Fields Where Sunlight Streams

MLB is using the studio version of Land of Hope and Dreams, ie the crappy verison, to promote its playoffs.  Okay.

Space Race

Neil Armstrong wasn't buried until today? Really?

Of course, he still beat George Jefferson into the ground, but still...

15 Years Ago Today

Obviously, my thoughts go to the Royal Wedding from last year.

I remember getting up at 4am to watch Charles and Diana's wedding, and here I am watching his son do the same thirty years later, at what turns out to be almost exactly the same age as my own father was (him that day 38 years, 7 months, and 17 days, me today at 38 years, 9 months, and 15 days.)  Throw in the world's collective memory of "I watched this boy grow up, from being born to his mother's funeral and now this morning," and it's easy to get caught up in things. 

If Life's for Living, What's Living For?

I think we should all be artists. And we should all be thrown like eggs against the frying pan, and all of our art should ooze out like water across a table when it hits the pan.  Some will be like eggs, young and bright and brilliant. The rest of us will just sputter out; we're just  water. But it's the eggs that will live forever. - XMASTIME

Just saw this via Facebook

Barry Minus Barry

People are giving Clint Eastwood shit for his scolding Obama via an empty chair routine, but I think they're being too hard on him.

Obviously, it was an homage to the Garfield Minus Garfield meme. I mean, lighten up people! It's called art!

Don McLean

When you have roommates, how badly you have to shit is in direct proportion to the odds of one of them being in the bathroom, times the length of their visit. Exempla gratia: my growing a small tail* = someone in there slowly clipping their toenails, performing their pre-shower toilette while singing all the words to American Pie. - XMASTIME

Interesting bit HERE about the Day the Music Died:

The phrase “The day the music died” is familiar to us today as shorthand for the 1959 plane crash that killed Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens and J.P. “Big Bopper” Richardson. But when Don McLean coined it in his epic pop song, it was new. So was the idea of nostalgia for the musical past as subject matter for a song.

“Buddy Holly didn’t matter to anyone when I wrote the song,” McLean told me in 1995. “He was long dead and forgotten.” McLean saw Holly’s death as a means to frame his ideas about what had happened to America during the 1960s. Rather than spelling it out clearly, McLean laced his lyric with cryptic, evocative imagery. “I was trying to create a rock ‘n’ roll dream sequence,” he said. “But it was more than rock ‘n’ roll. I was trying to create this American song which connected the parts of America that mattered to me, starting with Buddy Holly.”

* copyright Op, 2000

Thoughts, Barely, by Xmastime

I totally feel like I have an end of the summer, Labor Day weekend one-act play in me.

Nobody Puts Sniffy in a Corner!!!

Now that she's been spurned by the RNC, how amazing would it be if the surprise speaker at the Democratic Convention was...Sarah Palin!!!!??  Now THAT would be "going rogue"...

Today in Stupid Sports

THIS is being called the stupidest play ever in football:

Kent's Andre Parker recovered a blown punt return after the ball grazed a Towson player, only to return the recovered fumble toward his own goal. The only thing that stopped him from scoring a safety for Towson? Towson's punt return team, who foolishly tackled him before he could score them two points.

Remind me of James Beverly intercepting a pass and taking off in the wrong direction; topped only of course by Marvin Croxton shooting the ball into the wrong basketball goal.

Didn't

Clint Eastwood celebrate the big GM Bailout earlier in the year?

