and are sure to let you know that tips are donated to help crippled children. God, that's nauseating. After years of dealing with surly, uncooperative concession workers at Fenway Park, this politeness is a shock to my system.

Then it's back down to Ft. Myers. A nine-piece choir sings the national anthem. Remarkably, they all manage to be off-key, but in harmony.

Our seats are down the right field line, near the field and like seats similarly located at Fenway Park, you have to crane your head to your left to see the action. Unfortunately, someone further down the row to my left has chosen to lean forward which means that the person next to them has to lean forward to see and the person next to them has to lean forward to see, etc., etc.

There is an open seat to my right, though. I assume I have some extra cushion, so when a foul ball bounces off of the warning track and into the stands over my head, I lunge for the ball. Unfortunately, I don't have as much room as I thought and I sort of land on an older guy to my right.

Mar. 10---We have to get up early for a three hour drive across the state, so there's no time for breakfast. A Dunkin Donuts coffee and donut will have to suffice.

The middle of Florida is quite unlike what most people see of the state. Instead of the Route 1-like strips of highway with gas stations and strip malls that most Disney travelers are familiar with, you pass orange groves and cattle grazing peacefully. On the horizon a few fires burn in the distance. They could be from the occasional brush fires, since the state gets little rain, or they could be intentional fires to clear away brush. You can tell when you're getting near civilization because the radio stations go from religious shows and country music to rock.

Though we have bleacher seats we upgrade to grandstand seats from a guy out front. I look at the tickets which say "complimentary" and when he asks how much I want to pay, I'm tempted to say nothing, since he obviously didn't pay for them. Instead I buy them for $20 which is about what they'd cost.

It's the Red Sox vs. the Cardinals, but the Sox have only brought a couple of regulars for the long trip and early noon time game. It's windy and chilly, but you can feel the sun beating down on you're neck

After the game, while milling about in the souvenir store, I notice a man flipping through clothes on the rack next to me and realize it's St. Patrick's own Father Schmidt. An avid baseball fan, he too has followed his home town team across the state.

For the night game we head to Kissimmee in what proves to be the chilliest night yet. The longest concession line all night is not the beer or food line, but the espresso/cappuccino line.

It was always one of my favorite ballparks because you could usually walk right up and get good seats from the ticket window before the game. They've since refurbished the ballpark, removing the metal bench grandstands and replacing them with comfortable seats with cup holders. They'e also signed Roger Clemens and Andy Pettite, meaning that all factors considered make tickets a little harder to get.

Mar. 11---Reds vs. the Blue Jays at Dunedin. Great seats on the third base side in the sun. A good day to get some color, but I'e loaded up on sun block. Not much color, but it means I won't agonize in the shower tomorrow.

For the night game we head to Tampa to see the Yankees take on the Tigers, who were the worst team in baseball last season. Still, when it involves the Yankees you've got to try to get tickets ahead of time. We have three, but we manage to scrounge a fourth.

Mar. 12---I' just about to get into the shower when I hear a knock on my motel room door. I ask "Who is it?" and get a response of "I need to talk to you" from a woman on the other side of the door. Clad in a towel, I open the door and the woman says her name is Delores. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I just wanted to let you know that you're staying in a toxic room." She goes on to explain that the mold spots on the wall are more than just an aesthetic nuisance.

"We stayed in here last night my son got really sick because of the mold. I'm a nurse and I had to use his nebulizer all night so that he could breathe. They shouldn't be renting this room out. You need to get out of here right NOW!"

Well, I'm not about leave without my shower, but I manage to switch rooms without having to resort to the threats I was prepared to make if they give me a hard time.

A new experience for all of us in the Phillies new ballpark in Clearwater. It's the first beautiful day, the kind I'd expected in Florida. The ballpark set up is a great situation with all possible conveniences for fans. There's a "moonwalk" bouncing thing for the little kids. In left field, a thatched roof, full-fledged bar. There's a grassy hill that goes around the outfield for people to spread out blankets to relax on. You can stand behind left field and watch minor leaguers practice on adjacent fields. After the game, a live band plays music by the bar for two hours.

The only downside is that they follow the unfortunate trend of a constant noise barrage during the game. Every time a foul ball is hit out of play, the sound of glass breaking, a "boing" or some other wacky sound effect is blasted through the stadium. It's like reading a script from the "Batman" TV show. Between innings, when someone's not ready to pitch or hit, some music HAS to played.

There is only one Friday night game. It involves the Astros in Yankees in Tampa. As previously mentioned, the Yankees are always a tough ticket, but with the Astros signing Pettite and Clemens and it being a Friday night game, the only night game at that, this has long been sold out. We thought we had tickets coming in the mail before the trip, but one of our party was stiffed for $100.

We get there early, about 5:30 for a 7:00 game. There's already a long line at the ticket window for the late released tickets, and someone from the Yankees announces that there'll only be 70 tickets available. A quick glance at the line in front of us tells us that there are more than 70 people ahead of us. Sure enough, they sell out long before our place in line. The ticket scramble is on.

When I first began the sojourns down south, one could almost always walk up and get tickets at the window. On rare occasions when a game was sold out, you could usually find someone looking to get rid of extra tickets. Now professional scalpers roam the grounds and ask outrageous prices.

One guy offers me a $20 box seat for $50. I'm not willing to pay a lot more over cost for a meaningless exhibition game. Two scalpers get into a fight in the parking lot when they approach someone looking to get rid of extra tickets. Our patience pays off as we all manage to find folks with an extra ticket around face value.

As a result we are all sitting apart, and being a Red Sox fan in a Yankee crowd, I feel like Winston Churchill at a Hitler Nuremberg rally.

Mar. 13---My last game finds me at Dunedin to watch the Sox play the Blue Jays. Again, the Sox brought few regulars. We have good seats behind home plate which turn out to be just below Sox broadcasters Jerry Remy and Sean McDonough, who sign autographs after the game for some of the many Sox fans in attendance.

After the game ends, I sit and enjoy the sunshine and warmth and realize that it will be months before I get to sit at a ballpark in a T-shirt again.

Mar. 14---The flight home is bumpy but not as depressing as realizing that I started the day in a short sleeve shirt and am ending it bundled up in a sweatshirt and jacket.

Back to reality.

Posted by dmargarita at 4:28 PM

March 1, 2004

Holy Jesus!

We all need a little spiritual uplift every now and then, and so I went to see the controversial new Mel Gibson film "The Passion of the Christ." This is one movie to which I don't have to worry about giving away the ending.

As has been well documented, the film is a bloody portrayal of the last hours of Jesus. The Romans continuously beat him and many of them seem to take great delight in their work. With the exception of some flashback scenes, the only time Jesus isn't being beaten is when he's about to be beaten.

No film has been noted for it's gore this much since "Saving Private Ryan," which reportedly features 20 minutes of non-stop bloodshed at the beginning of the film. Never did a Tom Hanks movie so desperately need Meg Ryan to pop up and turn it into a cute, romantic comedy ("Saving Meg Ryan?").

For all of its bloodshed, this movie could've easily been titled "Saving Private Jesus," "Nightmare on Burning Bush Street" or "Good Friday the 13th."

Those offended by the bloodshed in "Ryan" missed the point, as well as the one that Gibson also seems to be trying to make, in my opinion. Like war, we've wanted our religion comfy and palatable, but the two films let us know what the true brutality was. If you're offended by special effects, you ought to be outraged by the real thing.

Most of the beatings take place in slow-motion, to the point where I was waiting for the voice of the late John Facenda, whose slow, deep-voiced narration of NFL Films gave them such a dramatic flair.

"It was on the barren plains of Jerusalem that a savior was born who would his lead his people into the kingdom of Heaven." I half expected John Madden to start diagramming things with his telestrater.

Gibson took a big gamble and had the dialogue spoken in Latin and Aramaic, the languages of the time and place. Fortunately, he gave in to the studio pressure and added English subtitles so the audience didn't think the people on screen were running around writing prescriptions.

To my great relief the movie was presented without coming attractions and previews. It would've seemed tacky to go into a bloody tale of The Crucifixion after watching a dancing hot dog singing "Let's all go to the lobby."

The story begins with our hero being captured by the Romans and brought before Pontius Pilate, who is played as a reluctant Roman governor. The village leaders tell Pilate that Jesus is a blasphemer who should be put to death. Pilate wants little to do with the matter and tries to avoid making a decision by saying that King Herrod must decide Jesus' fate. Herrod, who seems like an ancient Rip Taylor, sends Jesus back to Pilate. Under pressure from the crowd, Pilate, after some more beatings of Jesus, caves in and sentences Jesus to crucifixion.

Jesus is beaten, given a crown of thorns, beaten, and forced to carry his cross (while being beaten), whereupon a man, who is appalled at the treatment of Jesus, is forced to help him carry the cross. Along the way many citizens jeer Jesus, while others are startled upon seeing him. Why nobody said "Jesus Christ!" upon first seeing the bloodied Jesus is beyond me. It wouldn't have been taking the lord's name in vain, merely startled recognition of a neighbor.

Of course Jesus is crucified and then rises from the dead (hope I didn't spoil it for you).

There has been much talk that the movie is anti-semetic due to the Jews demanding Jesus' death, but not all the Jews were seeking his death as not all of the Romans were bloodthirsty savages.

Between beatings, the words of Jesus are lovingly presented and on the whole I would have to give this movie a (bloody) thumbs up.

But, as is usually the case, the book was better.

Posted by dmargarita at 4:35 PM

February 26, 2004

STAGE OF DREAMS (A COMEDY SKETCH)

The following is a comedy sketch written for The Sketch Society, should we ever perform again.

(LIGHTS UP: Dan wanders onstage)

Dan
Wow. The Comedy Studio. God, we haven't done a Sketch Society show in ages. (Begins straightening up)

(WE HEAR A VOICE OVER THE P.A. SYSTEM)
Voice # 1
If you book it, he will come.

Dan
What?

Voice # 1
If you book it, he will come.

Dan
Huh?

Voice #1
Are you deaf?

Dan
I heard you. I just don't know what you mean by "If you book it, he will come."

Voice #1
You figure it out. I've got other things to do.

Dan
You're just gonna leave me hanging?

Voice #1
Look, I've got to go haunt a fisherman in Maine. Bye.
(DAN RESUMES STRAIGHTENING UP FOR THREE BEATS)

Voice #1
I've seen you naked.

Dan
What!?

Voice #1
(CHUCKLING) I'm just screwing with you.

(JIM ENTERS)

Dan
Jim! How are you?

Jim
Great. What are you doing here?

Dan
We haven't done a Sketch Society show for so long. I just thought I'd come by and take a look at the old place.

Jim
Me too.

Dan
What ever happened to that guy in the group, Rich?

Jim
Last I heard, he had a full beard and six inch toenails.

Dan
Let me ask you something. This might sound a little crazy. Do you ever hear voices?

Jim
Of course, doesn't everyone?

Dan
What do these voices say?

Jim
They usually tell me to do things like buy a loaf of bread, kill Bob Barker, clean the house, kill Bob Barker, pay the bills, kill Bob Barker.

Dan
Do you ever do what these voices tell you to do?

Jim
No Dan, that would be crazy. I buy bread when I need it, not because some voice told me to.

Dan
Well, I'm glad it's not just me. (THEY AD LIB CONVERSATION)

Voice #2
Kill Bob Barker! Kill Bob Barker!

Jim
Uh...I just remembered something I've got to do. I'll see you. (HE EXITS. ALISON ENTERS, EXCHANGES GREETINGS WITH DAN)

Alison
I just came by to see the old place. We haven't done a Sketch Society show in so long.

Dan
Say, did you ever hear whatever happened to that guy in the group, Rich?

Alison
Last I heard, he had a full beard and six inch toenails.

Dan
Let me ask you a question. Do you ever hear voices?

Alison
Of course. All the time.

Dan
What do these voices say?

Alison
Well, I really don't want to say...

Voice #3
Wax your bikini zone! Wax your bikini zone!

Alison
Listen Dan, I've got to go.

(STEVE ENTERS)

Dan
Steve! How are you ?

Steve
Great. I just came by to look at the old place. We haven't done a Sketch Society in ages.

Dan
I heard a rumor about Rich...

Steve
Which one? The one about his beard and toenails, or the one that he was killed in Viet Nam?

Dan
Beard and toenails. Let me ask you...this might sound a little crazy, but do you ever hear voices?

Steve
Whoa! Voices? That sounds a little "cuckoo-cuckoo." (BEGINS SCHIZOPHRENIC DIALOGUE WITH HIMSELF) You do too! Shut up! Don't listen to him, Dan! Don't listen to me? Don't listen to him!

Dan
I heard a voice a little earlier. It said "If you book it, he will come." What do you think that means?

Steve
I think it means if you book a show, someone will come; but who?

Dan
You know, I've had Rich on my mind a lot lately. Maybe it means him.

Steve
Could be! Let's book a show!

Dan
The others just left. You can probably catch up to them. I'll start setting up the place. (STEVE EXITS. DAN BEGINS SETTING UP THE STAGE. RICH ENTERS) Rich! Rich!

Rich
Hi Dan.

Dan
You look great. I heard a rumor that you had a full beard and six inch toenails.

Rich
I never had a beard!

Dan
This is amazing. We booked a show hoping that you would show up, and sure enough it worked. Now if we can just get an audience.

Rich
People will come.

Dan
What?

Rich
People will come. They'll remember a time when the Sketch Society made them laugh. They'll remember the inexpensive cover charge. Hopefully they'll forget about me and Hurley bombing in the "X-Files" sketch. But people will come.

Dan
(SEEING AUDIENCE) Where'd all these people come from?

Rich
Well, I didn't say there'd be many people.

Dan
I guess the show is on. So what have you been doing with yourself, anyway?

Rich
Pretty much just sitting in my room watching CNN and making pipe bombs.

Dan
Anything interesting in the news?

Rich
Yeah. Some whacko keeps trying to kill Bob Barker.

Posted by dmargarita at 9:32 PM

February 22, 2004

Just Thinking...

I've decided that it's time for a career change. The way that I'd like to make my living from now on is to work for a "think tank."

These are groups that are either nonpartisan or partisan organizations researching and advocating public policy. Though they are non -profit, the people working for them surely must get paid. They have overhead, so somebody has to be making money, right? So why not me?

If I'm going to think, I might as well get paid for it. Sure, I might do some thinking on my own time, but I would save my best thinking for the job. Historically, thinking has not been a highly paid profession. All but a selective few have ever garnered more than a penny for their thoughts.

This brainstorm (pardon the pun) came to me as I realized that I've been thinking for most of my life, and if I can get paid for it, all the better. I don't recall what my first thought was, but it was probably something in the nature of "I just wet my diaper." Naturally, I don't expect anyone to pay me for that one.

Of course, there are times when we all do something extraordinarily stupid. This when we ask ourselves "What was I thinking?" The answer is that you weren't thinking, and this is how amateur thinkers get into trouble.

No one knows when humans first began thinking or what the first thought was, although "My relatives are much hairier than me" might have been up there, as well as "This saber-toothed tiger's catching up to me."

We know that thinking goes at least as far back the 19th Century French as evidenced by Auguste Rodin's famed statue "The Thinker." The sculpture features a naked man sitting on a stone or tree stump (which could cause a serious splinter problem) with his right elbow on his right leg leading to his chin resting on his hand. It's possible that the French, who invented nudity, did their much of their thinking in the nude.

I wanted to give this method a shot, so there I sat in a state of complete undress, attempting to think thoughts that might change the course of history. However, all I could come up with were "It's chilly in here," "When do the thoughts start happening?" and "What if mall security comes by?"

Man has often tried to find ways to augment his thinking ability. In the late '60's counter-culture, many young people experimented with mind-altering chemicals to enhance the thinking process. While some found a creative benefit (see: The Beatles, Sgt. Pepper album), others experienced frightening thoughts like "My toaster's trying to kill me."

