Sniggerlings: Chinese Spit Water Torture?

Chinese Spit Water Torture?

I’m going tomorrow to see a new dentist after six or seven years’ absence from the needle and drill.  He was referred to me by my dental plan.  It didn’t dawn on me that there was anything humorous about the situation until I was telling my dear wife about it.  She asked me his name.  I replied, “Dr. Oh.”  This seems like a bad omen.  I guess it’s better than Dr. Ow.  And then there was the few moments -- until I checked -- that I confused the spelling of his name.  I thought I remembered that his name was Dr. Ho.  I don’t think that would have been any better. I talked to him; he seems like a nice guy.mm

I Was Part of NFL History

NFL History

      I was watching the Denver Broncos-Indianapolis Colts game last Sunday, September 7, when I learned that I was a part of NFL history. It’s true.

      The Broncos took a large lead into the fourth quarter, and the Colts mounted a ferocious rally to just miss winning. Late in the fourth quarter one of the announcers felt duty bound to drag out the history of the Denver Broncos and large fourth quarter leads. He said that in Denver Bronco NFL history the Broncos had never lost when leading in the fourth quarter by 17 or more points. Their record, he said, was something like 147 wins and one tie.

      I did a double take. I was there for the tie. In 1969. That’s right. I looked it up. I was a Houston Oiler fan in 1969, having grown up in Houston and watched them play in Rice stadium in the old AFL before the merger of the two leagues. Then I went to college in Denver in 1968. In 1969, my best friend, a Bronco fan, and his girlfriend(soon to become his wife) paid for the three of us to go sit in the notorious end zone seats and watch the game as a birthday present for me. My birthday is November 16. The game happened to be played on my birthday.

      Well, the game was pretty dull with the Broncos taking a big lead into the fourth quarter. I think the score was 20-3. But then the Oilers(with the help of at least one questionable call) started to catch up. They scored and scored again and tied it up at 20-20.

      Now was my time. I yelled my fool head off in the wrong end zone. People told me to “Shut up, Tex!” and threw cups of soda on me(I hope it was soda.) This was music to the ears of an Oiler fan. The rest of the stadium was pretty quiet. I think I’m lucky it was a tie; an Oiler win and I might have been swinging from the goal posts.

      I checked this out on Wikipedia: November 16, 1969 vs. Houston Oilers in Mile High Stadium. Broncos 20 Houston 20. This was the game mentioned forty-five years later, and I was there -- and now you were there, too.

      By the way, I was best man at my friend’s wedding in Lander, Wyoming, two years later. He didn’t hold a grudge.mm

"Humble P-a-a-h!"

Humble P-a-a-h!

      [By the way, How do you spell "pie" like a southern fan of cobblers and pastries would say it. The title is my linguistic attempt to wrap my fingers around the diphthongs, monophthongs, triphthongs, consonants, vowels, and mouth watering I heard as a little pie-eater growing up in East Texas.]

      The Good Lord has often tried to keep me humble. He’s the only one who can. Unfortunately, I am of the frame of mind that nothing man can say can shake my confidence in myself , so somebody supernatural has to do it. Hey, don’t look superior!. You’re the same way, too. Don’t you really feel deep down inside that the world’s problems are really somebody else’s fault and even your own shortcomings are basically a matter of others misunderstanding the real you? T.S. Eliot knew about being misunderstood, in his poem “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock”:

      “That is not it!” and “That is not it at all!”

      Don’t you have the sneakin’ suspicion that, if the powers-that-be would surrender their knuckleheaded authority for a second, you could straighten out a lot of the world’s problems pretty quickly or at least slow down the world’s rush to self-erasure from the Blackboard of life?

      Yeah, me, too. That’s one reason I need the Good Lord to thump my noggin every once in a while. And so He did recently.

      I had been feeling lively about memorizing the books of the Bible. One day, I picked up my Bible to look up something in Matthew(You know, that’s the first book of the New Testament!) when I decided to play a game. I would just put my finger between the pages at the point I -- with my newly acquired expertise -- would estimate Matthew to be. Then I would flip it open to see how close I had come.

