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I can't see the speck in Mel Gibson's eye; I've got a big plank in my own
July 31, 2006Had his evening ended with only a DUI charge, the world would have laughed at Mel Gibson.
Non-believers take great pleasure out of watching Christians stumble.
It makes them feel good about themselves.
Christians are supposed to be better than them.
And when we’re not -- when we’re just another one of those “religious hypocrites,� it covers them in a security blanket.
When a drunken Gibson got pulled over for doing 87 in a 45 mph zone on the Pacific Coast Highway Friday morning, he just drove one more nail into the cross.
After standing up for Jesus by directing the 2004 movie “Passion of the Christ,� Gibson had fallen from grace -- not from the grace of God, but from the grace of man.
So the world laughed.
Then it got much worse.
Proverbs 11:12 says “A man who lacks judgment derides his neighbor, but a man of understanding holds his tongue.�
Alcohol has a way of making fools out of wise men.
After being stopped with a blood alcohol content of .12, Gibson lost control of his tongue.
And how!
He allegedly went into a drunken tirade making anti-Semitic remarks and yelling out that “the Jews are responsible for all the wars in the world.�
He has since apologized.
"After drinking alcohol on Thursday night, I did a number of things that were very wrong and for which I am ashamed. I acted like a person completely out of control when I was arrested, and said things that I do not believe to be true and which are despicable. I am deeply ashamed of everything I said, and I apologize to anyone who I have offended."
"I have battled the disease of alcoholism for all of my adult life and profoundly regret my horrific relapse."
His apology could not be heard over the laughter...
To the world, Mel Gibson is just another Jim Baker, another Jimmy Swaggart, another Robert Tilton -- just one more all-talk, no-walk Christian who is no better than them.
But isn’t that the reason for the passion of the Christ?
That no one is righteous -- no not one?
Think about it.
Posted by at 9:14 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)
Happy Burgerday to you!
July 28, 2006Today is the 106th birthday of the hamburger.
Or at least one of them.
Louis Lassen began serving hamburgers at his small lunch counter (Louis’ Lunch) in New Haven, Conn., on July 28, 1900. Those burgers, served on toasted bread instead of a hamburger bun with no condiments were sold from that original location into the 1970s. The lunch counter was then moved to make room for a high rise.
Others claim Louis just followed their lead.
In his 1951 obituary in the Los Angeles Times, Frank Menches is acknowledged as the “inventor� of the hamburger. He and his brother Charles claim they started serving hamburgers at the Erie County Fair in Hamburg, N.Y. in the early 1880’s.
They ran out of pork for their hot sausage patty sandwiches and substituted beef.
The Menches family is still in the restaurant business and serving burgers in Akron, Ohio. The town annually plays host to the National Hamburger Festival to celebrate the invention.
And then there was a guy named Grandpa Oscar who had a farm just west of Tulsa. He served his hamburgers on Grandma Fanny’s homemade yeast buns and has laid claim to being the inventor of the hamburger on the bun in 1891.
Many others have claimed to be the inventor of the hamburger.
Heck, you can even go all the way back more than 800 years to the time of Genghis Khan. Old Genghis’ Mongol horsemen stayed in their saddles for days and needed food that could be carried and eaten easily with one hand while they rode.
It is said that flat patties were made from scrapings of lamb or mutton and place under their saddles of their horses. When lunch or supper time cam, they took the meat out and ate it raw.
And you just thought that last Big Mac tasted a bit strange.
The oldest hamburger chain in America is White Castle Hamburgers, the brainchild of a Wichita, Kan., fry cook in 1921.
The person who played a significant role in the popularity of hamburgers was J. Wellington Wimpy. A character in the Popeye comic strip, Wimpy loved to eat hamburgers and was always trying to con people to pay for them.
“I’d gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today.�
But the real granddaddy of the hamburger is Ray Kroc, who opened his first McDonald’s in 1955.
Today McDonald’s is in 118 countries and territories and serves around 50 million customers each day.
The stores stopped publicly counting hamburger sales in 1994, but McDonald’s reportedly has sold well over 100 billion burgers over the last 51 years.
The biggest hamburger screwup of all time is Wendy’s.
Hamburger patties just weren’t meant to be square.
A lot of places claim to be “Hamburger Capital� of something, but you won’t any town that has find as many really good burger joints as we have right here in Wichita Falls.
Here are my favorites:
1. Pat’s Drive Inn
2. Ronnie’s Burgers
3. Scott’s Drive In
4. Gene’s Tasty Burger
5. Matlock’s Grill
6. Oyster Bar
7. Stanley’s (home of the beanie burger)
8. Glass Kitchen
9. River Creek Golf Course (officially Burkburnett, but close enough)
10. Parkway Grill
Then there is Herd’s Burgers in Jacksboro; Kincaid’s Grocery in Fort Worth; Meers Burgers up in the Wichita Mountains; Johnny’s in Oklahoma Cit; the Humphrey Burger at Bar-L and others.
