25

Yeah, I did that 25 random things about me on the Facebook a few weeks ago. And today I thought I'd post them here because they were fun to write.

1. I am, at the moment I'm typing this, listening to a discotastic track from the recently released soundtrack of Chips. Volume 1. I also own Volume 2. I anticipate buying Volume 3 when it gets released.

2. In high school, I dated the head cheerleader. For two years.

3. My son, Shaw, is named after my great-grandfather. Even though he died when I was young, I have vivid memories of Grampa Shaw (Shaw was his surname -- his first name was Arthur) sitting in his customary spot: the chair beside my grandfather's t.v.

4. My daughter, Emma, is named after my wife's great great great cousin, or some such relationship. Her name was Emma LeConte and she kept a diary when she was 16 or so that documented her experiences as General Sherman marched on Columbia SC where she lived. The diary was later published and is still in print. It's called When the World Ended: The Diary of Emma LeConte and it's a really interesting read.

5. While in middle school I won some kind of contest, maybe you filled out a card at a store and dropped it in the box. The prize was a 40 channel CB. I wish I still had it, even though I still don't know what I'd do with it. Better go take a 10-100.

6. I wrote a short documentary about the SC upstate during World War 2 for an exhibit at a local history museum. I'm informed that it won an award from a national organization, but I've never seen any evidence of that.

7. I've lived in 40 different dwellings.

8. I didn't cry at my wedding or at the birth of my children. But when The Master returned on Doctor Who last year, I got goosebumps, got choked up then cried like a little girl.

9. Today I wore a scarf that my parents first gave me when I was in third or fourth grade.

10. In the nineties, I sold a joke to Playboy.

11. The first time I rode my bike after moving to Chicago, it got stolen. So I bought an old green Raleigh with big old man fenders on it and I stuck a nice nerdy basket on the handlebars. Once I got to SC, I didn't ride it at all and it sat in the basement through floods and then, in our current basementless house, sat behind the fence under a tarp. Now that Emma has a bike, I thought I'd get my back up to speed. I took it to a bike shop. They just shook their heads sadly. I left there discouraged and went to my next scheduled errand, dropping off some items at a thrift shop. I got to the back door to do the drop off and there was an old green bicycle with big old man fenders. I asked if it was for sale and they looked at it and said "How about fifteen bucks?" and I took it straight to the bike shop for new tires and a check up. I picked it up today. It's sweet. Now I need to put my basket on it.

12. The first time I met my wife, she was sitting in the bleachers, looking radiant in the sun. The next time I saw her she had a cold and had to keep blowing her runny nose. But I didn't care. I could still feel the radiance.

13. Sometimes I think about things I did years or decades before and I shudder.

14. I've been keeping a list of every book I've read since 1987.

15. There are twelve pages so far.

16. Here are the first and last books on each page. Den of Thieves by Katherine Stall and Before I Get Old by Dave Marsh. The Columbo Phile by Mark Dawidziak and The Halloween Tree by Ray Bradbury. Mostly Harmless by Douglas Adams and Throat Sprockets by Tim Lucas. And Now For Something Completely Trivial by Kim Howard Johnson and Moby Dick Rehearsed by Orson Welles. Good Benito by Alan Lightman and The Alligator Report by W.P. Kinsella. Sombrero Fallout by Richard Brautigan and A Widow For One Year by John Irving. Singin in the Rain by Peter Wollen and Exploring Space: 1999 by John Kenneth Muir. The Year 2000 by Harry Harrison and Foundation and Empire by Isaac Asimov. Sources of Strength by Jimmy Carter and How to Build A Time Machine by Paul Davies. The Subatomic Monster by Isaac Asimov and The Expectant Father by Armin Brott. The Birth Book by William Sears and Natural Childbirth the Bradley Way by Susan McCutcheon. The Android's Dream by John Scalzi and Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov.

17. Dunkin' Donuts. Not Krispy Kreme.

18. There's still something radiant about my wife.

19. I've never seen American Idol or Survivor.

20. I'm a little sad that my children will not grow up in a world where Star Trek and Gilligan and Brady's and Lost in Space and McHale's Navy and other cultural icons greet them after school.

