so maybe I'm back

Howdy Ether,

Since they changed this thing to Google, I've been a little weirded out. I had started to use MySpace more, thinking it a great tool for spreading my music, but am wondering more and more if it is. Still... I got too busy, could only focus on so much internet involvement and opted out of this blog for a time. Of course it didn't help that I really couldn't figure out how to log in and keep it going under the new regime.

Well, Dolli just helped me and here we are.

The interesting thing I found, that inspired me to write was this: On MySpace I made a new friend, a really talented young guy in Seattle named Shane Curry (yes just like the murdered Cincinnati Bengal). He is a wonderfully talented and unique musician, reminding me of Harry Nilsson. A young version, hopefully destined to grow older, wiser, better, and not as soaked in alcohol, but yes, wonderful.

We'd write, he'd allege something or other, I'd be a big brother advocating for the devil and then , interestingly, started to realize more and more that I AM, in fact, older, and some of he 'wisdom' and knowledge I carry, while great comfort to me at this stage, is ABSOLUTELY AND WITHOUT QUESTION NOT MEANT FOR ANY APPLICATION BY THE YOUNG... nor would they likely do so even if they wanted to. But that's probably another blog, or book, or song cycle... or something.

Anyway, I really like this kid and his music. Then one day, he posted a bulletin on MySpace that said something to the effect of "Goodbye MySpace. It was grand!" And that was that.

This sparked some interesting revelations here. As I said, I've been busy, but I decided today, for some reason to see if I could detect Shane's presence anywhere else, and as I Googled him, I found a blog. Now he hasn't made an entry since December, and perhaps if he's gone on to Facebook or some such other networking group it might not be listed when Googling.

That said, I decided to write him a comment (he has no other comments on the blog, perhaps a reason he's seemingly abandoned it) in the event he might see it:

A little curious as to your whereabouts, Miss Lonelyhearts. I was convinced that the internet provided us with a renaissance of literacy and intimacy. Letter writing was reborn. Without the discomfort of being in the same room with air, furnishings and dust being distractingly moved about, we could avert all gazes and speak what we're thinking. Dangerous and often misused? Of course, but still... an opportunity for something that never occured to me was as impermanent as a best friend moving to another town in 4th grade, never to be seen, maybe never to be thought about again after a remarkably short period of mourning (or not). Interesting.
And here I see an effort to communicate and connect, yet abandoned thus far this year. Well, maybe you check in occasionally, or this post will trigger a note to you. in any event, listening to Dumb Angel as I hope and trust you're doing well, little brother,
Harvey
barkyboy@aol.com

OK so this post is simply speaking to how relationships on the internet may be unique in their genesis and dynamic, but are still written by people with their personalities and changes in their lives and all the verities and fickleness that will occur as a result.

I'm truly not hurt, but I do find this incredibly interesting.
OK, maybe I'll be back again, now that I know how. We'll see.

But look occasionaly for Shane Curry. He's really something, folks.

All the best,

Big Baby

Cultural Outrage Continued

A Question and a Comment:

“Hello, Jello Customer Service. How can I help you?”
“HI! It says on the wrapper here for Jello Puddin’ Pops to call this number with any questions or comments. I have one of each. Is that OK?”
“Why it sure is, sir! Shoot!”
“OK, first I have a comment: Mmmmmmmmm Chocolaty!!!!!!
And my question: Is it OK for me to call them Pud-nnnn Pops?”

I wish my question and comment were so benign, but, I dunno, it’s that kind of a day!

While driving back from our gigs in NY this past weekend, Bob Ethington who, in addition to being a terrific drummer and really great guy, also serves as head of Pop Culture for the Summit County (of Ohio) Public Library System, was telling us about an event held in the theater at the main branch in Akron.

Eve Ensler, the author of The Vagina Monologues made an appearance during which, she coached all the women in the audience to yell out, in unison, the word ‘Cunt.’ The idea was to ‘take back’ ownership of that word.

Now I have a problem here. The entomology of this word points to the Middle English word ‘cunte,’ and the Lower German, ‘kunte.’ Both pretty much referring to the female genitals. My problem with this word, is that I have encountered women, foul acting, foul speaking women, women of incredible intelligence and sensitivity, and women who wouldn’t blink at watching a kitten knifed in front of them, and there seems to be an almost across the board consensus here:

“Call me anything. Do anything you want to me. Just DON’T EVER DARE USE THAT WORD!!!!!”

Is it the fact that it comes from MIDDLE English, or LOWER German? Was every woman I’ve ever met, unbeknownst to me, violated and beaten by a dear uncle while having this word slobbered through hot rancid garlic breath into her ear?

Why is it that some women will put up with unimaginable abuse, terrible treatment, with a strength, patience, and stoicism that literally drops me to my knees in astonished admiration, and yet would just as soon slit the Pope’s throat than hear this word uttered?

I have stood in a world where I, my mother, father, grandparents, nieces, all of us have had to hear about how someone “Jewed someone down,” how someone was (and this said with a chilling leer),”A Jew Bastard,” this after having 6 million of us slaughtered for no real reason I can make clear… even THIS FACT argued by some skinhead bastards. I have friends who are 'niggers,' called THIS after years of slavery, after evolving to the societal point we’ve reached today where so many of this race have been beaten into places no human should have to sit or stand. The more charitable of the ignorant bastards generously declaring that there are black people that are ‘just as good as you or me, and then there are niggers.’
Now, outrage and incredible anger at all this I can understand, and I can understand not liking to be called anything dirty, but what, I want to know, makes this word, like what I wrote about above, worse than so many other horrible things one might refer to a woman as, if one was so inclined.

I’m not arguing it, I’m just uninformed here. What’s the issue ladies?
I mean it’s obvious that I’m sensitive to it. I used it once this whole blog, and was looking over my shoulder as I typed it. I just realized no one ever explained it to me.

And now my comment:

The conversation about the above event with Bob led me to some Zen Interstate 80 think, and I came up with the following revelation.

I think the word ‘penis’ is a silly little word, and minimizes the importance and impact of our dear little friend. None of the slang words for this organ are related to the clinical term, ‘prick’ the closest by sharing the first letter, so no real attachment in this sense.

To correct this linguistic silliness, I nominate a new word:

SCREPTACULUM

First, a far more clinical sounding word, lending far more credibility to male genitalia as a serious and important organ. It also lends itself to a far better, more masculine slang term for it,

My Tac (a very manly sounding nickname)
My Scrappy Tac! (stupid but still faithful to the root, if you will)

I don’t think more need be said. Women, take back that nasty assed ‘C’ word, and give us guys a real, juicy one to carry between our legs. Spread the word far and wide!!!