Live-blogging Romney's speech

9:07pm: Am I early?
9:10pm: Does every Republican speaker have a "my parents were immigrants, and if you vote for me I'll stamp out immigrants!" story? Do I even hafta plug in a "my parents were chickens, and you better vote for the Colonel" bit here?
9:11pm: I don't know who this speaker is, but if it's not Manny from Modern Family I'm gonna be disappointed
9:14pm: Did I miss the big speech? Hall is empty; it's like when Bruce plays Marys Place. Piss break!
9:16pm: I haven't seen this much disinterest in a speech from a kinda-hot blonde chick since the last time I was on a plane about to take off.
9:17pm: Apparently, Romney abolished cronyism...in Boston. Right. In other news, cheese steaks have been abolished in Philly. Cough.
9:22pm:  black woman democrat is now onstage to talk about Romney.
9:22:12:pm: She's never heard of him.
9:23pm: Hiyoooo!  ;)
9:32pm: Sally Strothers at the podium. Feels like a reach.
9:36pm: Wow a U-S-A chant has broken out!  Take THAT, Obama!!!
9:38pm: fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck....Mike Eruzione is on Team Romney? That sucks...like finding out the Tooth Fairy works for the IRS. Ugh.
9:39pm: I'll be honest - Mitt having Mike Eruzione speaking blows me away. Goddamimt.
9:40pm: Hey, surprise, he's a limp, shitty speaker. Christ, can speaking for Mitt Romney make the "Let's get ready to rumbllllllllllllllllle!" guy fucking mail it in? Wow.
9:41pm:  I don't think I've seen a group of speakers give less of a shit about someone they're talking about since I saw 12 Angry Men.
9:45pm: Oh good, an Olympic athlete from Utah talking about 9/11. Of course. Reminds me of those housewives in Thailand talking about landing on Omaha Beach that grisly day in 1944. Bout as plausible as some American talking about Jesus dying, I reckon.
9:47pm:  ATTN JEFFREY BROWN FROM PBS: It's not "Mike Agroochi-ani"!!! It's fucking Mike Eruzione! Fucking asshole. Fuck you.
9:50pm:  Ten minutes til' Mitt Romney comes onstage. I haven't seen this much excitement since the other day when they were breaking out the new fries at Mickey D's. Seriously, we were all up on the balls of our feet for that one. And now, thanks tho Mitt, and Amerian Exceptionalism, it's like I'm right back there again. You know, at McDonalds. In line, by the cash register.
9:52pm:  VIDEO OF ROMNEY!
9:55pm:  Missed the video so far; in my defense, the scene in Empire Records when Coyote Shivers rocks Sugar High was on, so. I don't think there's a jury in the land that will convict me, suckahs!
9:57pm: We seem to be going through their romance...
9:58pm:  ...back in the 1960s...
9:58pm:  Well, they loved each other, and their kids were a "handful." Sounds like SOMEone's qualified to be president of the United States of America!!
9:59pm:  Ohoh...here comes the vid of his dad, George Romney...who came from Mexico...in other words, Mitt Romney would not exist in a parallel world, since as president he woulda told George Romney to go back to Mexico!
9:59pm:  Theme of this film seems to be "Mitt is one cheap fuck...really, really chinsy!" That's great. In other words, every one of our grandfathers who ever insisted we turn the fucking heat down should of course be elected to rule the free world. Of course.
10:00pm:  Before we start, I'll say this: I don't hate Mitt Romney like I did that piece of shit John McCain. Romney sucks, but he's inconsequential.
10:02pm:  Clint Eastwood!! Surprise speaker!! As in, I'm surprised he's still alive!
10:08pm:  Why is Boo Radley onstage talking?
10:09pm:  Clint's talking to an empty chair. Seems fitting.
10:10pm:  i seriously can't wait for the Onion headlines that will come from having a skeleton talk before Romney
10:10pm:  Clint saying "maybe it's time for a businessman to take over" makes people jump out of their seats, applauding...I guess they forgot about George W. Bush's "Business Degree from Harvard." That went well, didn't it?
10:14pm: I'll be honest - Clint Eastwood was worse than I ever coulda wished for. Wow.
10:14pm: Marco Rubio's up!
10:15pm: He's making Cheech & Chong jokes!  Yes!
10:18pm: Marco Rubio's a snooze so far...Grandpa's life sucked, mine is awesome. Yada fucking yada. Just once I'd like to hear "my grandfather had a shitload of money and then I fucked it up, no reason." Right?
10:19pm: "THESE United States" is only a phrase desperate candidates make, n'est-pas?
10:21pm:Why is Rudy talking at the RNC?
10:23pm: Jesus...this is the most boring Latino motherfucker since Taco Bell. I mean, come the fuck on dude.
10:25pm: Rubio is like a black guy that can't dance, or a white guy that can't calculate a restaurant tip to exactly 12%. No fucking heat, no feel. Nothing.
10:27pm: His mother was this, his grandfather was that...how great would it be for a speaker to keep going, back like 20 generations? "...he was alchemist, his father was an alchemist, he had an uncle who was a falconer...I think his brother did witchcraft...""
10:30pm: After 20 minutes of immigrants succeeding, Rubio just said to the crowd "that's your story!", to which the crowd replied "um, like no, it's not..."
10:31pm: Rubio: "Tomorrow is better than yesterday!"...doesn't that seem impossible to prove? Even remotely?
10:33pm:FINALLY! President Romney...what the fuck is that song that's playing as he shakes hands with a bunch of corpses? wtf?
10:35pm: This is depressing..."Romney trying to make his way through the enthusiastic crowd....okay, he's though...that was it."
10:36pm: Romney's onstage!! It's like the Beatles on Ed Sullivan!
10:37pm: Well, not THOSE Beatles! On THAT Ed Sullivan Show!
10:38pm: He couldn't make it 6 seconds without mentioning his boyfriend Paul Ryan? Really? Hey, Mitt - we see him wearing your letter jacket already!! We get it!
10:39pm: That which unites us is stronger than that which divides us, and America is a land of opportunity. Got it.
10:40pm: Shit, he's still talking? I thought that was it?
10:42pm: USA! USA! USA! filling the crowd.  Mitt, ever the man of the people, quickly cuts them off to continue with his dull fucking speech. Wow. Quite a player.
10:43pm: He keeps barking "we deserve better!", but doesn't really say how/why.
10:45pm: Using Neil Armstrong's death for applause is a really cheap fucking shot. Fuck you - if it were up to you, NASA woulda been cut and we wouldn't have made it to the fucking moon. Fuck you - I sleep well tonight knowing Neil Armstrong would be horrified to think of you as President.
10:48pm: Here we go with his youth zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
10:49pm: Cute story about how his father gave his mother a red rose every day, except for the fact that most Americans simply can't afford to do that.
10:49pm: Are we really hearing the "how the young Romneys made it as youngsters, overcoming the incredible odds of absurd wealth and affluence" story? Wow.
10:55pm: This is embarrassing to watch. I've seen more excitement from water-logged Band-Aids I've pulled off...
10:55pm: HERE we go, Mitt as an investor!  Bain Cpaital!  Much more interesting than his family bs!
10:56pm: As for Bain Capital, again, how they somehow transcended family money and connections is amazing. Take a bow, boys. You'r efucking amazing.
10:59pm: Succeeding is about dreams, which Obama doensn't get, but Romney does....along with Steve Jobs, who might as well be giving this speech.
10:59pm: Jimmy Carter joke ZZZZING!!! Wow!  Say, Mitt, why not ask the crowd "why don't they use the black box on the plane??!?!?!"
11:01pm: "Finally, we can restore America", according to Mitt...no Injuns, niggers are enslaved, and bitches best shut the fuck up!  USA! USA! USA!
11:04pm: Sorry, got a beer and took a piss, what'd I miss?
11:04pm: Oh, gee, whaddya know: no regulations, no taxes, and replacing that most fascist of fascisms, Obamacare. Got it. I'm caught up.
11:09pm: He's whipping the crowd up now, reminding us that while he wants a jobs tour, Obama went on an apology tour. To, you know...somebody, I guess. (Craig? Jerrry?)
11:10pm: FINALLY, some backbone against Russia! Thank you, Mitt! Because in all of our history, we've never stood up to, you know, the Soviet Union! Wow!  You're AWESOME!!!!
11:11pm: Jesus, I'm reallly trying hard to stay awake.
11:14pm:  Christ, it's like he has TWO baby arms

Unfortunate Juxtaposition is a Funny Thing

Memory Lane: I Am Going to Die a Big Fat Fuck

Paul Ryan's Big Speech

Paul Ryan's speech last night was so packed with lies that even his own party's propaganda machine openly and gleefully bragged about it, without any fear whatsoever of so many lies having any consequences at all. I'm guessing Paul Ryan ended his speech with the exact same number of voters liking him as he began it. I can't imagine he picked any newcomers up, but the complete comfort with open-face lying is a fair signal that nobody's worried about turning his fans off at all. "We're not even gonna pretend to not be bullshitting you any more." He could've just as easily walked onstage and did balloon animals or urinated on a photo of Obama with the same result, either way. All words are the same when on the march to get that uppity n---er out of The White House, I suppose.

