The Phillies will never sound the same.
I'll miss you Harry.
RIP
Showing posts with label RIP. Show all posts
Showing posts with label RIP. Show all posts
Monday, April 13, 2009
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Goodbye Paul Newman
Paul Newman has finally succumbed to his battle with cancer. Although it's been known for weeks that he was not long for this world, it still brings me great sadness to think that we can longer enjoy any new work. Aside from being a great actor, he was truly a classy human being. His work in charity speaks volumes as to the nature of his heart.
Paul Newman
RIP
1925-2008
The following is a list of movies I've seen that Paul Newman had starred in. There's not one movie on that list I didn't enjoy on some level and in every case Paul's performance was worth watching.
Cars (2006)
Road to Perdition (2002)
Nobody's Fool (1994)
The Hudsucker Proxy (1994) .
Mr. & Mrs. Bridge (1990)
The Color of Money (1986)
The Verdict (1982)
Fort Apache the Bronx (1981)
Slap Shot (1977)
The Drowning Pool (1975)
The Towering Inferno (1974)
The Sting (1973)
The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean (1972)
Sometimes a Great Notion (1971)
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969)
The Secret War of Harry Frigg (1968)
Cool Hand Luke (1967)
Hombre (1967)
Hud (1963)
The Hustler (1961)
Exodus (1960)
The Young Philadelphians (1959)
Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (1958)
Somebody Up There Likes Me (1956)
Goodbye Paul, we'll miss you.
Paul Newman
RIP
1925-2008
The following is a list of movies I've seen that Paul Newman had starred in. There's not one movie on that list I didn't enjoy on some level and in every case Paul's performance was worth watching.
Cars (2006)
Road to Perdition (2002)
Nobody's Fool (1994)
The Hudsucker Proxy (1994) .
Mr. & Mrs. Bridge (1990)
The Color of Money (1986)
The Verdict (1982)
Fort Apache the Bronx (1981)
Slap Shot (1977)
The Drowning Pool (1975)
The Towering Inferno (1974)
The Sting (1973)
The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean (1972)
Sometimes a Great Notion (1971)
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969)
The Secret War of Harry Frigg (1968)
Cool Hand Luke (1967)
Hombre (1967)
Hud (1963)
The Hustler (1961)
Exodus (1960)
The Young Philadelphians (1959)
Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (1958)
Somebody Up There Likes Me (1956)
Goodbye Paul, we'll miss you.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
I'm the Son of Sam of the goldfish world
I either have no clue as to the correct care of goldfish or experience the worst luck in goldfish health conditions. This past Saturday my wife went to go change the water and clean the tank and she found poor Whitey was floating at the top. His lifeless body caught in the filter.
R.I.P.
Whitey
2008-2008
That's now 4 fish in approximately 3 months. I am at a higher ratio than 1 fish per month. While that's no shakes to people who live in Japan or to those rough and tumble fe
llows you see on Deadliest Catch, I get the feeling that goldfish feel as if I am the angel of death. I fear the next time I go to the pet store to pick out a replacement that the fish will all cower in the back and low corner of the tank or perhaps behind the shipwreck or the bubbly diver head.
If the Fish Police ever come to arrest me then I will claim insanity and tell them that my dog is Satan and told me to do it. One look at Brutus and you'll know instantly that his gaze hypnotizes you into anything he wants you to do. I often feel myself losing control as he looks at you with puppy dog eyes. It's no wonder that I may be killing fish and doing his bidding.
Brutus can't stand sharing his attention with other pets. If you ever want to call Brutus all you have to do is start petting our other dog, Sammy and he comes running. He'll jump in bewteen you and poor Sam so that he gets all the lovin'. So, I admit, it's possible that Brutus has somehow pulled a Manchurian Candidate on me and I've been killing the goldfish with my lack of knowledge and consent.
You try looking into those eyes...and feel your eyelids getting heavy...heavier...you are getting sleepy...sleepy...
R.I.P.