Man, this is making me hungry.
I think I’ll go celebrate the burger’s birthday.
Posted by at 8:08 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)
Andrea Yates deserved this 'mulligan'
July 27, 2006It would be easy to be angry over the Andrea Yates verdict.
It would be easy to just strap this woman to a gurney and shoot her up with a super-sized dose of lethal injection.
After all, she murdered her five children. She deserves to die.
It would be easy to think that way.
It would be easy to be wrong.
Andrea Yates deserved this mulligan.
The phrase “by reason of insanity� has been carelessly tossed around in American courtrooms for years.
Lawyers, working for their murdering clients, have misused it as a defense when there was nothing to really defend.
For that reason we all become a bit skeptical when we hear “by reason of insanity.�
But there is a big difference between insanity and evil.
Insanity is a disease.
No one chooses to be insane.
Evil is an attitude.
People choose to be evil.
Those cartoons we have all seen with the devil sitting on one shoulder whispering “Do this� and an angel sitting on the other shoulder whispering “Don’t do it� are simple portrayals of a complex problem.
Andrea Yates is insane.
She needs treatment, not punishment.
She belongs in a mental hospital, not a maximum security prison.
This time the State of Texas got it right.
Posted by at 8:51 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)
Sweet Dreams!
July 26, 2006When I want you in my arms
When I want you and all your charms
Whenever I want you
All I have to do
Is Dream... Dream Dream Dream
Just the other day, I was telling my wife how dreams are stupid and meaningless.
Or at least mine are.
The night before I killed a prostitute but someone else got arrested for the murder. When someone brought evidence to my son that his Dad was the real killer, he had to make a decision -- Send Daddy dear to prison and free an innocent guy or let dear Daddy run free and let the innocent guy become Big Bubba’s new girlfriend.
I woke up in prison, and thank God, never met Big Bubba.
Like I said, my dreams are always goofy.
I can make you mine
Taste your lips of wine
Any time, night or day
Only trouble is
Gee Whiz
I'm dreamin' my life away
I know of people who have dreamed they were in the bathroom and peed the bed.
Some of my guy friends have told me they have met some really sexy chicks in their dream -- if you know what I mean.
The two or three times that I have, I always woke up prematurely -- then tried to get back to sleep as quickly as possible to see if she would come back.
Every night I hope and pray a dream lover will come my way
A girl to hold in my arms and know the magic of her charms
'cause I want (yeah-yeah yeah) a girl (yeah-yeah yeah)
to call (yeah-yeah yeah) my own (yeah-yeah)
I want a dream lover so I don't have to dream alone
I used to listen to a radio talk show in Dallas which frequently had a woman guest who claimed to be able to interpret dreams.
“Last night, I dreamed that I was a musher competing in the Iditarod sled race in Alaska.I fell in love with the lead dog and woke up with a real craving for Alpo.� Can you tell me what that means?�
“Oh yes,� the woman answers. “It should be cold in North Dakota next February."
Ooh dream weaver
I believe you can get me through the night
Ooh dream weaver
I believe we can reach the morning light
Fly me high through the starry skies
Maybe to an astral plane
Cross the highways of fantasy
Help me to forget today's pain
Most of us are living the American Dream.
We eat Dreamsicles.
We watch “I Dream of Jeannie�
TNT’s newest Stephen King’s anthology is “Nightmares and Dreamscapes.�
We love our dream songs.
All the leaves are brown
And the sky is gray
I've been for a walk
On a winter's day
I'd be safe and warm
If I was in L.A.
California dreaming
On such a winter's day
Just Google dreams and you will find a hundred Web sites who will interpret your dreams.
They are all bogus.
But what I told my wife was also wrong.
Dreams mean something. I just don’t know what.
How do I know?
The Bible tells me so.
In Genesis 40: 9, Joseph says “Interpreting dreams is God’s business.�
And all through the Good Book, God talks to people in dreams.
Now all we need to do is separate the God from the goofy.
I will end this with a little Patsy Cline.
Sweet dreams of you
\Things I know can't come true
Why can't I forget the past, start loving someone new
Instead of having sweet dreams about you
Sweet dreams
Posted by at 9:11 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)
Cruise control is out of whack
July 25, 2006In my humble opinion, there has never been an actor like Paul Newman.
From Hud to Hustler to Harper to Hombre.
He was Billy the Kid and Butch Cassidy.
He was Judge Roy Bean of Pecos, Texas and Gov. Earl Long of Louisiana.
He was Fast Eddie Felson, and Cool Hand Luke Jackson.
He drove race cars at Indy and he hit Slap Shots on the ice.
Has anyone pulled off a better Sting than he and Robert Redford?
He was a gigolo to Alexandra Del Lago and a husband to Liz Taylor. But the love of his life was Joanne Wood, his wife of 48 years.
