The Ghosts of Philly

I saw the ghosts of Philly pass me by tonight. And I don’t mean Ben Franklin and Billy Penn. I’m talking about the more recent kind. The ghost of Bednarik. The ghosts of Schimdt and Lefty. Of Mo and the good Doctor. Of Clark and Parent…”Only the Lord saves more…” and tonight He did. Tonight He saved a city of 1.5 million starving sports fanatics and countless others across this tiny planet.

I was 9 years, 304 days old on the night of May 31, 1983. I remember the brooms they brought back from the Forum…mostly. Go back 2 years, 223 days to the night of October 21, 1980 and all I can remember is not being able to stay up late and watch the game. I remember listening as hard as I could for some faint sound…and then my parents screamed. And I knew. And I slept.

I’ve seen the footage of the parades. Hell, I was at the first Flyers parade in ’74 at the tender age of 8 months and have the home movies to prove it. I won’t be at this parade. Life and location prohibit it. But something is different now. Today feels different. Now I can rest. The ghosts of Philly can rest. And I can sleep like I haven’t slept in 25 years. But then again, can anyone really sleep like they did when they were 9?

Congratulations Phillies! Rest, Philadelphia…

Expletive *^%#$ Deleted

If it couldn't get any $%^&* worse.  I mean, seriously, that @%^*& little @#$%^& is going to $%^& me and then %^&@#* go and %^&*  that #$%^&  @*&^$% and the *#$%^  with the #$%^& and then come over to my house with &^%$# that @*&^%& and her!  Are you #$%^& kidding me?  Not to mention the other &^%$# that I found with him and his @#$%^& punk of a #$%^&.  The two of them go and @#$%^& with the *&*&^ president, my boss!  @#$$%%^ that.  And then they @*&^%$ him?!  No way, not this time.  I don't #$%^& think so.

Blahg Entry

Words flow, hopefully, and continue on in this blank white space with purpose, or not, for the reason that I give them, me, myself, being originator and word giver of this point in time and place in, er, time so that this blank white-ish space is no longer and from here on now considered to be full of text and thusly a new entity in which value is perceived, found or created by you or others or none at all for that matter besides I myself the writer, giver of text to blank and not so blank spaces herein and outside this blahgspot which is thereby contained whole-ly and unwavering-ly within this so called world wide web or internet or whichever term is cool for your purposes of reading, surfing and generally spending, wasting or inventing time, homework, real work or play, playgrounds and otherwise fun environments for yourself, friends and strangers in and around your world, neighborhood and home.

They Must Be Stopped!

If anyone was wondering what the hell is wrong with Hollywood, I have one thing to point out:  "Meet The Spartans" was the top grossing film over the weekend.  Are you @#$%^&-ing kidding me!?!? It beat out Rambo: see Needless/shameless remakes and/or sequals to  revitalize a career or make a quick buck--to be posted at a later date.  Back to topic:  So they ("www.imdb.com/name/nm0294997/"  and "/nm0783536/") wrote terrible scripts for the Scary Movie franchise (okay, maybe the first one was okay, a stretch) then proceeded to rape Hollywood for ridiculous amounts of money by being paid for their 'work' on Date Movie, Epic Movie and now this tragedy! Have any of you had the unfortunate experience of seeing any of these films?  And I thought Scary Movie 3 was bad until I saw Date Movie.  I said to myself, looks interesting, and Alyson Hannigan is in it, she's cute, maybe it'll be funny.  I could not have been more wrong and my eyes hurt to this day and my soul is a bit less shiny because of that horror of a waste of my time.  And I heard Epic Movie was just as bad.  In no way could anyone have paid me to see that one.  Now they have another one?!?!  Who's to blame!  I want to know, I want to go and shake down that executive that keeps stealing our souls and dumbing down society with the production of these so called films.  It also angers me because I am trying to make it as a writer and these guys are "writers"?  Yeah, right.  They are hacks and must be stopped. It has been a long time since the genius of movies like Airplane! and The Naked Gun.  Those movies were silly, of course, but it came from real comedy not from inserting a cheap Britney Spears joke into the middle of a 300 spoof.  I only know that because I saw the trailer and cringed and died inside a little.  Mel Brooks is turning over in his grave somewhere.  Not that he's dead, but maybe he wishes he were.  He made some of the best movies of this or any other genre.  I defy you to name a better movie (of this genre) than Young Frankenstein.  It can't be done.  That movie is brilliant!  It's a sad day when the kids of America grow up thinking stuff like Date Movie and Epic Movie are funny.  And it'll be an even sadder day for Hollywood if these jerks get another movie deal. But they will because those soulless executives don't care about anything but making a few bucks and sadly these movies make a few bucks.  I hate Hollywood.