SCREPTACULUM

OK, I’m done here, probably have offended some, again assuming anyone ever reads this. But gee whiz kids, on both these counts , someone help me out here. It doesn’t have to be in the comments section. It can be a separate e-mail. On the other hand, never mind. I never use that word anyway, and no one’s gonna buy into my exceptionally improved term for the male genitalia.

I might as well give up and screw myself in the… oops.

Peeve Deluxe

"The 19th Century belief that unemployment was a matter of individual bad luck or bad character was deeply ingrained in Wisconsin and American culture, and the realization that in fact it was an unavoidable feature of the modern industrial economy came only slowly."
- from a plaque in Milwaukee's Wisconsin Workers Memorial Park

*********

A few months ago I received what has been a popular forward suggesting all welfare recipients should have to pass a urine test to collect their checks.

Most of the time, when I get stuff like this, rather than engage the ignorant, I let it go. Besides, more often than not this kind of shit comes to me from a relative, so I really see no reason to hurt people’s feelings, and start a … thing.

But when I got it, having lived in NY for 20 years, having known homeless folks, having actually BEEN homeless, if even for less than a month, having known people with drug, alcohol, and mental issues… and I AM A LIBERAL DEMOCRAT… I couldn’t help myself and had to respond.

I was relatively kind, suggesting that while it might seem like a good idea it was a far more complex sociological issue and it was a bad idea, and maybe, possibly, perhaps, not so charitable to send it around to everyone this person knew.

Then a couple days ago I got it from an old high school chum, who has managed to live much of his adult life in the south. Now keep in mind, of the relatives that send me this kind of crap, one lives down south, and allowing for the malleable personalities involved as well as the general human ability to adapt to a fault, I sort of understand. The other family source also talks with something of a southern drawl, but lives in northern Ohio and just… well… I can’t say anything nice in this respect, so I’ll stop there.

But my pal came through the 60s and 70s with me and knows better, and catching me on the same day we contributed to Obama’s campaign, I lost it and wrote the following:

I received this from my ******* a few months ago and felt compelled to respond then, as I do now. First, people with serious drinking and drug problems also need shelter, also need to eat. Most of the people affected by this live in a country where opportunity is NOT as apparent and available as everyone wants to preach it is. Either the actual physical facilities and systems are not there and available, or more likely you're dealing with a culture that straps people in for a ride along a three block radius of nothing, and the drugs and drinking are it.

If you think that just by threatening to take away their welfare checks, they'll stop drinking and/or doping, clean up, and fly right, you're the most naive gal at the dance. It also has you looking at these people as infants... and even infants don’t readily respond to this kind of tactic. I lived in NY for 20 years, and in my last couple became friendly with a husband and wife who were panhandlers, living under the FDR overpass a couple blocks away. White, from Jersey, with a kid. Partiers and blue collar folks. He had suffered a back injury, got hooked on Percodans while he couldn't work and over it was. The point though, is that these were people, who could have conversations, who could acknowledge what had happened, who had to struggle mightily to get out of it. Others aren't so lucky, but they are people, with stories and histories and feelings. Some are good folks, some are scum, but most are there based on circumstance. These aren't cartoon characters. These are people, for God's sake, and if you look around closely enough you might be forced to utter "There but for the grace of God walk I."

You implement this kind of thing and other than spending millions upon millions for urine tests, money that could be earmarked for schools, neighborhood programs, things that might help some on a grassroots level... people will die, including children.

I know, seemed kind of clever on the surface, but, and I'm sorry to go on a rant here ******, I love ya and know you care about folks... it's creepy and stupid and really pisses me off.

Xoxoxo

To his credit, he responded:

I totally respect your perspective on this. I really didn't mean to cause you to expound yourself and your thoughts! (which I admire!).
peace,

*******
xoxo

OK, so I only wrote this blog because I found myself fed up with people doing this perverted skin head Will Rogers thing, half the time crediting this Nazi Bullshit to Poor George Carlin and thinking because most of the time a flag is draped over it, it’s OK to invade MY GODDAMNED HOUSE WHERE MY COMPUTER SITS with this racist, mean spirited, ignorant shit!!!!

Well I don’t care for that, if they can invade my space and insult my sensibilities, well I guess I can respond… and my tap got opened.

In a message dated 3/16/07 2:38:22 AM, markrprice@earthlink.net writes:

i need barberton chicken bad

Maybe you do Mark, and maybe you don't. One pretty summer day, Dolli and I hi-jacked our new neighbor, Chris Butler. We went up to Rosatti's for the best soft ice cream anywhere, ever. I mean 'Higbee's Chocolate Malt!!!' Y'know?

Fueled by this grand infusion of sugar and high concentration of butter fat, we hit some yard sales in West Akron. Building up a whole new kind of appetite, we then headed off to Belgrade (or was it Hopokan?) Gardens. I honestly have to say that just as some people eat mashed potatoes for the gravy, some of us chosen peeps eat (or suffer) gefilte fish for the horseradish, Barberton Chicken seems to exist solely as a disguise for the ingestion of vast amounts of lard... and salt, if you want it to taste like anything whatsoever. Not unlike eating three bags of Thacker Burgers, or chewing up and swallowing all the red peppers in a Sechuan dish, it's less a meal than a gastric challenge. One invariably finds oneself driving on the highway, somewhere between 8 and 27 minutes later, when suddenly, you HAVE TO CRAP NOW! And if you hold it in long enough to consider whether you want to take the next exit hoping to find a toilet in time, it all stops, congeals like instant post hole cement, and you don't have a bowell movement for 3 or 4 days. So now, that being said... yeah, next time you're in town, let's do it.

How bout Michael B, Harvey & I open Lou & Hy's II..

Upon getting together wth my dear, dear wife, we considered "Harvey and Dolli's" or "Dolli and Harvey's" to be such the combo, that if we didn't open a Deli with that name, no further Deli's should be opened anywhere, ever. Apologies to everyone, everywhere. You KNOW with a name like that, the corned beef would have:

'... just the right amount of fat.'
-Gert

On the other hand, could be a whole new Jetson's style quasi Kosher carhop jernt with Mark generated ideas like:

offering free epitaphs and non-magnetic soda flange steak with grind piled fingers and humorless food refunds if you can still walk And the first (in America) cuisinery to offer free Customer Stacking Services in the waiting area (still waiting to hear from the Guiness people as to whether we'll get the first in Galaxy rating - there's rumor of a little place on Io - but they're quibbling over the definition of "stacking" - just cause they can stack sideways cause of the low gravity doesn't impress me.