Planes

The Miami Dolphins' plane apparently backed into another plane on the runway in Dallas. For which you are correctly thinking it somewhat Costanzean:

GEORGE: You know Keith, what I've always wondered, with all these ball clubs flying around all season don't you think there would be a plane crash? ...
KEITH: (to Jerry) Do you perform anywhere in new York right now?
JERRY: I'm performing in this club on the east Side. You should come in.
GEORGE: But if you think about it...26 teams, 162 games a season, you'd think eventually an entire team would get wiped out.
KEITH: You know, I live on the East Side.
JERRY: I'll tell you what, I'll give you my number and uh, just give me a call, tell me whenever you want to go.
KEITH: or maybe just to get together for a cup of coffee
JERRY: Oh. that would be great.
GEORGE: Uh, it's only a matter of time.
KEITH: Who's this chucker?

27

Here's an ode to the magical age of 27:

My father had his own theory. "Twenty-seven is the height of your personal identity. For some people, that's right before they marry or settle down…" He explained that when you begin to make mature choice—to stick to a job, to stick with a partner—you end up making compromises. Your identity shifts. At twenty-seven, you're free.

I can't remember a damn thing that happened when I was 27. Nothing noteworthy, anyway. I think I played CBGBs at 27, but that might have actually been 26. The millennium happened when I was 27. That was a thrill a fucking minute. I think I discovered the Food Network at 27.

Quite a ride.

Paragraphs

Best opening paragraphs HERE.

Tough to beat A Tale of Two Cities, of course. Also The Stranger ... or, as I call it, L'Etranger. Metamorphosis might get the bronze. Best of any paragraph HERE. Coming in fourth would prolly be my novel of course, Williamsburg Rats:

CHAPTER ONE

“Rats!”

“What.”

“Rats!”

“What.”

“Rats!”

“What.”

“Rats!”

“What.”

“Rats!”

“What.”

“Rats!”

“Shut up.”

Sweet, Delicious Irony

Bit on Salon HERE re the GOP's convention hypocrisy, including my two favorites:

1. An anti-government, pro-free-market “We Built This!” celebration held in a publicly funded stadium.
2. As politicians call for austerity, they are partying on the taxpayer’s dime.

Can we just end these stupid four-day infomercials anyway? Wtf?

RNC

Is the phrase "corporate cronyism" ever followed by anything other than "at its worst"?

Dear RNC:

The idea of Romney makes me nauseous enough - do they really need that wavy blue background making me seasick too?

NASCAR, Child Rape, Oh My!

Sean Phipps, he of the artist formerly known as the David Magee Show, has an article listing Five Way to Enjoy a NASCAR Race even if you think it's the dumbest thing in the universe.

Interestingly, being duct-taped by your neighbor as a child doesn't make the list. Hmm.

I'm Confused

By this:

- First, you have to get past the name. JJAMZ -- pronounced with a stutter on the "J" -- sounds more like a Nickelodeon TV show than a hipster supergroup. Yet its musical pedigree is impressive, boasting members of Maroon 5, Phantom Planet, Rilo Kiley, Bright Eyes and The Like.

Can a band be called a "supergroup" if the members all come from bands that completely suck?

Oh, wait - my mistake.

Sippy Cups Suck

Dude HERE on how much sippy cups suck:

And my kids change their taste in cups every five seconds. "Wahhhhh wahhhh I don't like the unicorn sippy cup anymore!" YOU SHUT YOUR DIRTY MOUTH. When I was a kid, we drank out of old Tropicana frozen juice cans and we liked it.

Once a week, I will give my son a cup of milk, only I'll forget to put the little valve into the top of the sippy cup. And when that happens, it's a fucking disaster zone. It's like the milk truck scene in Three Kings. It just gets everywhere. I hate sippy cups.

One thing I don't miss about my Manny tour of duty is the fucking sippy cup situation:

 No matter what sippy cup I pick out it's the wrong one, and of course the one he insists on having, the fucking top is nowhere to be goddam found. 

I do, however, miss my elite Sunday Sippy Cup Club.

Chris Christie et al

Yet another thing that annoys me about these conventions is when did saying something nice about your mother become applause-worthy? Gee, you loved your mother, what a noble fellow you are!!  I mean, wtf - just once, I'd like to hear a politician say "yeah, was my mom a pain in the ass."

This of course reminds me of the 2008 Democratic Convention:

Another thing I've noticed during these little film clips before the big speakers is that none of them had any relatives that complained no matter how bad it got. Depression, WWII, 30 kids, working 9 jobs at a time, nobody's complaining. And if you did when you were a kid, you'd get your ears boxed. Oh yeah, and they always believed in you, no matter what. I'd like to change that; if in 2012 I'm the Democratic nominee, I'd like to fuck with people a bit; the clip might go like this.

"...my grandparents met and got married, then the war came...boy, did my Grandfather not wanna go to that. "It sounded really, really hard!!" he'd tell me, still angry. Fought and bitched to get outta going, but they finally came and got him I guess. Oh sure, the Depression, the War, they talked about those days a lot...how much they hated those days, having to work all the time and stuff..."why did all this happen to us? why not somebody else?" they'd ask me. "Why couldn't that have happened to your generation instead?" they'd say to me..."Always look for the shortcut"...so yeah, they were pretty miserable to be around...my parents, let's see, my Dad won $600 on a scratch ticket when I was 2 and he left, so I never even knew him...I'm like thousands and thousands of other kids out there, raised by a single mom...who worked 2 days a week, from 10am to 3pm at the local library...we'd say Mom, why not get another job so we can eat? and she'd always look us in the eye and say the same thing: "oh, HELL no." She talked a lot about what a rip-off it was that my Dad got to leave and left her with the kids...boy, did she cry and whine a lot, that's for sure...the only time she ever lightened up and stopped complaining was sometimes just to mess with her we'd tell her that Dad called and was coming back; boy, she'd light up, sprinting to the phone to call the library and tell them where they could shove that job of theirs...we'd let her know just in time that we were kidding...anyway yeah, she never came to any of my games throughout high school..."Tuesday night game? I hafta work on Thursday, so no."...there's a sacredness to being a single mother, as some of us know...I can still remember her late at night, coming into my room as I was trying to sleep, sitting on the side of my bed and patting my head lightly, running her fingers through my hair and softly telling me to not worry, everything would be alright...if I would just ask to borrow some money from my girlfriend, "that rich bitch ain't gonna miss it!! Just ask!!"...boy, did she whine about things a lot...anyway, it's a thrill to be here tonight accepting the nomination...oh, I have no idea if she's even here tonight, you can look I guess...hey, like she said just this morning on the phone, "you'll blow it anyways"...

HA!

