The "Outta Leftfield" Weblog

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2010-03-27T09:14:00.001-07:00

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A ballgame breaks out at the spelling bee

2010-03-23T10:26:00.000-07:00

The spelling bee is a useful educational tool that promotes learning and competition, but really, it’s not a spectator sport.
For those of you who have been to a spelling bee, this is not news. But believe it or not, I hadn’t been to one in a very long time until last weekend when Son of Blonde Accountant represented his school at the Our Lady of I Before E Except After C spelling bee in Quakertown.
It was what you would expect from a spelling bee of about 30 or so sixth, seventh and eighth graders. It was sponsored by the local Knights of Columbus club, always and forever a noble group of community-minded folks.
Our guy went out in the third round after having some difficulty on the word “difficulty.” He had added and errant “l” to make it “difficultly.”
But the reality is that watching a spelling bee is about like watching the proverbial paint dry . . . with one exception this time: At intermission, a ballgame broke out at this spelling bee with the serving of . . . hotdogs!
Hotdogs. H-O-T-D-O-G-S. Hotdogs. That I can spell. With M-U-S-T-A-R-D, of course.
I can’t help but think that spelling bees in general would be more entertaining if hotdogs were served at every competition. I’m going to call the Knights of Columbus guys and see if they can get that done.

Is it the right time for a dinosaur poo watch?

2010-03-17T19:39:00.000-07:00

One wonders how an idea like this came about: A Swiss watchmaker has decided to make a timepiece in fossilized dinosaur poo.
Certainly beer was involved in the decision-making process.
According to a wire service story, watch designer Yvan Arpa (which I believe in Swedish translates into “Bob Knucklehead”) has decided to forego the standard watch-making elements of gold, diamond or titanium and make a watch out of dinosaur poo.
And sell it for $11,290. Oh, and the watch strap on which the dinosaur poo timepiece is attached will be made from the skin of an American cane toad.
Bob is quoted as saying that the doo-doo came from a plant-eating dinosaur that died about 100 million years ago in what is now the United States. No mention is made in the wire service story as to the legitimacy of those claims.
Forget the “creativeness” of the idea, how does one go about locating fossilized dinosaur dung?
Ideas like this can elicit only one response from me: You gotta be bleepin’ me.

Hall & Oates belong in the 'hall'

2010-03-16T07:00:00.000-07:00

Every year when the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame announces its newest class there is debate, not only about who gets in but about who has yet to be inducted.
This year ABBA, along with Genesis, The Hollies and The Stooges, were among those honored with induction and right away, folks are clamoring: What about Chicago? What about KISS? Moody Blues, Jethro Tull, Three Dog Night? The list of deserving musicians not in the rock hall is longer than the list of inductees.
For me, it’s, “What about Hall & Oates?” And it’s not because Daryl and John, from Pottstown and North Wales respectively, are local boys. It’s not because I have had the pleasure of interviewing each of them for stories in Montgomery Newspapers over the past few years.
It’s because every time I get into my car, I’ll choose a Hall & Oates album to listen to over just about any other CD that I have. It’s about the music. I virtually grew up with, and have liked a good number, of H&O songs over the years.
Why, I even considered naming Older Daughter
“Sarah Smile Morsch.” That’s how much I liked that song and that music.
The KISS and Chicago fans — of which I consider myself one of both groups — can wait. Television personality Rachel Ray, who has been lobbying for H&O to be inducted into the rock hall, is right. Daryl and John belong.
And really, I like ABBA, but if that group can get through the doors of the Rock and Roll Hall of fame, then H&O are overdue. In fact, at the very least, John Oates’ moustache should be in the rock hall of fame.
Whose arm do I have to twist on this one? You know, as we say in Philly, “I know a guy.”

Secret Service's job not really a secret

2010-03-09T11:17:00.000-08:00

There is a reason we have an organization in this country that calls itself the Secret Service. It’s because there are some secrets that need to be kept when it comes to securing the safety of the POTUS (President of the United States).
I had momentarily forgotten that basic premise when President Barack Obama came to Arcadia University in Glenside Monday morning.
It was not the first time I had covered a presidential speech, so I was well aware of the security drill. But I got caught up in some technological advances we’re trying out here at the newspaper and did something stupid.
See, reporters are now carrying Flip cameras, little hand-held devices that we can use to record video clips that we post with our stories online at www.montgomerynews.com. I decided that I would test out my Flip camera during the president’s appearance.
Once I had cleared the security checkpoint, I did what most reporters do: I started looking for people to interview and scenes to video.
Of course, since I was only a few steps removed from the security checkpoint for media personnel — a checkpoint that included Secret Service agents with metal detector wands and a bomb-sniffing dog — I thought it would be interesting to video the process that we in the media had to undergo to enter the building where the president would be speaking.
We’ll call that “Mike First Stupid Idea of the Day.” (And it was early, so it likely wouldn’t be the last stupid thing I did that day.)
So I held up my little video camera and started taking shots. Within seconds, out of the corner of my eye, I could see a Secret Service agent quickly approaching.
“You can’t videotape security measures. That will end up on the internet. You need to erase that immediately,” said the agent.
Doh!
Unfortunately, I had not yet played enough with the new toy to know how to erase anything on it. So I punched all the buttons and assured the agent that the offending video was gone.
The guy was doing his job and I was doing my job. This time, he was much better at his than I was at mine and given the circumstances, I’m OK with that.

