POBRECITO !

POBRECITO (POE-BRAY-CEE-TOE) is the Spanish word for; poor little boy. Its literal meaning is obvious but figuratively it can also be used to either forthrightly or sarcastically to describe a male of any age who is down on his luck.

Ever since Friday December 14th, I have forthrightly been calling my son Andrew pobrecito because he had braces put on his teeth.

Personally, I didn't think his already perfect smile needed to be further enhanced but alas, even I must occasionally answer, and concede to higher levels of wisdom and authority.

In addition to the constant discomfort and/or pain of foreign objects in your mouth, the new "wearer" of braces is inundated with new do's and don'ts of orthodontic care. Therefore in a combination of earnest doctorly advice and propaganda, the impatient patient is told to brush not three times a day, not four times but FIVE times.

Here we are on day-four and my pobrecito is still experiencing the challenge of eating. Another obstacle for him is flossing. It's a difficult technique to master because the braces are in the way.

Additionally, to diminish the effects of uncomfortable edges, the braces wearer is supplied with a waxy substance...which in this case might actually be wax...which can be balled-up and applied directly to a rough spot to reduce the discomfort. Unfortunately, he has had an extremely hard time administering it. Although his mother and I are willing to go in there and do it for him--the logistics of the situation mandates that Andrew does this for himself.

The braces are expected to be "in" from six to nine months. The silver lining to Andrew's gray cloud is that its estimated that most patients get used to the reformation of their mouth and the new maintenance routine in two weeks.

Hopefully, Andrew's adjustment period will be short and that all my updates will be positive.

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Of course what good would pobrecito be if it was only used forthrightly. I think it's infinitely more fun when used sarcastically and I know the best target, moi, (That's French for "me," you silly goose).

In order to call myself pobrecito, I'll start with a joke...These two casino supervisors are walking down the street when one says, "Look, a dead bird." And the other one looks up into the sky and says," Where?"

Why do we make fun casino supervisors and other higher life forms? Psychological experts claim that making fun of other people reveals a flaw...an insecurity...in us. By fulfilling a need to put someone or some group down, we feel artificially better about ourselves.

If this is true, and I'm not proud of it, I must be extremely insecure. As many of you know, I have had feud with my hillbilly next door neighbor for ten years...

But today, I am not here to vent over THAT next door neighbor...because as most of us know, next door neighbors usually travel in pairs. Today, I am after my other next door neighbor and the group I am about to insult are...renters. If any of my readers who are renters are getting squeamish and appreciate political correctness, you are excused from reading the rest of this column.

First, if I was renting a house on a street like mine, I honestly don't know how much (if any) effort I would put in to routine front yard maintenance. So that is NOT the issue here. The issue is, his landlord brings a service in to mow the lawn four times each summer...if that's an exaggeration, I'll up the total to five times but NO higher!

Then twice, maybe three other times during the rest of the year, this same service comes by and cleans up the property...more specifically rakes up the leaves.

This has been an odd year because we had a prolonged Indian summer. In most Autumns, the falling leaves would be gradual and proportionally cleaned up, this year they remained on the trees longer and we are now all drowning in them.

Each year here in Galloway, the city works department advertises monthly leave pick-up dates. Residents pile up their leaves on the street and a truck with a gigantic vacuum, comes by and sucks them up. While waiting for the big day, extraordinary amounts of leaves pile up everywhere.  Many of us, just to see the street tidier, count-down the days as if the vacuum truck's appearance was a holiday.

Well, last month the day before the big event, my renter "friend" has a behemoth pile of leaves just like the rest of us. And for no other reason than mere sport, this numb-nuts plows through his pile in his Mercedes SUV sending a gazillion leaves flying everywhere.

I call myself pobrecito because there's no way I'm going to approach this moron over the difference between his minutia and my eternal search for humanity and common sense. But the next day, our hero really out did himself by parking on top of his still massive leaf pile so that the vacuum truck had no choice but to pass it by...thus leaving the leaves for another month. 

I will now close with a caustic "renter" joke:

So this renter was swimming the English Channel from France to England. And half way across he got tired and swam back to France.

