Cornucopia

Thanks for the feedback on my "Things I'm Thankful For" list. (Notice that I did not include "people who remind you not to end sentences with a preposition".) Some of the suggestions were excellent, such as "peanut butter", "Blue Öyster Cult", and "Mythbusters". Others, well...not so much. I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I personally cannot get too excited about "processed lunchmeat", "designer iPod cases", or "guys with Tebow tattoos". But I'm glad to know that nearly everyone seems to be thankful about something.

The feedback that surprised me the most, though, was the fact that no one thought "Cornucopiazadora" was funny. I could barely type that one, I was cracking up so badly. Perhaps the humor missed the target because cornucopias are kinda stupid to begin with...and I'll grant you that. I mean, what's the point of having a basket that tapers to where 50% of its length is either useless or simply a place where small fruits go to become forever entrapped? Seems like a silly way to represent the concept of "plenty" -- seems like a wide-bottom container would convey the idea more effectively.

Or perhaps the problem was that Pia Zadora isn't exactly a household name these days. So for those who are unfamiliar with the performer, I offer this:


Anyway, I'd love to share more about the Thanksgiving weekend, but it's going to have to wait. Many other obligations assert themselves. My only update will be to say that my running seems to be proceeding without new injuries, but continues to be disappointingly slow. I'll provide a deeper analysis later, but for now will just say that my next attempt at a remedy involves radically increasing caffeine levels in my bloodstream. I'll let you know how that works out. In the meantime, may your fruit baskets (however oddly shaped) continue to overflow, my friends. Have a great day!

Thanksgiving

Ah, it's time once again to celebrate our blessings by engaging in unrestrained consumption, sprinkled lightly with introspection and garnished with pie. It's time to be with loved ones, watch football, and listen to stories of how the pilgrims survived the homicidal rampages of the Great Pumpkin, etc.

Seriously, either things were REALLY crappy in England, or these folks were just plain crazy to risk a long and perilous ocean voyage to a place where locals might be hostile, and conditions may or may not allow their survival. They must've thought the potential benefits outweighed the costs. They must've believed that they could eventually transform the local environment/culture into something resembling their homeland, and could spread their language among the natives so they wouldn't have to learn new ways. In other words, they were setting an example for future Mexicans.

As for my own celebration of Thanksgiving, well, there's not much to tell. Therefore, I was going to offer a graphical quiz combining images from today with Thanksgiving holiday transitions, but I couldn't find the appropriate graphics (with the exception of the one shown above.) I was going for mashups like "Pumpkin Pilotes", "the Pilgrim Reaper", and "Cornucopiazadora", but those are tougher to illustrate than you might imagine.

Instead, I think I'll get serious for a moment and make a list of the top ten things I'm thankful for, other than the standard litany. It's obvious that I'm thankful for my family, my friends, my stunning good looks, and my comfortable running shoes. I would hope that everyone can also figure out that I'm grateful for my job, my swim team, my extensive stash of chocolate-coated foodstuffs, and my awesome guitar-playing skills. So, let's just assume that I'm thankful for all the normal things, and I'll provide a short list of things that may not be on everyone's list. In addition to the standard items, I am hugely thankful for:

• Not being rich. I'm glad I don't have to deal with the feelings of guilt over not paying my fair share of taxes.


• Debit cards with overdraft protection


• Chipotle


• Netflix


• Ongoing efforts to commercialize spaceflight


• Diagnostic reasoning


• William Shatner


• BodyGlide


• Swim goggles (but not the anti-fog coating that doesn't work worth beans)


• Anyone who has ever honorably served in the US Military


• Antiperspirant deodorant


• Scientists

There's more of course. But I'll save that for later. (By the way, the picture at the top is "Aunt Mayflower". Happy Thanksgiving!

Happy Birthday, Compton!

Today is my dad's 92nd birthday. If you happen to see him today, please give him a high five and a hug, OK? Thanks.

Since his birthday usually occurs during the same week as Thanksgiving, I tend to become reflective, especially since I am rarely able to spend the day with him doing typical birthday stuff, like wearing pointed hats, eating cake and ice cream, or smashing piñatas, etc. As regular readers know, I rarely engage my brain at all, and on those infrequent occasions when I DO think, it tends to be about topics such as why the Federation had such an incompetent Reverse Engineering Division -- I mean even after Kirk stole a Romulan cloaking device by making out with a pointy-eared chick, and then later actually owned an entirely functional Bird of Prey, it seems like Picard's Enterprise should've had cloaking technology built in. Oh, I suppose it's conceivable that it turned out to be hideously expensive, requiring trilithium crystals or something. Or perhaps it involved some ultra-complex quantum physics principle that required a Daystrom-level intelligence to understand, but Daystrom was unavailable because M5 had already made him go cuckoo bananas.