21. I'm supposed to be uploading photos from the camera and sitting on the couch with my wife right now, so I better finish up.

22. Favorite number is still 42.

23. My dad took me to see Tora Tora Tora when I was a kid. Apparently, I rooted for the Japs.

24. I wish we had some pie in the house. Razzleberry pie from Marie Callendar. Or just a nice cherry pie. Or apple.

25. Sometimes I wish I'd become an astrophysicist. Or a Dunkin' Donuts manager.

Still Waiting

(written for the Film Score Monthly blog)

I spend most of the day building furniture and cabinets and otherwise creating a lot of sawdust. Our shop sits in an old building in a fashionable section of Main Street.

A few years back, my boss built himself a guitar (an absolutely gorgeous archtop) and started learning to play it. One day I decided to dig my saxophone out of the attic, where it had resided more or less untouched for 20 years, and play along. We gathered up some old standards and started sitting out in front of the building playing music during coffee breaks.

Since we’re on Main Street, we often get a fair amount of foot traffic. Sometimes, one of those passersby will drop a dollar into the open guitar case. And sometimes, just sometimes, a couple will be walking by and they’ll pause while we’re playing something like “Misty” and they’ll listen for a few moments and then they’ll look at each other and they’ll begin to dance, gently swaying back and forth on the sidewalk.

And so often, especially when I’m warming up, I’ll start playing Jerry Goldsmith tunes and see if anyone pricks up an ear in recognition.

Nothing too easy or blatant, like the big Star Trek march, but “Ilia’s Theme” definitely. Or the gorgeous motif that opens “The Old City” track from Masada. I’ll do the doDEEdoDEEdo doDEEdo horn fanfare from The Wind and the Lion. I’ll attempt the theme from Hawkins. I’ve played that wonderful melody from Medicine Man that soars in a string arrangement during “The Trees.” I’ve done my own interpretation of the theme from Bandolero and completely failed to do justice to The Great Train Robbery.

And all the time I watch, looking for a turned head or a knowing grin, waiting for that one person to cast me a quizzical glance and say, “Is that Jerry Goldsmith you’re playing?”

I’ve been playing this game on and off for nearly four years.

I’m still waiting.

But I’m not giving up. You never know who’s going to walk by. Maybe someone will stop one morning and say, “That’s a lovely song. What is it?” and I’ll be able to encourage them to look for a particular cd that will provide them with the tune in all its original glory.

Or, more likely, I’ll just continue tooting to deaf ears. I mean not even my guitar-playing boss, sitting beside me as I noodle through Goldsmith tunes, has ever commented on them. I’m a lone voice crying into the wilderness. But that’s okay. It’s still fun to see if I can play an identifiable version of the theme from Room 222 on alto sax. I can amuse myself for minutes at a time doing this, and that’s what matters in the end.

Maybe next time I’ll try some John Barry. “Bond Meets the Girls” from On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, anyone?

True Story

(This was written for Film Score Monthly's blog and is also posted there.)


True story.
I walk to the back of a huge warehouse into the confined, fume-filled finishing room. I get the attention of David, the busy man in charge, and ask him my question (it’s about putting glaze on a cabinet door, if you must know). He asks if I have some time to wait, then sprays some noxious finish on my sample door.
I stand around waiting for it to dry. He gets back to his business, pausing only to press play on the portable cd player perched on a shelf beside bottles of stain. The music begins. It’s instrumental, which immediately draws my attention. It’s not country or pop or anyone singing at all. And it’s not classical either, not exactly. I can’t place it -- but I know film music when I hear it. So I ask him what we’re listening to.

“Mask of Zorro,” he replies.

I freak out a little, inside at least. If you’re here on this site reading these words, you know how rare it is to hear film music being played anywhere other than your own stereo.

“You listen to a lot of film music?” I ask, trying to draw him out.
“Not really,” he says. “I like this one. It’s by James Horton.”

I bite my tongue, then, “You listen to a lot of Horner?”

“Nah,” he says, measuring out a custom stain color. “If you’ve heard one, you’ve heard them all.”

