Seven and a half years later, today’s the day.
With apologies to Truman Capote, this is my new favorite Christmas memory.
In the words of Linus Van Pelt…
“Lights, please!”
Seven and a half years later, today’s the day.
With apologies to Truman Capote, this is my new favorite Christmas memory.
In the words of Linus Van Pelt…
“Lights, please!”
I lived the first 30 years of my life in upstate New York. Binghamton, to be exact. (Eight inches of snow yesterday but that’s hardly news.)
This is still technically “home.”
As I have said many times, I only go home for gigs and funerals.
For once it’s not a funeral.
Monday night I’m bringing the act to the Goodwill Theatre in Johnson City, a mile and a half from my childhood home.
Tickets are still available.
And for more information, check out today’s episode of Math and Musings.
The latest sensation to hit the Internet these days, of course, is “Pilk,” the unholy combination of Pepsi and milk touted by, among others, actress Lindsay Lohan.
“Grasping at straws,” is how I’d describe that one.
Drinking straws, no doubt.
Also known as a “dirty soda,” the pairing of soda and milk has been around for some time. I mean, we all tried mixing things together when we were growing up, right? In those days before YouTube kept us occupied? To me the Pepsi-Cola company, here, is just trying to monetize what’s basically a baking soda volcano–a neat trick but not much else.
For a hundred years Coca-Cola has been the beverage of Christmas, no question. Remember when Fuller drank Pepsi in the original Home Alone? That faux pas should have made him the one they left at home. On purpose. (And remember in Home Alone 2 when every five seconds someone is either drinking a Coke or looking at an advertisement for a Coke? Yeah, that’s no accident.)
“Pilk” is a desperate attempt by Pepsi Inc. to horn in on Coke’s holiday territory. I’m not falling for it.
Thirty years after being a child star and decades into her grownup stardom Lindsay Lohan is still bringing it.
But it’ll take a Christmas miracle to save this one.
In a season of festive days and celebrations, December 12 is certainly one of my favorites.
Among other things it’s the anniversary of the birth of one Francis Albert Sinatra, high priest of classy and cool.
It was many years ago that I began celebrating the Sinatra compleanno with a glass of his signature beverage: the sour mash whiskey produced in Lynchburg, Tennessee, known as… Jack Daniel’s.
Before the world was overrun by girly cocktails and macchiatos with skim milk there was Jack Daniel’s.
Every once in a while you should have one to remind you what a real drink tastes like.
Some years after I began this tradition I began paring it with another. Perhaps related or perhaps unrelated as an amusing gag I started reading Truman Capote’s “A Christmas Memory” on December 12, accompanied by the aforementioned beverage. I call it “Jack and Capote.” On the literary side it’s perhaps my favorite short story of all time, and I’ve been reading it every year at Christmastime since before I was allowed to pair it with a grownup beverage.
Tonight it’ll be Jack Daniel’s.
Like Sinatra.
I may not have written the book on movies, but I did write a book on movies, several of which I’ve enjoyed watching over the past two weeks. As you may be aware, there are certain movies that should be watched at certain times of the year, and Christmastime is Exhibit A.
For a further discussion, buy a copy of my book.
In a hurry? Listen to today’s episode of Math and Musings.
Last week we received word that my wife’s childhood babysitter had passed away. She was 94 years old, and by all indications had lived a full life.
I aspire.
Though my wife had not seen her in over 20 years it was still sad. A death is always sad, regardless of whether it’s expected, surprising, or involves someone you hadn’t talked to in years.
Or you knew him but he didn’t know you.
Enter one of my childhood babysitters, Bob McGrath.
Truth be told I never met Bob McGrath. I just hung out with him every afternoon for a solid decade or so. Like my wife and her former babysitter I hadn’t seen Bob in over 20 years (closer to 30, actually), but news of his death this week was as sad as if I’d just seen him ’round the old neighborhood.
The neighborhood?
Sesame Street, of course.
Bob McGrath played “Bob” on Sesame Street for nearly half a century, and was one of the show’s most popular humans for several generations of fans. A graduate of the Manhattan School of Music, McGrath was an accomplished musician and actor, but everyone knows him simply as “Bob” from Sesame Street. By all accounts he was just as kind and gentle in real life as he was on the show; the sweater wasn’t an affectation. He’d been married to Mrs. McGrath since 1958 and they had five children and eight grandchildren on top of the millions who saw him as such on TV. Basically he’s the reason Mr. Rogers rarely came to Sesame Street; they already had a Mr. Rogers.
R.I.P. Bob McGrath. Thanks for the memories.
I’ve said for years that one of the weakest things about soccer is that games can end in ties.
With all eyes on Earth watching the World Cup yesterday what do we get?
A couple of blowouts.
Awesome.
And in real football? For my local team?
A damn tie.
Just what every dad doesn’t want for Christmas.
I don’t usually rely on clickbait expressions to attract listeners to my content, though I do use a provocative word in the title of today’s episode of Math and Musings.
Nothing sexy or scandalous, just something always on everyone’s mind…
Gas prices!
You’re welcome.
Today’s hot take: the last few days of November, from Thanksgiving until December 1st, are the most useless days of the year. You just want November to be over so Christmas can be in full swing.
Of course if you’ve gone in any stores recently you know the Christmas shopping season started in about September, but we’re trying to be a little more reasonable here.
I’ve never seen the Johnny Depp version of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and I’ve never seen the Jim Carrey version of How the Grinch Stole Christmas.
If God himself rewrote the Bible or if Tchaikovsky rescored The Nutcracker I wouldn’t touch either one. Hence the trepidation with which I watched A Christmas Story Christmas this weekend.
Tell God it’s possible.
Starring “Ralphie” himself (Peter Billingsley, in what to me is the only movie role he’s ever played), A Christmas Story Christmas features not only Billingsley but nearly every actor who appeared in the original A Christmas Story almost 40 years ago. Most of these actors were children in the ’80s (so was I!) and have done, like, presumably, real jobs in recent decades. That we don’t have professional actors but the “real” Randy, Flick, Schwartz, Scut Farkus, etc. makes it more authentic. A company of Tony-winning, Shakespeare-quoting, Julliard graduates couldn’t have done it better.
Okay, so A Christmas Story Christmas isn’t exactly Citizen Kane. It doesn’t have to be. It’s just fun to watch, and the more you’ve seen the original (for me personally I’ll bet it’s north of 300 times) the more you are rewarded with the slightest nods and subtle tributes. “Homage” is probably an overused word, but here it is apt. The boys here have done the original justice, and I think Jean Sheperd would approve. That’s Billingsley himself doing the narration, and he does a worthy Shep while keeping his own unique voice. This borders on a Christmas miracle.
It’s worth noting that in this new film Ralphie is about 40 years old. (He’s nine in the original and the sequel is 33 years later, so I guess he’s 42.) He’s got a wife, a house, two kids (one up on me there), but yeah, he’s basically me. Of course as I watch movies like Hook or Christmas Vacation or a million other family movies, Christmas and otherwise, I’m the dad in the story now. Usually the clueless dad as these tropes go. The main plot point is doing whatever you can for your kids. At Christmas you just want to make the season magical as your parents did for you.
And to quote another holiday philosopher…
That’s what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown.