Supplement

December 19, 2010: The Sunday Morning Supplement: Snow – The Grass is always Greener, or Whiter

The subject of snow came up today concerning the haves and have-nots.  Living in the North East corridor of the United States, it is something I am highly familiar with.  Though I am behind schedule, I have just cleared the garage to make for a clean entry for the car.

Here in New England, snow means cold weather, massive inconvenience and potential danger.  Every snowstorm costs me something, either I break my back shoveling the walk, or the guy plows my driveway for a modest sum.  Life gets derailed; the supermarket shelves are cleared, while the video stores are wiped clean.  There’s always a slight panic, which is egged on by the media.

A friend of mine who lives in the tropics has never seen or touched real snow.  Naturally, I would like to change places, at least in the winter, but there is something to be said for the winter’s white blanket that permeates my area.  Even though it does cause some trouble and some cash, I am always overwhelmed in the moment by its sheer beauty.

I love to watch the big fat flakes come down during the day, but it is the nighttime when the snow magic affects me most.  Walking under the full moon as the light beams down and makes the snow glisten, it gives me sheer joy and a wave of bliss comes over me.  It’s only a handful of times a year, so I am willing to give and take.

Given the chance, I’d move to somewhere warm in a New York minute.  In the meantime as long as I’m here, I’ll deal with the drawbacks and troubles when the storm hits, but I will always give a nod to the beauty of snow and all it offers.

December 12, 2010: The Sunday Morning Supplement: The Semi-Regular Manzo Progress Report or Flash Update

Here’s the current update folks; I’ve been head over heels busy.  Does that term work in this spot?  I’m so busy I can’t even come up with the right metaphor.  I could be busy as a bee or even a beaver.  Maybe something more show bizzy, like I’m as busy as Joan Rivers’ plastic surgeon.  I probably need a snare and a bass drum to juice that one up.

The good news is my book Above the Line is currently sitting in the hands of my editor.  We had a preliminary meeting on Friday, and everything went swimmingly.  She made some great points, and I ran with them.  It always makes sense to consult with others in any creative endeavor.  I find I cannot see everything by myself and a set of fresh eyes is more than helpful.

I just finished working with Larry Sampson, a great artist who just completed the book cover.  The results were higher than my expectations.  That doesn’t happen too often in life.  I wanted something that would be eye-catching and self-explanatory, he was able to do both.  I had the concept and Larry was able to bring it to life.

Now that the book is with the editor it made me feel like I had some time to produce another short movie.  I do have time, but there is so much mental energy expended on any production, no matter how small.  I designed this one to be simple, consisting of a two-man crew, and about a dozen actors.   I am shooting the audition, which is a real time saver.  You might say it is an experiment in assembly line movie making.  The plan is to shoot Friday, edit Saturday and upload by Monday, I have to have one day off.

Right after the shoot I’ll be ramping up for my book launch.  I’m looking at the end of February now.  The date will be firmed up in the next few weeks depending how sloppy my editor finds my copy.  I’m actually in good shape there, but the process is still new, and if it is anything like film, then it will take longer than I think.

After the holidays I’ll ramp up for the launch, and begin the never-ending hustle to promote my book.  I have been planning this for a while, and I’m looking forward to the next step.  It’s been a year, the longest I’ve ever put into any project.  Artistically, I am already fulfilled.  Let’s see if I can do the same thing commercially.

December 5, 2010: The Sunday Morning Supplement: Second Place

If there is one thing that we have no use for in today’s society is second place.  It certainly gets a pat on the back, but the loser is immediately filed away in the obscurity cabinet, while the winner is carved in stone for future generations to praise.

At the Olympic games the silver medalist is invited to stand next to the winner for the brief award ceremony, and is also applauded in the wake of the winner.   As the last notes are played of the champ’s national anthem, the winner is ushered into life changing promotion deals, while the penultimate player is quietly put on a bus back to her hometown.

Many championships are decided in the final seconds of a series of games that could almost be labeled a draw, but with one extra point the victor is crowned king and reaps all the spoils, while the loser hang his head for his final walk to the locker room.

It was Super Bowl ­­XXXIV, when the Tennessee Titans came within inches of winning America’s most celebrated championship, I understood the hair that separates first and second place.  With no timeouts and the clock ticking, there was time for one more play.  The quarterback faded back, looked around and found his man downfield; the catch was made on the two-yard line as the last seconds fell off the clock.  He turned toward the goal, but was simultaneously hit by a defender.  He extended his arm toward the six-point plane only to be denied all of America’s glory by a few inches.

Finishing second should not be under rated.  To be the second best at something in a world of almost 7 billion is no easy accomplishment.  It takes years of training, focus and drive.   There is always some honor bestowed on the runner-up, but most people, including the competitors, care little about it.  Still, it should get more than a friendly nod or a set of steak knives.

November 28, 2010: The Sunday Morning Supplement: Black Friday Is Here to Stay

It is beyond official, the holiday season is in full gear and everyone is ramping up for his or her winter event.  This time of year has lost its subtlety a long time ago.  Way back in the last millennium when I was a lad, there was a gap between Thanksgiving and Christmas.  We saw Santa at the end of the Macy’s Day Parade for a brief moment, and then he would quietly return to the North Pole to get back to work.

A couple of weeks before Christmas the lights would go up in my neighbor’s window, the Charlie Brown Special would air and we’d casually roll into the Lord’s Birthday bash.   Now the malls flood the halls with Bing Crosby and all the other Christmas crooners just after Halloween.  Starbucks went to their holiday cups weeks ago and my neighborhood already has blinking Santas on the front porch.

Regardless of how you approach the holiday season, there is no getting away from it.  The air is permeated with sales and advertisement.  I wouldn’t mind it toned down a little, but there is no going back.  The media blitz is on and Black Friday has been staked into the heart of American Culture.

Many seem to complain about the media blitz and the commercialization of Christmas, yet many seem to embrace the shopping frenzy.  As long as people are getting up at three in the morning to be the first one at the mall, the modern mayhem surrounding the holiday will only grow larger.  For us simple folk, we can only reminisce about the past and a time of a stress free, hype-less holiday.

November 21, 2010: The Sunday Morning Supplement: Can We Forgive Vick?

There seems to be a highly controversial story going on in the NFL.  That would be the National Football League for you artist and intellectual types.  Quarterback Michael Vick has returned to the league from his stint in the big house for having an illegal dog-fighting racket in his back yard.  Society wacked him for two years without passing go, and now he’s back on the field slinging the pigskin downfield.

Upon his return he picked up a job down in Philly with the Eagles as a back-up.  Relegated to the in case of QB break glass position, the media machine let the dust settle and it became business as usual.  Everything changed this year since Vick is playing fulltime, and in his long absence, Vick has learned to throw the ball in an accurate fashion, connecting with receivers all over the field and is one of the top performers in the league.

Many of the NFL faithful have not been able to forgive the fore mentioned Vick for his crimes against humanity, or at least dogmanity.  He’s a convicted felon, which is certainly branding in this society, but at what point is a man aloud to put his past behind him.  Anyone familiar with the case would agree it was a vile crime, and no excuse for such behavior.  However, the man has come back driven and focused to change his life.

It is hard to know if a public figure feels remorse, because if he didn’t he would be spouting the party line and give the people what they want.  I would imagine two years in the clink is enough to change anyone, and I would like to think Vick has rehabilitated himself on a real level.  I couldn’t be sure, but I’m willing to take it day by day.

Will I be rooting for the former criminal QB on Sunday as he leads his team against the visiting New York Giants?  That would be a stretch for me, I’m all for redemption and forgiveness, but I am from New York.

November 14, 2010: The Sunday Morning Supplement: New reality Transmission

Today’s supplement is taking a different path today. I normally have a tendency to lean toward comedic fare, but this morning I’m going in a different direction. A few days ago I came across this link, www.newrealitytransmission.com. Naturally, I clicked on, to find out about the hubbub, bub.

Every night at 11:11 PM, for 11 days, starting on November 11, people around the world are coming together for 11 minutes to meditate on world peace. This is non-secular and actually a scientific movement to change the worldwide consciousness of the planet.

In days gone by science and spirituality have opposed one another. In the modern era men and women of science have embraced spirituality, they have found a connection between the two. Here is opportunitiy to participate in a worldwide movement to change the dynamic of the planet for the better. For more skeptical minds it might seem more like a kooky cosmic experiment at best, but even with this perspective it is still worth a try to participate. You have nothing to lose.

They are still seven days left to join in on the massive movement to change the collective consciousness of our planet Earth. All you have to do is close your eyes for 11 minutes at the prescribed time, and pump out positive thoughts to the universe. It is a simple task that does not take much commitment, which could have wondrous results. Please click on the link and check it out for yourself. read more

November 7, 2010: The Sunday Morning Supplement: The Bathroom Song

Today’s subject is the bathroom song.  For those of you who are not familiar with the phrase, it is a song at the concert that allows you to relieve yourself.  If you are young and your concert going days are just getting started, I am sure that you have never heard of, or have no need for the bathroom song.

When I was in my youth I to was unfamiliar and had no use for the phrase, I didn’t need or want the break.  I was of course, able to recognize it.  I’d say to myself or to the person I was with, “Why are they playing this terrible song?”

Finding the bathroom song at a movie is a bit more challenging.  It is not as obvious as the slow ballad that is not touching on any emotional chord.  It is helpful, when you are in the theater to hedge that flash of boredem by watching at the exit for a few minutes until that magic moment arrives, a point when you are free to leave the movie without missing any vital plot points in order to grab your two minutes of comfort.

So, when you are watching your favorite band, and the band goes into that God-awful song in the middle of the first set, it’s not because they are pushing their brand new bogus CD. It is just their way of giving the over 40 crowd a break.

October 31, 2010: The Sunday Morning Supplement: Costume Advice

I know it’s the last minute, but if you haven’t figured it out yet, perhaps I can recommend some easy on easy off costumes.  Many of you folks with the creative minds and the lovers of Halloween don’t need me.  You have had your costume picked out long ago and you are poised to indulge in an alter ego for the evening.  My advice is for the costume challenged folks out there. The people who still want to go to the party, but they don’t want to get dressed, but they don’t want to go without a costume, but they want to go.

Suggestion number one: one of the easiest, coolest, slickest, costumes in the biz that doesn’t take much work, and you probably have all the ingredients in that old credenza of yours, is the ninja.  A slick, black, tight outfit is all you need, and you are not only in full costume, you are one of the coolest at the party.  What else can people say but, “Oooo, isn’t that cool!”

If you want to play a character, but don’t want to go to far, you can opt for the plain-clothes detective.   You can put on a cheap suit and voila you are in full regalia.  If you are inspired you can even pick one of your old TV favorites dicks.  I usually lean towards Kojack.  I pick up a lollypop at the drugstore and get to say, “Who loves ya baby,” all night long.  If you just want to wear casual street clothes you can go as Serpico.

Costume number three does require a trip to the drug store, but since you are going out anyway – no problem.  Right on the shelf you’ll find the handy dandy tooth-blackout kit.  A couple of swipes and you are Alfred E. Newman.  For those of you who didn’t waste their youth reading Mad Magazine, he was the face of that rag.  This costume packs a lot of kitsch.

The last suggestion, and the pièce de résistance, and a real gem from my personal collection of costumes, is the Robert De Niro.  I apply a circular beauty mark to the proper cheek and voila, I am transformed into the New York thespian himself.  This is the easiest one in the lot, just a little mascara and you are in business.  When I do it, I actually get taken for De Niro himself.  Between my accent and the facial contractions I’m a dead ringer.

October 24, 2010: The Sunday Morning Supplement: Verizon: Scamming the Nation

The Verizon phone rebate is one of the best scams to hit the streets since the 29% interest credit card.  Best from the vendor’s view, for the consumer it is trickle away economics.

Let’s start at the beginning.  I was shopping for my new cell phone upgrade, when the word “free” caught my eye.  I just needed a simple phone with a keypad.  I stepped up to the counter and got hit with a $50.00 temporary charge.  “You have to fill out the rebate form and send in the proof of purchase on the box.”  That’s the entry level of the scam.  There are many people who never fill out the intimidating two-foot rebate sheet.

You also need a scissor to cut out the proof of purchase on the box.  Why do you need proof of purchase?  Isn’t the Fifty bucks on your freshly swiped credit card proof enough?  The scissor just creates another step that loses a few more people who don’t have one handy, and decide to do it later, and for some later never comes.

Some folks like myself wait a couple of weeks to send in the rebate to make sure that the phone works properly.  I imagine some more customers might forget the rebate at this point and let it go by the wayside.  Not yours truly, I have too much indignation.

At some point the rebate comes in the form of a gift card, which is stuffed in an envelope with a lot of other useless material to get you to toss it in the trash.  This is another step in the scam to keep shedding rebate collectors.  There are a bunch of us waiting and even counting on this rebate.  Most people are unaware they can apply it toward their bill, which is the way to go.  The key is to spend it all in one swoop.

Even if the person puts the card in his or her pocket and uses it, he or she will inevitably use it down to a $1.85, or $.37.  It does not sound like much, but if you multiply it by the millions of rebates they do each year, all that small change adds up.  It’s nothing to you, and it’s more of a pain to an re-use the card with only $.37 left on it.  So, it gets tossed away and Verizon gets that $.37 times two million; well, you can do the math.

It is a modern day con perpetuated on the consumer, or the rube.  A sap by any other name will still be taken advantage of.  The honorable thing to do is to make it a clean transaction at the time of purchase, and end all the BS bureaucracy.  Unfortunately, honor does not enter into the corporate vocabulary.

October 17, 2010: The Sunday Morning Supplement: It’s the Big One

I never thought about my age.  So far, I have accepted the process of growing old.  It seems to have been a smooth transition; one year seems to flow into the next.  In previous birthdays ending in zero, I had noted the milestones as they passed, but even 40 did not feel out of the ordinary.

However, from the day I hit 49, my first thought was, “Wow!  I’m going to be 50!”  I’ve thought about it for the last year and have talked it over with many folks, mostly others who have already achieved this goal.  Most would say, it’s the “big one” and I would agree.

They say you don’t start to live until your 50, or is that 40, either way I’m living now.  As humans we have a lot to figure out for ourselves.  If nothing else, life does teach us how to live, and the main thing I’ve learned, it is all how you look at it.  Sure, many are dealt some bad hands, but many a poker game has been won with poor cards.

Life is about perspective; two people witnessing the same event will tell an entirely different story of what transpired.  When we approach our day we can view it either way.  We take our half glass and see it as we like.

For some life is a slap in the face, and for others it is a kiss on the cheek.  We’ve all experienced both, and it is predominantly how we see it.  Whether you meet the wise man in India, or someone selling a self-help book on Oprah, it all boils down to the same thing –Attitude!

I’m not a naïve guy, and I do see the world for what it is: it’s problems and it’s beauty.  There are not many things we can control or even have a say in.  The one thing that is still in our power, although most of us don’t always know it, is our lives.  I will share one thought the wise man did impart on me, “What you think, you create.”

So, with the sun shining, I will head out my door, smell the flowers and the coffee, which as you know don’t mean the same thing, but both need to be sniffed.  I will embrace the day and celebrate it.  As my Uncle John said to me, “You only turn 50 once.”

October 10, 2010: The Sunday Morning Supplement: Something New In Lingerie

In the words of Al Jolson, “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”  In a rare moment of having a remote control in my hand, I stumbled onto a show that forced me to scrape my jaw off the floor.  I’m talking about one of the newest gimmicks to hit the airwaves since Celebrity Boxing.   For those of you not on the cutting edge of TV, get ready for Lingerie Football.

Twenty years ago I was traveling abroad for an extensive time period.  When I returned stateside I found myself in front of a television watching American Gladiator, a show that I immediately felt was a setback to the civilized world.

Now we have scantily clad women running around in their underwear playing full contact football, complete with shoulder pads, helmets and garter belts.  Make no mistake it is smash mouth football, as much as it can be with players at that top off at 112 pounds.   It is a sad state of affairs at this late date in evolution, when media makers need to resort to such lowbrow entertainment.

Naturally women’s groups are in an uproar and I’m not saying it should be banned.  If it were up to me I’d ban all banning.  I applaud freedom of expression, but can’t help but wonder, what is the point of a show like this beyond making money?  I know it’s about the money.  The question that comes to my mind: Who is the demographic?  Yes, I know it is men, but which men?  After the initial “Get a load of this, ” awestruck moment, the appeal takes a nosedive.  I believe if the viewer is looking for some type of erotic experience there are other channels to serve that need much better.

The audience is most likely bored frat dudes getting wasted on a Friday night.  As ridiculous as I find Lingerie Football, I believe it might be here to stay.  Certainly there is so much bad programming there is room for exploitation football.  Just add this to the long list of trash that is excreted from that menacing machine in the middle of everyone’s living room.

October 3, 2010: The Sunday Morning Supplement: The Commercialization of Cool

The commercialization of cool has been going on for a long time, when a counter culture erupts, pop culture eventually gets a hold of it, and it becomes mainstream.  It doesn’t take long for some people to catch on to a good thing and then it doesn’t take long for others to catch on to other people catching on.

Everybody is cool now.  Everyone is in a band or making a movie.  In New York, crops of nouveau hip areas are turning up all over Brooklyn.  Former industrial wastelands are filled with college kids seeking the cool life and with Manhattan priced out of the market, pilgrims are headed into the boroughs for lower rent and a cheaper falafel.

There have always been cool people in society, but before the ‘60’s there were only small factions, as our country was overrun with un-cool people.  By 1967 many people were becoming cool and for the cool people it was getting un-cool.  That year dubbed the “Summer of Love,” when everyone flocked to San Francisco, was the beginning of the end, as pop culture ran cool into the ground.

Since then there have been many cool things done by of course, many cool people.  Today, hipsters from all over the world flock to Brooklyn, to hang out with other cool folks, create art and chat it up in cafés.  There are other cool pockets around the country.  Every hip dude and cool chick from Miami to Missouri heads to Atlanta to sip espresso and search for self-expression.

Exploration of individuality is accepted in most places, at least openly.  The Internet has certainly galvanized the country and everyone has access to everything.  In many ways that’s cool, but the backlash is that cool becomes commonplace.  I don’t know if that was the goal, but we’ve come a long way from Leave it to Beaver, and that is progress.

September 26, 2010: Sunday Morning Supplement: Working for the Man

When I was just a young lad making my way into the world I needed employment like everyone else.  I found out quickly that there were two types of bosses, good and not good.  I’m here to talk about the latter.

I had a hard time with overzealous employers with poor people skills and big egos. The combination of the boss’s power trip and my rebellious nature did not mix well. As a young man I had a high level of indignation for injustice, especially if it was directed at me.