Some people claim to have ESP, or "extra sensory perception" that gives them the ability to read other people's thoughts. This would seem to be a waste of ability if those with ESP only apply their talent to such trivial things as "You're thinking of the number seven." If such ability exists, it seems like it could be put to more productive use. They should station these people at airport security to see if anyone is thinking "I hope security doesn't check for the knife in my belt."

Of course, sometimes people's thoughts are quite obvious. The stripper giving the lap-dance to the drunken construction worker can probably guess what he is thinking.

It seems like it might be hard to find an opening, though. The "help wanted" section doesn't seem to have any "Thinkers wanted" ads.

With the outsourcing of American jobs and our increased reliance on technology to do things for us, thinking might one day become the only profession available.

At least, that's what I think.

Posted by dmargarita at 5:39 PM

February 8, 2004

The Love Doctor

Once again we approach another Valentine's Day and no doubt couples will be spending romantic days and nights this weekend telling their partner just how much they love them. The rest of the year they may spend much of their time telling their partner to go love them self.

That's for those involved with someone, however. Judging by the amount of commercials and email spam I get for various dating services, you'd think that no one on the planet is involved in a relationship. People spend millions of dollars every year on dating services and self-help books and tapes in an effort to find the right someone, or just someone. The big question is: how can I cash in on this?

Not being remotely qualified to give romantic advice (or auto maintenance advice, for that matter), I have decided that it's best to contact Margaritaville's own therapist Dr. I.M. Solo, "The Love Doctor" to see if he can answer the questions that many of you have. It should be noted that Dr. Solo has been divorced three times and his medical degree is as a veterinarian. Dr. Solo has written several self-help books including "I'm OK, You're Nuts," "The Sociopath's Guide to Success" and "Lover or Stalker?"

Dear Dr.,
My boyfriend "Arthur" and I have been dating for 15 years. I'm starting to wonder if this is going anywhere. What do you think?
JANE
As my fellow advice columnist Dear Abby would say "Wake up and smell the coffee!" In England she would say "Wake up and smell the tea!" In Russia she would say "Wake up and smell the vodka!" You get the point. Actually, you don't and that's the problem. Do you need to watch Arthur wheeled out on a stretcher with a sheet over his head to realize when it's over? It's time to throw Arthur and his X Box out the door, but first make sure he has a pulse.

Dear Dr.,
My wife is insatiable in the bedroom. She wants to make love constantly. What should I do?
JAKE
Thank your lucky stars.

Dear Dr.,
I have trouble talking to women. I can't look them in the eye when I talk to them. I stammer, sweat profusely and make strange noises. I have my hobbies. In the summer I like to kill ants with boiling water. In the winter I like to make false pledges to charities. Sometimes when I'm in my room I like to have conversations with imaginary people. What do you recommend?
LEONARD
A change of location might do you good. I suggest Southern California. You're more inclined to find someone you have things in common with there. More importantly, it's 3000 miles away from where I live.

Dear Dr.,
My wife of seven years had decided that to spice up our love life we should try some kinky things. I'm not sure if I'm ready for this. What should I do?
QUINCY
Send her over to my house.

Dear Dr.,
I'm a single, professional male. OK, I'm actually a career criminal. Between the breaking and entering, larceny, fraud and swindling, I don't have much time to meet women. Can I ever find a "soul mate?"
RUSSELL
Since Ma Barker and Bonnie Parker are both dead, probably not. You do stand a good chance of ending up with a "cell mate."

Hopefully this has been of some help to those of you in similar situations, but I doubt it. For those of you blissfully in love, enjoy this weekend. For those of you still searching, there's always hope.

Happy Valentine's Day.

Posted by dmargarita at 7:38 PM

January 20, 2004

Field of Dreams

In the movie "Field of Dreams" the catch phrase used is "Is this Heaven?" with the reply being "No, it's Iowa." After much anticipation, the "Field of Candidates" has weathered the Iowa caucuses. Let's see whose dreams were realized, and whose were shattered.

No doubt that you've heard by now that our own Bay State Senator John Kerry came in first place. This came as a surprise to many, especially Kerry, whose degree in Personality was earned from the "Mike Dukakis School of Wit and Charm." Kerry continues to attack the Bush Administration for the Iraq War, which Kerry had voted in favor of. Kerry either lacked the guts or the foresight to vote against the war, both of which are disturbing possibilities for a presidential contender. Like so many Democrats, he was likely in fear of being called unpatriotic by the Republicans, which they made a point of doing to anybody who disagreed with them. Sadly, this also included Max Cleland, a Vietnam vet who lost three limbs in that conflict and was pictured alongside Osama bin Laden and Saddam Hussein in an opponent's campaign ad. When popular sentiment began going against the war (at least with Democrats), Kerry began his opposition to the war. In my Webster's Ninth Collegiate Dictionary, the word "opposition" is on the same page as "opportunism."

In second place came Senator John Edwards of North Carolina with 32 percent of the vote. Edwards toughest task will be proving that just because he's a lawyer it doesn't make him a bad guy, since many people in this country hate lawyers. Edwards is fifty years old, but looks like he's in high school which may pose an additional problem. A pumped up Edwards took the stage late last night and gave a rousing speech, sounding like a confident football coach firing up the troops.

Of course, there's a difference between pumping up the troops and sounding like a madman, which is what Howard Dean wound up doing. Seemingly a shoo-in a few weeks ago, the former Vermont governor finished a surprising and distant third with just 18 percent of the vote. Then, with perhaps a full moon in the sky, in an attempt to rally his supporters, Dean launched into a tirade that was punctuated with a blood-curdling scream, reminiscent of Dracula's insane sidekick Renfield. I half expected Dean to start catching flies and eating them. Though Dean likely scared off a lot of potential supporters with that performance, he may have done wonders to support mental health groups.

It was sad to watch Dean's mental breakdown on national TV, but it was even more sad to watch Dick Gephardt's presidential ambitions fade. By all accounts, Gephardt is an honest and decent man, meaning there's absolutely no place for him in Washington, D.C. The last honest and decent man we elected president was Jimmy Carter. We all know how that turned out. Before I get flack from Reagan supporters, let's remember that he and his successor, George H.W. Bush were neck-deep in the Iran-Contra scandal. I don't even need to detail Bill Clinton's peccadilloes.

Gephardt's situation points out a big problem with our election system. The states that have the first caucuses and primaries get to determine who our candidates are before much of the country has a say. There are 49 more states yet to cast a ballot, but after a poor showing in one he's done? For Gephardt it's like coming up to home plate, taking a strike and being called out.

As bad as Gephardt must have felt, he still did better than Dennis Kucinich. The Democratic Representative from Ohio managed just 1 percent of the vote. Kucinich thanked his voter (personally) before moving on to New Hampshire.

Kucinich's 1 percent was twice the amount that the Rev. Al Sharpton got. Unfortunately for Sharpton, the first two voting events take place in Iowa and New Hampshire, two of the whitest states in the union. When Sharpton and Carol Moseley-Braun entered Iowa, they virtually doubled its minority population. Sharpton can take consolation in the fact that he finished a strong second in the Washington, D.C. primary. Well, he could if that primary counted.

Moseley-Braun dropped out of the race one day after appearing on "The Daily Show" on Comedy Central where she explained why she'd win in Iowa. The few times she got any media coverage she seemed to answer questions directly and make sense. We'll have none of that.

So now it's on to New Hampshire where our neighbors to the north will have the next shot at determining our future.

"Is this political hell?"

"No, it's New Hampshire."

Posted by dmargarita at 1:29 PM

January 19, 2004

The Road to Fame

Congratulations to Stoneham's Nancy Kerrigan for being elected into the U.S. Figure Skating Hall of Fame. That's one more Hall of Fame than I've ever been or ever will be elected to. So many others have found it much easier to be elected to The Hall of Shame.

Kerrigan was inducted for her stellar skating career which included two Olympic medals, a bronze and a silver (though she deserved a gold on that one) and not for the bizarre circumstance of being clubbed in the knee by agents of her archrival Tonya Harding. However, that incident did get Ms. Harding & Co. a first ballot ticket to the Hall of Shame. The kind of bust that they received was not one you'd put on your mantle.

The incident did give Ms. Kerrigan a higher profile than she might normally would have achieved otherwise, as evidenced by her guest hosting of Saturday Night Live, a feat not attained by such Olympic gold medallists as Kristi Yamaguchi and Sarah Hughes. Actor John Goodman has hosted the show twelve times, leaving me to wonder just how many times he was clubbed in the knee.

Upon hosting SNL, Ms. Kerrigan became the first Stonehamite ever to do so, an honor which, I admit, I thought I might achieve someday when I first began doing stand up comedy. The closest I ever came was working on a Saturday night.

I decided to get into comedy when I saw Eddie Murphy doing stand up on TV and thought "This kid's my age making that kind of money? I can do that." Obviously, while our ages have paralleled, our careers took very different trajectories. It seems that to achieve his level of success involves a certain amount of drive and talent, two qualities that I apparently didn't possess a sufficient quantity of.

Americans are obsessed with fame. People are all too willing to go on TV and degrade themselves for a chance in the spotlight. You can't turn on the tube without witnessing someone willing to marry a stranger who is a millionaire, marry a stranger who isn't really millionaire or see someone who is willing to eat bugs.

Some people have found other ways to achieve fame. Here are some other paths to celebrity:

1. Sleep with someone famous---The most fun route to unwarranted fame, this worked for White House intern Monica Lewinsky. She may be able to type 90 words a minute, but that's not what made her a celebrity. Her one discernable skill that made her famous isn't really transferable to another job. I doubt she's put that in her resume. Carlos Leon went from a fitness trainer to "The guy who fathered Madonna's baby." Unknown fitness trainers don't find themselves on the cover of "People."

2. Cause an international incident---In 1987 a 19-year-old named Mathias Rust shocked the world by flying a Cessna plane undetected from his native Germany into Russia, landing in Red Square, no less. A year later on a trip to Russia, I considered causing an international incident as well. When I was pulled into a small room and frisked by soldiers and saw holstered pistols lying on a table, I thought better of it. Might've gotten me a Tonight Show gig, though (when I eventually got out).

3. Shoot a celebrity---Would anyone remember John Wilkes Booth for his stellar rendition of Hamlet? I doubt it. More recently, John Hinckley and Mark David Chapman gained notoriety (and infamy) in this manner. While Chapman remains locked up, Hinckley has recently been given permission to take unsupervised overnight trips. Let's hope he doesn't decide to become a Big Brother.

4. Be the progeny of a celebrity---This is a road to fame that no one has any say in. Lisa Marie Presley, Julian Lennon and Jack Osbourne all were born into famous families. Lisa Marie also had the bright idea to marry Michael Jackson. Your own fault on that one, Lis.

Most of us aren't willing to humiliate ourselves to become famous. As for me, I'll just continue to live "The Simple Life."

Posted by dmargarita at 6:33 PM

January 12, 2004

My Favorite Martian

The space race is on...again.

Several news outlets have reported that President Bush will propose that the focus of future space missions will be a manned space flight to the moon, an event that's never been accomplished...since the last time it was accomplished.

The reports follow the jubilation of the successful landing of NASA's rover Spirit on Mars last week. Video footage showed euphoric NASA employees hugging and popping champagne corks as they gleefully celebrated a feat that they first achieved in 1976.

One news anchor actually said that "the photos transmitted back from the red planet show that the planet is really red." Perhaps that might have been news 400 years ago when Galileo was calling Mars "the red planet" as he looked at it through his telescope.

Not everyone has been that successful with their Mars missions lately. The British found their hopes dashed when they lost contact with their space probe "Beagle 2" after it landed on Mars. If ever a machine could've failed due to a poor self-image, it was that one. At least NASA has had the good sense to give adventurous sounding names to its probes such as "Viking," "Pathfinder" and "Spirit." I imagine that "Beagle 2" simply shut down out of embarrassment. If they were going to name it after a dog, there were plenty of breeds that would've have better represented the mission. They could've named it "Retriever," "Bloodhound" or "St. Bernard" which is best known for carrying small kegs of rum to avalanche-stranded skiers.

I haven't been able to find out what happened to Beagle 1. Perhaps someone at the British space center left the door open and it ran away.

Scientists believe that water once flowed on Mars and are anxious to see if any form of life ever existed there. Experts seem reasonably certain that the creatures that have constantly tried to take over the earth in science fiction movies probably don't exist. If they do, they might not want to come here if they've seen our movies where the earth-bound humans repeatedly outwit and defeat creatures capable of inter-planetary travel. For over a hundred years Martians have been portrayed in books and movies as little green men, conquerors of our planet and even a loveable guest on the TV show "My Favorite Martian." The one creature I do hope they find is the Looney Tunes character Marvin Martian, best known for his phrase "You earthlings make me very angry."

If there are any life forms on Mars, scientists believe it will be microbial. In 1996 NASA scientists announced that they discovered compounds on a meteorite from Mars that had landed in Antarctica and contained evidence of life on Mars. Insert your own Dan Quayle joke here. This claim was later dismissed and like Dan Quayle, has drifted off into obscurity.

It's calming to know that NASA has set its sights on reasonable goals. If you were able to land a man on the moon in 1972, you should be able to do it with today's technology.

After the tragic loss of the space shuttle Columbia, it's understandable that NASA would want to proceed cautiously with its program. I think that NASA should continue playing it safe by duplicating past achievements. For instance, it might only cost $1 billion to build a plane that can fly solo across the Atlantic.

In fairness, President Bush is also expected to announce plans to send a manned (or womanned) spacecraft to Mars, which would represent a bold step in space exploration.

Don't get me wrong---I'm all for space exploration. If man had ceased to be scientifically curious, we'd still be living in caves.

It's just that there's a lot of problems here on earth that need to be addressed that the billions spent on duplicating previous feats could possibly solve.

Call me when we get to Mars. I'll be in my cave.

Posted by dmargarita at 7:04 AM

January 5, 2004

Soylent Cows

To paraphrase a line from the movie "Airplane," as spoken by veteran actor Lloyd Bridges' character, "It looks like I picked a bad week to resume eating beef."

I was never a fan of beef. Perhaps it's a result of the tough steaks that my mother served me as a child, or just because I simply wasn't crazy about the taste. So, whenever I saw people drool over the prospect of having steak for dinner, I never got what all the fuss was about. I was strictly a pizza man (and boy).

That's not to say that I'm a vegetarian. What would Thanksgiving be without stuffing yourself with turkey and watching football? I've had my share of ballpark franks---until I found out what was in them. Trust me, you don't want to know.

Sometime in the early '90's I visited some friends in the U.K. when we decided to eat at an "American" style restaurant. It wasn't exactly American style because it never occurred to the waitress to ask me how I wanted my food cooked and I wasn't expected to leave a tip, but that's beside the point. Though never much of a meat-eater, I ordered a cheeseburger with instructions to cook it "medium-well," although it later dawned on me that if they're not used to cooking food to order, they probably had no idea what "medium-well" meant.

A short time after arriving home, news reports began circulating about a condition in the U.K. known as "mad cow disease," a disorder that eats away cows brains leaving them dizzy and stumbling before dying. Video footage of staggering, stumbling cows might be funny on "America's Funniest Home Videos" but as news footage of a dying cow, it was horrifying. It seems that several humans consuming beef of infected cows had contracted the disease and had died. The British government announced that anyone who had spent six months in the U.K. was at risk. I couldn't have gone to Hawaii instead?

While only having one cheeseburger in my one week vacation didn't likely pose any great threat, it did make me a little nervous. As the years went by new concerns about beef sprung up, in particular, a bacteria known as "E. coli" was causing people to get sick and in some cases die. Unlike mad cow, E. coli, though not strictly limited to beef, could be killed if the meat was cooked well enough. Then I heard that cattle were being given steroids to increase their size. The last thing we need are cows with a mustache. Do you still wonder why I gave up eating beef?