Flower show makes a nice centerpiece

2010-03-02T07:20:00.000-08:00

Every year I go to the Philadelphia International Flower Show. It’s the very least I can do. After all, The Blonde Accountant goes to Phillies games with me, so I try to return the favor by going with her to events that she favors. (For the record, the one event she won’t accompany me to is rasslin’ but if you know her, that is no real surprise.)
I usually end up enjoying the flower show for what it is — a flower show. What’s not to like? It’s visually pleasing and smells good (kind of like The Blonde Accountant now that I think about it.)
The only problem I ever have at the flower show is that the cement floor of the convention center plays seven kinds of hooey with my knees. But the convention center drinking fountains always seem to offer the coldest water, so that evens the score for me.
The other aspect I like about the flower show is that beforehand we usually combine it with a stop at (Shameless Promotion Alert) Reading Terminal Market and then afterwards, we have dinner at (Another Shameless Promotion Alert) Maggiano’s.
It’s not a ballgame, but the flower show makes a nice centerpiece for a trip into the big city. And it’s all wrapped up within a few blocks.

After 30 years, film still a '10'

2010-03-02T07:18:00.000-08:00

Hard to believe that the movie “10” is more than 30 years old.
I caught the film for the first time in many years recently on one of the cable movie channels. As you know, it stars the late Dudley Moore, the wonderful Julie Andrews and introduced the . . . uh . . . scantily clad Bo Derek. It came out in 1979, my second year of college, and at a time I was still feeling the effects of a year’s worth of “Animal House” toga partying.
But with age comes some perspective. I’m pretty sure that in 1979, my focus was squarely on Derek and her impressive assets. If one does a Google search on “20-year-old college male in 1979,” there is likely to be some reference of Bo Derek’s assets.
Watching the film now, the things that strike me are the comedic talents of Moore and the wonderful musical score by Henry Mancini. Hmmm. A film that features Bo Derek cavorting around virtually nekked throughout the picture and at age 50, I have more of an appreciation for Dudley Moore and Henry Mancini?
It’s official: I am now an old guy.

Everybody needs a little 'Yee-ha!'

2010-02-23T07:17:00.000-08:00

There are times it seems where everybody needs a little “Yee-ha!” in their life. Or maybe that’s just me since I’ve got a Midwestern background, where “Yee-ha!” is more plentiful than it is here on the East Coast.
Last weekend provided such an opportunity for me, at one of my favorite places on the planet, the Sellersville Theater 1894. That’s where bluegrass and country legend Ricky Skaggs performed two shows on Saturday, the first of which I attended.
I was forced to go it alone because The Blonde Accountant is an East Coast girl who’s hip. I really dig those styles she wears. In reality though, she doesn’t have an ounce of “Yee-ha!” in her entire body. Getting her to come along was a tough sell and although I tried right up until it was time to leave for the concert, I never closed the deal.
But Ricky Skaggs does have a bunch of “Yee-ha!” because he’s a good old boy who hails from the mountains of Eastern Kentucky who has been playing bluegrass music since he was a youngster, which is about 50 years now.
Now bluegrass music isn’t really my thing, although I do like the theme song to the “Beverly Hillbillies.” And any time you go see a band that has a banjo, a fiddle and a mandolin it in, you’re going to experience a fair amount of “Yee-ha!” in the show.
But Skaggs, who plays the mandolin, and his band Kentucky Thunder are the best in the business and I quite enjoyed the concert.
I had interviewed Skaggs a few weeks ago for a preview story on his Sellersville visit and he was articulate, gracious and chatty during our telephone conversation. I was fortunate enough to be introduced to him after the show. It was a short meeting and he was much less chatty, although in all fairness, he probably wasn’t much interested in a rumpled reporter hitting him with a big “Yee-ha!”
Of course, I now had an extra “Yee-ha!” that I needed to get rid of, so I saved it for The Blonde Accountant when I got home. Not surprisingly, she didn’t want much to do with it either.
I guess everybody doesn’t need a little “Yee-ha!” in their life, but I’ve still got a few extras to pass out. Don’t be surprised if you get one the next time we talk.