I didn’t realize my contribution to the problem, and it took me a long time to figure it out.  It finally dawned on me while working for some high-strung honcho that I took it personal.  In the end it wasn’t about me, even when I did screw up.  I began to disconnect myself from the mood and actions of the top dog.  I pulled back so much it began to look like a TV show.  What was once humiliation transformed into entertainment.

As time passed and I found myself the butt of some outraged foreman’s wrath, I would listen in a very Spock-like manner, without emotion or care.  Say the required, “You got it,” or “No problem,” and move on with my day.

Then there was the boss who wasn’t quite as extreme in self-expression, but it was clear that I should withhold my opinions.  After all he’s in charge and once in charge an open mind is no longer necessary.  The other dysfunctional boss is the micromanager.  He will tell you to place the stuff a hair to the right, or tell you how to do your work the way you were going to do it anyway.

I guess I’m not unearthing any deep psychological breakthroughs, if you have to work for the man you don’t necessarily have to smile, but you do have to keep your mouth shut.  In the end you’re the stronger person for it, and you’ll be able to keep your job.

September 19, 2010: The Sunday Morning Supplement: Texting and the Fall of Civilization

Texting could mean the beginning of the end of communication, as we know it.  If communication stops, then the end of the world is soon to follow.  Am I here waving the “Texting Is Evil” flag?  I certainly am not putting it in the category of true evils in the world like fascism or television.   It does have its big picture drawbacks.

They say money is the root of all evil, and for those who purport that argument, they would have a good case if money was ever put on trial.  I have never been one to blame the currency for inherent problems of human behavior.  Money just is, and we have the power to give or corrupt, it is that simple.

Texting can be seen as a mere tool due to technological advancements.  I have to admit it does come in handy.  Why call someone up and go through all the pleasantries, when all you want to do is change the meeting time.   On its basic level texting has a purpose, but like email one of its purposes is to avoid human contact.  I don’t know if it is premeditated, for the younger generation it seems to be habit.  The kids just peck away at their phones all day sending repetitive messages to their friends.  What can possibly be so urgent in an adolescent life that can’t wait until the next school day?  I don’t blame the kids; they would follow the Pied Piper all the way to the river if we let them.

Anything more than, “Honey, can you pick up the milk on the way home,” can be misinterpreted. The biggest issue with these microscopic messages is the lack of clarity due to assumed intonation.  People are having whole conversations on their phones, they’re not saying a word, and they are being misunderstood.  I’ve been eyewitness to a couple breaking up via the text.  I would have thought at some point in the fallout one of them might have might have been inclined to call the other.

I abide by the 3-text rule for conversation.  By the time the third text arrives, and has not resolved the purpose for the communication, I actually dial the number and then talk to the person to round out the details.  It is partly due to my impatience and partly because I don’t have a Blackberry or I-phone.  If I have to write the letter S, I must hit the button four times.  This kind of communication just wears me out.

The worst part is the sheer anarchy applied to the use of language.  There is no sense of grammar, or use of punctuation and spelling is almost forgotten, thus creating compromised language skills that will be in place for the next generation of texters.  I am all for acronyms and like most Americans shorten everything, but I do believe that texting can be a determent, but unfortunately like the TV it is here to stay.

September 12, 2010: The Sunday Morning Supplement: The Haircut

My first bad haircut experience was at the age of 8 years old.  I blew a perfectly good Saturday afternoon waiting my turn at the local barbershop, a time when the tri-colored pole was still in vogue at male hair salons.  Did I say salon?  I meant joint.  The barber kept passing over me to do his regulars.  As a wee lad I didn’t have the gumption yet to walk out of the shop.  It was like a purgatorial sentence, that I survived, but not unscathed.

The next string of disastrous haircuts, were by my aunt.  She was a professional and she saved my mother a buck or two over the years, but I paid the price for the superfluous removal of my golden locks.   The worst botch job on my upper threads was in Thailand, the barber kept screwing it up and I kept getting him to fix it, and before I knew what happened, it was like Lucy Ricardo clipping her Christmas tree, there was nothing left.

By the time I was in my late twenties and living in New York, I finally found someone I liked, who could cut my hair.  That was when I was brainwashed to think that it was necessary to spend a half day’s pay to get something done right.  He did a good job, but I couldn’t keep up with that jet set lifestyle and found I needed to put that money to more important things, like rent.

Flash forward to modern day.  I’ve tried one clip joint after another, and still I was not pleased, until a friend started to cut it.  She just clipped from the hip; until it looked good and there was enough hair on the floor to prove she did it.  She did a bang-up job, the only problem is that she left town.

Since the pros always screwed it up, and my friend had no idea what she was doing, except for instinct, I was inspired to do it myself, save the dough and debunk the myth of the necessity of a professional.  I can’t say across the board a hair stylist is unnecessary, especially for some of you ladies with such intricate weaves.  I can say for the male coiffure and the male population, we are being taken, hoodwinked, bamboozled, hornswoggled.  Yes, hornswoggled, and nobody wants that.

My advice is to grab a pair of scissors and take a stab at it.  What have you got to lose?  Even a good haircut doesn’t last.   You’ll eventually need another one.  You can save a couple hundred bucks a year, and put that toward something more important, like a cup of coffee.

September 5, 2010: The Sunday Morning Supplement: The Fair-Weather Fan VS the Die-Hard Fan

The fair-weather fan and the bandwagon jumper have a lot in common, if not, they are the same person.  He only has time for his team when things are going right and when the team is winning.  The fair weather fan as opposed to the die-hard fan knows no pain.  When things go awry on the field for any length of time he has found something else to interest him.  He knows the bandwagon will not leave the terminal and he is free to move on.

The die-hard fan on the other hand, has nothing but contempt and loathing for the fair-weather fan.  He takes umbrage at his last minute arrival to the party and detests him for jumping on the bandwagon.  The philosophy being, if you have not grinded it out and suffered your whole life through the hard times, you have no right to enjoy the good times.  As much as it sticks in the craw of the die-hard, there is nothing he can do to stop the bandwagon from picking up peripheral partiers.

What is a bandwagon for, if not to jump on?  That is the essence of the bandwagon.  It comes around the corner hooting and hollering, playing music and having a grand old time.  Why wouldn’t you want to jump on the bandwagon?  I will admit, even though frowned upon in some circles, I am a bandwagon jumper.  If I see a party coming down the street I just can’t help myself but to jump on board.  That’s the beauty of the bandwagon, everyone is invited, the only criteria is to enjoy the celebration.

I have put my hand out to some curb dwellers while riding shotgun on the bandwagon.  Heck, I even pulled over and asked them to come aboard.  I have found that some people would rather lie in their own misery then enjoy any happiness you could offer them.  After receiving a resounding “NO!” we would lash the horses and be on our merry way, leaving some miserable sod, under a street lamp, on the side of the road, crying in his beer and cursing at us.  It is his choice, of course.

August 29, 2010: The Sunday Morning Supplement: New York City, aka Bubble Land

As a born and bread New Yorker, who has long since left the city for greener pastures, I’m in a position to make observations on the place of my birth.  Whether one is born in Gotham City or has made the trek their from Minnesota, the end result is a bubble that develops around them, which disconnects contact from the rest of the population.

People living in New York City are clearly living in their own world.  They stay to themselves and do not acknowledge their neighbor.  I was sitting on a bench in front of a bar, when a young couple came out of the bar and sat down next to me, just two inches apart.  In most parts of the world there would have been some acknowledgement of the space, a reference or an excuse me.  In New York, this is natural behavior.

On the subway an a cappella group came in my car and sang a couple rounds of the Gospel number, Get On Board. The subway car was completely deadpan.  Even though these subway singers were good, the strap hangers had on their protective glare that states, “Leave me alone, I’m not giving you a dime no matter how good you are!”

The bubble is nothing new in New York.  It has been used as a protective force field for years.  Manhattan used to be a far more dangerous place and one constantly needed to be on guard, and even though the city’s crime rate has decreased the old habits die hard and the aura of protection is worn by all.  If you have never been to New York, you can check out Robert De Niro who adorns the New York grimace in all his movies.

While in the bubble, visibility is small and it decreases if there are more people in the bubble together, such as a family or a group of friends.  They are self-absorbed and won’t notice much going on around them short of a Mafia hit.  However, once the bullets are dodged it is business as usual.

I will let you in on a little secret.  Even though the locals walk around like they are ready to brawl at a moment’s notice, they are actually some of the friendliest people on the planet.   The bubble is there and seemingly hard to penetrate, but if you have the impetus to break through, you will find once inside another’s bubble you will be welcome and they will look you in the eye and engage with you.  Then you are in for your next problem.  Once you start talking to a New Yorker, you can’t shut him up.

August 22, 2010: The Sunday Morning Supplement: Smoker’s Backlash

If you’re a smoker these days you certainly get the short end of the stick.  Every day there’s a new law in another state preventing you from killing yourself.  That doesn’t mean I’m against smoking.  I think people should be able to make their own decisions, whether they want to drink, smoke or brazenly soar down the highway unbuckled.

In the early days of smoking or at least when I was a kid, smokers didn’t give a hoot about your airspace.  They were entitled to smoke and that was the end of it.  As I coughed my brains out at the kitchen table my family members were kind enough to wave away the smoke with their free hand.  Now the foot is on the other shoe, or the worm has turned, or payback’s a bitch.  The non-smokers have organized and are shutting it down.  I heard that in California they are about to pass a law that prohibits looking at a cigarette in a public place.

