What the hell is funnier than watching a horse riding in a car?
Thanks to my sister Claire for sending me this video yesterday, which left me howling.
Yes, it’s “Patches” the horse, riding in a convertible modified to accommodate his huge horse’s…….rear.
It’s one thing to stuff the horse inside the car, but then to drive around town and go through a fast food drive through, I almost spit coffee all over my desk watching Patches glide though the pickup window as if he were just another customer.
There have been over 2 million views of this video on YouTube, so forgive me if this is “old news” to you, but Fridays demand lighter fare on the Tim Moore blog, so I had to share this with you today:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=teHfyby_veU
Not only does Patches cruise through town, the wind blowing through his mane, but here’s a horse who watches TV, answers the phone and fetches a beer from the fridge.
Tucking in Patches into his bed for the night made me hope that this was one horse who was house-trained. If not, there is a smelly side to this story not included in the funny video extolling the virtues of Patches, the coolest horse ever.
Mr. Ed…eat your heart out.
If you’d like my blog in your weekday box, just let me know: tim.moore@citcomm.com
Friday, March 12, 2010
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Nomar's Red Sox Exit
The news was stunning in its brevity:
“Nomar Garciaparra will sign a one-day minor league contract with the Boston Red Sox—and then announce his retirement from baseball—as a Red Sox player.”
A mixture of pride and sadness comes across Red Sox Nation as one of its greatest players ever—leaves the game in such a manner. No shame in the minor leagues, to be sure, but a somewhat inglorious end for a player who meant so much for so long to Boston fans.
I was shocked when he was traded away—and yet I had heard about Nomar’s grumbling and public dissatisfaction. “That chemistry thing” is important—and if Terry Francona saw (correctly) that such a trade could finally help Boston win a World Championship in 2004 (which it did), then in hindsight it was a necessary move. At the time, I was in favor of the move. No one player is ever bigger than the team.
Still…the idea that Nomar didn’t get to share in the euphoria following that 2004 Championship has to nag at him—and all those Sox fans who feel his consistently stellar play over the years earned him the right to a ring. I guess, technically, he received a World Series ring since he was released within the championship year. Nevertheless, it must have been a hollow feeling.
Boston fans know their baseball—and while they are not quick to forgive those who exit for dollars alone (just ask Johnny Damon), they are also appreciative of those players who work hard and exhibit a passion for winning, despite their turbulent episodes.
Case in point----check out this homemade video of Nomar’s return to Fenway Park as an Oakland Athletic player in July of last year. This is the crowd reaction to his very first at-bat in Fenway with another uniform on:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=syy5yng6Q_c
Classy.
And classy was exactly how Nomar retired the other day, expressing gratitude to the Red Sox organization, to the fans and to the notion that despite his journey away from Boston as a pro baseball player, he was, in his heart—always a Red Sox player.
The rumor is that Nomar will throw out the first pitch on opening day at Fenway this season. I, for one, hope that his role is a WHOLE LOT bigger.
I’d like to see Nomar start the game against the Yankees at short---and be the leadoff batter in the home half of the inning.
One more inning.
One more at-bat.
One more chance to display for the fans the kind of excellence and passion that made him one of the all-time Red Sox greats.
Is it prudent to do so from strictly a competitive perspective? Probably not, but the Red Sox should demonstrate that they are a team and organization like no other. Unlike the Yankees, who dump Hideki Matsui—the WORLD SERIES MVP immediately after winning a championship (completely classless), the Boston Red Sox can afford the possibility that Nomar will let one go through his legs into Left Field—and/or strikeout. The fortunes of the 2010 campaign will not turn on one error or a single at-bat.
Who knows? One might see Mr.Garciaparra make just one more eye-popping play—or see him hit just one more over the Green Monster.
Hell, even Yankee fans might like to see that.
If you’d like my blog in your weekday box, just let me know: tim.moore@citcomm.com
“Nomar Garciaparra will sign a one-day minor league contract with the Boston Red Sox—and then announce his retirement from baseball—as a Red Sox player.”
A mixture of pride and sadness comes across Red Sox Nation as one of its greatest players ever—leaves the game in such a manner. No shame in the minor leagues, to be sure, but a somewhat inglorious end for a player who meant so much for so long to Boston fans.
I was shocked when he was traded away—and yet I had heard about Nomar’s grumbling and public dissatisfaction. “That chemistry thing” is important—and if Terry Francona saw (correctly) that such a trade could finally help Boston win a World Championship in 2004 (which it did), then in hindsight it was a necessary move. At the time, I was in favor of the move. No one player is ever bigger than the team.
Still…the idea that Nomar didn’t get to share in the euphoria following that 2004 Championship has to nag at him—and all those Sox fans who feel his consistently stellar play over the years earned him the right to a ring. I guess, technically, he received a World Series ring since he was released within the championship year. Nevertheless, it must have been a hollow feeling.
Boston fans know their baseball—and while they are not quick to forgive those who exit for dollars alone (just ask Johnny Damon), they are also appreciative of those players who work hard and exhibit a passion for winning, despite their turbulent episodes.
Case in point----check out this homemade video of Nomar’s return to Fenway Park as an Oakland Athletic player in July of last year. This is the crowd reaction to his very first at-bat in Fenway with another uniform on:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=syy5yng6Q_c
Classy.
And classy was exactly how Nomar retired the other day, expressing gratitude to the Red Sox organization, to the fans and to the notion that despite his journey away from Boston as a pro baseball player, he was, in his heart—always a Red Sox player.
The rumor is that Nomar will throw out the first pitch on opening day at Fenway this season. I, for one, hope that his role is a WHOLE LOT bigger.