Whatever

Whatever is right, man.  Oh, and a bit of fortune telling here, "Whatever " is going to be my most frequently used blog title ever!  I've decided that to be so, just now.  So, like, whatever, ya' know man? It's all a bit of nonsense anyway because it's all whatever all the time, that is, whatever happens, there it is and it's whatever it is because if it's not whatever then it's what?  or which?  or whom?  Wait, I'm confusing myself and getting away from whatever it was I was talking about.  Oh, right, it was whatever I was talking about.  Follow?  Me neither.

LA Lakers 124, Philadelphia 93

So, over the Christmas holiday, I get this invite to a Laker game. I say, "Sure, cool, never been to a Laker game before" or something to that effect, I don't remember exactly what I said and didn't record it so it's on memory and was a few weeks ago so I did the best I could.  So I go to the game, wait, back up, the guys that gave me the invite come to pick me up from work to go to the game.  We were drunk, wait, back up a second, I work at a bar, okay, that's far enough.  Dinner, beer, whiskey, then we go to the game.  Wait, no there was another bar in there before we walked two blocks in the pouring rain (Rain! I know! In L.A. how cool!)to the Staples center.  Now, I've been to plenty of arenas in my day, seen a lot of sports.  Never been much of a basketball fan, being more partial to football and hockey and besides, Lakers fans are pretty annoying, scratch that, L.A. sports fans are those annoying on the bandwagon, what team is hot now kind of fans but I guess that fits in a town with Hollywood as it's major draw.  What have you done for me lately?  Nothing, so back to the game.  Have you ever gone to a game and spend the whole time there enjoying yourself and then at some point, some knucklehead(or four) walks in halfway through the game, stays for about ten minutes and then leaves?  I mean, who paid for those "VIP" tickets?  Not me.  Whose season tickets did you steal? I don't care.  When I go to a game, I want to see the game, it's the point of going, right?  After all, you're not saying, "Hey. Let's go down to Corporate Sponsored Arena this evening, pay for parking, and a ridiculous entrance charge, get a $7 hot dog and a $12 beer and walk around and look at the wonderful architecture some overpaid designer came up with and then go home and call it a night."  Well, long story long, I was that knucklehead.  I saw all of about 5 minutes of the game, much to my dislike, but my "cohorts" were much more interested in finding another bar and we did, and then another.  Eventually getting home drunk is fine once a year or so, believe me, getting old is not fun sometimes, but I wanted to see the f-ing game, man!  Go Sixers.

**Disclaimer**

Well, more of an explanation I suppose, about what this whole thing is.  I mean, you know it's a blog, you're not dumb, you got here.  But what I'm talking about is what this whole thing IS.  It is what it is and that's all I'm going to say about it.  Well, okay, more about what it is:  a semi-occasionally, mostly conscious record of some words on a 'page' (I know, there's no page, it's all 'digital' or 'virtual' or choose whatever buzzword you like) and overall it's just rambling about that which is on my mind.  Not that anything could be physically on my mind, okay, brain, except my skull and skin and hair and I'm getting tired of this train of thought so maybe it's just better to go to bed and get some good rest so tomorrow I can come to my computer, click little buttons, play with electricity in a relatively safe manner, watch pretty lights on the screen and get some thoughts out through the fingers onto the little off-white dirty keys and into cyber-land-space-world for you lovely people to view at your leisure.  It is.

This is the end....

I sit and think about what it all means to start a new year but then I could sit here all year until it's a new year again and then I'd be a year behind.  Not that it's terribly difficult to ponder the start of January, I mean, it's only a month, a cold one at that (relatively due to location of course) and really kind of the getting over it month.  What other month follows such grandeur of "The Holidays".  January is the Monday of the months.  The one you can't believe came all the way around again and damn, I have to start all over again!  But this is a new beginning, turning over a new leaf, or an old one if you turned over said same leaf last January in which case it's probably dried up and brown and you should think seriously about getting a new one, hence the phrase.  Unless, that is, brown truly is your color, then you should pick out your leaf for next year at this time and wait until, well, you get it.  But then the phrase would be "picking out a new leaf" instead of "turning" and picking out is not nearly as fun as turning over.  I pick that car, I pick those pants, I pick that drink  OR  I turn over that car, etc....Hey! See?  Much more entertaining.  

And so it goes.  Welcome to the last Blog you will ever read until the next one you click on.  This is the end...