OK, we're good to go, I think. The visual image of M . Baker and Pastrami is a good one.

It’s a Little Gray Today

But just a little…

If you actually have read this blog for a time, you’ll know I have a penchant for dragging these creaky bones up to the peaked roof of my wonderful, charming, unique, and warm house filled with love and affection, and shouting out for all to hear how happy I am and how lucky and blessed my life is… to a sickening degree for some of you, most likely.

All true… in spades.

But the operative words, this gray morning, from the above paragraph (once again, a run-on sentence disguised as a paragraph) are “creaky,” and “life.”

Richard Jeni, a not very nice guy, a chauvinist pig from the old school, and very, very funny (lower common denominator, but still…) comedian, was the last host of a series I line and co-produced for A&E, ‘Caroline’s Comedy Hour.’ He was probably about 50 years old when he shot himself to death last night. Oh there’ll be an investigation. It was his girlfriend who called it in. Maybe it’s really a homicide. Nonetheless, dead.

Two days ago, the lead singer of Boston, apparently a really nice man, dropped dead at age 55. There had been a presence, a life force, a history, relationships, all the active tentacles. Now there is a shared vacuum.

It’s been said that men of my generation like to think we’re 19 well into our thirties. So, based on this math, as I stare at 55 this year, I’m representing the “New 30’s” here as I watch a bunch of fellow “30 somethings” drop. I’d be celebrating the milestone with Joe Strummer this year had he not checked out at 50.


As much as we celebrate our joy at finding each other and renewing our lives at age 47, Dolli and I also feel the brevity of time left to us. Absolutely, I’m grateful to be spending the rest of my life a living, breathing, happy man, with the true love of my life (there I go again), three stepdaughters I love dearly, a precious faery of a granddaughter, likely more tykes to come, some dear friends… a great life it is.

But to not recognize the fact that, while yes, it was a process and history that HAD to take place to get me to the precise spot I’m writing from today, I also may have precious little time with all the above, would just be the omissions of a blind man.

Someone wrote that sorrow is the cost of joy.

I get it.

Then again, the sun’s just now starting to come out. I’m gonna get another cup of coffee and get to work.


Pretty pleased very few read this. But I just had to write this. It’s hard to be just barely out of one’s teens and find yourself staring into the abyss, y’know?

Henry the Human Fly

Rick - RIP

I had a dear old friend, Rick, who, back in the day, faced with “Clapton is God” plastered everywhere, coined a simple stalwart phrase:

”No one can cut Jeff Beck.”

Any long winded, drug fueled, battle of the axe wielders taking place in any of your garden variety black light lit, incense filled basements, would always end in great frustration for some stoned afficianado or another as Rick, always wearing a smile, would cheerfully wait for his moment, and declare:

”No one can cut Jeff Beck.”

I think there were more than a few compelling arguments in favor of Rick’s postulate, though at the time it seemed that Jimi Hendrix had been eating breakfast, lunch, and dinner on that Strat and while Mr. Beck truly was the ultimate prototype shredder, no one moved around an electric guitar with greater ease and intuition than Mr. Bold as Love.

Anyway, this isn’t intended to be one of my long winded entries. We went to the Kent Stage Sunday night in Kent Ohio, and saw a guy play an acoustic guitar and sing for an entire evening. I’ve seen this fellow three times now. The first, a little over 25 years ago in Poughkeepsie, NY at a club that burned down a few years later. He was playing his last tour with his wife, having broken up just as they were hitting the road. Stunning and stunningly sad.

I then saw him about 3 years ago at a club in Cleveland that also, I believe, ceased to exist. This was with a band, playing mostly electric.

Three times now, and I can only write - and of course, you know how predictable I am:

Richard Thompson is very possibly the best guitarist in the world. You can argue in favor of someone else, but I really, truly, believe, chances are you'd be wrong here.

And back in high school, the first time Rick took me over to his house, he had a Fender stack in his room, a Gibson SG, and he stood there windmilling. No Les Paul? No black tee?
Hmmmmm. No one can cut....?

Take it from me:

"No one can cut Richard Thompson."

He's baaaaack! - sorta -

I just took a hit from Princess Mombi as a ‘non-participant’ in Blogvalia.

It’s certainly true, and while she knows there are numerous reasons, about 98.5% of them valid, even by her definition, the simple fact remains that coming to this page has been leading to disappointment, if not despair, since the beginning of December.

Prologue:

When I was living in New York years ago, I was an owner in one of the early New York Rotisserie Baseball leagues. We had such luminaries as Bob Raissman who still writes for the Daily News, Kevin Monahan, current VP of Sports at NBC, Harry Spiro, brother of Cleveland’s DJ Dave Spiro, the guy responsible for all those INSANE Crazy Eddie commercials in the NY area, and a few other losers who have gone on to become people like… me. This was where I came to know and love the likes of Carlos Baerga, Jack Morris, Kirby Puckett, and a whole bunch of other non-Yankees for the first time in my life. It made Major League Baseball come to life as a league for me, and I loved it, but alas… as I became busier and busier in TV production, with not enough time to know if a trade was good or bad, struggling to find an available semi warm body to put on the roster when we (The Rubber City Rebels was the team name, btw) had a guy go on the disabled list, I soon came to a realization, and acted on it.

I resigned from the league for the betterment of the game.

So now:

Acting equally responsibly to the denizens of Greater Blogville, I felt I had to do the same these past few months. Now catch-up is just too daunting if I’m going to go into detail on all that’s been happening, knowing the WHY I haven’t been around hardly real blog material in and of itself, but I’ll give a quick review anyway:

The series I’ve been working on , “Leader of the Pack," now tentatively scheduled to start airing on HGTV mid April, tied me up both in Akron and NY, providing a creamy filling of 16 straight days in NY for production with a few quick trips, leading to Christmas, then between Christmas and New Years, and then for a couple weekends following, forming the crispy chocolaty wafers on either side. I’ll give details, pix and stories about this adventure when that’s ready to air.

Bloomberg’s Culture Wire ‘Muse’ has been ravenous for material, material that’s interesting, shot in interesting places and provides us with countless opportunities to work on stuff that isn’t cretinous. So there have been tons of shoots going on at the same time as the above series, continuing into the New Year, along with other shoots for other loyal and wonderful clients.

So in short, the TV biz has been taking up most of my time… along with the laundry.

Then compatriots Chris Butler, Debbie Smith and Rich Roberts joined Dolli, Deb’s sister Cindi, Blueskid Pat Sweeney, some lovely English blokes,The Riotous Brothers, a bunch o’ other delightfully diverse folks, and me, in Orlando, to celebrate Producr Deluxe and Engineer- to- the- Stars, Bruce Hensal’s 23rd berfday by partying, saluting, roasting, honoring and playing at ‘Brucapalooza.’Mister Palooza

Also joined by the the uber-interesting Joe Lala, fabulous percussionist and … look him up on imdb.com, the 4 of us (Deb, Chris, Rich and me, that is) formed the band ‘Half Pig/Chi Cleveland,’ or... something like that. This was much fun, and a more detailed report may yet show up at www.tinhuey.com when we get our next chance for updating.

Returning from sunny Florida found us in the middle of about 14” of snow, with much shoveling to be done, the return of the prodigal daughter as Gayle, husband Kris, and JUST OLD ENOUGH TO BE A COUPLE INCHES BEYOND 'SUPERBABY'GRANDAUGHTER ELLIOTT ROSE CARTER
returned to Akron after a few years in LA and a shorter period in Chicago. Much more on that will be seen on the Princess Mombi, No No Bad Dao and The Dolli Mama’s respective blogs, so I’ll not dig too deeply here at the moment.

So busy, busy, busy. I’m only doing this entry as it is because I can’t finish the taxes until a couple brokerage firms get their late assed remarkably disorganized documents to me, and I’m a little winded from all the above, thus finding myself having done payroll, sent off production sheets to my crew for tomorrow, turned down one shoot, have one load in the drier and another washing, thawing chicken for dinner (not a real kinetic job, but still…)

listening for 2 1/2 year old noise as I’m also babysitting, about to renew the company’s production insurance policy, begin to pay bills, and work up a tentative set list for our two upcoming gigs in New York (March 23,24. More on THAT later as well)… I thought I’d indulge myself for a minute.

So in that spirit… This just sat for a full day while I learned that there was an emergency 2 camera shoot that needed to be put together incredibly last minute. I guess I’ll post this while I await 3-7 important calls. Be back in a while. What “while” will turn out to be, I know not.

End o' the Year

OK so presuming FOR SOME GODFORSAKEN REASON you, once in a while, are so bereft of a life that you come visit this site to see what’s up, I thank you, probably like you a lot, and offer up, as Chris would never write, “a quick one.”

Thanksgiving was great. We went to Okeechobee (Indian for ‘nothing but a Wal-Mart here, Gert’) Florida to spend Turkey Day and a couple more with the in-laws. I loved it. I love them, so it works just fine. Turkey, the works, lots of double dipped chocolate peanuts, a couple really intense flea markets (one with homemade Black Walnut ice cream), and… adventure.

My father-in-law recently had very serious wrist surgery, so Dolli and I wanted a list of things to do around the house, things that he would otherwise likely do himself, wreck his wrist, and have to have yet another surgery, making everyone, himself first, and my mom-in-law a most unreasonably close second, miserable.

The primary job was the removal of the hurricane shutters on their single story home. No problem. He has a bit for his drill that grabs thumb screw nuts and whips ‘em right off. Great toy. The shutters themselves were corrugated sheet metal of some sort. No big deal, but to be safe, after some urging (from a man who has lost most of three fingers to an accident with tools), I wore gloves. They came off in no time, notwithstanding the 3 or 4 wasp nests erected behind a couple of them. Big Bad Johnny’s (what we sometimes call him) wrist was just fine when it came to squirting Wal-Mart’s Best Ultimate Wasp Death In a Can, so there were no real incidents outside of my jumping, when a few came calling, off the third wrung of a ladder and doing a pretty damned good tuck and roll.

We put most of the shutters in the shed, carrying them over on a garden cart pulled by a golf cart. I like the golf cart part when we visit, too. He lets me drive it whenever I want, and I can pretend to be 11 years old and getting to drive SOMETHING WITH A MOTOR. Then we did a second pass to haul over the much longer ones that covered the doors and here’s where the adventure part comes in. I placed the shutters that covered the back patio doors crosswise on the cart then climbed in and sat dead center with my back to Q’s (the other name we call him… like ‘M’ in the 007 novels, but not) as he drove.

Having arranged the shutters like wings to a plane, I held them steady with a manly, tight, work gloved grip. As we started off to circle to the front of the house, I figured by virtue of this placement, he’d have to take slow, safe, wide circles around to the front, so it would be fine, and at the very same time, as we crawled along, mused how, while my older brother, Larry was the athletic son, playing 6’ tall white boy basketball at Buchtel High for a bit back in ’58 and’59, and maybe a little track, I, the fat, lazy, mama’s boy, oddly turned out to be the son that, like my pop:
was willing to get my hands dirty, work up a sweat, and get a job done.

As I thought these thoughts in a baked beans/campfire and whiskey kind of testosterone glow, Bigbad Johnny Q (his given Christened name) turned the corner to the front of the house, onto the slightest of inclines, and suddenly … the garden cart rolled, throwing out all of us, the organic and inorganic contents of it. I reacted by contorting my supple 54 year old frame to at least come down on my tailbone as I held my legs out to ward off the tumbling giant corrugated guillotines should they be headed (cute, huh?) my way. This trajectory, as I rolled back, sent my knees up into my chest hard enough that they actually bent the glasses hanging from my shirt collar, blew most of the breath out of me and inspired the thought (this always happens in slo-mo… really, so there was plenty of time for all this) “This, what is happening to me at this very moment, just might be the real thing,” as in, I might have to be hospitalized when all is said and done.

My father-in-law jumped out of the cart making noises of surprise and chagrin as I lay there. The metal missed me. It, of course, would have anyway, I, as described above, having used my soon to be recognized super powers to position myself properly in order to avoid a certain grizzly demise. Mom-in-law and Dolli both eventually came to the front door to see what the ruckus was about. I gathered myself, claiming I was OK, rose, then ‘walked it off’ around the corner of the house and had to drop down to the ground again, the shock, I think making me a bit faint. My anus (as a result of the tailbone thingy) freaking out. Otherwise, very dramatic. Only a little alarming.

I got back up without crapping myself and we finished the job. I took a hot shower and three Ibuprofens, and then did the previously mentioned flea marketing, only able to eat about a third scoop of the wonderful black walnut ice cream. Upon arriving back at home I slept for about an hour. Today, you find me sporting, other than some ‘raspberry’ scab remnants, the tiniest bit of bruising in my chest, only to manifest as a mild soreness when I stop and lift runaway cars with endangered families (or villains, of course) off the ground, or when I stretch. I may NOT be a Golden God, but I am a super-hero!