Hmm. I wonder if Daystrom had any kids? And if so, did they follow him into his chosen profession? My dad was an engineer...but none of his children went into that field--although both my brother and I ended up working at Boeing (as my dad had) for a brief period. Anyway, I digress. I was talking about how I hope my father has a wonderful and happy birthday today.

It's a little weird to think that he has thus far outlived my mother by 44 years...longer than she was alive altogether. And he's still a pretty robust fellow who gets around reasonably well, though he struggles with short-term memory and substantial hearing loss. I'm not sure what he'll do for fun on his birthday, but it probably won't involve bungee jumping or martial arts.

As for being reflective about the proximity of my dad's birthday to Thanksgiving, I'd like to take a moment and list just a few of the things my dad has done that I'm thankful for.

• First and foremost, he raised and supported his kids, put us through school, and was a key player in the development of our values and philosophies.


• He handled being a single parent without complaint, and did an amazing job juggling work, home life, and a zillion parental responsibilities...like attending band concerts, swim meets, and Boy Scout campouts.


• By letting me take some of our home movies with his 8mm film camera, he sparked my lifelong love of video and visual communication.


• As an engineer, he subscribed to Popular Science magazine, had a drafting table in our basement, where he proudly displayed his old IBM "Think" sign. These things probably contributed greatly to my fascination with technology and innovation.


• From his own pursuit of the American Dream, as well as his patriotism during WWII and afterwards, he helped inspire my own enduring love and admiration for this country and for the principles upon which it was founded.


• My dad has seen amazing changes in the world. Beginning about a decade ago, he began working with me to create his own autobiography. By documenting his life's story and supplementing it with tons of information about family history and genealogy, he has established a wonderful legacy to help future Heggy generations understand the lives of their ancestors.


• He has never stopped loving his kids, or making it clear that he appreciates our continued presence in his life.

And of course, there are the genetic components I appreciate as well--the general tendency toward excellent health, the sense of humor, the matinee-idol good looks, and of course, the massive intellect. And though it obviously skipped a generation in my case, let's not forget the musical talent my son possesses. (OK, perhaps it isn't clear which components may have been contributed from my mom's side of the family, but the bottom line is that I'm pleased with the DNA I received from both of them. Well, except for the crappy vision, perhaps...they might've done a little better in that department.)

So in summary: Thanks, Dad! May you continue to live long and prosper. Have a great birthday!

A New Hope

You get bonus points if you looked at the title of this post and assumed I'd be talking about Star Wars, Episode 4. I'm not going to do that, but I'll certainly acknowledge the similarity in titles.

What I want to talk about is running. (Yes, I know that I devote an inordinate amount of space to a sport that's not even in my favorite 25 athletic activities. Swimming is Number 1, of course, but I hardly ever talk about that. Nor do I devote much time to unicycling, Tramplepit*, or caber tossing...all of which outrank running by a wide margin. I explain this oddity by pointing out that people typically think most about the things that are most challenging for them. Nerds think about getting dates, Tebow thinks about completing passes, and Occupy protestors think about how hard it is to walk around when your head is so firmly wedged up your...well, never mind—You get the idea. Running does not come easy to me, so therefore it becomes a topic of interest.)

As a wise philosopher once said, "Doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results is insanity." (I think it was John Matrix, or maybe Doogie Howser.) Since my "rest for 6 days and then run long" program has been less than effective, I've decided to switch to a "run short, but frequently" plan. So far, I've been able to run at least two miles on four of the last five days. It hurts, of course -- my left shin and right hamstring are issuing various complaints -- but I remain optimistic that there is a measurable chance of achieving some sort of progress. My buddy Kim has issued a challenge of running a marathon next spring, so that would be my "pie in the sky" goal. More realistic goals would include losing some weight, becoming more fit, and getting to the point where I can look at my running shoes without having an anxiety seizure.

Anyway, this week is already my highest mileage week in many a moon. I probably only have to double it to get to where I need to be to start training for a marathon. My brother suggested that I get a coach to help me with my form. My initial reaction was to say "They shoot horses, don't they?"** But then as I thought about it, I realized he may have a point. Another option would be to videotape myself and apply my own coaching analytics to the problem. Of course, it could be that my stride anomalies are structural, and I'd have to go back in time and choose different parents to correct them. Or it could be that a solution would require strict discipline (ie, stretching, core/balance work, nutrition, etc) that would cause unbearable discomfort to my inner couch potato. But then again, it could be that some feedback and minor technique corrections could lift me out my metaphorical quicksand and propel me down the autobahn of achievement. I shall keep you posted.

