On this date (Thursday):
Carrie Nation smashed up her first saloon and told the drunks what she thought of them.
Wilbur and Orville Wright fell off a cliff even though they were wearing feathers.
Thomas A. (for Adele) Edison invented the movies, but closed his studio when the star of The Great Train Robbery, Bronco Billy Anderson, jumped off the screen and left the country with Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.
Susan B. Anthony said of the new coin with her image: “Looks like two bits to me”.
Thomas Jefferson exceeded his credit limit with The Louisiana Purchase; Visa was not amused.
Millard Fillmore, President of The U.S, disappeared. No one missed him.
In 1890 the Census Bureau declared the frontier was closed, which confused thousands of people on their way to Disneyland. Many cancelled their motel reservations.
In 1893 The U. S. allowed people to settle the Cherokee Strip, which further puzzled the pioneers who had bought the Government’s previous story that the Frontier—not to mention The Sands—was closed. (See paragraph 7, line 1, Schedule C above).
Today was the 80th birthday of Britain’s former Prime Minister Margaret “The Iron Lady” Thatcher. After a wee bit too much champagne, the old girl called up Argentina and threatened to declare war on them if they so much as looked at The Falkland Islands.
And, finally, an update on last week’s report on the James Brothers: On Thursday Frank and Jesse filed for a divorce. Judge Roy Bean, however, pointed out that the Brothers were never married, which made their petition null and void, not to mention stupid. (After this ruling, Judge Bean—The Law West of the Pecos-- is pretty confident that he’ll be named to the Supreme Court).
Informed sources (barflies) say Jesse is now seeking to be declared an emancipated person capable of living on his own. Sources close to the story (they have cable) indicated Frank thought this was pretty funny.
Spokesmen for both parties say they plan to remain friends, but will be dating others. The Dalton Gang was mentioned as a possibility.
Saturday, October 15, 2005
Saturday, October 08, 2005
The Return of Frank and Jesse (13)
Famous Old West Outlaws Hold News Conference
Skeptical Press Question “Frank and Jesse James”
Famed Duo Attired in Long Yellow Dusters and Three Piece Suits from Warner Bros. Outlet Store
At a hastily called press conference, reporters in St. Louis, Missouri questioned the famous James Brothers. Jesse James read from a prepared statement, managing to hit all the reporters in the front row with his spittle. James was a little hard to follow, as his remarks were more in the nature of a rant, rather than a statement.
“I am sick and tired of reading about all these so-called outlaws, who are trying to horn in on my glory. (His brother Frank glared at him.) Well, our glory. We were the greatest outlaw gang in history. The modern world is going to hell in a hand basket, excuse my French.”
The outlaw was interrupted by several reporters shouting at him (they were in training for the White House press corps). The AP reporter finally got James’s attention.
“Who do you think you’re kidding? I know for a fact that you, ‘Jesse’, are deader than last week’s celebrity. And isn’t true, ‘Frank’, you spent several years in prison after your outlaw career was over?”
Jesse managed to get a word in: “Don’t that beat all. You press guys haven’t changed a bit. To get back to the subject, I am fed up with people who claim to be the West’s greatest outlaws. And don’t get me started on Butch and Sundance—Bob Redford and Paulie Newman—what a pair of fakers! And if I hear another word about the Reno Brothers being the first train robbers, I swear I’ll have a conniption fit.”
James was so overwrought he made a quick gesture towards his inside jacket pocket, which caused an uproar as several reporters hit the floor in anticipation of gunplay.
“What a bunch of weenies”, James said. Even Frank managed a grin.
James pulled out several folded sheets of paper and waved them at the reporters.
“ Speaking of weenies, I’m going to sue those Google Guys if they don’t straighten up. Every time I Google my name all I get is garbage about some biker who married a floozy actress that followed him to the hospital after a stupid accident.”
James stop to squint at his Google search: “Sandra Bullock—that’s the girl friend of the guy using my name. He even says he’s a direct descendent of the outlaw Jesse James. Give me a break. I mean Tom Hanks may be a descendent of Abe Lincoln— though why anybody would want to be related to that Yankee upstart, who claimed to be a Southerner, is beyond me. But I’m here to tell you that I am the original, the one and only Jesse James.”
Jesse was shaking all over himself at the end of this tirade; his brother Frank tried to calm him down.
“Don’t get your drawers in a snit, Jesse! Remember what the Bible says: Do unto others, and do it first.” (The older brother was famous for quoting-- or misquoting--Shakespeare and The Bible).