I laugh out loud and actually do a fist jab into the air.

“I have a friend who listens to a lot of this stuff,” he continues, “and I like this one, but all of Horton’s stuff tends to sound the same. He seems to have just one bag of tricks he uses over and over again.”
In my mind, I see all those message board threads, all the back and forth, and I hear the danger motif in my head and I recall my own first experiences with Horner. I actually saw Battle Beyond the Stars in the theater and just loved the score. For a long time I thought that if I could only have that soundtrack album, I’d be happy. When I got it, I laughed with glee at the flubbed notes during Cowboy and the Jackers and thought the opening French horn trills were thrilling and unexpected and my girlfriend, who played French horn, agreed that the score was a lot of fun to hear. I remember getting excited seeing Horner’s name on the Star Trek II poster, and joking with my girlfriend that maybe we’d hear those French horns again. Little did we know…
Back in the warehouse, I eventually asked David if he ever listens to Jerry Goldsmith.

“Never heard of him,” he said. “What did he write?”

I’m pretty sure I now know exactly what the word “aghast” means. Sadly, I was so flummoxed that I couldn’t come up with anything. I eventually coughed out, “Uh, the first Star Trek movie, uh, Patton…” and then all I could think of was The Thirteenth Warrior, which I was currently listening to in my car, and other similarly obscure titles. Mercifully, David interrupted my train of thought.
“No, I don’t really care about that old stuff. Who did National Treasure? That one’s great.”

Sigh.

This happened to me last week. My purpose in relating it is not to reopen the various Horner self-plagiarism arguments or start a round of bashing Media Ventures or whatever it is they’re calling themselves these days. No, I just wanted to share because even as we think of ourselves as a tiny group of aficionados, as much as we sometimes feel like musical outcasts in a pop culture sea, there are others out there. There are regular folks out there who like one or two scores, and that’s about it. They don’t need to own every Trevor Rabin score. They just like to listen to National Treasure. They have a favorite Horner score and they couldn’t care less about Jerry Goldsmith. And it’s okay. It’s what makes this music so great. It doesn’t always just disappear amidst the wall of sound that most movies have become. Sometimes a score can pop out and grab the attention of someone who normally wouldn’t care less. And that person will seek out that score and it won’t be just the hardcore Rabin completists who buy the cd. Sometimes it’s just a guy who likes what he heard in one single movie.
And next time, maybe he’ll perk up when he sees the composer’s name in the credits. And later, he’ll form some general opinions and maybe, just maybe, one day he’ll stumble across this wonderful little place called Film Score Monthly.
Then we can finally start ramming Goldsmith down his throat…

Breakfast Challenge Details

So here's the whole deal on this breakfast challenge. I lined up the ingredients.
I whisked the eggs. Added milk. Added flour.
Yes, I added flour.
And I whisked it up as it got thicker and thicker and thicker.
And I realized I'd pout in a whole cup of flour instead of half a cup.

Crap.

So, I set that bowl aside and started over again. From the beginning.

Now, I finally tossed the butter into the hot pan.
Then pulled it out.
Swirled it a bit.
Added the batter.
And stuck it in to cook.
Then I couldn't just throw out the other batter, so I tossed in a bit of brown sugar and sprinkled in some baking soda and tossed it into lumps on a baking sheet.
The pancakey thing cooked, sort of rising, but not really a whole lot.
Then I took it out and it deflated even more and was a sort of flat thing which was okay with powdered sugar and syrup all over it.
Then I baked the lumps for a bit and ended up with this. Pretty bread like and a bit bland, but tasted great when each bite was smothered in raspberry preserves.
And thus ended the day's cooking adventures.

Breakfast

Well, mine didn't puff up anywhere near Charlotte's.

Kind of tough and bland.

Ah well.

Saturday Breakfast Challenge

Why write this up myself when Charlotte has already done it so well?

So, That Neil Guy has issued a culinary challenge. (Not so much a challenge really, but it sounds cooler to say it that way, like he took off his oven mitts and slapped me with them or something.) Anyway, he was intrigued by this recipe, and will be making it this Saturday morning. He asked me to make it as well, to see if we get similar results. Since it is a baking experiment, it is likely that we will have wildly varied results.