In the meantime, I also need to provide the answer to yesterday's puzzle.



It's "Ro". Charro, Zorro, Murrow, and Darrow.

Charro is one of those clever performers who made a career by capitalizing on the universal appeal of unmitigated bimbosity. Most people of my generation are familiar with her jiggling and giggling act, but far fewer know that she is a moderately competent guitarist as well.

Next to her is El Zorro, which is Spanish for "The Fox". Considering the mask, I'd say his motif is more along the lines of a raccoon, or with the all-black outfit perhaps a raven or something...but if he wants to name himself after a red, fuzzy-tailed mouse-eater, I won't object. Anyway, the fellow pictured is the actor Guy Williams from the 1960s Disney series, which was a pretty entertaining show. Williams was not the first to play the role--that would be Douglas Fairbanks Sr. way back in 1920--but Williams did a great job. Of course, he's probably even more well known for being the idiot who couldn't figure out that if he just killed Dr. Smith, the Robinsons would no longer be "lost in space". And is it just a coincidence that "Robinson" also has the "ro" letters, as does the real star of the show, the Robot? I think not.

The fellow in front of the CBS microphone is the respected journalist Edward R. Murrow. He was popular in an era where reporters smoked on the air and were far more careful in trying to cover up the fact that they were liberal shills for labor unions and big government. Personally, I think he's kinda creepy, but the history books make him sound cooler than Huntley, Brinkley, and Cronkite combined.

And finally we have the esteemed barrister, Clarence Darrow. He was sort of the Johnny Cochran of his day, and achieved his largest fame for defending John T. Scopes in the famous "Monkey Trial" of 1925. Mr. Scope was a schoolteacher who made the grievous error of attempting to educate Tennessee students about the theory of evolution. Thankfully, Scopes was arrested and burned at the stake, and then stoned to death.

No wait, that's not quite right; I got confused there for a minute. Sorry. Darrow defended him and the punishment included some jail time and a fine, but I'm pretty sure that both Scopes and Darrow lived to expound upon their crazy theories to anyone who would listen. If I remember correctly, the theory of evolution eventually faded away, and all the monkeys are free to go about their business without being blamed for humanity.

No, I'm not familiar with a physician named "Zaius". Why do you ask?

Anyway, some guy wrote a play to dramatize the monkey trial, changed the names to avoid being sued, and eventually sold the movie rights. The movie was called "Inherit the Wind", and starred Spencer Tracy as Henry Drummond, the lawyer character who was based on Mr. Darrow. So to bring us full circle and earn genius points for the people who knew the answer, Rocky and Bullwinkle featured a segment about the classic Hemmingway story "Old Man and the Sea", which was made into a movie starring, you guessed it, Spencer Tracy. Of course, in the moose and squirrel show, Boris Badenov played the part, and claimed that his name was "Spencer Traceback." So if you saw Darrow's picture in our puzzle and immediately thought of Spencer Traceback, you certainly deserve your reputation as a formidable intellect.

And with that much brainpower to unleash upon the world, you surely have some good advice for me about how to become a better runner, right? If so, please let me know...and have a great day!

Baseball

Oops, I totally forgot to print the answer to the last trivia picture puzzle. Probably not a big deal, because everybody who responded had figured this one out with no trouble at all. Still, it's part of my purview as primary puzzler to publicly provide publication of the point of the puzzle.

It's "baseball".



Obviously, the first frame is Mickey Mantle. The second one was the only one I thought might cause trouble, but apparently enough people are familiar with leather goods and Led Zeppelin guitarists to deduce that we were going for Satchel Paige. Barry Bonds is another gimme, frankly, so is Ty Cobb. Still, I hope the graphics were amusing, and the thoughts of Next Year provided some excitement and support for our beloved Rockies.

We'll be getting more and more into holiday topics in the coming days. But for now, here's another one that might take some folks back to before they were born. What's the common thread here?



Bonus points if you can name the actor in the 2nd frame, and double-extra bonus points if you can name the Rocky & Bullwinkle character whose name was a play on the actor that played the movie guy who was based on the dude in the last frame. Make sense? Cool. Good luck, and have a great day!

Top Ten

What would YOU choose as the Top Ten Most Annoying Things About the Holidays?

Let's set some ground rules, OK? We shouldn't include things that EVERYONE universally hates, like that stupid song about giving your girlfriend a boatload of useless crap like maids a-milking and partridges in pear trees. The only good partridges in the history of Earth were Shirley Jones and Susan Dey. (OK, if you're a chick or a gay guy, maybe I'd allow for David Cassidy to be considered, too. But no Bonaduces under any circumstances. Sorry.)

I guess I wouldn't mind receiving five golden rings, as long as they weren't the kind that make you turn into Gollum. I mean, I wouldn't mind being all hairless and creepy (since I'm pretty much there already), but I'd be bummed if I became an inarticulate mumbler. With Tanner in the family, we've already got one of those.

Anyway, I might decide to revisit the list as we become more deeply immersed in Hungry Hungry Hippo and Jenga ads...or if Obama puts on a Santa suit to symbolize his willingness to hand out presents without giving credit to the elves who actually produced the stuff he's handing out to others. But for now, I'll begin with the following items that always annoy me at this time of year:

• Most pumpkin pie recipes do not use nearly enough chocolate chips.


• Despite claims on the packaging, those @#$!% compact fluorescent light bulbs don't last any longer than incandescents. (OK, I'll admit this has nothing to do with the holidays, but I just had another one of the stupid things burn out, and it makes me angry.)


• People look at me funny for putting peanut butter on my leftover turkey sandwiches. Hey, Einstein put peanut butter on his leftovers and nobody gave him any grief.


• The country's only two socially acceptable porch-climbing/doorbell-ringing activities are too closely adjacent. Since the holidays are all melting together anyway, why don't we just combine Christmas Caroling with Trick-or-Treating? If you want that Peanut Butter Cup, you're gonna have to belt out "Sleigh Ride" or something.


• NORAD seems to be able to reliably track a minivan-sized sleigh across the entire planet...but can't ever find the dudes who create those gigantic crop circles all over the place. I smell a massive coverup.


• OK, this is probably a year-round complaint -- not limited to holidays at all -- but I positively HATE that impenetrable plastic stuff they mold around computer peripherals and other toys. Freddie Kruger is the only guy I know who doesn't have a problem opening packages these days.


• Christmas has been around for over 2000 years now. How come no one has invented any kind of nog other than "egg"? There's pomegranate soda, for goodness sakes; shouldn't there at least be "cola nog" or "chocolate nog"?


• You can see "Frosty the Snowman" on 6 different networks at a dozen different times. But it's almost impossible to find a broadcast of "Santa Claus Conquers the Martians." That ain't right.


• Those guys ringing the bells in front of the store are always playing the same song. Ding ding ding. Yawn. C'mon, Dudes, would it kill ya to learn "Smoke on the Water", or "Inna Gadda Da Vida"?


• A Will Farrell movie has become a holiday tradition. Could there possibly be a clearer sign of the Apocalypse?


• Kids today have no idea why it's funny to say "Oh yeah, man, I played with those dudes" when someone mentions Santa Claus.


• There are carols sung by barking dogs, delinquent chipmunks, and guys who lost grandmothers in tragic reindeer accidents...but there is no Pink Floyd Christmas album!


• I'm a really good boy every year, and yet Santa has never brought me Dorothy Hamill.

Don't get me wrong, though. In general, I love the holiday season. Everybody's in the mood for peace on Earth and fudge, we all get a few days off from work, and the economy gets a bump from everybody buying TV sets and air rifles. And the occasional blanket of snow does make the world sparkle for a few days. It's a delightful time of the year, and I'm in a good mood. Next week, I'll counter the somewhat negative tone of this post by sharing a list of some of the things for which I am most thankful. In the meantime, please consider modifying your pie recipes, and have a great day!

22

My son Tanner was born on November 15th, 1989, which means he's 22 years old today. Wow. Seems like just yesterday he was lying in the crib, totally unable to spell antidisestablishmentarianism or even sink a free throw. But he's an adult now, living on his own in Seattle, playing and recording music, and responsibly handling his relationships with dozens of starry-eyed groupies.

I'm sure you expect me to now go into a weepy nostalgia piece about what it was like the night he was born, or about all the fabulous memories I have of mentoring him with my Ward Cleaver-like parenting skills. You probably expect sentimental meandering about how he used to sit on my knee while we'd discuss the philosophies of L. Ron Hubbard and Erich von Daniken. Ah yes...many were the times I would remind him that extraordinary claims require extraordinary proof.

OK, maybe that wasn't me; it was actually Bill Nye the Science Guy. And being pretty much tone deaf myself, I can't take credit for his musical talent, either. But I'm sure that there were some juicy tidbits of knowledge I must've imparted to him over the years. After all, he can recite movie lines from memory -- like "My name is Inigo Montoya. Luke I am your father." And he knows that Tom Petty is the musical equivalent of cod liver oil.

OK, I guess everybody knows that. But seriously, I MUST have taught him something. Not money; he can't balance a checkbook. And not swimming; his 500 time is over 10 minutes. And not history; he probably can't tell the difference between Jimmy Carter and Adolph Hitler.

OK, I'll admit -- that's a tough one. How about "he can't tell the difference between Winston Churchill and Winston Zeddemore"? Yeah, that'll work.

He is pretty good with technology; he definitely knows the difference between Steve Jobs and Steve Buscemi, for example. But I guess he probably got that off the Internet. Hmm, I wonder if there is anything at all that I taught the boy in all those 22 years?

I guess I'll have to ask him. I do know that he's a smart fellow, and that he's kind and polite and that he cares about other people. Probably his mom's fault, but I'll take credit for it regardless.

Anyway, if you see the kid today, be sure to wish him a happy birthday. And have a great day yourself!

Precognition

Usually when I practice my guitar, I stick with the classics...like Stairway to Heaven, Smells Like Teen Spirit, and 25 or 6 to 4. I can play about 2 bars of each of those songs, so I just repeat them over and over until I'm certain the neighbors are sufficiently annoyed.

For some reason, though, the last time I picked up my "axe", I started playing the opening chords to "Eye of the Tiger". I hadn't thought about that song in years. And though it isn't part of my usual repertoire, I didn't think anything of it at the time. I just played the chords and pondered the question of why Mr. T is so more popular than Sylvester Stallone these days.

But the next morning, Mike Casey (a DJ on 99.5 The Mountain) did a "Resurrection Jukebox" segment on the band Survivor, who recorded "Eye of the Tiger" for Rocky III. The fascinating trivia he threw out there was that the singer is the same guy who did the vocals for the "Real Men of Genius" Budweiser ads a while back, which I thought was pretty cool. But what really struck me was the fact that I had essentially predicted the segment via my six-string strumming mere hours before.

Does this mean I'm psychic? Hmm.

Someone had once suggested that I was similar to the guy on the TV show "Psych"--which at the time I interpreted as a comment on my lack of respect for authority figures or on my tendency to jump to conclusions based on very little evidence. (Or perhaps it was a suggestion that I have a strained and uncomfortable relationship with my father, or that I make annoying and inappropriate comments in the middle of serious conversations. I'm not sure.) But I can see now that the suggestion was implying that I truly have a gift, and that my undeniable clairvoyance is something to be cherished, nurtured, and commercialized.

Want another example? OK. My brother invited me to go see "The Three Musketeers" with him last night. I had this feeling that the movie would be silly, overblown, and unnecessary, and that despite it being in 3D, I'd still prefer the Gene Kelly version.

My psychic powers did not fail me. It was a silly movie.

But after nailing that one, and then experiencing the Eye of the Tiger thing, I'm pretty well convinced that I am very special indeed. Perhaps I'll retool this column to become a clearinghouse for sharing advance knowledge of future events. My first public predictions are:

• Within 5 years, it will no longer be required to add an "X" or "Z" to every product name to make it seem cool and hip.


• A large number of congressmen who consistently vote for more taxes and additional regulation will lose their jobs next November.


• People will finally wake up and realize that U2 is actually a crappy band, and that Bono is the love child of Harvey Keitel and Rosie O'Donnell.


• The Colorado Rockies will win more games than the Broncos in 2012.

But back to my movie review. Despite it's silliness, I actually enjoyed The Three Musketeers. It is the first cinematic version of the tale to have a Lady DeWinter actress who is actually believable as someone who could use her wiles to charm Athos. [Side note: I didn't know that Milla Jovovich could speak English with such a good American accent. In contrast, the rest of the cast couldn't quite figure out whether their accents were British, Hispanic, Laid Back California Surfer Dude, or what. But that's OK. The movie takes place in Europe, and everybody there talks funny.]

Oh sure, there is over-the-top stupidity, like having dueling Zeppelins (and not the good "Led" kind, either), stealing plot lines from "A Fistful of Dollars", and having the guards conveniently fail to notice that a half dozen of their buddies had been slaughtered on the roof near a pile of discarded women's clothing. But some of the action is enjoyable, and the comic subplot of the King wanting to become Leonardo DiCaprio provided moments of minor amusement, as well.

I've always wanted to see musketeers actually use muskets, but wasn't too surprised to be disappointed again. And it's always troublesome to see Milla play a bad guy, since she's so obviously pure and good and lacking character flaws of any kind. But the musketeer guys were passably charismatic, and the Cardinal and his gang appropriately oily and evil...so it was possible to remain entertained despite the fact that I was up long past my normal bedtime.

I'm not too stoked about going back to those theaters, though. It seemed like it took forever to slog through the repeated commercials prior to the start of the film (which was about 15 minutes after the published start time...Grrr!). And the only preview that even began to capture my attention was for "John Carter", even though it looked absolutely terrible. (I loved the books, and have always wondered when they would make a good movie version of the story. Other attempts have failed. I don't expect this one to be any better, but I'll need to learn more before making a final viewing decision.) So, either the upcoming crop of movies is really bad, trailers are becoming indistinguishable, or I'm just not as into the whole moviegoing experience as I once was. Time will tell, I guess. But right now, Netflix seems like a far more reasonable option than spending hours in a theater that I don't control.

I'll explain the individual panels from yesterday's "Baseball" graphic later. Until then, please ponder why the French feel it's necessary to scatter unnecessary apostrophes and silent letters all over the place. (Seriously, why not just spell the dude's name as Dartanyan? C'mon.) If you have an answer, let me know. Otherwise, enjoy the fact that sword duels are no longer commonplace, and have a great day!

Memories

My brother and I were talking about what sorts of oddball things we remembered from our youth...you know, things like 5th-grade girlfriend's phone numbers, Jr. High locker combinations, and characters from long-unsyndicated TV shows. And for some reason, that sparked this:



The question is "What sport are we talking about?" (Each panel represents a hall-of-fame level name. Should be easy.)

Good luck, and have a great day!

Joe Frazier

I have no idea who the Heavyweight Champion of boxing is right now.

It used to be that everyone in the world knew who it was, and you could count on spirited water cooler conversations preceding and following each and every championship fight. I'm not sure what happened; it might've been that we've become more civilized and no longer derive thrills from watching people inflict brain damage upon each other. Or it might be that people lost interest after Ali's articulate showmanship gave way to the utter vapidity of Leon Sphinx. Perhaps boxing banter in the office has been suppressed by the fact that there are now so many chicks in the workforce. Or maybe it's because we all own George Foreman grills, and that's good enough. I don't know.

But I do know that everyone of my generation watched Ali and Frazier whale on each other. And the phrase "Thrilla in Manilla" might be the most recognizable sports event nickname of all time. And I'll never forget Ali's epic poem about the fight:

After I whup Joe Frazier
And he don't hear the bell,
I'm gonna jump over the rope
And whup Howard Cosell.

Anyway, the thing I most remember about Joe Frazier is his swimming. I always wondered what the heck he was thinking when he entered that competition. After all, there were other events to choose from, most of which did not involve a high risk of drowning. But I'll say this for him -- he fought the water nearly as energetically as he fought his opponents within the ring throughout his career. Anyway, I hope that Mr. Frazier's afterlife isn't as dominated by Ali clips as his TV obituaries were. I hope he finds peace...and a good swimming instructor.

And if it turns out that you, gentle reader, are as much in need of swimming help as Mr. Frazier was, well...let's talk, OK?

And let me know if you have any tales you'd like to share about competing in sports that were, um, shall we say -- outside of your comfort zone. One example might be my own misguided attempts to participate in yoga—They're still trying to repair the dents in the gym floor where I toppled over as my balance evaporated. Another might be the well-known exploits of Vinko Bogataj. (And no, the rumor that he became the Trololo guy are simply not true.)

In the meantime, hold your streamline, and have a great day!

Addendum: I forgot to outline the various components of the "Ben" graphic from the other day. I shall do so briefly:



The couple on the left is pre-surgery Michael Jackson and his pet rat, Ben. In one of the more bizarre happenings in rock music history, Mr. Jackson actually had a huge hit with his love song about his intimate relationship with this disgusting rodent. It was commissioned as the theme song for a horror flick in which a psychopath used an army of trained vermin to eliminate his enemies; but I am at a loss how to explain the progression from scary movie track to top-40 tune involving a man-mouse love affair between a plague carrier and afro-headed youth. Ew.

It's creepy, but I guess there's nothing I can do about it. Anyway, the second fellow falls on the complete opposite side of the morality spectrum -- he's the heroic "clobberin' time" powerhouse from the Fantastic Four, Mr. Ben Grimm. He's not only a good guy through and through, but he's also pretty funny and entertaining. He might be my favorite Ben or all time. (Sorry, Mr. Affleck.)

Next we have Ben Matlock and Ben Cartwright; two crusty old guys who are famous for having a lot of money and telling people what to do. But in the last frame, the subject Ben is a far kinder and friendly sort...in fact his name is "Gentle Ben". Yes, we're talking about the bear. Of course, the "gentle" behavior was the product of ursine acting, not nature; because I'm sure that the bear bit the heads off of plenty of salmon during his breaks on the set. Anyway, until I found this photo, I had completely forgotten that Clint Howard played the kid whose irresponsible parents let him hang out with a 900-pound carnivore. As I've mentioned in this space on many occasions, I'm a BIG fan of Dopey Opie's little brother, and am always proud to find ways to give him kudos in this column. Way to go, Clint!