The elder James led Jesse out of the banquet room. Reporters were still shouting questions at the outlaws who were as oblivious as a couple of ex-Presidents.
“Oh, sure, Frank—show off what a faker you are! You’re always so high and mighty! Why Mom liked you best is the biggest mystery of my life. And another thing, why do people always say Frank and Jesse James when everybody knows I’m the famous one? Answer me that Brother, since you’re so smart…”
The Brothers had left behind a press kit with clippings of their exploits. They were as famous as rock stars in their day (June 6, 1876).
The James Gang included at times the Younger Brothers, The Ford Brothers and their Lincolns, Stacey Keach and The Quaids. The Gang was notorious for trashing hotels, ordering room service, and riding their horses up to the top floor of their hotel.
They liked to order videos of movies that portrayed their exploits. Their critiques were on the harsh side, as they would usually shoot out the TV before the pizza arrived.
Later in the day Jesse James dialed a local TV station from his cell phone while on horseback. He said he and Frank were galloping towards Meramac Caverns, as a local farmer’s barn helpfully proclaimed that Jesse’s hideout was nearby. (The barn also had large lettering inviting them to “Chew Mail Pouch Tobacco”.)
Jesse wanted the press to know he had Googled his name; the first thing that now came up was the AP report of his morning news conference. James was crowing that he was now Ranked No. 1 in Google Search. “It’s about time,” he said.
He rang off shortly afterwards as Frank was heard in the background, “You’ve got another think coming if you actually believe I’m going to stay in a cave overnight!”
The hotel manager later said he saw the James Boys in the alley where their horses were hitched at parking meters, but they galloped off before he could bill them for the room damages.
Local reporters who researched their own newspaper’s files found that James’s death in 1882 had been front-page news. Several men over the years had claimed to be Jesse James—he was often sighted at the same gas station with Elvis.
But this James, said one of the old-time reporters, was the first one to complain about Sandra Bullock.
Skeptical Press Question “Frank and Jesse James”
Famed Duo Attired in Long Yellow Dusters and Three Piece Suits from Warner Bros. Outlet Store
At a hastily called press conference, reporters in St. Louis, Missouri questioned the famous James Brothers. Jesse James read from a prepared statement, managing to hit all the reporters in the front row with his spittle. James was a little hard to follow, as his remarks were more in the nature of a rant, rather than a statement.
“I am sick and tired of reading about all these so-called outlaws, who are trying to horn in on my glory. (His brother Frank glared at him.) Well, our glory. We were the greatest outlaw gang in history. The modern world is going to hell in a hand basket, excuse my French.”
The outlaw was interrupted by several reporters shouting at him (they were in training for the White House press corps). The AP reporter finally got James’s attention.
“Who do you think you’re kidding? I know for a fact that you, ‘Jesse’, are deader than last week’s celebrity. And isn’t true, ‘Frank’, you spent several years in prison after your outlaw career was over?”
Jesse managed to get a word in: “Don’t that beat all. You press guys haven’t changed a bit. To get back to the subject, I am fed up with people who claim to be the West’s greatest outlaws. And don’t get me started on Butch and Sundance—Bob Redford and Paulie Newman—what a pair of fakers! And if I hear another word about the Reno Brothers being the first train robbers, I swear I’ll have a conniption fit.”
James was so overwrought he made a quick gesture towards his inside jacket pocket, which caused an uproar as several reporters hit the floor in anticipation of gunplay.
“What a bunch of weenies”, James said. Even Frank managed a grin.
James pulled out several folded sheets of paper and waved them at the reporters.
“ Speaking of weenies, I’m going to sue those Google Guys if they don’t straighten up. Every time I Google my name all I get is garbage about some biker who married a floozy actress that followed him to the hospital after a stupid accident.”
James stop to squint at his Google search: “Sandra Bullock—that’s the girl friend of the guy using my name. He even says he’s a direct descendent of the outlaw Jesse James. Give me a break. I mean Tom Hanks may be a descendent of Abe Lincoln— though why anybody would want to be related to that Yankee upstart, who claimed to be a Southerner, is beyond me. But I’m here to tell you that I am the original, the one and only Jesse James.”
Jesse was shaking all over himself at the end of this tirade; his brother Frank tried to calm him down.
“Don’t get your drawers in a snit, Jesse! Remember what the Bible says: Do unto others, and do it first.” (The older brother was famous for quoting-- or misquoting--Shakespeare and The Bible).
The elder James led Jesse out of the banquet room. Reporters were still shouting questions at the outlaws who were as oblivious as a couple of ex-Presidents.