Paul Newman was also a successful businessman. Newman’s Choice started with salad dressing and has expanded to pasta, lemonade, popcorn and salsa.
The profits go to helping others.
More than $200 million has gone to things like the Hole in Wall Gang Camp, a residential summer camp for seriously ill children in Connecticut that he co-founded.
What a great man Paul Newman is.
And for awhile, I actually thought Tom Cruise just might be the next Newman.
Boy, was I wrong.
One of my favorite movie scenes is in The Color of Money, where Cruise -- playing Vincent Lauria -- is showing off on a pool table to the tune of “Werewolves of London.�
Ironically, Cruise and Newman were in that movie together.
Newman was the old pool hustler on his way out.
Cruise was the new pool hustler on his way in.
(Or so we thought.)
I didn’t realize at the time how that movie accurately reflected so much on the lives of these two men.
In the movie Fast Eddie told Vincent he would be a great hustler because “you’re a character.�
“He said I have character,� Vincent says to his girl friend.
“No,� Newman replies. “I said you are a character.�
There is a big difference, and Cruise’s life has shown us that.
My favorite Cruise movies were
Jerry Maguire,
A Few Good Men,
Rain Man
Days of Thunder
Young Guns
The Color of Money
Top Gun
Collateral
But I probably won’t watch another one.
The guy is just too goofy.
This Church of Scientology crap has turned him into a real nut.
Our first glimpse into his nuttiness was when Cruise criticized actress Brook Shields for taking antidepressants for her postpartum depression. Scientology, he said, thinks that’s all a bunch of bunk.
Shields had a great response.
She told him he “should stick to saving the world from aliens.�
Then she offered to give him two tickets to see her London production of “Chicago.� One for an adult and one for a child.
Cruise’s girlfriend Katie Holmes is 16 years younger than him.
Then he got into a spat with director Stephen Speilberg when he criticized giving the drug Ritalin to kids with ADD.
Truth is Speilberg was probably madder about the fact that Tom was talking more about Scientology than he was his new movie “War of the Worlds,� which bombed at the box office.
Now, three months after the birth, people are still waiting to see Tom and Katie’s baby daughter.
The only one who claims to have seen Baby Suri is a fellow Scientologist.
Why should I believe someone else who’s nuttier than a fruitcake?
Posted by at 9:06 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)
Finders keepers, losers weepers
July 24, 2006On his way out of a restaurant one night, a friend of mine found a $5 bill on the floor.
He picked it up and stuck it in his pocket.
All the way home, his wife bitched at him.
The bitching went on and on for several days.
She kept telling him he should have given the five bucks to a waitress.
“Why?� he asked. “It wasn’t hers.�
At church the following Sunday, I told my buddy’s wife that he was right and she was wrong.
“It’s right there in your Bible -- ‘Finders keepers, losers weepers’ � I said.
Although I was joking with her about that, I did point out two Bible verses that might shut her up.
Matthew and Luke both agreed with her husband.
Matthew 7:7 and Luke 11:9 say “Seek and ye shall find.�
Well, there was a story in our paper on Sunday about a homeless guy in Detroit who was rummaging through trash bins looking for returnable bottles. Instead, he found a bunch of U.S. savings bonds worth close to $21,000 in a bag of old clothes.
They belonged to a dead guy whose family had tossed the old clothes and the loot into the garbage.
Now, if he had been reading his Bible, the homeless guy would have known the money was his.
But instead, he took it to a shelter. A staffer there tracked down the family of the man whose name was on the bonds.
“They belong to him,� the homeless guy told The Detroit News. “I did right thing.�
For being a “Good Samaritan,� the man received a $100 reward from the dead guy’s son.
A hundred bucks!
These days a hundred bucks won’t keep you in cheap wine until the end of the month.
What kind of cheap ass would give a guy a hundred bucks for returning 21 thousand?
You can take that hundred bucks and stick in where the sun don’t shine.
A thousand dollars would have been the least he should have given him.
If I ever find $21,000, I know what kind of reward I’m getting --- $21,000.
“Finders keepers, losers weepers.�
Posted by at 8:28 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)
Bob Barker is my hero
July 21, 2006Bob Barker is my hero.
No, it’s not because he is rich and has long legged beautiful women working around him every day.
Nor is it because every woman in America seems to want to touch him, hug him and kiss on him.
It's not even because he has hair.
Although I wouldn’t mind all of that, it’s not what makes me admire this man.
Bob Barker began his career as a game show host back in 1956.
Now 50 years later -- at age 82 -- he is still on the job and doing it better than ever.
That’s what I hope to do.
I know a lot of my friends talk about how great retirement is going to be.
But I don’t want to retire.
I love what I do.
I want to do it forever.
I want to be Bob Barker.
When the calendar hits 2022, I want to be like Bob -- celebrating my 50th year in the business -- and having people say I am as enthusiastic about my job at age 76 as I was at age 26.
And I am doing it better than ever before.
Give it up for Bob.
The guy was born during the Calvin Coolidge administration.
Lou Gehrig was a rookie.
Bob Barker is 14 years older than Bob Eubanks
He’s five years older than Dick Clark.
He’s even five years older than Mickey Mouse.
Yet you can turn on your TV set to CBS at 10 any weekday morning and there he is -- white-haired Bob Barker ---- hosting another hour of the Price is Right.
He worked on a game show called Truth or Consequences for 18 years, but nobody remembers him for that.
Bob Barker is the Price is Right.
This show has had three other hosts -- Bill Cullen, Dennis James and Tom Kennedy -- but Barker has been the face of this show since Sept. 4, 1972.
That’s 34 years.
1972 -- that’s the same year than I started working here at the paper.
We’ve both been on the job for 34 years.
When you love your job, you will keep getting better at it as the years go by.
Bob Barker is proof of that.
That’s why he’s my hero.
Posted by at 9:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)
Not now, Lord, I've got a 1:30 meeting
July 19, 2006I really believe that when Christ's second coming happens, most Americans will be stuck in some meeting.
When that final trumpet sounds, many of us will wake up, sit straight up in our chair sand start nodding our heads in agreement to everything that the boss has been saying.
People here at the paper are always meeting about something.
Sometimes I think we have meetings to plan other meetings.
Just this week I was asked to attend a "weekend meeting." So today at 3:30, I will be in that meeting. It will follow my regular 1:30 SEF meeting.
SEF?
I really wonder how many of the 19 or 20 people who have to attend this weekly meeting really know what SEF stands for.
It's a meeting where the BB, the BC, CW, HR, IT, other TRN BS(s) and LOM get together and talk about things like CM, AR, PBS, DPS, PTO and various other subjects straight out of a can of alphabet soup.
In this meeting, unlike some of the others, I think the BB (big boss) really wants people to speak up and tell the truth, but that's hard for some of the other TRN BSs (big shots) to do, so the meeting is usually filled with a lot of smiling faces and nodding heads and "Yes sirs."
Then when it comes time on the agenda for LOM (little old me), the BB says, "Nick, do you have anything?'
I say "No sir." and go back to daydreaming about cold beer and my Wednesday night poker game.
I'm not even sure why LOM is at this meeting with all the TRN BS(s).
Comic relief and common sense are the only reasons I can think of.
Or maybe, since the BB that first put me on the list was a woman, I am there for my sexual magnetism.
My NMG meetings started years ago with three or four key editors in the newsroom management group.
That has now grown to 10 or 12.
It seems the newsroom now has more chiefs than indians.
(If indians offended any of you, let's put it this way -- It seems the newsroom now has more chiefs than mustangs.)
Sometimes at these meetings, I feel like I'm sitting on the deck of the Titanic listening to all of the other passengers commenting on how smooth the water is.
And then there are those daily budget meetings where decisions are made on how to play the news.
A monkey in a Minnesota zoo has three testicles? Page 1.
Armegedon? 8C.
Meetings -- what would we be without them?
Posted by at 8:07 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)
'Go Israel!' 'Boo Hezbollah'
July 18, 2006As for what’s going on in the Mideast these days, all I can say is…
“Go Israel.�
“Boo Hezbollah.�
Yep, any time there’s a fight between the Muslims and the Jews, I’m always on the side of the Jews.
For one thing, we have the same God.
The right one.
And we still have the same enemy.
So although the Jews missed the boat on the Messiah thing, Israel is still the good guy in all this mess, although I know that at times it may not look like it.
I like their style.
This is a country that has been in and out of captivity since the beginning of time.
Hitler tried like hell to wipe them off the face of the earth.
Terrorists, living in their own backyard, continually attack them.
Muslims don’t want peace with Israel. They want the extinction of Israel.
So the Jews fight for their very existence.
Remember Entebbe?
Back in 1976, four terrorists hijacked a flight from Athens to Paris carrying 248 passengers and a crew 12. They eventually landed at the Entebbe International Airport in Uganda, where they were joined by more terrorists.
They demanded the release of 40 Palestinians held in Israel and 13 others detained in foreign prisons or the would begin killing the hostages. Later, they released all of the hostages except for 103 Israelis and Jews.
Israel didn’t give in and didn’t back off.
They instead raided the airport, killed the terrorists and set 100 hostages free.
The standoff lasted all of six days.
It ended on July 4, 1976.
The same day the United States celebrated its bicentennial.
Symbolic?
If not, at least quite appropriate.
Uganda, which supported the terrorists and was behind the hijacking, went before the United Nations Security Council asking for condemnation of the Israel for the raid. The Council refused.
The Israeli ambassador to the U.N. had this “simple message� to the Council.