COBBY LIVES ! EVEL KNIEVEL DIES !

Even if you never read my book, I am pleased to announce that Cobby lives.

English-born Webster "Cobby" Wolfe is a handicapped casino hustler in my novel, "IF IT AIN'T NAILED DOWN." Due to the nature of his physical deformity, his role in the casino heist is limited to being a look-out. However, the Cobby character is based on a real person.

Unhealthy looking, scruffy and filthy, this man that I will continue to call Cobby was an apparent victim of the drug thalidomide. Thalidomide was prescribed to pregnant women in Europe from 1956-1962 to reduce the affect of morning sickness. Unfortunately, it wasn't tested properly and approximately 10,000 children were born with severe birth defect...mainly undeveloped limbs. In Cobby's case, he has two baby hands that look like flippers growing from his shoulders.

In developing his character, I couldn't help but realize what kind of nightmare it must be to be in his predicament. Added to his troubles, Cobby was a lone wolf, (thus his last name). It seemed obvious to me that without a lot of help, it would be hard for him to survive. So when I hadn't seen the real Cobby for quite some time, I assumed he was dead.

Well, last week after about five years of not seeing him pan-handling in the casino, Cobby crossed in front of my car on Pacific Avenue. I was both happy and relieved to see him. Plus, I was glad that I treated him sympathetically in my book.

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On the other hand, I expected Evel Knievel to live to a hundred and eleven...but he didn't. Robert Craig Knievel died last week at the age of 69.

I never gravitated to his motorcycle feats of daring-do. But throughout his celebrity run, I knew who he was and what he did. He made a nice buck and certainly had an enormous following. So I don't mean to diminish him or his accomplishments, BUT !

After his death I watched a montage of his career highlights and low lights. Mixed in was a commentary that chronicled his gazillion broken bones and the lifetime of pain he endured.

Seeing it only solidified my indifference in him. I'm sorry, I don't get it. When I saw him successfully fly over a row of buses... it looked so easy that I couldn't get excited for the risk he was taking. Then when he crashed--all I could think was: SCHMUCK !

Yes I do realize that he is the father of today's XTREME sports...which I do appreciate...and still, I can't get past the word schmuck.

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In keeping with the death theme; the rabbit has died, or should I say the urban legend surrounding the rabbit has died.

"DICKIE ROBERTS" was another crumby David Spade movie from 2003. In it, there was a sequence where the hated next door neighbor's pure white rabbit was killed by his family dog. To  liability, he bought an identical rabbit and secretly returned it to its pen.

When the neighbors got home, they were aghast to find out that their dead and buried rabbit had risen from the grave. Further, their only explanation for it was; Satan's folly. Therefore with the devil at their doorstep, they moved away.

About ten years ago, this story, almost word for word, was told to me in first-hand by a friend. When I told her about Dickie Roberts, she told me that it DIDN'T happen to her...that she had heard about it from someone else. Nevertheless, another urban legend can be permanently buried.

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Lastly, and most importantly, "MORE GLIB ThAN PROFOUND," lives! It lives so well that on December 9th, I celebrated my web-page's first anniversary. I couldn't have done it without your readership, constructive criticism and support. Thank you all so much and my goal for 2008 will be to entertain you with even higher levels of glibness, BUT... with only half the calories.

BLIND STABS in the DARK

On sports radio, one of the commentators has a segment called, "BLIND STABS IN THE DARK." It is at that time that he reveals his pro football picks of the week. Apparently, he is so bad at predicting the outcomes, he gave the segment its apt name.

Personally, I couldn't give a rat's behind about any body's opinion on sports betting but what drew my interest was, the theme music.

A rush of warm nostalgic goodness flooded my body when I heard it but I couldn't identify the tune. When one of your nicknames is "Instant Recall Edelblum" it becomes a mission to remember it or at worst, find out.

Luckily the commentator did identify the "Blind Stabs in the Dark" song as, the theme from the 1964-1965 cartoon "THE FAMOUS ADVENTURES OF MR. MAGOO."

First and most importantly, down through the years, I have done computer searches for old cartoons that my son Andrew was never exposed to. So it was surprising to me that Magoo was never included and that to this day, Andrew has still never seen it.

Mr. "Quincy" Magoo originated from UPA Animation Studios in 1949 with Jim Backus (Thurston Howell III, from GILLIGAN'S ISLAND as the voice). In case you are very young or have lived in a cave for the last sixty years, the gimmick with this character was...whether it was forgetfulness or vanity...Magoo was a kind and wealthy old man needed to wear his glasses...but never did.

The original cartoons were shown in theaters. In them, Magoo was depicted in literary classics like "ROBIN HOOD," "DON QUIXOTE' or "GUNGA DIN." I don't remember seeing any of those, however I enjoyed him in the TV special from 1962, as Scrooge, in "Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol."

There was such a demand for more Magoo that they made the Saturday morning cartoon series that I already mentioned...which I loved. Unfortunately, the producers were forced to work quickly and on a skinny budget. Therefore the series lacked the quality of the previous work and didn't make it past two seasons.

I am guessing that Magoo has never made it on CARTOON NETWORK, NICKELODEON or the TV LAND CHANNEL because in these politically correct times...perhaps the sight impaired majority of us might, somehow find Magoo's nearsighted frolics as offensive. He also had an Chinese houseboy (Charley) who projected every Asian stereotype known to man. It sparked enough of a controversy that Cholley (as he called himself) was dropped in Mr. Magloo's second season.

For you trivia nuts, Magoo was a graduate of Rutgers. he frequently wore a full-length beaver coat to the football games, although he never actually made it there. He had two scheming nephews named Waldo and Prezley and a cat named Bowser...who he thought it was dog.

If you like, go to Wikipedia for more blind stabs in the dark about Magoo.

And let's not forget his famous closing words, "Oh Magoo, you've done it again !

THANKS TO JUSTPAT !

We had an excellent Thanksgiving with new friends. Everything from soup to nuts was great...even though they served neither soup nor nuts. The pre-meal spread alone was worthy of a king. Plus, the actual turkey and the various accouterments that went along with it were deliciously gourmet.

Now four days later just when it seemed that our cup of life's bounty had runneth over...our house has been blessed with the unexpected gift of life...a visit from the stork! Albeit a mechanical stork and a computerized baby that I named JUSTPAT!

In our school district, eighth graders as a part of their Life Skills course are presented with a computerized doll. This doll, I nicknamed it JUSTPAT because it came with pink clothes but when we removed its diaper, it had standard (okay maybe a little better than standard) male equipment.

The assignment identifies to middle school kids the harsh realities, responsibility and the consequences of unexpected/unwanted pregnancies.  These lessons are eloquent yet simple because each student is equipped with a non-removable scanner attached to their wrist and that activates their doll.

The student is expected to react to the different cries than the baby is programmed for. By swiping the scanner at the appropriate times, the Life Skill teacher can judge the level of care that the eighth grader alone provides.

In conjunction with the scanner, the student keeps a running log and identifies the time, length and type of aid provided. If necessary (and it's VERY necessary), the student will also identify any snags along the way.

My son Andrew brought Justpat home at 2:30PM yesterday.  By 3, we all were in a tizzy (even our dog Roxy felt the pressure) from the faux baby's incessant crying.



A CHART IDENTIFIES THE DIFFERENT CRIES.  TOGETHER WITH HIS SUPPORTIVE FAMILY, IT'S ANDREW'S JOB TO UNDERSTAND THE DIFFERENT CIRCUMSTANCES AND ADDRESS THE PROBLEM PROPERLY.

 At first, this was so difficult and time consuming...if you don't hold the bottle right, the baby won't get fed and it will cry or you might have to burp it for twenty minutes before you hit the "sweet-spot." So if the baby is crying to be changed and you feed it, it will continue to cry. If it needs to be burped and you comfort it, it will continue to cry.

The student's receiving the highest grades for this project manage to go about their normal daily routine and make minor adjustments to care for the infant. This was one area that wasn't happening for Andrew. He was so rapt in self doubt and worry that rather than take JUSTPAT with him, he was forced to cancel with friends.

