"Well, beat the drum, and hold the phone, the sun came out today.
We're born again and there's new grass on the field......."
- John Fogerty
As I walked outside this morning, there was finally an distinct feeling of springtime. The chirping birds and bright sunlight seemed to instantly wash away any recent memories of a snowy winter. The ground dried from a weekend of rain, giving a slight hint of the green grass below. I guess it's fitting that today happens to be Opening Day for Major League Baseball.
For me, Opening Day always brings back fond memories. As a kid, I couldn't wait to get home from school to catch the game. In those days, the games weren't always televised, so we often had to depend on our small transistor radios to bring us the play-by-play. Legendary announcer Chuck Thompson delivered the game in way that made you feel like you were sitting right behind the O's dugout at Memorial Stadium. I had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Thompson at a bull roast many years ago. He was genuinely nice and made me feel like I was talking to an old friend.
Walking down the street with a radio up to my ear, the excitement of the game would sometimes be too much to keep to myself. So, I would occasionally update a total stranger on the game details. I just felt that they would want to know....
"Boog just knocked one out of the park. The birds are up 3 nothing", I informed an elderly man as he swept off his front stoop.
"Great news, son. Thanks!", he would reply.
I would bop on down the street until someone would inevitably stop me and ask, "What's the score?"
"Three nothing, Birds. But the Yanks have two on and nobody out. Hopefully, Brooks can turn a DP and get 'em out of it." I would answer. This would bring a nod of acknowledgement from my new friend as I continued on my way.
There was no doubt that the Orioles brought the community together. We all shared in the joy of a Jim Palmer shutout or an Eddie Murray clutch homer. There was a certain camaraderie that existed between the players and fans. The promotion campaign centered around "Oriole's Magic". And that's exactly what is was....
The O's will kick things off at Camden Yard later this afternoon. It's really enlightening to have a team with such personality and talent. It definitely brings back memories of the good ol' days. The bats will surely be there. But if the pitching comes through, there's no telling how far this team can go. Looking forward to another exciting year!
Play ball!
kw
Monday, March 31, 2014
Saturday, March 29, 2014
Celebrity Look-alikes
Almost everyone has a celebrity look-alike. At some point of your life, someone has likely come up to you and asked, "Has anyone ever told you that you look a lot like _____?" Having long hair as a teenager, I was told that I looked like guitarist, Pat Travers. A few friends also said that I resembled punk rocker, Johnny Ramone. Aside from similar haircuts, I never quite got that one. In more recent years, I've heard that I resemble Mark Furman, the infamous LAPD detective from the O.J. Simpson trial. And my dear ol' Aunt Agnes used to say that I resembled Jim Palmer. Since that seems to be the most flattering, I think I'll stick with it...
Of course, every guy wants to hear that he resembles Brad Pitt while women probably like to hear that they look like Scarlett Johansson. But for most of us, that's not usually the case.
Sometimes, the celebrity resemblances take a strange direction. For instance, I know one woman who looks like Dog The Bounty Hunter's wife. But I know another woman who looks like Dog himself. How would it sound if someone walked up to her and said, "Hey, has anyone ever told you that you look like Dog The Bounty Hunter?" This would be like asking, "Have you gained weight?"
Years ago, my sister had a group of friends that included a guy who resembled Gilligan from Gilligan's Island. In fact, whenever anyone referred to him, they called him Gilligan. So, one night, a bunch of us are out at a bar. As I prepare to order the next round of drinks, I look over to "Gilligan" and ask, "Hey Gilligan, what are you drinking?"
My sister hears this and gives me the "WTF" look. Meanwhile, Gilligan stares at me but doesn't answer my question. Assuming that he didn't hear me, I say, "Come on, Gilligan. You're holding up the line. What do you want to drink?" For some reason, my follow-up question brings subtle laughter from the rest of the group.
Meanwhile, my sister's WTF look instantly changes into a "If I had a knife, I'd stab you in the eye" look. And this causes me to give her the WTF look. I was really confused. So, I walk over to her and ask, "What's going on? Am I missing something here?"
She says, "Why do you have to be such a dick?"
Very confused, I ask, "What the hell are you talking about? I'm a dick for buying a round of beers?"
She gives me a nasty look and says, "Why do you keep calling Larry Gilligan?"
"Who the hell is Larry?", I respond, feeling like I'm in an episode of The Twilight Zone.