“We are proud of what we have done because we have demonstrated to the world that a small country, in Israel's circumstances, with which the members of this Council are by now all too familiar, the dignity of man, human life and human freedom constitute the highest values. We are proud not only because we have saved the lives of over a hundred innocent people — men, women and children — but because of the significance of our act for the cause of human freedom.�
To that, I say:
“Go Israel!�
“Boo Hezbollah!�
But what I say is not all that important.
Let’s hear what the real God says:
Genesis 12:3 “I will bless those who bless you and curse those who curse you.�
Psalms 122:6 “Pray for the peace of Jerusalem. May all who love this city prosper.�
Romans 11:28 “Many of the Jews are now enemies of the Good News. But this has been to your benefit, for God has given his gifts to you Gentiles. Yet the Jews are still his chosen people. �
Posted by at 9:07 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)
Chili Dog Gholson?
July 17, 2006Celebrities sometimes give their kids the strangest names.
Frank Zappa named his baby daughter Moon Unit.
Jermaine Jackson -- one of the Jackson 5 and the brother of Michael and Janet -- named his son Jermajesty. (Jermaine, whose middle name was LaJaune, later became Muhammad Abdul Aziz).
Urban legend had Grace Slick naming her baby girl 'god," but it was really China.
Maybe the stupidest name of all was the one former Texas Governor James Hogg gave to his only daughter.
She was Ima Hogg. (Strangely, she lived 93 years and never married and got rid of Hogg).
One year when I was covering the state track meet, there was a girl there named Miracle Fingers.
Also a few years back there was a girl high school basketball player in Texas named Dixie Land.
Why do people do this to their kids?
I mean, if your last name is Head, you don't name your son Richard -- unless you think it's funny that he go through life being called Dick Head.
And then there was the Ho family from China, who had a so named Phat.
I named my son Thomas Earle simply his maternal grandfather was Thomas and his paternal grandpa was Earle.
My daugher is Christina Mae. We wanted Christ in her first name. Her middle name was a honor to both her maternal and paternal great grandmothers.
My parents, however, named me after a beer joint.
When I was born, we lived at 710 Travis Street in Wichita Falls (now a parking lot west of the Hamilton Building).
Mama and Daddy drank beer at a little place called "Nick's", right around the corner.
"Nick's" -- famous for its great chili dogs -- was later torn down and replaced by the Robertson Building on Eighth Street (between Travis and Lamar) and across the street on the south side from the Hamilton Building.
The sandwich shop was turned over to another Greek and remained in the Robertson Building (which is now called Chelsea Place). The great chili dogs moved a few blocks away at what is now the 7th Street Sandiwch Shop.
So because a guy named Nick Jonas opened a nice little beer joint on 8th Street, I have been Nick for almost 60 years.
But I guess it could have been worse.
Mama and Daddy's favorite brand of beer was Pearl, so I could have been Pearl Gholson.
And they really loved those chili dogs. . .
Chili Dog Gholson?
Being named for a beer joint ain't so bad after all.
Posted by at 7:57 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)
Gone Fishing
July 14, 2006Taking a day off to recuperate from Peter Tork's show at Iron Horse last night and to play a little golf this afternoon.
If you need a Nick Fix, check out some of my old blogs today. Maybe you missed one.
See you Monday -- Nicky G
Posted by at 8:52 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)
Injury to a baby? Tighten that noose.
July 13, 2006Could I please sign up for jury duty?
Pretty please.
And could I please be put on the jury for the trial of the two women charged with injuring that 2-year-old baby?
Pretty please with lots of sugar on top.
The lead story on the front page of today's paper really pissed me off.
How could anyone hurt a 2-year-old?
A teen-ager? That's different. I can understand screaming obscenities into face of some smart-ass teen. And two-minute spanking might not be long enough.
But a 2-year-old baby girl?
The picture described in the paper is ugly.
Here's a 29-year-old live-in partner accusing her girlfriend's baby of "giving her a dirty look," jerking the baby out her high chair and thens haking her and yelling obscenities near her face as the 2-year-old screamed in fear.
And Mama just sat there and allowed it.
Her punishment would have been pouring hot sauce into the babys' mouth to shut her up.
Yeah, put me on this jury.
"Innocent until proven guilty," you politically-correct, do-gooder dip sticks may be shouting at me right now.
That's legal BS.
If these awful women are innocent, then I'm a Sheite Muslim.
In other words they are guilty until proven innocent.
I will sit on a jury and listen to the evidence. Then vote to hang them.
No, if all of this is not true -- and the evidence proves it -- I would let these women walk free but lock up the witness who accused them of these attrocities.Then hang her.
A friend of mine said the best punishment would be to simply make these women disappear.
But if we had a public hanging, we could sell popcorn. AND PAPERS.
Their last meal would be a mouthful of the hottest hot sauce we can find.
A baby is a gift from God.
Yeah, they cry.
Yeah, they pout.
Yeah, they crap their pants.
But once upon a time, so did you.
The physical scars will heal.
The emotional scars may last a lifetime.
I think I'm going to go find my little grandson and give him a big hug.
Posted by at 8:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)
Dont' screw up my grilled cheese sandwich with your olives, spinach and apricot jam
July 12, 2006You don’t have to be Wolfgang Puck to make a great grilled cheese sandwich.
All you really need is the IQ of a hockey puck.
I’m living proof that any idiot with two pieces of bread, a stick of butter, a couple of pieces of cheese and a frying pan can be a gourmet grilled cheese chef.
Now sometimes there is nothing better than a good grilled cheese sandwich -- grilled nice and crisp with the cheese oozing out of it.
My grandson’s 3-year-old taste buds have voted grilled cheese sandwiches as THE American breakfast, lunch and supper -- over hot dogs, corny dogs and blueberry pop tarts.
(I don’t think this kid has ever seen a vegetable.)
His love of grilled cheese is OK with grandpa because grilled cheese is about all I can cook.
That’s why I can’t figure why anyone would pay $16.95 to buy a cookbook titled “Great Grilled Cheese� and written by someone who would dare put apricot jam in a grilled cheese sandwich.
So as not to give this someone any more publicity than she deserves, I will simply call her “the nut.�
And in last Sunday’s paper (notice I don’t call it NEWSpaper anymore), we wasted three-quarters of a page of newsprint -- worth approximately $2,200 if it were advertising space -- to let some goofball writer from California tell us about this other nut’s cookbook.
The headline on the story read:
“Grilled cheese sandwiches come with all kinds of ingredients.�
And I said:
“That’s b… s….�
Right here and now I am going to give you my secret to making a great grilled cheese sandwich. And it won’t cost you $16.95. Of course, if you like it and see fit to send me cash, check of money order, it would be appreciated and used to buy more cold beer.
Here’s my secret.
Take two slices of white bread.
Spread the butter on the outside of each slice.
Put couple of slices of American cheese between each slice.
Place in a frying pan or on a griddle. Grill one side nice and crisp. Then flip it over and do the same to the other side.
Presto -- a great grilled cheese sandwich.
Garnish with a slice or two of pickle and some potato chips on the side, and you’ve got one gourmet dinner.
You see, I don’t want grilled cheese cocktails or grilled cheese appetizers.
Don’t trim the damn things into fingers and “use them like warm crouton-like garnishes on green salad�
I don’t want any of the following crap on my sandwich.
Baby spinach leaves.
Crumbled feta.
Chjopped kalamata olives.
Capers teamed with grated Gruyere
Roasted red bell pepper.
I don’t know what a kalamata olive is. Nor do I want to know.
I think Gruyere plays for some NHL team.
Keep your green apples off my grilled cheese.
Scrap the apricot jam.
And keep your dried figs in the cupboard.
And throw away that stupid sandwich press.
It makes a sandwich look like a Pop Tart.
White bread. Butter. Cheese.
And a frying pan.
Enjoy.
Posted by at 8:13 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)
Sharon had 'nothing to hide'; And boy am I glad she didn't
July 11, 2006What is the your most memorable scene from a movie?
Yesterday, I went around the office asking that question to some of my fellow workers. And, as you can imagine, I got a lot of different responses such as. . .
The airport farewell between Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Berman at the end of "Casablanca."
The shower scene with Janet Leigh in "Psycho."
The hot sex scene with Jack Nicholson and Jessica Lange in the remake of "The Postman Always Rings Twice."
Nicholson's "Here's Johnny" scene in "The Shining."
Then I threw in a couple of my favorites --
The cowboys eating beans and farting around the campfire in "Blazing Saddles" and
A drunk Lee Marvin singing "Happy Birthday to you" when he sees candles around the coffin of Cat Ballou's dead daddy.
And then there was that time that Jamie Lee Curtis went topless in "Trading Places."
All of those are good, but the very best movie scene of all for this dirty old man was Sharon Stone crossing and recrossing her legs in "Basic Instinct."
Without panties.
"I have nothing to hide," Sharon (in the role of Catherine Tramel) said to the cops when she waived her rights and agreed to be interrogated about the murder of her lover.
And she certainly didn't.
She lights a cigarette and smokes even though told not to by the cops, who are too busy drooling on themselves to enforce the no smoking rule.
Dressed in a white mini skirt, she sits in a chair and answers questions -- many of them about her sex life.
Nick: You never tied him up?
Catherine: No! Johnny liked to use his hands too much. I like hands -- and fingers.
So you see why this scene is really memorable to me. thelead detective (played by Michael Douglas) was named Nick.
And Sharon kept using his name -- our name -- with her answers.
"Did you ever (bleep) on cocaine, Nick?"
It is right then that she crosses her legs and reveals herself to Nick and Nick.