The doll even comes with a tilting neck. So when you coddle it or put it to sleep, the correct angle for comfort must be maintained. Further and most importantly new-born mechanical babies don't sleep through the night. On one hand this a major problem for the student but in the case of my wife Sue who works graveyard shift, the doll's cries during the night cost her valued sleep.

We are half way through this two-day ordeal and the message of practicing safe sex has become abundantly clear to Andrew. Beyond that, a valuable lesson in ALL of life's responsibility is learned and perhaps best of all...for Andrew...just because you aren't good at something...something you may not like doing...with patience, accepting assistance through networking and hard work...things that seem impossible CAN be done.

Yesterday started slow and ended rather well. I didn't see Andrew this morning but I was told that he was bursting with pride. I fully expect today will be a lot easier.

I as I type, Andrew has returned from school. So, here we go again.

I think JUSTPAT will be a lifetime memory for all of us but I'm certain that on Wednesday morning, Andrew will throw the damned thing back at the teacher! Cross your fingers that we get through this last day and hopefully, we'll laugh when its over...

HARVEY'S WAGON WHEEL CASINO

My son, his schoolmates, their administrators and the entire school district have been forced to endure bomb scares at his school both this year and last.. Luckily, they've all been hoaxes. Instigators at that age are overwhelmingly; pranksters, or calling out for attention or desperate to delay a test. Therefore because of situations like Columbine Colorado, each threat is rightfully taken seriously.

So whenever there is a "lock down" or an evacuation at the school, student households are notified by a computer generated phone message. Regardless of how much of an optimist you are, you can't help but worry, will THIS be the time!

This past Tuesday November 13th, there was a bomb scare and hostage situation at the Showboat Casino. For those of us who work next door at the Taj Mahal Casino, the six-hour siege was unnerving.

Overall, we all maintained a business as usual attitude but you couldn't help but think, WHAT IF...!

Like the situation with my son's school, attacks such as bomb scares in casinos are rare. Still, tension grew as "eye-witness" reports were leaked to us. Perhaps its human nature but as the night wore on, these accounts got gorier. But in actuality, no shots were fired and none of the hostages got wounded or killed.

Since the Showboat ordeal, I spoke to several of my co-workers and they were all convinced that nobody has ever blown-up a casino...but its NOT true.

When I lived in Las Vegas, I flew up to Reno on three occasions. One of those times was in May 1980. I visited the friend that I only refer to in my stories with pseudonyms or as Mr. K. because, his ways of making extra cash and meeting women are less than complimentary. Anyway...Mr. K. takes me to Lake Tahoe, specifically Stateline Nevada and we wind up in Harvey's Wagon Wheel Casino.
I remember we were standing in line to cash-out our chips when Mr. K. asked a stranger if he had a green chip ($25.00). This knucklehead hands one over to Mr. K. and Mr. K. proceeds, through sleight-of-hand and the magic words, "Now you see it...now you don't," to make the chip vanish. The man was mildly impressed and asked for his chip back. Mr. K. went through another series of gyrations and produced a white ($1.00) chip seemingly from thin air. The man complimented his act and again asked for his green chip. Mr. K. was giving him some double-talk as the man's turn in line with the cashier came up. At that point, he became angry and demanded satisfaction. When Mr. K. told the guy that he was nuts...that he started with a dollar chip, I had to step between them to protect Mr. K.

Only when the man called-out for security did Mr. K. relent and say, "Man, you can't take a joke, can you."

Well, three months later on August 27th, a disgruntled Harvey's customer named John Birges tried to extort 3 million dollars from the casino by having a 1200-pound bomb delivered to Harvey's; hidden inside a photo-copier.

I'm unclear of the reasoning but the casino and hotel were indeed evacuated and the FBI "safely" detonated the bomb. However, the explosion cut a crater in the building up to the third floor. Harvey's was originally built in 1944 and had a 12-story tower added in 1961. So I'm guessing the 'ol wagon wheel was ready for renovations anyway.

Birges was tried and convicted to life in prison. He was still in jail when he died in 1996.

I sometimes wonder if the man Mr. K. tried to con was this Birges fellow and if perhaps it was Mr. K. who was the proverbial straw that broke the mad-bomber's back.