Whitey
2008-2008
That's now 4 fish in approximately 3 months. I am at a higher ratio than 1 fish per month. While that's no shakes to people who live in Japan or to those rough and tumble fe
llows you see on Deadliest Catch, I get the feeling that goldfish feel as if I am the angel of death. I fear the next time I go to the pet store to pick out a replacement that the fish will all cower in the back and low corner of the tank or perhaps behind the shipwreck or the bubbly diver head.If the Fish Police ever come to arrest me then I will claim insanity and tell them that my dog is Satan and told me to do it. One look at Brutus and you'll know instantly that his gaze hypnotizes you into anything he wants you to do. I often feel myself losing control as he looks at you with puppy dog eyes. It's no wonder that I may be killing fish and doing his bidding.
Brutus can't stand sharing his attention with other pets. If you ever want to call Brutus all you have to do is start petting our other dog, Sammy and he comes running. He'll jump in bewteen you and poor Sam so that he gets all the lovin'. So, I admit, it's possible that Brutus has somehow pulled a Manchurian Candidate on me and I've been killing the goldfish with my lack of knowledge and consent.
You try looking into those eyes...and feel your eyelids getting heavy...heavier...you are getting sleepy...sleepy...
Monday, August 18, 2008
It's my blog and I'll cry if I want to
My son Jonathan is a very sensitive soul. He is very attentive to other people's need and wants. He is very loving and huggable. He is artistic and relies alot on his emotional side. All very good good traits for a boy to have and not something you necessarily can teach as much as they just seem to be born with. The unfortunate downfall is that he cries more than other boys his age. He takes teasing and name calling rather harshly. If things don't go his way he tends to break down quickly and start sobbing.
You'd think by the way I'm a cold fish nowadays when it comes to tenderness that Jonathan has picked up this trait from his mother. While his mother does have her crying fits (like any of you women- sheesh), he really does get it from me. As a boy, I was just like Jonathan when it came to crying. I would well up with tears at the drop of a hat. I'd even wallow in my own pity and hide in my room or in our closet. The darkness would make me feel secure as I'd felt sorry for myself. Perhaps this was some early manifestation of my mood disorder or perhaps you can chalk it up to being a kid and a tweener.
Somewhere around age 14 I found the control to stop crying altogether. Even if I was in pain I wouldn't tear up- I'd scream alot instead. I don't know if it's a healthy thing but for the most part even if I want to let it all out and cry I can't. In the past 24 years I think I've only had one instance of a flat out bawling.
It was when my mother was towards the end of her battle with cancer. I was working at home at the time (and living away, go figure) and there wasn't much to do. I came down for a break and sat next to my mother who was watching TV (I think it was the OJ trial!). Her liver at that point had grown so distended that it was bulging out of her stomach area and was hard as a rock. You could hear her smacking her lips audibly as she would experience dry mouth often during this time. When I sat down I reached over and held her hand as she seemed to be in a bit of distress and pain. Her hand felt so bony and she clasped my hand solidly and somehow we seemed to speak to each to other without saying anything. A flood of emotions fell over me and for once I think the grave reality of her dying hit me hard.
I always logically knew that when she got cancer that she would likely die within that year of diagnosis. For some strange reason I emotionally denied or ignored that fact. Perhaps being in my early twenties I felt somewhat invincible and untouchable. I hadn't experienced any real loss up to that point. Needless to say when I suddenly came to my senses and acknowledged her dying I was awash with grief. Holding her hand and feeling her die was the most surreal experience I've had. I pretended to go for a smoke in the garage and I lit my cigarette and didn't even get a puff beyond that point. I wept and sobbed uncontrollably. The only control I could exert was the noise level as to not alert my mother to the fact I was crying. All the cliches were present. I fell to my knees and the dam of tears burst. It was like having a seizure of uncontrollable tics and I was barely able to draw my breath in.
I haven't done that since. Even 2 weeks later at her funeral. Mind you, I was visibly upset but I think I was more disturbed at the open casket and I was fighting a 105 degree fever that day. I will also admit to getting misty eyed on occasion, but I just haven't felt the urge to cry like that again. I don't know if the loss of control that I don't like or perhaps that I've gained some perspective as I've aged. Life is good. There hasn't been too much for me to get upset about. Sure, there have been some minor bumps along the way, but nothing so far has hit me like that day has. I have a wonderful wife and two great kids, a decent job that pays alright and lots of good friends. I'm happy and I don't need to cry right now. If one of those things gets taken away, then all bets are off. But until then, I'm fine with my stoic face.
You'd think by the way I'm a cold fish nowadays when it comes to tenderness that Jonathan has picked up this trait from his mother. While his mother does have her crying fits (like any of you women- sheesh), he really does get it from me. As a boy, I was just like Jonathan when it came to crying. I would well up with tears at the drop of a hat. I'd even wallow in my own pity and hide in my room or in our closet. The darkness would make me feel secure as I'd felt sorry for myself. Perhaps this was some early manifestation of my mood disorder or perhaps you can chalk it up to being a kid and a tweener.
Somewhere around age 14 I found the control to stop crying altogether. Even if I was in pain I wouldn't tear up- I'd scream alot instead. I don't know if it's a healthy thing but for the most part even if I want to let it all out and cry I can't. In the past 24 years I think I've only had one instance of a flat out bawling.
It was when my mother was towards the end of her battle with cancer. I was working at home at the time (and living away, go figure) and there wasn't much to do. I came down for a break and sat next to my mother who was watching TV (I think it was the OJ trial!). Her liver at that point had grown so distended that it was bulging out of her stomach area and was hard as a rock. You could hear her smacking her lips audibly as she would experience dry mouth often during this time. When I sat down I reached over and held her hand as she seemed to be in a bit of distress and pain. Her hand felt so bony and she clasped my hand solidly and somehow we seemed to speak to each to other without saying anything. A flood of emotions fell over me and for once I think the grave reality of her dying hit me hard.
I always logically knew that when she got cancer that she would likely die within that year of diagnosis. For some strange reason I emotionally denied or ignored that fact. Perhaps being in my early twenties I felt somewhat invincible and untouchable. I hadn't experienced any real loss up to that point. Needless to say when I suddenly came to my senses and acknowledged her dying I was awash with grief. Holding her hand and feeling her die was the most surreal experience I've had. I pretended to go for a smoke in the garage and I lit my cigarette and didn't even get a puff beyond that point. I wept and sobbed uncontrollably. The only control I could exert was the noise level as to not alert my mother to the fact I was crying. All the cliches were present. I fell to my knees and the dam of tears burst. It was like having a seizure of uncontrollable tics and I was barely able to draw my breath in.
I haven't done that since. Even 2 weeks later at her funeral. Mind you, I was visibly upset but I think I was more disturbed at the open casket and I was fighting a 105 degree fever that day. I will also admit to getting misty eyed on occasion, but I just haven't felt the urge to cry like that again. I don't know if the loss of control that I don't like or perhaps that I've gained some perspective as I've aged. Life is good. There hasn't been too much for me to get upset about. Sure, there have been some minor bumps along the way, but nothing so far has hit me like that day has. I have a wonderful wife and two great kids, a decent job that pays alright and lots of good friends. I'm happy and I don't need to cry right now. If one of those things gets taken away, then all bets are off. But until then, I'm fine with my stoic face.
Friday, July 25, 2008
I hate poker
well....not really, but it sure has been frustrating lately when I keep getting cold cards.
I mentioned that I played poorly in a tourney last Saturday. My demise came when my AK met pocket queens and didn't improve. Last night at Lottery Larry's tournament of champions game, I had deja vu when I was short stacked and was faced with 5 limpers and I was in the small blind with jack seven suited. My hand was meaningless as there was 25% of my stack in the pot including the blinds and if I could use my short stack while it still had fold equity I could make a push and pick up a nice pot. Even if I get called by one of the limpers It's very likely I have 2 "live cards". It's doubtful I was facing a big pair as no one but the first limper would try to foray into a limped pot with a big pair. So I made it look like I had a good hand and pushed all in and the big blind, the only person that I had no reasonable read on, woke up with pocket queens and went all in himself. The others folded and even though I technically hit a full house (the board was 88833), he had a better full house and I was on the rail.
I can at least claim that my early night was due to grief. My wife called me just as the tournament started to let me know that our last goldfish, Michael, had finally succumbed to whatever ailment his two compatriots had fallen to.
RIP
Michael
2007-2008
While the fish were dying at my house, the fish seemed to be thriving at Lottery Larry's house. I am reluctant to mention hands and names as Lottery Larry has recently taken passages from my blog without permission and put it into his trip report. (he'll be hearing from my lawyers Dewey, Phuc M, Goode, & Howe) I don't wish to publicly call anyone a bad player and criticize their hands. Especially since I am no big shakes myself. I like to think I am always improving in poker, but I most certainly don't make all the right moves nor claim to be an expert. I'll just say that worst hand kept winning. Over and over and over again. Even in the low limit cash game I played in afterwards, I had my aces cracked by 67 with a CAPPED PREFLOP POT! (in other words, the bets were raised and reraised 4 times- the most allowed.)
I can't complain all that much, I had fun joking around and I didn't lose very much money. The best line of the night came from the razz specialist, Dan. A player came over to the cash game from the tourney and started complaining that he was knocked out on the bubble. He started playing alot of crappy hands like 10 4 off suit and was winning big pots. He then claimed in defense of his bad play-
"I was a two-thirds favorite to win that hand on the bubble and I lost, so why should I play good hands if that doesn't seem to work?"
Dan quickly remarked, "Because two out of three times you aren't going out on the bubble?"
ahhh...nerd humor...
I mentioned that I played poorly in a tourney last Saturday. My demise came when my AK met pocket queens and didn't improve. Last night at Lottery Larry's tournament of champions game, I had deja vu when I was short stacked and was faced with 5 limpers and I was in the small blind with jack seven suited. My hand was meaningless as there was 25% of my stack in the pot including the blinds and if I could use my short stack while it still had fold equity I could make a push and pick up a nice pot. Even if I get called by one of the limpers It's very likely I have 2 "live cards". It's doubtful I was facing a big pair as no one but the first limper would try to foray into a limped pot with a big pair. So I made it look like I had a good hand and pushed all in and the big blind, the only person that I had no reasonable read on, woke up with pocket queens and went all in himself. The others folded and even though I technically hit a full house (the board was 88833), he had a better full house and I was on the rail.
I can at least claim that my early night was due to grief. My wife called me just as the tournament started to let me know that our last goldfish, Michael, had finally succumbed to whatever ailment his two compatriots had fallen to.
RIP
Michael
2007-2008
While the fish were dying at my house, the fish seemed to be thriving at Lottery Larry's house. I am reluctant to mention hands and names as Lottery Larry has recently taken passages from my blog without permission and put it into his trip report. (he'll be hearing from my lawyers Dewey, Phuc M, Goode, & Howe) I don't wish to publicly call anyone a bad player and criticize their hands. Especially since I am no big shakes myself. I like to think I am always improving in poker, but I most certainly don't make all the right moves nor claim to be an expert. I'll just say that worst hand kept winning. Over and over and over again. Even in the low limit cash game I played in afterwards, I had my aces cracked by 67 with a CAPPED PREFLOP POT! (in other words, the bets were raised and reraised 4 times- the most allowed.)
I can't complain all that much, I had fun joking around and I didn't lose very much money. The best line of the night came from the razz specialist, Dan. A player came over to the cash game from the tourney and started complaining that he was knocked out on the bubble. He started playing alot of crappy hands like 10 4 off suit and was winning big pots. He then claimed in defense of his bad play-
"I was a two-thirds favorite to win that hand on the bubble and I lost, so why should I play good hands if that doesn't seem to work?"
Dan quickly remarked, "Because two out of three times you aren't going out on the bubble?"
ahhh...nerd humor...
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
The fish are dropping like flies!!
RIP Leo
2007-2008
Yet another dead fish in the tank this morning. I didn't say anything to kids this time as I needed to drop them off at camp and get to work. My lack of being up front with the news of their pet's passing was based solely on their previous over the top reaction to the death of their first fish. I would have been at least a half hour late if I informed them of Leo's demise. But really, I do think Leo would have wanted it that way. I am the main fish food dispenser after all, so one can logically assume that he did like me. Thus, I'm positive he wouldn't want me to be late for work on his account. The least I can do is respect the wishes of a dead fish. Besides, Lynn can break it to them when she picks them up.
That leaves Michael as the sole survivor of the upstairs tank. We have a Betta named Fabio in a small bowl downstairs. You can't put the Bettas in with the goldfish as they will continue to attack them until they are dead. Had I known Leo was so close to meet his maker I would have put him in the bowl with Fabio. That way he could have gone out with some panache and style. Plus it would entertain poor Fabio who seems rather bored with his existence lately.
I'm debating whether or not to get more fish. If the kids have another wailing fest like they did last time I don't think I could handle any more pet deaths. The little hypocrites hardly ever fed the fish or merely gaze at them in their tank very often. I think we should give them fish sticks for dinner as we break the news to them so the event would be compete with irony.
2007-2008
Yet another dead fish in the tank this morning. I didn't say anything to kids this time as I needed to drop them off at camp and get to work. My lack of being up front with the news of their pet's passing was based solely on their previous over the top reaction to the death of their first fish. I would have been at least a half hour late if I informed them of Leo's demise. But really, I do think Leo would have wanted it that way. I am the main fish food dispenser after all, so one can logically assume that he did like me. Thus, I'm positive he wouldn't want me to be late for work on his account. The least I can do is respect the wishes of a dead fish. Besides, Lynn can break it to them when she picks them up.
That leaves Michael as the sole survivor of the upstairs tank. We have a Betta named Fabio in a small bowl downstairs. You can't put the Bettas in with the goldfish as they will continue to attack them until they are dead. Had I known Leo was so close to meet his maker I would have put him in the bowl with Fabio. That way he could have gone out with some panache and style. Plus it would entertain poor Fabio who seems rather bored with his existence lately.
I'm debating whether or not to get more fish. If the kids have another wailing fest like they did last time I don't think I could handle any more pet deaths. The little hypocrites hardly ever fed the fish or merely gaze at them in their tank very often. I think we should give them fish sticks for dinner as we break the news to them so the event would be compete with irony.
Monday, June 30, 2008
I see dead people
In honor of George Carlin's passing, NBC reran the very first episode of Saturday Night Live this past weekend. I watched most of it and I was astounded to see how many people on the show that are now no longer with us. Sure it's been 33 years, but here is a list of people of the top of my head on that show who are now dead.
Michael O'Donohue-originally a Not Ready for Prime Time player (for 2 weeks) and eventually a head writer, he opened the show with Belushi and Chase.
John Belushi- the first big death of the original cast. I was surprised at how low key he was in the 1st episode.
George Carlin- he was the host, yet he didn't appear in any sketches that I saw. He did parts of his stand up including on how baseball and football differ. I had his stand up on cassette tape back in high school and I would listen to it often.
Jim Henson- While he was only on for a year Jim Henson and his Muppets (no Kermit or Fozzie tho) were a regular feature of the show. I really miss Jim and his imagination and craft.
Gilda Radner- one of the funniest comedians, male or female there was.
Billy Preston- he was a musical guest, the man played with Beatles and was a legend all on his own.
Andy Kaufman- this warped genius made his TV debut with his Mighty Mouse routine, part of me thinks he's still alive and laughing at us.
Interesting note- George Carlin was 38 (my age) when he hosted the show---AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!
Michael O'Donohue-originally a Not Ready for Prime Time player (for 2 weeks) and eventually a head writer, he opened the show with Belushi and Chase.
John Belushi- the first big death of the original cast. I was surprised at how low key he was in the 1st episode.
George Carlin- he was the host, yet he didn't appear in any sketches that I saw. He did parts of his stand up including on how baseball and football differ. I had his stand up on cassette tape back in high school and I would listen to it often.
