Hey Joe

Fat cat in little box

Revenge is a dish best served cold, with a side of mullet and an ice-cold Stroh’s

My Portland sister posted this pic of me and college roommate/best buddy, John, circa 1985 on Facebook. Jesus, it looks like I'm sporting some f*cking animal on my head. And I must have had a ½ dozen of those ugly "Cosby" sweaters. And don't overlook the tight jeans, ladies.

Don't ask me what the hell we're doing in this picture. That's the SF State University parking garage, and that's the hood of my 1978 Toyota Celica, the original chick magnet, that Johns parking his butt on. I think this may have been one of those famous "Sears Catalog" poses that we were so fond of striking.

In any event, posting a goofy picture of someone on FB is akin to outing them. Payback will be sweet.

Captain America!

My Portland sister sent me this Captain America shirt a few weeks ago. See how just wearing a Captain America shirt makes one look freakin' cut. Just look at that V.

Anyway, she said she saw this shirt in Old Navy and thought of me. Not because I'm an Adonis, or a particularly big Captain America fan (though he is cool I will admit), but because of an old Capt. A comic book we had as kids. If memory serves, which it rarely does anymore, the comic book in question was hers, but during the passage of the years it ended up in a box of my old comic books, and since I've been storing it ever since, and because possession is 9/10 of the law, she is welcome to piss up a rope. But thanks for the shirt sucker!

So I dug through the old box of comics and found the mag in question; a torn to shit Captain America circa 1972. The cover is long gone and several pages have come loose, but none are missing so the story is still intact.

In this particular issue there seems to be a rogue Captain America running loose, and the Falcon is the only one who knows he's a fraud. Cap even has his own charlatan Bucky. The story begins in Harlem where Cap & Bucky are attempting to convince the Falcon that they are, in fact, the real Cap & Bucky. Their negation technique is basically to knock the tar out of him until he sees reason, but the Falcon is having none of it.

What's interesting about this particular comic book, and probably many of that time, is that by today's standards they seem rather racist. Not so much in how the African Americans are depicted – sporting big ol' afros and loud bellbottoms and using terms like "jiver," "Trash him, you dudes!", because, well, back in 1972 African Americans did sport big 'ol afros and wear loud bellbottoms.

Now whether or not they used terms like "trash him you dudes," I could not say with any degree of certainty. I was a seven year-old suburban white boy in 1972 and knew nothing of the street lingo of Harlem. But what is racist by today's standards is that Cap & Bucky both refer to the African Americans as "colored," and at one point Bucky calls the Falcon a "colored creep." Nice message to the impressionable youth of 1972. This brings to mind a distinct memory of when I was probably about 5-years old; my mother crouched down so as to be in my face, and scolding me for calling my Danville sister the N-word. I believe it was shortly thereafter that they cancelled my subscription to The Invincible Peckerwood.

Anyway, the unfortunate end to this tale is that The Falcon Fights Alone is the only issue of Captain America we had, and therefore I have no idea how the story ended. The Falcon apparently figures out who the fraud Cap is and how to stop him, but his identity was not revealed until the next issue. If anyone knows the outcome of this story please let me know. I've been in the dark for nearly 37 years.

And thanks for the shirt, Pam.

Pump it up

So Jo-Jo had himself an EKG last Wednesday.

I slept very heavy Tuesday night – much REM sleep, many dreams. I awoke on Wednesday feeling kind of fuzzy and tired. My left arm was feeling like it had gone to sleep and was taking longer than usual to wake up.

I've had this sensation before and, like most men, I've always you know, just ignored it. There is no pain involved it's just sort of annoying. But Wednesday I figured, "You know, I'm not 25 anymore," and since I don't have a job to take time off from I took myself over to John Muir's Urgent Care for a look-see.

The blood pressure was good, but just to be safe our young Dr. Kwan thought an EKG would be prudent. You'll be happy to know that, despite the pictures below that clearly indicate the contrary, Joe is the picture of perfect health, or at least there doesn't appear to be anything amiss with the old pumper.

The poster of Shingle Girl below was hanging in the examination room. Boy, does she ever look like one pissed off old biddy; like "You sons of bitches never told me about the serious potential risk of Shingles." So be warned. If you've had the pox, you are at risk. Now you know.

Prayers and good vibes please

My nephew is currently in the children's section of the ICU at UC Davis Medical Center dealing with pneumonia and other complications.

He was brought down from Butte County Monday by ambulance after it was determined that the local clinic was not equipped to deal with such extreme cases, and his case was bad. Lisa and other family members spent Tuesday at the hospital while Donald had surgery Tuesday to scrape out his lungs. He spent last night sedated with a breathing tube down his throat and another tube draining the fluids. Apparently this morning his blood pressure dropped and he went into some sort of shock. My understanding is that the infection somehow got into his blood, which then required a blood transfusion. At this time he remains sedated. Lisa will likely go back up on Friday or Saturday. My brother-in-law and the family appreciate any prayers anyone cares to float up.

11-1-09 - Update

The lad has had his ups and downs, though overall he's been improving. The breathing tube has been removed and he was thought to be well enough to move to a semi-private room, however I guess his blood pressure then dropped again and he was having difficulty breathing w/out the aid of an oxygen mask, so now he's back in ICU. Apparently this is all the result of undiagnosed strep, which is how the infection got into his blood stream.

 

Thank you to all who have offered their prayers and good vibes and have been concerned enough to write. All are appreciated.

R.I.P. – Soupy Sales

        

Soupy Sales

1926 – 2009

He's dead. What else can I say, other than it was a smart move changing his name from Milton Supman to Soupy Sales.

Elevenses – another downside to unemployment.

"Joe, where have you been? We know you're unemployed so, what's the deal with the posting drought?" – Concerned Reader, if any reader were concerned enough to actually write.

Because I know you care, the other day I toasted and consumed my usual morning English muffin before taking the boy to school. Upon my return I fried up a couple of eggs with some sourdough toast to enjoy with the last of my coffee. By 11:00 I was heating up some left-over Chinese food. At 1:00 I was reheating some pizza.

It has become painfully obvious that I'm going to have to make a concerted effort not to graze (though arguably a couple of slices of pizza probably goes beyond grazing) during my tenure at home. I've been feeling very tired and listless lately, and I'm guessing that pizza normally isn't prescribed for a quick energy boost. I pray to God that I'm wrong, and if anyone has evidence to the contrary please forward it to me, toot-sweet.

Today, however, I'm proud to say that I watched some of Gangs of New York. Well, that's not exactly what I'm proud of, but while I was watching it I did a brisk, 20-minute walk on the treadmill. How do you like them apples? And for the rest of the day my energy level was much better. Exercise – who knew?

Lest you think I'm spending a lot of time watching TV (or are not yet convinced as to exactly how big of a goober I am), I also pulled out my old Bearcat Scanner that's been hidden away for a years.

Our home is close to a major thoroughfare and we hear a lot of sirens. Nosy bastard that I am, I'm always wondering what's up? It's kind of fun to listen in on the happenings of our local coppers – perhaps responding to a domestic dispute, liquor store hold-up, or city park flasher – while sweeping the floor or folding a load of laundry. And let's face it, how cool would it be to listen in while the cops were involved in a high-speed pursuit only to discover that they're chasing your next door neighbor?

Scanners are pretty neat. I first discovered them during a visit with Lisa's grandparents in Wisconsin. See her grandfather had an old scanner on the table in their kitchen nook, and we'd have it on in the evenings while playing cards. When we returned from our visit well you can bet that I hustled myself right on over to The Base Station, a now defunct CB Radio shop in downtown Concord, and picked me up my very own scanner and a book of all the local radio frequencies. Great fun!

Lord do I need to find a job, stat.

Because I know you care

So I had Sears out this morning to do a little D&C on the old refrigerator. Figure we have the service contract and it's free and all, so we'd be crazy not to take advantage of it, am I right? I said am I right?

So here's Fridge-Boy sucking out about 2 lbs of dust and cat hair from betwixt the coils of yon cooling unit. Good Lord, but my life is exciting.

So this afternoon the boy comes home, right? And he pulls my old trombone (joke in there somewhere) out of the trunk of my car, because of course he has to mess around with anything that makes a lot of noise.

It's been in my old bedroom closet at my parent's house since 1979. I'm considering selling it to KC and Jenny for their boy, though, I'm not sure they'll want it because, well it's old and has seen quite a bit of action from my wild days as a Mustang with the Pine Hollow Marching Band. Hoo boy, if that trombone could talk, the stories it would tell! Crazy stories. Arousing-ly sordid stories full of excess and hot chicks. Mind you, it would have nothing to say about my not getting any chicks in the band, or about throwing up in my own lunch bag after a long bus ride, or about how this a-hole drummer used to always call me a wop, or about how, as an 8^th grader, I was rank and section leader of the trombones and how at practice I used to have to march my crew, a bunch of smartass 7^th graders, around the halls of Pine Hollow, and how they never listened to nor respected my authority. No, sir, none of those rank and putrid falsehoods would cross its bell.

Now if you'll excuse me I have pizza to eat, and Vincent Chase, Turtle, Lisa and the rest of my Entourage are waiting on me.

R.I.P. – Captain Lou Albano

Louis Vincent Albano

1933 – 2009

 

Pro wrestler and music video icon, (I stole that from the headline) Captain Lou Albano died today of natural causes.

Not sure what "natural causes" means exactly. Wouldn't any non-accidental death be considered a natural cause?

Albano gained world-wide fame as Cyndi Lauper's father in the 1983 "Girls Just Want to Have Fun" music video. Back when MTV actually played music videos, this one was in ultra heavy rotation.

Apropos of his death, Albano and I share a birthday, July 29. And here I thought the only "famous" people who shared my birthday were Melvin Belli , Peter Jennings and the Black Dahlia. But enough about me.

So anyway, Albano is dead. What more do you want to know?

Rainy Tuesday

 

Soggy streets.

I was on a ladder at 7:15 yesterday morning scooping out my gutters. I'm thinking it probably makes more sense to clean the gutters before it rains; but I'm not an expert on these things.

At least the fence is still standing

Nellie, who normally disappears outdoors from 7:00 to 7:00, opted instead to take a nice, long nap.

Jackie enjoyed the fact that she got to stay warm and dry yesterday.

Sonny never travels very far from food and shelter.