Here's how mad cow seems to have come about. In the 1980's farmers began changing the feed that they gave cattle. Cattle, which are herbivores, began getting feed that had ground up sheep and (infected) cattle parts. Yes, these cows began eating other cows, so in essence, not only have we turned them into carnivores, we've also turned them into cannibals. Remember, we locked up Jeffrey Dahmer for doing the same thing.

It seems unnatural and as is often the case with unnatural things, there's an unhealthy consequence. For instance, there's a reason that siblings aren't allowed to marry.

Of course these cattle aren't aware that they're eating their own kind, which was the plot of the 1973 sci-fi film "Soylent Green." Set in a future where overpopulation is causing widespread hunger, the government gives people these Soylent Green cookies which turn out to be made of humans.

How would you feel if you found out that when you went out to eat Chinese you were actually eating Chinese?

"Pass the waiter, please."

Recently I joined some friends for lunch at a certain steak house best known for its plastic cows stationed on the front lawn. All of the cows seem to be standing upright, so I don't think that they were infected. I stunned my friends when I ordered a cheeseburger, since nothing else on the menu there has ever tasted that great to me.

Sure enough, about a week later on December 23, it was announced that a cow had been discovered in Washington State that was diagnosed with mad cow disease. Merry Christmas! Unfortunately, the disease can lay dormant for 10-15 years before showing symptoms.

So, if in five years you see me banging my head against a wall for no apparent (Red Sox related) reason, you'll know why.

Posted by dmargarita at 2:12 PM

December 29, 2003

2003: The Year in Review

Once again we come to the conclusion of another year. This seems to happen every December. So it's time once again for my annual "Year in Review" which I do every year, hence the word "annual" (as is that joke).

Jan. 6---Dolly the sheep, the world's first cloned mammal dies at age six, half the life expectancy for her species. Scientists are disappointed and admit that they feel "pretty baaaaaaad."

Jan. 25---Scientist Professor Fiona Stanley from Western Australia is named Australian of the Year. That's actually a big story in Australia.

Feb. 27---Beloved children's entertainer Fred Rogers dies at age 74, making it a lousy day in the neighborhood. Rogers is later stunned when a clerical error in Heaven finds him in hell being stabbed in the ass with a pitchfork.

Mar. 20---The U.S. begins its war on Iraq with a "decapitation strike" designed to kill Iraqi leader Saddam Hussein. The strike kills one person who is not Hussein and is not decapitated.

Apr. 1---Pfc. Jessica Lynch is rescued from captivity by U.S. Special Forces. The rescue is captured on videotape and declared the best TV "reality show" of the year. Forces arriving on the scene tell Lynch that she's been "punk'd."

Jul. 22---Uday and Qusay Hussein are killed by U.S. troops in the northern city of Mosul. Israeli Prime Minister Ariel Sharon says he's pleased to hear that Uday and Qusay are "Mosul-t'offed."

May 1---President Bush announces the end of "major combat" in Iraq. Bush then orders Major Combat to return to the U.S. The rest of the year continues with "minor combat."

Jun. 26---Just months after retiring, Senator Strom Thurmond dies at age 100. Before becoming America's longest serving senator ever, Thurmond served as Governor of South Carolina and Dixiecrat presidential candidate in 1948 when he fought to keep blacks off the voting rolls and out of white public schools. "Next thing you know, they're gonna want to play basketball" he declares. Later in the year, a 78-year-old black woman named Essie Mae Washington-Williams announces that she is Thurmond's daughter, the product of a tryst between a then 22-year-old Thurmond and his family's 16-year-old black maid. Thurmond's family tries to put a good spin on it by stating that it proves that Thurmond wasn't against all forms of integration.

Jul. 27---Legendary comedian Bob Hope dies from pneumonia shortly after his 100th birthday. Doctors speculate that Hope caught pneumonia while trying to blow out all the candles on his cake.

Aug. 15---Much of the northeastern U.S. and parts of Canada are plunged into darkness when a massive power failure strikes. This is bizarre because the blackout hit at 4 p.m. and it doesn't usually get dark until 7:30.

Sept. 12---Country music legend Johnny Cash, "The Man in Black" dies at age 71. Relatives raid his closet for clothes to wear to the funeral.

October 8: Action star turned politician Arnold Schwarzenegger claims victory in his election bid to oust and replace California's governor Gray Davis. Schwarzenegger also claims that "The Terminator" can kick Superman's ass.

October 15: China launches its first manned space flight. An hour later the Chinese feel like sending up another spacecraft.

Nov. 11---Pornography king Larry Flynt announces that he has nude photos of Pfc. Jessica Lynch in his possession, but won't publish them. The photos purportedly show Lynch frolicking with other soldiers, doing "more before 9 a.m. than most people do all day."

Nov. 30---Swimmer Gertrude Ederle dies at 98. In 1926 Ms. Ederle became the first woman to swim the English Channel, proving that women were just as capable of doing stupid things as men.

Dec. 13---Appearing bearded and unkempt, former Iraqi dictator Saddam Hussein is captured. He is found hiding in a hole in the ground that is described by U.S. authorities as a "rat hole." Several rats take offense with one noting "Hey, even I wouldn't be caught dead in that place."

Dec. 19---Singer Michael Jackson is arrested and charged with seven felony counts of molesting a child and two felony counts of plying the same child with an "intoxicating agent." Jackson's intoxicating agent denies any involvement. Five of the molestation charges allege that Jackson committed a "lewd and lascivious act upon and with the body and certain parts" of the boy. Ironically, that phrase also describes Jackson's performance during halftime at Super Bowl XXVII.

Dec. 20---After many years and billions of dollars, Boston's "Big Dig" tunnel opens up. Now Bostonians will be stuck in traffic jams underground.

There you have it. A year to remember except for the parts that you'd like to forget. Have a happy, safe, prosperous and peaceful New Year.

Posted by dmargarita at 11:44 AM

December 22, 2003

The Wright Stuff

If you're planning on flying anywhere for the Christmas holiday this year, there's two people in particular you owe a debt of gratitude to. No, I don't mean the luggage screeners who assume that the hair dryer in your carry-on luggage is not an automatic weapon, but to Orville and Wilbur Wright.

You're probably well aware by now that last week marked the 100th anniversary of their historic flight in Kitty Hawk, North Carolina. The event was re-created at the same location last week where enthusiastic crowds gathered to watch a replica Wright Flyer taxi down a wooden track, only to plop face-down into the mud.

President Bush was on hand for the event, though he did not announce plans to revive NASA missions to the moon, which some had anticipated. Actor John Travolta, who introduced the president, volunteered to go on the first moon mission. Bush, who made no commitment to the space program and didn't stay for the actual test flight, said of Travolta "We shall call him moon man from now on." Folks, that's better than anything I can make up.

The Wrights owned a bicycle shop in their hometown of Dayton, Ohio before deciding that what the world needed was a flying bicycle. Thus, the state of Ohio has adopted the motto of their state as "The Birthplace of Aviation," which has put them in a tussle with North Carolina whom has long referred to itself as "First in Flight." Apparently, the state of Ohio doesn't feel that it has anything else to promote that they can use as a slogan. How about "Home of the Pro Football Hall of Fame" or "There's a Reason They Call it Lake Erie" or "Home of the Cayuhoga River; So Polluted That it Once Caught Fire?"

The boys began tinkering with the "aeroplane" and decided that the best place to test it was at "Kill Devil Hills" in Kitty Hawk. It is reasonable to assume that they chose this location for it's aeronautics and not its ominous sounding name. Wind currents are probably also why they chose that location over nearby "Crash and Burn Mountain" and "We're Going to Die Field."

The first successful flight lasted just twelve seconds. That was not long enough for an in-flight movie, but just long enough to view a one-panel cartoon. The flight also went a mere 120 twenty feet, which is the distance of a short pop up.

Of course, there have been great advances since then. One can now hop on a plane and be on another continent in the same day. As we learned on September 11, 2001, this technology can be misused with devastating consequences. Had the airplane never developed beyond the Wright Flyer, a plane crashing into the World Trade Center Towers would've resulted in a scratched window and a dead pilot.

The hijacking craze of the 1970's itself never would've come to be if the airplane hadn't improved it's distance capability. A hijacker's demands would've been limited. "Take this plane...across the street."

We probably also would've missed out on the airline that decided to have a "nude" flight, which by the way, would make getting through customs a lot easier.

The year 1903 saw some historic journeys. Besides the Wright's historic plane trip, Horatio Nelson Jackson made the first ever cross-country automobile trip. Perhaps it's because there are no great journeys to take, or because we've lost our collective drive, but the only journey this country is focused on in 2003 is that of Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie and their trek to Arkansas to live on a farm in the reality TV show "The Simple Life."

Despite the acclaim they received for their world-changing invention, neither Orville or Wilbur ever married proving that in the early twentieth century, as now, even being a famous inventor couldn't get you laid if your name was "Orville" or "Wilbur."

I just wonder if on that historic first flight Orville had a little bag of salted peanuts.

Posted by dmargarita at 10:37 PM

December 15, 2003

Deck the Halls...and the Cellar

We always knew this ace of spades was low. Now the ace has been removed from the deck.

America woke up on Sunday to discover that former Iraqi dictator Saddam Hussein had been captured by U.S. forces. Well, that's one cure for a hangover.

The deposed dictator was discovered hiding in a small hole in the ground that had a bed as well as an air vent built into it, located perhaps, just off the "weapons of mass destruction" room. In his possession was $750,000 in U.S. cash, which he apparently opted to take into hiding instead of what was behind the curtain that Carol Merrill was standing in front of.

Since his capture, news outlets have been constantly replaying a video of Saddam, looking as though he were headed to a Grateful Dead concert, being examined by an army doctor for lice like a gorilla in the wild. No doubt that the U.S. government enjoyed humiliating Hussein with shots of him "opening wide" for the doctor, but decided not to embarrass him too much by releasing video of his prostate exam.

Gleeful Iraqi's celebrated in the streets by dancing, waving flags and shooting guns into the air. One person who may not have been so gleeful was the guy driving the fuel truck a few blocks away whose truck exploded when struck by a stray bullet (true). After the celebrations are over, Iraqi's are expected to gleefully resume attacks on U.S. soldiers.

Saddam had allegedly been turned in by a cousin living nearby, although it was unclear if the cousin would get the $25 million reward that the U.S. had put up for information leading to Saddam's capture. Nor is it clear if Saddam will get the $25 million for announcing "My name is Saddam Hussein" to U.S. soldiers upon his discovery, thus turning himself in. He then added "I am the president of Iraq, and I want to negotiate," which is like trying to sell your house while standing in front of its burned out shell. I remember attempting a similar negotiating tactic in elementary school while the school bully was beating me to a pulp.

Now the issue becomes what to do with him. Despite his scruffy look, you probably won't see him by the side of the road with a sign that reads "Will oppress for food." Exactly where he'll be tried remains to be seen, but since the Americans captured him, he ought to be hauled in front of Judge Judy. Although if he gets O.J. Simpson's "Dream Team" lawyers he just might get off.

Some Iraqi supporters of Hussein expressed disappointment that the dictator did not go down with guns-a-blazin' as he promised or that he didn't end his own life rather than surrender. I suspect that more than cowardice or survival instincts, he may have felt that he had someone looking over him...other than the U.S. soldier with an automatic weapon, I mean.

At a press briefing later, Major General Raymond Ordierno declared that Hussein was caught "like a rat" in his underground lair. Odierno didn't specify if he was referring to a "lab" rat, in which case Hussein might be used in medical experiments.

The underground hideout sat on the other side of the river, within sight of one of his former palaces. His capture means that Iraqi's can finally relax and not worry that Saddam might be "playing the palace" again someday.

In the end it proved to be "the mother of all surrenders."

Posted by dmargarita at 1:37 PM

December 8, 2003

Gobble, Gobble Doppelganger

Political opponents of President George W. Bush might call him "two-faced" for his deceptive handling of the war. That insult is figurative, but I'm wondering if that might literally be true.

By now you've all seen the photos of the president carrying a turkey while visiting U.S. troops in Iraq on Thanksgiving. What you may or may not have heard is that it turns out that the bird that Bush was photographed carrying, apparently was a fake or "decoration" turkey, as the White House is calling it. Military sources told reporters that a decorative turkey is a standard feature of holiday chow lines. I'm sure there's nothing that soldiers like better after months of having been a sitting duck (pardon the pun) than to get in line and drool over a delicious looking bird only to be told that it's made of plastic. Ha-ha.

It seemed appropriate to me that Bush was carrying a turkey double while visiting a country whose leader is known to have a number of doubles or "doppelgangers," if you will. Then it hit me. What if it really wasn't George W. Bush? Could it have been a double?

I presume that George W. Bush would've learned from his stint in the National Guard when he went AWOL for the last several months. If you're going to be president, you've got to show up unless you've got someone available to replace you.

After all, the man who made headlines for landing on an aircraft carrier and then swaggering around on deck with a helmet and flight suit would probably not skulk into Baghdad under the cover of darkness, visit some troops in an airplane hanger for a couple of hours and sneak out without everyone knowing about it ahead of time. That's not exactly a "Top Gun" moment.

A Bush double would explain a lot of things. Would the leader of the most powerful military in the history of the world really not know how to pronounce the word "nuclear?" If you haven't heard him, Bush... or whoever he is, says "NU-CU-LER."

Would the real President of the United States do something as bone-headed as challenging guerilla fighters by saying "Bring 'em on!?"

The idea of a double is nothing new. At the end of The Beatles career, word got around that Paul McCartney was in fact dead and had been replaced by a double. Fans began searching songs and album covers for clues. It's time to unravel this Bush mystery the same way.

A review of the president's 2002 State of the Union Address provides some startling clues. When you play a tape of the phrase "axis of evil" backwards it says "live fo sixa," which in Latin means "live for sex." A President of the United States would never publicly state that.

In reference to Iraq the president says "This is a regime that has something to hide from the civilized world." Yes, and so far that something has been Sadaam Hussein.

During an applause break Vice President Dick Cheney can be seen with his hand over Bush's head. In Upper Volta that is considered a sign of death.

At one point he calls Ted Kennedy his friend. Who are we kidding? If he said that at the Republican National Convention, a trap door would open up beneath his feet.

On the other hand, perhaps I'm being overly suspicious. In Iraq, if you have the misfortune to resemble Sadaam Hussein, you have to become his double, which means that your job is to be the mistaken target for a bullet.

In America if you look like the president or someone famous, you can make a living by showing up at parties and impersonating them.

The latter seems pretty easy while the former is probably as tough as a plastic turkey.

Posted by dmargarita at 4:15 PM

December 1, 2003

"A" is for "Attica"

They say that crime doesn't pay. That may or may not be true...but it sure does cost a lot.

Recent news reports state that for the first time in at least 35 years, Massachusetts is spending more on jails and prisons than on public higher education. This leaves one of two possibilities: reporters were too lazy to look back more than 35 years, or that 36 years ago, spending more on prisons than higher education was Massachusetts' policy.

According to a report in The Boston Globe, higher education appropriations were cut 29 percent between 1988 and 1992 and 27 percent between 2001and 2004 for an aggregate total of 56 percent. All of which proves that my lower education in English and basic arithmetic were sufficient to read that article.

This year's state budget included $830 million in funding for prisons and jails and "only" $816 million for schools. Perhaps the cost of barbed wire has gone up, while the cost of textbooks has decreased. I wish they'd give me "only" one percent of that.

We live in an era of constant budget cuts to education. It seems to me that public officials are missing a chance to save money in both the corrections and education areas. Several hundred million could be lopped off the state budget by combining the two programs. My idea is simple---let's send college students to prison.