VETERAN'S DAY & THE "THIRD MAN" DIDN'T MAKE THE TOP 100?

In observance of Veteran's Day, regardless of your politics, please support our active troops. And while you're at it, give pause to thank all the servicemen and women...past, present and future who have risked their lives for our great country.

Also, as with any holiday, take a minute to remind the youngsters in your household why today is so special.

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The American Film Institute (AFI), to celebrate the 10th anniversary of its 100 greatest American movies list, has made revisions. In conjunction with the BRAVO Network, AFI produced a TV special which I enjoyed, that included a montage of each movie that made the 2007 list.

When it comes to movies, we all have our favorites, but because there is such a wide scope of elements that serve as the criteria to what makes art...nobody could possibly agree with all AFI's choices. A perfect example is, "CITIZEN KANE" at #1, I feel the honor of this being the greatest film EVER has been earned but for aesthetic reasons (groundbreaking film-making technology) rather than pure entertainment.

Personally, I liked to be moved. Two of my favorites, "ITS A WONDERFUL LIFE" and "CITY LIGHTS" both brought tears to my eyes just in the two or so minutes that AFI spent on it. They were deservedly placed prominently on the list but only the most avid movie nuts know them.

I'd rather talk about favorites that didn't make the list like the "EXORCIST" which is probably my all-time #1. But again, we are all too familiar with it. That's why I want to enlighten many of you and turn you onto "THE THIRD MAN."

"THE THIRD MAN" (1949) was based on the novel by Graham Greene. It was filmed on location in what was left of bombed-out Vienna Austria. This classic film noir features one of, if not the greatest movie villains of all time Harry Lime (Orson Welles). Lime is an American black-marketeer specializing in medical drugs (penicillin). But in the opening scene we find out that Lime was killed in an auto accident, (or was he).
With 1950 Vienna pulled in many directions due to Cold War tension, an Englishman spear-heads the investigation of Lime's death. At the funeral, we meet Holly Martins (Joseph Cotten) who came from the U. S. to accept a job working for Lime. Using liquor to loosen his tongue, the police chat (interrogate) him and are convinced that he knows nothing about Lime's illicit practices. Later, they inform Martins of their suspicions about Harry. Martins, in disbelief begins a crusade to clear his friend's name. His investigation leads to Harry's Russian girlfriend.

Together the two innocents stumble onto a witness (the superintendent of Harry's building) who was afraid to speak with the authorities. This man contradicts Harry's two friends who were apparently the only eye-witnesses by saying..."the dead man had THREE men help him to the curb...the third man then vanished." Could Lime be the third man? Did he fake his own death to throw the police off his trail?

Soon thereafter, the superintendent is murdered and off we go! We are led through the dark rubble piles of the city to the accompaniment of haunting (almost to the point of annoying) zither solos. Towards the end, Harry Lime finally steps out of the shadows and we hear his sentiments from atop a Ferris Wheel, about his greed and the insignificance of the average ant-like people below.

To catch a rat like Harry Lime, it was apropos that the movie ends with a chase scene through the sewers.

This is truly a great movie worthy of being in AFI's top 100. However, another agency, the Internet Movie Data Base (IMDB) does rate the "THIRD MAN" as #48 in their top 250 movies of all time.

For immediate gratification, you can go to IMDB.com and find the trailer for the "THIRD MAN." When you do, I can guarantee that you'll find the zither music at least interesting. More importantly, I think it'll whet your appetite to see the actual movie.

Turner Classic Movies (TCM) frequently broadcasts it, or you should be able to rent it. Also, remember your local library lends movies...that means FREE! Even if they don't have what you want on the premises, they can computer search the whole country for a library that has the book, music CD or movie you want...FREE!

"SLITHER" THE MOVIE and "XVQJX," is NOT a word !

In the summer of 1974 RBOY12  and I had a working vacation in Florida at DisneyWorld. He stayed on at the Magic Kingdom the whole time but right after the 4th of July, I quit for a better job, as a waiter at the Kissimmee Red Lobster.