“Oh, sure, Frank—show off what a faker you are! You’re always so high and mighty! Why Mom liked you best is the biggest mystery of my life. And another thing, why do people always say Frank and Jesse James when everybody knows I’m the famous one? Answer me that Brother, since you’re so smart…”
The Brothers had left behind a press kit with clippings of their exploits. They were as famous as rock stars in their day (June 6, 1876).
The James Gang included at times the Younger Brothers, The Ford Brothers and their Lincolns, Stacey Keach and The Quaids. The Gang was notorious for trashing hotels, ordering room service, and riding their horses up to the top floor of their hotel.
They liked to order videos of movies that portrayed their exploits. Their critiques were on the harsh side, as they would usually shoot out the TV before the pizza arrived.
Later in the day Jesse James dialed a local TV station from his cell phone while on horseback. He said he and Frank were galloping towards Meramac Caverns, as a local farmer’s barn helpfully proclaimed that Jesse’s hideout was nearby. (The barn also had large lettering inviting them to “Chew Mail Pouch Tobacco”.)
Jesse wanted the press to know he had Googled his name; the first thing that now came up was the AP report of his morning news conference. James was crowing that he was now Ranked No. 1 in Google Search. “It’s about time,” he said.
He rang off shortly afterwards as Frank was heard in the background, “You’ve got another think coming if you actually believe I’m going to stay in a cave overnight!”
The hotel manager later said he saw the James Boys in the alley where their horses were hitched at parking meters, but they galloped off before he could bill them for the room damages.
Local reporters who researched their own newspaper’s files found that James’s death in 1882 had been front-page news. Several men over the years had claimed to be Jesse James—he was often sighted at the same gas station with Elvis.
But this James, said one of the old-time reporters, was the first one to complain about Sandra Bullock.
Saturday, October 01, 2005
The U. S. Gets Born (12)
On September 17, 1787 The Founding Fathers adopted the Constitution, an Orphan born in Philadelphia. James Madison and Alexander Hamilton had a stern disagreement over who would be Daddy.
G. Morris (first name always written as G. as nobody then or now could spell it) said he was the Father, as he had actually written the words with his pen, a $0.98 cent Bic, which doubled as a lighter.
Wise old Ben Franklin was in charge of settling disputes. He made a speech about the rising or setting sun picture that was on George Washington’s chair (also his screen saver).
Ben said the Orphan Constitution would survive. (Or something like that: the original video has been lost.) Just to be on the safe side Children and Family Services were called (Ben had just invented the cell phone).
Although the Orphan was now adopted, he had to be approved by the Original Thirteen Colonies who were now states under The Articles of Confederation, Part 17, line 46, Row 6B, except for Massachusetts, which thought it was a commonwealth.
Massachusetts was so confused that it passed The Somewhat Gay Marriage Law, which provided for couples that were not necessarily gay, but were at least moderately cheerful, to be eligible for call waiting and high speed Internet access.
Things became so muddled that James Madison, Alexander Hamilton, and John Jay (The McGuire Sisters of Journalism) wrote a series of pamphlets to explain the new Constitution, which had citizens shaking their heads and exclaiming: “What the heck are these guys trying to say?”
Sample sentence: “The executive branch will be co-equal with the legislative branch which will be overruled by the Supreme Court unless they are not wearing their robes in which case they will declare themselves obscene”.
The Founders went back to their laptops and wrote still more of the Famous Federalist Papers though the People begged for mercy.
Madison finally made an overseas call for help to Thomas Jefferson, who along with John Adams (the original Adams, not one of his 37 descendents also named John) conveniently managed to be in Paris, France during the controversy. Jefferson said: (this is a direct quote from the original phone log):
“Madison, who gave you my number? Why do you think I crossed the Atlantic if not to get away from your pesky questions? How are you ever going to succeed me as President if you can’t handle a crisis on your own?”
Sensing that his mentor was having a bad day, Madison said Jefferson was cutting out on him.
Jefferson gave phone to John Adams who yelled (to be sure they could hear him in America):
“What’s this nonsense about Massachusetts? What are “gay couples”? Aren’t all happily married couples “gay”? I’ve only been gone two years, and already the Country along with our Mother Tongue is going to hell in a hand basket.”
Jefferson took the phone back to tell Madison to add Bill of Rights to the new Constitution.
Madison said: “What bill? The overseas phone call?” Jefferson gave up, and told Madison to expect a fax with the details.
So the Orphan Constitution had a rough time of it for about two years, which was compounded by much bickering over expense accounts that seemed to indicate heavy drinking by the people’s representatives.