How shitty must it feel to be Tiki Barber right now? After running his mouth like an asshole about Eli Manning, the Giants win the Super Bowl the minute he leaves the team. Then, after a much ballyhooed media career launch on the Today Show he quickly gets drummed out for sucking at it, and then along comes his old teammate Michael Strahan getting the most coveted of coveted media slots, replacing Regis.

And oh yeah, in the midst of all this Barber became public enemy #2 ("thanks Michael Vick!" - Tiki Barber) for leaving his pregnant wife to bang some other chick.

HA!  Fuck yeeeeeeeeew, Tiki!!!

The Keynote Speech

For one, I felt like the hall was only half full the entire time. Was weirdly empty. Felt like a $12 cable access show.

Secondly.  Rex Ryan Chris Christie is a great speaker, period. Oh, everything he said was bullshit, but he's a great speaker.

HOWEVER.

At no point during his speech did I think that he had ever, ever, even remotely come into contact with Mitt Romney. Whenever the camera cut to Romney and his wife, Romney looked like one of those old guys in The Muppets, Statler and Waldorf, vaguely nodding praise at Fozzie Bear as he sweated out another set of hackneyed riffs. No connection. At all. If they've met each other, I'd be surprised.

RNC Irony du Jour

Via HERE:

10:38: Gov. Chris Christie (R-NJ) is touting the fact that his dad went to a publicly funded university, on the publicly funded GI bill, and that his mom traveled on publicly funded transportation. 

Sigh.The chickens rooting for The Colonel, as per usual with this crowd.

State du Moi

Apparently, if Every Rose Has a Thorn comes on the car radio, I don't turn it off. Self-awareness can be crushing.

In Defense of Serge Bielanko

You can listen to Serge HERE re: the photo of him and his kid on the porch.

Look, Serge did nothing wrong - it's just a picture of a dad and his daughter, who yes is al fresco but is only three years old, hanging out on a porch swing, laughing and enjoying themselves. The mistake Serge DID make was he forgot the Golden Rule: when kids are naked, cover them up with a beach ball:

That's all -  a fun, colorful beach ball. That's the deal we have made with each other as a society, and Serge made temporary leave of his senses and forgot to Photoshop a beach ball into the picture. That's his crime, and if that's the worst thing he's ever done, I mean, camon.

Of course I can relate a bit to what he's going through, having gotten some pretty bad comments from the peanut gallery when they thought I was feeding The Short Bus Vodka:


Or screaming obscenities at him and The Major:

You Asked for It, You Got It

The 20 Worst Hipster Bands.

I listen to none of these bands but yes, they do all look douchey. I see MGMT is on  here, so The Short Bus might not be forced to lose his fucking shit on somebody:

In trying to branch out a bit from my "I refuse to listen to music made after 1985" old man stance, I have been trying to listen to "what the kids are into these days."

First of all, let me say this: it is inconceivable to me how those fucking sissy pricks MGMT have somehow become famous. That is astounding; they fucking make those fucking pussies Vampire Weekend or whatever sound like AC/DC loaded up on a pool of fucking gin. Unreal. They reek of "all our dads are rich and have bought us onto tv." They fucking suck so bad that anyone who fucking likes them has an open invitation to come to 100 Metro, where The Short Bus will kick your fucking ass.

"MGMT? Really? Come here, you fucking pussy."

Well.

Meanwhile, on CNN.com, this is a few headlines below Tagg Romney saying his dad is "an emotional guy." Hmm. I wonder if that would be the case if the soldiers were black, or Muslim. Or the president white. Interesting.

I'm Still Melting With You, Apparently

Look, I ain't saying my high school girlfriend and I are getting back together. She's happily married with a coupla kids. Alls I'm saying is, just like a coupla weeks ago, I had a dream about her last night (no pervs, not THAT kind of dream!!!), and then what was the first song on the radio when I got into my car this morning?

I mean, at some point she and I will hafta succumb to the wishes of the universe, right?

Please Oh Please Oh Please Oh Please!!!

"Surprise" guest speaker at the RNC...oooooooh, could it be Sniffy Wiffy?!??!?!?

Of course, prolly not - I'm never that lucky. But how great would it be if she popped out onstage, dressed in the exact same outfit as last time and pulled a Jack Paar, "...AS I was saying before..."  Place would explode. If she's not scheduled, keynote speaker Rex Ryan Chris Christie should sneak her into one of his fat folds and then unfurl it like a flag so she comes rolling out to the mic. Awesome.

Thoughts, Barely, by Xmastime

Once upon a time there was a man that lived by the river. He heard a radio report that the river was going to rush up and flood the town. The report said that the whole town should evacuate immediately. But the man said, "I'm religious, I pray. God loves me. God will save me." But the waters began to rise. A man in a rowing boat came along and he shouted. 'Hey! Hey you! You up there. The town is flooding. I can take you to safety.' But the man shouted back: "I'm religious, I pray. God loves me. God will save me." A helicopter came hovering overhead. A guy with a megaphone shouted. 'Hey! You there! The town is fully flooded. Let me drop down a ladder and I will help you to safety.' But the men shouted back that he was religious, that he prayed, that God loved him and that God would take him to safety. The man then drownned. When he got to the pearly gates of St Peter, he demanded an audience with God. 'Lord,' he said, 'I'm a religious man, I pray. I thought you loved me. Why did this happen?' God said, 'I sent you a radio report, a helicopter, and a guy in a rowing boat. What on earth are you doing here?'

If the Republicans take back the White House this November, I can totally see God  throwing up his hands at the Democrats and giving up in total despair, saying "I sent you Sarah Palin, Mitt Romney, and then a SECOND motherfucking hurricane!"

Withhold, Bitches!!

Apparently, the women of Togo are calling for a sex strike to force their men into taking action against their president, all John Q and shit  reckon. Before you chuckle, this article claims that sex strikes may actually work. Which is why I stand by my call to action for the women of America against the GOP!

As a bonus, because I'm in a good mood, I give you this old gem of mine on the subject. You're welcome, Earth.

I notice now that the woman who claimed that women should expect sexual assault in the military and just shut the fuck up about it already is name Liz Trotta, which if garbled correctly sounds an awful lot like Lysistrata.  Just saying.

Xmastime 11am Radio Alert!!!

Longtime Xmastime buddy Serge is gonna be on WGN in Chicago to talk about the uproar over a picture he posted on his website, tune in to listen HERE.Make up your own mind whether Serge is a

1. Pedophile
2. Pedophile with somewhat questionable fashion taste
3. Pedophile with, dare I say myself, as it's not my place, a gorgeous head of flowing locks for hair

Here's a picture of me and the girl on the porch, yelling "PIZZA'S HERE!"