Remembering Sheriff Durante

2010-02-16T07:39:00.000-08:00

Early on in my career as editor of the Times Herald in Norristown sometime in 2001, I wrote an editorial in support of the way Montgomery County Sheriff John Durante handled a situation involving his deputies.
From then on, our paths crossed professionally and personally many times over the years. I once sat with him in the owner’s box at Veterans Stadium, shooting the breeze during a game between the Phillies and the Dodgers. We served together on the advisory board of the Montgomery County Coaches Hall of Fame.
If my job required me to talk to him in an official capacity, I always found him to be credible and honest in dealing with the county’s business. If there was no official business to conduct, John was always ready with a back-slapping story, willing to occasionally bend and elbow and toss in a few profanities while doing it.
I considered it a unique relationship between an elected public official and a journalist based on mutual trust and respect.
John called me Monday morning, Feb. 8. He had something cooking with his good pal, Dodgers Hall of Fame manager Tommy Lasorda, a Norristown native, that he wanted to share with me. We talked about John’s pending trip to Florida for spring training, one that he took nearly every year. He knew that I always liked to talk baseball and he was more than willing to share baseball stories with me. I always yukked it up when John told a story.
Less than 48 hours later, John died at home from a massive heart attack. Despite some previous heart problems, his sudden death has shocked many in our local communities. His funeral is this week.
I considered him a friend. I respected him, I liked him and I’ll miss him.

PETA's poking at Phil a real PITA

2010-02-02T06:39:00.000-08:00

The key to the shenanigans surrounding the whole Punxsutawney Phil thing is that those involved don’t take themselves too seriously.
Apparently, the good folks at People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) didn’t get the memo. This year, the group was suggesting that Phil be replaced with a robotic stand-in because it’s unfair to the groundhog to not only keep him in captivity but then to subject him to throngs of people and the bright lights that come with all of the media attention.
Huh?
Stinkin’ media and its bright lights. Crumb bums the whole lot of them. Why, no self-respecting gopher can even dig a tunnel and ruin a golf course (“Caddyshack” reference for those of you wondering) without the media sticking its nose in nowadays.
According to William Deeley, president of the Inner Circle of the Punxsutawney Groundhog Club — the Grand Groundhog Guy, or Triple-G, as it were — Phil is “treated better than the average child in Pennsylvania.”
Phil’s crib is in a climate-controlled environment and the varmint doesn’t miss too many meals tipping the scales at 12 lbs., a bit heavier than the average groundhog that weighs in at 9 and one-half lbs.
Well . . . maybe it wasn’t a good idea that Triple-G used an analogy that suggested we treat our groundhogs better than we treat our children in Pennsylvania. That certainly opens the door for the PETA faithful burrow into Phil’s business.
Still, Deeley may have been right when he said that PETA doesn’t give a hang about Phil any other time of the year and was just looking for publicity around Groundhog’s Day.
Certainly PETA has better causes to pursue than poking at Phil with a stick. PETA needs to worry about being PETA. Or it will end up being a PITA.

Throwing cold water on 'human bed warmers' idea

2010-01-26T07:43:00.000-08:00

It appears I lack that entrepreneurial spirit and imagination.
Nearly every night during the winter months, I try to be a considerate spouse by climbing into The Blonde Accountant’s side of the bed. The idea here is to warm her side up while she is in the bathroom completing whatever skin ritual it is she performs every evening.
And she always compliments me on my ability to make her side of the bed toasty warm. Now, somebody has figured out how to make bed toasting a full-time job. And it wasn’t me, although I’ve had plenty of time to lie there every night and think up the idea myself.
According to a wire service story, the international branch of Holiday Inn is offering, on a trial basis, human bed-warming services at three hotels in Britain.
Apparently, if requested by a guest, somebody will come into to your hotel room fully dressed in an all-in-one sleeper suit and some type of covering over their hair and get in your bed to warm it up. The person would then leave the bed before the guest climbed in, at least that’s the hotel’s theory.
I’m sorry, I don’t believe this particular hotel amenity interests me. I don’t want a big galoot named Gus in my bed. And you know it will be big galoots who get these jobs because they can warm up more of the bed’s surface. I know this because I am a big galoot and I can warm up a lot of the surface in my bed.
And by the way, what if the guest takes too long with his or her nightly bathroom ritual and good old Gus does his job so well that he falls asleep in the nice, toasty bed that he has just created?
“The new Holiday Inn bed warmers service is a bit like having a giant hot water bottle in your bed,” said Holiday Inn spokeswoman Jane Bednall in the wire service story.
So that begs the question, why not just offer guests a complimentary hot water bottle instead?

Preserving Gilligan for the next generation

2010-01-19T07:09:00.000-08:00

File this one under the little pleasures in life: While strolling through Target recently I happened across the discount DVD section, where occasionally one can find unexpected treasures.
And I found one: The complete DVD series of seasons one and two of “Gilligan’s Island.” For $15. Beautimous.
I remember coming home from school in the 1960s and watching Gilligan, the Skipper too, the Millionaire . . . and his wife, the Movie Star, the Professor and Mary Ann.
Of course, I watched the show in reruns for many years after that, well into adulthood.
The series actually lasted three seasons, so I still need to locate season three on DVD. It originally ran on CBS from 1964 to 1967. By the way — and I knew this from watching the show as a kid and paying attention to the trivial aspects of the show — the Skipper’s name in the show was Captain Jonas Grumby (played by Alan Hale Jr.) and the Professor’s name was Roy Hinkley (played by Russell Johnson).
And for the record, I always preferred Mary Ann. Must have been my Midwestern upbringing.
It occurred to me when I bought the DVDs that this was a show I’d want to share with my grandchildren someday. I hope future generations have more appreciation for a character like Gilligan than they do for, say, a character like SpongeBob SquarePants.
Then again, maybe not. I guess every generation is entitled to have its bumbling — and charming — idiots.

The Sarah Palin circus worth noting

2010-01-12T07:45:00.000-08:00

Maybe it’s a good thing that former Alaska governor and Republican vice presidential nominee Sarah Palin has accepted a gig on Fox as a talking head. Maybe now we will get a more complete accounting of her inadequacies.
According to the new book “Game Change” by Mark Halperin and John Heilemann, more of a real picture has emerged about Palin during the presidential campaign: that she didn’t know there were two Koreas; that she believed Saddam Hussein was responsible for the Sept. 11 attacks; that she was unaware of the functions of the Federal Reserve; and that according to Sen. John McCain’s chief strategist Steve Schmidt in an appearance on “60 Minutes,” Palin “routinely said things that were provably, demonstrably untrue.”
All of this will mean nothing to Palin supporters. The Republican Party has essentially been hijacked by the Looney Tunes fringe and constructive political discourse that could actually lead to something that helps the American people has not been part of the equation for a while now in the Looney Tunes platform.
So let’s get Gov. Palin in front of the Fox cameras as soon as we can and let’s hope that the poohbahs at Fox give her carte blanche to flap her gums until the cows come home.
The hope here is that the more she talks, the more her slip will show and she won’t sneak up on anybody come 2012.

'Mr. Blutarsky. Zero point zero.'

2010-01-05T07:41:00.000-08:00

As one who usually stays in around New Year’s Eve, I’ve found over the years it’s easy to become a television-watching couch potato because a lot of my personal favorite movies and shows are aired.
This year, I was tickled by an all-day and all-night Three Stooges marathon; an all-day Sherlock Holmes film festival; a Humphrey Bogart-Lauren Bacall film run; a couple of episodes of “Hawaii 5-0”; and the movies “Animal House,” “Caddyshack,” “Goodfellas” and “Field of Dreams.”
Of course, not even the most devoted Stooges fan can endure hour after hour of those shenanigans without a break, so that’s why it’s good to have other options. I’ve always been a fan of the Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce version of “Sherlock Holmes,” filmed mostly in the 1940s. (I have yet to see the current “Sherlock Holmes” now in theaters.) I also liked the “Charlie Chan” series from that same era.
And what else can be said about Bogie and Bacall at this point? The first time I saw “To Have and Have Not” I fell in love with a then 19-year-old Lauren Bacall and have been enamored with her ever since. It was their first film together and the beginning of what would turn into a great love story.
As for “Hawaii 5-0”, it was one of my favorite shows as a kid and I spent many a night ditching the books in college so I could watch reruns of the show on late-night TV, primarily just so I could hear Steve McGarrett say “Book ’em, Dano!” at the end of each episode.
All of which may help explain my fondness for the aforementioned films, especially “Animal House.” It was released the year I started college, so not only was “Hawaii 5-0” interrupting my studies to some extent, I spent a good portion of that first year in college attending toga parties, where I quickly learned to study beer and women.
To this day, when I see “Animal House,” I laugh at the line, “Mr. Blutarsky. Zero point zero.”
I can certainly relate.

This panto has nothing to do with The Lone Ranger

2009-12-15T07:29:00.000-08:00

Ya gotta love any production that encourages the audience to boo the bad guys. I love booing the bad guys.
And that was certainly one aspect that kept me entertained at People’s Light and Theatre’s production, “Snow White: A Musical Panto,” which runs through Jan. 3 at the Malvern theater.
And here I thought Panto was the Lone Ranger’s sidekick. Turns out a panto is part fractured fairy tale and part variety show. Who knew?
And the talented folks at People’s Light are an absolute hoot in this show, which in the true spirit of a Bullwinkle cartoon, appeals to both children and adults.
I’m not a theater critic. I go to shows to be entertained, not to look for flaws in performances. And this “Snow White” entertained me as much as I’ve ever been entertained in a theater. Younger Daughter was with me on this excursion and she is involved in theater arts at her high school. She, too, gave this show high marks.
While all the performers were brilliant, my favorites were Pierre the personal chef, played by Christopher Patrick Mullen, and Miles the butler, played by Chris Faith. Those guys cracked me up every time they appeared on stage. I’d like to go out on the town with those two guys, but only if they stayed in character. Younger Daughter liked the movie director Vladimir Von Upchuck, played by Jeff Coon, and George the gardener, played by Dustin Karrat.
Of course, Regina Valo (the Wicked Queen) played by Lois Sach Binder, was extremely boo-able, which I quite enjoyed. If I was an actor, I’d want to play the villain. It looks like so much fun, and Ms. Binder nailed it.
If you haven’t experienced People’s Light, you should do so. It’s a fabulous local treasure and I’ve never seen a bad show there. And “Snow White: A Musical Panto” is s great way to experience People’s Light.
Laughing all night long and booing the bad guys. It really doesn’t get any better than that.

Some deserve their 15 minutes, others don't

2009-12-08T07:30:00.000-08:00

There are a few local things that interest me this week and a few not so local things that don’t interest me, and in fact, are trying my patience.
Among the people I find compelling is Philadelphia singer-songwriter Mutlu, who was scheduled to perform Dec. 11 at the Sellersville Theater.
Unfortunately, a car accident has sidelined him for a little while and canceled the Sellersville show for now. When he has rescheduled, look for a story on him Ticket magazine inside your local newspaper.
He’s the next generation of Philly soul and his career at this point has been influenced by local sons Daryl Hall and John Oates. I’ve seen Mutlu perform a few times and he’s quite good.
Here’s hoping he has a speedy recovery and can get back on the Sellersville schedule in quick order.
The other group that’s caught my eye is called Straight No Chaser, an a cappella group of 10 guys who will perform Dec. 18 at the Keswick Theater in Glenside.
These guys have an amazing sound. We’re trying to put together a preview story for next week on their appearance in this area. Check them out online and on YouTube.
Mutlu and Straight No Chaser are legitimate talents and deserve well more than their 15 minutes.
Consequently, there are a few stories on the national scene that are just wearing me out.
First, there’s Tiger Woods. I don’t play golf and I don’t watch golf on TV. It’s a challenging sport, but boring nonetheless. I’m a baseball player. When I hit a ball, somebody else should chase it. I shouldn’t have to track it down and hit it again.
As for Tiger’s personal life, I really don’t care. It does not impact my life in any way.
Then there are those two goofs who snuck into a state dinner allegedly without an invitation and got face time with both President Obama and Vice President Biden, among others.
OK, so the Secret Service needs to be perfect and wasn’t on this one. Fine, let it examine its security procedures and make the necessary adjustments so that something like this doesn’t happen again.
As for the two party-crashing reality TV wannabes, if everybody just ignores them, maybe they’ll go away. They got 15 minutes that should have gone to somebody more deserving.

'Executive parking' prowess on Black Friday

2009-12-01T06:51:00.000-08:00

The best strategy for Black Friday has always been just to stay home. I don’t quite understand the thought processes of those choose to camp out in front of a big retail store just so they can save a few bucks on a big-screen TV. It’s not like we’re camping outside in the crummy weather for Springsteen tickets for crying out loud.
Oddly enough though, the planets were temporarily aligned for me on Black Friday, and I found myself actually contemplating going out amongst the crazy-go-nuts shoppers and drivers. So much so that I actually needed a plan and this was a new thing for me because my Black Friday strategy up to this point was to take a daylong nap in the comfort of my own home.
So here was the plan: Leave for the mall at about 4 p.m. that afternoon — hoping that the really hardcore shoppers were worn out by then — and get back to the house by 6 p.m. to avoid those shoppers who had to work that day and were going shopping that evening.
And I must admit that strategy worked to perfection. Not only did we make it to the mall and three other places in the allotted time frame, we got what I like to call “executive parking” at all four stops.
Executive parking in this instance includes those parking spaces closest to the doors of the stores of which one wishes to frequent.
See, when I’m in the car by myself, I usually have to park in the back 40 of any parking lot I frequent. But when The Blonde Accountant is in the car, we seem to have this uncanny knack of getting the sweet parking spots.
In fact, the running gag over the years has been for me to say, “Hey, did you call ahead for your parking spot.” It happens almost every time.
I thought that her luck would run out on Black Friday given the overall craziness of the day, but it didn’t.
Naturally, given this newest — and impressive — evidence of her good fortune, The Blonde Accountant is now in charge of getting my lottery tickets.