This dust up came about as one busybody delegate had snitched on his brethren. Geo. Washington termed him an old blue nose and gave him a stout cursing; he heartily wished the little you-know-what was in the army so he could have had him flogged.
But after two years of wrangling the Constitution was passed and the new country was poised to live happily ever. There was, however, a little hitch when Geo. Washington was to be sworn as the first President. He arrived at the District of Columbia, but was ten years early as the White House had not yet been built.
“Accursed Yahoo Search!” thundered the General.
He then took an Amtrak special to New York only to be told that the new government had makeshift quarters at the Philadelphia Holiday Inn. “By God! This is worse than a floating crap game!” (This is not exactly what he said, but this is a family blog.)
Washington was so put out by this mix-up that he had his advance man strung up by his heels and made him answer questions from The Press. Washington was a fun guy.
And so the Constitution was no longer an orphan. The original document can be read online with nice exhibits of, for example, G. Morris’s Bic Pen, which doubled as a lighter.
Remember: you are reading this on the Internet-- it has to be true. I’ve lost my original link, but if you Google “G. Morris Bic Pen”, I think you might be surprised.
By the way, I’ll be offline the rest of the weekend.
G. Morris (first name always written as G. as nobody then or now could spell it) said he was the Father, as he had actually written the words with his pen, a $0.98 cent Bic, which doubled as a lighter.
Wise old Ben Franklin was in charge of settling disputes. He made a speech about the rising or setting sun picture that was on George Washington’s chair (also his screen saver).
Ben said the Orphan Constitution would survive. (Or something like that: the original video has been lost.) Just to be on the safe side Children and Family Services were called (Ben had just invented the cell phone).
Although the Orphan was now adopted, he had to be approved by the Original Thirteen Colonies who were now states under The Articles of Confederation, Part 17, line 46, Row 6B, except for Massachusetts, which thought it was a commonwealth.
Massachusetts was so confused that it passed The Somewhat Gay Marriage Law, which provided for couples that were not necessarily gay, but were at least moderately cheerful, to be eligible for call waiting and high speed Internet access.
Things became so muddled that James Madison, Alexander Hamilton, and John Jay (The McGuire Sisters of Journalism) wrote a series of pamphlets to explain the new Constitution, which had citizens shaking their heads and exclaiming: “What the heck are these guys trying to say?”
Sample sentence: “The executive branch will be co-equal with the legislative branch which will be overruled by the Supreme Court unless they are not wearing their robes in which case they will declare themselves obscene”.
The Founders went back to their laptops and wrote still more of the Famous Federalist Papers though the People begged for mercy.
Madison finally made an overseas call for help to Thomas Jefferson, who along with John Adams (the original Adams, not one of his 37 descendents also named John) conveniently managed to be in Paris, France during the controversy. Jefferson said: (this is a direct quote from the original phone log):
“Madison, who gave you my number? Why do you think I crossed the Atlantic if not to get away from your pesky questions? How are you ever going to succeed me as President if you can’t handle a crisis on your own?”
Sensing that his mentor was having a bad day, Madison said Jefferson was cutting out on him.
Jefferson gave phone to John Adams who yelled (to be sure they could hear him in America):
“What’s this nonsense about Massachusetts? What are “gay couples”? Aren’t all happily married couples “gay”? I’ve only been gone two years, and already the Country along with our Mother Tongue is going to hell in a hand basket.”
Jefferson took the phone back to tell Madison to add Bill of Rights to the new Constitution.
Madison said: “What bill? The overseas phone call?” Jefferson gave up, and told Madison to expect a fax with the details.
So the Orphan Constitution had a rough time of it for about two years, which was compounded by much bickering over expense accounts that seemed to indicate heavy drinking by the people’s representatives.
This dust up came about as one busybody delegate had snitched on his brethren. Geo. Washington termed him an old blue nose and gave him a stout cursing; he heartily wished the little you-know-what was in the army so he could have had him flogged.
But after two years of wrangling the Constitution was passed and the new country was poised to live happily ever. There was, however, a little hitch when Geo. Washington was to be sworn as the first President. He arrived at the District of Columbia, but was ten years early as the White House had not yet been built.
“Accursed Yahoo Search!” thundered the General.
He then took an Amtrak special to New York only to be told that the new government had makeshift quarters at the Philadelphia Holiday Inn. “By God! This is worse than a floating crap game!” (This is not exactly what he said, but this is a family blog.)
Washington was so put out by this mix-up that he had his advance man strung up by his heels and made him answer questions from The Press. Washington was a fun guy.
