World Series is On!

Well, the World Series is under way--and the Yankees and Phillies are tied at one game apiece. Will it be Cheesesteaks or Pizza that carries the day? Let's look at comparison of the cities:

1) Yankees have Steinbrenner and Donald Trump. Point goes to Philly.

2) Philly has Joey Lawrence and rock star Pink. Point goes to NY.

3) Philly has lower cost of living. Point goes to Philly.

4) New York gets a view of New Jersey. Point goes to Philly.

5) Philly gets a view of New Jersey. Point goes to NY.

6) New York had Billy Joel sing a song about it ("New York State of Mind"). Point goes to NY.

7) Philly had Elton John--the British Billy Joel--sing a song about it ("Philadelphia Freedom"). Point goes to Philly.

Looks like a push! Now, why do they call it the World Series when only American teams (okay, maybe one Canadian team) can compete? After all, if the Yankees and Phillies won their respective League championships, and say Germany were to say "whoa, if you want to win the WORLD SERIES, you're going to have to play our top team, the Munich Reichstaggers!", they'd be laughed off the field. Why then do we call it "World Series" instead of a more accurate "North American Series" or "New World Series" or "Big Baseball Game Thing"?

According to my friend who goes by the handle "Desert Fox", and is quite the Yankee fan (attending a game this weekend), "the World Series was originally intended to be a championship tournament among various nations, sort of like the Olympics or World Cup--the idea back in the day was that baseball would take off on a worldwide basis, with Major League teams around the world. Although teams haven't expanded beyond the U.S. and Canada--the game is in fact popular in Japan and Latin America, but it hasn't led to Major League franchises there--the name 'World Series' was catchy, and it stuck."

Well, I for one hope some day the Japanese League and the Caribbean League and the Mexican League are soon fielding teams of a sort that can compete for the World Series. But I doubt fans in Mexico will be happy to pay five bucks for a hot dog.

Good Grief, Great Pumpkin!

One of the few moments in my childhood when the cacophony of yelling and hyperactive activity would die down and everyone would shut up for a short while was when a Charlie Brown special would come on TV. This time of year it would be "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown!" which would help overcome the misery of the beginning of the school year. As an adult, I still try to catch it every now and then. Sort of a reminder of childhood that didn't involve my brother throwing things into the fireplace or my sister getting milk poured on her head. Ah, to be a kid again!

For those of you who were too poor to own a TV, or those of you who just hate America so much that you're unfamiliar with the Peanuts gang, I'll summarize--the "Great Pumpkin" special involved a group of cartoon schoolchildren who couldn't wait to put on their white sheets and go around the neighborhood demanding candy from adults who had voices that sounded like trumpets being tuned. (Of course, it's not advisable to go around town in a group that is ALL wearing white sheets, lest the neighbors think it's a Ku Klux Klan rally and you end up on Jerry Springer). Lucy, who was sort of ahead of her time as a feminist and psychiatrist (she'd offer psychiatric help for 5 cents, and tell Charlie Brown things like "direct a school play" when he comes to her with serious concerns about his crippling depression), would dress as a witch. Pigpen, who represented the urban proletariat what with his clouds of dust, was recognizable for his filthy sheet. Charlie Brown, the hapless loser, had cut his sheet full of holes and would have been better off pretending to be Swiss Cheese. The trumpet-sounding adults would torment Charlie by giving him rocks instead of candy. (It is a wonder he didn't later star in "Put the Gun Down, Charlie Brown!")

Snoopy, who was Charlie's pet beagle, would in the meantime fly his doghouse into a WWI air battle (this was created in the mid-60s around the time LSD became popular) and then ended up crashing the kids' Halloween party. When Lucy bobs for apples, she'd inadvertently end up smooching with the dog. Despite her histrionics after discovering she was kissing Snoopy, I think the lady doth protest too much!

But the main focus of the special is Linus, who is Charlie Brown's loyal sidekick. He decides to forgo trick-or-treating and wait in a pumpkin patch for some monster called "The Great Pumpkin" who apparently shows up for kids of faith, and gives them all sorts of riches and rewards. This may be a religious allegory, but in the end--SPOILERS!--the Great Pumpkin never shows up. Is this the creator--Charles Shultz--telling us that there is no God? Or did the Great Pumpkin simply never appear because Linus wanted tangible benefits like riches and candy? Was this Shultz's way of telling us to live our lives well and enjoy it, because we find God in our everyday happenings? Had Linus gone with the other kids he would have still gotten candy, and perhaps the Great Pumpkin would have shown up when needed. Maybe to smite Lucy for her Wiccan beliefs!

Puerto Rico Trip Recap

This past weekend I took a "guys trip" to Puerto Rico to celebrate the impending fatherhood of an old friend of mine, Nick. Most of our usual "guys night out" crowd bailed on the trip, due to budget reasons, work conflicts, or in some cases extreme lame weak sauce "look at me I can't do anything fun so everyone treat me like a martyr"-itis. But Nick and I and his friend from New York (who also went to law school with us, though I didn't know him too well then) were able to make it. Let's call this friend "Death Wish" because it is quite clear that he lives by the motto "Safety Last".

DW is evidently a very intelligent person--former Fullbright scholar, Wharton and Georgetown Law grad, and has devoted his career to public interest projects. What makes him different is this hard charging devotion to experiencing what it's like to live in poverty. He has lived in the shanties of Nigeria, and evidently spent a year of law school living in a van. Ever read the book "Into the Wild" about that kid who graduated Emory, gave up all his stuff and went roughing it in the deserts and finally Alaska without adequate equipment? That's sort of like DW.

We meet at the San Juan airport and learn that DW very nearly missed his flight out of JFK (Idlewild Airport for those of you who refuse to accept the hard-on that society seems to have for the Kennedys). What could it be that caused the delay? Traffic tie-up? Bomb scare? Trying to bring a bag of switchblades on the flight?

Nope--it turns out there was a dispute with the cab driver over the proper fare to the airport. The cabbie insisted that the flight would cost $45 flat fee, DW argued that it is supposed to be on the meter--which would have run about $32. They called the police to resolve this dispute.

The policeman agreed with DW, but apparently the delay over a $13 difference was enough to cut it very close. However, he did catch his flight and we were soon checked into the hotel and hitting the beach.

And what a beach it was! The weather was solid--90 degrees and sunny each day; the waves were high and the water was as warm as a bath. Unlike a lot of beaches, drinking was allowed on these so we stocked up on Medalla beer and did what we do best--drunken swimming. Did I find myself wiping out in many of the waves? Indeed! Did I get massive sunburn? And how!

DW for his part tried on a few occasions to use the offer of beer to strike up a conversation with some local girls, and by "girls" I mean he really should have asked for ID because they didn't look old enough to buy cigarettes. Still, nothing came of it and I don't think Puerto Rico has a law against attempted statutory rape. After all, they don't give out Nobel Prizes for Attempted Chemistry, do they? (Granted, they just gave out a Nobel Prize for Attempted Peace....)

The real fun began when some guy walked by with about six dogs on leashes. The biggest dog decided to start using the smallest dog as a chew toy, and the owner was having a go of it smacking the big dog to make it stop. DW, being a man who can't stand to see an oppressed beagle, had to run across the beach and insert himself between the two dogs. Or more accurately, insert his hand between the jaws of the big dog.

So now he had to run back to the hotel to get his hand disinfected and bandaged, while Nick and I asked the owner whether his dogs had been vaccinated. Because frankly, there's a very good chance the dogs could catch rabies from biting DW. I mean, this guy lived in Nigeria and had just gotten back from Thailand!

Fortunately, he was mended quick, and drinking beer on the beach with us in no time. At night we managed to find some nice local cuisine--Mafongos at a Puerto Rican place one night, and some Italian the next. During this time DW told us of his trip to Thailand and expressed surprise that neither Nick or I had ever used a prostitute, pretty much the same way I'd have reacted if someone told me they'd never drank a soda. But after hearing some of what went down in Bangkok I'm more sure than ever that I will never use a prostitute!

We also made it into Old San Juan, which is a neighborhood of restored old-style buildings and cobblestone, more European-seeming than Latin American. This is also where a number of bars and clubs were, and we visited a few. One thing they all have in common is they're much louder than bars back in the States--music blares well into the streets. Another thing? Every single woman on the streets had very high stiletto heels on. And mind you these were cobblestone streets. Impressivo!

Our third night we tried to find a Mexican place that was recommended by our hotel, but we got a bit lost. Lost in a rather ghetto-ized section of San Juan! At this point, I was ready to turn back, regroup and maybe hit one of the restaurants we'd been to the night before or at least find a McDonalds so we might get the quick energy calories to survive the walk back. But then, DW was in his element! (I mentioned he has a thing for poverty?) He saw an over the counter chicken joint, and made his case for why we should eat there. This rather greasy chicken joint was "authentic" and "what the Puerto Ricans eat". I tried to point out that real Puerto Ricans are different from us in that if they have the money to not eat in places like this they wouldn't. Nick tried to point out that there wasn't adequate seating, but DW was having none of it--he asked the joint owner for an extra chair and we were soon sitting down. He also picked out some generic soda that was a cross between toothpaste and death. Thirsty as I was from the chicken, I couldn't get more than a couple sips down. But some good came out of it--DW got his poverty fix! I suppose from having his hand maimed by the dogs earlier he had earned it.

All in all, though, it was a fun trip--Nick keeping us in stitches and some eclectic characters and stories throughout. Now as I nurse my peeling sunburn, I can say I can't wait to make it back to that island. But this time no greasy chicken shacks!

Things to Know When Flying

Got back from Puerto Rico last night and will recount the misadventures of this trip soon. But it seems that every time I fly, I learn new and exciting things! Such as:

1) When you pass gas on the airplane, and have your headphones on, just because you can't hear it doesn't mean that the guy sitting next to you can't hear it either.

2) Apparently two shifty looking and heavily sunburned Italian guys can make it through security with large coconuts in their bags (yes we're hoping to start a super race of palm trees in DC). But if one of those guys is trying to bring his sunblock, he might as well have "Al Quaeda Class of 2001" stamped on his bag.

3) Any man or woman thinking about having a precious little snowflake of a kid should spend some time listening to someone else's precious little crotchfruit screeching two rows behind them for a 3 hour trip.

4) Apparently if the hippie girl in your row is scared of flying, she will drink a lot of red wine and spill a bit of it on her shaggy boyfriend.

5) A coconut in your bag is a burden. A coconut in your bag is a doubly painful burden when you're carrying the bag over your shoulder which was heavily sunburned.

6) Direct flights are really the only way to go.

The Ghostest With the Mostest

In our discussions of the awesomeness of werewolves, people have said "hey Brando, you mention werewolves, zombies and vampires--what, no love for Frankensteins, mummies or ghosts?" I shall address these in turn.

First, mummies are basically zombies covered in toilet paper. Undead, slow moving, yep--zombies basically. And let's face it--much like Nile crocodiles and Moses, you only really have to worry about them if you're in Egypt. And anyone encountering one only has to put a foot on one of their wrappings and watch it unravel, making the now naked mummy very embarrassed.

Frankensteins (yes, I know it's actually Frankenstein's monster, as Frankenstein was the scientist, but I'm assuming the monster took the name as well. It just wouldn't be as scary if we were talking about "Floyd, who happens to be the monster made by Dr. Frankenstein)--well, they had a run most recently in the 1970s, with the blaxsploitation film "Blackenstein" (that monster was one bone-crushing soul brother!) and the lesser-known jewsploitation film "Frankensteinberg" (that mensch had some serious heartburn! Oy vey!), but they haven't caught on in the modern era. This is partly because the monster himself was actually quite sympathetic--a dumb, unthinking beast that just never learned to love. Sort of like Rosie O'Donnell, but where you actually felt bad about trying to kill it with fire.

As for ghosts? Well that's an omission on my part--ghosts are just plain scary, especially in the Japanese horror (or "J-horror" as they call it) era of the last ten years. "The Ring" and "The Grudge" (as well as lesser known retreads) got a whole generation of viewers scared of petite Japanese women! Confession--I had a Japanese-American girlfriend about a year ago (who doesn't read this blog far as I know) who once snuck up on me and I nearly shat myself. Of course, anyone startling me like that could have given me such a reaction, but let's just say if she had crawled out of a television set that would have sent me right to the grave.

As for Japanese ghost-women, seriously what's with the TV set crawling? They never really explained why the ghost used TV as a medium. And to think, the only people safe from such a ghost would have been those intellectual snobs who brag about not having a TV set.

How to Spot a Werewolf

A few years back, I remember walking from bar to bar in Portland when a friend of mine noticed the full moon, and for no particular reason I said to her "now would be a good time to tell you I suffer from werewolfism so you might want to watch out if I start foaming at the mouth". Rather than ignore this, since of course werewolves are mythological, she pointed out that in fact she had seen me on many full moon nights without transforming into any animal whatsoever, and therefore it was likely that I was not a werewolf at all. I remember thinking wow, she put more thought into that line of conversation than it deserved.

But with the end of the month approaching, we should all be aware that the moon affects many things, besides ocean tides, menstrual cycles (sorry ladies!) and lunacy (hence the root word, "luna" which is Latin for white fish). Is it possible that some friends among us suffer from werewolfism? One of my college roommates had an intense amount of back hair--he is of Iranian descent--but far as I could tell he didn't roam the streets slaughtering prey once a month. Or maybe he did--I wasn't the boss of him! But look for the following warning signs if you're afraid that a friend or loved one is a werewolf:

1) Comes over to your house and spends more time with your dog than you're comfortable with.

2) When you're having a cookout, he asks if he can just eat the steaks raw and unseasoned.

3) When you go target shooting with him, he keeps asking you to assure him that none of the ammunition you're using has any silver in it.

4) He listens to far too much Warren Zevon.

5) Every time you want to be buzzed in to his apartment, he asks whether there are any townspeople with torches trying to come in with you.

Wolfpersons Rule

With the upcoming Halloween season, not enough attention has been paid to Wolfmen (and Wolfwomen, for that matter). Sure, zombies have been big for a while--from the George Romero "Living Dead" series, where all you had to do to defeat a zombie was walk a bit fast, to the "28 Days Later" zombies which can run like Carl Lewis and don't seem all that interested in BRAIIINNS. And Vampires have always been popular, dating from the Christopher Lee and Bela Lugosi Draculas to the Buffy Vampire Slayer and teenybopper Twilight vampires. (Though I find the less charming and more frightening "Nosferatu" style animalistic vampires far more compelling!) But Wolfpeople have been getting short shrift by the pop culture--there hasn't been a good wolf movie since "American Werewolf in London" and that was a comedy.

Here's why wolfmen are better than zombies and vampires:

1) They only have to work once a month, so they totally make it worth it.

2) They're not scared of dogs, so they can totally hide under your porch if they have to.

3) Unlike vampires, they aren't scared of garlic, crosses, or sharp sticks. Only a silver bullet can do them in, and who keeps silver bullets around?

4) They can probably be tamed which would be pretty cool. Feeding one could be a bitch though.

5) Werewolves can act totally normal when it's not a full moon. Zombies and vampires are weird all the time.

6) At least one Wolf Man--Wolfman Jack--has been a successful rock and roll dee jay. How many vampires have been successful in broadcasting? Except Keith Olbermann, zero! And Zombie Glenn Beck is just no Wolfman Jack.

7) Pale skin or a lot of fur? We'd mostly prefer pale skin in dating partners, but these are monsters, people--fur is much more effective in keeping warm and deflecting attacks.

I think I presented a pretty solid case.