October 30, 2006

HOW BIZARRE, HOW BIZARRE


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I cannot adequately describe the level of surreality that I felt when I saw this the other day while watching the 24-hour weather channel here in Tampa.

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KEEPING IT REAL. REAL DUMB.

The three most useless words in the English language:

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Blinged-out Taurus


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HAVING A GOURD TIME


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Stopped on Saturday night at the town center at FishHawk when we saw they were having a charity festival.

There were bands playing, carnival rides and a "pumpkin pyramid" full of gourds.

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The pumpkins were up on risers and each had a light inside instead of a candle. Very smart. Very cool.

We got out and walked around in the crisp breeze and I shot a couple photos.

Some worked well.

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Some, not so much.


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'HOLY GUAVA!'

Blogging's been light lately, I know. Been puking out words for The Man.

Did a Flavor cover on candy swaps. And my recipes column. And a story about "The Hungry Detective." And a story about El Taconazo. And I tasted a bunch of Halloween candy, for professional reasons, of course. And I wrote about healthy trick-or-treating.

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Then there was my epic, "In Search of the Big Guava." Got a ton of e-mail off of that one. Everyone has seen guava in stores or has a tree or knows somebody who does, apparently.

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October 25, 2006

ADVENTURES IN TRAFFIC

Saw this the truck other day while coming east over the Gandy Bridge into Tampa:

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Oh. Great. A confederate who loves ATVs.

So I pull up next to him to get a look. Sure enough, it's a big, thick-necked Bubba.

Who else is in the front seat?



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It's a young African-American boy. Of course.


::::::doing the AFLAC duck head shake::::::



PREVIOUS ADVENTURES IN TRAFFIC:

Goin' mobil.

G'day, mate.

Porn as a windowshade.

Jonathan Livingston Redneck.

Buc off, pal.

Such a dirty mess.

How cheep can you be?

I'm super! Thanks for asking.

Would you like an apple pie with that?

Hearse so good.

Drive fast, take chances.

Riding with Fab the deejay.

Beware of the Death Explorer.

Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right.

My other car is a rocket-propelled grenade.

Live long and prosper. In an Altima.

Just two good ol' boys.

Asshats aplenty.

Nicotine is my crash helmet.

Jazz hands moms.

Ugly lug nuts.

Pretty ballsy.

My honor student can kick your ass.

Garfield mudflaps.

Horse and buddy.

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A CAT'S A CAT AND THAT'S A FACT

BillTheCatJpg.JPGAs I've said before, I get the best mail at work.

Last Friday in The Big Question I wrote, I printed the responses of readers, who were asked what non-human thing they would clone if they could do so.

In the intro I wrote about a cloning service started by a millionaire who wanted to make a copy of his long, lost dog.

In the column, I wrote:

The best the company could do was clone two cats, one of whom, Little Nicky, cost $50,000 to duplicate.

Apparently, one of our readers didn't care for that phrasing:

name: Barbara XXXXXX
city: Tampa
comments: Re: column of 10/20/06
To Jeff Houck:

What do you mean "All they could do" was clone cats?

It's weird how people like you write as if NO ONE liked cats, when actually they have millions of fans! People will be loving cats long after you're dead, Jeff. That's because they are worthy of love. You should show more sensitivity if you don't want to lose readers. I've had cats that were heavenly gifts and great friends.

"The smallest cat is a masterpiece."

--Leonardo da Vinci

Do not print my name in your column.


If she only knew how many dogs are in my house at this moment, she would have lost her cat-crazy mind.


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October 24, 2006

ROLLIN', ROLLIN', ROLLIN'

Only four days left until the momentous Bicycle Bash By The Bay.

Event organizer and chief promoter Alan Snel is ramping up the visibility big time.

Last night, he was featured in a "Charley's World" segement on Fox 13 here in Tampa.

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You can see the video by clicking here.

In the meantime, here are some of my favorite screen grabs:


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Bicycle enthusiast? That's putting it mildly.



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Check out the looks on these pedestrian couples' faces.



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"Who the hell was that?"

"Got me."



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They even busted out the news helicopter to follow him across the Friendship Trail Bridge.



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You know the guy next to Al is thinking, "One good gust and we're all over the side and into the drink."



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I could have done without the "sit on your face" angle.



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"Nothing like a good tailwind!"



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Just had to throw the Bike Power Salute to the garbage truck driver.



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Only 14 miles away? See you in a half-hour.


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'OLD MAN ... YOU GIVE THOSE DOGS ANOTHER PIECE OF MY MEAT AND I'M GONNA KICK YA 'TILL YOU'RE DEAD.'

I've refrained from doing the irrational exuberance thing on the Salad in the wake of the amazing 62-yard kick by Tampa Bay Buccaneers Matt Bryant to beat the Philadelphia Eagles.

I refrain no more.

Holy hell, that was one remarkable finish.

We don't win games like that. Never have in Bucs history. Ever.

As Rommie text messaged me, "I wouldn't have even bothered to put him out there."

That poor guy looked like he had never spoken into a microphone befoe during the postgame press conference. Then the mayor gave him a proclamation naming it Matt Bryant Day in Tampa. The look on his face was like watching Howard Hughes trapped in a leper colony.

That it all happened and I still had the pleasure of rewinding-slow-motioning-forward-and-then-rewinding Donovan McNabb blowing chunks on the field, well... that was a little like Christmas morning.

But still, a couple images remain for me from the broadcast.

First, there was this shot:

TampaBayBuccaneersQuarterbackBruceGradkowskiLooksAtTheClockDuringThePhiladelphiaEaglesGame.jpg

That's quarterback Bruce Gradkowski.

Look at his eyes. He's checking the clock, reading 33 seconds left. Those are not the eyes of a nervous rookie.

He was like Evel Knievel in that moment. He knew he didn't have to make it look pretty. He just had to get the back tire of the motorcycle on the lip of the landing ramp.

Now check out Matt Bryant's face:

TampaBayBuccaneersKickerMattBryantLooksAtTheClockDuringThePhiladelphiaEaglesGame.jpg

That's not a face of confidence.

That's a face that says, "Please, if thy will be done, let this cup pass from my lips."

Twenty seven seconds later, he helped turn another page in the Bucs Book of Legend and Lore. Which, you know, isn't that thick of a book.

Personally, I give credit for the win to the mascot that now adorns the porch of Casa del Ensalada.

I hereby present:

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The Diehard Fan.

(Yes, that's Abraham looking out the window.)


And now, since my traffic stats have gone through the roof with people searching for Bruce Gradkowski photos I took during training camp, here are a few more.

I'm that kind of traffic whore.

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October 18, 2006

BAND NAME

Knuckle Dap.


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'I AM KO-LON, QUEEN OF URANUS!'

People ask me all the time where I find the weird stuff that fills the Salad Bowl.

I reply, wihtout hesitation, that when you have a reputation like mine, this stuff finds its own way.

Take this morning, for instance.

My friend Chris at work e-mails:

Sent: Wednesday, October 18, 2006
To: Houck, Jeff B.
Subject: Observation

If you want a really funny shot for your blog, Marti noticed they’re taking down the letters of the Colonial Bank at the top of the building and right now it reads COLON at the top!

Catch it while you can…great view from Marti’s office, too, but I don’t have my camera…


I replied that I was out of the office at the time and couldn't get to it.

So she found someone with a camera and e-mailed me this:

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Chris reports:

It was a team effort – the always witty Marti made the keen observation and spread the news, Matt took the awesome photos and I just thought of my ever-so-bent buddy and knew you’d appreciate it more than anyone else I know…

I have the best friends on the planet.



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PAJAMAS MEDIA


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Jim Romenesko was kind enough to publish my letter about Christopher Glenn's passing this morning. I've gotten several e-mails as a result.

Sean Scully wrote, "I hear his voice in my head more clearly even than I hear Cronkite's, and we watched 'Uncle Walter' every night. Christopher Glenn was something of a forgotten icon."

John Lammers, the projects editor at the Syracuse Post-Standard, e-mailed, "How many of us owe our career choice to him?"

Mike Merschel of the Dallas Morning News wrote: "From one journalist to another, you nailed it. The sugary cereal, the Hudson Brothers (were they triplets? Or did they all just go to the same barber as the Doobie Brothers? I never figured that out), Christopher Glenn delivering real news in that great voice of his.