I’d like to see Nomar start the game against the Yankees at short---and be the leadoff batter in the home half of the inning.
One more inning.
One more at-bat.
One more chance to display for the fans the kind of excellence and passion that made him one of the all-time Red Sox greats.
Is it prudent to do so from strictly a competitive perspective? Probably not, but the Red Sox should demonstrate that they are a team and organization like no other. Unlike the Yankees, who dump Hideki Matsui—the WORLD SERIES MVP immediately after winning a championship (completely classless), the Boston Red Sox can afford the possibility that Nomar will let one go through his legs into Left Field—and/or strikeout. The fortunes of the 2010 campaign will not turn on one error or a single at-bat.
Who knows? One might see Mr.Garciaparra make just one more eye-popping play—or see him hit just one more over the Green Monster.
Hell, even Yankee fans might like to see that.
If you’d like my blog in your weekday box, just let me know: tim.moore@citcomm.com
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Happy 21st Birthday John Moore!
I finally became a grownup on this date 21 years ago.
Not that I wasn’t an ADULT before. Technically, I had already passed the milestones of 18, 21, marriage and home ownership (and all of its attended debt).
It’s just that until parenthood turned my little self-absorbed world upside-down, I had no idea what it was really like to be so completely focused on every nanosecond of another human being’s existence. All of that changed irreversibly on a winter day in Bangor, Maine.
John Patrick Moore was born at Eastern Maine Medical Center on March 10, 1989. Weighing in at 10lbs, 9oz, to say that John’s entry into this world was an ordeal for his mother Peggy (no, it was NOT a C-section) is an understatement. A long labor all night long—and me in surgical mask due to some kind of flu bug that forced the staff to try and contain my germs led to an exhausting experience for everyone (especially my wife!)
The swirl of emotions are still a fresh memory after all these years. Anticipation, fear, apprehension, concern, joy, exhilaration and utter exhaustion were but a few of the roller coaster swings that both Peggy and I experienced. Peggy, of course, had the dominant element of PAIN throughout. It’s a good thing that men don’t give birth. We are wusses.
Back in my parent’s day, my father paced in some kind of waiting room, ready for a doctor or nurse to deliver the news, cigars poised for distribution. Not the father of today, who faithfully (if not enthusiastically) attends the Lamaze classes and dutifully fetches the ice chips during labor and delivery. I was that guy.
Amazing doesn’t begin to describe the experience. My eyes bugged out of my head to scan every inch of our new child, our first born. Mentally counting fingers, toes and….hey, it’s a BOY! (that too), I was a complete blob of emotion, crying at the miracle I had just witnessed.
Driving home to Ellsworth later that day, I fell asleep at the wheel of my Mazda not a mile from our home. The car crossed the center line, left the road and crashed into a small stand of trees on the Bayside Road. The police thought that I was drunk—and understandably so. Standing next to what used to be my car, I was not at all upset. Punch drunk from exhaustion and the events of the last 24 hours, all I could say to the responding officer was , “I’m a Daddy!” Unbounded joy from my first born son’s entry into this world was now coupled with gratitude for my not exiting said world on the same day.
Sometime later that day, it began to hit me: Life would never be even remotely the same ever again.
And that was OK.
Diapers, feedings and projectile vomiting was replaced by a succession of life events: crawling, walking, talking, riding a bike, first day at school, Little League, middle school, high school, endless sports, games and family events. Graduation and entrance into college and soon a diploma from RPI become the latest chapters.
Through it all, Peggy and I have been witnesses to an incredible person growing and developing into the outstanding young man that John Moore is today. That we have had the same (but different!) experiences twice more with our daughter and youngest son has made us the luckiest people on earth—and we know it.
Twenty-One is a milestone to be sure. A legal adult in every sense of the word—and yet, he will always be my little buddy—even if he towers over me, which he does. And as hard as it would have been to imagine this day 21 years ago when John was born, I look just as enthusiastically towards the NEXT 21 years, where more adventures—and no doubt some challenges-- await us.
Bring it on!
John, we love you more than we can ever say—and I personally am so proud to be your Dad that I am still bursting at the seams—the same emotion I felt 21 years ago when I first held you in my arms.
Happy birthday, buddy!
If you’d like my blog in your box weekdays, just let me know: tim.moore@citcomm.com
Not that I wasn’t an ADULT before. Technically, I had already passed the milestones of 18, 21, marriage and home ownership (and all of its attended debt).
It’s just that until parenthood turned my little self-absorbed world upside-down, I had no idea what it was really like to be so completely focused on every nanosecond of another human being’s existence. All of that changed irreversibly on a winter day in Bangor, Maine.
John Patrick Moore was born at Eastern Maine Medical Center on March 10, 1989. Weighing in at 10lbs, 9oz, to say that John’s entry into this world was an ordeal for his mother Peggy (no, it was NOT a C-section) is an understatement. A long labor all night long—and me in surgical mask due to some kind of flu bug that forced the staff to try and contain my germs led to an exhausting experience for everyone (especially my wife!)
The swirl of emotions are still a fresh memory after all these years. Anticipation, fear, apprehension, concern, joy, exhilaration and utter exhaustion were but a few of the roller coaster swings that both Peggy and I experienced. Peggy, of course, had the dominant element of PAIN throughout. It’s a good thing that men don’t give birth. We are wusses.
Back in my parent’s day, my father paced in some kind of waiting room, ready for a doctor or nurse to deliver the news, cigars poised for distribution. Not the father of today, who faithfully (if not enthusiastically) attends the Lamaze classes and dutifully fetches the ice chips during labor and delivery. I was that guy.
