The Blog Of No Return

I will simply never understand rich people. I think I could understand them, and I'm willing to try if they would just come down and live on Earth with the rest of us humans. But they insist on staying on some plane of existence where everything serves their needs and actions have no consequences.

Case in point: I went to my physical rehabilitation appointment this morning to work on my pathetic lower back. So far so good, everything went well, and there was a spring in my step as I exited the building. But parked right next to the door was this huge Cadillac SRX minivan monstrosity, its engine running with nobody around. I conferred with another woman in the parking lot and we agreed that some elderly person must have inadvertantly left it running and forgotten it when they went inside for rehab.

Turns out it belonged to a middle-aged woman inside, who calmly continued peddling the exercise bike, jewelry jingling as she informed us that the car was running for her little doggie who was inside. In other words, god forbid her dog should have to come inside the waiting room and breathe the same air as us poor folk. Far better to pump an hours' worth of Cadillac exhaust into the Earth's beleaguered atmosphere, right? Oh, and the kicker: the license plate read "Marathon Yacht Club, Florida Keys".

Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, rich lady?!

This morning I watched "Death Trip," a Hooker episode from May 14, 1986. What this means is that including the other episode on the Tivo, I only have three more episodes of Hooker. Khaaannn!!!

The episode was a clear example of how far the show had fallen by season 5. Sure, Zmed is but a distant, annoying memory, but that can't hide the fact that everyone on the show is tired, the writers most of all. The episode had no less than 4 fucking car chases. FOUR! Talk about a lazy way of keeping things "interesting." And we the audience know from the get-go that only the chase in the last 10 minutes will nab the suspect, because if the first three chases got him then the episode would be 15-25 minutes long.

Shatner's acting seems to have been getting a little sloppy too. The first few seasons were full of crackerjack line delivery from Will. You could feel his intensity coming across, along with his enthusiasm for the material. He WAS the law-devoted TJ Hooker, ready to buck the system if it meant taking down scum. Now the uniform seems like a costume, as he flaccidly delivers lines to female informants, lazily bantering with them with an easy smile Hooker never had before in the series. He kind of just looks at them and grins, then trips over his lines and kind of shrugs off their lame advances, instead of just buying them dinner like he did the first few years.

They've neutered the character, which goes right along with the fact that he and the other cops have just become paper dolls in a thin plot. It's always the same: every episode in season 5 has a car explosion and someone getting pulled out just in time, several car chases, young female witnesses who reluctantly accept police protection, and utterly boring villains. I can see why season five was truncated, consisting of just 18 episodes. Even the last episode, where partners James Darren and Heather Locklear hook up, pulled the rug out at the last minute by having them decide to just remain friends and maintain the show's status quo. So much for character development.

There was one good thing to come out of this latest episode. In the final scene, where Hooker once again meets with the female witness to deliver more reassuring platitudes, he wishes her luck in her quest to discover herself and her relationship with her dad. Pretty standard stuff, nothing special. Then he gets into his car and pauses for one moment. The old Hooker twinkle is in his eyes as he leans out the car window and says, "You know, it's a battle to live in peace...don't you ever surrender."

Don't you ever surrender either, Bill. It may not have survived its own fifth season, but the early Hookers remain good, dumb fun to this day. So long and thanks for all the fists.

I like to watch hookers.

Yes indeed I do, and this morning I was staring at a fine Hooker indeed. An episode of William Shatner's TJ Hooker TV show, that is. In this episode, officer Jim Corrigan (James Darren) takes a fall while apprehending a suspect, and damages the part of the brain that controls rage. I think you know where this is going. Officer Corrigan starts beating the shit out of suspects left and right, then he goes home to relax. Unfortunately, he drops a beer on the floor. Now that wouldn't be much of a big deal except that in his rage-fueled stupor...he opens the beercan in his face. Oooohh, I am so mad! he seems to say, as he tears down his bookshelf and his liquor cabinet. His good buddy Hooker comes to the rescue and arrives just in time to roll around the shag carpeting with Corrigan, finally coming to rest with Corrigan facedown on the floor and TJ dryhumping him disturbingly from behind. Or maybe TJ is just holding him down until the paramedics arrive, I've forgotten now. Corrigan pleads: "I'm so scared right now! Help me!"

Yet even that scene pales in comparison with the next part of the story (which by the way is about a crazy ex-military parachute packer who's strangling bagladies). The gang goes undercover at a female mudwrestling match -- oh 1980s how I still love you -- and one bad guy takes a lady mudwrestler hostage as he escapes. This gives us a very interesting scene, as we see a mud-covered, bikini-clad gal in broad daylight, a place you just don't expect to see that kind of thing. Naturally, TJ ends up with mud on his uniform and I'll let you figure out how. Finally, after extensive testing, officer Jim Corrigan gets a bandage around his head, and he gets to sit in a hospital bed with cops around him laughing in a freezeframe. Oh, and before I forget: somewhere in there they catch the ex-military guy with the "bloused boots." He's kind enough to completely explain his motivation to Hooker in the middle of the knife fight: "M-m-mother had to die. Don't you see? She tied me up as a kid...she had to die...BUT...she already died!! So those other women had to die!! Don't you SEE??!" Yeah pal, thanks. We get it.

The episode may now be deleted from the Tivo, but its memory will live in my heart and mind forever. What were we talking about again?

Hmm...well, maybe not the most ecstatic response on that last tune. I can only assume that the beauty and subtlety of the lyrics were somehow overshadowed by the majesty of the rocking guitar I was layin' down on that one. In the interest of making mom happy, I've looked backward this time, to an era when four mop-topped Liverpudlian lads held the world in their collective palms. 'Twas a time of peace and love, a time when this remake of the donkeyful song from our last post might have topped the charts.

This is John, Paul, George, Ringo, and me with our rendition of "Testicle Taster".

This was quite a Christmas. Thanks to the generosity of my family I now have a cool amp to practice my guitar, and with the recent purchase of a Line6 GuitarPort, I'm ready to unleash my "music" on the world. Here's the inaugural pain: "I Licked a Donkey's Testicles". Bring the kids.

Not much going at the moment. I was thinking about people singing in the car. You ever do that? I tend to think everyone has if they've had a car of their own. It's odd though, after a few seconds of singing in my car, I start looking in the rearview mirror, getting all self-conscious like somebody might have snuck into the backseat just to hear me make a fool of myself. So I check and there's nobody there --obviously. I've got some kind of screw loose, that's for sure. Even if there were some music critic lying down in the backseat of my car, why the hell should I care what he or she thinks of my singing voice?? Have some self respect honky, that's what I tell myself. Yep.

Destitute broke
in the altogether
phone off the hook
and under the bed

Roads lead backwards
out of sight
underpaid overblown
switched off above ground

Metal hands forged for an afterlife

I take my coffee with three packets of sugar and a bunch of milk. I wonder if the diabetes will get me before the coronary?

Hey, you know what? I bet if Lobster People from Space ever conquer us, they probably won't eat us with drawn butter. Whose idea was that anyway, dunking seafood in melted cow lactation? What a stupid thing to do. Yes, I do it too most of the time. What am I gonna do, waste all that tasty butter they give you? That would be like not wearing that awesome bib that comes with lobster. I suppose I could chug the butter like a shot. But then we're back to the hardened artery thing.

Yo yo homey word up G.

Tim here. As if you didn't know that. Come on, I know my 8x10 is hanging over your futon. Yeah, whatever. Check out these food review sites. I certify glory:

Steve Don't Eat It: Courtesy of my parents, a link to a guy eating the most frightening items he can find. Some of them may not, in fact, be actual food.

Bad Candy: The funniest food review site I've ever seen, and believe me I read these things like they're going out of style.

A funny salad review: Exactly what it says. This woman bravely went into a Burger King and tried one of their salads. That bravery alone deserves notoriety, but the review itself is just grand.