And so the Constitution was no longer an orphan. The original document can be read online with nice exhibits of, for example, G. Morris’s Bic Pen, which doubled as a lighter.
Remember: you are reading this on the Internet-- it has to be true. I’ve lost my original link, but if you Google “G. Morris Bic Pen”, I think you might be surprised.
By the way, I’ll be offline the rest of the weekend.
Saturday, September 24, 2005
Newspaper Boy (11)
One afternoon when I came home from school Mom greeted me, “Aren’t you the boy that always wanted a paper route?”
When had I ever said I wanted a paper route? I really didn’t have time. I had to practice my card tricks--I was going to be a magician.
But I didn’t want to disappoint Mom. Sonny, the kid who was giving up the route, would show me the ropes. At fourteen, he was two years older; Mom said he had other interests. What those were I didn’t know. Whoever invented the word “clueless” must have had me in mind.
Showing me the ropes only lasted two days; Sonny said if I could figure out what customers I had missed I would have the route in hand. Of course I didn’t have a clue. Sonny assured me I would be able to handle it. He jumped on his bike and flew off to pursue his “other interests”.
I did have the route pretty well memorized, but I wasn’t good at folding papers. I just threw them in my bicycle basket and tried to keep them from blowing away. Between chasing runaway papers and crashing my bike into people’s porches—I wasn’t made to ride a bike and throw a newspaper at the same time-- the route was getting longer and longer.
The very next afternoon it got dark early thanks to a thunderstorm; I was running even later. I was about to make my last few deliveries, when a car pulled up blinding me with its lights. It was Dad. “What in the crap are you doing out here at this time of night?” He didn’t wait for an answer—I was on my way home as fast as I could pedal.
When I got home, I heard Mom saying, “I don’t want that boy out at night riding his bike”. I heard Dad say, “He can give that paper route back to Sonny what’s-his- name”.
So it was decided my newspaper days were over. I didn’t know whether to be elated or sad. The paper route money would have come in handy for magic supplies, but there were a lot of things around the house that could be used as props.
The next evening I used some of those “props” as the folks had gone to The Store. I launched my career in magic by filling the dining room table with dishes. The idea was to pull the tablecloth (quickly) out from under the dishes. I practiced until I heard Dad and Mom pull in. It was show time; I gave the folks a demonstration.
The next morning we were still finding broken crockery.
“Maybe we should have let him kept his paper route,” Dad said.
“I liked it better when he played cowboys,” Mom said.
Cowboys! Great idea, Mom! I was twelve, but I was working my way back to six.
When had I ever said I wanted a paper route? I really didn’t have time. I had to practice my card tricks--I was going to be a magician.
But I didn’t want to disappoint Mom. Sonny, the kid who was giving up the route, would show me the ropes. At fourteen, he was two years older; Mom said he had other interests. What those were I didn’t know. Whoever invented the word “clueless” must have had me in mind.
Showing me the ropes only lasted two days; Sonny said if I could figure out what customers I had missed I would have the route in hand. Of course I didn’t have a clue. Sonny assured me I would be able to handle it. He jumped on his bike and flew off to pursue his “other interests”.
I did have the route pretty well memorized, but I wasn’t good at folding papers. I just threw them in my bicycle basket and tried to keep them from blowing away. Between chasing runaway papers and crashing my bike into people’s porches—I wasn’t made to ride a bike and throw a newspaper at the same time-- the route was getting longer and longer.
The very next afternoon it got dark early thanks to a thunderstorm; I was running even later. I was about to make my last few deliveries, when a car pulled up blinding me with its lights. It was Dad. “What in the crap are you doing out here at this time of night?” He didn’t wait for an answer—I was on my way home as fast as I could pedal.
When I got home, I heard Mom saying, “I don’t want that boy out at night riding his bike”. I heard Dad say, “He can give that paper route back to Sonny what’s-his- name”.
So it was decided my newspaper days were over. I didn’t know whether to be elated or sad. The paper route money would have come in handy for magic supplies, but there were a lot of things around the house that could be used as props.
The next evening I used some of those “props” as the folks had gone to The Store. I launched my career in magic by filling the dining room table with dishes. The idea was to pull the tablecloth (quickly) out from under the dishes. I practiced until I heard Dad and Mom pull in. It was show time; I gave the folks a demonstration.
The next morning we were still finding broken crockery.
“Maybe we should have let him kept his paper route,” Dad said.
“I liked it better when he played cowboys,” Mom said.
Cowboys! Great idea, Mom! I was twelve, but I was working my way back to six.