Amazing doesn’t begin to describe the experience. My eyes bugged out of my head to scan every inch of our new child, our first born. Mentally counting fingers, toes and….hey, it’s a BOY! (that too), I was a complete blob of emotion, crying at the miracle I had just witnessed.
Driving home to Ellsworth later that day, I fell asleep at the wheel of my Mazda not a mile from our home. The car crossed the center line, left the road and crashed into a small stand of trees on the Bayside Road. The police thought that I was drunk—and understandably so. Standing next to what used to be my car, I was not at all upset. Punch drunk from exhaustion and the events of the last 24 hours, all I could say to the responding officer was , “I’m a Daddy!” Unbounded joy from my first born son’s entry into this world was now coupled with gratitude for my not exiting said world on the same day.
Sometime later that day, it began to hit me: Life would never be even remotely the same ever again.
And that was OK.
Diapers, feedings and projectile vomiting was replaced by a succession of life events: crawling, walking, talking, riding a bike, first day at school, Little League, middle school, high school, endless sports, games and family events. Graduation and entrance into college and soon a diploma from RPI become the latest chapters.
Through it all, Peggy and I have been witnesses to an incredible person growing and developing into the outstanding young man that John Moore is today. That we have had the same (but different!) experiences twice more with our daughter and youngest son has made us the luckiest people on earth—and we know it.
Twenty-One is a milestone to be sure. A legal adult in every sense of the word—and yet, he will always be my little buddy—even if he towers over me, which he does. And as hard as it would have been to imagine this day 21 years ago when John was born, I look just as enthusiastically towards the NEXT 21 years, where more adventures—and no doubt some challenges-- await us.
Bring it on!
John, we love you more than we can ever say—and I personally am so proud to be your Dad that I am still bursting at the seams—the same emotion I felt 21 years ago when I first held you in my arms.
Happy birthday, buddy!
If you’d like my blog in your box weekdays, just let me know: tim.moore@citcomm.com
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
George Burns-A Century Of Laughs!
Where do you go after playing the role of God?
Well, in George Burns’ case, perhaps you do a command performance for The Big Guy inside those Pearly Gates. If there is a heaven, we know that George Burns is there—along with Gracie and Jack Benny—making God crack up.
George Burns passed away on this date 14 years ago at the age of 100. He’d been in show business for over 90 of those years!
Born Nathan Birnbaum in New York City, he was the 9th of 12 children. He began singing on street corners for pennies, started a “dance academy” at the age of 13 and generally failed at most of these ventures. That is, until he met fellow performer Gracie Allen.
At first, she played the “straight man”, if you will—with George handling the punch lines—and it didn’t quite work out. However, when they swapped roles, the laughter—and their success—both increased exponentially!
Marriage followed and the pair became well known on the vaudeville circuit. When the dawn of radio exposed them to a national audience, they became a hit with a show of their own. That radio show garnered a weekly audience of 40 MILLION! And NBC paid the pair $10,000 a WEEK, a sum unheard of at the time and especially impressive considering the nation was in the throes of the Great Depression.
From radio, the duo moved to the big screen, playing themselves in a number of films, including “International House”( 1933) and “Many Happy Returns” (1934). In 1950, the new medium of television beckoned—and their show on CBS had huge ratings for the rest of the decade.
Gracie died suddenly in 1964 at the age of 58, sending George into a tailspin. Throughout their career together, George himself was the first to point out that Gracie was the star—and he was merely lucky to be along for the ride.
A highly successful professional partnership with Jack Benny, his best friend, followed-until Benny himself passed away.
Burns’ career could have ended right there—without diminishing his stature in the industry or his contribution. But not content to retire, his career enjoyed a huge resurgence following major heart surgery at the age of 79. From his role as a retired vaudevillian in the film “The Sunshine Boys” alongside Walter Matthau to his multiple appearances as both God and the Devil in the “Oh God!” series of movies, Burns became hugely popular to a whole new generation.
Instead of digging for great video clips, I have chosen instead to post the Larry King Live! episode where Burns was remembered by the likes of his son, Carol Channing, Phyllis Diller and others. King did all the work as this show is full of terrific moments from the career of George Burns….enjoy:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=smRTgBkgK94
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Fb3Itn6n1M
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EKQR8Uw7Dpg
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kkBxN8vUoWI
Burns was the author of nine books and the recipient of several “lifetime achievement” awards in the entertainment industry. Live stage, radio, TV and movies—George Burns did it all—and for more years than most people live.
Not bad for a cigar-chomping grade school dropout from a big family born during the Depression. He may not have been “God”, but no one argues that he wasn’t an entertainment god for decades.
If you’d like my blog in your box weekdays, just let me know: tim.moore@citcomm.com
Well, in George Burns’ case, perhaps you do a command performance for The Big Guy inside those Pearly Gates. If there is a heaven, we know that George Burns is there—along with Gracie and Jack Benny—making God crack up.
George Burns passed away on this date 14 years ago at the age of 100. He’d been in show business for over 90 of those years!
Born Nathan Birnbaum in New York City, he was the 9th of 12 children. He began singing on street corners for pennies, started a “dance academy” at the age of 13 and generally failed at most of these ventures. That is, until he met fellow performer Gracie Allen.
At first, she played the “straight man”, if you will—with George handling the punch lines—and it didn’t quite work out. However, when they swapped roles, the laughter—and their success—both increased exponentially!
Marriage followed and the pair became well known on the vaudeville circuit. When the dawn of radio exposed them to a national audience, they became a hit with a show of their own. That radio show garnered a weekly audience of 40 MILLION! And NBC paid the pair $10,000 a WEEK, a sum unheard of at the time and especially impressive considering the nation was in the throes of the Great Depression.
From radio, the duo moved to the big screen, playing themselves in a number of films, including “International House”( 1933) and “Many Happy Returns” (1934). In 1950, the new medium of television beckoned—and their show on CBS had huge ratings for the rest of the decade.
Gracie died suddenly in 1964 at the age of 58, sending George into a tailspin. Throughout their career together, George himself was the first to point out that Gracie was the star—and he was merely lucky to be along for the ride.
A highly successful professional partnership with Jack Benny, his best friend, followed-until Benny himself passed away.
Burns’ career could have ended right there—without diminishing his stature in the industry or his contribution. But not content to retire, his career enjoyed a huge resurgence following major heart surgery at the age of 79. From his role as a retired vaudevillian in the film “The Sunshine Boys” alongside Walter Matthau to his multiple appearances as both God and the Devil in the “Oh God!” series of movies, Burns became hugely popular to a whole new generation.
Instead of digging for great video clips, I have chosen instead to post the Larry King Live! episode where Burns was remembered by the likes of his son, Carol Channing, Phyllis Diller and others. King did all the work as this show is full of terrific moments from the career of George Burns….enjoy:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=smRTgBkgK94
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Fb3Itn6n1M
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EKQR8Uw7Dpg
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kkBxN8vUoWI
Burns was the author of nine books and the recipient of several “lifetime achievement” awards in the entertainment industry. Live stage, radio, TV and movies—George Burns did it all—and for more years than most people live.
Not bad for a cigar-chomping grade school dropout from a big family born during the Depression. He may not have been “God”, but no one argues that he wasn’t an entertainment god for decades.
If you’d like my blog in your box weekdays, just let me know: tim.moore@citcomm.com
Monday, March 8, 2010
The Hippie Mobile Turns 60!
Perhaps no other vehicle evokes images of the 60’s and 70’s counterculture movement as does the VW Bus, which began production on this date in 1950. This, of course, means it is within 5 years of retirement age—and has been eligible for AARP membership for a decade!
Yeah, this “almost” senior citizen was once the stereotype for the transportation of hippies. The VW nameplate was often modified to become a peace sign, the paint job became either a homemade canvas featuring large petal flowers or perhaps a total psychedelic makeover inspired by banned substances that were arguably as much the fuel for this machine as the gasoline itself.
Known officially as the Volkswagen Type 2 (the Beetle was the Type 1), the microbus was reportedly the brainchild of Dutch businessman Ben Pon, who was an importer of Beetles to the Netherlands and the man who foresaw a market for a small bus. In 1947, he sketched out his idea of a boxy utilitarian vehicle with a rear-mounted engine.
An economical solution for transporting young people to anti-war rallies and rock concerts like Woodstock, this rather un-sexy vehicle became an icon for the young generation. This fact was not lost on Volkswagen, which featured an ad with the front of the bus shedding a tear upon the death of Grateful Dead guitarist Jerry Garcia in 1995.
Check out the two TV ads for earlier versions of the VW bus:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fcwIWxASw-E
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oq1gollgvm8
Reliable if not attractive, the VW bus became a symbol of a political and social movement not envisioned by its creator. Indeed, it was the VW bus’ customer base that supplanted whatever corporate-crafted image was portrayed in commercials with an image that better represented the reality of its use.
Visions of pot smoke billowing out of the VW bus whenever the doors opened and long-haired, love-bead laden hippies in bellbottom jeans and tie-dye T-shirts stumbled out somehow overtook whatever images the marketing team at VW cooked up.
“Hey dude….groovy bus…man.”
I have a sudden craving for Doritos.
If you’d like my blog in your weekday box, just let me know: tim.moore@citcomm.com
Yeah, this “almost” senior citizen was once the stereotype for the transportation of hippies. The VW nameplate was often modified to become a peace sign, the paint job became either a homemade canvas featuring large petal flowers or perhaps a total psychedelic makeover inspired by banned substances that were arguably as much the fuel for this machine as the gasoline itself.
Known officially as the Volkswagen Type 2 (the Beetle was the Type 1), the microbus was reportedly the brainchild of Dutch businessman Ben Pon, who was an importer of Beetles to the Netherlands and the man who foresaw a market for a small bus. In 1947, he sketched out his idea of a boxy utilitarian vehicle with a rear-mounted engine.
An economical solution for transporting young people to anti-war rallies and rock concerts like Woodstock, this rather un-sexy vehicle became an icon for the young generation. This fact was not lost on Volkswagen, which featured an ad with the front of the bus shedding a tear upon the death of Grateful Dead guitarist Jerry Garcia in 1995.
Check out the two TV ads for earlier versions of the VW bus:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fcwIWxASw-E
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oq1gollgvm8
Reliable if not attractive, the VW bus became a symbol of a political and social movement not envisioned by its creator. Indeed, it was the VW bus’ customer base that supplanted whatever corporate-crafted image was portrayed in commercials with an image that better represented the reality of its use.
Visions of pot smoke billowing out of the VW bus whenever the doors opened and long-haired, love-bead laden hippies in bellbottom jeans and tie-dye T-shirts stumbled out somehow overtook whatever images the marketing team at VW cooked up.
“Hey dude….groovy bus…man.”
I have a sudden craving for Doritos.
If you’d like my blog in your weekday box, just let me know: tim.moore@citcomm.com
Friday, March 5, 2010
I Want To Invent Something Useless
This is what TV calls an “encore presentation”—as I wrote this blog originally
a year ago today. I did swap out a different video for your entertainment, however.
It was on this date in 1963 that the Hula Hoop was invented. I say “invented”, but really, how much thought went into a PLASTIC CIRCLE? The genius-if you can call it that—is in accurately forecasting that kids to adults would make fools of themselves by rotating their hips at a pace not designed by God in the HUMAN OWNERS MANUAL.
Big-time cashing in on this product was the result—and Mr. Hula Hoop laughed as he shook his hips all the way to the bank—probably somewhere in the Bahamas. Below is one of the original old TV commercials for the Hula Hoop-the NEW AND IMPROVED model with sand or beads or something inside that makes noise:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9U_nz1lgwvY
Of course, there are other useless inventions that have reaped their inventors rewards beyond reason or common sense. The Mood Ring and The Pet Rock come to mind. Useless? YES, yet extremely profitable for the guru responsible for bringing it to market.
I will be hard at work over the next several months trying to devise a cheap piece of crap that I can start a worldwide fad with. You will fall in love with my worthless piece of junk and you will buy it. If I am lucky, like the inventor of the Hula Hoop, you will not only APPEAR to be a fool by purchasing said crap in the first place, but also you will use it in front of OTHER people to:
a) convince them that my invention has enhanced your life and
b) CONFIRM that you are an imbecile by mere demonstration of my product (yet to be conceived, but certain to be embarrassing to all users)
If you have a good idea, we can work together! Want my daily blog in your inbox? (free-damn!) Let me know! Tim.moore@citcomm.com
a year ago today. I did swap out a different video for your entertainment, however.
It was on this date in 1963 that the Hula Hoop was invented. I say “invented”, but really, how much thought went into a PLASTIC CIRCLE? The genius-if you can call it that—is in accurately forecasting that kids to adults would make fools of themselves by rotating their hips at a pace not designed by God in the HUMAN OWNERS MANUAL.
Big-time cashing in on this product was the result—and Mr. Hula Hoop laughed as he shook his hips all the way to the bank—probably somewhere in the Bahamas. Below is one of the original old TV commercials for the Hula Hoop-the NEW AND IMPROVED model with sand or beads or something inside that makes noise:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9U_nz1lgwvY
Of course, there are other useless inventions that have reaped their inventors rewards beyond reason or common sense. The Mood Ring and The Pet Rock come to mind. Useless? YES, yet extremely profitable for the guru responsible for bringing it to market.
I will be hard at work over the next several months trying to devise a cheap piece of crap that I can start a worldwide fad with. You will fall in love with my worthless piece of junk and you will buy it. If I am lucky, like the inventor of the Hula Hoop, you will not only APPEAR to be a fool by purchasing said crap in the first place, but also you will use it in front of OTHER people to:
a) convince them that my invention has enhanced your life and
b) CONFIRM that you are an imbecile by mere demonstration of my product (yet to be conceived, but certain to be embarrassing to all users)
If you have a good idea, we can work together! Want my daily blog in your inbox? (free-damn!) Let me know! Tim.moore@citcomm.com
Thursday, March 4, 2010
John Candy
Hard to believe that it’s been 15 years since we lost actor and comedian John Candy, who died on this date in 1995 after suffering a heart attack.
Candy, who was only 43 at the time of his death—had already impacted American pop culture with his parade of hit movies. Even the ones that didn’t get…shall we say…”critical acclaim”? Well, they were still funny whenever he was on screen.
Canadian born, Candy was accepted into the prestigious Second City Comedy troupe in Toronto in 1972. He would later become a regular writer and performer on the show SCTV. When the show moved to network TV in 1981, Candy moved too—and won Emmy Awards for writing the show.
His most famous and recurring role was that of “Yosh Schmenge”, a clarinet player in a polka band.
Candy had his first break in movies with “Splash” in 1984, playing alongside a young actor named Tom Hanks. The film, directed by Ron Howard was a huge hit, launching the careers of Candy, Hanks, and Darryl Hannah.
Weighing in at up to 275 pounds and standing six foot-three, Candy would struggle with weight problems regularly, but, like Chris Farley and even John Belushi, the excess weight undoubtedly contributed to his comedic impact, where his clumsy physical antics would send audiences howling.
After “Splash”, the next ten years would see Candy starring in such box office hits as “Spaceballs”,”The Great Outdoors” and “Uncle Buck”. For me, his funniest—and most poignant performance was alongside Steve Martin in “Trains, Planes and Automobiles”
If you can watch this and NOT laugh, then you have no funny bone whatsoever and need to see a doctor:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s7v0eth4XAM
At the time of his death, Candy had just completed his directorial debut and was two thirds through filming “Wagons East”. It was on location for this movie in Durango, Mexico where Candy was stricken.
While Chris Farley (whom we also lost way too soon) became the “successor” if you will to the lovable overweight character roles in these movies, there will never be another John Candy. No pun intended, but the world truly lost a comedic heavyweight when John left us.
The good news is that he is no doubt upstairs—not playing the harp—but probably the clarinet—and keeping the angels in stitches.
If you’d like my blog in your box weekdays, just drop me a line: tim.moore@citcomm.com
Candy, who was only 43 at the time of his death—had already impacted American pop culture with his parade of hit movies. Even the ones that didn’t get…shall we say…”critical acclaim”? Well, they were still funny whenever he was on screen.
Canadian born, Candy was accepted into the prestigious Second City Comedy troupe in Toronto in 1972. He would later become a regular writer and performer on the show SCTV. When the show moved to network TV in 1981, Candy moved too—and won Emmy Awards for writing the show.
His most famous and recurring role was that of “Yosh Schmenge”, a clarinet player in a polka band.
Candy had his first break in movies with “Splash” in 1984, playing alongside a young actor named Tom Hanks. The film, directed by Ron Howard was a huge hit, launching the careers of Candy, Hanks, and Darryl Hannah.
Weighing in at up to 275 pounds and standing six foot-three, Candy would struggle with weight problems regularly, but, like Chris Farley and even John Belushi, the excess weight undoubtedly contributed to his comedic impact, where his clumsy physical antics would send audiences howling.
After “Splash”, the next ten years would see Candy starring in such box office hits as “Spaceballs”,”The Great Outdoors” and “Uncle Buck”. For me, his funniest—and most poignant performance was alongside Steve Martin in “Trains, Planes and Automobiles”
If you can watch this and NOT laugh, then you have no funny bone whatsoever and need to see a doctor:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s7v0eth4XAM
At the time of his death, Candy had just completed his directorial debut and was two thirds through filming “Wagons East”. It was on location for this movie in Durango, Mexico where Candy was stricken.
While Chris Farley (whom we also lost way too soon) became the “successor” if you will to the lovable overweight character roles in these movies, there will never be another John Candy. No pun intended, but the world truly lost a comedic heavyweight when John left us.
The good news is that he is no doubt upstairs—not playing the harp—but probably the clarinet—and keeping the angels in stitches.
If you’d like my blog in your box weekdays, just drop me a line: tim.moore@citcomm.com
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Out Of Sorts About Mail
The computer age with e-mail, the internet for shopping and our desire to save trees should all be converging to create a HUGE reduction in the amount of paper and cardboard that goes through the U.S. Postal System.
But alas, that’s not the case.
I don’t know about you, but if anything, I’m getting MORE junk mail, not less of late.
With recent news that the Postal System is projected to lose billions going into the future, it’s enough to make you go….postal (sorry)
Really, though, do we need to have 47 credit cards? Judging by the number of credit card offers our household receives each week, if we responded to half of them (since we’re “already approved!”), I’d need to carry my plastic-laden wallet around in a wheelbarrow.
In was on this date in 1873 that Congress passed the so-called “Comstock Law”, making it illegal to send obscene materials through the mail.
Really. Has the postal inspector checked out a Victoria’s Secret catalogue lately?
About those catalogues. I love L.L. Bean, but we receive a pair of identical catalogues each time they mail out. Thinking about the expense, the cost of mailing that kind of bulk material—as high as it must be—it still must be dwarfed by the cost of photographing each model wearing each sweater and blouse, assembling the items, writing the text and coding for mail-in orders, not to mention the cost of printing the high gloss stock that is then assembled, stapled, addressed and sorted for mailing. The poor carrier trudges through the snow to deliver these gems to our mailboxes---where we promptly flip through he pages (if that!) before tossing into the recycling bin. Hey, that’s somebody’s career you’re dismissing by being so cavalier with the catalogue!
At some level it must work, since sales in Freeport do draw a crowd—and the telephone operators are plenty busy answering the phone. It may only represent 2% of the flyers that shipped, but it still somehow generates enough to repeat the whole process over again NEXT month.
The envelopes stuffed with a zillion coupons from area businesses are another matter. I open one of these high quality pieces and prepare to catch the blizzard of offers before they spray like confetti on the kitchen floor.
“Get 10% off your next sofa reupholstering!”
Be still my heart. I’m not sure my ticker can handle such excitement—or such savings! Five different pizza parlors will be inside, a plumber or two—and the obligatory roofer or siding installer. God bless’em. Here’s hoping they get even ONE response for the dollars they are shelling out to “Advertise” in this manner.
Offers from car dealers, clothing stores, sporting goods and real estate agents, who somehow have to always devote the majority of column inch ad space to their own FACE. Is it a job requirement that to be a real estate agent you have to have an ego the size of Mt. Rushmore?
There is a way to stop—or at least cut down on the amount of junk mail that arrives at your house—watch this short video:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W0Cf5Fej4sw
My suggestion to all of you print advertisers is to divert that budget—however meager—to radio advertising for just a month or two. Granted, I’m not impartial as this is what pays my bills, but after over 30 years in the business, I see the smart business people getting the most “bang for their buck” from radio. They come back again and again—and when an ad schedule that includes a) a decent offer (which will NEVER be “get 10% off!), b) a compelling or creative way to convey that message (the copy) with c) a schedule with enough frequency to be exposed to the target audience at least 3-5 times, the radio advertiser will see results that will pay for the schedule---and then some.
So, why don’t we all just save a tree or two?
You’ll feel better—and maybe the Postal System will someday break even.
If you’d like my blog in your box daily, just let me know: tim.moore@citcomm.com
But alas, that’s not the case.
I don’t know about you, but if anything, I’m getting MORE junk mail, not less of late.
With recent news that the Postal System is projected to lose billions going into the future, it’s enough to make you go….postal (sorry)
Really, though, do we need to have 47 credit cards? Judging by the number of credit card offers our household receives each week, if we responded to half of them (since we’re “already approved!”), I’d need to carry my plastic-laden wallet around in a wheelbarrow.
In was on this date in 1873 that Congress passed the so-called “Comstock Law”, making it illegal to send obscene materials through the mail.
Really. Has the postal inspector checked out a Victoria’s Secret catalogue lately?
About those catalogues. I love L.L. Bean, but we receive a pair of identical catalogues each time they mail out. Thinking about the expense, the cost of mailing that kind of bulk material—as high as it must be—it still must be dwarfed by the cost of photographing each model wearing each sweater and blouse, assembling the items, writing the text and coding for mail-in orders, not to mention the cost of printing the high gloss stock that is then assembled, stapled, addressed and sorted for mailing. The poor carrier trudges through the snow to deliver these gems to our mailboxes---where we promptly flip through he pages (if that!) before tossing into the recycling bin. Hey, that’s somebody’s career you’re dismissing by being so cavalier with the catalogue!