New GPS

I woke up singing the Brady Bunch theme song. Must've been having a nightmare. And for some reason, the associated fugue of half-dreamed thoughts included the following:

Did Florence Henderson ever go by a nickname? Florence just seems too formal. Did she go by "Flo", like that odd but somehow likeable chick on the Progressive commercials? Or did she go with the more rural interpretation and ask her friends to call her "Flossie"?

I worked with a woman named Flossie when I was at Beechcraft in Wichita. The poor woman tried hard, and I truly believe she had a good heart, but she wasn't really cut out for the office environment. She tried to further her education by watching Barney the Dinosaur, but it was too fast paced for her to keep up. But I digress.

The word "Henderson" always reminds me of the old black-and-white TV show "Superman". Straight-arrow policeman, Inspector Henderson, always wore suspenders...so I called him "Inspector Suspenderson", which I thought was terribly clever. (Hey, I was 8 years old.) He was obviously no relation to Florence.

Anyway, the point is that I bought a new GPS watch. There were two problems with my old one: 1) it was gigantic, and would rub my wristbone raw on a long run, and 2) the battery only lasted a couple of hours, which made it useless for a long bike ride. The new one is smaller, supposedly has a 15-hour battery life, and is waterproof to boot. It was selling for half price on Schwaggle, and I couldn't resist the deal.

I still have a long way to go to figure out how it works. But it looks much cooler than the old Garmin did. And as we all know, cool-looking accessories are the foundation of an effective training program. Expressed scientifically:

New Watch = Better Workouts

What? You don't think I'll suddenly become a faster and less fragile runner? How can you say that? Don't you think that I'll start doing 15-hour workouts so I can test their claims regarding battery life? Don't you think I'll be swimming across the ocean to test the waterproofing? Don't you think I'll plan multiple back-to-back workouts--where I blast from sport to sport as I celebrate the multi-mode capabilities of this technology?

Well, OK, perhaps a fancy timekeeping device isn't the answer to my workout woes. I'll admit that my challenges might include a teeny-tiny little bit of laziness and sloth...and that those issues are not correctable via chronometer. But the good news is that my friend Kim has signed up to run a marathon next spring, and is willing to let me piggyback on his training program as he prepares for that. With his influence and encouragement, I am hoping to train in a less haphazard fashion, and am optimistic that I'll be ready to run the marathon with him by the time it rolls around next year. We'll see.

If nothing else, you can expect to see very precise mileage figures listed here when I do perform a running workout. Maybe even a map or two. And oh yeah, it does track heart rates, too. If I can actually convince myself to put on the shoes and haul my tail out the door, I should be having some exciting runs about which to report.

If I can put the shoes on. I guess I'll ask for your help, too, my friends. I'd appreciate the occasional gentle nudge to remind me that I'll have wasted my money if I don't put this GPS to good use. I need to get out there on the roads (and trails) and challenge this hardware to keep up with me, right?

Well, wish me luck. And have a great day!

I've 'Ben' Thinking...

I plan to return to writing about training soon. I apologize for not staying on the "Keeping Pace" idea much lately. I do have some news to share with you regarding goal setting and athletics...but it'll have to wait for a bit. First I need to say a few more things about the little cultural literacy project we've been discussing over the last few blogs.

As the self-appointed Decider regarding facts that should be known by all Americans, I obviously enjoy spouting off about why we should all be aware of Bachman Turner Overdrive, or should all appreciate the scope of Richard Kiel's work throughout the decades. Or that the first syllable in the word "Genius" is "Gene" which happens to be the first name of the guy who invented Star Trek. I have a passion for discussions about those threads that bind us together as intelligent and culturally aware citizens of this country.

But there's a side benefit to playing with these literacy puzzles and observing the relationships among those who have achieved fame within our society -- I have found that each of these exercises inevitably leads to recognition of connections and wonders I had not previously pondered. I hope you are also realizing this benefit, and are allowing your mind to go off on these wonderful and exciting tangential journeys.



The reason I bring this up now is that the "Obi" puzzle got me thinking about why "Obi Wan" decided to use "Old Ben" as his witness protection program alias when he established his new identity on Tatooine. With the exception of "Luke", it appears that none of the inhabitants of the Galaxy Far Far Away are using Biblical or Hebraic names, so why not go with something from the "Jabba-JarJar-Jawa" etymology line? And even if "Ben" is an adequate misdirection (which I'm not sure I'll concede), don't you think it would be a good idea to disguise the "Kenobe" part as well?