"He's is the guy that everyone calls Gilligan. But he doesn't like it, so no one says it to his face." she informs me. Like I'm supposed to know this? She was acting like I called the guy Hitler. But from then on, just to keep the peace, I never called him Gilligan. At least not to his face...
So, if you ever see someone who looks like someone famous, you might want to think twice before you tell 'em about it....
kw
Of course, every guy wants to hear that he resembles Brad Pitt while women probably like to hear that they look like Scarlett Johansson. But for most of us, that's not usually the case.
Sometimes, the celebrity resemblances take a strange direction. For instance, I know one woman who looks like Dog The Bounty Hunter's wife. But I know another woman who looks like Dog himself. How would it sound if someone walked up to her and said, "Hey, has anyone ever told you that you look like Dog The Bounty Hunter?" This would be like asking, "Have you gained weight?"
Years ago, my sister had a group of friends that included a guy who resembled Gilligan from Gilligan's Island. In fact, whenever anyone referred to him, they called him Gilligan. So, one night, a bunch of us are out at a bar. As I prepare to order the next round of drinks, I look over to "Gilligan" and ask, "Hey Gilligan, what are you drinking?"
My sister hears this and gives me the "WTF" look. Meanwhile, Gilligan stares at me but doesn't answer my question. Assuming that he didn't hear me, I say, "Come on, Gilligan. You're holding up the line. What do you want to drink?" For some reason, my follow-up question brings subtle laughter from the rest of the group.
Meanwhile, my sister's WTF look instantly changes into a "If I had a knife, I'd stab you in the eye" look. And this causes me to give her the WTF look. I was really confused. So, I walk over to her and ask, "What's going on? Am I missing something here?"
She says, "Why do you have to be such a dick?"
Very confused, I ask, "What the hell are you talking about? I'm a dick for buying a round of beers?"
She gives me a nasty look and says, "Why do you keep calling Larry Gilligan?"
"Who the hell is Larry?", I respond, feeling like I'm in an episode of The Twilight Zone.
"He's is the guy that everyone calls Gilligan. But he doesn't like it, so no one says it to his face." she informs me. Like I'm supposed to know this? She was acting like I called the guy Hitler. But from then on, just to keep the peace, I never called him Gilligan. At least not to his face...
So, if you ever see someone who looks like someone famous, you might want to think twice before you tell 'em about it....
kw
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
REAL ID - Coming To a DMV Near You
So, I stopped by my local DMV today. The first thing that I noticed was that the parking lot was jam packed. I made my way toward the few vacant spots on the very end. I had to slam on the brakes to avoid being hit by an impatient motorist who was backing out of his spot. The thought of being involved in an accident at the DMV is hard to absorb.
So, after I park my car, I make my way to the main building. The activity seems to be bustling as I pass several people having incoherent conversations along the way. I approach the building and see a long line of people snaking out of the door and down the side of the building. It seems rather odd seeing all of these people huddled outside considering that the windchill was in the 20-degree range. And although there is a lot of talking going on, I can't understand a single word because everyone seemed to be speaking Spanish. I'm not judging, I'm just stating a fact.
A short while later, one of my colleagues informs me that the long lines are a direct result of the recently implemented REAL-ID Act. This federally mandated law basically requires national standards on state driver's licenses. The act, which was rushed through Congress and bundled up in a 2005 spending bill, was signed into law by President George W. Bush.
Many states oppose REAL-ID on grounds that it violates state's rights. Up until now, state's determined their own requirements for driver's license. But with REAL-ID, the following national standards will be required to obtain a new license:
So, after I park my car, I make my way to the main building. The activity seems to be bustling as I pass several people having incoherent conversations along the way. I approach the building and see a long line of people snaking out of the door and down the side of the building. It seems rather odd seeing all of these people huddled outside considering that the windchill was in the 20-degree range. And although there is a lot of talking going on, I can't understand a single word because everyone seemed to be speaking Spanish. I'm not judging, I'm just stating a fact.
A short while later, one of my colleagues informs me that the long lines are a direct result of the recently implemented REAL-ID Act. This federally mandated law basically requires national standards on state driver's licenses. The act, which was rushed through Congress and bundled up in a 2005 spending bill, was signed into law by President George W. Bush.