She pauses, then recrosses them for us.
The camera angle is pointing right up her skirt.
To quote the late great Elvis Presley:
"Lordamighty, I feel my temperature rising."
So why did this dirty old man choose to blog about this today?
Well, "Basic Instinct 2" comes out on DVD today and the poster for the movie has Sharon Stone sitting in a chair with her legs crossed.
She was 34 when she did Basic 1 and is now 48.
But the girl is still hot, hot, hot, hot, hot.
One movie reviewer wrote:
"For many people, the only reason to see “Basic Instinct 2� is to find out if Stone uncrosses her legs again.
She doesn’t. If I just saved you $8.50, consider donating it to charity."
The guy read my mind.
But forget charity. I'm going to buy the movie poster.
Posted by at 8:29 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)
Look, up in the sky! It's Julie Andrews,
July 10, 2006Maybe it's because I'm just getting old -- but I want Superman to be SuperMAN.
Not SuperBOY like this pretty boy imposter I saw at the movies this past weekend.
Where did find this kid -- in a Clearsill commercial?
You can masquerade this Brandon Routh up in form-fitting blue tights and a red cape and stick a big red S on his chest, but he' s just not Superman.
The flying part is a dead giveaway that this guy is an imposter.
Superman doesn't have a Mary Poppins takeoff.
Sweet-faced Brandon looks like Julie Andrews when he goes airborne. The only thing missing is the umbrella.
Come on, now, Superman has a rocket-life takeoff.
He extends his arms, pushes off and ZOOM -- there he goes, streaking through the sky faster than a speeding bullet.
Not like a helium balloon that slips out of some little kid's hand in the park.
And Superman is a virgin.
He's no one-night stand for Lois Lane like this new kid.
The guy is just too busy leaping tall buildings with a single bound to do the nasty with Lois.
But in this new movie, Superman has a 5-year-old son.
Oh, they call him Jason White -- not Jason Superman -- but the little kid, who is about the size of Carroll Wilson, yet he smashes some bad guy to death with a piano.
A chip off the old Super block.
This Superman is 26 years old, meaning he and Lois did it when he was about 20.
(Wonder if it was in a phone booth.)
But then for some reason he and Clark Kent both mysteriously leave Metropolis for six years and Lois writes that the world doesn't need Superman.
Hey, if Superman is really SUPERman, don't you think Lois would be spending those six years trying to get back in the sack with him rather than writing that he is not needed?
I was surprised to find out that Brandon Routh and Christopher Reeve were both 26 when they debuted as Superman.
I was just as surprised to find out that the REAL Superman -- the late, great George Reeve -- was 38 when his Super TV show debuted in 1952.
For me, Superman died when Reeve put that bullet in his brain 47 years ago.
You still may want to go see "Superman Returns."
Some of the special effects are great and Kevin Spacey was a great Lex Luthor.
But Brandon Routh needs to get out of Metropolis and move back to Smallville.
This is Superman's town, not Superboy's.
Posted by at 8:24 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)
Frank, Dean, Sammy and friends are dead, but the RAT PACK is still alive and in love
July 7, 2006Life is all about LOVE.
Love is a many splendored thing.
All you need is love.
Love me tender.
Jesus loves me, this I know. . .
Everybody loves somebody sometime.
We have tough love.
puppy love,
unconditional love,
Courtney Love (strike that).
The two greatest commandments of the New Testament are: To love God with everything you've got and to love your neighbor as yourself.
"And if I have prophecy and know all mysteries and all knowledge,
and if I have all faith so as to remove mountains,
but have not love, I am nothing."
We sit on a love seat.
We stop at Love's to buy gas.
We fly out of Love Field.
God is love.
Love is blind.
Love is in the air.
I Love Lucy
Everybody Loves Raymond.
"The love shack is a little old place where, we can get together.
Love shack baby."
It is good to love. All of us need to love and be loved.
But what kind of nutcase LOVES RATS?
Yep, you read right -- LOVES RATS.
There really is a Rats and Mouse Club of America -- with a purpose of providing good homes to needy rodents.
These Rat Lovers got all pissed off last week when they found out that an animal shelter in California had euthanized some 1,020 rats.
These were just some of the rats they found in a home where some weird guy was actually hoarding them inside his one-bedroom house.
PET RATS?
I'd much rather have a pet rock.
The guy probably would have had pet roaches, but the rats were much fuzzier and more fun to cuddle with.
He didn't love all of them. Some of those killed were the ones missing eyeballs or had teeth growing into the opoosite jaw or had huge abscesses with open wounds. Some were starving.
The guy was a real sicko, but he's not the real story here.
It's those rat loves who protested the "murder" of these little critters.
Here is a quote from the San Francisco Chronicle.
Phyllis Mason, a self-described lover or rats said: "This is an unspeakable injustice to those rats who deserved better."