"31 wins and an album on Capitol for Denny McLain."

Last night at the...Flying Squirrels...game I was pleasantly surprised by Denny McLain being there signing autographs. I have no idea why Denny McLean was in Richmond VA on a random Monday night (well, to sell his newest bio, I guess), but I was pretty thrilled to be meeting Major League Baseball's last (prolly ever) 30 game winner.

Once he realized who I was, he insisted on becoming a member of the Xmastime #1 Club.  Congrats, Denny!

A few innings later I was going up to get some...Squirrely fries...and noticed that nobody was around him. He was just sitting there looking bored to death. There's no way I'm not going up and chatting some more with Denny McLean, I decided, and I walked up to him and asked if it was true he'd grooved a ball in to Mickey Mantle during Mickey's final at-bat at Tiger Stadium. His face lit up and he told the story:

McLain had grown up idolizing New York Yankee center fielder, Mickey Mantle, who entered the game tied with Jimmie Foxx for third place in the major league career home runs list. When Mantle came to bat in the eighth inning with McLain and the Tigers holding a 6-1 lead, McLain intentionally threw a soft pitch directly over home plate. Mantle hit the ball for his 535th career home run putting him in sole possession of third place on the all-time home run list, behind only Babe Ruth and Willie Mays. As Mantle ran around the bases, McLain stood on the pitchers mound and applauded. The next batter, Joe Pepitone, waved his bat over the plate, as if asking for an easy pitch of his own. McLain responded by throwing the next pitch over Pepitone's head.

and then blathered on for a bit about how great Mickey was, how all the players worshiped him, and then said if I bought his book ($15) he'd throw in this picture of Joe Pepitone:

I got roped a bit into buying his book, but it was totally worth it to hang out for a few minutes with a living legend who personally knew Mickey fucking Mantle.

Today's Racist Barry Post

A few years ago I wrote this about Obama, in reference to his telling kids to pull up their goddam pants:

What other President have we ever know would've said that? First of all, they wouldn't have been aware of such a thing since I'm guessing they would think that low-riding jeans wearers don't vote, so fuck 'em. And if they WERE actually forced to say something, you now it'd be some rambling, vague "I love America!" nonsense about family values, faith, God, blah blah blah blah. But here we see someone who can walk into ANY community and speak to young people, and say exactly what anybody else would wanna say: "Hey - pull up your fucking pants!!"

And so I see this this morning:

 How great would it be if again plays on his own race and speaks frankly by looking into the camera and saying "Will you ni&&ers get the FUCK outta New Orleans already?!!?!?" 

Is That a Fucking BALD SPOT?!?!?!!?!?!

Lance Armstrong

Nobody could give two shits what I think about Lance Armstrong  People have been asking me what I think about Lance Armstrong giving up the fight re: doping charges. First of all, it's hard to put into words how little Americans give a shit about cycling, as I sexily wrote here. Secondly, when it comes to "non-real" sports, ie not football/basketball/baseball, I don't really care about things being on the up & up as much as I'm curious to see something freakish happen. Such as winning seven Tour de Frances, or eating a live mouse on tv. Whatever. Was he doping, wasn't he, I have no idea, other than if it's true he's been doing it since 1999 and won seven times, you can be for damn sure every other cyclist has been doing the same shit in an effort to catch up to him.

But I do believe he's giving up the legal fight purely because he's tired of having to deal with it. He's already convicted in the minds of those who want him to be guilty, so fuck it. No matter how many times it comes back he's not guilty there'll be people who won't believe it, and then countless more rounds of accusations. All fora sport none of us really give a shit about. And it's not even like football or baseball, where there's legitimate concerns about millions of kids juicing because the pros do - are there really kids doping so that one day they can be a great cyclist? Yes, if one of the 17 kids out there dreaming of becoming Lance Armstrong somehow freakishly makes it to his level he might feel compelled to juice to compete.

Sometimes, enough is just fucking enough already.

Golden Girls

While this line from this post makes me wince in its record-breaking gayness:

Rare is the man most aware he's lived through a Golden Age...and I am that man.

The term "golden age" reminds me of my old thesis re: BH 90210 having THREE different golden ages! Unprecedented!

I assume most true 90210philes claim their high school years to be the show's golden aged peak - maybe due more to nostalgia than actual watching - but here we are, sophomore year of college, and we seem to have entered A SECOND Golden Age: Steve's running rampant at the KEG House, Brandon is Presnit and Valerie just showed up. And, AMAZINGLY, in the single episode I'm watching right now, the Peach Pit After Dark AND the evil Ray Pruit have been introduced. Unbelievable. Are there other shows with more than one true "Golden Age"? Usually a show's wheelhouse is fairly easy to define - are there any shows as wildly popular as this one where an argument may be made for several different eras?

Sigh. (kisses)

A Tribute to My Favorite Sesame Street Character

Via THIS INCREDIBLE CLASSIC, bitches:

- 9:02 of course the first boos of the night come from the crowd because Rudy doesn’t believe every citizen should be awarded a personal gun arsenal at birth. They just asked everybody how many guns they each have – oh my god, Rudy just answered “Anderson, I have…ONE gun! TWO guns! THREE guns……”  

And of course this one. Sigh. Memories!

Just now The Short Bus and I were watching Sesame Street, and The Count started singing one of his counting songs. You know that shit, like "ONE! TWO! I LIKE YOU!! THREE! FOUR! MY HYMEN IS TORN!!" Anyway he's bopping along to it, and then I start singing along with the numbers and he cuts me a look. Turns out the kid is annoyed that I know my numbers, and he doesn't. Which is funny, cause it's never bothered him that I am 5 feet taller than he is, or that I can read, speak English, vote, get my own food and don't need another person to wipe my own shit off my ass. But me knowing numbers before him? That pisses him off. Hmm.

Well. This Is New to Me.

From CNNSI:

Joe DiMaggio singles in the first inning of a 1938 game against the Senators. Photographers are crouched along the first base line, which was legal back then as long as they remained in foul territory.

Like any baseball fan, I've seen about a million pictures from the olden days. Yet I think this is the first time I've ever, ever seen photographers right by the batter. Whack, dog.

The GOP

Sully says HERE what I have about a thousand times on Xmastime about the Republican Party:

This is indeed a party more extreme than any other right-of-center party in the West, a party whose social policy is dictated by the Bible, whose foreign policy is directed by the furthest-right faction in a foreign country (Israel), and whose economic policy is based on the notion that if you cut taxes massively and boost defense spending and only cut entitlements in twenty years, we can best tackle the debt. 