Many states oppose REAL-ID on grounds that it violates state's rights. Up until now, state's determined their own requirements for driver's license. But with REAL-ID, the following national standards will be required to obtain a new license:
- A photo ID (or non-photo ID) that includes full legal name and birthdate
- Documentation of birth date
- Documentation of legal status
- Social Security number
- Documentation showing name and principal residence address
Once the driver's license is issued, it must contain the following pieces of personal data:
- Full legal name
- Signature
- Date of birth
- Gender
- Unique ID number
- Principal residence address
- Front facing photo of the license holder
When I first looked at the requirements, I thought, "What's the big deal?" After all, don't we have to provide this type of info anytime we have any kind of legal transaction or contractual agreement? But yes, there are many people who have a big problem with it. And it may not be the people you would expect.
For instance, since President Bush signed this into law, you would expect conservatives to line up in support of it. But not necessarily the case. People from all different backgrounds. religions and persuasions have voiced opposition. And there's also concern about the "Big Brother" scenario in which the government is overreaching it's legal limits. Some see a "national ID card" as nothing more than the government's ultimate control mechanism.
The REAL ID data will also be also be part of a database that will be linked/shared by all 50 states.
Additionally, since the DMV will now be required to copy birth certificates and other personal documents, the potential for ID theft can't be ignored. If someone steals your driver's license, will they now have access to all of your other personal info?
The cost of the whole project has been estimated at almost $10 billion, of which, the federal government will fund almost nothing. This leaves the state governments and individuals picking up the tab. This will inevitably result in increased fees for services and, as I witnessed today, much longer lines at the DMV.
Welcome to the post-9/11 world......
kw
Saturday, March 22, 2014
March Madness - Taking It All In
Of all the annual sporting events, I don't think anything can top March Madness (aka the NCAA College Basketball Tournament). The excitement, especially in the first two rounds of the tournament, in virtually non-stop. With the "one and done" format, every team usually plays with heart and tenacity. Many of the players realize that they may very well being playing their final college game.
Although it's seems logical that the higher seeded teams would advance into the late rounds, this isn't always the case. Yesterday, in a huge upset, the number 3 seeded Duke Blue Devils were beaten the number 14 seeded Mercer Bears. That's not supposed to happen. The Duke bench looked stunned as Coach K assumed his predictable "Did someone just break wind?" look. In the Duke coach's defense, he stopped by Mercer's locker room after the game to congratulate them. A very classy move.
Last year, number 15 seeded Florida Gulf Coast made it to the Sweet Sixteen. They play in the Atlantic Sun Conference, the same conference as Mercer. Could Mercer carry the Cinderella torch a little further than their conference rivals did last year? You just never know how two teams will match up against one another.
As I watch the various games, I can't help but notice certain things. For instance, I saw one player go barreling across the baseline and over a bunch of kneeling cheerleaders. As he heads back to the court, he just steps over top of them without as much as an "Excuse me, ladies". That's just plain ass rude! And did anyone catch Baylor's uniforms yesterday? Their neon green jersey were so bright that I'll bet even Stevie Wonder was saying, "Damn, boys! Can you please dim those things??" Baylor's opponents, the Nebraska Cornhuskers, should have demanded sunglasses and eye-black before taking the court.
And what's up with the Saint Louis mascot? They call it a Billiken. But it sure looks like The Grinch to me.
Have you ever listened to some of these post-game interviews? They're the silliest things ever. Yesterday, a reporter was interviewing a player from one of the winning teams. She says, "Great game today, Brandon. Can you elaborate on your aggressive play?"
Brandon, who seems to be looking towards the top row of the arena, answers, "Um yeah, I came out and played aggressive. That was my main plan."
"Very well stated", responds the reporter."Can you explain how you prepared for your opponents quickness?"
"Yeah, we knew they were quick. We were totally prepared for it", Brandon answers back with unwavering certainty. He notices a familiar face in the crowd and points to the person.
"Ok, thanks so much for your insight, Brandon. Congratulations." says the reporter as she ends the so-called interview.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I have no idea who will win the tournament this year. All I know is that it's fun to watch!
kw
Although it's seems logical that the higher seeded teams would advance into the late rounds, this isn't always the case. Yesterday, in a huge upset, the number 3 seeded Duke Blue Devils were beaten the number 14 seeded Mercer Bears. That's not supposed to happen. The Duke bench looked stunned as Coach K assumed his predictable "Did someone just break wind?" look. In the Duke coach's defense, he stopped by Mercer's locker room after the game to congratulate them. A very classy move.
Last year, number 15 seeded Florida Gulf Coast made it to the Sweet Sixteen. They play in the Atlantic Sun Conference, the same conference as Mercer. Could Mercer carry the Cinderella torch a little further than their conference rivals did last year? You just never know how two teams will match up against one another.