There have been some concessions made over the years.  For instance, in airports there is usually a designated room for smokers to imbibe.  Unfortunately, it looks like a scene from Cheech and Chong’s, Up in Smoke.  For some reason there is no ventilation and smokers are forced to enjoy their habit in a toxic environment.  Just walking in that room will probably take four years off your life.  On the set of the crucible, smokers were given a 3’ x 10’ area to congregate and smoke.  It was a little demeaning as the area was roped off like a cattle pen, but when you need a smoke pride flies out the window.

Smokers are now picking up the tab for public works.  When the state needs money they increase the taxes on cigarettes, after all they are doing them a favor by offering them a deterrent to quit, that’s their story anyway.  Either way the modern smoker is society’s current whipping boy.

What can you the smoker do about your current plight?  There are options believe it or not.  You can move to Turkey, where they still smoke on the bus.  If that is excessive you can still enjoy smoking in the privacy of your own home, but how long will that last before more laws are made for your own good and you will soon be meeting underground.  Your final option would be to conform to what others think you should do.  Though I am against smoking, I’d rather you die with a smile on your face then for you to give into public pressure.

August 15, 2010: The Sunday Morning Supplement: Dining at the Theater

I once heard a French director say, “Americans go to the movies for an excuse to eat.”  I think he was French; he did have a beret on and a baguette under his arm.  He must have been French; he pulled off the beret without being pretentious, a tough task for any other ethnicity.  I give one point for boldness and two points for self-confidence for anyone else making such an attempt.  In a world where everyone is seeking to find the Truffaut or Cézanne inside of them, I must applaud any attempts to reach their outer voice of self-expression.

But I’m not here to talk about creative headwear; I’m here to talk about popcorn, candy and getting ripped off in the process.  In the early age of cinema, one would set out to the local theater and see the main feature, the B feature, a newsreel, cartoons and previews.  With all that time commitment I can understand why it might be necessary to have a snack, even a barbecue, especially if you stuck around to see the A movie again.

In the modern era we spend and an average of two to two and a half hours sitting in front of the big screen, which includes nineteen minutes of ads and trailers.  Is it really necessary to load up on oversized soda and candybar?  At my local theater you can “save” by purchasing the big popcorn and two large sodas for only $12.00, such a bargain.

You can bring in your own goodies, but that is highly frowned upon by the management, who is taking you to the cleaners.  Why not?  Live dangerously!  Put a bag of Smart Food down your shirt or a bottle of Poland Springs water in your pocket.  I know, it’s not the same.  If you did smuggle in your own contraband you would lose your opportunity to purchase a two-foot Kit Kat bar.  I do admit it does look inviting and you would have enough left over to feed your family for two days.

Like most things that have started out of necessity, the real reason is lost and America is fattening up at the theater.  Society is brainwashed, “I must buy ticket, I have ticket, I must buy popcorn and soda.”  (Please apply robot voice here, something a la Lost in Space circa 1965.)

August 8, 2010: The Sunday Morning Supplement: The Lost Art of Hitchhiking

I was driving along the Massachusetts Turnpike or as we locals like to call it, the Mass Pike.  Does that make me a local?  After all, I am from Brooklyn.  I don’t wear it on my sleeve, but if you listen to me long enough it becomes apparent.  I pulled over to get some gas and as I was ramping up for re-entry, there by the side of the road I saw a familiar sight, something I had not seen in over ten years.  Two young gentleman, or as Joe Pesci would say two utes were standing there smiling with arms out and thumbs up.  Yes folks, they were hitchhiking.

I am aware that if you live on the west coast spotting an occasional hitchhiker is nothing to write home about, let alone an article for public consumption.  Here on the east coast hitchhiking is a dead form of transportation, at least until yesterday when I saw these enthusiastic young gents resurrect it.

Truth be told when I was pushing the boundaries of my adolescent emancipation, I too delved into the lost art of thumb travel.  I didn’t do it for the adventure or glory, simply as a means of getting from point A to point B, when funds were low.  Though it was a free form of passage, it did not come without its price.  I was never robbed or beaten; I did however, have my share of awkward moments with some strange folks.

One of the biggest fallacies of hitchhiking is that the hitchhiker is dangerous.  This erroneous fact has been propagated by horror movies making the hitchhiker your worst nightmare.  More times than not it is the thumber and not the thumbie that needs to beware of strange vehicles in the middle of the night.

After World War II the roads were flooded with serviceman with their hands out and thumbs up making their way home.  In the sixties and seventies the young counter culture optimized this type of transit.  It was quite popular and as a society we were at our hitchhiking peak.  When yours truly hit the road in the late seventies and early eighties, it was the beginning of the end.   The times changed, the roads were not as safe and people figured out alternative means of travel.  The golden age of hitchhiking is gone and will most likely never return.

I am wondering if those two chaps have been picked up by now.  I was tempted to pull over, they looked like two nice kids, but alas, my car was filled and I had no choice but to shrug my shoulders in apology.  In the long run I think it costs more than you save.  So, stay off the road, stay in school, just say no, don’t take any wooden nickels and always look on the bright side of life.

August 1, 2010: The Sunday Morning Supplement: Baseball Is in My Blood

As you may have noticed baseball is a reoccurring theme with me.  I loved the game since I picked up my first stickball bat in 1967.  It is pretty much a dead game today.  Back then the game was played on the city streets with many time-outs for the passage of motor vehicles.  The bat was similar to a broom handle and would run for less than a buck, the ball would range from 15 to 25 cents.  If you hit the ball over the roof, it was 3 outs.  If you had access to the roof and retrieved the ball it was only 1 out.

Today the game is still in my blood and I can’t shake it off, even though I’m priced out of participation, at least at the Major League level.  Since I live on the east coast where baseball teams from Boston to Philly charge premium prices for tickets, it is a rare moment when I can go to the ballpark.  If I were to take my family it would cost me a week’s salary for some decent tickets and a few bags of peanuts.

I do prefer the pros, but it’s not necessary to satiate my appetite for the former national pass time.  Last week I was staring through a chicken wire fence at a slow-pitch softball game.  I’ve been known to come to a screeching halt at the site of a little league game on the side of the road.

Even though nothing matches the experience of the big leagues on a hot summer night, I must settle for memories.  Just because I can’t afford it I don’t boycott baseball completely.  There will be many a night I’ll have the radio blaring out a west coast game until two in the morning.  I would watch it on TV, but I don’t have cable or Direct TV.  I’m morally opposed to paying for television.

July 25, 2010: The Sunday Morning Supplement: Apollo 14 Fact or Ficton

It has been discussed in many eclectic circles, and some not so eclectic, that the lunar landing may not actually have been on the up and up.  I’m not here to expound on any conspiracy theories, I’m not here to expound against them, I’m just here to examine it from the filmmaker’s perspective.

The first shot is Neil Armstrong climbing down from his space module to take the first steps on the moon and saying the immortal words, “It’s one small step for man,” and yadda yadda.  I always wondered who set up that camera.  I know when I get to any movie location in the morning it takes at least 20 minutes before I can roll.  The next shot is a wide shot.  Who moved the camera?  That tripod must have weighed about 400 pounds, given the gravity conditions.  Pretty cool there was no cable from the camera to the mother ship.  And where is that light source coming from?  It looks like an 18K tungsten lamp.  There have also been theories of wires being bandied about, to create the light footedness of the astronauts in a compromised gravity situation, that is, if it was staged.

It is also hard to believe they were able to send back a video signal in real time.  This of course was 20 years before the advent of direct TV.  Heck, we were still using rotary phones back then, the answering machine had not yet arrived and the VHS recorder was light years away.  The communication from the moon was spot on, and with no delay.  In 1969 it was tough enough calling France, let alone the Moon.

I’m not here to throw the first stone at the integrity of the Apollo moon mission, that was done a long time ago.  I’m just pointing out a few continuity flaws, as any film aficionado would do.   Surely I’ve not unearthed the lynch pin to this whole case, and of course we’re not the only ones who landed on the moon.  Didn’t the Soviets take credit for doing it a few months later?  “We land on moon too.” (Must be said with a Russian accent.

July 18, 2010: The Sunday Morning Supplement: Always Count Your Change

My bank recently acquired a change counting machine.  You bring in all your nickels and the machine will save you the trouble of counting your money.  Something I’ve never minded in the past, but I can see how it might be a drudgery for others.  I asked the teller if there was a charge for this service, to which she replied, “Oh yes, but it’s only one per cent.”

I would guess if you are the change saving type, that one per cent might mean something to you.  I have seen other change counting machines in supermarkets requiring up to 8% for their troubles.  I am presuming they are relying on the dumber demographic.   That commission seems criminal, but the way they figure it you can count your own money then.

Philosophically I am opposed to saving change.  I recycle mine immediately and never let it go beyond the price of a latte.  Saving change merely acts as a physiological ploy in order to let you think you are saving money without feeling it.  It would still amount to the same thing if you put two bucks aside daily.  Then you wouldn’t have all that work when it was time to break into the piggy bank, thus saving you more money in the long run because you do not have to pay another bank fee to manage your money.

It would be nice if the bank provided that service for the their customers free of charge, though that would go against the grain of capitalism.  The bank does leave the option for people who need their money to count it themselves.  I am looking forward to the day I can afford to have others count my money.  I’m just looking forward to that day, I’m sure I will still be counting it myself.

July 11, 2010: The Sunday Morning Supplement: Baseball and Its Lost Feeling

Baseball, once America’s favorite pass time, is now just another thing to do in a country where there are many popular sports and oodles of entertainment.  Sure, it is still very popular and a billion dollar industry, but the romance of yesteryear is long gone and it no longer galvanizes the nation.

When I was just a wee lad, the whole country would hang on every pitch of the World Series.  There were radios and TV’s in the work place and everyone paid attention no matter what city the participants were from.  I used to implore my 6th grade teacher to let us watch it, “But Mr. Wahl, it’s the World Series!”  He knew the truth I spoke and he would wheel the television in for us to partake in one of the nations most loved cultural experiences.

Even though ballplayers were making good money in the old days, it wasn’t the over inflated salaries of today.  I don’t condemn the players for grabbing as much pie as they can eat, certainly since the owners are making scads more.  The fan must also take responsibility for the price increase, since they are the ones that drive the box office.  Nobody is innocent.

I still love baseball and stay up late many a night listening to a west coast game on the radio, as my team moves towards the Pennant.  However, live games are another story.  I’m completely priced out of the market.  This experience is worth about fifteen bucks to me.  The concessions are a gauge fest and I’ll find my own parking spot, thank you.

It would be naïve to think professional baseball was about anything else besides money from its inception.  People were playing for years before someone got the bright idea of putting a fence around the field and charging 2 bits.  Still before the first round of players ever went on strike, there was a beauty to the game or at least a cultural illusion we all participated in.

July 4, 2010: Sunday Morning Supplement: The Big Picnic

The 4th of July is upon us and right on schedule.  As luck would have it, this year the holiday falls on a Sunday, so I feel the need to address it from a professional standpoint along with my stance on the nation’s birth.  First and foremost I will say unequivocally that I am down for any birthday bash, personal or national.  I am also a big fan of Bastille Day.

One thing I can say about the 4th is that above all the glorious events and hoopla that happen on this day, the thing of beauty that captures my attention is just a simple everyday food that is present at most Independence Day celebrations through out America, and that is the under rated dish known as potato salad.

Now, to get the ball rolling, I will tell you that I love most potato salads that are made with love, care or both.  I do not appreciate the commercial brand out of the five-gallon plastic tub that one purchases at the super market.  This would be potato salad in its lowest form.  It must be home made or at least from the gourmet deli.

I’m just a simple man with a sensitive palette.  I’ve travelled all over this great land of ours in search of the perfect potato salad.  Still, the Blue Ribbon goes to my dear old Mom.  There’s nothing fancy about it, just your basic boiled red bliss with a little red onion, olive oil, mayonnaise and a speckle of paprika.  If left to my own devices I also add a tinge of balsamic vinegar.   Perhaps it is just the rebel inside of me putting my generational stamp on the recipe.

I have tried to re-create that recipe to the letter, but some how it never comes out the same way.  Perhaps, when I turn my head she adds the secret ingredient that will be divulged in her last will and testament.  I can certainly wait since I have given up pretending to know how to cook.  Most likely it is a naturalness that many great cooks share, like a gardener with a green thumb.  The magic happens by itself and as fast as you can say lunch is served or come and get it, there it sits as the eatable centerpiece in the middle of the picnic table for the annual jubilee.

As the fireworks go off and all eyes are transfixed on the night time entertainment, I will use this little distraction to sneak off to the refrigerator for the leftovers, finish off the last morsel and start counting the days until next year.

June 27, 2010: The Sunday Morning Supplement: The Lost Lexicon of Romanticism 

In this overly conscious politically correct world we live in, there is sometimes a backlash.  We are so paranoid about saying the wrong thing.   I refer to the de-gendering of the word ‘actress’. So, being respectful of the PC society we are in, I ask you to allow me to have some indulgence when I use the word actress.  I know some of you PC’ers, may take umbrage, but I like the word and find it beautiful.  Isn’t that what an actress is, beautiful?  When I started my career the word was still in vogue.  Now the women are lumped in with the men.  I love the word actress; it is charming, radiant and has more power.  It’s a better word than actor.  Actor is generic and the male and female lose their identity due to the merging of the vernacular.  “Ooo!  The Merging of the Vernacular, let’s put that one into development Harry.”

I also like the word ‘waitress’.  It doesn’t sound condescending to me; I believe that is why people have walked away from it.  The current alternative, ‘server’ sounds much worse and lower on society’s scale, “Good evening, I’m Kay Francine, I’ll be your server tonight.”  Do you really prefer that?  Does Kay Francine even like saying that?

I used to wait tables back in the day and I hated those restaurants that had the policy of introducing yourself.  Let us now use the world has two kinds of people that come into a restaurant metaphor.  There are the people who hear your name and it leaves their head on contact, which are most people.  Then there are the other people who latch onto your name like a stray dog.  “Lenny, could we have some more bread?  Lenny, could we have some water?  Lenny, this is over cooked.  Lenny, why do you have that butcher’s knife in your hand?”

Did anyone ask the collective wait staff of the U.S. what they would like to be called?  I will accept server, because that is a mountain I am unwilling to climb.  As for the word actress, I will stand my ground on the basis of art and beauty.  It has more panache and eloquence; it is has charm and grace.  It even has more of a showbiz quality.  To me it’s a term of respect for the female artist.  When I think of Claudette Colbert and Rita Hayworth, I think actress.  It is the same today for Meryl Streep and Scarlett Johansen.

June 20, 2010: The Sunday Morning Supplement: Genius

The problem with genius is that society has to catch up to that mentality to appreciate it.  I can see why Van Gogh went over the edge.  It is difficult for the round pegs to live on this square earth.

If the talent is just ahead of their time or on the cusp of pop culture they rise to the top like ice in a glass of coke.  The Beatles, Brando, Picasso all had success early in life.  They all were talented people with something to offer the culture of their era.  The art of being in the right place at the right time also shouldn’t be under rated, not necessarily a trait of genius, but it doesn’t hurt.

Unfortunately, if one does reach the mega heights of intellectual or artistic creativity, one must be ready for the lack of appreciation by the masses.  If you are the first one to get to the party you have to wait for everyone else to show up before it starts, so to speak.

Oresen Welles was never given artistic freedom by the studios and John Cassavetes never got the acknowledgement for his work while he was alive, and has since become a cinema cult hero.  Is it because the general population can’t recognize it in the moment or is it even worse, we can’t make that decision for ourselves and need somebody else to tell us what is good.

As society has advanced and the collective awareness has grown, the line for understanding vision and creativity is getting thinner.  Some people are able to recognize and understand great works immediately.  It is possible for everyone to develop an appreciation for art, beauty and perfection; it just takes an open mind.

June 13, 2010: The Sunday Morning Supplement: Busting Writer’s Block

I am at the end of my third draft of my soon to be published book, The Untitled Lenny Manzo Project, which has been in limbo for the last week due to a common case of writer’s block.  This happens from time to time and the only cure for me is to mellow out and give it a rest.  The problem is that when I am in the middle of a may laze, I don’t know it.

It is not the traditional writer’s block that most writers get.  It is usually an all or nothing thing with most women or men of the pen.  I suffer from a rare form of the immobilizing affliction known as “Temporus Ecritus Interuptes.” a strain of writer’s block that I have named in honor of my own condition.   I am able to wade only through minimal amounts of text, it becomes so laborious due to over work, distractions and outside forces that conspire naturally against me.   No, not aliens.

Even though I enjoy the entire process from creation to editing, everything I’m writing sounds the same and I cannot differentiate what is good or bad.  That is because it is bad and I don’t know how to fix it.  I get lazy which leads to lethargy and that make me lazy. The only answer is to virtually crumple the paper and begin a new with more energy, like a Knute Rockne pep talk.

Even though I have built The Great Wall of China in my head, it is easily blown up when I see the light and I am able to punch through my self-made malady.   It does feel quite dark before the dawn and before I break through the haze feels like it’s going to last forever.  Then the epiphany comes, the cycle hums and I roar through thrashing the bad pages and consolidating the good ones.  Then I realize it isn’t as bad I thought and I am only a week away from finishing draft number three of my book.  Not unlike most Hollywood movies, this tale has a happy ending.

June 6, 2010: Sunday Morning Supplement: The Summer Night

The summer approaches, the season most of us wait for all year.  It usually seems over before it starts.  Memorial day kicks off the season, though it is a few weeks earlier than the official date, as Americans we always get a little extra out of something.

The days are filled with outdoor activities and water sports, and I enjoy a walk in the park and the beautiful sunshine, but my favorite thing is the summer night.  Growing up in Brooklyn there would be many a night I sat on the front stoop drinking a soda and when I was older a beer.  It is one of the most beautiful experiences in the city, to sit with a friend and talk and dream while looking at the stars during the deep humid nights.

As I got older I never tired of the stoop.  I have used the fire escape in a pinch, but the rooftop is also a magical place.  The city is overpowering in the day, so when the night comes in and the hands on the clock stand straight up, peace pervades the neighborhood and one can sit, think, and enjoy.

The later it got the more peaceful it became.  There are always sounds thorough out the night, a car going by or a dog barking, though never fully silent, around three in the morning the city simmers and it is at these moments I have been able to find clarity and vision.

May 30, 2010: Sunday Morning Supplement: Traffic

Traffic is the bane of modern man’s existence and a hell of a time suck.  I do my best to walk in between the raindrops.  I prefer to go against the grain and travel at off hours; running with the pack never helped the advancement of humanity.  Excuse me, I jumped onto a soapbox for a sec, I’ll just keep this to a straightforward traffic rant.

When the subject of traffic comes up it inevitably leads to the subject of road rage.  The car is a natural power elixir.  People who don’t have an aggressive bone in their body are empowered by their four-wheeled vehicles.  When two pedestrians bump into each other on the street they say, “Excuse me.”  If there is a near miss in a car there is a race for the middle finger.

Growing up in New York does have a few advantages.  I learned how to handle traffic with the dexterity of a lizard and to this day it is one of my best talents, along with making my way through a crowd.  I learned that trick as a bar boy in West Hampton.

I will always abort the highway if turns into a parking lot.  I’ll take the unknown option over a highway standstill any day.  I hold the modern record for driving down 2nd Avenue from Harlem to Chinatown after returning from a holiday weekend.  There is still a plaque on the wall of the Checker Cab Company in Midtown Manhattan with my picture on it.

Combine traffic with a 90-degree day without air conditioning and you have a recipe for disaster or good idea for a reality TV show.  Take a dozen people and hire them as messengers to drive around L.A.  Schedule the AC to blow on day three and you’ll have a hit show.

May 23, 2010: Sunday Morning Supplement: You Got a Minute?

It’s the 11th hour and I’m burning daylight trying to figure out today’s article. It has now become a times sensitive situation as I approach my self imposed dead line. With the clock ticking away I hope to get this in under the wire. It is true, time waits for no man, or woman. Time is not chivalrous or PC.

So, what is this crazy thing we call time. Some of us never seem to have any, while others have plenty on their hands. That is where people seem to keep it when they have it. In some circles it is a synonym for money. I think it is more of a commodity. We barter our time for money and our time is worth something. We usually combine it with skill and the employer gets both for the price of one.

Supposedly it moves at one speed but often we decide for ourselves how long our day is. Weather we believe it is illusion or not, it is agreed that it is at least relative to one’s situation. The day would breeze along hanging out on a beach in Tahiti, but would feel longer hanging by your thumbs in some medieval dungeon.

It is possible to bend time and slow it down, that can be done by changing your perspective on things. The biggest trick to bending time is to eliminate stress. Get rid of the stress and anxiety and even if you still can’t get everything done in a day at least you won’t care because you won’t be stressed. Now if you really want to alleviate stress, that’s easy, all you have to do is …

I’m sorry, I ran out of time.

May 9, 2010: Sunday Morning Supplement: A Moment for my Mom

It is May, the flowers are blooming, the birds are singing and it is Mother’s Day again. This Hallmark invented holiday has settled in all over the world.  Even though it was originally conceived as a greeting card moneymaker it is now a sincere homage that we make to mothers everywhere.

I spent many a Mother’s Day with my mother at my grandfather’s florist shop.  Along with Easter, Mother’s Day is the busiest day in the flower game.  We used to help out the old man year in year out.  It wasn’t the typical way to spend the holiday, but we had fun and spent the whole day together.

My mother would say, “who wants to go out to a restaurant today?  They’re all packed and you have to wait forever to get a table.”  Quite true, as it is the busiest restaurant day of the year, very few mothers cook today.  Everyone deserves at least one day off a year.

So, it doesn’t work out too badly that I live out of state.  I can call her on the phone and she has a rain check for a nice dinner some night soon when we can sit down easy enough and I can tell her that I love her.  Happy Mother’s Day Mom!

May 2, 2010: The Sunday Morning Supplement: Every Dog Has His Day

I took my dog to the vet the other day and it turned out that he tore his ACL.  It really wasn’t news to me as he tore the other one 2 years ago.  I sat in the vet’s office with all the other dog lovers.  They were all doting on each other’s dogs and making those cutesy utsy faces and noises.  I make no judgments, only observations.  You might have guessed that I am not exactly an animal person.

Of course I love my dog, he’s smart and loving.  It is through him that I learned unconditional love.  One time he was locked in the garage for 10 hours by accident.  When I let him out he was overjoyed to see me.  He didn’t hold it against me.  I’m sure if you did that to your spouse for 10 minutes she wouldn’t be so forgiving.  Oops, did I say she?

If humanity had half the loyalty that your average dog possessed, we would all be better for it.  One day over coffee the question came up, “does a dog experience love?”  The argument against was that the animal responds to you because you are feeding him.  I disagree, love is something that cannot be taught, love is instinctual, and when one receives love the natural response is to react in kind.

Ralph is my first dog, my only dog and my last dog.  No dog could ever replace Ralph and I wouldn’t begin to try.  It was through him that I learned about animals.  I understand them a little better and their daily struggles for survival.  They are beings just like the rest of us.  So when the doctor says, “Ralph is going to need an operation for that torn ACL,” what else can I do, but somehow scrape the money together.  I’m sure if he could he would do the same for me.

April 25, 2010: The Sunday Morning Supplement: My People’s People, The Final Push

I packed my bags preflight, zero hour, it’s here.  In less than 24 hours I’ll be on the set, making a movie.  This movie is only possible due to the goodwill of my friends, colleagues, and some new people I’ve met, who feel film and art are important.  As you read this column I’m still running around Boston picking up gear and dealing with a ton of minutia, that’s a lot of minutia.

Being Sunday, it is the last day before the bomb drops, D-day … scratch that, I need a more positive metaphor to inaugurate my shoot day tomorrow, I just don’t have time to figure one out.  I was up with the sun this morning and already I’m behind.  Such is the nature of movie making, especially low budget movie making where I’ve done everything from rehearsing the actors to buying the coffee.  It’s good coffee.

Crew call will be at 7 AM.  I can tell you the 7 AM call time is the most preferable. Starting at 8 AM puts people in traffic and starting at 6 AM puts people in bad moods.  Anything earlier than 7 AM would only be out of necessity due to extenuating circumstances.  The production staff will be there at 6:30 AM, to open the doors, make the coffee and organize the location before the crew steps onto the set.  I’m sure you’ve noticed the reoccurring coffee theme.  I do have a reputation to uphold.

By tonight all hatches will be battened and there is no turning back for this cowboy.  Tonight I do have a pre-shoot ritual planned to invoke the spirit of John Wayne.  It is a modern technique being taught only at the most prestigious film schools currently.  I’m trying to capture the spirit of Rooster Cogburn in True Grit.  If that doesn’t work I’ll just have a shot of whiskey.

Wish me luck and I’ll let you know what happened.  The best case scenario is that I’ll have no crazy anecdotes to report as everything will have gone according to plan.

April 18, 2010: The Sunday Morning Supplement: The Homogenization of America

In the modern era in which we live, the country is becoming one big melting pot, but not where cultures are coming together.  It is fast becoming a place where individuality is taking a backseat.  Due to the Internet and cable television, everyone is getting all the new information about products and fashion at the same time.  That means as soon as fashion hits New York, they are already wearing it in Des Moines.

America the beautiful has become one strip mall after another from Portland Maine to Portland Oregon.  We all go to the same stores whether we’re in Baton Rouge, Tucson or Sacramento.  We get our clothes from Macy’s or Kohl’s.  We build and repair our homes from Home Depot and buy our electronics from Best Buy.  Everywhere I go there’s a Subway or a Starbucks.  We have lost our individuality amid the corporate culture that our society embraces.

For many years, retail businesses were driven by the individual owner operator.  The individual after raising a few bucks and ready to put in a ton of sweat equity, could make his or her way by selling hardware, furniture, auto parts or anything else.  That is no longer the case as everything is corporate owned.  Due to the lack of individuality in our retail stores combined with the speed at which fashion travels, everyone everywhere is buying, using and wearing the same stuff.

There is a small percentage of the population that still seeks out the human factor when doing business.  They still believe in craftsmanship and an individual’s efforts to create something of quality.  Though we may all agree that something handmade is preferable and better to something corporately made, we find ourselves lacking the time or energy to pursue the minority businessman.  Convenience and cost out weighs quality and uniqueness.

The homogenization isn’t just limited to America.  In countries as diverse as India, they all want the same things we have here in the western world, Blackberrys, iPods, Nikes and Levis.  Eventually the whole world will be speaking English, watching the next wave of CSI and of course shopping at Bed Bath and Beyond.

April 11, 2010: The Sunday Morning Supplement: The Early Days of Coffee

In the Roman days the messenger was often killed when returning late from a coffee run.  It wasn’t found out until years later that one of the early-executed coffee messengers had the original plans to lay out the very first coffee chain.  He had spent too much time designing the plan and preparing a marketing campaign.  He arrived back to the campsite with the good news, but before he could say a word he was greeted by the sword.

The plans dropped from his arms and were later picked up by the gravedigger.  He was illiterate but liked the pictures and circles and arrows.  It ended up as part of a lining for his wagon.  Those plans laid dormant for 1600 years until a small boy stumbled upon this broken down wagon that some how had made it to Istanbul.  He puttered around the wagon and discovered the plans in pretty good condition, which he gave to his mother for a birthday present.  She used it as wallpaper for their home and it was passed down for generations, as a valuable antique because that boy went on to be a famous wallpaper designer.  It was enshrined in a Museum as the inspiration for his career.  The plans were lost again during the fall of the Ottoman Empire.  It turned out they were actually smuggled out of Turkey in an ottoman that turned up in an antique shop owned by Sydney Greenstreet in Liverpool, post World War II.

In the late 60’s again a small boy on vacation with his mother purchased the ottoman for a father’s day present.  They brought it back to Seattle where they lived and surprise dear old Dad for Father’s Day.  The father had an intuition about the gift, he didn’t know what, but after he opened his present he knew that his life would change forever because of it.

A couple years later the cat was played with a loose thread until the ottoman split open.  The father was angered initially but soon discovered the plans concealed in the ottoman.  As luck would have it he had studied Latin at the Spencer Tracy School for Boys in Boise Idaho, and was able to read the plans.  He immediately understood the genius of those plans and thus the first Starbucks was born.

April 4, 2010: The Sunday Morning Supplement: Play Ball!

Tonight it starts all over again as the boys of summer take the field.  Baseball begins with a bang as the Bronx Bombers take on the Boston Red Sox.  What better way to start the season than to kick it off with the greatest rivalry in American sports.

Baseball has held a place in my heart since my early childhood and this love affair continues today.  When I’m sitting in the stands sipping a beer and munching on some peanuts I can feel the timelessness of the game.  Sure the game has gone through changes but it still comes down to 40 thousand people waiting for some big guy to hit the ball over the wall.  If that isn’t sheer bliss I don’t know what is.

The politics and money that surround the game can be daunting at times.  Nothing hurts like losing your favorite player to free agency or a 3-way trade for a bag of balls and a player to be named later.  The salaries are still hard for the average Joe to handle, but from the Star Spangled banner to the last out all that drama goes away as we root for our boys to beat the pants off the bums from out of town.

In recent years there have been some complaint at the length of the game, I am not one of these naysayers.  I want more bang for the buck, I love a long game, and as the saying goes from the dawn of time or at least baseball, “I don’t care if I ever get back.”

March 28, 2010: The Sunday Morning Supplement: The Good News and the Bad News

First the good news, the good news is I broke my writer’s block for my Sunday article, the bad news is it’s Saturday night and I’m scrambling to write this.  In the movies the bad news is always given second, that’s what make the punch line.  Sometimes the good news is also the bad news and sometimes we think we hear the bad news first only to find out that was the good news.

If you go to your mail box and you open an unexpected bill for 12 hundred bucks then likewise a surprised windfall for 15 hundred, you go on with your day content that magically you are three hundred dollars in the black.  If you do it in reverse order you are bummed that your good fortune was gobbled up so abruptly and as you go on with your day the mail has left a sour experience in your mouth.

Sometimes we don’t’ know good news from bad news.  Once I was driving down the street and kid came running out into the street, bad news.  I swerved and missed the young lad, good news.   I did smash into a pole, bad news.  Waiting at a bar for the tow truck driver I met a colleague who needed me for a job, good news.  On the job I slipped on the ice, bad news.  I got workman’s comp for three months, good news.

The good news for me is that I don’t get too excited anymore about good news as it is fleeting and we don’t really know how good it is in the moment.  The bad news is that it is still not as easy to see the good in the bad moment.

The good news is that you’ve read my article; the bad news is that I’ve run out of things to say.  The good news is you can come back tomorrow; the bad news is you may be distracted.  The good news is there’s always another day.  I’ll stop right there and leave you on a good note since it is some how all the same in the end.

March 21, 2010: The Sunday Morning Supplement: Spring Has Sprung

There is no doubt about it spring is in the air.  Sure it may be fleeting as the cold rain and snow could pop back in for a visit.  As of now there are no chilly winds blowing and the sun is shining out my back door.  Fleeting as it may be I’ll take what I can get when I can get it.

I didn’t get much done yesterday, just did the proverbial flower smelling and of course coffee drinking.  I’ve always felt my lattes taste better in nice weather.  I opened up all the windows and let the fresh breeze into the house.  That will be the extent of my spring-cleaning.

It is this time of year I start to feel alive knowing most of the hard weather is behind me and each day gets longer and longer.  Spring is about beginnings and it really hits home this time of year as I am getting several projects up and running.  All the groundwork I have laid during the winter is coming to fruition now.

The great thing about life is that no matter how much you screw it up, one eventually gets a chance to start over again.  Spring symbolizes that hope for life and humanity.  As I walked around yesterday I noticed people were smiling and there was a bounce that wasn’t there before.  The winter is now technically buried and spring offers us inspiration and encouragement.  Ladies and gentleman lets give a warm welcome for the return of spring.

March 14, 2010: The Sunday Morning Supplement: A Look at Daylight Savings Time

Day light savings time is here and it never ceases to confuse the masses.  Do we gain an hour or do we lose an hour?  You know I rarely like to use a cliché but if the shoe fits wear it: spring ahead and fall back.  It really is that simple in the spring we push the clock ahead and the in the fall we rewind.

Today I’m faced with people around me making references to Saturday’s time.  “You know if it was yesterday we wouldn’t be awake yet.  It’s 5:00 but it really only feels like 4:00.  If it was yesterday…” If it was yesterday it wouldn’t be today, I try to adapt right away.

The sticky part of it is what we actually gain and lose.  Day light savings time “saves” us an hour of day light at night, which affords us long summer days.  We do pay for it slightly as we lose our morning sun.  The days do get longer and eventually we get back our early morning sunrise.  The good people of Arizona pass on the national shift of DLS, they have all the sun they can handle and can’t wait for it to go down and cool off to 90 degrees.

We do lose an hour but it gets paid back in the fall.  I have had to work on a Sunday morning after the clocks were changed, that’s when I feel cheated.  Then I’m losing an hour of sleep, I could go to sleep earlier but then I’m losing an hour of my life.

March 7, 2010: The Sunday Morning Supplement:  It’s Oscar Tonight

The biggest night in Hollywood is upon us and there is one question on my mind.  Can this awards show get any worse? Last year I hopped back and fourth from the Oscars to a Jackie Chan movie.  I usually enjoy the opening monologue and this year offers a ray of hope as Steve Martin and Alec Baldwin doubly host the event, both men could be very funny.

It is the age-old problem of trying to fit two pounds of bologna in a one-pound bag; there is so much to do and not enough time to do it.  Years ago there were less limitations and though we usually didn’t find out the best picture until two in the morning east coast time, there was a spontaneity that allowed for humor and fun for the participants.   And since Susan Sarandon said something with political agenda all the presenters have been bound to a script.  They do try to add some entertainment in between the awards, which has a similar feel to a college football halftime show in the sixties.

This year’s gimmick is ten nominees for best picture.  I have often felt it a struggle for them to find five.  Is this a way the studios can make more money?  Now there are more movies necessary to see by Oscar night.  Last year’s gimmick was a This Is Your Life typehomage to all the best actor/actress nominees, that was one serious sedative.  Good thing Jackie Chan was bailing me out on my DVD player.

It’s not that I’m against the Oscars, who wouldn’t want to win one.  I hear it does wonders for the day rate.  The show itself has morphed into one of the dullest spectacles on television.  Of course I’ll watch it anyway, and maybe this is the year they figure it out.  Maybe this is the year the show is so dynamic and entertaining it will be the benchmark for future award shows everywhere.  My realistic hope is that I don’t fall asleep before they hand out the award for Best Picture.

February 28, 2010: The Sunday Morning Supplement: The Ever Changing Medium of Communication

We have never had so many options to get in touch with someone.  To say the line was busy is just not going to cut it any more.  If you want to avoid contact you are going to have to do better than that.  That is one reason email had been embraced, we can deal with our responsibilities painlessly, “thanks for the card Mom, tell Dad I said hi.”

The art of letter writing commonly referred to as snail mail is surely dead as bell-bottoms, which make an odd appearance back into our culture from time to time, but no matter what, the bell-bottom like letter writing will never catch fire again.  Don’t kid yourself and say it is the same as an email, maybe for separated lovers who pour their hearts out in the middle of the night.

Outside of avoiding people email serves a great purpose for quick information and is extremely helpful in business as we can cut right to the chase.  I do have one friend who refuses to use email and must be called.  Why telephone technology is acceptable to him strikes me as odd.  I would ask him but the line is always busy.

Texting has different uses for different generations and I’m not sure exactly where that line is drawn.  The older crowd uses it for quick info, “see you at ten,” “Honey can you bring home the milk.”  The younger generation carries out full-blown conversations to the point of breaking up relationships.

As someone who isn’t young it took a bit to break in to all the new forms of correspondence and there was a learning curve until I got a handle on them, except for instant chat.  I have shut down all opportunities for people to just pop into my world unannounced and expect to converse.  I did some brief experimenting with it and have found that it is used for making small talk with out really having anything to say, communication for the sake of.

Even though we have more ways to get in touch and express ourselves I do prefer the old fashion way of direct human contact.  That is when people get together and meet in their homes or a public place to enjoy each other’s company and in my case share a cup of coffee.  In today’s society of the ever-evolving cyber hermit, the human touch is becoming under rated and potentially falling the way of the letter.

February 21, 2010: Sunday Morning Supplement: Coffee Mojo and the Cafe

A key facet of the coffee ritual is the social aspect.  It brings people together.  We don’t say “let’s get together for a bottle of soda, a drink of milk or a glass of juice.”  We say, “Do you want to get together over coffee?”  It is over coffee that we can plan our business, patch up a friendship and talk about old times or dream of the future.  Socially coffee is at the center of the world, which is not a modern occurrence, people have been rejoicing in coffee for years.  Some cultures have even used it in spiritual ceremonies.  It is undeniable that society worldwide has embraced the black bean.