But its candidate - who has ensured there is no daylight between him and the more rabid parts of his party - is neck and neck with a president still in the world of reality. The GOP's degeneration is its own fault; but that such a degenerate, irresponsible, ideologically extreme party is now, I believe, the favorite to win this election is a reflection not on them, but on us. 

It's easy to roll your eyes at the ridiculousness of these people and wait for its "inevitable implosion", but come November at least 50 million people will pull the lever for Romney. Astounding.

Minor League Baseball

Going to my first Richmond Flying Squirrels game tonight. At which, presumably, much time will be spent wondering why the fuck they're called the Flying Squirrels. Is this really what Richmond's known for? Not the "Richmond Hey Remember When We Had Hundreds of Thousands of People Killed So We Could Keep Black People enslaveds"? Or the "Richmond Fuck It, Don't even Try to Find a Good Slice of Pizzas"?

Husky Starts the First Grade...

...in a snappy little pair of chinos guaranteed to get his ass beat about three seconds after walking in the door. Rage on, young Husky!

Maybe your buddy The Count can save your butt?

History Perspective

We have what, the Mona Lisa? the Sistine Chapel? and then Van Gogh (although my favorite is Monet.)

The point is, in our century, its The Beatles. period. The Beatles are our own Mona Lisa. They are our Sistine Chapel, our Mona Lisa.  They'll be remembered forever.

NYC

(as per today)

Even though I'm glad I'm gone, a day doesn't go by I don't wish I was back in New York City...Brooklyn...Williamsburg...100 Metro, even.

I know those days are gone. And they're not coming back. But I'll always be thankful that I spent ages 25-39 in Williamsburg - it was the perfect time to live there. Rare is the man most aware he's lived through a Golden Age...and I am that man.

Xmastime of things past:

There is a dried-out patch of dirt I'll be drawn back to before I die; a cluster of heat, frustration, and poverty. No matter how modern I make myself, I'll only ever be that boy in the dirt, fighting off gnats while pretending to be somebody: pretending, but never actually dreaming.

I'm already getting nostalgic about leaving because that's just how I am; I'm a real pussycat when it comes to that kinda shit. But since I'm leaving on my own terms, having gotten what I wanted, I can look back with no regrets. Well. Not NO regrets. But let's be honest - where I came from, if you told me that someday I'd eat a steak at Peter Luger's, play a set at CBGB's and bang an Asian softcore porn star in a vestibule next to the Turkey's Nest, I'd think you were making up stories about some superhero on Jupiter. So fuck it.

Sistatime! Mouse Update, 10:39pm

as per HERE.

Just received a text from her:

I just added feta to the trap. Son of a botch is going down!

Apparently, the mouse in Sistatime's apartment has a somewhat refined taste when it comes to his cheeses, the poor bastard.

Johnson & Johnson

Years ago HERE I labeled Samuel Johnson "the original gangsta" while admiring his "pay me, motherfucker!" mentality when it came to the arts; just now I read a great quote from London mayor Boris whatshisface on Johnson's popularity:

When a magistrate was droning on and on about how he had sent four convicts to a penal colony in Australia, Johnson said he wished he could be the fifth...he was, in other words, not only funny but rude, and that helps to explain his popularity then and since.

"Boswell passing me in the charts this week? Oh, HELL no!!!"

Rats

Sistatime! has a mouse in her apartment and, after setting up her camera to videotape it's comings and goings, has decided to get an old-fashioned snap-trap and kill the fucker tomorrow. Of course, this means GUESS WHO will hafta go dispose of the twitching mousey body should it actually happen? She's worried about the fucker overtaking her apartment, which of course made me think of Mr. Fantastic:

i heard him before i saw him and then i saw him scurry under the refrigerator. i chased him around the kitchen and tried to lure him into an overturned trash bin which of course proved comically futile. the kids were with me that night and were sound asleep; i cringed at the thought of him bare-assing around the corner and finding refuge in the bottom bunk, nestling deep into the knotty plume of my daughters hair. i kept at it until i trapped him under the sink. i ducttaped everywhere that could be ducttaped and went to bed to the sound of working teeth.

the next day there was a hole in the bag of bread that sat on top of the microwave. the day after that i found the first cluster of droppings. the day after that the tiny motherfucker figured he had me licked and made no secret of his presence, navigating the grate that backs the refrigerator with great excitement whenever its motor kicked to life. the sound of ittybitty claws on metal is not one i particularly care for. the kids took to calling him mr fantastic.

mr fantastic and i learned to live with each other until i saw him cartwheeling around the brightly lit living room. look at this brazen motherfucker i said loud enough for him to hear. i then told dude to Watch Out! a mouse is anything but sanitary, after all, and i allowed myself the unpleasant thought of him and his buddies playing my records.

the next day i laid out two glue traps and told the kids what to expect. for two days my son gleefully reported no mouse. yesterday i went for the kill and put the trap on the microwave with a martins potato roll. at four in the morning my daughter crawled into bed with me, it was then that i heard the panicked squeaks that reminded me of a chihuahua tethered in the rain.

im a city kid which means i aint used to killing things bigger than a cockroach. to my great shame i once left a mouse to die a slow, agonizing death from starvation on a glue trap in a garbage bag. not this time. up from bed i jumped and found poor mr fantastic desperately trying to flee on wobbly, twiggy legs. i dropped him and the trap into a plastic bag and then triple bagged the thing. (typical: with the second bag i trapped too much air and had to strenuously unknot then retie.) i went into the bathroom, closed the door and repeatedly bashed the bag(s) against the wall. on the last swing the outer bags tore away, and only lady providence with whom i barely have a nodding acquaintance kept the final bag from opening up and spilling mr fantastic chunks all over the walls and floor. i took the bag outside and placed it into the trash, strangely satisfied. ive not yet told the kids, but im sure theyll notice the missing trap. the other will stay right where it is, without bread.

Today.

I'm really glad I moved, but this is one of those days I miss New York like fucking hell, and curse myself for wondering when it will be that I return once again.

As for me, the seven extraordinary days of Apollo 13 were my last in space. I watched other men walk on the Moon and return safely, all from the confines of Mission Control and our house in Houston. I sometimes catch myself looking up at the Moon, remembering the changes of fortune in our long voyage, thinking of the thousands of people who worked to bring the three of us home. I look up at the moon and wonder, when will we be going back, and who will that be?

Question.

Wait, wha - Hurricane Isaac is "targeting" the Gulf Coast? Like, on purpose? What is this thing, Jaws IV?

Marah NPR

Here's the mp3 for the NPR report last week on Marah's Mountain Minstrelsy project, and the church they're recording it in.

PIZZA du jour

Post HERE about pizza going the way of Chipotle/Subway:

All these places share in common constructing the pizzas assembly-line style in front of the customer, lots of topping options (most with a locally-sourced, sustainable, or organic spin), making dough or sauce in house daily, quick bake times in 500-800 degree ovens, and pizzas priced under $7.

The entire article is rendered invalid, of course, since not once does it make a reference to Kramer's brilliant "make your own pizza" idea from over two decades ago.

KRAMER: Oh, hey guys. Man, I'm telling you. This pizza idea, is really going to happen.

GEORGE: This is the thing where you go and you have to make your own pizza?

KRAMER: Yeah, we give you the dough, you smash it, you pound it, you fling it in the air; and then you get to put your sauce and you get to sprinkle your cheese, and they - you slide it into the oven.

GEORGE: You know, you have to know how to do that. You can't have people shoving their arms into a six-hundred degree oven.

KRAMER: It's all supervised.

GEORGE: Oh, well.

KRAMER: All of it. You want to invest?

GEORGE: My money's all tied up in change right now.

KRAMER: No, I'm tellin' ya, people, they really want to make their own pizza pie.

JERRY: I have to say something. With all due respect, I just never.. I can't imagine anyone in any walk of life, under any circumstance, wanting to make their own pizza pie.. but that's me.

KRAMER: That's you.

Pasta Love

I've posted many times my story about choosing to write about making a tennis racket out of spaghetti as a classroom punishment instead of the usual "I will not sniff my own farts..." 500 times or whatever, which, by the way, killed when I read it in Mr. Russell's class the next day, and just now I've stumbled upon the story of Michael Fishback and the, you guessed it, spaghetti-powered tennis racket. This woulda been about 7-8 years before I was in 7th grade, so now I wonder if Mr. Russell thought of Fishback when daring me with the assignment. Ha!

Quote du Jour

Vis this article:

“Vice president: it’s the perfect Gen X job, isn’t it?” said Elizabeth Wurtzel, the author of “Prozac Nation,” her 1994 memoir of disaffection that was hailed as a Gen X bible. “To have no responsibility, to have only the perks of what was left behind by the responsible people.”

FULL DISCLOSURE: Paul Ryan is the first personal on a national ticket born in the same decade as me. Which, in a word, sucks.

M.H. Abrams

Just a month ago I pointed out oh-my-fucking-god that M.H. Abrams, the original editor of the Norton anthology which we all assumed was 100 years old already back when we read it in college decades ago, is  1) a real person  2) STILL ALIVE!! And today in the Times (sorry fellow Richmonders but yes, I mean the New York Times) there's an interview with Abrams and the current editor Stephen Greenblatt (presumably of the Brighton Beach Memoir Greenblatt's, obvi):

For a prospective undergraduate reading this Q. and A., how would you answer the question, Why study literature?

Abrams: Ha — Why live? Life without literature is a life reduced to penury. It expands you in every way. It illuminates what you’re doing. It shows you possibilities you haven’t thought of. It enables you to live the lives of other people than yourself. It broadens you, it makes you more human. It makes life enjoyable. There’s no end to the response you can make to that question, but Stephen has a few things to add.

Greenblatt: Literature is the most astonishing technological means that humans have created, and now practiced for thousands of years, to capture experience. For me the thrill of literature involves entering into the life worlds of others. I’m from a particular, constricted place in time, and I suddenly am part of a huge world — other times, other places, other inner lives that I otherwise would have no access to.

Abrams: Yes. Literature makes life much more worth living.

Greenblatt: You speak with the full wisdom of your hundred years of life.

Abrams: That’s portentous enough.

Anyone else creeped out that suddenly he's popped up twice in one month, after being a dust-covered name on bookshelves for half a century? As in, he's gonna die soon? Sorry, but bugging me

Nuptials

Looks like former SC governor Mark Sanford is engaged to the chick he cheated on his wife with while wandering around some mountains somewhere or some shit.

Hey, good for him - as I wrote about him and her three years ago, this gives an old, bitter fuck like myself hope.

And, I must say - the eyebrows are a tad aggressive, but I'd still hit it.

Lit Will

Over at Sully they're discussing literary wills:

And, in 1999, Hemingway's son published a "bowdlerized version" of True at First Light, the author’s last unfinished work. To combat the problem this exemplifies, some archives are moving to acquire literary estates while the writer is still alive.

On one hand, of course an author should be able to dictate what happens to his work. On the other hand, who gives a shit? While I can understand withholding personal letters/manuscripts etc for a period wherein doing so might embarrass close family members such as spouse or children, doing so after a period of time seems pointless.Great, you're protecting the thoughts of the dead. Awesome. But you have no idea what may come of perusing someone's old letters, how a single life may be changed for it. For all we know the cure for cancer is sitting in some pile of old letters somewhere. As Thomas Jefferson once said, the universe if for the living. But we seem to spend a lot of time squirming about the feelings of people long gone. Shit's whack. When I'm gone, I fully expect Big Bear and the Short Bus to turn over my entire Advice for My Godsons manuscript that I had held far too sacred to release to the public in my own lifetime to anyone who will give them $5 for it.

1) I keep hearing people on tv say something like “You know, if your father heard you say that he’d turn over in his grave.” What the hell is this? The WORST thing we can think of is someone turning over in their grave, MAYBE harrumphing loudly with their disdain? Wow. “Oh no!! What if Pop can awake from the dead, hear what I was saying, and TURN OVER in the box we stuffed him in six feet in the ground!! Man, that would be awful!!!” Assuming said person COULD actually do something, wouldn’t we be more inclined to say “If your father could hear you now, he’d get up out of his grave and walk over here and beat the living shit out of you.” Now that might get my attention. Thinking that MAYBE someone in a faraway grave turned over doesn’t really make me decide to NOT set up a pyramid scheme to rip off Brownie troops. When I was a kid it was always “When your father gets home he’s going to KILL you”, which would of course scare the hell outta me. If my mother had said “If your father could magically hear you speak 47 miles away from here, he’d be so furious he’d spin around once in his office chair”, then i mean, camon. - XMASTIME

Dammit. Here Come the Waterworks.

(see below)

A Tale of Two Sisters

"Yeah. I don't think so."