Jim Henson- While he was only on for a year Jim Henson and his Muppets (no Kermit or Fozzie tho) were a regular feature of the show. I really miss Jim and his imagination and craft.
Gilda Radner- one of the funniest comedians, male or female there was.
Billy Preston- he was a musical guest, the man played with Beatles and was a legend all on his own.
Andy Kaufman- this warped genius made his TV debut with his Mighty Mouse routine, part of me thinks he's still alive and laughing at us.
Interesting note- George Carlin was 38 (my age) when he hosted the show---AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!
Friday, June 27, 2008
RIP Oogley Googley
My children have just experienced their first pet death. We have had three gold fish since September and last night I noticed that the one that had bulging eyes looked white and was limp and caught in the filter. His cause of death is unknown but hey, it's a fish and I'm not doing an autopsy on the way to the toilet. My nonchalance attitude about Oogley Googley's demise was quite the opposite reaction that my children had.
The kids were brushing their teeth before bed and I informed Lynn as to the dead fish. She grabbed the net and scooped him into a container and we decided to let the kids say goodbye before flushing him away to his final watery grave.
"Jonathan and Gabriel" Lynn said as she walked into the bathroom with the corpse, "I have some bad news, Oogley Googley has died." (Try saying that with a straight face!!)
Immediately both kids started bawling and howling as if they were told I was dead or all of their Pokemon cards burned up in a freak fire. Tears streamed down their faces as they loudly lamented the news of his death. While I wasn't expecting them to be happy about the news, I was somewhat shocked about how hard they took it. Their wails were reminiscent of Muslim women at funerals in the middle east. They were bawling so loudly that it became comical to my wife and I and I even had to leave the room to laugh as Lynn hugged them close so she could smile without them seeing. I know that sounds insensitive but the complete overreaction was a sight to behold. It was just a fish after all.
Nevertheless, we consoled them as best as we could as toothpaste dribbled out of their crying mouths. Jonathan informed us that he may want to stay home the next day so he could grieve. I would've thought it was good angle shoot but his concern was genuine so I didn't answer him right away. They seemed fine this morning and they went to camp seemingly unaffected.
They expressed their wishes that if we were to get another fish that we would honor him and name him Oogley Googley II. Death hits us all differently. In some ways having fish is a good growth tool as children can learn about mortality without having true tragedy.
So, thanks for brightening our lives a little bit Oogley Googley, it was nice knowin' ya!
Oogley Googley
2007-2008
RIP
The kids were brushing their teeth before bed and I informed Lynn as to the dead fish. She grabbed the net and scooped him into a container and we decided to let the kids say goodbye before flushing him away to his final watery grave.
"Jonathan and Gabriel" Lynn said as she walked into the bathroom with the corpse, "I have some bad news, Oogley Googley has died." (Try saying that with a straight face!!)
Immediately both kids started bawling and howling as if they were told I was dead or all of their Pokemon cards burned up in a freak fire. Tears streamed down their faces as they loudly lamented the news of his death. While I wasn't expecting them to be happy about the news, I was somewhat shocked about how hard they took it. Their wails were reminiscent of Muslim women at funerals in the middle east. They were bawling so loudly that it became comical to my wife and I and I even had to leave the room to laugh as Lynn hugged them close so she could smile without them seeing. I know that sounds insensitive but the complete overreaction was a sight to behold. It was just a fish after all.
Nevertheless, we consoled them as best as we could as toothpaste dribbled out of their crying mouths. Jonathan informed us that he may want to stay home the next day so he could grieve. I would've thought it was good angle shoot but his concern was genuine so I didn't answer him right away. They seemed fine this morning and they went to camp seemingly unaffected.
They expressed their wishes that if we were to get another fish that we would honor him and name him Oogley Googley II. Death hits us all differently. In some ways having fish is a good growth tool as children can learn about mortality without having true tragedy.
So, thanks for brightening our lives a little bit Oogley Googley, it was nice knowin' ya!
Oogley Googley
2007-2008
RIP
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
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