As I watch the various games, I can't help but notice certain things. For instance, I saw one player go barreling across the baseline and over a bunch of kneeling cheerleaders. As he heads back to the court, he just steps over top of them without as much as an "Excuse me, ladies". That's just plain ass rude! And did anyone catch Baylor's uniforms yesterday? Their neon green jersey were so bright that I'll bet even Stevie Wonder was saying, "Damn, boys! Can you please dim those things??" Baylor's opponents, the Nebraska Cornhuskers, should have demanded sunglasses and eye-black before taking the court.
And what's up with the Saint Louis mascot? They call it a Billiken. But it sure looks like The Grinch to me.
Have you ever listened to some of these post-game interviews? They're the silliest things ever. Yesterday, a reporter was interviewing a player from one of the winning teams. She says, "Great game today, Brandon. Can you elaborate on your aggressive play?"
Brandon, who seems to be looking towards the top row of the arena, answers, "Um yeah, I came out and played aggressive. That was my main plan."
"Very well stated", responds the reporter."Can you explain how you prepared for your opponents quickness?"
"Yeah, we knew they were quick. We were totally prepared for it", Brandon answers back with unwavering certainty. He notices a familiar face in the crowd and points to the person.
"Ok, thanks so much for your insight, Brandon. Congratulations." says the reporter as she ends the so-called interview.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I have no idea who will win the tournament this year. All I know is that it's fun to watch!
kw
Thursday, March 13, 2014
Thumpin' at the Pump
So, earlier today I stopped at a local gas station to fill up the tank. As I'm pumping my gas, I notice a guy, a short distance away, vacuuming his car. Of course, the sound of the vacuum cleaner was no match for the blaring rap music coming from the car's subwoofer. Everyone at the gas station was greeted by a barrage of f-bombs as the car's owner bobbed and weaved to the heavy bass line.
It's not like this is the first time this type has happened. So, why do people do this?? Is it really necessary to blare your music at a place where the majority of the people don't want to hear your music? Do they really think every else wants to listen to this crap?
Several months ago, I was filling up at another gas station. A large, black SUV pulls up to the other side of the pump. This thing is all tricked-out with tinted windows, custom rims, low-profile tires, etc. When the guy opens the door, a blast of hip-hop music hits me like a Ray Rice upper-cut. I'm not kidding you, the pounding bass slapped me so hard that I'm pretty sure that my heart began to fibrillate. The whole time the "singer" was belting out the inspirational lyrics:
Yo, mutha-f*cka!
Yo, mutha-fu*ka!
Yo!!
Eventually making eye contact with the guy, I felt compelled to say something. Half-talking/half-shouting, like you might do in a noisy bar, I said, "I'll bet I can name that tune in two notes!"
Of course, this only brought a blank stare and absolutely no response from the guy. I guess he wasn't familiar with "Name That Tune". He finished filling up and then casually got back into his mobile nightclub. Once he closed the door, the "music" was condensed to a rhythmic series of muffled thumps. The thumps were immediately followed by subtle rattles which I assumed were car parts vibrating loose.
I'm thinking about installing a 10,000 mega-watt stereo system in my car. And then, when someone feels the need to "share" their music with me, I can simply return the favor in the form of a skull-crushing blast of Led Zeppelin! Let 'em chew on that thumping bass line for a while.....
kw
It's not like this is the first time this type has happened. So, why do people do this?? Is it really necessary to blare your music at a place where the majority of the people don't want to hear your music? Do they really think every else wants to listen to this crap?
Several months ago, I was filling up at another gas station. A large, black SUV pulls up to the other side of the pump. This thing is all tricked-out with tinted windows, custom rims, low-profile tires, etc. When the guy opens the door, a blast of hip-hop music hits me like a Ray Rice upper-cut. I'm not kidding you, the pounding bass slapped me so hard that I'm pretty sure that my heart began to fibrillate. The whole time the "singer" was belting out the inspirational lyrics:
Yo, mutha-f*cka!
Yo, mutha-fu*ka!
Yo!!
Eventually making eye contact with the guy, I felt compelled to say something. Half-talking/half-shouting, like you might do in a noisy bar, I said, "I'll bet I can name that tune in two notes!"