"Weeeeeell, don't mind if I do!"

Guess which one is my goddaughter?  ;)

Last One

Just the other day I was thinking that just like at some point in time there was only one living person on the planet who had fought in WWI, or the Civil War, or had been a part of any significant historical even in human history, there will come a time when either Paul or Ringo will die, meaning there will only be one person on the planet who knows what it's like to be a Beatle. And yes, I mean a real Beatle, not Pete Best or someone outta the wood work claiming to have been a member of the band during a lunch in Hamburg.

And so with Neil Armstrong dying, we're down to 8 out of the 12 people who have walked on the Moon. Sure, that's different in that we can send someone else there anytime we want, but we probably won't anytime soon. I wonder who it will be that can make the claim to be the only living person ever to have set foot on another body in our universe. The money's on Charles Duke, as he's the youngest, but they're all kinda the same age, so. I'm betting on Harrison Schmitt, since  1) I've never heard of him and 2) anyone with the fucking name "Harrison Schmitt" that still has the onions to go to the fucking moon is not, I would say, the kind of dude to leave a party early, amirite?

Unsatisified

Today via Sully we see an article about Laura Ingalls Wilder's daughter Rose, who, after early flirtations with communism and bohemia, settled into a nice -ism of not helping the poor, enough with the fucking handouts etc (she saw the New Deal as a reason to not only pray for FDR's assassination, but considered doing it herself.) Her saving grace is that she couldn't quite pull the trigger on being as Ayn Randy-y as Rand herself, as Sully points out in his post.

Meanwhile, as you faithful readers already know, Xmastime has long rolled his eyes at Tea Partying "libertarians" who like to claim how high they'd fly if only the government would disappear, and that there's nothing about their daily lives that are enriched or even made possible by the government. So of course I take interest in this paragraph:

The Wilders had, in fact, received unacknowledged help from their families, and the Ingallses, like all pioneers, were dependent, to some degree, on the railroads; on taxpayer-financed schools (Mary’s tuition at a college for the blind, Hill points out, was paid for by the Dakota Territory); on credit—which is to say, the savings of their fellow-citizens; on “boughten” supplies they couldn’t make or grow; and, most of all, on the federal government, which had cleared their land of its previous owners. “There were no people” on the prairie, Laura, or Rose, had written. “Only Indians lived there.”

Even the poster child of hardscrabble frontierism needed a lot of help, help she probably wasn't even aware or conscious of in the same was we don't think much about any road we drive on or stamp we buy for however insanely inexpensive it is to send a letter thousands of miles away. Self-reliance is, as Paul Westerberg once said about freedom, a lie.

Xmastime Suggestions

Neil Armstrong's death yesterday has led to our being reminded of his constant refrain of the fact that while yes, he was the first guy on the moon, he was merely a bit player in a cast of thousands. While we do like our rock stars and of course there's something incredible about being the first human to set foot on another celestial body he's absolutely right, and I for one would like to see a huge anthology documentary featuring the flight directors of the Apollo program. all of whom are rather incredibly still alive, as well as one on the original steely-eyed missile man, John Aaron.

All narrated, of course, by Liev Schreiber.

We Survived a Civil War, Two World Wars and George W. Bush. We'll Survive This Too. Somehow.

Moonshotz

The Moonshot I'm watching right now isn't as interesting as the (almost) same-titled documentary based on the Alan Shepard book if only because it's not possible to be better than the principals themselves doing the talking, but this is interesting:

When this movie was first aired on the History Channel (US), the moment when the character of Neil Armstrong puts his foot on the moon was timed to within a minute of the 40th anniversary of Armstrong actually stepping on the moon. 

Also interesting is this.

Williamsburg

...softball Sunday. 80 degrees. Chicks sunbathing. Everyone out at Pete's, jb$ sermonizing. Completely shitfaced, heading home thinking it's 3am, then realize well, the sun's still out. Op silent & staring. Me, shamelessly telling about 4 girls they're beautiful and I'm in love with them. Might have seriously proposed at least once. Sigh. Here comes the summer. - XMASTIME, 2007 

Deflating on one hand, somewhat reassuring on the other as it's the oddly comforting embrace of the normal softball Sunday rhythm of years past.  Mostly, I'm looking forward to having a front row seat to Watty's long, sad, ignoble walk into the sunset a la Willie Mays at Shea (batted 6th yesterday - SIXTH!!!) It's the little things in life, people!!! ;)  - XMASTIME 2012

I may be particularly nostalgic about Williamsburg for a coupla days as I just read this book, and today is Old-Timer's Day for my softball team, featuring some of the old regulars that have moved on over the years for on last game before Reel to Reel (as we know it) hangs up its spikes after this year's swoon in the playoffs (zingah!)I couldn't make it, but I plan on making a playoff game and having one last rolling, massively fucked-up styrofoam-fueled Sunday afternoon.

Here's our team picture from 1971.

NYC

I'd never say I MISS the heat of summer, but I've realized since living in Virginia again that I'm wildly disconnected from it - I go from my air-conditioned house to my air-conditioned car to my air-conditioned office and bitch about the heat. This is vastly different from my time in Brooklyn. Like everything else up there, there's no getting away from summer. It kicks you in the nuts when you wake up (if you were lucky to sleep at all) and the pummels the fuck out of you all day and night. You bitch about it, and it's horrible, but  I suppose there is something to actually feeling it while bitching.

EMERGENCY XMASTIME TV ALERT

H2 Channel (History Channel 2, or some shit)

Moonshot

Man's landing on the moon was our greatest technological achievement. The Apollo 11 mission was truly the stuff of dreams. For the first time, our species walked on another celestial body. Even more remarkable was their ability to make it back. This is the story of the July 20, 1969, Apollo 11 moon landing. Drama with digitally remastered original footage.

Just watched the scene in which Neil Armstrong meets Buzz Aldrin. Buzz does not seem impressed with Neil. Which makes me even more surprised he didn't try this shit:

5) If you had been Buzz Aldrin on Apollo 11, wouldn’t you at least have thought about shoving Neil Armstrong aside and being the first man on the moon? I’ve read a lot about how he always resented Armstrong stepping on the moon first, him being the Commander of the flight. Hey, asshole – there was NO ONE ELSE ON THAT WHOLE WORLD!!! Who coulda stopped you? Let’s see: shove Armstrong aside and be known as the first man to set foot on another world, or as the guy named after the sound a vibrator makes. Tough one.

Monica Crowley...Hot AND Classy!