"I'm about to turn 40; I'm guessing you're in the same demographic. The baby boomers' icons may get all the press, but our own icons are just as important. And Christopher Glenn was a biggie."

ChristopherGlenn.jpgAs TV Squad put it before he retired in February:

Adults of "a certain age" (translation: 30 and older) might remember a CBS current-events program called In The News, which aired in between the network's Saturday morning cartoons. These short reports were able to inform young viewers about the news of the week without talking down to them or going over their heads. Most people will remember the program, though, for the distinctive voice of its narrator, Christopher Glenn, who narrated and/or reported over 5,000 episodes of the broadcast, which ran from 1971-1984.

Now comes word that Glenn, who currently works for CBS Radio, is set to retire next month, after 35 years at CBS News (that's as long as I've been alive, for crissakes!). I for one enjoyed In The News, but I rooted for Carter to win against Ford when I was 5, so maybe I was a ready-made audience for the program.

AN UPDATE: Jeff Borden of Chicago took issue with my comment about The Hudson Brothers Razzle Dazzle Show in the Romenesko posting:

Hey Jeff,

You make a great point about Christopher Glenn. Man, what a set of pipes.

However, I believe you may have unfairly maligned the Hudson Brothers. I recall laughing quite hysterically on many a Saturday morning when I was watching the program with my roommates in college. I'm reasonably sure the low-grade pot were were inhaling had absolutely nothing to do with it. At least, I think so.

Seriously, thanks for speaking eloquently about the guy. I feared he might be ill when he retired. I'm sorry those fears weren't unfounded.


I replied that it wasn't my intention to malign the Hudson Brother in the least. I hold them in the highest regard. I still remember the episode where Brett Hudson spends the entire show going, "I got a parcheesi up my nose and I can't get it down!"

If anything, the Salad can trace its genetic DNA straight back to Bill, Mark and Brett.

Speaking of which, treat yourself to a stroll down memory lane. Here's the longest show opening in TV history:


My favorite part: the very sober and serious introduction of, "...THE BEAR!"

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AND NOW...


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...your moment of Zen, shot two nights ago on the roof of the parking garage at work.

For a larger version, click here.


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October 17, 2006

I AM JACK'S SMIRKING BUNNY REVENGE

Fight Club re-enacted in 30-seconds.

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By bunnies.


Hat tip: Cupie

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BEST. SHIRT.

Ever.

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October 16, 2006

WHAT? NO PROSTATE DANISH?

It's a lovely thought, Panera. Really. I know you have nothing but altruistic intentions in mind, but please, in the name of all things holy and sacred...

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...stop.

If you're still going to sell them, for God's sake don't put raisins in them.


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'A WORLD THAT HAS NO ESCAPE'

BobLassiter.jpgIt's over; former Bay area radio talk show host Bob Lassiter has died of kidney failure.

I didn't ever listen to his show, but I vaguely remember that he was well-known while I was growing up in St. Petersburg. And I didn't run into him once I moved back into the area; he had been off the air for years by that point.

But I became incredibly moved by his blog, Blog Lassiter, which became no less than a death diary for him this years as his kidneys slowly shut down and he decided not to seek a transplant.

The blog essentially went offline on Sept. 19 with the last posting by him. Today, someone has posted some of his thoughts since then, with a final goodbye.

It's incredibly raw and painful to read. But then, you'd expect that from him.

On Sept. 25, he wrote the following:

I have chosen to keep what amounts to a diary that you will not see until the end. I am no longer able to function in the world you live in – I am no longer able to pretend that I have anything in common with everyday people. I am dying – I know it, am not at all happy about it, and have retreated into my own world – a world that has no escape.

I always thought that I would live until I died – I did not realize that it could take so long, be so hard. In some respects, it’s amazing how a body that clearly is failing clings on to life – fighting a losing battle, refusing to give in to the inevitable.

It’s one thing to sit in a doctor’s office, and be told that you are going to die – and having no real sense of what that means – and quite another experiencing the actual agonizing process. You ask what to expect, what it will feel like – you are told, but the words ring hollow until the sensation begins to kick in. The day comes where you hope that you simply fail to wake up – when life is no longer desirable – where the morning is a bitter disappointment as yet another day dawns.