Of course, this only brought a blank stare and absolutely no response from the guy. I guess he wasn't familiar with "Name That Tune". He finished filling up and then casually got back into his mobile nightclub. Once he closed the door, the "music" was condensed to a rhythmic series of muffled thumps. The thumps were immediately followed by subtle rattles which I assumed were car parts vibrating loose.
I'm thinking about installing a 10,000 mega-watt stereo system in my car. And then, when someone feels the need to "share" their music with me, I can simply return the favor in the form of a skull-crushing blast of Led Zeppelin! Let 'em chew on that thumping bass line for a while.....
kw
Monday, March 10, 2014
Walmart -The Hat Trick
Walmart can always be an adventure. Case in point, I received this story from a good friend of mine and just had to share it....
.................................................................................................................................................
A few days ago my best friend from high school sent me a 'Vietnam Veteran' cap. I never had one of these before, and I was pretty hyped about it, especially because my friend was considerate enough to take the time to send it to me. Yesterday, I wore it when I went to Wal-Mart. There was nothing in particular that I needed at the world's largest retailer; but, since I retired, trips to Wally World to look at the Walmartians is always good for some comic relief. Besides, I always feel pretty normal after seeing some of the people that frequent the establishment.
But, I digress... enough of my psychological fixations. While standing in line to check out, the guy in front of me, probably in his early thirties, asked, "Are you a Vietnam Vet?"
"No," I replied.
"Then why are you wearing that cap?"?
"Because I couldn't find the one from the War of 1812." I thought it was a snappy retort.
"The War of 1812, huh?" the Walmartian queried, "When was that?"
God forgive me, but I couldn't pass up such an opportunity. "1936," I answered as straight-faced as possible.
He pondered my response for a moment and responded, "Why do they call it the War of 1812 if it was in 1936?"
"It was a Black Op. No one is supposed to know about it."
This was beginning to be way fun!
"Dude! Really?" he exclaimed. "How did you get to do something that COOOOL?"
I glanced furtively around me for effect, leaned toward the guy and in a low voice said, "I'm not sure. I was the only Caucasian on the mission."
"Dude," he was really getting excited about what he was hearing, "that is seriously awesome! But, didn't you kind of stand out?"
"Not really. The other guys were wearing white camouflage." The moron nodded knowingly. "Listen man," I said in a very serious tone, "You can't tell anyone about this. It's still 'top secret' and I shouldn't have said anything."
"Oh yeah?" he gave me the 'don't threaten me look.'
"Like, what's gonna happen if I do?" With a really hard look I said, "You have a family don't you? We wouldn't want anything to happen to them, would we?"
The guy gulped, left his basket where it was and fled through the door. By this time the lady behind me was about to have a heart attack she was laughing so hard. I just grinned at her. After checking out and going to the parking lot I saw Dimwit leaning in a car window talking to a young woman. Upon catching sight of me he started pointing excitedly in my direction. Giving him another 'deadly' serious look, I made the 'I see you' gesture. He turned kind of pale, jumped in the car and sped out of the parking lot. What a great time! Tomorrow I'm going back with my Homeland Security cap. Then the next day I will go to the license agency and wear my Border Patrol hat,and see how long it takes to empty the place. Whoever said retirement is boring just needs the right kind of cap!
In God We Trust!
Friday, March 7, 2014
A World Full of Nicknames
Nicknames come in all shapes, sizes and flavors. Some are flattering, some not so much so. We've all heard the infamous gangster nicknames like Richie the Iceman, Frankie the Spoon, Sammy the Bull, Teflon Don, Scarface, etc.
And who can forget some of the illustrious nicknames of boxers: Evander "The Real Deal" Holyfield, James "Lights Out" Toney, Hector "Macho" Camacho, James "Bonecrusher" Smith, Marvelous Marvin Hagler and Iron Mike Tyson. Of course, in one of boxing's most memorable upsets, Iron Mike was knocked out by a guy who was nicknamed "Buster".
MMA fighters bring us another batch of interesting handles: Chuck "The Iceman" Liddell, Keith "The Dean of Mean" Jardine, Chris "The Crippler" Leben, Stephan "The American Psycho" Bonner and my personal favorite, Wanderlie "The Axe Murderer" Silva. Who in the hell would voluntarily get into a locked cage with a guy named The Axe Murderer??
Of course, as a baseball fan, I must mention Hammerin' Hank Aaron, Ty "The Georgia Peach" Cobb, Willie "The Say Hey Kid" Mays, Cal "Iron Man" Ripken, Jim "Catfish" Hunter. And you must be really good if they name a whole month after you as in Reggie "Mr. October" Jackson. Of course, the best baseball player ever, George Herman Ruth was better known simply as Babe.