Glad I got that story out. Maybe the nightmares will stop now.

On the Sunday-after-Thanksgiving, we drove our rental Lincoln Town Car (don’t ask) to Orlando, staying with friends Rich and Linda, as I joined forces at the wonderful Audio Recording Technology Institute with the Floridian chapter of ‘Team Harv.’ We transferred tracks, laid down a vocal, and mixed three songs done back in August by ‘Harvey in the Hall,’ made up of bassist Debbie Smith, drummer Bob Ethington and me, with sit –ins by Black Key, Dan Auerbach and, via long distance, former Byrd and Flying Burrito Brother, Chris Hillman gracing this BIG FAN with a bit o’ mandolin on one.

‘Team Harv’ Orlando :

-Rich and Linda, of course, with their friendship, encouragement. and grace, hosting us at the Circle K Ranch.

-My pal, my brother, engineer, producer and person extraordinaire, Mister Bruce Hensal, a man with great old stories and a great young brain.

-A.R.T.I owner, the talented, plucky, and beautiful Steve Pietrofesa the owner of the jernt, and with Bruce, the first people I ever heard to want to put a ‘smile’ on the drums.

-A.R.T.I Headmaster Keef (Fifi) LaBeau who sat at that ‘board’ (or whatever they call Protools controllers) regardless of what nonsense was coming across the speakers at him… or from my yap behind him. Talented guy.

- The young Russian A.R.T.I student who ran for water, extra headphones, coughed with regularity and wanted to hear princess like b/u vocals on “I’ve Just Seen a Face.” She didn’t get to hear said vocals… and won’t. Sorry, kid.

-Dolli. Always.

Honorable mentions to Tammy and Carol, respectively Steve and Bruce’s lovely forces of nature.

So then, blah, blah, blah, sounds great, needs a little tweaking, more songs to come, got a little lost on the way to the airport (saw the Epcot parking lot toll booths, though), had a smooth trip home on the Wednesday–After-Thanksgiving to;

Up at night with pup (NOT bassist) Debbie and her diarrhea. Like being a new daddy again at 54!! She’s better now but her brother Eddie, as of this writing… in fact I’m only writing this because I’ve been effectively up and down and up since 4AM with poor Eddie, has contracted his sister’s malady.

In the middle of the Debbie saga, eldest daughter Gayle came flying in this past Thursday evening to do a guerilla attack on the West Akron (more specifically, fashionable Highland Square) real estate market and may very well have found the house of the future for her, Kris, granddaughter Elliot Rose, and dogstuffs Lilah!!! That was a fair chunk of our weekend.

Finally, I’m packed and have been, since Friday, waiting for a call back from our friends and creators of a reality TV series for HGTV that we at Gold Teleproductions (www.goldtele.com) are about to shoot. As soon as we begin, I’ll be off to NY , back for Christmas, then probably in NY until New Years. This is the longest I’ll have been away at one time since I moved home to Akron, and do not relish it… but it is, at least, the city, where I lived for 14 years (along with 3 years in NY State in Woodstock, and another 3 years in Westchester County near Connecticut), and maybe, if the dogs are OK, Dolli will be able to come visit at least one weekend.

Since I’ll be off and busy, it’s unlikely that there will be another post before I get back so:

HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE.

PLEASE TAKE CARE OF YOURSELVES AND EACH OTHER. HEALTH HAPPINESS, PEACE AND LESS GEORGE BUSH AND HIS ILK IN THE COMING YEAR TO US ONE AND ALL.

PS So now it looks like I'll be able to do a week or so, come home for X-Mas, do a week, come home for New years Eve, then do 10 days to a week, so a bit of a reprieve, i.e. we don't have to go get a Christmas tree tonight!! Still, unlikely I'll have time for another post so again, BEST TO ONE AND ALL TILL THEN.

LOOK OUT BABY! THERE'S A BIG WEEKEND COMIN!!

Update to this posting from last week to reflect:

OHIO STATE 147- MICHIGAN 139

THE REST OF DIVISION 1 SUCKS EGGS!!!!

From My Space Friend




Cowboy Roy:


















You: Goats?
Me: Yes.
You: Why goats??
Me: I have no idea!!

So yeah, we've decided to throw a small BBQ for the heck of it, but at the moment, we're still trying to rent a goat. So if you know anyone that is willing to rent us their goat for a couple of hours, lemme know!!

**luv and lemonade**
-cowboy roy :)

Ed Note: Roy, a young feller of the Philipino persuasion, used to work with us in NY a lot, until his head popped, he became a walking, talking embodiment of Spring Break, and has been now, for several years, while keeping a place in the city, living mostly in Hawaii, sound mixing (he's small enough to hide in the back of an SUV) on 'Dog: The Bounty Hunter' for A&E

Dearest Boy,

Dolli and I would love to come but, in case you weren't conscious of it over there on your little atoll... but then again, perhaps the subconscious motivation behind the goat theme... Saturday is going to be the biggest day EVER, period. OSU v. Michigan. Number 1 agin' Number 2. Undefeated meets undefeated. Mac and Cheese v. liquid pork in a pitcher.

In honor of this day, we traveled to Sam's Wines in Chicago and picked up 2) bottles of Laphroag 15, 2) bottles of Bowmore 'The Darkest,' and 1) bottle of Mortlach 15 (they only had 1 left). This will be consumed starting at 3:30PM EST along with 14 pizzas, 14 wings, and 14 Milwaukee's Best by my pal Scott (who has been a successful recovering alcoholic for like 7 years, so I guess he'll just drink coffee) and me while Dolli and the puppies, no doubt, will be crafting to Buzzy Linhart tunes in the kitchen.

This will, sadly, make it unlikely that we'll be able to attend your Porcupine and Pork roast 4500+ miles away on Sunday, as we'll be turning our house over to the authorities here in Ohio as a post game field triage unit.

But then again, one never knows. We've been known to be spontaneous in the past. You should have been here the day we just grabbed up our buddy Chris, with no notice, went yard saling, rocked into Barberton, Ohio (THE Magic City) for some real, lard dipped "Barberton Fried Chicken" and then drove like bats out of hell in our Beetle convertible ALL THE WAY to another hamlet for some Rosatti's frozen custard, then back to my place for Cokes and lines of crushed up Lipitor. Woo Hoo!!! It... was... wild dude!! I'll tell ya, Roy, after freeing up from 20 constricting years in New York, life in Akron is constantly operating right on the tightrope. Hell, pretty soon, you'll be doing a travel episode with your A&E guy 'Hump' or whatever his name is, tracking old Harv through the still dangerous and teaming with Redskins trails along the Ohio and Erie Canals. Wouldn't that be somethin'? Best bring chocolate and nylons along with your jerky and other provisions. Yes!!

So yeah, maybe you oughta send us those directions. Dolli's been hankerin' to come back to Hawaii ever since she won that MTV- Win- a- Week- in- Hawaii- with- DEVO contest back in the 80's. It was fabulous for her to travel those thousands of miles to hang with these guys that lived 4 blocks away back home.

If we do come, I'll just jump over to central PA. before our flight so we can bring a big bucket of Scrapple to fry up in that exotic pit you people cook everything over while playing drums and doing female pelvic exercises and shit all the time, like we seen in the 007 films down at Harry's Movie and Corn Emporium.

If we don't make it, you brown skinned kids have a great time, suck up some Poi and drink about 5 dozen Strohs' in our honor and always remember:

BUCKEYES ARE SOMETHING LARGELY INEDIBLE!!! GO!!!

xoxoxo

Harv

Peeve de la semaine

This is one of the times where being incredibly happy with so much bounty in my life is making me feel weirdly pressurized, like my head might pop a leak:

Heather RIP

Last Thursday, my ex put to sleep my sweet li’l girl of a puppy, my Welsh Corgi, Heather. It was time and she mercifully arranged to have the Vet do it as a house call. I had always said that it would be the actual visit to the Vet’s office that would kill Heather, her heart raced so whenever we even pulled into the parking lot. So I thank Lauren for that. I’ll forever be grateful.

I loved Heather a lot. She was a wonderful little prize and I continue to miss her.

Karin Berg RIP

On the same day we lost Heather, Karin Berg, the woman who made all my dreams come true by signing Tin Huey, bringing us to the Ultimate Bunny Hutch, Warner Brothers…. died. She’d been sick for a long, long time. I stayed in touch, as did many, I think. I wish I had done a bit more. Chris had the idea, last time Half Cleveland played in NY, that we might go to her place (she was a shut in) and play a little set for her, bring some bagels, make it a NOT-JAZZ Brunch. We dropped the ball on that, and now can’t get a re-do.

She and I wrote about shut-in stuff: Netflix movies, and our favorite TV shows. She turned me onto “Everything I’m Cracked Up to be” a book by Jen Trynin, another Warner Brothers ne’er-do-well who I’ve been in touch with as we couldn’t be more kindred spirits… at least in the sense of shared experience. Karin is in the book under the pseudo of “Lola.”

Karin was known for some incredible signings to Elektra and Warner Brothers, as well as being heralded for her smarts in NOT signing bands. You can do a search and read tons about all this. Signing us? Not so smart. But between doing so and being my friend for many years, she’ll always be in my heart, and I’m sad about this passing.

I’m so sorry, Mark

My old school chum since Kindergarten, Mark Goldstein just lost his wife. Younger than us. I didn’t know her well, but it’s very close, has happened along with all the rest in a really condensed period of time.

I see how, in getting older, these kinds of weeks will be more frequent, as long as I manage not to become part of one. I’m getting more used to it, more resolved to these goings on and by no means surprised by much of any of it, so far. After losing my daughter in a way that surprised beyond surprise, I’m both jaded when it comes to seeing people go, and frustrated by the fact that it’s just not gonna stop… ever.

On the good side, and it's an enormous one, I adore my wife, a great and singular woman, my unique home that feels so like a home, my dear, dear family and friends- don’t get me wrong, I’m also grateful and appreciative of every minute Mark is with us- and my pups, Eddie and Debbie. I am finding a minute here and there to play a little music, embarking on a new project this past August unlike anything I’ve ever done before. Very exciting. This time is wedged between my active enjoyment of all the above bounties in my life, and the fact that my business in NY, Gold Teleproductions celebrated an October, the first October in our 20th year in biz, with an unprecedented number of shoots, so I’ve been very, very busy. My Doc gave me an excellent report on my health, and while I will have to probably get a new tooth bonded in, as I write this, they’re still all mine.

But I walk through this Shangri-La for a minute, with a head feeling the pressure of the sadness this kind of loss brings. It’s a barometric sadness, breathing is different, different muscles are tensed against the winds of despair. Need a little Ibuprofen and it makes me a little tired too.

I’m a lucky and grateful man.

The New Fall Season Update

Ok, we know it's been killing you, we being the closet arbiters of good taste, so hearkening back to my post of 10/8 The New Fall Season, here's where we stand as of today:

Everybody Hates Chris: Still love it, it's not, as reported, on Sundays, which of course, makes sense, and we're not sure yet when it IS on. Stumbled upon it sometime this week and laughed and loved it, so this gets a pink hoping for red designation.

Desperate Housewives: As predicted, we found it, and are still addicted.

Brothers and Sisters: Nope and Nope.

NEW ENTRY: Lizzie and Joe suggested the absurdities to be found in FX's entry It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. We've watched 4 episodes in two weeks and ALMOST like it. Can't speak for Dolli, but I'm out.

Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip: OK. It's weird. That same Sorkintalk. Quick, clever characters always talking while walking. Self conscious? Sure. Great? Dunno. Do I love it? Yupster!!

Standoff: Nope

The Knights of Prosperity: Never heard of it.

Boston Legal: Yes, yes, Yes, yes!!!! And now the guy who played the Great Max Baer in Cinderella Man is a regular!! Yay!!

America's Next Top Model: Look, we've talked about this. Big assed (only on Tyra, folks) guilty pleasure. And that's that!!!

Justice: Ummmm.... huh?

My Name is Earl: Of course.

The Office: Some have argued that they are now becoming caricatures of their characters, which were caricatures to start with. Probably true, but I'm still chuckling and squirming, so it's all good to me.

Ugly Betty: "America's Best New Comedy!! A Smash Hit!!" Also probably true, and I probably screwed up by not taping it, but... we don't watch it.

Grey's Anatomy: We love this show. There has been a long line, from St. Elsewhere and Hill Street Blues, through L.A Law and E.R's better days... this one nails it, period. Wonderful stuff.

E.R: Not a preseason pick, but it's been pretty OK in that 10PM Thursday slot, and by then we're glued to the couch, so... there.

Shark: I had asked "Who doesn't love Jimmy Woods?" Apparently most of America, at least in this show. We no watch- you no watch-they no watch.

Men in Trees: A passing thought of the past. Maybe 10 frames. No more.

The Wire: Still a big yes, still the best show on TV, still doesn't count cause we have HBO on Demand.

So, we're actually getting some reading, some geetar picking, and some blogging done this season... not to mention Netflix!!!!

Five Things

I’d love to write more, and more often, but once again, I meet the bipolar specs to qualify as an official H. Harvey Gold.

The way Gold Teleproductions works, and this is a milder microcosm of my entire 20+ years in TV, is in a very non linear way. Love comes in spurts, they say. So, as I work from my home most of the time, I’ve had neighbors observe me riding my bike, walking my dog, turning up at the gourmet grocer, all at some ungodly hour like 1:30 on a Tuesday afternoon, giving me that amusing and confusing image of a man who comes from old money. Amusing to me, because we know that many who come from old money wear it well and often look like normal slobs like me. Yes their chinos come from Nieman –Marcus while mine from Caldor, but still…

Then there are the long periods when it appears I have abandoned the planet, not changed out of my pajamas in three days (two, I can say has happened, often, but three? Gimme SOME credit), have been quietly moved by cover of darkness into a sanitarium, or have simply left the neighborhood with, apparently only the clothes on my back.

This period of time leans towards the latter. I say only leans, because when it gets THAT busy, I start vibrating like a coke fiend roughly 27 minutes past the last line of the night, and would not be found to have either the time or the disposition to be writing an entry like this.

Still, it’s been busy and there’s enough surplus to what’s on my plate that even this is being written with the patina of guilt coating every keystroke.

Ok then, all this is to lead into mentioning a couple things:

1) The movie (available on DVD), “The Devil and Daniel Johnston” is a 5 star recommendation (unless you can only handle comedies and warm/fuzzy Jennifer Aniston vehicles).

2) It appears Richard Thompson has a new CD out. This is always a good thing, even if there are at least 15 out there I haven’t spent any quality time with.

3) Primus is gigging again. My sources (Dolli) say that this in support of a new “Greatest Hits’ comp. but still… Pork Soda for EVERYONE!!! PRIMUS SUCKS!

4) Califone has a new CD out. This is a band led by Tim, former head butcher at ‘Red Red Meat.’ Acolyte Michael Aylward says it kills. We’re seeing them live November 3rd, we hope, and will report on the CD as it suits us.

5) New Stooges Album album in the making with the Ashton brothers.

I recently observed (coming up with a new line for a song) that getting old can come fast and furious. ‘Five minutes ago’ hits without much warning. But with these events comes the whole conversation (which won’t happen here) about what transpires once ‘old’ has arrived, the issue come and gone, and business gets attended to.

Finis

It's My Party, and I'll Cry if....

10/12/1952: Gertie Gold Gives birth to the sweetest little guy. The nurses, already sensing that he can tell the diff between boys and girls nickname him 'Butch'... a name that will not stick past this anecdote.

10/12/2006: IT'S ME BERFDAY!!! LET'S GET STARTED:

9:20 AM
I have three vehicles on my property, changing the face, in fact, of said property as I write this, putting in a new septic system. The tanker truck is just now beginning to get to the point where my office is starting to smell like the plant in the valley where we get our oven roasted poop. Only ours isn't oven roasted. Dolli prepares to flee. The Bobcat has dug a trench where the path between the garage and house used to be, only to come up to a point where apparently a rather BIG tree used to live, it's stump and root system a cheerful reminder of the good old days. The main drain from the house, set to be replaced with a nice new PVC one... um... at least until the camera does it's work, can't quite be tracked properly. BULLETIN 9:38AM No new main will be put in. It appears that in order to do so, well... our kids will one day, God willing, get to tear down the garage to get to it.

Gifties so far: 10:55 AM Birthday wishes via a few cards, a call from Selma, a call from Debbie, one e-mail and several welcome MySpace postings. Got a Gift Card to West Point Market. $50 worth of French Mustard, here we come!!! My partner sent me a box o' chocolate which I received yesterday. Super. Got the newest European Film and Video production guide. More to come, I suspect (nod, nod, wink, wink) Grateful for all. Just glad to be here.

From My Dear Friend Paul, who REALLY cares about me:

Dear Harv,

Today is your birthday. How nice that you are still alive. May you
continue to live and thrive as long as you see fit. And if you decide
to shoot yourself in the mouth, may all your detractors who will say
things about you being too cowardly to continue living contract such
horrible diseases that they themselves are forced to kill themselves,
their last thoughts of shame being that they were such hypocrites to
have questioned your motives for taking your own life.

Love,
Paul

10/13/2006: THE REST IN REVIEW

I had planned on yet another ambitious pictorial, and detailed birthday diary, but:

"You load 16 tons, and whadaya get?
Another day older and deeper in debt
St. Peter don't call me cause i can't go
I owe my soul to the company store"

So I received an enormous number of loving and thoughtful phone calls with birthday wishes. Between those, my usual air traffic controlling hours on the phone, developing my newest show idea, Landscaping Solutions for the Septically Impaired (firsthand research for said project, i.e. the creation by my art department of all that clay based mud of the future in my yard costing several thousand dollars), and the overall non-stop nature of my day, I was led to do something totally uncharacteristic:

At 8:05 PM I told my dear friend and neighbor, Faith, who had thoughtfully stopped in to drop off something she had promised Dolli, bringing her wonderful 'light up a room' smile AND a cute birthday card... to go home. She was actually into one last, probable 15 second 'and by the way...' segment of her goodbye outside when it happened, but still... I hit the wall and caved in.
I am ashamed.

I didn't have any high expectations for this day, truly.

But the ONE THING, the simple idea of peacefully getting take out in time to be settled in on the couch with Dolli, our beloved pooches at our feet, relaxing and chuckling to 'My Name is Earl'and propelling through the only night of Mindless Prime Time (MPT) where we actually have programs we like to watch all the way from 8-11, was NOT going to happen as hoped. So we turned on the VCR to tape Earl while we scrambled eggs to eat with the WONDERFUL SOURDOUGH BREAD (always a silver lining, no?) Maynan had, along with an issue of The Ring, something that has become sort of a 'Periodical Gold' in this era of pugilistic apathy, brought me earlier.

The eggs were good, the bread and butter excellent, the Carrot Cake fabulous, and all good wishes and intentions were simply wonderful... Dolli tried and asked and was sweet as that delicious cake she brought home, but I was toast, plain and simple.

So I don't want to seem ungrateful. I was absolutely fine and good and happy and... apparently running on fumes, cause I was fabulous right up until I wasn't... and then I wasn't. Doesn't happen often, and I must say I told Dolli not to worry, that there was absolutely nothing she could do that would be right. I had to get though my snit to the other side, which I did. But I was, and am hungover from it.

I am another year older and on the day to mark it I became a cranky old man!

... and THAT (along with a client-pissed-me-off-driving-me-to-the-ragged-edge- of-irrational-but-justifiable-professional-suicide story that blog-prudence, once again, dictates I'll not tell here) is the REAL story of the day.

Thanks to everyone. I really DO love you all, too!!!!

The New Fall Season !!

Forwarded to us by Culture Czar, B. Ethington:

From an interview with comedian Demetri Martin:

"I don't watch television, unless I'm maybe on the
road and need to fall asleep or something. I try not
to read newspapers, which is kind of irresponsible, I
guess. But I've found that for my head, I'm a lot
happier and more productive if I don't fill it with
that kind of stuff. It seems to me that most of our
culture is based on missing out on something, like the
fear of missing out on something is a great commodity

that's plied to get people to watch things, do things,

Dimitri on 'The Daily Show'

an buy things. Once you actually start missing out
and realize that you're fine, and even better off,

Dimitri, also on 'The Daily Show'

it's so liberating. Like the Super Bowl. I don't care
about the Super Bowl. I want to miss the Super Bowl.
It's like "Season Finale", and I'm like "Well, fuck
the season. Just leave me alone. I want to read a book
or draw."

This has stuck in my head.... but of course, if I take
it seriously, I may have to get another job!

bb

PS ... of course, Demetri Martin would want us to buy HIS
new cd!

Well Bob,

At least Demitri's got perspective. I mean, why watch TV? The Daily Show isn't a REAL TV show, right Mister Well Read? I mean, Geez, does he also smoke a pipe like the guy in Porky's? That'll make him look older.

OK then:

Dolli and I have our favorite programs. While in the past, we've been really religious about watching and/or recording, getting pretty disturbed when that gets screwed up, we managed to hit most of the first (and some second) episodes for this Fall season while in Europe, which may have set a strange new standard for us. Our planned schedule for the new Fall season and how it's come together so far:

Sunday
7-7:30 CW Everybody Hates Chris A GREAT show, a fabulous traditional family sitcom. Why it was moved to this complete shithole of a slot, I know not, but we've seen none of them, and it doesn't bother us a bit and I wouldn't be shocked if we fell off this one altogether.
9-10P ABC Desperate Housewives Really fun. A terrific guilty pleasure. We've also seen none of these and it's not killing us, but I suspect an effort will be made to catch up. This will be one of those DVD collections many people end up with.
10-11 ABC Brothers and Sisters A new show with a cast I find interesting, but again, haven't seen it, and only if we get into some Desperate Housewives groove might we give it a chance.

Anything HBO throws at us. So far, this season it's just The Wire. And I don't mean that it's 'just' The Wire. This is the best show on TV, period. We watch this religiously, BUT aren't hemmed in on Sunday night, because we have free HBO on demand, so we have the luxury of watching it when we can watch it. Coolio. Look into the blue blue future!!!

Monday
10-11 NBC Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip OK!! Aaron Sorkin and Tommy Schlamme!!! Real stuff, real writing, real dialogue. Maybe a real show. We've seen two, I think, and like it... I think. And 'Josh' is in it! Whether it will addict us like 'Sports Night' did me, and 'The West Wing' (after ignoring a couple seasons) did both of us, remains to be seen, but we're up for it.

Tuesday
8-9 Fox Standoff Looked like something worth checking out. Won't happen.
9-9:30 ABC The Knights of Prosperity. See Standoff
10-11 ABC Boston Legal We have loved this show as if it were our own child. The self conscious references to 'this episode' 'this season' even talking about the night they're on creeps me out. Been done so much... after once, ever, anywhere, done way too much. Gimme my walls, I say. Still, these are the roles of a lifetime for both James Spader and William Shatner. We missed last week, and THAT bothers us. Thank you, David E. How's Michelle looking this week?

Wednesday
8-9 CW America's Next Top Model What can I say? Not that you care, but I'm tiring a little of Tyra's screaming and assumed wisdom of the ages. That aside, screw it, we love this show, missed it last week and are very, very not happy about that, hoping to catch up on a replay this week. So there!
9-10 Fox Justice Yet another one that looked like it deserved a try, but isn't likely to get one.

But wait... 30 Rock, with my favorite comic Stanley Kowalski of all time, Mister Former Kim Bassinger is coming soon. We'll likely be there... or will we, Tina Fey?

Thursday MUST SEE NIGHT!! STILL!!
8-8:30 NBC My Name is Earl A consistently great show. Jamie Presley is just the best cartoon character, as are, now that I think about it, pretty much all our regulars... except the Hispanic maid. She's just both hot and adorable at the same time. We missed much of a season of it making a non Tivo (there, we're facing our demons) decision, but are on the case, absolutely this season.
8:30-9 NBC The Office We had too many 'uncomfortable' shows going on the first season this aired: Larry David, Lisa Kudrow, and probably more, along with some sort of competition on another network, which also had an effect on 'Earl,'... Chris Rock? No matter. We've grown to love this thing and it's cast without it being ruined by having seen the brilliant and wonderful (will HBO bring back 'Extras'?) Ricky Gervais with his original version... one thing that also gives us a DVD wonderland to look forward to, as long as we can put subtitles on it "What did he sayyyyyyy!!!"

Alt:
8-9 ABC Ugly Betty Great reviews continue. This looks kinda like a success, but... unless I decide I want to add yet another one to our roster by taping it, I think it's probably not happening... at least this year.

9-10 ABC Grey's Anatomy OK then. ANTM might be more addictive (our only Reality Bite) as a sick guilty pleasure, and The Wire may be simply the best thing on the tube, but THIS my friends, is our favorite, period, so don't even bother us about it. It rocks. We laugh, we cry, we... a lot like ER used to be, and sometimes (though very seldom) still is.
10-11 CBS Shark. I mean, who DOESN'T love Jimmy Woods?
I mean c'mon.... but we haven't watched it and probably won't.
Dark Horse: Had no intention of watching ER for another tired season. That Mambo Mouth experiment was pretty stunning last season, no? So now, Mr. Full House, Mr. Former Rebecca Blue X-Babe is the latest... and I kinda like it. So, sorry Mr. Terrorist Identifier, we're back with the gang. But if we miss one, it'll be OK.

Friday