      So I did. Result: I had the book upside down. I think I came out near Zephaniah or “hainahpeZ“. In my ear I heard a little “Hee Hee”, but there was no one else in the room.

      Step 1 to reading the Bible[and you don‘t hear Bible writers saying a whole lot about this]: Arrange the book so that it is right side up.

      p.s., unless you’re reading Hebrew, then right side up is upside down and backwards.

      p.p.s., I’m glad I wrote this. I did not know that phthongs came in several flavors -- mono, di, and tri. Sort of like glycerides in my blood stream.mm

A Wicked Sense of Humor

A Wicked Sense of Humor

      I’ve maintained for years that God(the God that I’m still coming to know personally, the Christian God) has an impish sense of humor. I’ve seen too many coincidental pranks in my life that could be explained by that hypothesis better than by any other rational theory I could see. Take what happened to me tonight.

      I’m brushing my teeth and watching TV. I decide to check the local news(which I never do) ‘cause no baseball during All-Star week(I don’t consider the All-Star game real baseball) and I’ve gone through all the Leave it to Beaver reruns on MeTV. So the only news on at 11:00 is channel 5. I almost never watch the local stations unless I need a baseball score, but it turns out Channel 5 is the only station with news at that time. So I go for it. I recommend the Weather Girl on that station, by the way, Libertie Something-or-other, but you can have the others.

      I’m flossing and can’t change the channels without cutting off the circulation in my fingers. I’m a captive audience.

      So the news goes off, and on comes Arsenio Hall! What the Hey! I haven’t watched Arsenio since what? The ‘80’s? And then it was to give the man a fair chance, which took ten minutes. Ronald Reagan was president, for Gosh Sakes.

      Not through yet.

      He came on looking like he did in the ‘80s but not with as much energy as back then. Then he started his monologue, which I can’t recommend. The first two jokes were Peyton Manning jokes. What the Hey! I read Peyton Manning just gave some sick kid his dream by showing up at his bedside or something. What’s so funny about that?

      Then I realized Arsenio was making jokes about the just-ended Super Bowl. This was a rerun from last February! OmyGod! I got to sit and listen to this? For those who don’t know, I’m a suffering Broncos fan for forty years( I skipped a couple of years of suffering in the Nineties.) To top it off, A. Hall had to remind me that the score was 43-8, numbers I had cut out of my brain months ago. God had to be teasing me. What are the chances I catch Arsenio reruns of the day after the Super Bowl on local news? Astronomical!

      I quote Stephen Hawking, who quoted Albert Einstein, “…Einstein never accepted that the Universe was governed by chance. His feelings were summed up in his famous statement ‘God does not play dice.’” But I contend that he does play.mm

      p.s.My second choice theory is that I’m on a an episode of Twilight Zone. If I turn the TV on late tomorrow and any other Broncos Super Bowl disasters are highlighted by somebody like Johnny Carson or Dick Cavett, I’ll let you know, apologize to the good Lord, and pray like Heck for a commercial break.mm

Sniggerlings: My wife's cat as Movie Critic

Sniggerlings:  My wife's cat as Movie Critic.

 



 

      I recently rearranged my DVD’s so that my prized collection of Charlie Chan movies were on the floor. Next day I noticed that the boxes had been knocked over. Same thing the following day. The only possible culprit was my wife’s cat, Mikey. I asked my wife why Mikey would do something like that, noting that perhaps I had placed the DVD’s close to the spot where Mikey likes to poop on the carpet(she has learned to avoid her litter box like Malaysian Flight 777 has avoided air traffic controllers.)

      “Well, she’s still has to go pee somewhere.” I think my wife, Sandy, was joking.mm



Sniggerlings: "Raging Bull"

Sniggerlings: Raging Bull

      If you all are interested in Classic movies, classic TV, and boxing, I have a treat for you. I just saw Jake LaMotta -- “The Raging Bull” -- on an episode of Car 54, Where are You” on MeTV. He played Bugsy, a number two thug in a “gang that couldn’t shoot straight” comic episode entitled “I‘ve Been Here Before“(airing originally January 10, 1963.)

      For those of you currently desiring a quickie education in the topics mentioned above, I’ll fill you in. First, Jake La Motta was World Middleweight Champion from 1949 to 1951. His life was portrayed in the movie Raging Bull by Robert De Niro, who won the Academy Award for Best Actor as La Motta in 1980. Along with a career in boxing, he also has survived seven wives(Wikipedia 2/15/14) and admitting that he threw a fight for the Mafia in 1947.

      Car 54, Where are You?  was a sitcom on ABC from 1961 to 1963. It was about a fictional police department in the Bronx, NY. It was filmed at the Old Biograph studios in the Bronx, which was built in 1912 and was patterned on the Edison studios’ “Black Maria” in West Orange, New Jersey(it was to avoid patent infringement lawsuits from Edison that DeMille, Goldwyn, and others came west to a place previously unheard of, named Hollywood.) D.W. Griffiths filmed at Biograph with actors like Mary Pickford and the Barrymores and directors like Mack Sennett -- whose “Keystone Cops” were undoubtedly a model for Car 54. Note: When you think of Sennett, think of his protégé, a poorly dressed fellow named Charlie Chaplin(see United Artists.)(Wikipedia 2/15/14.)

      I also saw an episode of The Untouchables on TV from about 1959, in which Claire Trevor -- one of my favorite actresses -- portrayed Ma Barker, in a frightening tour de force. Ma Barker was the mother of a gang of bank robbers and murderers in the Thirties, who violently and successfully plied their craft until Ma sent her oldest boy in Chicago a cake for his birthday and Eliot Ness tracked it back to her hideout in Florida. Then Tommy guns and hand grenades and waves of Federal agents.

      Claire Trevor was John Wayne’s love interest in the classic John Ford western Stagecoach in 1939 and an aging gangster’s moll to Edward G. Robinson in Key Largo, opposite the married Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall. She won the Academy Award in about 1947 for Best Supporting Actress in that movie. She was a successful radio personality, an Emmy winner, and one of the most beautiful women I ever saw. And smart as Hell.(Wikipedia 2/15/14.)
mm

"Waiting for the Super Bowl"

Waiting for the Super Bowl

      I took a nap about 8:00 this evening. When I woke up, I had the strangest feeling that I was ready for the Super Bowl to begin. Then I realized that it -- or something like a Super Bowl -- had already been played. Bruno Mars sang; so did Queen Latifah. But if it happened, it had been mostly played in some unreal way. I felt like the couple in the episode of The Twilight Zone, who woke up in a strange town and discovered that the trees were artificial, the people were manikins, and the train made one stop -- back at the same station it had started at. Surely, the real Super bowl was about to begin.

      But soon the quiet concern with which my dear wife(a Seahawks fan) did not mention the game to me, together with a distorted collection of memories of East Rutherford, New Jersey, began to bring my senses back into line with reality. There had been a Super Bowl, but only one team showed up. I longed to climb into my DeLorean and dial back in time to January 19, 2014, to the exact moment when the universe diverged into two separate realities and then redirect Marty and me to the time when the not-so-evil Biff is washing cars and the Super Bowl is about to begin. The football has not yet sailed over Peyton Manning’s head and anything can happen. But…I don’t have a DeLorean, and that accessory on my ‘95 Thunderbird stopped working years ago, with the brake lights.

      Yes, Virginia, there had been a Super Bowl, and my Broncos played like the Washington Generals versus the Harlem Globetrotters. At least the Globetrotters let the Generals score once in a while. 43 to 8! What in the world! I began to look for an excuse for this embarrassing outcome. For example, I don’t think the real Peyton Manning showed up. I think the guy wearing number 18 should be DNA tested or drug tested or both.

      Because I had previously asserted that this was the Broncos of the ’90’s(2 Super Bowl wins), after the game one fellow fan responded to my previous blog by asking me whether this game reminded me of the Broncos in the ‘80’s instead(3 Super Bowl losses.) He was right. This game did remind me of the Broncos of the ’80’s and the ’70’s: Super Bowl XII: Cowboys 27 - Broncos 10; Super Bowl XXI: Giants 39 - Broncos 20; Super Bowl XXII: Redskins 42 - Broncos 10; Super Bowl XXIV: 49ers 55 - Broncos 10(Heck, the Broncos didn’t even score their usual 10 points in Super Bowl XLVIII.)