At some level it must work, since sales in Freeport do draw a crowd—and the telephone operators are plenty busy answering the phone. It may only represent 2% of the flyers that shipped, but it still somehow generates enough to repeat the whole process over again NEXT month.
The envelopes stuffed with a zillion coupons from area businesses are another matter. I open one of these high quality pieces and prepare to catch the blizzard of offers before they spray like confetti on the kitchen floor.
“Get 10% off your next sofa reupholstering!”
Be still my heart. I’m not sure my ticker can handle such excitement—or such savings! Five different pizza parlors will be inside, a plumber or two—and the obligatory roofer or siding installer. God bless’em. Here’s hoping they get even ONE response for the dollars they are shelling out to “Advertise” in this manner.
Offers from car dealers, clothing stores, sporting goods and real estate agents, who somehow have to always devote the majority of column inch ad space to their own FACE. Is it a job requirement that to be a real estate agent you have to have an ego the size of Mt. Rushmore?
There is a way to stop—or at least cut down on the amount of junk mail that arrives at your house—watch this short video:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W0Cf5Fej4sw
My suggestion to all of you print advertisers is to divert that budget—however meager—to radio advertising for just a month or two. Granted, I’m not impartial as this is what pays my bills, but after over 30 years in the business, I see the smart business people getting the most “bang for their buck” from radio. They come back again and again—and when an ad schedule that includes a) a decent offer (which will NEVER be “get 10% off!), b) a compelling or creative way to convey that message (the copy) with c) a schedule with enough frequency to be exposed to the target audience at least 3-5 times, the radio advertiser will see results that will pay for the schedule---and then some.
So, why don’t we all just save a tree or two?
You’ll feel better—and maybe the Postal System will someday break even.
If you’d like my blog in your box daily, just let me know: tim.moore@citcomm.com
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
A Million Mustangs!
I’d have to wait until next month for the official “birthday” of the Ford Mustang—it was in April of 1964 that the sporty but affordable convertible seized the attention of the auto marketplace.
Today is an anniversary of sorts, though—it was on this date in 1966 that the ONE MILLIONTH Mustang rolled off the assembly line!
What was originally conceived as the “working man’s Thunderbird”, the first Mustangs sold for about $2,300! The first 22,000 models were snapped up on virtually the first day. This was essentially Lee Iacocca’s car—as the-then general manager of Ford was involved in the design, production and marketing of the Mustang.
Growing up in the 60’s and 70’s, every boy wanted either a Mustang or a Chevy Camaro. I loved both cars, but that little horsey in the grille of the Mustang was the clincher. Bucket seats, a floor-mounted stick shift and sleek styling said it all. This was a chick magnet, not that any of us had a chance with anyone older than fifteen.
If you bought a new Mustang back then, it could today be worth more than ten times the original purchase price—if in good shape! Now, THAT’S an investment more solid than any 401K.
Below are a couple of TV commercials for the Mustang. The first is the “preview” spot for that very first model year—and then a 1967 TV ad:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MBot2MAewpY
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qQRYBhuBwb8
More than 400,000 Mustangs were sold in the first model year-and within 3 years of its introduction, about 500 Mustang Fan Clubs had sprung up. The Mustang appeared on the silver screen in its debut year in the James Bond film “Goldfinger”, the first of virtually hundreds of movies to feature this particular Ford.
Design changes through the 70’s made the Mustang less attractive-until the awful Mustang II’s, a mere shell of the former greatness that defined Mustang. Then came the Mustang GT-also awful. Ford finally came to its senses in 2004—with a completely redesigned model that approximated the terrific original design that turned heads in 1964.
So, here it is, 2010—and I STILL don’t have a Mustang…maybe when the kids get out of college and I am fully into my midlife crisis, I’ll try to recapture my lost youth by tooling down the road with the top down, radio blaring.
I won’t be “cruisin’ for babes” (a) they wouldn’t have me and (b) I don’t have a death wish.
I’ll be driving around, no doubt looking cool as my Mustang and I pick up my prescription at the CVS Drive-Thru Pharmacy.
Not exactly what I had in mind back in the 60’s, but better late than never.
If you’d like my blog in your weekday inbox, just let me know! Tim.moore@citcomm.com
Today is an anniversary of sorts, though—it was on this date in 1966 that the ONE MILLIONTH Mustang rolled off the assembly line!
What was originally conceived as the “working man’s Thunderbird”, the first Mustangs sold for about $2,300! The first 22,000 models were snapped up on virtually the first day. This was essentially Lee Iacocca’s car—as the-then general manager of Ford was involved in the design, production and marketing of the Mustang.
Growing up in the 60’s and 70’s, every boy wanted either a Mustang or a Chevy Camaro. I loved both cars, but that little horsey in the grille of the Mustang was the clincher. Bucket seats, a floor-mounted stick shift and sleek styling said it all. This was a chick magnet, not that any of us had a chance with anyone older than fifteen.
If you bought a new Mustang back then, it could today be worth more than ten times the original purchase price—if in good shape! Now, THAT’S an investment more solid than any 401K.
Below are a couple of TV commercials for the Mustang. The first is the “preview” spot for that very first model year—and then a 1967 TV ad:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MBot2MAewpY
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qQRYBhuBwb8
More than 400,000 Mustangs were sold in the first model year-and within 3 years of its introduction, about 500 Mustang Fan Clubs had sprung up. The Mustang appeared on the silver screen in its debut year in the James Bond film “Goldfinger”, the first of virtually hundreds of movies to feature this particular Ford.