The funny thing is, this is a recipe for a Dutch Baby. AB made a Dutch Baby on his "Popover Sometime" episode and I was really intrigued by it. It looks like a ginormous Yorkshire pudding.

So I will be preparing a Dutch Baby this Saturday morning, using the above-linked recipe. Wanna try it too? If you do, and if you have a blog, post your results. If you do, and you don't have a blog, email me your results, and I'll post them. If you don't, then fine. Be that way.

Tune in Saturday to see us go dutch, baby.

Short Order

From the vaults, a student project by Michael Crawford & I, starring the fabulous Andy Williams and the president of our college, Harry Smith. This is dubbed straight from the original VHS tape, warts and all. It's a leisurely paced thing, I'll say that, and the end credits seem nearly as long as the film itself. But it sure was fun to do. Too bad that Michael couldn't get any daytime train footage. We once reshot a couple of scenes, but Michael has that tape and it's on 3/4 inch tape, I believe, so it may never see the light of day. Enjoy -- if you dare!

Frankly Speaking

Inspired by J'Mel, I'm posting a short story I wrote a while back. Comments welcome.



I peered through the frost of the stasis tube, watching Frank Sinatra open his eyes.
Wow. They really were blue.
I popped the last of the fail safes and slid the tube open.
He blinked a few times before staring at me.
“Where the hell’s my robe?”
“Yes, right here, sir.” I’d rehearsed this enough times you’d think I would have it ready. But the shock of the reality knocked the wind out of my extensive training.
He slipped into the robe and examined the chamber.
“A man could die of thirst before he’s offered a drink around here.”
The Medbot produced a Jack and water. Three ice cubes.
Sinatra eyed the drink suspiciously before taking a sip.
“Okay. What is it this time?”
I cleared my throat. “Well, sir, we’ve become concerned over a growing trend—“
“You’re younger than the last one,” he said.
“Uh, yes, sir.” In fact, during the last Sinatra Crisis, some four hundred years earlier, Benson himself served as Technician In Charge. The legendary Benson, the Technician who single-handedly salvaged the Facility after the Grid Wars, must have been nearly 70 when that particular Crisis manifested.
Now we’d reached another obvious Crisis Point. And I knew I was no Benson. How could I possibly interpret Sinatra’s advice correctly? Benson had a lifetime to study the Roasts and hear the discs. I’d only just seen From Here to Eternity. What if his advice had something to do with The Tender Trap? I’d never know. Unless he mentioned Debbie Reynolds, I suppose.
“Hey!” He snapped me back to reality. “Let’s get this over with. My drink’s almost gone.”
“Yes, sorry, sir, I’ll get right to it.”
“You do that.” He walked to the window, staring at the snow-covered sands.
“We seem to have taken things in the wrong direction,” I began.
“Are we still in Palm Springs?” he asked.
“Yes, the remains of Palm Desert and—“
“Christ. You bimbos really screwed it this time.”
“Yes, sir.”
He drained his drink, removed a single ice cube, then handed the glass to the Medbot on his way back to the stasis tube.
“I’ve seen enough,” he said.
“But the climate, we’re not sure if this severe cooling is our fault or a natural—“
“Turn the tube back on,” he said. “I’m done.”
“But the crisis, sir. We need you. We need your help!”
“Here,” he said, tossing the ice cube to me. “Go skate on it.”

My Latest Creation

Here's a chair I built for a client. They wanted sort of an art piece that was also, well, a chair. The designer sketched out an idea, Bob drew up some real plans and I built it, out of red cedar, then painted it. The metal grill was built by a local fellow and installed by me using the amazing technology of screws.

Damn It, You've Got To Be Kind

Inspired by a recent post on my High School pal Russ' blog, I'm posting the sort of philosophical worldview I'm trying to implement for myself. It's so easy to get reeled in by the exploding violence around the world and tumultuous economic news that I, for one, can easily find myself living in a cloud of negative thoughts.