Men leaving prison often have a hard time adjusting to society and getting a job. That's because they re-enter society with unusable job skills. What are prisoners best known for making in prison? License plates. A recent scan of the help wanted section of the paper tells me that license plate makers are not in great demand.

If prisoners can become teachers they would probably have a much better chance at obtaining employment upon their release. White collar, corporate criminals could teach mathematics and business classes. Repeat offenders could possibly teach law courses, having had multiple experiences with the legal system. Some offenders could teach science courses using their knowledge of chemicals.

If they are not capable of teaching those courses, they can teach kids more street savvy and useful things like how to make a spoon into a "shank," how to carve a gun out of a bar of soap and how to smuggle contraband in various orifices.

As for the students, well, you remember college. Society may be safer with them off the streets. Incidents of "cow tipping" alone would be radically reduced. Giant mascots and logos would be safe from kidnapping and a prison would probably not have to worry about a crowd tearing down the football goalposts.

Speaking of football, athletics could continue to be important. After all, has anyone seen "The Longest Yard?"

It's a sad commentary on our society that prison spending should be higher than education spending. Without any data in front of me, I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that the bulk of people in prison tend to be less educated. If less quality education is available, the disparity between the two budgets will probably continue to grow.

The only bright side of this is that if the economy continues to grow and car sales improve there'll be more of a need for license plates.

Posted by dmargarita at 6:18 AM

November 24, 2003

The Mickey/Michael Connection

Perhaps you're sick of hearing about Michael Jackson by now. Well, I'm sick of writing about him.

I've already devoted a column to him in this space, "Bad Dad, or Just Mad?" which you can access through my website www.danmargarita.com under the "topical" category. How's that for a shameless plug?

Originally I thought I'd write about Mickey Mouse, who celebrated his 75th birthday last week. It was a gala affair in Disney World where Mickey, who continues to work despite his advancing years, was surrounded at the theme park by rides, animals and adoring children. Wait a minute---that's exactly the lifestyle that got Michael Jackson in trouble!

Now that I think of it, the two entertainers are really not all that different.

They're both skinny, have high pitched voices and love to be around children.

Both of them have suffered career declines in recent years.

Both of them have large homes in southern California. They each have the first name Michael. OK, Mickey's first name isn't Michael, but generally the name Mickey is a nickname for Michael, the lone exception being baseball legend Mickey Mantle whose birth name was "Mickey" after another baseball great Mickey Cochrane, whom Mantle's father idolized.

Each of them has radically different faces than when they first came into the public eye. Jackson's cosmetic surgeries have been well publicized, while Mouse's (I think I should be consistent with the same possessive here) face has gone from the rat-like, black-eyed face to a rounder mug with pupils.

One's company produced "The Lion King" while the other was married to Lisa Marie Presley, the daughter of "The King" of rock and roll.

They both have enjoyed similar financial success in becoming multi-millionaires. One's company now has a theme park in Paris, and the other has a daughter named Paris. Both can be considered as anthropomorphic, defined in Webster's dictionary as "described or thought of as having a human form or human attributes.

Mickey was conceived as an alternative to Oswald the Lucky Rabbit, Walt Disney's first character, whose ownership rights Disney was forced to surrender to a greedy distributor. Michael was conceived to become the lead singer in the family act, The Jackson Five.

Michael dangled a baby over the railing of his hotel room, while Mickey dangled from the edge of a cliff in one of his early movies. OK, I don't know that for sure, but he was a mischievous creature in his early films, so it's probable that like most cartoon characters of the era he wound up dangling from the edge of a cliff at some point.

There are of course, some differences. Mickey Mouse originally appeared as "Steamboat Willie" in his first cartoon, while Jackson was never named Steamboat Willie to my knowledge. Mickey Mouse has stayed with the same woman, Minnie Mouse, for his entire career whereas Michael Jackson has been married twice.

Perhaps the most shameful similarity between the two is that both continue to have children visit them even though the children's parents should be well aware that the cost might be very high.

Posted by dmargarita at 12:39 PM

November 17, 2003

Guess Who's Going To Be Dinner?

They say that love means never having to say you're sorry, but the carnivorous diet of your ancestors is something else.

The Boston Herald and several other news outlets reported that the descendants of cannibals in a remote Fijian community publicly apologized to the descendants of a British missionary who was killed and eaten there in 1867. They didn't relate the specifics of the conversation, but I imagine it was something more than "Sorry we ate your ancestors." I supposed they could've tried some left-handed compliment such as "He was delicious."

The Rev. Thomas Baker and eight (appropriately) Fijian followers were killed and eaten by cannibals in the village of Nabutautau and villagers have believed that their community has been cursed ever since. And to think that they're probably not even Red Sox fans and have likely never heard of "The Curse of the Bambino." So when's the last time THEY won a World Series?

Tribal legend has it that Rev. Baker lent the chief a comb and then tried to retrieve it when it became tangled in the chief's hair. In the process Baker inadvertently touched the chief's head not knowing that such an act was taboo and punishable by death. There may have been a possible monetary fine as well.

Cannibalism was outlawed in the late 19th century which ended with the introduction of Christianity (and perhaps clergy sexual abuse as well), according to the Washington Times/UPI. The Times also states that Baker was the last white man the villagers ate, not specifying whether they found white men too inedible or too scarce for future meals.

Accounts from a village member who participated in the feast of Baker is quoted as saying "We ate everything but his boots" which the villagers apparently boiled but simply found to difficult for consumption (boots must always be sauteed for tenderness).

Villagers believe that Baker or disapproving gods have punished them by seeing that modern amenities such as electricity and piped water have passed them by. Fortunately, the villagers remain blissfully unaware that they've also missed disco, leisure suits and The Jerry Springer Show.

Reuters says that children have to walk 15 miles to and from school everyday, albeit not through six feet of snow as our parents and grandparents had to.

Relatives of Baker met with villagers and were given 100 sperm whale teeth, or tabua, as a reconciliation gesture as well as to show how sophisticated the villagers have become.

The Herald has a photo of current village chief Ratu Filimoni Mawawabalavu leaning over to give a kiss to Baker descendant Les Lester, who frankly, looks a little timid. It's bad enough to have had your ancestors eaten, but it's no picnic going through life with a name like "Lester Lester."

After the ceremony, some of Baker's kin sat down (nervously) with the villagers for a feast. None of the news reports specified what the meal was, but since the village doesn't have electricity, it probably wasn't leftovers.

"This is our third apology but, unlike the other two, this one of being offered physically to the family of Mr. Baker" said Mawawabalavu. Apparently, the previous two mental apologies were unsuccessful.

The villagers understandably want the essentials that modernization has to bring. Hopefully they'll take advantage of some of the more trivial aspects of 21st century life.

They can start by getting "The Food Channel."

Posted by dmargarita at 7:14 PM

November 3, 2003

Hit Me With Your Best Shot

It was either a case of the worst marksman in history, or the most elusive victim.

By now you've probably seen the video footage of a man shooting a lawyer outside of a courtroom in Los Angeles. Fortunately, 64-year old William Strier chose to shoot Gerald Curry outside of a courthouse where numerous camera crews happened to be on site for a hearing for accused murderer, actor Robert Blake. He could've only gotten more coverage if he'd shot someone outside of Scott Peterson's courthouse.

On TV, murderers often try to perpetrate "the perfect crime" to avoid capture. Mr. Strier seems to have gone on to attempt "the imperfect crime." Prosecutors must be licking their chops at the thought of trying Mr. Strier. You don't need the deductive reasoning of Sherlock Holmes to solve this case. In fact, a middle school student could probably prosecute this one and win (although I kind of thought that about the O.J. Simpson case, as well).

Lawyers are an often despised segment of society, hence all the lawyer jokes such as: Q--What do you call 500 lawyers at the bottom of the ocean? A--A start; or: Q--What's the difference between a dead skunk in the road and a dead lawyer in the road? A--There are skid marks in front of the skunk.

All of these are grossly unfair to the legal profession, a necessary job that has to be done by someone (he says so as not to be sued for libel by his lawyer friends). While I may have often said rhetorically that someone "should be shot," that's not a form of justice that I endorse.

Fortunately Mr. Curry was not seriously hurt, despite being shot in the neck and arms, or I wouldn't be so flip about it. Hell, I'm still avoiding making Lincoln assassination jokes because I don't want to offend the Lincoln family.

Let's recount the scene for those of you who have not witnessed it. Mr. Strier, described by some as "disgruntled" (of course, who would do this if they were "gruntled?") is shown on tape shooting at Mr. Curry, who, standing behind a tree, moves from side-to-side, dodging bullets. Either Mr. Strier has the worst shooting eye since the nearsighted "Vanderbuilt" character from "F Troop" or Mr. Curry should be able to leap tall buildings in a single bound.

At first glimpse one isn't sure if it's an outtake from the farcical TV show "Police Squad" in which a cop, played by Leslie Neilson, would sometimes be engaged in a shoot-out with a suspect while each would hide behind trash cans three feet apart. Or perhaps a scene from "Benny Hill." All that was missing were Strier and Curry racing around the tree in fast motion to the tune "Yakkity Sax." Clearly, I watch WAY too much TV.

In L.A., a show business town, many of the major crimes appear to be caught on videotape. It seems that every other day there's a car chase being shown on the news, taped from a helicopter. No wonder the traffic on the highways is so bad out there. The helicopter traffic people are too busy watching police pursuits unfold to tell motorists which roads to avoid.

Then again, what do you expect in a town where people are likely to use videotape of themselves committing a crime as an audition tape for their resume?

Posted by dmargarita at 2:21 PM

October 27, 2003

A Barrel of Laughs

My Webster's Ninth New Collegiate Dictionary defines the word "stupid" as "given to unintelligent decisions or acts." New editions may feature a picture of Kirk Jones, the man who intentionally threw himself over the Canadian side of Niagara Falls last week.

The Associated Press reported the story by saying that "A man survived a plunge over Niagara Falls with only the clothes on his back." The article makes no mention of how many people went over naked.

The only previous survivor to go over without a barrel or other contraption of any kind was a 7-year-old boy in 1960 who was wearing a life preserver when thrown overboard from a boat. Exactly what he said to his parents to get himself thrown overboard is unclear.

According to The Daily Beacon (OK, I've never heard of it either), Jones told ABC News that he didn't want to go on living, but authorities believe that it was not a suicide attempt, but a stunt. The fact that X-rays found twenty live goldfish in Jones' stomach added credence to that theory.

Family and friends told ABC that Jones had been considering the jump for years, possibly since the cancellation of "Star Trek." Police are reviewing videotape of the incident shot by a friend of Jones who accompanied him to the falls. Authorities had to fast forward through scenes of Jones dropping water balloons and initiating flatulence conflagrations. Jones is being charged with unlawfully performing a stunt and could be fined $10,000 dollars, about $7,600 American. There's also talk that he could be sentenced to 30 days in jail, three weeks American.

Jones did lose his job recently when his parents had to shut down the family business. The Daily Beacon quotes The Detroit News as quoting Jones' father (got to make sure I give the proper attributions), Raymond Jones, as saying that he had to lay off his son. Jones' mother claims that her husband misinterpreted her when she told him to "lay off the boy." Jones' Niagara Falls stunt stunned his parents who expected him to once again to run away from home and join the circus.

After plunging over the falls, Jones was washed down stream a ways before climbing onto a rock virtually unscathed where he was promptly arrested. Jones later received a congratulatory telegram from fellow daredevil, Wile E. Coyote.
Since 1901 some 17 people, excluding suicide attempts, have plunged over Niagara Falls in a barrel or some other type of contraption. Five of them have died. Here are some of the attempts courtesy of the AP:

Oct. 24, 1901--Annie Edison Taylor goes over in an oak barrel, paving the way for women's rights movement. Many men suggest to their wives that they should also attempt to advance the women's movement.

July 25, 1911--Englishman Bobby Leach goes over in a steel barrel, becoming the first man to accomplish the task. he sends a note to Annie Edison Taylor that reads "Any stupid thing you can do, I can do better. I can do any stupid thing better than you."

July 11, 1920--George Stevens, known as the "English Daredevil" dies in his attempt to ride over the falls in an oak barrel. He's later known as the "English Dead-devil."

July 4, 1928--Jean Lussier, a French Canadian, survives in a steel reinforced rubber ball. Lussier's rubber ball then bounces back to the top of the falls and he goes over again.

July 5, 1930--George Stathakis dies when his oak barrel is caught behind the Horseshoe Falls for 16 hours. Years later a man in Reading, Ma. is killed by his wife when she finds out that he spent 16 hours at the Horseshoe Lounge.

July 15, 1961--William Fitzgerald goes over in a rubber and steel ball he uses for the feat and calls it the "Plunge-O-Sphere." Jean Lussier sues him for copyright infringement and receives the proceeds from the vast sales of Plunge-O-Spheres.

Oct. 5, 1985--Dave Munday goes over in a barrel consisting of a 400 gallon plastic tank surrounded by foam. Munday explains that he performed the stunt because he's never been surrounded by women.

Sept. 28, 1989--Peter DeBernardi and Jeff Petkovich are the first two-person team to go over in a barrel. DeBernardi complains that Petkovich hogs most of the barrel.

June 5, 1990--Jesse "Not Too" Sharp plunges to his death while attempting the stunt in a 12-foot kayak.

Sept. 26, 1993--Using a converted diving bell, Dave Munday becomes the first person to successfully ride over the falls twice. The Munday family begins searching for therapists.

Oct. 1, 1995--Robert "Firecracker" (his real nickname) Overacker (his real last name) dies while trying to go over the falls on a Jet Ski. Mr. Overacker's family explains that he was heavily influenced by Fonzie's water ski jump over a shark on "Happy Days."

Niagara falls has long been known as a place for newly married couples to go on their honeymoon.

There something about Niagara Falls that seems to make people want to plunge to their possible death---or is it something about marriage?

Posted by dmargarita at 3:14 PM

October 19, 2003

This Man's Best Friend

Is there anything more heartbreaking and gut-wrenching than having to put your dog to sleep? Judging by this past week's experience, I'd have to say "no."

After almost fifteen years of faithful companionship, Stoneham's best known and most beloved dog Root Beer is now in doggie heaven.

Age and infirmity had slowed her down considerably and she was no longer enjoying her life, so with a heavy heart I took her to the veterinarian's where I said a tearful goodbye. Yup, I readily admit that I bawled like Siegfried at Roy's bedside.

Root Beer was the sister of Peller, owned by the vet who had treated our previous dogs. My father went to get a new dog and was taken to see a litter of new yellow labs. One little pup ran over to him and he said "You're my dog."

Then, in his capacity as Equipment Manager at Stoneham High School, he brought the dog to S.H.S. and announced a contest in which students would submit names for the dog. "Root Beer" was unique and somewhat fitting, as her coat did resemble the color of a head on a glass of root beer. OK, I wasn't crazy about the name and tried to call her "R.B." for a while, but it didn't stick.

Still, my father and Root Beer became fixtures at Stoneham High sporting events, and were known throughout the Middlesex League. One sport he would never take her to was gymnastics since it is a sport that requires audience silence. My father didn't want to be responsible for a girl messing up a dismount because Root Beer picked a rare time to bark.

Basketball games often saw Root Beer and Dad's presence. She slightly embarrassed Dad one game when she snuck away from him and went trotting down the sideline in front of the player's bench forcing the referees to blow the whistle and stop play. Dad did proudly admit that she never actually went on the court, though.

While hopefully avoiding getting into a hackneyed comedian's bit, in my opinion a dog's love is unconditional and undying. You walk in the door and your little pal trots around the corner with her tail wagging. She's always happy to see you. You know this because her tail will wag. I don't think a dog can "fake it," and thus dogs are inherently honest.

A dog never claims that you're not "meeting its needs." If you feed it, let it out on occasion and show it some attention, you're meeting its needs.

The only thing about a dog that bothers me is that they have no manners. When you're all trying to get in out of the rain, the dog is always the first one in the door as soon as it opens. It never crosses a dog's mind to say "after you."

Everyone thinks his or her pet is the smartest and I'm no exception. One of my father's favorite tricks was to ask Root Beer "How much is one plus one?"

That was Root Beer's cue to bark twice. If only Dad had worked that hard with me on my math skills...

After the deed was done I was able to get some solace in the Red Sox exciting win over the Yankees in Game 6 of the American League playoffs.

Of course the next night the Red Sox lost the pennant with another historically monumental screw up and did not win the World Series for the 85th straight year.

In dog years, Root Beer lived to be 98 years old.

At least in dog years she would've gotten to see the Red Sox win a World Series.

So long, pal.

Posted by dmargarita at 8:51 PM

September 29, 2003

Going Ape

You may not have to go out to see any remake of the movie "Planet of the Apes" because it might just come to you.

One day after the Boston Globe featured a story about the problem of gorillas escaping from various wildlife sanctuaries, a 300-pound gorilla named Little Joe bolted for the second time in two months from the Franklin Park Zoo and cut a 2-year old and bit a zoo worker. Zookeepers say that Little Joe posed less of a threat to humans than Hoss or Adam would have (a "Bonanza" reference that few people under 35 will get unless they're "TV Land" addicts).

In his most recent adventure, Little Joe made it off the zoo premises and into the surrounding neighborhood, with one resident claiming to have seen Little Joe at a bus stop. Little Joe, perhaps lacking "exact change," then wandered to a nearby wooded area, where he was captured with the help of four tranquilizer darts---the same number it used to take to bring down Dan Blocker.

Some zoo workers took refuge in a ticket booth where Little Joe menaced them by banging on the booth and pressing his face up against the glass. The workers said they often deal with such behavior before pointing out that the sign says suggested donation.

Little Joe may have escaped in the same manner as he had previously when his long arms and lean body enabled him to scale the moat and a wall designed to separate him from the general public, which zoo officials apparently didn't make sufficient effort to remedy.

The Globe piece states that "young males can start to become a problem between the ages of 10 and 19 when they start to become more interested in females." And to think that creationists don't believe that humans are related to apes. The gorillas also tend to pay less attention in school and play their music loudly.

The article goes on to quote Victor Camp of Minnesota's Como Zoo, or Victor Como of Minnesota's Camp Zoo, I'm not sure which is which, as comparing the problem to the "bar male syndrome." That is when guys are getting along fine in a bar until the women arrive and the males begin "strutting their stuff." Camp also notes that the gorillas love to play "pull my finger" and argue "tastes great" versus "less filling."

This is somewhat ironic considering that my Webster's Ninth New Collegiate Dictionary opens the definition of "gorilla" with (and I'm not making this up) "deriv. of Gk Gorillai, believed to be the name of an alleged African tribe of hairy women." A tribe of hairy women in a bar are probably the last ones that a bunch of guys will hit on.

Little Joe's escapes are by no means the first. A male gorilla named Hercules escaped from the Dallas Zoo in 1998 and bit a zookeeper before dragging her down a hallway. Of course, any self-respecting gorilla would've carried her to the top of the highest building.

The Franklin Park Zoo had attempted to deal with the increasingly aggressive gorillas a few years ago by giving them antidepressants and anti-anxiety medications. That proved to be ineffective and the zoo is considering psychotherapy.

Let's hope the Franklin Park Zoo gets its act together and starts keeping the wild animals IN the zoo.

Two citizens have been injured and no doubt a lawsuit will be pending. It's pretty easy to imagine what the plaintiff's testimony will be:

YOU MANIACS! DAMN YOU! GOD DAMN YOU ALL TO HELL!

Posted by dmargarita at 10:37 PM

September 21, 2003

A Latte Taxes

It was a battle between Dr. Seuss and Mr. Coffee and Mr. Coffee won.

Seattle residents recently voted overwhelmingly to defeat an initiative that would've added ten cents to espresso drinks in the city which would fund pre-kindergarten programs. This proved to be quite a kick to Barney the Dinosaur's groin.

"I love you, you hate me, you want your caffeine drinks tax-free."

Seattle has become famous for it's coffee, particularly since the city is responsible for infesting the rest of the world with "Starbucks" franchises. As the city known for it's coffee drinking, one wonders when they ever sleep, giving new meaning to the phrase "Sleepless in Seattle." Capitalism pits markets forces against each other and the competition is supposed give consumers a choice to choose between brands. If you don't want to pay the prices at Starbucks, you can always go across the street to...another Starbucks.

Some Seattleites (Seattletonians?) say that they're not against funding education, they just think adding a tax for espresso drinkers is unfair. "Discrimination" was the charge from some quarters, that those mid-to-upper income types willing to shovel out nearly $4 for a cup of coffee, shouldn't have to shell out $4.10 for a mocha latte even if it means educating a child. This is hardly the kind of discrimination that will necessitate a chorus of "We Shall Overcome." Some locals did protest, though. A group of folks reenacted the Boston Tea Party by dressing up as Colonial Americans and dumping coffee into Green Lake, missing the fact that the Colonists dressed as Indians when they committed that act and were protesting a tax that was already implemented without any input on their part. Hence the phrase "No taxation without representation" which was not the case in Seattle. They had one thing in common with the Colonists, though----the chance to dress up in costume and pollute the water.

Of course, seldom do prices for anything ever go down in this country. When Starbucks raises the price of a large espresso to $4.10 people in Seattle may grumble but will likely pay it---as long as it doesn't go to fund a child's education.

Naturally, the Starbucks corporation funded opposition to the measure. In fact some Starbucks employees and regular customers were probably up all night pacing the floor while working on the campaign against the tax drive. The corporation contributed $50,000 to create an organization called Joined in Opposition to the Latte Tax (JOLT) to fight against the measure. Other potential names for this group included Joined in Undermining Making Payments to Youths (JUMPY) and Not Everyone Really Voices Opposition Unless Stressed (NERVOUS).

The opposition missed an opportunity to create a rival organization such as Really, Everyone Loves A Xenophile Enjoying Decaf (RELAXED). You have no idea how hard it was to come up with a viable "x" word that didn't involve the table of elements.

People who are addicted to coffee tend to be protective of their beverage. They'll climb the highest mountain for a cup of their favorite java and another ten cents to fund education doesn't sound unreasonable to me, but then I'm not the one paying it.

To research this piece I went and got a large Caramel Macchiato at Starbucks for $3.90. It was very good, I must say, but in the long run proved to be irrelevant to anything I had to write here. So now I'm out $6.50 for the latte and a cinnamon scone and I probably won't be able to sleep for two days.

Hopefully the people who voted against a ten cent tax to fund children's education in Seattle will be able to sleep at night.

Posted by dmargarita at 4:00 PM

September 15, 2003

Boxed In

I like to travel. I'm thinking of going somewhere soon, but I just can't decide how big of a crate to ship myself in.

You've probably heard about Charles McKinley, a 25 year old man who shipped himself in a crate via air cargo from New York City to his father's house in a suburb of Dallas, Texas. I guess that traveling in a crate by train from New York to Dallas would've been inconvenient.

With the help of a co-worker, Mr. McKinley decided to save a few bucks on air fare by packing himself into a crate and marking it "computer and clothes" and sending it on a Kitty Hawk Cargo plane. This was not completely inaccurate as McKinley did bring his computer with him and he was wearing clothes. Mr. McKinley explained on the "Today" show that he was short of cash and was not in the crate because he was a really bad mime who took the "trapped in a box" bit too literally.

No news reports mention if McKinley was aware that there were stops in Buffalo and Ft. Wayne involving a plane change. The downside of being a stowaway in a crate is that it's tough to belly up to the lounge bar in a large wooden box and order a drink during a layover.

According to the Associated Press, McKinley stuck his employer with the estimated $550-$650 bill. The AP report quotes a Pilot Air Freight executive as saying that at that rate "he could've flown first class." As cargo trips go, that was first class. Mr. McKinley was lucky or smart enough to have picked a flight that had his crate transported in a heated, pressurized compartment. Had he been in a non-pressurized compartment...well, let's just say that he would've arrived in a vastly different state, and I'm not referring to Texas.

McKinley made the trip undetected until the delivery driver dropping the crate off at McKinley's parent's house noticed a pair of eyes staring back at him from inside the crate. That in itself would be freaky enough, but to the driver's dismay there was a live body attached to them. McKinley then kicked out the side of the crate and crawled out, much like a scene from the movie "Alien" or at least the Marx Brother's "Monkey Business."

The driver contacted the police who have detained McKinley on outstanding warrants for check theft and traffic violations. Apparently, authorities are still trying to determine if shipping yourself in a crate is against the law.

If it's not against the law, this could be a bonanza for the ailing airline industry, which is always looking to cut costs and attract business. Instead of trying to get more from business class flights, the airlines could appeal to the working class with "cargo flights."

Of course there would be different levels of cargo flights. Perhaps a padded crate for those in first-class cargo. Entertainment shouldn't be skimped on. Perhaps an in-flight movie such as "Castaway" or some music such as Simon and Garfunkle's "The Boxer" could be provided.

Since we've just passed the Sept. 11 anniversary, and at a time when airline security is supposed to be heightened, it's a little discomforting to know that cargo air freight security is so lax.

As for Mr. McKinley, I'm actually inclined to a little feel sorry for him and would even consider sending him a present to help him out.

Of course it would probably something from "Crate & Barrel."

Posted by dmargarita at 6:28 PM

September 8, 2003

Day Tripper

Author Thomas Wolfe once wrote a novel called "You Can't Go Home Again." This certainly appears to be true if you're attempted presidential assassin John Hinckley Jr., unless they are hospital supervised visits.

In 1981 Hinckley shot President Ronald Reagan and three others in an attempt to impress actress Jodie Foster. Hinckley was found to be not guilty by reason of insanity and has spent the past 21 years at St. Elizabeth's Hospital while Foster has gone on to become a successful actress and director as well as a single mom. Gee, they seemed so right for each other.

Hinckley has been in the news lately because his lawyers are requesting that he be allowed ten unsupervised visits to his parents house. He has been taking supervised day trips to his parents since 1999 and now his attorneys argue that he is no longer a threat to anyone and should be allowed five daylong and five overnight stays without someone standing nearby with a syringe and a straightjacket.

Heck, if that goes well, perhaps he can contribute to society by becoming a Boy Scout leader.

The would-be assassin had made several previous attempts to gain his release but was denied on various occasions because he was found to have numerous pictures of Foster in his room, and for having corresponded with serial killer Ted Bundy and Lynette "Squeaky "Fromme, who had attempted to assassinate President Gerald Ford in 1975. I guess if you're a would-be presidential assassin, your ability to find someone you have something in common with is limited.

According to a Washington Post report, Hinckley's lawyers cite statements from five doctors that if released, Hinckley would not pose a danger to himself or others. The doctors were not identified, so for all we know they could be a dentist, a podiatrist, a doctor of philosophy, Dr. Who and Dr. J. The USA Today states that Hinckley initially made this request three years ago, but was denied a hearing when prosecutors said that he still had a "continued interest in violently themed books and music." If that's the standard for insanity, they might as well lock up a good portion of high school students across the country.

"The legal standard is Mr. Hinckley must be released if he is no longer a danger to himself or others" said Hinckley's lawyer, Barry Levine.

Extrapolating that logic, if he's not a threat to himself or others, he should be released completely. Of course he would have to eventually work his way back into society. Hinckley would soon find out that the job market has changed since 1981. Many companies now do random drug testing as well as psychological profiles on prospective employees. I'd love to be a fly on the wall for that interview.

"OK, Mr. Hinckley. I'm going to show you some inkblots and I want you to tell me the first thing that comes to mind. Here's the first one. What do you see?"

"Jodie Foster."

"How about this one?"

"Jodie Foster."

"And this?"

"Jodie Foster."

"What about this one?"

"Tatum O'Neal."

It's not as though employers aren't going to know who he is and even if they don't, most companies are supposed to check references. I don't imagine that Hinckley's been able to cultivate a lot of good references in the past 21 years, unless you count Mark David Chapman, Sirhan Sirhan and Charles Manson.

The government is opposed to this move even though two of their own psychiatrists examined Hinckley and agreed that with medication, Hinckley's psychotic and depressive disorders are in remission and he is not violent and dangerous as long as they "just keep the nut away from me." Of course doctors have been known to be wrong. A misdiagnosed inflamed appendix might prove fatal to a patient, but a misdiagnosed psychotic disorder could be fatal to others. Well, I guess if your driving a bus full of people when your appendix burst, it could prove fatal to others.

There's no reason Hinckley couldn't capitalize on his fame upon his release. After all, the man has to make a living somehow and advertisers don't seem to have many scruples if it means selling a product. Perhaps it would only be a matter of time before we see this commercial:

"Hey John Hinckley, you've just been deemed unthreatening to society and have been released from a mental institution. What do you plan to do now?"

"I'm going to Disneyworld!"

Hopefully his hearing has been tested and is OK, because the last thing anybody wants to hear John Hinckley say is "Are you talkin' to me?"

Posted by dmargarita at 2:41 PM

August 25, 2003

Blue Diamond

Sadaam Hussein and Osama bin Laden can never defeat this country. We may be impotent to deter the attacks of their followers, but that's where our impotence ends.

Viagra, the "little blue pill" designed to help men diagnosed with "erectile dysfunction" soon will have some stiff competition. According to "Business Wire," a new drug Cialis (TM) (tadalafil), soon to receive FDA approval, had allowed men to stay in a state of arousal for up the 36 hours in a controlled study. Sort of like being in high school again. Will attempts to improve on that continue? Will we eventually see a pill that works 24/7?

According to the article the study was published in the June 2003 issue of "Urology." I'm not making that up. (Their swimsuit issue must be a killer).The piece goes on to say that 64 percent of men given tadalafil were successful in their attempts at...um, shall we say "circling the bases" some 36 hours after taking the drug, while only 35 percent of men were successful after taking a placebo, which means that 65 percent of their partners remained frustrated. OK, I made that last statistic up.

Cialis, along with another new drug Levitra, will attempt to take the edge away from Pfizer, the maker of Viagra. Levitra is said to take effect in fifteen minutes, half the time of Viagra, while as I mentioned earlier, Cialis can last for up to 36 hours, begging the question "who needs to be aroused for 36 hours?" This is not a drug to be taking if you have to go anywhere the next day, like...to work.

"Good morning, Bob. Say...you really enjoy your work, don't you?"

One constant Viagra commercial involves a guy walking into work and no one can figure out what's different about him. It shouldn't have been all that difficult.

"Good morning, Joe. Did you get a haircut?"

"Nope."

"Have you lost weight?"

"Nope."

"New suit?"

"Nope."

"Did you get laid last night?"

"E.D." is a serious problem for those who suffer from it and for them Viagra proved to be a Godsend. The little blue pill has gone mainstream, initially contracting none other than former Senator and presidential candidate Bob Dole as it's spokesman. It's a good thing that he wasn't elected because it would be kind of frightening to know that a sexually frustrated man had his finger on the nuclear button.

There is a new spokesman for the product now. One can't watch a ballgame now without seeing a phony newspaper headline that ironically reads "RAFAEL PALMEIRO COMES THROUGH IN THE CLUTCH." While it's noble for anyone to step up and be a spokesman about this problem, one has to wonder if the Texas Ranger's star, who'll make $9 million this season, feels his $500,000 spokesman's fee is worth the ribbing that he undoubtedly takes. Doesn't the man make enough money? Do you want the entire country to know that you can't "come through in the clutch?"

According to the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, Palmeiro was the butt of jokes at Pittsburgh's PNC Park when his team, the Texas Rangers traveled there. When Palmeiro was announced as the batter, the organist played "Pop goes the weasel" on one occasion and the PA a "boing" sound effect on another.

The wonders of modern medicine have been able to assist many men with a real problem and that's terrific, but might there be a limit to how potent it can get? It's one thing to have a problem solved, but it's quite another to turn men into "Viagra Falls."

So, what do we do?

Take two, and hit to right.

Posted by dmargarita at 8:34 PM

August 4, 2003

Still The Boss

Last Friday I once again found myself in a fog, but this time I didn't mind.

Thanks to a friend, I found myself with great seats at Gillette Stadium watching Rock and Roll legend Bruce Springsteen. The man known as "The Boss" played a three hour and seven minute show that had the 50,000 plus devoted fans on hand out of their (wet) seats and screaming with delight. If my legs were tired from standing for three hours, I can't imagine how Springsteen's felt after running around and jumping on the piano--- not the normal activities of a 53 year old man.

While there was plenty of rain during the long, traffic congested drive down, the Rock gods managed hold off the precipitation during the show except for an immense fog that rolled in for the latter portion of the show, which even Springsteen couldn't help but comment on. At some point I almost expected Vincent Price or Boris Karloff to walk on stage.

It was my first visit to the new Gillette Stadium but the traffic and parking issues haven't changed a whole lot. The biggest change perhaps seems to be the designated male and female lines of entry for body searches, causing a crowd of men to gather on the other side of the gate to wait for their wives/girlfriends whose searches took longer. These lines may have existed at the old stadium, but I don't recall them being so orderly. Of course no matter what stadium you're at it seems that there are always going to be lines at the concession stands and the men's rooms. I don't have the experience to comment on the women's room situation.

One surprise was finding that when purchasing a bottle of water, the vendor kept the cap and gave you the bottle. Was this to prevent someone from using the cap as a projectile? It seems to me that a small plastic cap could do less damage than an uncapped bottle full of water could.

Springsteen poked a little good-natured fun at the crowd early on.

"I left my pah-ka in the cah in the pah-kin' lot."

His music has long been about the average blue-collar guy and he's often backed it up, including contributions to striking workers in dire financial straits. This kind of makes his nickname "The Boss" somewhat ironic because being the boss would make him management, not labor.

Springsteen has always been politically active. On his 1985 live album, his preamble to the antiwar anthem "War" included the statement "Blind faith in your leaders...or anyone can get you killed."

Apparently blind faith in your rock stars is non-existent, since the U.S. has made many military forays since then. Still, the Boss is not afraid to speak up. On Friday he commented on the current administration's apparent willingness to distort, bend or even avoid the truth with regards to the current Iraq war.

"Demanding accountability from our leaders is our job as citizens,'' Springsteen said. ''Playing with the truth during wartime . . . is always wrong.''

He noted that it isn't a Republican or Democrat issue, though he neglected to say if it was a Green Party, Libertarian, Socialist, Communist, Anarchist or American Nazi Party issue.

I've been to Springsteen shows with people that were just casual fans of The Boss, and they've always had a great time because the man puts his heart and soul into every performance. The obvious joy he has in performing resonates through even the largest venue. Hell, I'd go see Englebert Humperdink perform if I knew he was going to put on a show that good.

Nah....

Posted by dmargarita at 12:56 PM

July 21, 2003

The Naked Prey

I guess I can file this story under “I can think of other things that I’d rather do with a naked woman.”

Several news outlets have recently reported that a Las Vegas company has developed a game in which men can pay $10,000 to shoot paintballs at naked women.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve got nothing against naked women (insert your own punchline here). I’d like to say that some of my best friends are naked women, but that would both be inaccurate and logistically unfeasible. Although, I guess Hugh Heffner could make that claim.

Real Men Outdoor Productions has supposedly developed a game called “Hunting for Bambi,” which you’ve likely guessed by now doesn’t involve blowing the head off of a cute, cartoon Disney character. The game features Vegas showgirls, clad only in sneakers, who are the target for paintball gun-wielding men that, according to some reports, have the option of having sex with their prey after the “hunt.” I imagine this is more tempting than if one were hunting grizzly bears.

For their troubles, the women are paid $1,000 to participate, and those that successfully avoid their predators receive $2,500. No mention was made if this includes a dental plan.

“Paintball” originally began as an attempt to simulate a real war experience without the danger of actually getting killed. Eventually it became a male-bonding experience that fudged battlefield simulations. I doubt that even in the drug influenced, Doors era of Vietnam that soldiers brought a keg of beer with them while out on maneuvers in the jungle.

Naturally, women’s organizations are up in (clothed) arms. A spokeswoman for The National Organization for Women, Rita Haley, told the N.Y. Post that “It’s appalling, and it’s really frightening” as a pellet of crimson whizzed by her head.

There have been no reports of pickets, but I imagine that if the woman participants decided to stage a public protest they could draw quite a crowd.

Women have fought long and hard to be viewed as something other than sex objects, but the battle hasn’t always been successful. A few years back some radio d.j.’s began a campaign that they called “Whip ‘em Out Wednesday.” The idea was that on any given Wednesday any woman seeing a vehicle sporting one of the radio station’s “W.O.W.” bumper stickers, was supposed to immediately bare her breasts to the driver.

Again, don’t get me wrong. If a woman wants to show me her breasts, I’m more than happy to view them, but only if that’s her desire. The notion that a woman must show her breasts on command is atrocious.

“We are not about degrading women” says a “Bambi” spokesman in the Post article, adding “Nobody’s being arm-twisted.” Arm-twisting will probably cost an extra $1,000.

It seems like a huge step backward. We’ve gone from HBO’s woman-empowering “Sex in the City” to the degrading “Sex in the Shrubbery.”

There has been some suggestion that this is a hoax, and a gander at their website (which I won’t aid in promoting) shows some things that seem too far-fetched to be believed. On the other hand, there’s not too much that I wouldn’t believe these days.

And to think, Elmer Fudd was content to merely hunt “wabbits.”

Posted by dmargarita at 11:32 AM

July 14, 2003

Summer in the City

It was America’s birthday and I couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate than to travel to the Big Apple to watch a classic confrontation between the Red Sox and the Yankees in their annual tug of war in a contest of the national pastime.

Unable to get away until Saturday afternoon, I hopped aboard an Amtrak train at South Station, as usual with five minutes to spare. It wouldn’t have been that close but for the gentleman at the ticket window trying to determine all of his options for buying a ticket for some destination.

Getting off at Penn. Station, I make my way to the Sheraton on 7th Avenue. There the man at the reservation desk tells me that I want the Sheraton Towers across the street. My friends, already down for the first two games of the series, have left a room key for me. After checking in I walk to Times Square.

Looking for a place to eat, I wade through the mass of humanity on this hot, humid holiday weekend. The bright lights of the neon signs and giant TV screens illuminate the square to the point of almost being daylight.

The streets seem to have almost as many vendors and sidewalk artists as tourists. I find a nice little Italian restaurant off Broadway. When one thinks of American theater, “Broadway” immediately comes to mind. The second thing that comes to mind is probably “off-Broadway, ” which not only indicates a location but a style of theater, usually avant-garde. As I walk to the restaurant I see an example of this when I notice “The Urine Theater.”

After a nice meal, I head back to hotel and meet up with my friends who’ve just a seen a version of Eugene O’Neil’s “Long Day’s Journey Into Night,” and from there we find a small pub and chat the night away.

On Sunday we have breakfast at Maxie’s in which the pleasure of my open window seat is negated by the fact that I’m crammed into a corner. At one point I drop my napkin, but it stays on the floor since can‘t even move to pick it up. Then we head to Yankee Stadium where the Sox have taken the first two games from the Yankees. I’m excited about the idea of a possible sweep of the Yankees. Naturally, the Sox lose 7-1.

After the game it seems like a good idea to let the subway crowd thin out by stopping for a drink at a bar next to the stadium, beneath the train tracks. On this hot day, the air conditioning in another draw. We might have stayed longer if it didn’t cost $6.25 for a small draught beer.

Back to the hotel to freshen up, than on to the ESPN Zone for dinner. Things are expensive there, but they’re expensive everywhere in N.Y. City. It might be “the city that never sleeps,” but apparently the employees of the ESPN Zone do sleep, as the plug is pulled out of our video golf game in order to toss us out so they can close the place. No matter, there are plenty of other places to close out the evening.

On Monday I head to Leo Lindy’s, next to the hotel for breakfast. This is a legendary New York eatery as evidenced by the celebrity photos on the wall. There numerous quotations and celebrity favorite meals listed on the menu. Apparently Harpo Marx enjoyed cooked asparagus with a scoop of ice cream on top.

The next destiny is a return trip to Yankee Stadium for the final game between the Sox and Yanks. After some confusion about which train to take, we arrive to watch a painful Sox 2-1 loss to the Bronx Bombers in the bottom of the ninth.

New York is known for it’s great restaurants so we decide to check out Rosie O’Grady’s which is right across from the hotel. It’s on the expensive side (even by New York standards), but we figure what the heck, we’re on vacation. It turns out to be worth every penny.

Today we’ve decided to make it a doubleheader and take the subway to Shea Stadium to watch the Mets take on the Atlanta Braves. My only previous experience at Shea Stadium was game in 1987 in which our seats were in the last row of the upper deck. If you’re not familiar with Shea, let me explain that it is right next to LaGuardia Airport. When your sitting in the last row of the upper deck, you can almost grab a bag of peanuts off the table of one of the jets passing right over your head. Through connections, we wind up with pretty good seats. The Braves make three errors but still managed to defeat the hapless Mets.

On Tuesday I’m on my own. My train doesn’t leave ‘till 7 pm so I have all day to tour the city. Again it’s hot and humid, but I suck it up and walk to Grand Central Station to check it out. Unlike Penn. Station, Grand Central survived the ‘60’s & ‘70’s upheaval that was determined to get rid of anything old and rebuild. As a result the magnificent structure is much more simple to navigate than it’s cross-town brethren.

Then I make my way to the Chrysler Building. Completed in 1931 this Art Deco architectural masterpiece remains a tribute to the era great skyscrapers. The interior sports marble walls and a ceiling mural that depicts workmen of the day laboring to build the edifice. The elaborate elevator doors are carved using several different types of wood, far above what anyone could’ve accomplished in Mr. Begin’s 7th grade wood-shop class.

Then it’s on to Rockefeller Center. More specifically “30 Rock” as it’s known, the home to NBC Studios as well as the famous Rainbow Room. One can easily imagine the couples in their wide lapel, baggy pants suits and chiffon dresses making their way in to see “Your Show of Shows” starring Sid Caesar and Imogene Coca. Since fashions always return you may see that couple going in to see “Late Night with Conan O’Brien.”

As much as I’ve enjoyed the sightseeing, I decide that in this hot weather some indoor activities might be more appropriate so I hop on the train to go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, or “The Met” as it’s commonly known. Unfortunately one section is closed off, but it’s air conditioned and there’s still plenty to see.

Still, I want to view things that I didn’t get to see on my previous trip to N.Y. so I get back on the subway and head to The Museum of Modern Art. The train looks like something that Ralph Kramden might have ridden on, in other words, old.

The trip to Queens is a trip through the “real” or non-tourist parts of New York. Imagine taking a train up the McGrath Highway in Somerville. I’m not nearly as dismayed to find out that the museum is closed on Tuesdays and Wednesdays as the woman standing out front who drove up from Philadelphia.

“The New York Times didn’t say anything about it being closed Tuesdays and Wednesdays” she fumed while choking back tears.

It seems like a good idea to get a good meal before I get back on the train so I make my way to Little Italy. Of the numerous empty restaurants (it’s still sort of early) I choose Paesano’s, largely due to the sign that reads “all pasta $7.95.” My warm glass of water doesn’t concern me, but after I’ve ordered my meal, a trip to the men’s room worries me about the hygiene of this place when I discover there’s no soap. None the less, my ravioli turns out to be quite delicious.

After checking out a few galleries I make my way back to the hotel to grab my stuff. It’s not far from Penn. Station and the subway stop is right around the corner. Only when I get there I realize that it’s the entrance for the “downtown” train and I have to have someone direct me to where I can pick up the “uptown” train.

My delay is compounded by the fact that when I get to Penn. Station the setup is a little confusing. Normally I seem to make the train with five minutes to spare, but this time I make it with about 30 seconds to spare. I chose to take the Acela back to Boston which costs more, but is supposed to take three and a half hours. A delay means that it winds up taking four hours, which eventually prompts an angry email to Amtrak.

It dawned on me that as I watched the people of New York go about their daily lives, their daily lives were my vacation. I’ve often wondered what it would be like to live in different places and periods of American history, but as I walked the streets of New York on the Fourth of July weekend I realized that everyday we are living history.

Posted by dmargarita at 4:51 PM

July 7, 2003

Fourth of July Misery

As most of you know, America turned 227 years old this week. Let's face it, she doesn't look a day over 210.

Among the usual rituals, one was the constant stream of information we received about the founding of the country. I have to admit that there was one bit of info that I learned which surprised me. The pseudo-anthem "America the Beautiful" was written by Kathy Bates. Yup, you read that right.

OK, it wasn't written by the Academy Award winning actress, but by a woman named Katherine Lee Bates. Still, she might have been known to some of her friends as Kathy Bates.

Among other things, Miss Bates was a professor at Wellesley College and lived in Falmouth, Mass. and penned the original version in 1893. She re-wrote it in 1904 and produced her final version in 1913. Perhaps this is where Eric Clapton got the idea to keep remaking his old hits.

You probably also didn't know that there are eight verses to it. Don't feel badly if you don't know them. It's kind of like the second line of the Christmas carol "Good King Wenceslas." Everybody sings "Good King Wenceslas looked out, on the feast of Stephan" and then starts mumbling the rest, hoping that everyone else knows the song.

Kathy Bates (the actress) first gained wide acclaim in her Oscar winning role as "Annie" in the movie "Misery." In the film she plays a nurse who rescues a famous novelist from a car crash. To the novelist's horror, she holds him hostage and torments him until he rewrites a novel to her liking (please don't get any ideas, people).

I couldn't help make a connection between the two Kathy Bates' here. What if such a person had existed in 1776 and was a devoted fan of that American man of letters, the author of the Declaration of Independence, Thomas Jefferson?

The scene is winter. It's snowing and Jefferson is taking a carriage ride to Philadelphia to begin work on the historical document. The snow is blinding and while trying to negotiate a turn, Jefferson's carriage loses a wheel and overturns.

Awakening from a deep slumber, he sees the person of Kathy Bates standing over him. Feeling intense pain throughout his body, he inquires as to how he got there. Kathy explains the accident and then gushes to Mr. Jefferson that she's a big fan of his.

"I just loved the Virginia Constitution that you wrote."

"Thanks" replied the Founding Father.

"What are you working on now?" asks his nursemaid.

"I was heading to Philadelphia. We're going to write a Declaration of Independence from Great Britain" explained Jefferson.

Kathy grew uneasy. She had long been a Tory supporter.

"That's not how you're going to write it" she menacingly informed him.

A cold shiver ran down Jefferson's spine.

"What do you mean?"

"Look, I'm against independence. You're going to change it to a Declaration of Dependence" she informed him.

Jefferson resisted. Kathy knew she had her work cut out for her. She took a small wooden board and placed it between the bed-ridden man's feet.

"Kathy, whatever you're planning on doing, please don't" Jefferson begged.

Unfortunately, I haven't seen the movie and that's all I know from the trailers so I'm at a loss as to where to go from here. Perhaps I could make a Sally Hemmings reference? Fortunately, I don't have as disturbed a mind as Stephen King so I can't imagine what happens next...which should be a great relief to the people around me.