Besides being served coffee by a friend the best thing is the café experience.  The café raises the level of the ritual.  It’s one of the few drinks that establishments have grown around.  Sure you can get other drinks there but if you take the coffee away it becomes something else.  Clearly the café revolves around the coffee.  In some languages coffee and café are the same word.  The café is essential when drinking espresso, I love to sit in my local café in the back booth and watch the world go by. The encounter only deepens as you add music, a few cozy chairs and some good pastries.

The ideal time for an interlude with my liquid mistress at the café is early afternoon.  I either have a double or triple latte depending on my mood and the day’s parameters.  It inspires me to think and create as I partake in my favorite drink.  Coffee is always included in the creative process whether in business or art.  Honore de Balzac would stay up all night drinking strong hot coffee creating characters and laying down great prose from his ink well.  It worked for Balzac it works for me.
February 14, 2010: Sunday Morning Supplement: My Homage to Love

Today we celebrate Valentine’s Day and pay homage to love and its powers.  We indulge in flowers, candy and cards.  For the young man it is an excuse to dote on his lover.  For the old man it is an obligation to keep him out of trouble.

I am not as cynical as I sound.  I believe in love and what it can do.  It breathes life and vitality into a body.  Love makes us stronger and motivates us, what was impossible before is totally doable now.  Love however, can be illusive.  At first we can’t find it, then we give up on it and then it hits us when we aren’t looking.  We’ve all watched enough movies to know that.

Another side of love is that once we have it we forget what it was like to go without it.  We forget that love filled a void in our life.  We forget how we felt many years ago when we were excited about love and it moved our hearts.  The weight of the world bears down on us with its challenges, obligations and responsibilities and we lose touch with that spring called love we once drank from with such pleasure.

If you are young and in love you don’t need my words of encouragement but remember this day and how you feel and carry that feeling every day because there is nothing like being in love.  Still the most powerful of all emotions and real love is the most valuable thing we can ever have.

February 7, 2010: The Sunday Morning Supplement: Super Bowl Sunday The People’s Holiday

The single most popular sporting event in the country is upon us.  Nothing comes close to the domination that pervades American society like the Super bowl.  This stretches beyond the sport itself, it is no longer just a game and hasn’t been for a while.  At one time the game was just an excuse for a party, now the Super bowl has expanded into a full-blown Holiday.

By default it is already on a day that most people don’t work.  It is the biggest television audience of the year and it is no longer just watched by football fans. There’s a small film festival that goes on through out the game, where big companies vie for the best 30-second spot at 3 million a pop.  It is the only time anyone gives a rat’s something or other about a commercial.

The biggest musical acts entertain at halftime, this year The Who is playing, in year’s past you’ve seen The Rolling Stones, Bruce Springsteen, the artist formerly known as Prince, now known as Prince again, Paul McCartney, Stevie Wonder and Janet Jackson’s breast, the nipple that shocked the world.  The Super Bowl is at the zenith of pop culture and without a doubt a holiday.  Maybe not officially recognized by the government but it is recognized by the people.  It is not only a holiday it may be our biggest one; the Super bowl transcends the game of football.

I’ve been to some Super bowl parties and I have had some of my own.  I’ve watched the game since Joe Willie guaranteed victory for the New York Jets in 1969. A day when Americans come together for one big bash and give into the moment. Food has been eaten, money has exchanged hands and beer has been drunk. A small blip in the year when people immerse themselves into the party they have chosen to be theirs.  Today by popular choice I give you the People’s Holiday, The Super bowl.

January 31, 2010: Sunday Morning Supplement: Coffee Mojo Part I

I love coffee, as I expect that most people who drink it also love it.  As with anything in life it seems to break down into two categories, there are two kinds of coffee drinkers, the ones who love it and the ones who really love it.  I am here today to talk about the ones who really love it and why it is loved.  That group would include me.

First off I need to break a fallacy about us coffee aficionados.  We are often classified as snobs, because we only frequent certain so-called high falluttin’ coffee establishments or because we just brew high-end beans at home.  Yes, it is true that we are in search for the highest quality product.  However, we are not exclusive, anyone and everyone is invited to our elite club.  It only asks that you love coffee, a real true love.  One who relishes the morning thunder sip by sip.  One who finds the aroma intoxicating.  And one who passes the coffee through his or her lips with pure unadulterated bliss.

How do we know if we really love coffee?  I can tell you, you know.  It goes beyond the drink itself.  It is not just a drink it is a ritual and different for everyone.  The first ritual of the day is the newspaper, sometimes a cigarette and obviously with the coffee.  Many enjoy the morning scene with coffee, which gives us a warm nurturing feeling as we plan out our day and see what has happened in the world over night.  Some of the coffee drinking populace wakes up an hour earlier before work to revel in the Joe first thing.   They make sure there is enough time to savor the wake up ritual, a chance to slow down the world and bask in the delight of absorbing both news and coffee.

Sharing the morning enhances the ritual. What a pleasure to walk into a friend’s house early Sunday morning and smell that sweet ambrosia brewing in the kitchen.  That is when it becomes more of a ritual when someone else enters the picture and you are sharing coffee from the same pot.  I always find it a beautiful gesture when someone offers to make me a cup of coffee.  It shows not only a level of care, but love.  Ray Charles has a song called Hallelujah, I Love Her So, “Let me tell you ’bout a girl I know, she is my baby and she lives next door.  Every mornin’ ‘fore the sun comes up, she brings me coffee in my favorite cup.  That’s how I know, yes, I know, Hallelujah, I just love her so.”  Could anything show more love and passion than this act by a lover?

Coffee Mojo is a continuing series to share the passion for coffee.

January 24, 2010: Sunday Morning Supplement

This pass week I had several phone calls from some pretty high status celebrities.  Curt Schilling called first and then the Big Cheese himself, Barak Obama gave me a ding.  You won’t believe it; I hung up on both of them.  Would that be construed as a bi-partisan hang-up?

The recent Senate race that vied for the beloved Ted Kennedy’s seat was hot and heavy and many of the candidates felt a personalized message from a machine will talk me into voting for their respective party.  You may have thought that this was going to be a political rant, fear not my Sunday Morning Supporters I am here to talk about the machine.

In this ever-getting faster paced world in which we live there is less and less time for real conversation.  I guess they are doing me a favor, when the machine calls I can hang-up immediately, “Hi, this is Curt Schilling and I am here t…” click!  Clearly your time is worth far more than my time.  If you don’t have the common decency to talk to me I cannot grant any kind of respect to the machine you’ve sent in your place whether you are have an olive branch or not.

Technology is here to stay so I accept and embrace it.  What I can’t support is the already watered down human contact that society pushes.  So when Barak Obama calls you and it is not the McCoy just hang up.

January 17, 2010: The Sunday Morning Supplement: The Philosophy of Cool

How do we know we are cool? The cool people who are cool know they are, it is just something one knows. However, the uncool people also think they are cool.  They try to act cool because they want to be cool.  You can’t act cool because either you are or you are not.  If you’re not cool it is highly unlikely that you will ever be.  It is not something you can want or achieve it something that just is.

One way to identify if your cool is to identify other cool people and they will confirm that your cool, that is if you need that confirmation.  If you need that confirmation then you are probably not cool.  Cool is a state of mind and if that’s not your state of mind that’s cool.  If everyone were cool nobody would be cool.

Cool emeinates from the inside out.  Most people who try to be cool start with the periphary and don’t take it to the core of their being.  That is the big mistake of the uncool.  This type of behavoir is easily identified by the cool.  You can’t fool cool.

There is also old cool and modern cool.  The first generation of cool were your beatnicks, which rolled into the hippie era, which has morphed over the years.  Now some of the older folks have definitely lost their cool and conversely the younger folks their cooler than older generation, which is true to a certain extent, cool however, is cross generational and those who limit it to their own generation are obviously uncool.

Life just constantly breaks down to things, cool and uncool, that statement is actually not that cool but it’s not uncool.  So if you’re cool, that’s cool, if not don’t worry that’s cool.  Fortunately I’m cool.
January 10, 2010: The Sunday Morning Supplement

To inaugurate the Sunday Morning Supplement I best start with the inspiration for it.  Every day of the week has its own personality.  Monday has got the worst rep in the bunch.  There is usually some type of groan uttered when Monday is mentioned.  There is another side of Monday, known by an eclectic few.  It can be auspicious, as we start new projects first thing Monday morning.

Tuesday, a day of acceptance, we are headlong into the week so we don’t give Tuesday a hard time.  It is still a long way from Friday but, we have a day under the belt.  Wednesday there’s hustle and bustle and a glimmer of light shining toward the weekend.  Thursday there’s a spring our step as Friday looms, the wildest day of the week, perhaps a bit shady, as deals struck and compromises are made to get out of the office for Happy Hour.  Saturday is just as sweet as a day could be slapped smacked dab in the middle of the weekend.  Saturday is a day of freedom and choices, it is our oyster.  On Saturdays we call the shots.

Now we get to Sunday, the whole point of this diatribe.  Sunday has serenity about it, no doubt ramifications that from the Pilgrims.  No matter what your pious views may be, it cannot be denied that Sunday is different and as the French say “Viva la difference.”

It is this weekly mood shift that has inspired me to go off topic on Sundays.  The Sunday Morning Supplement will start its journey and begin its infinite growth today.  Oh Sunday, don’t ever change.