Friday, February 26, 2010

Nature Strikes Back!



I read in today's Charleston Post and Courier that there is an alligator_lurking in the drainage pipes of swank Hilton Head Island. This dove-tails nicely with yesterday's story of the killer Killer Whale who 86'd his University of South Carolina educated trainer at Sea World. Can a Fox TV series be far behind?

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Night Court.

I had night court last light, which I generally don't have to do, and generally don't like. Unlike the old TV series, there wasn't a prosecutor there, and I was the only public defender. No John Larroquette, no Markie Post. No big lovable bailiffs. It was actually okay. No Bull.

Monday, February 22, 2010

Olympian Television Watching.

As a lad, I watched tons of TV. I'd schedule my week around the line-up. Things like presidential funerals and, well, the Olympics were an annoyance to me when I was a kid, because it messed with my schedule. As I got a little older, I welcomed the Olympics. It was a shared experience. Shared with the Country. Shared with my family. The Cold War gave it a special significance. It was IMPORTANT. The Russians stealing a basketball gold from us in the Summer of 1972; The Americans taking the Gold from the Soviets in the 1980 Winter Olympic "Miracle on Ice". Once in awhile, I still count Kazakhstan and Belarus and those other former Soviet Socialist Republics along with Russia to see how we stack up, but the Cold War is over. I don't watch as much TV as I used to, but still enjoy the Olympics... Cold War or not.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Lent.

Yesterday was Ash Wednesday, the start of Lent. It's a time of penitence and self-examination, representing a period of 40 days that Jesus was supposed to have spent in the wilderness examining himself and getting ready for his ministry. If Easter is the dessert- an up-beat culmination of Holy Week, then Lent is the Brussels Sprouts that we have to eat first. Discipline is a tricky subject for me. If I'm the one making the rules, I don't have a problem with it. In December, I completed a Marathon. Even though I wasn't real fast, the training took months, and involved getting out of bed way early to run in the cold, dark mornings before work. I played football from the time I was eight years old until I was 20 years old, and went to practice for hours and worked hard. Oddly, even though nobody made me play football (well, not after I was about 14, anyway), I always held a little something back. I was very fast for a guard, and I probably could have won all the windsprints at the end of practice, but I'd usually only try hard on the first couple of sprints, then "dog it" for the rest. If Coach told us we'd have ten sprints, I'd budget myself so I wouldn't be too tired at the end. I felt that the most unfair thing in the world was when Coach wouldn't tell us how many sprints we had, because I wouldn't know how much to save up for the end. I retrospect, it was very unlikely he was going to kill any of us (though with Coach Kolinski, you couldn't know for sure), but I just couldn't let go and go all-out. Couldn't do it. Wouldn't do it. I was a pretty good football player. No telling how much better I would have been if I would've given it my all. Maybe Lent's like that. Can I learn to accept discipline from anyone or anything else? Maybe. Maybe not.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

This Masquerade.

Lady Di and I went to a masquerade this weekend. Formal wear, masks, good food and ample alcohol. A good time was had by all. I think.

Saturday, February 13, 2010

Winter Wonderland.

It snowed last night in the Boro. It snowed really, rather a lot. Over the years we've gotten a dusting of snow. Last year we got there was enough snow to make itty, bitty car snowmen, but in the 22 years I've lived in the Lowcountry of South Carolina, I've not seen the likes of this.

Let's get a reaction from an area woman:

Thursday, February 11, 2010

A Nice Salad

If my mom ever went to France, she never mentioned it. Thus I remained perplexed at her insistence on serving a Nice_Salad with meals. You know, "Well, I guess we can have some pork chops, green beans, and a nice salad". Oh... "nice" with a long "I", not Nice like my brother's daughter. Gotcha. 'Course, I'm not really sure what "nice" adds to the description. Nice as opposed to what? "We can have some pork chops, and maybe a surly salad, because, frankly, I'm feeling rather churlish". Whatever. Diane served up a nice salad the other night. Glad she was in a good mood.

Sunday, February 7, 2010

Payton's Magic?



Is it just me, or does the New Orleans Saints Coach Sean Payton look a little like the ventriloquist dummy from the 1978 Movie Magic? Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy the Super Bowl, whether Miami ends up Peyton (Manning's) Place or (Sean) Payton's Place.

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Shall We Dance?



I'm no dancer. I actually took an introduction to shag-dance class at a local community college with my babymamma many moons ago. I, apparently, failed. At the conclusion of the class, Tina asked if we could take intermediate shag. The response: "You can; he can't". Don't get me wrong, I can move fine. My sense of rhythm is appropriate for my socio-economic status, and all (Hmmm... Actually, that may be the problem). Anyhow, my inability to adequately trip the light fantastic does not keep me from watching others dance, cinematically or otherwise. Over the last couple of weeks, NetFlix sent my bride-to-be an international trifecta of dance movies: Billy Elliot, Shall We Dance?, and Dirty Dancing.

"Billy Elliot" (2000) is about a boy from a working-class family in a British coal-mining town. His mom is gone, and his tough-guy dad wants him to box, as he, and his dad before him, had done. Billy is no boxer. Billy wants to dance, needs to dance. Will dad "get it"? Could the family afford to send Billy to an elite dance school if he did? Culture clashes and the obligatory try-out before an elite panel- ala Flashdance- ensue. Touching, and entertaining, with decent dancing.

"Shall We Dance" (1996) is a Japanese mid-life crisis film about a straight-laced accountant in a straight-laced society who finds joy in the forbidden world of ballroom dancing. Will his co-workers and his wife find out about his secret life? Will they understand if they do find out? Funny, dramatic, touching, with good (and bad) dancing. Here's a "Shall We Dance" Trailer.

Dirty Dancing" (1987). Oh, come on. You know this one. Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey's "Baby". Baby comes of age against the backdrop of a hoity-toity Summer Camp filled with arrogant Ivy-league camp counselors who use and abuse the downtrodden professional dancers to the beat of a great soundtrack. My perspective changed plenty since I first saw "Dirty Dancing" more than 20 years ago. Having a 19 year-old daughter'll do that for you. Big news when Patrick Swayze died last year, but fathers of daughters everywhere bemoaned the loss, a few years earlier, of Jerry Orbach, who played Baby's daddy.