Hey you kids, turn down that bad singing!

2009-11-23T07:57:00.000-08:00

I get that every generation has its music. And I get that every generation thinks its music is better than the music of other eras.
Hey, our grandparents thought Elvis was a freak. And our parents rolled their eyes at the antics of Elton John and David Bowie.
But I must admit that I am now closer to the mentality shared by past generations, which is a nicer way to say that I am now in full-fledged Oldguyhood. I watched the American Music Awards Sunday night and thought for the most part, the music stunk.
Especially Rihanna. I don’t know all that much about her but I know she’s supposed to be a big deal in the music industry. The problem is, I didn’t think she could carry a tune in a bucket.
Just to make sure, I texted Younger Daughter: “I didn’t know Rihanna didn’t know how to sing. I thought she was supposed to be good?”
Younger Daughter responded: “She stinks in live performances.”
Oh. OK, so Rihanna was just having a bad night. Everybody has those now and again. I try not to have mine in front of millions of television viewers, but I usually don’t have to worry about that. And besides, Rihanna looks a lot better in a skintight, white peek-a-boo body suit than I do. So maybe she really doesn’t have to sing much.
Then there was Eminem, 50 Cent and Timbaland. I always thought the guy’s name was M&M, like the candy. That was wrong. Anyway, these guys are called hip-hoppers I’m told. They all performed at the awards show and I can state with absolute certainty that I did not understand one word any of them sang. Or hipped. Or hopped. Or whatever it is they do.
We had musicians that didn’t enunciate either. Hello, Bob Dylan.
All I can do is echo the words of my forefathers: These crazy kids and their loud music.

High regard for the goofy and geeky

2009-11-23T07:54:00.000-08:00

I was never much for science. At a school open house, I usually gravitate toward the English Department to find writers.
But at a recent high school open house, it was the science teachers that provided the most entertainment because they were the most goofy and geeky, two qualities I hold in high regard.
The most interesting classroom on this visit was the science lab, where the teachers had set up a bunch of microscopes in which visitors could look through and see a variety of gross things, the origin of which is known only to science teachers.
Science teachers have a unique sense of humor. On this evening, they had laid out a big stinkin’ snake on a tray, which from my vantage point from across the parking lot (I really don’t like snakes at all) looked like it was about the size of a bazooka. I couldn’t really tell if it was dead at first, but it turns out that it was and was tagged to eventually be dissected.
At one point, I approached one science teacher who was fiddling around with a big, sealed bag of something, so I maneuvered away from the big snake and toward the big bag.
Turns out it was a bag of brains. Har-dee-har-har.
“Excuse me, Mr. Wizard. But that looks like a bag full of brains you’re fiddling around with there,” I said.
Of course, he gave me the 25-cent explanation that had a lot of 25-cent words in it that I didn’t understand as to why he was left holding the bag of brains. At one point, I believe we discussed the benefits of actual dissection as opposed to virtual dissection, and I didn’t understand any of that either.
“I’m sorry sir,” I said. “I just came to this open house because I thought cookies would be served. But I ended up in here talking to you while you were holding a bag of brains.”
And instead of eating cookies I ended up nearly tossing mine.

Hey JoePa, a little help would have been nice

2009-11-10T06:25:00.000-08:00

One week the Phillies are playing in the World Series and my alma mater, the University of Iowa, had an undefeated football team and was sniffing around a possible national championship. It was good to be me.
And then everything went kablooey on both fronts the next week. The New York Yankees spoiled back-to-back world titles hopes for the Phils and then a bunch of smart guys from Northwestern University handed the Hawkeyes their first gridiron defeat of the season and dashed any premature talk about a national college football championship. And it was bad to be me.
Naturally, both teams could have used a little help, especially the Hawkeyes. And they could have used it from JoePa and our friends at Penn State.
See, I have no particular rivalry problem with Penn State. The Nittany Lions weren’t even in the Big Ten Conference when I was at Iowa. I am friends with a lot of Penn State graduates. But I don’t have any love loss for the Ohio State Buckeyes, and that’s who Penn State played last week.
Certainly Iowa could have controlled its own destiny by just beating Northwestern. But since that didn’t happen, Iowa was hoping that Penn State could knock off Ohio State, which didn’t happen. Now Iowa goes to Ohio State this week in a must-win situation essentially to determine the Big Ten’s representative in the Rose Bowl.
Had Iowa beaten Northwestern and Penn State beaten Ohio State, then the Hawkeyes wouldn’t have to win this week in front of an unfriendly crowd in Columbus, Ohio.
Ahhh, phooey. College football frustrates me. But hey, only 14 weeks until pitchers and catchers report.

Meeting Brian Wilson backstage

2009-11-03T11:16:00.000-08:00

As Brian Wilson might say, “Maybe if we think and wish and hope and pray it might come true.”
And it did. I got to meet Brian Wilson last week before his show at the Keswick Theater in Glenside.
It’s not often one gets a chance to actually meet the person whose work has had such an impact on one’s life.
I could go on and on about that, but fans of the Beach Boys and Brian Wilson know what I’m talking about. The music has moved me, touched me and helped shape me along the way. It has helped define me as the person I am today.
But there I was, with my wife The Blonde Accountant, backstage at the Keswick, shaking hands with Brian, courtesy of his band director Jeffrey Foskett, who I had interviewed for a preview story on the Glenside concert.
Of course, I immediately turned into a 12-year-old boy who had just discovered girls for the first time — sweaty, trembling hands, knees visibly shaking, blathering something completely incoherent.
Brian has a nice, firm handshake. I knew he was taller than me, but he seemed even a little taller than I expected. He signed a copy of my story, as did Jeffrey. I had previously purchased a 45 rpm record of “Surfer Girl” at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland in August, and Brian was gracious enough to sign that as well.
Then we had our picture taken, and Brian threw his arm around my shoulder. As you can see in the picture that accompanies this story, Brian, Jeffrey and I all got the “blue shirt” memo that day and flawlessly executed the pre-concert procedure.
As an added and humbling bonus, Jeffrey mentioned that his friend Roger McGuinn — the Roger McGuinn, lead singer and lead guitarist on many of The Byrds’ records — called Jeffrey and told him what a nice article I had written.
Wow. With apologies to The Mamas and The Papas, McGuinn and McGuire couldn’t get no higher . . . and neither could I.
The whole exchange probably didn’t last more than a few minutes. Those that know Brian’s history know that while gracious with fans, he isn’t particularly chatty or comfortable in meet and greet situations.
Still, the few moments I got to spend with him answered the question, “Wouldn’t it be nice . . . to meet Brian Wilson?”
It was all of that. And so much more.

These sour grapes make a unique whine

2009-11-03T11:13:00.000-08:00

Admittedly, I got a big crate of sour grapes ready to be distributed. But I don’t care. With the way the Yankees have treated the Phillies up to this point in the 2009 World Series, I am in no mood to be nice.
And if baseball must be played in November, then certainly I would like the Phillies to be one of the teams still playing. Having said that, though, I was at Game 4 of the World Series, it was so dadgummed cold that I nearly froze my patootie off, which had that happened, would have created a lot of problems for me trying to hold up my drawers.
It tends to get chilly this time of year around here. But hey, the alternative is somebody else’s team is still playing baseball in November, so I guess I can stand to do with a little less of my patootie.
Here’s what else about this World Series to date has me peeved:
— It appears to entirely be my fault. I was at Game 4 of the 2008 World Series and the Phillies scored 11 runs, won the game and eventually went on to become world champions. I apparently did not do my job as a fan this year in Game 4, and for that I apologize.
— Ballplayers, Phillies included, either need to shave or not shave. I am tired of looking at four-day facial growth. Either grow a beard or don’t grow a beard. I am surprised the baseball wives have not chimed in on this. What, I have the only wife in the world who doesn’t like to snuggle up and have her face scratched?
— Tuck in the back pocket of your baseball pants. Players sometimes keep a batting glove, or something else in that back pocket. When they pull that something out, the pocket gets turned inside out. It needs to be tucked in because it just looks stupid flapping there in the wind, especially on anybody in Yankees pinstripes.
— I am no longer interested in anything that Alex Rodriguez has to say on any topic, not even if he’s talking about Kate Hudson.
— Having said that, I will not and did not boo Derek Jeter or Mariano Rivera. They’re great players, they show a lot of class and all they do is beat you. That should be admired by all baseball fans.
And then the Phillies won Game 5 Monday night and I was less grumpy. At the time that this is written, there could be one more game, there could be two more games. The outcome will determine weather my weekend is full of wine or . . . whine.