Posted by dmargarita at 10:07 PM

June 30, 2003

Guess Who's Going to Heaven

First, renowned segregationist Lester Maddox died. Then, one-time segregationist Strom Thurmond died. Knowing that these things are supposed to happen in three's, I awaited the next segregationist death. Who knew that Katherine Hepburn was a segregationist?

Actually, it was quite the contrary. As a child she helped her progressive parents campaign for civil rights and voting rights for women long before Maddox or Thurmond publicly uttered a sentence about "race mixing."

It's ironic that her death would complete this trio of celebrity deaths since she won an Oscar for her performance in "Guess Who's Coming to Dinner," a film in which she plays a progressive woman whose commitment to civil rights is tested when her daughter brings home her fiance, who turns out to be black. One can only imagine the reaction if Maddox' or Thurmond's daughter did such a thing. It would probably wind up as "guess who's getting lynched."

Now that they are all departed, those who believe in an afterlife may have an opinion on which direction each may be headed, so in keeping with this country's fascination with reality TV game shows let's play "Guess Who's Going to Heaven."

Maddox gained fame in 1964 the day after President Lyndon Johnson signed the Civil Rights Act when armed with a pistol and a pickax handle, he chased away black protesters who had sat down to eat in his restaurant. That's the kind of service that will severely cut down on a tip.

Rather than comply with the law and serve blacks, he closed the restaurant and later sold it. Had he lived a hundred years earlier, I suspect that he would've served blacks, or at least fed the ones that he owned.

The bet here is that Maddox will be taking the express train south.

Strom Thurmond was originally a Democrat but turned against President Truman after Truman had proposed an anti-lynching bill and an end to discrimination on trains and busses. In a time and a region where you might've seen a lynching on trains and busses, Thurmond decided to run against Truman as a States Rights or "Dixiecrat" candidate on a segregationist platform. The platform turned out to be termite infested and Truman won re-election.

Thurmond then made his entrance to the U.S. Senate as the only write-in candidate in history, and set a filibuster record of twenty four hours to protest President Eisenhower's Civil Rights Act that allowed the Justice Department to seek injunctions against local officials who denied citizens the right to vote.

Somehow that's not a speech I can imagine Jimmy Stewart making in "Mr. Smith Goes to Washington."

"Wh-wh-wh-what's going on here? Y-y-y-you can't just have a mixing of the races. Wh-wh-whites and coloreds aren't supposed to be together. Can't you see what happening? Potter isn't selling, Potter's buying! W-w-wait, that's the wrong movie parody. I'm supposed to be doing 'Mr. Smith Goes to Washington' and n-n-not 'It's a Wonderful Life.'"

In fairness, Thurmond became the first Southern senator to hire a black person for his staff and voted for the establishment of a Martin Luther King Jr. holiday. Whether it was a genuine change of heart or political expedience, who can say?

That's a pretty bad past, but if he had a genuine change of heart, he may be eligible for "purgatory."

As for Ms. Hepburn, her civil rights record is previously mentioned. The worst failing that I can discern is her legendary romance with Spender Tracy who, although separated from his wife, never divorced her.

While that would be classified as adultery, the fact that Tracy wouldn't divorce his wife at least assumes a sense of morality on his part. If anything, it was a sin born of love. Other than that, the most horrible offense I can come up with is her 1937 film "Quality Street." Apparently it wasn't a very good movie.

I'm guessing that she's headed in the opposite direction of Lester Maddox.

Of course it's not up to us to make these decisions as to who goes to Heaven, but if I were a betting man, my money wouldn't be on two guys who probably wouldn't watch a movie entitled "The African Queen."

Posted by dmargarita at 11:04 PM

June 22, 2003

Charity Ball

Last week I had the opportunity to go to the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, N.Y. to watch an exhibition game between the Tampa Bay Devil Rays and the Philadelphia Phillies. It was baseball the way it used to be; in a small ballpark, in the daytime, at a reasonable ticket price. Fortunately, the worst aspect of old-time baseball was avoided. The game wasn't played entirely by white guys.

Going to Fenway Park these days is a bit of a hassle. Tickets and concessions are expensive, not to mention parking. One good aspect I've noticed is the amount of charity work the Sox, and in fact all Major League teams do. Unfortunately, one of the charities isn't "let the blue collar guy in for five bucks" night.

There's something a little cheesy about some of the promotions that some companies do with the Red Sox. For instance, Hood has a promotion that gives money to children's hospitals throughout New England. I guess that's a good thing. The problem is that they give money when the Sox strike out an opponent, turn a double play or hit a home run. Perhaps I'm being too cynical, but it seems that it's more about promoting Hood than helping sick kids. A child's welfare shouldn't depend on the fortunes of the local ballclub. If you want to give money, give money.

Somehow it feels like they may be withholding medical care if the team's not performing.

"I'm sorry, Johnny. We'd like to save your life, but unfortunately the team is stressing defense this season and we just don't have the money."

The Red Sox wives have done various charity events the past few years. They've collected canned goods, sold recipe books and been willing to accept monetary donations from fans who were content to just donate cash. It's noble of the wives to help out worthy causes but it's all I can do to pay my own bills, so I'm a little hard pressed to give a $20 check to a woman whose husband makes $6 million a year.

One the most famous instances of charity towards a child is that of Babe Ruth and young Johnny Sylvester. As the legend goes, the youngster was gravely ill when Ruth, prompted by a telegram from Johnny's dad, visited the sick child and promised to hit a home run during a World Series game against the St. Louis Cardinals. The Babe delivered and the boy healed. Johnny grew up to become a successful business man. The Babe went on to become a baseball immortal, hitting home runs, thrilling millions and leaving no speakeasy or brothel unturned in the Major Leagues.

If only the Babe's healing power could've been transported through time. It's great if the Babe helped Johnny recover, but imagine how history would've been different if he could've saved the life of someone more important like Abraham Lincoln. Let's go to Washington, D.C. in the year 1865. Across from Ford's Theater, President Lincoln lies gravely wounded in a bed at The Peterson House when in walks the Babe in a camel hair coat and cap with a beer and hot dog in hand.

THE BABE: Hi ya Prez. I hear you ain't feelin' so well.

LINCOLN: Gee Babe, what are you doing here?

THE BABE: I came to cheer you up and give you this autographed ball. Say Prez, do you have a radio?

LINCOLN: No, Babe. It hasn't been invented yet.

THE BABE: Well, how 'bout a telegraph?

LINCOLN: Sure, Babe. It's a swell telegraph.

THE BABE: You listen to the game today on that telegraph. I'm gonna hit one out for you, Prez.

LINCOLN: Oh, the old promise to a sick kid bit, eh? You know how many times I've done that? I promised one sick kid that if he got better, I'd free the slaves. Who knew some doctor would come along with moldy bread and cure him?

THE BABE: "Great Emacipator," my ass. I'm history. See ya.

LINCOLN: Where you going, Babe?

THE BABE: I hear Jefferson Davis isn't feelin' too good.

No matter what someone's motives are, it's good that people are willing to help out those in need. Right now the Sox desperately need help in the bullpen.

Posted by dmargarita at 3:51 PM

June 16, 2003

Monkey Business

I'm almost afraid to pick up a newspaper these days. War, terrorism, starvation and death fill the pages. The world has never seemed in more dire straights. Fortunately, just when we thought we've had all the bad news that we can handle, there's one story that's come along to bring a smile to our faces. Yes, that ever so lovable disease------monkey pox!

I guess it's technically a serious situation. Though no one who has contracted it in the U.S. has died, it is a potentially fatal illness. Still, even if it were fatal, there would still be something funny about monkey pox.

Late night comics are having a field day with monkey pox jokes and I've come to realize that the basic reason is that monkeys, particularly chimpanzees, are funny.

They are often used for comic effect in TV commercials and movies. You never see a monkey get a serious acting role anymore.

In the '60's after the success of the Beatles, many rock groups took animal names such a The Byrds, The Turtles and even one group that decided to cover all species, The Animals. When some Hollywood TV execs conceived the idea of a sit-com about a rock band, the name they chose was "The Monkees."

It would have made their theme song a little more interesting.

Here we come
Walkin' down the street
Hope we won't be infecting
Everyone we meet
Hey, hey we've got Monkee pox
And people say we're scratching a lot
But we're not too contagious
You won't catch what we've got

Thus I've concluded that all the frightening things in life can be made to seem less so by simply attaching the word "monkey" to it.

Really, would the Bubonic Plague seem as scary if it had been called the "Bubonic Monkey Plague?" The disease was so feared that it acquired the name the "Black Death" in Europe. If only someone then had the foresight to call it the "Black Monkey Death."

Much of the news would be more tolerable if they talked about monkey war, monkey famine and monkey death. Actually, they’ve already started in that direction when they decided that certain military actions were "guerilla warfare."

History lessons would be different if you were studying "Monkey World War I," "Monkey World War II" or the "Cold Monkey War."

The disease has been around in other continents for some time and it is believed to have arrived here when a Chicago pet store owner imported a Gambian giant rat for a customer. It's sad that someone in America feels that we have an insufficient supply or quality of rat here in the U.S. and that we have to import a Gambian giant one to fill the void.

I guess the reason we find monkeys so entertaining is that they remind us so much of ourselves. We share about 98 percent of the same DNA as chimps so it's no surprise that we're so similar.

Now that I'm done writing I can do some much needed shopping. The first stop is the produce section so I can pick up some bananas.

Posted by dmargarita at 4:33 PM

June 9, 2003

The Odd Couple

Many of you in Stoneham may be aware that Neil Simon’s “The Odd Couple” is playing at the Stoneham Theatre. There’s been another “Odd Couple” of sorts in the news lately----Martha Stewart and Hillary Clinton. One is poised to go to prison, and the other, in the opinion of some, should probably already be there. I’ve tried to imagine that if they ever went to prison together it would beg the question “Can two despised women share a cell without driving each other crazy?”

Dee de-dee de-dee de-dee....

Stewart is on the verge of being “sent up the river” due to her alleged insider trading. Clinton was investigated for her work at Rose Law Firm that ironically, involved the Madison Guaranty Savings and Loan. It could only be more ironic if her work had involved the Unger Savings and Loan.

As for who would be who, I think that’s pretty easy to figure out. Martha would be the neat Felix Unger character, what with her constant cooking, cleaning and her remarkable ability to turn worthless household items into a useful tool. This would come in handy when she turns a bar of soap into a “shank.”

Actually, John Dillinger was years ahead of her when he escaped from jail by shaving a bar of soap into the shape of a gun and covering it with black shoe polish.

No doubt that Hillary would be the sloppy Oscar Madison, always making a mess by leaving Rose Law Firm billing records lying around.

I can see the two of them now. Hillary lying on her bunk with her N.Y. Yankees hat reading the Wall St. Journal and Martha in her neatly pressed prison denim shirt, dusting away.

Hillary’s bunk would have the blankets constantly disheveled while you could bounce a quarter off of Martha’s bunk.

Of course, they should be entitled to all the same privileges that all the other prisoners get. Hillary should be allowed her conjugal visits with her husband Bill. He might have to explain to her however, why he’s always “accidentally” winding up in the wrong cell.

“I feel your pain.”

If they were sent to Attica State Prison, this would be convenient for Bill who would only have to drive a couple of hours across the state to visit from Chappaqua.

Naturally their time spent during the exercise period would be vastly different. Hillary, who years ago showed a curious ability to make $100,000 on a $1,000 investment, would probably be hustling some of the other inmates in a poker game, while Martha would be off by herself in a corner doing isometrics.

Their escape attempts would differ. Martha would try to bribe the guards with a chocolate mousse desert topped with whipped cream and a cherry. Hillary would try to bribe some officials to get a pardon.

Perhaps they would get some outside help. Each of them might have someone bring a cake with a file in it. Martha would probably send it back to cook another five minutes and Hillary would claim she doesn’t know where the file is.

In another twenty years the two of them would be perfect to be cast in another Walter Matthau-Jack Lemmon related movie parody---“Grumpy Old Women.”

Posted by dmargarita at 4:49 PM

June 2, 2003

There's Still Hope

The year 1903 saw the birth of two influential forces of the twentieth century. One was aviation, courtesy of the Wright brothers, and the other was Bob Hope, courtesy of Bob's parents.

The legendary comedian turned 100 years old last week, although at 100 the only thing he entertains these days are notions and ideas. For those of us of a certain age, Hope was a constant presence on TV while we grew up.

He is perhaps most celebrated for his U.S.O. Tours in which he entertained millions of U.S. servicemen and women, many of whom would die in battle shortly thereafter. From World War II to Desert Storm, Hope made his way around the world to bring jokes and Hollywood starlets to "our fighting men." Frankly, I was hoping that after he was no longer to entertain troops, we would be no longer able to have wars.

It's hard to imagine a war without Hope, so I kind of wondered what it would be like if he had been there at our first war. So now I present to you "Bob Hope's Revolutionary War U.S.O. Tour."

ANNOUNCER: Ladies and gentlemen please welcome the Master of Mirth, the Colonial Kidder, Bob Hope.

BOB: Hi everyone, this is Bob "for Poor Richard's Almanac" Hope here. It's great to be here at Valley Forge. Valley Forge is an old Indian name...it means "we couldn't afford to go to Florida for the winter." I haven't seen this much snow since the Continental Congress talked George Washington into becoming the Commander-in-Chief of the Army. Originally, Gen. Washington planned to have you guys spend the winter in Miami but then he got better rates here in Valley Forge. I haven't seen anyone make such a bad decision about changing camps since Benedict Arnold. That's the difference between George Washington and Benedict Arnold. One's getting a city named after him and the other one got a breakfast named after him. Of course I'm talking about "Eggs Benedict"...or as they call them now in Philadelphia, "Freedom Eggs." I hear that last week the British sent Benedict Arnold out to the henhouse to get some eggs, but then he turned the henhouse over to a fox. It's rough here at Valley Forge. You can't even get basic oral hygiene products. The men can't get dental floss and Gen. Washington can't get sandpaper. Well we've got a great show for you. Right now I'd like to bring out a little lady who designed a flag for you folks, and when you see her you'll see why she's raised a lot of flags. Please welcome Betsy Ross.

(She enters to whistles and cheers)

BOB: I just want you boys to remember what it is your fighting for. Say Betsy, do you have much of a chance to follow current events?

BETSY: No Bob. I'm pretty wrapped up in the flag.

BOB: Yeah, that's pretty much how I like to imagine you. What made you think of stars and stripes for the flag design?

BETSY: Well, I've always loved stripes.

BOB: Do you love stars?

BETSY: C'mon Bob. You're not that famous.

BOB: Well that's all the time we've got. I'd like to finish off with a little song for you.
(sings) Thanks for the memories, for freezing off your butts
and having lots of guts, for standing up to old King George
whom we all know is nuts, thanks so much.

Good night everyone.

Happy birthday, Bob.

Posted by dmargarita at 2:29 PM

April 28, 2003

Happy 50th, Double Helix

You all may have heard the news that this year the discovery of the DNA double helix turns fifty. I just want to assure you that there's no truth to the rumor that discovery of the DNA double helix has left his wife, bought a little red sports car and moved in with his 25 year old receptionist.

I was never much of a science student; for that matter I was even worse in math. So with all the hubbub about the 50th anniversary of the discovery of DNA double helix, I thought I'd do a little research to figure out what it all meant and write about it. Well, that and the fact that I can't milk anymore stories out of my trip to Ireland.

According to a Nicolas Wade article in the New York Times, on February 28, 1953, two young scientists named James D. Watson and Francis Crick, walked into a dingy pub in Cambridge, England and announced that they had discovered the secret of life. This likely didn't get them any free drinks since many such claims tend to be made in bars, along with pronouncements like "I can kick anybody here's ass!"