So I'm trying to follow some ideas from Kurt Vonnegut's wonderful novel God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater. In it, Vonnegut notes that there is no instruction manual to accompany our arrival here on this planet, but if there were one, this is what he thinks it should say:

“Hello, babies. Welcome to Earth. It’s hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It’s round and wet and crowded. At the outside, babies, you’ve got about a hundred years here. There’s only one rule that I know of, babies — ‘God damn it, you’ve got to be kind.’ ”

So I've been using that to help combat the oppressive negativity and feeling of doom that easily permeates my consciousness. First off, I'm trying hard to be kind. Always and to everyone. And it's not as easy as it sounds. Meanwhile, of course, the Bible could be seen as an instruction manual of sorts, and based on stuff we've been talking about in Sunday school, I'm trying to make sure I see every single person as a child of God and, even more, the very image of God. The only thing I can change is me, the only place I can interact is right here in front of me in my everyday actions here in my town. So I try not to focus on the tanking economy and the evil hatred that explodes internationally. I'm trying to just focus on being kind to everyone and seeing everyone as a child of God. I want to be a light to the world, to live my life as a thank you note to God, and the only way to do it is to see the beauty in everything around me, everything and everyone. Of course, it's darned near impossible and I see myself as mean-spirited and harshly judgmental. But I'm trying, damn it, I'm trying...

Impoverished

It's blog action day.

So I've been thinking about poverty and, to be honest, it's something that's been bugging me for years.

In the Bible, Jesus talked about poverty, like, 90 million times. Jesus talked about abortion, gays, flag burning and other hot button topics exactly zero times.

So why aren't we having a war on poverty? Why isn't every Christian doing what Jesus commanded: give everything you have to the poor.

"Oh," you say, "but Jesus said the poor will always be with you. So, you know, don't worry about the poor and save yourself."

Okay, did you read the whole story? He says it in response to Judas (of all people) giving Mary Magdalene a hard time for buying some oil to pour on J's feet in those last days. And Jesus, in effect, says, "Look, you'll have your whole life to help the poor. But I'm only going to be here for a couple more days. So chill out, Judas."

So why do we spend so much time trying to proof-text hot button issues and find excuses to get around Jesus' ideas about helping the poor and loving everyone and turning the other cheek and forgiving your enemies and all those other hard things he asked us to do?

Oh yeah -- because they're hard to do.

Or am I reading a different Bible than everyone else?

Our Big Finale

The Break Time Players, at the art museum. This was our final number and we decided to encourage some audience participation...

Does This Make Us Art?

The Break Time Players -- Bob Ripley on guitar and me on saxophone -- were invited to play at the local art museum last week. So we did.

Here's a brief excerpt.

Happy Breakaway Day!

The New Star Trek

Sneak Preview

Our church publishes short pieces on the cover of our weekly bulletin. I wrote a couple a few years back. I was asked to write a new one to go in the bulletin sometime this November relating to our stewardship campaign. I was inspired and went ahead and wrote it now rather than, as is more typical for me, waiting until late October.

So here it is.


Feeding the Five Thousand


Let me make this one thing perfectly clear: it’s not just about the donuts.

Sure, the donuts are a nice bonus. I mean, last summer, we got donuts after every service. Kind of makes it even more fun to go to church, you know? And we still get donuts every few weeks when new members join our growing church family. So there certainly continue to be numerous opportunities for donuts. And, hey, what could be better than donuts?

Well, there’s also coffee.

And while there’s nothing all that miraculous about donuts and coffee (although together they are a mighty powerful team) and I’m certainly not going to suggest that any kind of transubstantiation occurs when you eat a fried ring of dough covered in powdered sugar, there does remain a certain sense of something special that does occur in their presence.

Let me try to explain.

In the story, Jesus takes five loaves and two fish, looks to heaven, blesses and breaks the loaves, then divides the fish and, when the disciples set them before the gathered crowd of five thousand men (not to mention any additional women or children), all ate and were satisfied.

All of them ate.

We aren’t given an explanation. We don’t get a Sorcerer’s Apprentice style scene in which the loaves and fish start rapidly multiplying and walking themselves through the crowd uncontrolled. We’re simply told that all ate, that all were satisfied and that, most miraculously of all, there were leftovers.