Saturday, September 17, 2005
1846, or Where Were You CNN? (10)
In 1846 apparently nothing happened. It was the most important year in our history, but CNN was asleep; C-Span took a powder. Luckily people who claimed to have been alive at the time took notes.
For example, a very famous American was born that year. He was a Pony Express rider at fourteen, and later went into show business with James Butler “Wild Bill” Hickox and Martha Jane “Calamity Jane” Cannary.
He lived a very long life—so long, that he re-invented himself in the 1950’s by changing his name to “Buffalo Bob” Smith and taking Howdy Doody as his new partner. (He had no choice; he had outlived “Will Bill” and “Calamity Jane”.)
Who was this famous American? . Why, none other than William F. (for Freddie). “Buffalo Bill” Cody. He was sometimes mistaken for Wild Bill Hickox, or even General George Armstrong “Yellow Hair” Custer, as they each had long blond hair that came down to their belt buckles.
Their hair was so long they were known as The Three Hippies; they of course burned their draft cards to protest the Viet Nam War. But they were all great Americans. They eventually came home from Canada after President Jimmy Carter pardoned them. They then took their act on the road, eventually replacing The Three Tenors.
But to return to 1846, not only was Buffalo Bill born, we also managed to get ourselves in a war with Mexico. Bill enlisted at age 2; the only thing that prevented Teddy Roosevelt from joining up was he wasn’t born until 1859.
The war wasn’t an accident; The President—quick, who was the President in 1846—give up? James Knox Polk (coming back to you now?) wisely went to war, as it was necessary to give our budding generals from West Point, Robert E. Lee and U. S. Grant, a chance to meet and greet before they reported to the set of “Gone With the Wind”.
A few Mexicans were killed, but it was a small price to pay for some necessary war games. A few bleeding hearts, like Abe Lincoln, protested the war. Lincoln’s heart, however, stopped bleeding in 1861 when he refused to let the South leave the Union.
The Mexican War produced several heroes who became public nuisances, as they ran for office; one eventually became President. So the war was well worth fighting on that score alone. In fact, the hero who became POTUS (President of the you- know -what) made news as recently as 1991.
I’m sure you remember the story. Zachary Taylor held office for only a few months before he keeled over under what some deemed suspicious circumstances. It was thought that he had been poisoned; somebody actually wrote a whole book about this theory. The author made such a fuss that Taylor was dug up and examined with a very fine magnifying glass. Verdict: he died of natural causes. The author of the book has since disappeared along with the advance he got from his publisher.
“Old Rough and Ready” Taylor’s brief tenure as POTUS pales in comparison to his contribution in 1846, when he was largely responsible for the successful Mexican War Games, a dry run for the Civil War, though Dwight David “Ike” Eisenhower later tried to take credit for the exercises.
And why was this the most important year in our history? It made it possible for the Civil War to be held, which has remained a great industry and a nice hobby for amateur soldiers. Sort of makes you proud to be an American, doesn’t it?
For example, a very famous American was born that year. He was a Pony Express rider at fourteen, and later went into show business with James Butler “Wild Bill” Hickox and Martha Jane “Calamity Jane” Cannary.
He lived a very long life—so long, that he re-invented himself in the 1950’s by changing his name to “Buffalo Bob” Smith and taking Howdy Doody as his new partner. (He had no choice; he had outlived “Will Bill” and “Calamity Jane”.)
Who was this famous American? . Why, none other than William F. (for Freddie). “Buffalo Bill” Cody. He was sometimes mistaken for Wild Bill Hickox, or even General George Armstrong “Yellow Hair” Custer, as they each had long blond hair that came down to their belt buckles.
Their hair was so long they were known as The Three Hippies; they of course burned their draft cards to protest the Viet Nam War. But they were all great Americans. They eventually came home from Canada after President Jimmy Carter pardoned them. They then took their act on the road, eventually replacing The Three Tenors.
But to return to 1846, not only was Buffalo Bill born, we also managed to get ourselves in a war with Mexico. Bill enlisted at age 2; the only thing that prevented Teddy Roosevelt from joining up was he wasn’t born until 1859.
The war wasn’t an accident; The President—quick, who was the President in 1846—give up? James Knox Polk (coming back to you now?) wisely went to war, as it was necessary to give our budding generals from West Point, Robert E. Lee and U. S. Grant, a chance to meet and greet before they reported to the set of “Gone With the Wind”.
A few Mexicans were killed, but it was a small price to pay for some necessary war games. A few bleeding hearts, like Abe Lincoln, protested the war. Lincoln’s heart, however, stopped bleeding in 1861 when he refused to let the South leave the Union.
The Mexican War produced several heroes who became public nuisances, as they ran for office; one eventually became President. So the war was well worth fighting on that score alone. In fact, the hero who became POTUS (President of the you- know -what) made news as recently as 1991.
I’m sure you remember the story. Zachary Taylor held office for only a few months before he keeled over under what some deemed suspicious circumstances. It was thought that he had been poisoned; somebody actually wrote a whole book about this theory. The author made such a fuss that Taylor was dug up and examined with a very fine magnifying glass. Verdict: he died of natural causes. The author of the book has since disappeared along with the advance he got from his publisher.
“Old Rough and Ready” Taylor’s brief tenure as POTUS pales in comparison to his contribution in 1846, when he was largely responsible for the successful Mexican War Games, a dry run for the Civil War, though Dwight David “Ike” Eisenhower later tried to take credit for the exercises.
And why was this the most important year in our history? It made it possible for the Civil War to be held, which has remained a great industry and a nice hobby for amateur soldiers. Sort of makes you proud to be an American, doesn’t it?
Saturday, September 10, 2005
Drive Time (9)
I drove to work this morning with the nagging feeling that I had missed a news bulletin. Something was not quite right. Then it hit me: it was back- to- school time. I made up a headline for the story I had obviously missed:
Driving Age Lowered to Twelve
This accounted for those little children who wore their caps backwards and could barely see over their steering wheels. For reasons best known to themselves, they preferred to drive down the middle of the road.
While I was trying to dodge these little people, who only yesterday were on the playground plotting to crash driver’s ed., I made a point of glaring at them. One of the Munchkins rewarded me with a puzzled look.
I imagined his thoughts: “What? Somebody else is driving on this street that belongs to us high school students only? What’s that old Geezer doing driving anyway?”
I had barely recovered from my close encounters with drivers supposedly 16, when three people in a row, average age 52.7 years, or old enough to know better, failed to use their turning signals.
These people were the parents and grandparents of the aforementioned, headline-grabbing twelve-year old drivers. We live in a small town, it’s true, but a little warning that somebody might be taking a left to The Store would be nice. I made up another headline:
One Hundred Million Vehicles Recalled as Turning Signals Defective
Half of all American drivers don’t use turning signals. They think (apparently) that blinkers are optional equipment and that turning signal use is for other people; they themselves can’t be bothered as they are in a lather to get to the other side of town. (Some people would be in a hurry to get to Hell.)
The only thing worse than idiot drivers are idiot drivers talking on cell phones. What I really love--to get to my pet peeve--are people who call a business and the first thing out of their mouths is, “Let me talk to Bob”. I created a headline for this group:
People Who Can’t Identify Themselves Barred from Using Telephones
Millions of Americans call businesses and ask for Jack or Susan. Were they brought up in a barn? I want to say: “NO, you may not talk with Jack until you say who you are. Did you notice when I answered the phone I said: This is Danny; may I help you? Didn’t that give you a clue that you are supposed to identify yourself? Apparently not, you worthless scum.”
Well, I certainly feel better.
Driving Age Lowered to Twelve
This accounted for those little children who wore their caps backwards and could barely see over their steering wheels. For reasons best known to themselves, they preferred to drive down the middle of the road.
While I was trying to dodge these little people, who only yesterday were on the playground plotting to crash driver’s ed., I made a point of glaring at them. One of the Munchkins rewarded me with a puzzled look.
I imagined his thoughts: “What? Somebody else is driving on this street that belongs to us high school students only? What’s that old Geezer doing driving anyway?”
I had barely recovered from my close encounters with drivers supposedly 16, when three people in a row, average age 52.7 years, or old enough to know better, failed to use their turning signals.
These people were the parents and grandparents of the aforementioned, headline-grabbing twelve-year old drivers. We live in a small town, it’s true, but a little warning that somebody might be taking a left to The Store would be nice. I made up another headline:
One Hundred Million Vehicles Recalled as Turning Signals Defective
Half of all American drivers don’t use turning signals. They think (apparently) that blinkers are optional equipment and that turning signal use is for other people; they themselves can’t be bothered as they are in a lather to get to the other side of town. (Some people would be in a hurry to get to Hell.)