Such a venue was not uncommon for scientific announcements. Madame Marie Curie is believed to have announced her discovery of radium in an Au Bon Pan.

The piece goes on to say that years later Crick's wife, Odile (scientists get all the babes), told him that she didn't believe him.

"You were always coming home and saying things like that, so naturally I thought nothing of it" she is quoted as saying.

There's your typical man for you. Get a few pints of Guinness in you and stumble home and tell the wife that you've discovered the secret of life.

"What's her name?"

"I swear, honey. I was out discovering the secret of life!"

The American Medical Association's web page contains much information about DNA, calling the discovery of the double helix "one of the most significant discoveries of 20th cenrty (sic) science."

I don’t know who writes their web page, but upon seeing their attempt to spell "century" I can see why they became doctors instead of English professors.

Much of this has been in the news because of the current airing of a PBS TV program on Rosalind Franklin, whose x-ray photograph of the double helix molecule allowed Crick and Watson to discover the nature of the double helix. In other words, a couple of guys used the brain of a woman to further their careers long before Dolly Parton sang about just such a situation in the song "9 to 5." You can add your own joke about Dolly Parton and the double helix here.

So what is a double helix? Perhaps we can infer a definition if we break it down. "Double" means "two" as in a pair, which brings us back to Dolly Parton.

"Helix" is defined in my Webster's Ninth New Collegiate Dictionary as "an ornamental volute," which means I have to look up "volute."

"Volute" is defined as "a spiral scroll-shaped ornament forming the chief feature of the Ionic capital."

OK, now I've got to look up "Ionic."

"Ionic: of or relating to Ionia or the Ionians."

There, that clears things up.

So, what is the double helix?

Damned if I know.

Posted by dmargarita at 10:30 AM

March 6, 2003

Reading Time

Just when you think you’ve heard it all....the press is now reporting that Madonna has signed a contract to write a series of children’s books.

This is not the pop singer’s first foray into the literary world. You may recall that in the early ‘90’s she published a book titled “Sex.” You can probably guess that it wasn’t about genetics.

The book featured an explicit discussion of the subject as well as nude photos of Madonna, including one where she hitchhikes naked on the side of a highway in L.A. Perhaps the saddest part for Madonna was that no one stopped to give her a lift. Maybe that’s a commentary on L.A. because I would imagine that in most cities in the country a naked female hitchhiker would probably be offered a ride from somebody.

Early on the singer garnered attention by appearing scantily clad in many of her videos. Then with her book she bared it all. At that point there was nothing left for the public to see except for her internal organs.

Trying to imagine if Madonna had written some of the classic children’s books that we all grew up with, I think “Fun with Dick and Jane,” “Hop on Pop” and “The Giving Tree” would have entirely different meanings.

Considering her previous literary effort, it’s a little tough to picture Madonna writing a children’s book. Of course if everyone tried to go top the other end of the literary spectrum it would make for some interesting reading. How about Dr. Seuss writing a Madonna type book? Can’t you just imagine the late Theodore Geissel, a.k.a. Dr. Seuss standing next to a highway hitchhiking, wearing nothing but that red and white striped stovepipe hat?

Reports are that she’s been trying to tone down her image now that she’s got two children, including a son named Rocco that she had with her husband Guy Ritchie (Rocco Ritchie?). She’s probably a very good mother and probably won’t be dangling her kids over a balcony like Michael Jackson.

So I couldn’t help but wonder what Madonna’s children’s book would be like if it were written in the style of Dr. Seuss.

“Getting Nude with a Dude”
By Madonna

I love to be nude
when I’m with a dude
It’s better than food

I don’t mean to be rude
or crude, or even lewd
I just love to be nude

Some think that I’ve had sex that’s gay
or slept with half the NBA
It doesn’t matter who I’ve wooed
as long as I can just get nude

I’ve had so many darn requests
to show the country both my breasts
I guess they know my attitude
that I’m so happy when I’m nude!

I think my talk of being nude
is just so worn out and well chewed
I like this rhyme but must now shake it
there’s no one word that rhymes with ‘naked’

Madonna could’ve succeeded on her musical talent alone, but posing nude definitely boosted her career. In this country it seems that if one is willing to pose nude or have an affair with someone famous, it will lead to increased celebrity. Now it also makes one an author.

Posted by dmargarita at 4:45 PM

March 3, 2003

There Goes the Neighborhood

It is a sad day in the Neighborhood. Mr. Rogers is dead.

The gentle, beloved children’s entertainer passed away on Feb. 27 at 74 from stomach cancer, leaving generations who grew up watching his PBS show “Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood” to mourn and generations of comedians who parodied him to scramble for new material.

Rumor has it that Mr. Rogers was so despondent his last few months that he attempted to commit suicide by throwing himself in front of The Neighborhood Trolley but was uninjured. Sorry, sorry, sorry. If anyone could forgive me for that joke, Mr. Rogers could.

“Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood” spawned many imitators and parodies, including Sidney Poitier’s dramatic, hard-hitting civil rights version “They Call Me Mr. Rogers.”

One of the most familiar sights on television was that of Mr. Rogers entering his “house” and putting on his trademark cardigan sweater and sneakers. Rogers reportedly turned down several sneaker endorsement contracts that would have allegedly teamed him with Michael Jordan. One ad campaign supposedly featured Mr. Rogers dunking over Jordan.

Mr. Rogers ceased taping his show in 2000 after thirty-plus years on the air. Without his presence in the Neighborhood, things seem to have gone downhill. Let’s take a look at the Neighborhood and it’s citizens to see how things have changed.

King Friday XIII never seemed to have very good luck. Many in the royal family were implicated in various tabloid scandals. The King abdicated his throne to marry an American divorcee, Miss Piggy from Sesame Street. After much public outcry, the King explained that he was abdicating the throne “for the puppet I love.”

Queen Sara Saturday had been divorced from the King after he publicly began romancing Miss Piggy. She became involved in a number of affairs with various celebrities including Kermit the Frog, The Cookie Monster, Alf and Charlie Sheen. She is currently in seclusion in a villa in Switzerland.

Troubled by the marital problems of his parents, the once obese Prince Tuesday has loss several pounds due to his diminished appetite. He now subsists on basically one meal per week, eating only on Wednesday nights. The heir to the throne used to gorge himself every evening but Prince Tuesday will now only eat on Wednesday because Wednesday is Prince Spaghetti night.

Mr. McFeely, the Neighborhood postman has been incarcerated since 2001, when McFeely, distraught at Mr. Rogers’ retirement, gunned down several co-workers with an AK47.

Henrietta Pussycat and X the Owl were known as best friends on the show and the true extent of their friendship became known when a tabloid reporter got a hold of an intimate videotape of the couple and circulated it on the internet. The explicit nature of the video confirms the long-held suspicions of how the owl became known as “X” the Owl.

The mischievous Lady Elaine Fairchilde has since had a sex change operation and is now “Lord Elton Fairchilde.”

Mr. Rogers is gone now, but thanks to the miracle of reruns he will always be our neighbor. Still, the ‘hood won’t be the same without him.

Posted by dmargarita at 2:43 PM

February 24, 2003

Face the Nation

We're on the verge of war. The economy is in a shambles. We've had the worst winter in years. So, lets get to the question that America really wants to know: What's with Michael Jackson?

When "The Weird One" formerly known as "The Gloved One" or "The King of Pop," appeared in court to testify against his record company, Sony, many gasped at the sight of his mangled mug. I have to admit, I was one of them.

His lawsuit claimed that Sony failed to properly promote his last CD, "Invincible," resulting in disappointing sales. The fact that it was lousy apparently never seemed to be considered a possible reason for lagging sales.

Jackson claimed that he was the victim of racism by Sony, intimating that the company didn't promote the CD because he?s black. The only problem with this argument is that he hasn't been black in fifteen years. It's a difficult charge to make when no one knows what race you are, or for that matter what species.

Jackson went from a normal looking small black child, to a good looking young black man and then apparently was given WAY too many coupons for a discount plastic surgeon. He now looks like a character from the 'Star Wars' bar. The website www.anomalies-unlimited.com tracks the singer's changing appearance with photos from 1979 to the present and the transformation is frightening.

Jackson claims to have only had two plastic surgeries but the photographic evidence would seem to contradict that. His father was reportedly abusive and used to call Jackson "Big Nose" when the singer was a child. The psychological damage is evident as the singer has gone from "Big Nose" to "No Nose," now sporting two holes in what would normally be the nasal area.

NBC's "Dateline" featured an entire show on Jackson's face (hard hitting journalism, indeed), inviting a New York plastic surgeon to comment on photos of His Weirdness. Jackson claims to have Vitiligo, a skin lightening condition that the doctor declares to be the most extreme case she'd ever seen, suggesting that it's likely he's bleached it. On the other hand, he can probably pick up a ton of cash promoting Clorox.

To what degree Jackson has been intentionally promoting the weirdness to keep the public intrigued is unknown. Remember the photo of him sleeping in a hyperbaric chamber, to supposedly stay young? At least they told us that's what a hyperbaric chamber does. Clearly no one could've gotten that far in the house and taken that picture without his consent.

Ah yes, the Neverland ranch. Who wouldn't have amusement park rides in their backyard if they could afford it (not to mention getting it past the building inspectors)? Jackson, who faced child molestation charges in the past, admitted to having young boys sleep in his room. Even if it were completely innocent, why would any parent even take the chance? Are some people so desperate to associate with the famous that they would potentially put their kid in harm's way? It would seem so. Perhaps these parents can arrange some unsupervised visits with Richard Ramirez, the "Night Stalker," the serial killer who terrorized California in the 1980's.

It's sad that the man who once tried to buy the bones of the elephant man now looks like the kind of physical curiosity that only he would pay money to own. It's also sad that I've spent some of my time even thinking about it.

Posted by dmargarita at 3:26 PM

February 10, 2003

Pet Peeves

Reality TV is all the rage these days, but it's not just limited to dating and competition shows. The Animal Planet channel has their own version of a reality program called "The Pet Psychic." I swear, I'm not yanking your leash.

Sonya Fitzpatrick is the host of the show, and she claims to have a special connection with animals. Using her telepathic powers, Sonya communicates with troubled beasts on behalf of their owners to solve whatever anxieties the pet may feel. Of course pets don't have the luxury of lying on an analyst's couch like Woody Allen, pouring out their frustrations.

"There's this female dog on the Upper West Side whom I meet in Central Park everyday. I asked her if she wanted visit a local fire hydrant with me and she said 'no.' She's a bitch---literally."

I think I'm somewhat of a pet psychic. My dog, Root Beer, perhaps Stoneham's best known canine, often communicates with me and I know exactly what she means.

When she stands at her food dish and barks she's saying "I'm hungry."

When she stands at the dining room door and barks she's saying "I want to go out."

When she stands on the porch and barks at the door she's saying "I want to come in."

When she barks at the Tampa Bay Buccaneer's captains during the Super Bowl pre-game coin toss she's saying "The Raiders don't stand a chance against the Buc's defense. Don't be a schmuck. Bet Tampa Bay big."

I should've listened to her. Just because I can read her mind doesn't mean I thought she knew what she was talking about.

Checking on the Animal Planet's website, I discovered the episode guide for this coming season. I've decided to test my pet psychic ability to see if I can determine the problem. So, here are the episode listings and my conclusions.

Episode 201: Sonya uncovers the secret shared between an owner and her horse.
Conclusion: The owner is a direct descendent of Catherine the Great.

Episode 202: A fearful feline with the shakes and an anxious dog with the wets get counseling from Sonya.
Conclusion: Of course the cat has the shakes. Cats generally fear dogs, and I don't imagine this one's too crazy about being around a dog that's always wetting. I wouldn't. As for the canine, I recommend doggie Depends.

Episode 203: Sonya mends broken relationships between a Welsh Corgi, a monkey, a horse and their human companions.
Conclusion: Sure, this sound like the premise to a joke. "A Welsh Corgi, a monkey and a horse walk into a bar." I suspect a love triangle here. The Welsh Corgi and the monkey are having an affair and the horse is jealous. The human companions are worried about what the neighbors will think. Clearly they could all benefit from group therapy.

Episode 204: Animal emotions run high for a territorial iguana, a jealous parrot and a pampered pig.
Conclusion: Naturally the parrot is jealous of the pig being pampered. That's why he keeps yelling "Polly wants to kill you. Polly wants to kill you." The iguana is upset because they're both on his turf.

Episode 205: Sonya explores the pet memories of a lonely gibbon, a fearful cat and a cagey dog.
Conclusion: Didn't these people watch episode 201? I'll say it again. CATS DON'T LIKE DOGS. Of course this cat is fearful. Get him away from the dog and he'll relax. Although this dog is cagey, so the cat will have to keep an eye out. Perhaps they can pair him up with the gibbon. The gibbon can scare the dog away and would now have some company.

Episode 206: Sonya counsels dogs with a dangerous habit; an antisocial bird; a horse with a wild past; and a dog behaving strangely around a new family member.
Conclusion: Unfortunately, we've seen a rise in recent years in the number of dogs smoking. Sonya should suggest "The Patch" for the pooch. The antisocial bird might benefit from "tough love." Let him spend some time in prison in a "scared straight" program, and he'll really know what it's like to be caged. I think this is the horse from episode 201. He'll have to be told that the era of "free love" is over. As far as the dog behaving strangely around the new family member, I'd have to meet the new family member to see if the dog's behavior is justified.

Episode 207: Sonya is back on the road in this episode. This time she's in Hollywood meeting the pets of stars and star pets in their own right.
Conclusion: Sonya has a pretty good gig.

Posted by dmargarita at 10:21 AM

January 21, 2003

Reality Check

Just when you thought that television couldn't possibly get any more stupid, the folks at Fox managed to reach a new high, or low, rather. They have brought us a TV show called "Man Versus Beast," which, as the title suggests, pits humans against animals in competition. Perhaps the weirdest competition pitted 44 little people vs. an elephant pulling a DC-10 for a distance in the Mojave Desert. What are they smoking in the Fox programming meetings?

It must sound like a drunken barroom conversation.

"Who do you think can pull a DC-10 across a field faster, an elephant or 44 little people? Wait, I gotta go throw up."

Some of the other competitions include hot dog eating champion Takeru Kobayashi attempting to out-eat a Kodiak bear. Fortunately the bear was caged or he would've been eating the hot dog eating champion.

There was a sumo wrestler having a tug-of-war with an orangutan. They didn't humiliate the orangutan by making him wear one of those sumo diapers.

What happens when a world class sprinter races a giraffe? Does anybody care?

Let's not forget the obstacle course race between an armed forces member and a chimpanzee. Given a good performance the chimp may end up commanding a battalion in Iraq.

Of course the airlines have been struggling for a while. Since they're not flying as many routes, I guess one way for them to make money is to rent their planes out for dwarf pulling.

Reality shows are all the rage. A constant theme for many of them is fixing people up. Such shows as The Bachelor, The Bachelorette and Joe Millionaire have garnered high ratings. The latter is a show that involves a lot of good-looking people, where in the end nobody looks good.

There's only one place where the networks can go now. They should combine the Man Versus Beast format with the dating shows. I can see it now, the next reality show: The Mating Game.

HOST: Hi everyone I'm Jim Lang and welcome to The Mating Game. Let's meet our bachelors first. Bachelor number one likes to shed his skin every couple of months and can unlock his jaw to swallow a rodent whole. Please welcome Pat Python.

Bachelor number two's feathers are often used for dusting and when he gets frightened, he hides his head in the sand. Please welcome Oswald Ostrich.

Bachelor number three once worked as a test subject in a laboratory and likes to use grass stems to fish for termites. Please welcome Charles the Chimp.

Now it's time to bring out our lovely bachelorette. She?s an actress who's studying to be a waitress, likes to dance and considers he