A character in a novel I once read, an Episcopal priest experiencing a crisis of faith, thought that maybe the way the story really happened was that it was as though there were only five loaves and two fishes. The miracle was that the people shared what they had with strangers.

And isn’t that exactly what Jesus repeatedly calls us to do?

Now I could recite the familiar litany of the amazing depth and breadth of mission work our church supports. I could line item the educational, ministerial and charitable opportunities that made our sanctuary burst at the seams. I could give you a spreadsheet that tells you where all the money goes. I could share my testimony of the tremendous difference Westminster Presbyterian Church continues to make in the lives of my whole family.

But all I really want to say is that when we gather together, whether it’s at a worship service, a church supper, a small group meeting or, yes, just a bunch of folks chatting around a table of coffee and donuts, we make a difference. A huge difference, not just in our own lives, but in the lives of people across the upstate and across the world.

So when I drop my envelope into the collection plate, I’m not just doing it for the donuts. I’m doing it to feed the five thousand – and more – people who come away satisfied from Westminster Presbyterian Church.

I Know Nothing

I have no knowledge of John Edwards' alleged love child.

I swear.

I know nothing.

UPDATE: What a jerk.

Jet Pack!!!!

Made of Meat

Read this story. It won't take long. It addresses the idea of why we seem to be alone in the universe.

What's for Dinner

http://view.break.com/534274 - Watch more free videos

Band Practice

Bob and I got caught by a photographer from the local paper while we were out practicing during coffee break time.

Time Travel Advice

Sage words of advice for that inevitable moment when you meet your time traveling self, coming back from the future to confront the current you.

Retro Italian

Thanks to Mr. Meyers, I've been engaging in some Mo Ranch era nostalgia for old Italian pop songs.

It's a long story.

But here's Che Bambola!

And, of course, the greatest of them all -- BoBo Step!

At Last!

Woo hoo! That jet pack I was promised in childhood is finally here!

It runs on gasoline. Sweet. Now I can keep a five gallon can in my shed for the lawnmower and the jet pack.


Hmmm. I imagine it's pricey, though. Anyone got a bunch of money they wanna give me? I'll totally give you a ride...


Thanks to my high school pal John for the link!

Alien or Punisher?

So this guy in Denver held a press conference recently to show his alleged definitive proof that aliens are visiting us.

Shockingly, the footage is the same stupid blurry crap that always passes as definitive proof. When I saw a photo of it, I immediately thought it was a guy wearing a Punisher shirt standing outside the window.

Here's the folks from one of my favorite podcasts, The Skeptic's Guide to the Universe, discussing the event.



The older I get, the more I understand (even in a limited way) about physics and the unimaginably large size of the universe, the more I understand that all this alien visitation garbage is just completely stupid garbage. Sure, there very well may be life out there. But they certainly aren't visiting us. If they were, we'd all know it. I grew up believing in Bigfoot and Chariots of the Gods and all that crap. But the older I get, the stupider and more juvenile and desperate it all seems. I'd love to believe. But give me some real evidence first.

And get me my jetpack while you're at it.

The Logical Choice?

Fascinating.
Can we all now live long and prosper?

More Sparrow

A couple of my favorite quotes from The Sparrow.

"He felt as though he were a prism, gathering up God's love like white light and scattering it in all directions..."
----
"The Jewish sages tell us that the whole of the Torah, the entirety of the first five books of the Bible, is the name of God. With such a name, they ask, how much more is God?"
----
"He found the life of Jesus profoundly moving; the miracles, on the other hand, seemed a barrier to faith, and he tended to explain them to himself in rational terms. It was as though there were only seven loaves and seven fishes. Maybe the miracle was that the people shared what they had with strangers."

TV Barn

When I first started using the internet, way back in, oh 1996 or so, I stumbled across what we would now term a blog called TV Barn. It was run by a fellow named Aaron Barnhart, tv critic of the Kansas City Star newspaper. He began by doing a regular email list about late night tv and wound up getting a gig with the paper, while still maintaining his website. I bookmarked it back then and I've visited it nearly every day since then, lo these ten plus years later. He's changed the look and feel of the site many times over the years (and even fought off leukemia at one point) and the balance he's got now is just great.