      I note that you can see the Broncos’ loss differential getting steadily worse. They lost by 17 points in 1978 and then by 19, 32, and 45. One bright spot is that the Broncos only lost this Super Bowl by 35 points, so improvement from 1990. 10 points improvement in 24 years. By that fact, we can see the Broncos breaking even by 2098 in Super Bowl CXXXII. So there is something to celebrate and to look forward to.

      But I digress.

      Another possibility that might explain to the superstitious the loss in today’s Super Bowl is that I was personally jinxed by a well meaning loved one who gave me a John Elway jersey from the ‘80’s not the ‘90’s for my birthday. I am not superstitious and love my jersey, which has barbecue rib, ketchup, and glazed donut stains all over it. But it makes you wonder. … diabolical(?!)

      More seriously, though, let me confess that my “scientific” proof of the score being 33-13 Broncos was tongue in cheek. I’m sure most people immediately realized that the coincidence that the Chinese New Year had just occurred and that this is the year of the Horse is no scientific proof of anything. Neither is my backing into the 33 - 13 number by choosing an over/under score of 46 and then multiplying the also coincidental percentage of 71% of old hand victors versus newbies times the 46 to get 33 - 13. But it looked good. So much so that I got a little out of hand discussing Champ Bailey and Knowshon Moreno, et al.

      Feeling a little guilty, I did straddle the fence on this game by providing my Facebook friends with a statistically verifiable estimate of the eventual score from my alter ego, Arnold: Seahawks 27 - Broncos 16. I did this at 2:00 a.m. before the game, and Arnold was prescient, as he warned us that the game would go the Seahawks way due to turnovers. I didn’t want to hear it, but there it is. By the way, a couple of the numbers in my spreadsheet were incorrectly put in, so before the game I recalculated it. Arnold’s final number as of noon of game day was Seahawks 28 - Broncos 15.

      The game went as Arnold predicted. From my viewpoint, the Seattle defense defanged the “greatest passing offense in history” by smothering Eric Decker with Richard Sherman, forcing Demaryius Thomas to go long in the face of coverage from Maxwell and Kam Chancellor(who was the guy I had most respect for), and mugging Thomas if he went over the middle. I’m not complaining; that’s the way it’s done -- I’ve seen the Broncos do it, too. They got enough of a rush to hurry Peyton, who threw some bad passes.  The Seahawks also did not draw into a shell but continued to pass even with a 29 point lead. With a huge Quarterback rating(127?), I think Russell Wilson should have been MVP.

      Wes Welker(84 yards) and Demaryius(118 yards) had good days despite that. Where was Julius Thomas? The Broncos defense handled Lynch very well and the rest of the offense well. Manning had an okay day with 280 yards passing. But it has always been very hard for a team to move the ball when it cannot run because of lack of time, and this was the Broncos’ situation.

      In Manning’s case, I’m reminded of the famous line from A Raisin in the Sun, a Broadway play and movie by Lorraine Hansberry about a black family that comes into some money. The young man of the family gets into trouble, like Peyton did today, and -- rather than condemning him -- the mother says, “When’s the time to love someone? When they done good? Or..”. I still love Peyton Manning.

      Finally, let me offer some advice. Why? Because when your team gets its bottom spanked like the Broncos did today(or am I dreaming and I‘ll wake up soon for the kickoff?), what is left but to fall back on the consolation of philosophy. To my fellow Bronco fans and Arnold, who warned me against my foolhardy prediction, I offer the following clichés: “There’s no fool like an old fool” and “Hope springs eternal.” I’m looking forward to next year.

      How about also some perspective. When I was 27(1978) years old, the Broncos lost their first Super Bowl. I watched it with pride but with chagrin. They kept going back to the Super Bowl and getting, as we have seen, worse and worse(I was told that in 1990, they were the number one defense in the league, like the Seahawks this year, but surrendered 55 points.) The Broncos finally won a Super Bowl when I was 47(1998). Now, I’m 63. At that rate, I’ve got to wait until 2018 for the next Bronco team winning the Super Bowl. They’re almost due. Oh, well, not so bad.

      Hug your kids, kiss your wives, and enjoy life. It’s only football.mm