Michael J. West at Blog Critics summed his appeal up well:

If you don't know Lassiter's work, he's far too complex to describe easily. I once said on the BC threads that he was "he was brilliant, honest, funny, and the meanest sonofabitch in talk-radio history." Which is all true, but it's only half the story. "Mad Dog" Lassiter prided himself on his intellectual honesty and made it a point to challenge his listeners' every belief.

Mostly he confronted Conservatives, Christians, and the elderly, but he wasn't afraid to turn on a dime and hand liberals and the young their asses (he did remain a staunch agnostic). He gauged his audience carefully, did his homework diligently, and skewered their sacred cows such that they would call him in a blind rage, when he would then rip them to shreds. But he was also capable of being extremely sensitive and revealing of his own life: "You probably know more about me than you do about your own spouse," he once said. It was no wonder that at WPLP and WFLA in Tampa Bay, he was far and away the most listened-to talk host in the market (the second most listened-to radio show, period.) Even those who despised him tuned in every day.

To learn more, check out the Wikipedia entry. You can hear examples of his work by clicking here. His Mr. Airstream call is one of the all-time best radio moments I've ever heard.


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'I AM AMAZED BY THEM
EVERY SINGLE DAY'

There's something jarring about picking up the phone and hearing my friend Drew on the other end calling from Iraq in a connection so crystal clear, it sounds like he's in the next room..

He called on Sunday for the second time since he deployed in August. I don't know why it's so jarring; maybe because you I don't expect him to be able to call, much less have time to do it.

He phoned at about 1 a.m. his time.

"My days are incredibly busy," he said. "I usually go to sleep at about 1, get up at about four and do it all over again."

When he knows he's going to not be sleeping and he has a free moment, he calls.

We talked about the Bucs and the Gators. He hadn't seen any of the games but he had heard about the results.

His wife, Susan, and their boys were back home dealing with the Hawaiian earthquake mess. They'd been without power and phone. He called to make sure they were okay.

"I told her I was worried about them," Drew says. "She said, 'You're worried about US?!?!?"

He says he's doing well. He has his good days and his bad days. The weather was good for about a week. Then the rainstorms started.

"You can't believe how good our equipment is," he said.

Soldiers today have the best equipment possible, Drew says. The vehicles are built to incredible standards. In other wars, the soldiers would be losing their eyesight and hearing in similar attacks. In this one, they have protective goggles and ear plugs to protect them.

"Other than getting sprayed in the face, they're doing okay," he says.

His battallion has lost a half-dozen soldiers since deployment, including Drew's security chief, who was killed after their convoy was hit by an RPG and then attacked with small arms fire. Drew escaped uninjured.

Drew recently was on the cover of Stars and Stripes newspaper in what has to be one of the most moving photos I've seen in years. It was taken during a ceremony honoring one of his fallen soldiers:

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Drew said he thought the photo was very moving and beautiful while also immensely painful. His main complaint:

"Frickin' Barbara Streisand is on the cover up in the corner!" he said.

What I wouldn't give to see Babs and Drew in a room together.

Drew says he's constantly impressed by the commitment and determination of his troops.

One who recently was injured was sent to Walter Reed medical center to recouperate. Drew called to check on him and the soldier said that he was getting ready for his third and final operation to repair his arm.

The soldier told Drew that he was trying to get better as soon as he could. "That's good," Drew told him. "That's what you should be doing."

Then the soldier said, "They're saying that they're not going to be sending me back."

That's right, Drew told him.

"You've gotta do everything you can to get me back there," he told Drew.

"This kid is 18," Drew told me. "I'm amazed by them every single day."


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October 11, 2006

WHAT, NO HOSTESS APPLE PIES?

Things to eat before you die.

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PRESS RELEASES FROM HELL, VOL. 34

Is someone screwing with me?

Seriously.

Some days it just feels like I'm in an episode of "Punk'd."

Like today.

I got the following e-mail press releases within a 24-minute span:


Sent: Wednesday, October 11, 2006 1:17 PM
To: Houck, Jeff B.
Subject: Superstar David Beckham Bathes in Evian

* * *

Sent: Wednesday, October 11, 2006 1:31 PM
To: Houck, Jeff B.
Subject: Expert Educates Patients About Tara Reid's Liposuction Complications

* * *

Sent: Wednesday, October 11, 2006 1:41 PM
To: Houck, Jeff B.
Subject: Local Residents Have A Chance to Win a Moment of Fame in Smucker's New Contest


Of the three, I have to say that the Smucker's pimp job offends me the most.

Beckham soaking in Evian? I could totally see that. In fact, I think my subconscious already assumed that Evian was the preferred agua for the Beckmeister to bathe in. The only way that press release could be better is if it read "Beckham drowns in Evian-filled tub."

The Tara Reid lipo press release has some merit. If only to warn people with no acting talent against plastic surgery as a cure for their dwindling career.

But Smucker's? That's just a baldface false fact. You don't get a moment of fame from winning a pressed-frozen PB&J contest. You get a nano of fame. Promising an entire moment of fame from something like this would be like telling a Hooters waitress she'd win a Toyota and then giving her this.


UPDATE: I just checked my junk mail folder. I had this lovely ditty waiting for me between the Tara and jelly missives:

Sent: Wednesday, October 11, 2006 1:32 PM
To: Houck, Jeff B.
Subject: Media Alert: Elvira's Halloween Safe Driving Tips
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October 10, 2006

HEY, LOOK WHO'S PITCHING FOR THE OTHER TEAM

Wait. That doesn't sound right.

Let's try that again:

Hey, look who's writing stories for the St. Petersburg Times' business section:

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Man about town (your town, their town and every town in between), Alan Snel of Bike Stories.

Al wrote a great story today in the Times about the retailers who were stuck with hurricane-related stock now that the Great Gods Of Wind and Destruction have decided not to smear Florida from the planet. For now.

It's an interesting glimpse at the high-wire act that is retail sales. Smart angle. Well-written. It's remarkable how much I missed seeing his byline on top of some interesting and fun stories in the Trib.

Oh well.

Anyway, as you can see in the photo above, Al is indeed keeping his day job as a bike store business marketer. I saw him last night at the Lightning game on the plaza outside the Forum That Dare Not Speak Its Name pimping the Bicycle Bash By The Bay, which comes up Oct. 29 at the Forum.

As usual, Al's making friends wherever he goes:

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Al was so excited yesterday, he called to say that Fox 13 is doing a story on the bash and that they got the helicopter up to follow him while he was biking across the Gandy Bridge with the big freaking sail attatched to his ride that could blow him into Tampa Bay at any moment Bike Bash board on the back.

The story is expected to run next week.

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The sun never sets on Al when it comes to pimpin' the bash.



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DOES IT HURT WHEN I DO THIS?

Side Salad.

No. 1 with a bullet.

At least when it coms to the phrase "tingling sensation in middle back."


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October 09, 2006

MONDAY MORNING HOUCKU

A couple years ago, I was so displeased with the direction and guidance of the Florida Gators football team that I felt compelled to craft haiku lamentations about their miserable state.

That eventually subsided when the Gators sacked Ron Zook and hired Urban Meyer to right the ship. All has been well since then. Actually, more than well.

It's great to be a Florida Gator.

But I digress.

Then the Tampa Bay Buccaneers decided to go belly-up in 2004 for a variety of reasons. Their nose dive, of course, required more haiku lamentations. Those, too, went away last season when the team began doing well.

But that's not the case this year. Anyone who has followed their story this season knows it is a tale of woe and misbegotten dreams. Quarterback loses a spleen, defense loses its teeth, coach loses his mind and calls some atrocious plays. You name it. This season has had it all. We're 0-4 and looking down the barrel of a possible winless season.

That's not to say all hope is lost:

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Bruce Gradkowski, the new quarterback, (seen above signing Salad Boy's football during summer training camp) played remarkably well on Sunday against the New Orleans Saints. But the special teams decided to take a play off and watch Reggie Bush run the ball back for three-score-plus-five yards and, well, that was the difference in the game.

So, of course, some verse is now required.

Bradley Gradkowski
Your name has five syllables.
Your team? Four losses.

Hey, special teams guys.
Next time Bush has the football,
Try tackling him.

Gradkowski's a stud.
Cadillac's found his fifth gear.
Defense? They're asleep.