Only 'private eyes' see Oates seminar

2009-10-26T10:13:00.000-07:00

I appreciate unique experiences, especially when they have anything to do with writing.
And that’s just what several North Penn High School music students and I, among others, got Saturday, Oct. 24, at the Lansdale Center for the Performing Arts when legendary singer-songwriter and North Wales native John Oates conducted a songwriting workshop ahead of a solo gig later the same evening at the LCPA.
He and Daryl Hall — as Hall & Oates — are one of the most successful duos in rock and roll history. In fact, I’d be hard pressed to name a duo that has had more success for such a long period of time, more than four decades now.
Oates told the would-be songwriters a lot of things that apply to writing in general: learn from people you respect; study the people you like; keep a journal; and don’t be afraid to express emotion in one’s writing.
It was a real treat to listen to Oates describe his craft in such an intimate setting. The LCPA is big on providing arts education, and Oates was gracious to share his insights with the 30 or so people who were invited to attend.
Among the additional highlights for me, though, was the inclusion of two young singer-songwriters that are big in the Philly music scene right now – Carsie Blanton and Mutlu. The Blonde Accountant and I are big fans of both and we’ve seen them both at area venues several times.
As one of the North Penn students pointed out after the seminar, it was cool to see the experienced songwriter Oates contrast and interact with the younger songwriters Carsie and Mutlu.
Who would have thought a boy from rural Illinois would one day sit down with John Oates – whose music I grew up on – and discuss writing?
That’s just too cool.

Phils win! Wake up! Or not

2009-10-20T07:56:00.000-07:00

There is this unwritten personal rule that I have subscribed to for years: I like to be the first person in the ballpark and the last one to leave.
What that means is that one never leaves a ballgame early, or to translate it further, if one cannot attend the game in person, one never goes to sleep until the last out of the game has been recorded.
To have violated that rule Monday night would have meant missing Jimmy Rollins’ two-out, bottom-of-the-ninth, dramatic double in the gap that scored Eric Bruntlett and Carlos Ruiz to give the Phillies an improbable 5-4 come-from-behind victory over the Los Angeles Dodgers to take a commanding 3-1 lead in the best-of-seven National League Championship Series.
In a similar situation last year in the NLCS between the same two teams, the Phillies’ Matt Stairs hit a two-run homer off Dodgers’ closer Jonathon Broxton to give the Phils a 7-5 victory en route to what would eventually become a World Series championship.
Like Monday night, Stairs’ blast last year happened later in the evening, after everybody but me had gone to sleep at my house. When Stairs crushed a Broxton fastball and sent it deep into the Los Angeles night in 2008, I let out a yee-ha that awakened The Blonde Accountant and the kids.
I’d say I was sorry about waking everybody up, but it was a really big home run in a really big situation and by my way of thinking, nobody should have been sleeping anyway, even if it was a school night.
A similar situation occurred Monday night. Everybody but me was asleep. Same teams, big game, big situation. And the Phillies pulled it off again! Phils win! Phils win!
Remembering that my hootin’ and hollarin’ last year awakened the neighborhood and at that moment finding nobody standing upright with which to do The Happy Dance, I was as subdued as I could be laying there in bed.
My solution this year was to start tapping furiously on The Blonde Accountant’s thigh, which in our house usually means something other than, "Hey, hon, the Phillies won a big ballgame."
Her response was something akin to, “Huh?” She stirred from her slumber as the Phillies mobbed Rollins, seeing absolutely nothing of the celebration, leaned over, turned on the nightstand lamp, and said, “Goodnight.”
I had to get up, go around to her side of the bed, and turn the light off. She had no recollection of the exchange the next morning.
But there was no doubt she was right about one thing: It was a good night.

Waiting 38 years to relive a memory

2009-10-06T09:41:00.000-07:00

As a kid I was a Pittsburgh Pirates fan. When the team beat the Baltimore Orioles in the 1971 World Series, I was the happiest kid in my central Illinois neighborhood.
But since nobody else in my part of Illinois followed the Pirates, I didn’t have anybody with which to share that happiness. So on that sunny October day in 1971 in Illinois, with the satisfaction that my team had just captured the world championship, I was reduced to walking through my neighborhood, Pirates baseball cap proudly on my head, hootin’ and hollarin’ to nobody in particular while sporting a big, stupid ear-to-ear grin.
Reflecting back on that special time in my life, my guess is that the neighbors probably wondered what the goofy Morsch kid was up to now.
Flash ahead 38 years later to Saturday night at Otto’s Brauhaus in Horsham, where I found myself sitting across the table from one Jackie Hernandez, who was a guest of the Philadelphia Athletics Historical Society based in Hatboro. I am honored to be a board member of that non-profit organization.
Jackie Hernandez was the shortstop for the 1971 World Champion Pittsburgh Pirates. The Cuban-born, light-hitting anchor of the middle of the Pirates’ defense was a teammate of my favorite players, Hall of Famers Roberto Clemente, Willie Stargell and Bill Mazeroski.
I had the opportunity to ask him about that world championship team and about my boyhood heroes. He was their teammate, he knew what they were like as players and individuals. He was there when the last out was recorded and was celebrating with his teammates at the very same time I was walking down the street in my neighborhood in Illinois, looking for somebody with which to share my own personal celebration.
Jackie Hernandez was had a front-row seat to one of my fondest boyhood memories. And I got to sit at a restaurant in Horsham Saturday night and listen to his version of my story.
How cool is that?