Design changes through the 70’s made the Mustang less attractive-until the awful Mustang II’s, a mere shell of the former greatness that defined Mustang. Then came the Mustang GT-also awful. Ford finally came to its senses in 2004—with a completely redesigned model that approximated the terrific original design that turned heads in 1964.
So, here it is, 2010—and I STILL don’t have a Mustang…maybe when the kids get out of college and I am fully into my midlife crisis, I’ll try to recapture my lost youth by tooling down the road with the top down, radio blaring.
I won’t be “cruisin’ for babes” (a) they wouldn’t have me and (b) I don’t have a death wish.
I’ll be driving around, no doubt looking cool as my Mustang and I pick up my prescription at the CVS Drive-Thru Pharmacy.
Not exactly what I had in mind back in the 60’s, but better late than never.
If you’d like my blog in your weekday inbox, just let me know! Tim.moore@citcomm.com
Monday, March 1, 2010
Lindbergh Baby Kidnapping Still Mysterious
It was on this date—March 1, 1932—that the infant son of aviator Charles Lindbergh was taken from his crib, triggering one of the largest manhunts in history.
Called the “crime of the century”, the nation was completely gripped by the emotional ordeal of someone who was arguably the most famous person on the planet at the time.
I am reading A. Scott Berg’s Pulitzer Prize winning biography, “Lindbergh” right now—and, coincidentally, started the part about the kidnapping last night, unaware that today was the 78th anniversary of the crime.
While one cannot discount the remarkable feat that Lindbergh accomplished with his solo flight from New York to Paris in 1927, it can be said that the fame, adulation and financial windfalls that accrued from that one 36 hour flight were completely out of proportion with the magnitude of the event itself.
Mass media was in its infancy—and Charles Lindbergh became the first true worldwide superstar. The newspaper headlines were a given, but the new medium of radio and sound coupled with film in the form of newsreels catapulted Lindbergh to a level of fame and intrusion of his privacy that had never occurred before.
As such, Lindbergh and his family were prime targets for kidnapping, especially as the Great Depression created economic hardship for millions of Americans.
The Lindbergh baby kidnap case didn’t have a happy ending. Although $50,000 in ransom was paid, the baby was never returned. A corpse was found about a month after the ransom drop—not far from the Lindbergh’s New Jersey home.
For a long time, it appeared the crime would not be solved…..until a marked bill from the ransom money turned up more than two years after the crime. Spent at a gas station, the operator wrote down the license plate of the driver, thinking he looked suspicious. The car belonged to a Bruno Hauptman, a German immigrant. When his home was searched, about $15,000 of the ransom money was found.
Needless to say, the conviction and execution of Hauptman was a fairly straightforward matter. However, there are those who believe the German was innocent. Here is an interesting show from the Leonard Nimoy’s “In Search Of…” series about the crime—and the allegations that Hauptman was framed:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dbeLVi3IuRI
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cW_WpKoqxts
Although the program was interesting, I am still not convinced. Even if Hauptman was not personally involved in the abduction and/or murder of the child, it’s difficult to believe that he was an innocent bystander. Holding 15 grand of the tainted money with no plausible explanation is damning evidence to me.
Either way, it’s a fascinating story—and I highly recommend “Lindbergh” by A. Scott Berg. With exclusive access to the Lindbergh family papers, it is the definitive biography of one of America’s most complex personalities.
If you’d like my blog in your daily inbox, just let me know: tim.moore@citcomm.com
Called the “crime of the century”, the nation was completely gripped by the emotional ordeal of someone who was arguably the most famous person on the planet at the time.
I am reading A. Scott Berg’s Pulitzer Prize winning biography, “Lindbergh” right now—and, coincidentally, started the part about the kidnapping last night, unaware that today was the 78th anniversary of the crime.
While one cannot discount the remarkable feat that Lindbergh accomplished with his solo flight from New York to Paris in 1927, it can be said that the fame, adulation and financial windfalls that accrued from that one 36 hour flight were completely out of proportion with the magnitude of the event itself.
Mass media was in its infancy—and Charles Lindbergh became the first true worldwide superstar. The newspaper headlines were a given, but the new medium of radio and sound coupled with film in the form of newsreels catapulted Lindbergh to a level of fame and intrusion of his privacy that had never occurred before.
As such, Lindbergh and his family were prime targets for kidnapping, especially as the Great Depression created economic hardship for millions of Americans.
The Lindbergh baby kidnap case didn’t have a happy ending. Although $50,000 in ransom was paid, the baby was never returned. A corpse was found about a month after the ransom drop—not far from the Lindbergh’s New Jersey home.
For a long time, it appeared the crime would not be solved…..until a marked bill from the ransom money turned up more than two years after the crime. Spent at a gas station, the operator wrote down the license plate of the driver, thinking he looked suspicious. The car belonged to a Bruno Hauptman, a German immigrant. When his home was searched, about $15,000 of the ransom money was found.
Needless to say, the conviction and execution of Hauptman was a fairly straightforward matter. However, there are those who believe the German was innocent. Here is an interesting show from the Leonard Nimoy’s “In Search Of…” series about the crime—and the allegations that Hauptman was framed:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dbeLVi3IuRI
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cW_WpKoqxts
Although the program was interesting, I am still not convinced. Even if Hauptman was not personally involved in the abduction and/or murder of the child, it’s difficult to believe that he was an innocent bystander. Holding 15 grand of the tainted money with no plausible explanation is damning evidence to me.
Either way, it’s a fascinating story—and I highly recommend “Lindbergh” by A. Scott Berg. With exclusive access to the Lindbergh family papers, it is the definitive biography of one of America’s most complex personalities.
If you’d like my blog in your daily inbox, just let me know: tim.moore@citcomm.com
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