Musicians can also be labeled with signature aliases as well. For instance, Eric Clapton is also known as Slowhand. And some of the old bluesmen had some pretty interesting names: Lead Belly, Blind Lemon Jefferson, T-Bone Walker and Muddy Waters. And modern day rappers like Vanilla Ice, Ice-T, Ice Cube, LL Cool J, Jay-Z and Dr. Dre give us a never ending supply of new nicknames. And there's also what sounds like a vertically-challenged group of hip-hoppers like Lil' Bow Wow, Lil' Jon, Lil' Kim, Lil- P-Nut, Lil' Romeo, hang on while I catch my breath..... Lil' Wayne, Lil' Scrappy and Lil' Pappie. We haven't seen this many lil' uns since Dorothy met the Lollipop Kids!
Wouldn't it be cool if someone decided to combine all these names and call themselves Lil' Cool Vanilla Ice Cube? Ok, maybe not.....
And then there's the ever changing nickname of rapper, Sean Combs. He's went from Puff Daddy to Puffy to P. Diddy to Puff to Diddy. This guy has more personalities than Sybil!
I always thought it would be cool to have a nickname. But unfortunately, my "nicknames" were more like insults. For instance, I've always been a bit overweight. So, as a kid, I got the predictable "fat boy" moniker. And perhaps even worse, because my ears were abnormally large, I would sometimes get called Dumbo or Ears. I used to really hate this. Fortunately for me, the rest of my head eventually caught up to my ears.
In my teens, I was temporarily branded with the name "Tank-Arm". I was given this name for my lame attempt to block shots on the basketball court. When an opposing player went to shoot the ball, I would swing at the ball but I'd usually wind up cracking the shooter across the head with my forearm. It got to the point where some of the guys refused to play with me. Yeah, I really sucked at basketball.
And then there's my infamous "Spatman" days from US Gypsum. (There's a whole story dedicated to this "legend". If you want to read more about it, the link is at the end of this page.)*
In my 20's, I played softball. One of the teams that I played for was called The Ballbusters. I always loved that name! Anyway, when the time came to order the team shirts, most of the guys requested that their favorite number and last name be printed on the back. However, instead of "Wilson", I requested that "Crunch" be printed on my shirt. When the coach asked for an explanation, I simply explained that this was the sound that was created when my bat made contact with the ball. It made sense to me. So, whenever the I took the field, I assumed the role of "Captain Crunch". Hey, I figured if no one else was going to give me a cool nickname, I'd do it myself. Following my lead, our good buddy (Rip) had "The Man" printed on his shirt. Rip, who was always more than happy to tell you how great he was, wore the name with pride. (We actually went on to become league champs that year. I guess there's a fine line between cockiness and confidence?)
Yep, there's a nickname for just about everyone. What's yours?
kw
* http://kensmouthpiece.blogspot.com/2010/09/us-gypsum-spatman-era.html
And who can forget some of the illustrious nicknames of boxers: Evander "The Real Deal" Holyfield, James "Lights Out" Toney, Hector "Macho" Camacho, James "Bonecrusher" Smith, Marvelous Marvin Hagler and Iron Mike Tyson. Of course, in one of boxing's most memorable upsets, Iron Mike was knocked out by a guy who was nicknamed "Buster".
MMA fighters bring us another batch of interesting handles: Chuck "The Iceman" Liddell, Keith "The Dean of Mean" Jardine, Chris "The Crippler" Leben, Stephan "The American Psycho" Bonner and my personal favorite, Wanderlie "The Axe Murderer" Silva. Who in the hell would voluntarily get into a locked cage with a guy named The Axe Murderer??
Of course, as a baseball fan, I must mention Hammerin' Hank Aaron, Ty "The Georgia Peach" Cobb, Willie "The Say Hey Kid" Mays, Cal "Iron Man" Ripken, Jim "Catfish" Hunter. And you must be really good if they name a whole month after you as in Reggie "Mr. October" Jackson. Of course, the best baseball player ever, George Herman Ruth was better known simply as Babe.