Or better yet, since during the past 18 years, everyone seems to have forgotten all about the formerly most powerful cult in the galaxy and don't even know what "Jedi" means, why not just stick with Obi Wan? Nobody cares; it's not like there's a bounty on you or anything. Right?

I dunno. Just seems strange. And what, exactly, was "Old Ben" doing to make a living out in the domain of the sand people and glowing-eyed midgets? (Ever notice how Jawas dress and talk pretty much like Ewoks? Hmm.) Obi Wan didn't have a nice water farm like Owen and Baru, and since his former employer is unlikely to have provided a pension, well, just how the heck was he surviving?

My guess is that he was sitting at an intersection with a cardboard sign, and when rich folk would stop in their speeders, he'd wave his hand and say "You want to donate money to this bum. He deserves at least 50 credits."

That's my theory, anyway. But I digress. We're talking about these guys:



I'm confident that everybody knows Obi and Kobe; those were easy. But the third photo may have introduced a wrinkle. A lot of folks recognized actor Levar Burton (best known as Geordi LaForge on Star Trek TNG, or perhaps from the excellent PBS show, Reading Rainbow), and some even knew that this particular role was a fellow named "Kunta Kinte" from the epic miniseries "Roots". But that doesn't fit the theme, does it?

"Roots" was important for a number of reasons; it established the miniseries as a viable dramatic format; it inspired a great number of people to go read a book after seeing the movie, it brought slavery and race into the national consciousness for progressive civil discourse, and of course, it brought Mr. Burton onto a national stage.

But there's a crucial segment within the story when Kunta Kinte arrives at the plantation and meets his new owner. Since it's in the best interest of the business for the slaves to be insulated from their tribal past and ancestral heritage, the boss assigns each slave a new "American" name. Levar Burton's character is assigned the name of "Toby". It's a pivotal moment in the story, and a key portrayal of the assertion of human dignity as the shackled and whipped young man refuses to relinquish his given name.

But what's important to us is that "Toby" rhymes with Kobe and Obi...and Dobie.

Yes, the last frame is from the TV show "The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis", which starred Dwayne Hickman as the title character, and Bob Denver as his beatnik buddy, Maynard G. Krebs. I believe we've talked about Maynard in this space before, and we've probably discussed the cultural evolutionary relationship between beatniks, hippies, Kurt Kobain, and those rebellious kids who wear their pants hanging halfway down their backsides. I will never understand how refusing to wear a belt (an undeniably practical wardrobe enhancement) is seen as being morally equivalent to attending Woodstock, but that's a discussion for another forum. The point here is that Dobie's show is important in American culture because it launched the career of the fellow who would eventually play Gilligan.

And yes, I do absolutely deplore "Gilligan's Island". It's terrible, terrible television. It's dreck of the most foul kind, filled with what Roger Ebert called "the idiot plot"...wherein if there were ONE character who wasn't a complete idiot, they'd have killed Gilligan in episode two and been rescued in episode three.

(I did kinda have a thing for MaryAnn, though. But that, too, is a topic for a different venue.)



And finally, we have "otter".

The crusty old feller on the left is "Mr. Potter" from "It's a Wonderful Life", which I would hope everyone has seen. Fantastic movie. And your related trivia treat for the day is the delightful tidbit that Sesame Street characters Bert and Ernie were named after the cab driver and police officer who were Jimmy Stewart's friends in the movie. Bert was played by the actor Ward Bond, who had the serendipitous fate of sharing names with both Mr. Cleaver (Beave and Wally's dad) and 007. Pretty cool.

Mr. Potter was a jerk, though, and it's a good thing that George Bailey was alive to keep him from turning a lovely little town into Detroit. Anyway, the next guy is Harry Morgan in his MASH role as Col. Sherman Potter. He was OK, but I still like Detective Joe Gannon much better.

The fact that I threw two Harrys together misled a few people, but I was going for the last name here. The third guy is Harry Potter, who I understand is some sort of Penn & Teller wannabee. I think there's a book about him or something.

And the last guy is "Otter", from the movie Animal House. This brings us back to where this whole puzzle thing started (black or pinto, remember?). In fact, I would argue that between "It's a Wonderful Life", and "Animal House", you pretty much have American culture covered. From a literary point of view, both the rediscovery of Zuzu's petals and the ominous vision of the Deathmobile emerging from the smoke represent a form of redemption...of hope and fulfillment; of seeing that things are set right and that the world comes into balance and harmony.

And with that comforting thought, I shall leave you...with the promise of returning to normal current events commentary sprinkled with insights into the world of over-the-hill athletics. Until then, may the Force be with you, and have a great day!