He covers tv related news and such in some well written and thought-out articles, but has also added a "what's working for me/what's not" featurette that's a great added bonus. And one of the star attractions remains his ticker, a running list of tv related news items. Now I'm not the biggest tv watcher by any stretch, but I've consistently enjoyed TV Barn and highly recommend you check it out.

Sparrow

So I recently finished reading The Sparrow a novel by Mary Doria Russell. I saw it mentioned a couple of times on Scalzi's blog and finally got a copy. The novel follows a Jesuit priest who, after we receive radio signals from another planet, decides that God is calling him to lead the first expedition to a new world. We jump back and forth in time as we find out what happened to the team and why only our priest protagonist survived. I've long pondered on what impact evidence of life elsewhere would have on religious thought here, and this novel took a look a this question. As it went on, I got more and more drawn in until I found myself wanting to read it all the time. Now I have to decide whether I should take a look at the sequel.

The Amazing Color Changing Card Trick

Movie Moments in Real Life

Remember that scene early on in The Road Warrior when Mad Max sticks pots and pans under a wrecked vehicle to collect the dripping gasoline, then goes over the road with a rag to make sure he sops up every last drop?

Nowadays, I think about that scene every time I fill up my tank.

They Tried To Kill Me With A Fork Lift

Frank's Greatest Album

Frank Jr. once said that this album should be available only by prescription, it's that powerful. He said it's full of suicide songs.

Well, I don't know about that, but Julie and Stephen once came home to find me lying on the floor in the dark listening to this album. It's really an emotional ride if you're suffering from heartbreak. If you're in a good place emotionally, it can still really pack a punch, reminding you of old heartaches. But it's exquisitely beautiful, gorgeously sung and contains many of Frank's all time greatest inspired interpretations of saloon songs ever.

Angel Eyes. One For My Baby. What's New.

It's Sinatra's greatest album ever. Period.


Amazon.com Widgets

We Have A Winner

I'm so pleased that my daughter is going to grow up in a world where this is normal.

Indy racing is the one sport I've always enjoyed. I have vivid memories of watching the Indy 500 with my dad, and cheering the Unser boys and wearing an AJ Foyt T-shirt. It's the one sports event I try to watch every year, and Emma and I had fun watching it last year when another woman driver, Milka, crashed. Emma was rooting for Milka and later that same day, she crashed on her tricycle and excitedly cried that she was now just like Milka!

We'll be cheering for Danica this year. Emma sang a song this morning that went something like this: "I love Danica, she won a trophy just like me!" Emma got a trophy for her ballet recital yesterday, so she and Danica have something in common, you see. And Emma declared that she wants to dress up like Danica for Halloween. Better start shopping for a jumpsuit and helmet. Maybe Shaw can be Emma's pit crew.

Finally -- A Jet Pack?

Check out FusionMan!

Is my dream of owning a jet pack coming closer to a reality...?

Ten Years Later, We Still Miss You

Are You Ready, Boots?

Yippee Ki Yay, Melon Farmer

Watching Die Hard movies on commercial television can be a jarring experience. The Yippee Ki Yay is typically cut off right after Yippee Ki Yay. And other "colorful metaphors" are dubbed. My favorite, by far, occurred in Die Hard 3 when Samuel L. Jackson calls Bruce WIllis a "racist melon farmer." Melon farmer? The best faux expletive ever.

So now here's a clip of Die Hard 2 dubbed for tv. Listen for the expertly done voice that, oddly, sounds absolutely nothing like Bruce Willis.

Exchange Student

Back in high school we had one exchange student each year, My senior year, our school hosted Silvia Callirgos from Peru. I wondered if, through the miracle of the internet, I could find out what she's up to these days. Well, who knew she'd be on YouTube? She shows up most prominently about 3:30 into the piece.

Now if I could just get hold of Russ Siders to translate for me...

Taxi

Okay.

It's easy to rip on Shatner and make fun of his "singing" style. But this clip actually really nails what he's going for. Watch it with an open mind (and just ignore his collar) and you'll actually see a brilliant performance, a monologue-like interpretation of the Harry Chapin song, Taxi.



No, I'm serious.

Sinatra + Jobim = Magic

One of my all-time favorite Frank Sinatra records is his collaboration with Antonio Carlos Jobim.

It's an inspired combination, and here's a medley that gives you a taste of it.



I wish they'd done more than just the one album together.

Shatner Sings The Hits From Camelot

All hail his glorious toupee and bow to the will of the One True Shatner's sage words of advice.

justiceplanes: A Celebration

Here's a tribute to my favorite band, which also happens to be my wife's band. So here's Jennifer, Suzanne, Mark and Brent: justiceplanes.

Retro Fashion

Back in the late seventies, I was a regular subscriber to Starlog, the only magazine that kept me up to date with Star Trek, Star Wars and the other science fiction-y things that so enthralled me. After Battlestar Galactica arrived on the scene, this ad began appearing in the magazine. Cleverly called the Warrior's Battle Jacket, note how it never actually mentions the TV show. But it does let you know how great you'll look in the disco!

I wanted one. Man, did I want one. But they cost a bundle (in 1979 dollars). And since they only ever had this little illustration, never any actual photos of the jacket, I never knew what it would really look like. Would it have that suede look of the ones in the actual series? There was just no way to know.

Until now.

Yes, thanks to the mighty power of the internet, I've managed to find a photo of one of those jackets. So someone out there actually was able to convince his (and, yes, I definitely mean "his" since there's no way any woman would be seen dead in one of these) parents to fork out the dough. And he kept it through the years and eventually posted a photo on the blessed internet.

So here it is, courtesy of ketzer.com.

So it looks a little thin, but I would have worn it to my local disco (if we'd had a disco in our small Iowa farm town).

And here's a more contemporary recreation of the jacket available for purchase.

Looks a little more authentic, I guess. Still would look great at the disco. You can buy one for me, if you'd like. Size large.

Gary Cooper vs the RoboCowboys

The King's Most Perfect Song?

Here's a video of fat Elvis backed by the studio recording of Moody Blue which is, perhaps, the King's most perfect song. It's rock, country and disco -- all at once!

What could be better? Okay. Maybe Burnin' Love. Or Suspicious Minds. Okay, there's a bunch. But come on, country disco rock!

Oh Mighty Shatner

On the news that Shatner is releasing a new musical recording (in which he reads Exodus to orchestral accompaniment) here is some more of the sublime stylings of the man himself.



This one's from his most recent album.

Bean Slurry

So I open up this can of pinto beans, intending to add them to the chili I was cooking. But instead of pinto beans, the can seemed to contain some sort of vile bean-colored slurry, reminiscent, I guess, of refried beans, which would have been fine if I'd intended to open a can of refried beans.

Needless to say, my chili remained beanless.

Rocket Man

All Hail Shatner!

Kung Fu Fighting

My favorite Doctor demonstrating his Venusian Karate skills.

It Was A Very Good Year

Short Story

So I'm trying to put together a website for writing samples and such at neilshurley.com.

Yesterday I posted my short story "Commandments" which was originally published in Rosebud Magazine some years back. Go read it if you're so inclined.

Freakily enough, I found out that the story is discussed in the book A Storied Singer: Frank Sinatra as Literary Conceit (Contributions to the Study of Popular Culture).

Leatherheads Starring George Clooney and Me

So last year, George Clooney and crew came to town to shoot for a few days. I worked one day on the film and this afternoon Jennifer and I went down to the theater and saw the finished product.

Well, what do you know. I made it in. I'm pretty visible, to myself at least, walking on the sidelines at the end of one scene (it's the scene shown in the trailers involving a ref getting slugged).

Guess now I have to buy the dvd...

Get Yer Stinkin Paws Off Me

In honor of the late Charlton Heston, one of the great reveals in cinema history, with chillingly fabulous music by the late, great Jerry Goldsmith.

Lego Shatner - Then and Now

As if we needed more proof, but some people

have way too much time on their hands.