I won't go into specifics because each link in the chain of events that led me there is a story in itself, I will say; I met two guys (Bob and Ronnie) from South Carolina who were also disenchanted with the Disney employment thing.

Sometime after they left Disney, I was on a date with  "C" (a co-worker). She was going to drop me off but we decided to listen to live music at the Contemporary Hotel just outside Disney. Afterwards, we had a disagreement over trivialities like, which version of Mambo (dance) was more authentic...the Canarsie or Weehawken style...and the next thing I knew, I was being asked (told) to leave the car.

Well, after about an hour of unsuccessful hitch-hiking on a dark country road about 25 miles from where I lived, a million to one shot happened. Bob, (of Bob and Ronnie), noticed me as he drove to our apartment complex's shuttle bus back from Disney.

He told me that the next night, he and Ronnie were starting as waiters at the Red Lobster in Kissimmee. His description left a powerful and  positive impact on me. A couple of days later, my Disney manager served me an oral reprimand for not smiling enough.  Yes, even in that "joyous" work environment, a mere trash picker-upper was expected to live-up to entertainment standards. 

The next day, I sought out the South Carolina boys and asked the if Red Lobster was still hiring. They shrugged and Bob said, "There's only one way to find out."

                              TWO DAYS LATER, I ENTERED RED LOBSTER'S NEW EMPLOYEE                                                                       ORIENTATION PROGRAM. 

The three of us immediately became close friends.  They were from a rural town called Easley, in Pickens County, at the western tip of South Carolina. We embraced the cultural differences between their gentlemanly Mayberry-like upbringing and my Canarsie swag.

These differences especially with phraseology stick with me today. Something simple like basketball being called,  hoops," was as absurd to them as saying "XVQJX" was a word. They also couldn't come to grips with their tennis shoes being called sneakers. And me, I still laugh that they pronounced Cadillac, " Ka-Diddly-AK."  But the funniest difference was that they added the word "coke" to the end of whatever soda they were talking about, like "Orange-Coke," 7-Up-Coke" or even "Pepsi-Coke."

It may be an insignificant reference, I doubt even RBOY12 would remember that they said that but...down through the years I have repeated that story and it sounds so ridiculous... that people think I'm making it up. Well, for the first time in over 33 years that phrase has resurfaced.

At a recent visit to KURUDAVE's house, PCShmee brought over a movie called "SLITHER" from 2006. I'm not really a Sci-Fi guy but as an excuse for some rare hangout time with friends, it worked for me.  

SLITHER was comedic horror movie clever enough to earn an 87% on Rotten Tomaotes.  Presumably it takes place in the south because of all the southern references but the scenery looks more like Minnesota (perhaps that was part of the director's humor).

During the climatic big ending, the mayor, while his town is being inundated with slug-like aliens and zombied townsfolk goes into panic mode.  He struggles to get out of his office but stops at his cooler to find that he doesn't have any soda left and exclaims, "I can't believe I already drank my last Mr. Pibb-Coke."

IN 1972, COCA COLA DEBUTED ITS SPICY CHERRY CREATION, "PEPPO."  IN 1974, THE NAME CHANGED TO "MR. PIBB." 

I thought my head was going to explode. I insisted that the movie paused and told KURU and PC about Bob, Ronnie and the southern tendacy to add the word "coke". But the coincidence went over their heads because they didn't know Mr. Pibb was Coca-Cola's version of Dr. Pepper (only available down south). So the fact that the mayor added coke to Mr. Pibb compounded the meaninglessness.

Many of my blogs are exaggerations of real vignettes from my life. This is necessary because I'm trying to entertain, not report the news. So, I freely admit boast of a 15% embellishment factor, (especially involving violence, sex, drugs and rock-n-roll). Unfortunately, my insecurities kick-in when the far-fetched truth is challenged.  That's why a silly movie like SLITHER was so important to me.  It's called, "VALIDATION."

I don't know whatever happened to Bob and Ronnie. But I wonder if they ever lived-up to their big life ambition of switching the "W" with the "A" on the Kissimmee WAFFLE HOUSE sign.  That might seem implausible, but I might be in need of a little validation...already.