The Rat and Mouse Club of America -- with an office in Los Angeles -- now has 30 of these rats available for adoption. I am sure they have a Web site if you would like to get one either for yourself or a Christmas gift.
But you will be checked out. They just don't hand out these rats to anyone.
"We're not going to give them to another home that is just as bad," one rat woman said.
If you don't have a pool and hot tub, you might not be able to adopt a rat.
But there is still hope.
According to the Chronicle story, "rats are commonly available in pet stores across the Bay Area."
Get one today and love it to death.
No, not "to death." That will bring out all the rat lovers.
Just love it -- tenderly and unconditionally.
Posted by at 8:09 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)
This is DQ Country, so where are the DQs?
July 6, 2006We have an El Gordo.
We have an El Chico I and an El Chico II.
We have an El Norteno and an El Patio.
We have an El Ranchita Villegas and will soon have a new El Mejicano.
We have Taco Bells, Taco Buenos and Taco Casas.
We have more Chinese restaurants than we have Chinese people.
Hungry for a bean burrito? No problem.
Want to order a pizza? There are many options.
Want a country basket or a chocolate dip cone or a Blizzard?
Forget it.
Or drive to Holliday.
There are more than 5,700 Dairy Queens located in the United State, Canada and 22 other countries.
Texas, with more than 600, has more DQs than any other state.
Holliday has one.
Archer City has one.
Henrietta has one.
Olney has one.
Nocona has one.
Jacksboro has one.
Graham has one.
Seymour has one.
But some strange reason, Dairy Queen no longer does business in Wichita Falls.
Thirty years ago, they were all over the place.
I can name nine former Dairy Queen locations here in town.
The first one was walk-up DQ in the 1900 block of 9th Street.
That little DQ at one time was about the only place in town where you could get a good burger.
And some of today’s best burger joins -- Scott’s, Gene’s, Pat’s and Ronnie’s -- had roots in that first DQ.
The building is now vacated, but the sign on the outside wall reads El Molca Jette -- 100% Mexican Food.
Next came what we used to call the Red Barn Dairy Queen on Jacksboro Highway. It is now Callahan Autoplex. The roof is no longer red.
Other former Dairy Queens in Wichita Falls are now:
Sunrise and Shine Omelet Grill on Jacksboro Highway.
Café Italia -- just south off Southwest Parkway on Fairway.
Texas Donuts --13th and Holliday.
Don Jose Mexican Restaurant -- 10th and Kemp.
What used to be Taco Mayo (and before that The Quarter Place) on Kemp.
Waffle Time -- 2009 Maurine Street.
The ninth one was across from the mall -- in the vicinity of Georgann’s Craft Mall -- but the building has been torn down.
If there was another DQ in town, I can’t remember it.
If you do, let me know.
Posted by at 8:15 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)
I do. I don't. I do. I don't. I do. I don't. I really do.
July 5, 2006My wife and I celebrated our sixth wedding anniversary on Tuesday.
"Big deal," you say. "I've had hangovers that lasted longer than that."
Well, for a guy like me, six consecutive years of matrimony is a big deal.
That might be the reason people shoot off fireworks every year on our anniversary.
You see, marriage is something I have never been very good at.
I'm too self-centered to make a good husband. Marriage is too much of a give-and-take deal. And I have always been better at taking than I giving.
So before Jenee,' I had said "I do" three times and followed it up with an "I don't" soon afterwards.
Since my first marriage didn't last as long as some Catholic weddings, I think I should get a mulligan.
My first marriage would have lasted a bit longer if there had only been one room -- the bedroom -- in our house. That's the only place we had anything in common.
The lesson learned from that is never marry for sex.
Then came Wife 2 and a new lesson.
Never marry as an obligation to parenthood.
Just because you get a woman pregnant doesn't mean you have to get married and make both of you and your children miserable for the rest of your lives.
Wife 2 and I stuck it out for 14 years until one summer day in 1989 when she ran off to Oregon to be with truck driver.
It broke my heart for oh, about 15 minutes.
Wife 3 and I were married for about six years, but we lived together only about half of that time.
The lesson I learned from that is never do the stepfamily thing -- especially when you each have two teenagers.
The third wife ran off and married a prisoner.
True story.
So everytime I see those 50 and 60-year wedding anniversary stories that we run in the paper on Sunday, i think to myself.
"Why didn't we put these stories on Page 1?"
For a guy like me who has said "I do" four times and said "I don't" three times.
For a guy like me, who had his fingers crossed on the "until death do you part" stuff.
--- well, people who stick it out for 50 years or more are real heroes.
They don't belong on Page 5C.
They belong on Page 1 -- with a big smiling picture.
So, you see, for me a sixth anniversary is a big deal.
Hopefully, I have learned from all my stupid mistakes, and at this time next year, I will be celebrating No. 7.
No, not Wife 7 --- Anniversary 7.
Posted by at 8:19 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)
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