Posted by Jeff at 08:22 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

A LITTLE SPUNK

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So, my position on Rachael Ray (Sad that I have one, I know. It's a professional hazard.) is one that has been one nurtured over time. At first I thought she was cute. Then she annoyed the beans out of me. Then I abruptly switched gears when I saw her FHM photo spread. Someone who has that little sense of who they are and what they could become has to be admired. Or at least pitied.

But the more digging I did, the less I found. Chefs I spoke to hated her with a level of bile you usually only find at political rallies. She has no cooking chops, she's as loud as a donkey braying into a bullhorn at the bottom of a mineshaft, and, you know, she's wayyyyyy too jumpy. So jumpy that on the first day of her new talk show (produced by Oprah Winfrey's company), she cut herself during the cooking segment.

But then I saw the October issue of Esquire. There's an article under the header "The Indefensible Position: Rachael Ray Doesn't Suck."

The author? Rachael Ray herself.

Interesting. What's she say?

Well, you can read the entire thing but here's an excerpt:

Yeah, some people find me annoying. I'm perky. I smile a lot. Hell, it's better than bawling. I speak in abbreviations. But if you had to stand there and talk to yourself for five years, you'd shorten some words, too. Yum-O? It just came out of my mouth one day, "yum" and "Oh my God" smushed together, because it was so good.

Whatever. We sold a lot of T-shirts with that one.


Moxie. The girl's got it in spades.

With that level of humility and perspective, it's time for a recount, I'd say.

Posted by Jeff at 07:41 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

BATTLE OF THE BULGE

So, a couple weeks back, a group of guys I know who run a fantasy football Web site had a convention in Phoenix to draft their teams.

During the weekend, they played football, went to see a game and did other male-bonding kinds of things.

And, as with all things male, silliness ensued.

While in the lobby of their hotel, one guy, Mike, pulled his shorts up as a joke. Snap. Someone made a photo.

That's where the fun starts.

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The key thing to note here: Mike doesn't look like this. He's an athletic, trim, upbeat, normal American male. He's not retarded, at least not in a way that any of us have noticed. He was just goofing around with the guys, that's all.

But someone posted the photo on the fantasy site after the convention. Can't remember why. I think it was during a discussion thread relating to the things women tolerate about us.

And then someone ran it through Photoshop:

MikeTaylorsBulge2.jpg

But it gets better.

I captured the doctored photo to my computer, created a Gmail account for Mike's Bulge (mikesbulge@gmail.com, of course) and then set up a MySpace page for it.

I even got the bulge some MySpace friends, including bagged spinach, Nick Nolte, Mark Foley and Mark Willard's tapeworm.

But when I went to log in, MySpace gave me an error message that the page had been taken down.

So I made another one.

Then the first one reappeared.

So now Mike's Bulge has two MySpace pages.

Personally, if I had to choose, I'd say the second one is better, even though it has fewer friends. I like that one mostly because of the photo gallery I put with it.

Moral of the story: Don't post a funny photo around Salad Man. It'll have its own cult following by the end of the day.



Posted by Jeff at 07:39 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

October 06, 2006

HEY, AUNT BEA, LET'S PICK IT UP!
I'VE GOT A LIFE TO LEAD, CHA-CHA!

DennisMiller.jpgI had the surreal experience of interviewing Dennis Miller last week for a story in the Tribune today.

As you can read in the story, I've been a fan since his SNL days and disclosed as much during the interview. Yes, I really did memorize the "Off White" album. Yes, I have the rants books. My friend Anna once downloaded the audio to all the HBO shows and sent them to me on CDs. I did, however, draw the line at watching all of "Bordello of Blood." And, quite honestly, no one went to see him and Sandra Bullock in "The Net."

So I was surprised to find how approachable he was by phone. We had to reschedule to later in the day due to a travel snafu, but he couldn't have been more apologetic when we finally talked.

We hit all the highlights: SNL, Monday Night Football, the rants. We talked about his politics and the shift into being a "known conservative" in Hollywood. "I can't live my life through the prism of whether it will play at Rob Reiner's house," he told me. Fair enough.

When I mentioned the "Off White" album, we had a funny moment where I told him that I had fixated on one line in a bit about him watching "Star Trek" while stoned to the bejeezus on pot and trying to remember which little white dot in the opening sequence turned into the Starship Enterprise:

Q: I think I dropped the phrase “incredibly potent Sao Paolo north-slope tripweed” at least 5,000 times at parties.