Musicians can also be labeled with signature aliases as well. For instance, Eric Clapton is also known as Slowhand. And some of the old bluesmen had some pretty interesting names: Lead Belly, Blind Lemon Jefferson, T-Bone Walker and Muddy Waters. And modern day rappers like Vanilla Ice, Ice-T, Ice Cube, LL Cool J, Jay-Z and Dr. Dre give us a never ending supply of new nicknames. And there's also what sounds like a vertically-challenged group of hip-hoppers like Lil' Bow Wow, Lil' Jon, Lil' Kim, Lil- P-Nut, Lil' Romeo, hang on while I catch my breath..... Lil' Wayne, Lil' Scrappy and Lil' Pappie. We haven't seen this many lil' uns since Dorothy met the Lollipop Kids!
Wouldn't it be cool if someone decided to combine all these names and call themselves Lil' Cool Vanilla Ice Cube? Ok, maybe not.....
And then there's the ever changing nickname of rapper, Sean Combs. He's went from Puff Daddy to Puffy to P. Diddy to Puff to Diddy. This guy has more personalities than Sybil!
I always thought it would be cool to have a nickname. But unfortunately, my "nicknames" were more like insults. For instance, I've always been a bit overweight. So, as a kid, I got the predictable "fat boy" moniker. And perhaps even worse, because my ears were abnormally large, I would sometimes get called Dumbo or Ears. I used to really hate this. Fortunately for me, the rest of my head eventually caught up to my ears.
In my teens, I was temporarily branded with the name "Tank-Arm". I was given this name for my lame attempt to block shots on the basketball court. When an opposing player went to shoot the ball, I would swing at the ball but I'd usually wind up cracking the shooter across the head with my forearm. It got to the point where some of the guys refused to play with me. Yeah, I really sucked at basketball.
And then there's my infamous "Spatman" days from US Gypsum. (There's a whole story dedicated to this "legend". If you want to read more about it, the link is at the end of this page.)*
In my 20's, I played softball. One of the teams that I played for was called The Ballbusters. I always loved that name! Anyway, when the time came to order the team shirts, most of the guys requested that their favorite number and last name be printed on the back. However, instead of "Wilson", I requested that "Crunch" be printed on my shirt. When the coach asked for an explanation, I simply explained that this was the sound that was created when my bat made contact with the ball. It made sense to me. So, whenever the I took the field, I assumed the role of "Captain Crunch". Hey, I figured if no one else was going to give me a cool nickname, I'd do it myself. Following my lead, our good buddy (Rip) had "The Man" printed on his shirt. Rip, who was always more than happy to tell you how great he was, wore the name with pride. (We actually went on to become league champs that year. I guess there's a fine line between cockiness and confidence?)
Yep, there's a nickname for just about everyone. What's yours?
kw
* http://kensmouthpiece.blogspot.com/2010/09/us-gypsum-spatman-era.html
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
The Woes of Winter
As we make our way through the winter, there are certain people who seem oblivious to the windchill and other elements of the, ever-so-popular, Polar Vortex. For instance, I'm driving up the road the other morning. The temperature outside was about 2 degrees. As I'm waiting for my car's heater to restore the feeling back into my fingers and toes, all I can to do keep warm is think about a sunny beach somewhere far south of here. My visions of island girls and palm trees are quickly interrupted as I catch a glimpse of a female jogger running along the side of the road. She's wearing a pair of those thin Lycra running pants and a light warm-up jacket. She seems to be defying all of the natural physics laws regarding frostbite.
And then there are the cigarette smokers. Have you ever noticed how they huddle up outside of an office building, freezing their asses off as they puff away? I saw one guy shivering so bad, he was barely able to get the cigarette into mouth. Every time he went to take a puff, he would poke various parts of his face with the cigarette before eventually finding his mark. I was worried that he might put his eye out before it was all over. As he assumed the trademark look of the "Alpine Smoker" (one hand in his pocket with both shoulders hunched up), I couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him. By the way, why do smokers hunch their shoulders up like this in the winter? Does it really make them warmer?
Have you ever been having a conversation outside in the winter and your mouth begins to freeze shut? I'm serious. The other day, I was talking to a colleague as we exited an office building. After about five minutes, I began to have trouble forming my words. I soon realized that it was because my mouth was gradually freezing. With each passing second, I began to sound more and more like Bob Dylan. I abruptly threw my hand up to my friend and tried my best to say, "I gotta go." Of course, it came out like, "Idaho."
