Let's Hear It For Sully

Caveat: This post is not about Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman.

I'm sure you've seen the outstanding pictures of an even more outstanding feat by now, but This Guy has a pair that must require special drawers. Sure, his knees are probably still shaking now, but imagine how elated he's going to feel tomorrow.

So I was dining on Hamburger Helper and a fine cabernet sauvignon tonight, and reflecting on how easy it is for someone like me to fill his head with inconsequential information these days. This morning on the radio I heard "Stop Draggin' My Heart Around" and could not remember who sang it. Fifteen years ago, I would've asked everyone I knew (with no luck)and then spent the whole day trying to remember. Sometime in the evening I would've remembered my Weird Al tape that had "Stop Draggin' My Car Around" and also remembered that the writer of the song being parodied was always credited in the liner notes. So if the writer was the singer, I could find out as soon as I got off work. I would've gotten home and found that this particular cassette had no liner notes, and at that point I'd've had to call a radio station or something. Now, 5 seconds on the internet and I don't have to wonder anymore. Then I spend the next two hours finding out stuff that I have no reason to know, except for the hope that I do better at trivia. I packed all kinds of knowledge into my head. Also, I forgot to pay both my credit card bills last month. But did you know that Brian Keith played Hardcastle in "Hardcastle and McCormick?" That was a trivia question earlier tonight.

Just now I read about Brian Keith. His mother was Peg Entwistle, an actress who committed suicide in 1932 by jumping off the H in the Hollywood (Hollywoodland) sign. She was in plays in Boston, Los Angeles and Broadway. I was thinking how cool it would be to live in the 20s and 30s, and not be poor, and go to plays and such, and wear a suit and hat without it being a costume. And then I thought about what's going on right now that I'm missing. Someday when I'm old or dead some kid is going to say "I wish I could have lived in the aughts." Aught nine, year of the drought. My goal is to write something someday that that kid will read. I think I need to practice. My first step is to remember how to write a sentence without having the word "that" twice in a row.

The weather in San Bernardino has been more like mid-October than January. Windy, warm and dry. The other day, when the weather was exceptionally like this, I was behind a girl in a Mitsubishi Montero that had a sticker on the back which read "Coalition For An Idiot Free America." Would you be surprised if I told you she threw her lit cigarette out the window? It was so big that she obviously only smoked half of it, and left the other half for the wind to smoke.

That reminded me of a story that I wrote exclusively in my blog about a year ago, about a guy who wishes that every piece of trash thrown out a window would come right back in. It caused chaos, and yet people didn't learn. That blog is gone so I'll have to rewrite it one of these times.

So, no original poetry today. I started a good Christmas one that I have yet to finish. But I'm really looking forward to it.

Ta ta for now.