The only thing worse than idiot drivers are idiot drivers talking on cell phones. What I really love--to get to my pet peeve--are people who call a business and the first thing out of their mouths is, “Let me talk to Bob”. I created a headline for this group:
People Who Can’t Identify Themselves Barred from Using Telephones
Millions of Americans call businesses and ask for Jack or Susan. Were they brought up in a barn? I want to say: “NO, you may not talk with Jack until you say who you are. Did you notice when I answered the phone I said: This is Danny; may I help you? Didn’t that give you a clue that you are supposed to identify yourself? Apparently not, you worthless scum.”
Well, I certainly feel better.
Thursday, September 01, 2005
Vacation (8)
Vacation
I have actually gone on vacation only twice in the last sixty years. In 1978 my nephew Dana and I went to Beverly Hills, California; we were just a couple of single guys raising heck of course.
I was then a boy of thirty-three; Dana was twenty-seven. Going to Hollywood was a natural choice as we were show biz people in the making. Later that year we auditioned for our first community theatre play. It later opened nearly on Broadway (a street in Mattoon, Illinois.)
I retired from the stage over twenty years ago, but Dana has been active all these years. This is only right, as he is the talent in the family.
We didn’t-- at first-- seem to have a talent for traveling. We flew from St. Louis directly to Los Angeles without a hitch. We were not, however, to see much of anything but the hotel the first couple of days. We were supposed to have been on a bus tour, but we couldn’t locate the bus.
Our first disappointment came at the airport when a limousine did not meet us. We inquired about this and were told that the shuttle bus was the limousine, so stop whining already.
After checking in at our hotel, we asked where the tour bus would be. We got in line early the next morning at the designated area-- if you could call it getting in line, as we were the only two people around, a clue perhaps that we were misinformed. We saw busses, but they flew by as though we had just got off the boat.
Later back in our hotel room it occurred to us to call the Bell Captain. He answered the phone himself and said that the bus took off from Robinson’s Department Store. (Famous retail establishment, which we later discovered, sold dry goods at several times retail.)
The next morning we showed up at Robinson’s; again we were the only people in line. After several long minutes we saw our bus, or at least a bus whizzing by. We waved at the driver to let him know he had forgotten something, or someone. But once again we were stranded.
We checked with the Bell Captain who this time gave us more specific instructions (he finally realized who he was dealing with): the bus stopped on the opposite side of the building. The next morning we were in the right area, and got off on our Hollywood tour, a bit delayed, but still worthwhile.
This episode—though it had a happy ending—did me in for travel for years afterwards. Dana, however, has been on the road or in the air or at sea practically ever since. Just last weekend a bulletin came in e-mail form: he was off with friends to see a play in Chicago. He was traveling by train I understand.
I have actually gone on vacation only twice in the last sixty years. In 1978 my nephew Dana and I went to Beverly Hills, California; we were just a couple of single guys raising heck of course.
I was then a boy of thirty-three; Dana was twenty-seven. Going to Hollywood was a natural choice as we were show biz people in the making. Later that year we auditioned for our first community theatre play. It later opened nearly on Broadway (a street in Mattoon, Illinois.)
I retired from the stage over twenty years ago, but Dana has been active all these years. This is only right, as he is the talent in the family.
We didn’t-- at first-- seem to have a talent for traveling. We flew from St. Louis directly to Los Angeles without a hitch. We were not, however, to see much of anything but the hotel the first couple of days. We were supposed to have been on a bus tour, but we couldn’t locate the bus.
Our first disappointment came at the airport when a limousine did not meet us. We inquired about this and were told that the shuttle bus was the limousine, so stop whining already.
After checking in at our hotel, we asked where the tour bus would be. We got in line early the next morning at the designated area-- if you could call it getting in line, as we were the only two people around, a clue perhaps that we were misinformed. We saw busses, but they flew by as though we had just got off the boat.
Later back in our hotel room it occurred to us to call the Bell Captain. He answered the phone himself and said that the bus took off from Robinson’s Department Store. (Famous retail establishment, which we later discovered, sold dry goods at several times retail.)
The next morning we showed up at Robinson’s; again we were the only people in line. After several long minutes we saw our bus, or at least a bus whizzing by. We waved at the driver to let him know he had forgotten something, or someone. But once again we were stranded.
We checked with the Bell Captain who this time gave us more specific instructions (he finally realized who he was dealing with): the bus stopped on the opposite side of the building. The next morning we were in the right area, and got off on our Hollywood tour, a bit delayed, but still worthwhile.
This episode—though it had a happy ending—did me in for travel for years afterwards. Dana, however, has been on the road or in the air or at sea practically ever since. Just last weekend a bulletin came in e-mail form: he was off with friends to see a play in Chicago. He was traveling by train I understand.
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