A few weeks ago, my tennis buddies invited me up to the courts to play a few sets. Even though the temperature was still in the 30's, I was eager to get out. However, after about 15 minutes, my hands turned blue and developed the flexibility of an ice cube. I felt like a arthritic Papa Smurf as I desperately tried to grasp the tennis racquet. Meanwhile, people were driving past on nearby Dorsey Road, beeping their horns and yelling, "Hey, you assholes! Is it cold enough for ya?" It was bad enough to be out her freezing my ass off. Now, I had to take a barrage of insults too. Was this really necessary??
Last week, the Fedex guy shows up at my door with a package. As I opened the door, I was blinded by the sunlight reflecting off of the snow in my front yard. It was like staring directly into a solar eclipse. Instinctively, I shielded my eyes with my forearm and said, "Whoa! What the hell??" The Fedex guy probably thought I was nuts as I reached for the package with my forearm still draped across my forehead.
Yesterday, as I drove out of my neighborhood, my bitter feelings toward Mother Nature grew ever more closer to the irreconcilable stage. Having a hard time distinguishing between the wet asphalt and black ice, I was forced to drive considerably slower than the posted speed limit. This, in itself, was reason enough for me to hurl several more four-letter insults at the Nature Lady.
For some unknown reason, I am always fooled into thinking that March will instantly bring in, at least, a hint of spring. But as yesterday's snow showed us, winter is determined to hang around a little while longer. With St. Patricks Day is right around the corner, I'm now wondering if the sacred holiday of green beer and Irish Car Bombs will be jeopardized. For Irishmen, like myself, this would be a major disappointment (Ok, I'm not technically Irish, but I'm pretty good at making the McWilson assimilation in mid-March.). I can tell you this much....if it comes down to a battle between Mother Nature and a drunken Leprechaun, I will be rooting for the little, angry green guy!!
kw
And then there are the cigarette smokers. Have you ever noticed how they huddle up outside of an office building, freezing their asses off as they puff away? I saw one guy shivering so bad, he was barely able to get the cigarette into mouth. Every time he went to take a puff, he would poke various parts of his face with the cigarette before eventually finding his mark. I was worried that he might put his eye out before it was all over. As he assumed the trademark look of the "Alpine Smoker" (one hand in his pocket with both shoulders hunched up), I couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him. By the way, why do smokers hunch their shoulders up like this in the winter? Does it really make them warmer?
Have you ever been having a conversation outside in the winter and your mouth begins to freeze shut? I'm serious. The other day, I was talking to a colleague as we exited an office building. After about five minutes, I began to have trouble forming my words. I soon realized that it was because my mouth was gradually freezing. With each passing second, I began to sound more and more like Bob Dylan. I abruptly threw my hand up to my friend and tried my best to say, "I gotta go." Of course, it came out like, "Idaho."
A few weeks ago, my tennis buddies invited me up to the courts to play a few sets. Even though the temperature was still in the 30's, I was eager to get out. However, after about 15 minutes, my hands turned blue and developed the flexibility of an ice cube. I felt like a arthritic Papa Smurf as I desperately tried to grasp the tennis racquet. Meanwhile, people were driving past on nearby Dorsey Road, beeping their horns and yelling, "Hey, you assholes! Is it cold enough for ya?" It was bad enough to be out her freezing my ass off. Now, I had to take a barrage of insults too. Was this really necessary??
Last week, the Fedex guy shows up at my door with a package. As I opened the door, I was blinded by the sunlight reflecting off of the snow in my front yard. It was like staring directly into a solar eclipse. Instinctively, I shielded my eyes with my forearm and said, "Whoa! What the hell??" The Fedex guy probably thought I was nuts as I reached for the package with my forearm still draped across my forehead.
Yesterday, as I drove out of my neighborhood, my bitter feelings toward Mother Nature grew ever more closer to the irreconcilable stage. Having a hard time distinguishing between the wet asphalt and black ice, I was forced to drive considerably slower than the posted speed limit. This, in itself, was reason enough for me to hurl several more four-letter insults at the Nature Lady.
For some unknown reason, I am always fooled into thinking that March will instantly bring in, at least, a hint of spring. But as yesterday's snow showed us, winter is determined to hang around a little while longer. With St. Patricks Day is right around the corner, I'm now wondering if the sacred holiday of green beer and Irish Car Bombs will be jeopardized. For Irishmen, like myself, this would be a major disappointment (Ok, I'm not technically Irish, but I'm pretty good at making the McWilson assimilation in mid-March.). I can tell you this much....if it comes down to a battle between Mother Nature and a drunken Leprechaun, I will be rooting for the little, angry green guy!!
kw
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