A: It's funny when people isolate a joke and they come up and it will sound like a vague echo of something I remember.

When I got in a corner, I used to always have this equation for jokes where I would think, “Indignation … what am I? … arcane reference.” I think that's one of those jokes I shot through that prism. That sounds like me just loading up the adjectives.




Posted by Jeff at 08:53 AM | Comments (5) | TrackBack

WRITER ON THE STORM


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If you didn't get to watch last weekend, the History Channel's Violent Earth program on the Storm of the Century was quite the impressive bit of historical television programming.

And not only because it featured frequent Side Salad contributor Willie Drye, author of Storm of the Century: The Labor Day Hurricane of 1935.

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The production values on this thing were amazing. Historical re-enactments, loads of interviews with experts and authors and lots of photographs and documents from the event. Nothing was spared. Even at two hours in length, it was compelling to watch.

And among all that clutter, Willie's expertise shone brightly and added warmth to what easily could have been a very sober retelling of body counts and damage estimates.

Great job, Willie. The Salad Bowl salutes you.

Posted by Jeff at 07:17 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

October 05, 2006

68 TIMES

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That's how many times suspected cop killer Angilo Freedman was hit by bullets after being cornered by SWAT team members in Polk County on Friday.

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That's how many times the SWAT team fired and missed suspected cop killer Angilo Freedman.

There were 110 rounds fired in all.

The news story reads:

Polk County Sheriff Grady Judd told AP that he was not concerned by the number of shots fired.

"You have to understand, he had already shot and killed a deputy, he had already shot and killed a K-9 and he shot and injured another deputy. Quite frankly, we weren't taking any chances."

On Friday, ten SWAT officers surrounded Freeland as he hid beneath brush and a fallen tree in a rural area. Later he shot with the gun belonging to the deputy he had killed, prompting nine officers to fire.

"I suspect the only reason 110 rounds was all that was fired was that's all the ammunition they had," Judd said. "We were not going to take any chance of him shooting back."

There were 10 SWAT team members. One member did not shoot.

There were 110 rounds fired.

That comes out to 12.2 bullets fired per SWAT team member.

The math of this equation does not add up.

It begs questions.

If this was such a potentially lethal situation, one which put additional law enforcement personnel in harm's way as they pursued him and cornered him in a possible gunbattle position, why did the one SWAT team member stand there while his nine other fellow team members unloaded their clips?

How do you fire .2 percent of a bullet?

How do SWAT team members, the most highly trained law enforcement shooters in the county arsenal and, theoretically, the most seasoned in terms of firing their weapons during emergencies in response to violent criminal perpetrators, hit their target with an accuracy rate of only 74.8 percent in a non-hostage situation?

Please don't misunderstand. I weep for the family and friends of Polk County Sheriff's Deputy Vernon Matthew Williams. His loss is a loss for the entire law enforcement community. I honor and respect the bravery he and his colleague Deputy Doug Speirs showed in confronting this suspect. By all accounts, Mr. Freeland was not a particularly compliant or law-abiding member of society.

Autopsy results show that Deputy Williams was killed with two bullets. One was fired at close range behind the deputy's right ear and another was fired near his right temple, with the muzzle of the gun pressing against his skin.

As the news story says:

Freeland, 27, was driving a rental car when he was pulled over. Deputy Doug Speirs asked for his drivers license but was handed a fake ID.

Several shots were fired at Speirs as he ran after Freeland, and one bullet struck the deputy's leg, authorities said.

Williams and his German shepherd police dog, Diogi, went into the wooded area looking for the suspect.

After examining the shooting scene, Judd said he thinks Freeland waited behind a large uprooted tree, where it was "virtually impossible to see him."

"I suspect he shot the K-9 first," Judd said. A single bullet killed the dog when it hit him in the chest, a necropsy determined.

Bullets hit Williams in the arms, legs and buttocks, and one lodged in his spine. Though the sequence of the shots has not been determined, it is likely the final two shots were fired into the deputy's head as the gunman stood over him.

Williams was armed with a .45-caliber semiautomatic handgun and had extra magazines of ammunition on his belt, Judd said.

"After he executed the deputy, he [Freeland] took his firearm and the magazines," Judd said.

Allegedly he was still armed with the slain deputy's gun at the time he was cornered by the SWAT team.

Despite all this, despite all the emotions and the danger, the numbers do not compute.

110 rounds.

9 SWAT team members.

68 direct hits.

Judd said after the shooting that "God will be the judge and jury this time."

Perhaps.

But it appears a judge and jury likely will be determining if you played executioner.

Posted by Jeff at 07:06 AM | Comments (4) | TrackBack

October 03, 2006

SIDE SALAD TURNS 4


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If you recognize the John Wayne Gacy cake, you know that it's time to celebrate the Salad Bowl's anniversary.

::::holding up five fingers::::

I four yeahssss olt.

Hard to believe that when I started all this, Salad Boy was in second grade, I was driving the O-Mobile and I actually had a haircut you could see.

What a difference four years makes. Absolutely none.

As I said last year, if there's one abiding principle here for what is worthy of blogging in the Salad Bowl, I'd have to refer to Jeff Goldblum's line from "The Big Chill" when his character, a reporter for People magazine, says, "pieces for publication should never be so long that they exceed the time it takes for the average reader to take an average crap."

To the Salad readers, I thank you for your patience and loyalty.

To the friends and family of the Salad, I hope I haven't shamed you unnecessarily with my actions. I know I have, I was just sharing my hope.

To the many contributors and commenters, I thank you for stoking the coals of this ugly beast.

To the spammers who fill my comments boxes with nasty, vile, disgusting, obscene links, I thank you for the inspiration and love.

So, with that in mind, here's the best from the previous year.

CRAP AT IT'S CRAPARIFFIC BEST:

Reasons why Pluto is no longer a planet.

Paging Mr. Depp.

Nobody puts Braveheart in a corner.

Wealth and fame, he's ignored. Action is his reward.

Maximum bunnage.

Happy Birfday, Salad Boy.

Big. Bam. Boom. (Slight Return)

"Look! Harold's being eaten!" "Hmmm. Makes you think, doesn't it?"

A personal plea.

These words come to me in a whisper. I say these words as a prayer ... as regret ... as praise. I say...

My breakfast with Andre.

Going on a bender.

You can't help who your relatives are.

Hangin' wit da peeps.

Time for a spin on the wheel of death.

Good eats.

Easy Bake Thanksgiving.

Resussa goes to lunch.

Out of the closet.


Posted by Jeff at 06:19 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

October 02, 2006

LETTER FROM ALASKA


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It's always with sadness that I anticipate the last e-mails I get from Alaska each year from my Uncle Pete, (yes, the one who was in the paper posing with a potato he grew that was shaped like a moose.)


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The tone in the e-mails is always wistful. He loves Alaska as I do and while coming home to Florida each October after so long away does please him, I know he is haunted by fish that went uncaught and moose and flowers and mountains and sunsets that went unphotographed.

By the time the alder leaves turn yellow and the fireweed begins to die and transform into a burnt orange, Pete knows it's time to call it a summer.

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His last mail for this year was a series of missives filled with photos, as if he couldn't bear not to take it all back with him:

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Well, the ground is just covered with fallen leaves, almost all of the trees and the mountains are covered with snow. Really beautiful but ... time to move on.

Pete

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PREVIOUS LETTERS FROM ALASKA:

Salmon in September.

Wouldn't you rather be me?

Otter confusion.

Ice, ice, baby, Part Deux.

Ice, ice, baby.

Winter's coming. Time to head south.

Space invaders.

A little snack on the porch.

The salmon don't stand a chance.

Fish tales. Big time.

The Last Fuzzy Slipper Frontier.

There's a bar in them thar country.

Flowers are a-bloomin'.

The fog rolls in.

Moose intruder.

On their way home.

Sunsets, salmon and civil ceremonies.

Volcanoes, churches and halibut.

Eagle tree, limb by limb.

A fantasy RV for The Last Frontier.

Heading north to the homestead.

Publicizing moose-shaped tubers.

Posted by Jeff at 08:59 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

BOY IN A PLASTIC BUBBLE


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Oh, I have GOT to get me one of these.

Come to think of it... I do have a snow globe...

Hmmm...



Hat tip to Katherine.

Posted by Jeff at 08:53 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack