I am a naturally curious person. I want to know how things work and why they happen the way they do. Some things puzzle me, and I have yet to get an acceptable answer. Here are a few things I’d really like to get answers for.
When did strip joints become Gentlemen’s Clubs? For the record, I’ve never been to either, and I don’t have any desire to. But the question remains. Did it happen when they left downtown for the suburbs? Here in Pittsburgh, there used to be some famous (or infamous) strip joints on Liberty Avenue. There was one place that supposedly employed a stripper who could smoke a cigarette with her vagina. Obviously, that’s a strip joint, no gentlemen involved. Some years ago, the city tried to shut the strip joints and porn theaters down, and they succeeded. They are all gone now. That’s a good thing, but there was always something amusing about going to the theater all dressed up and looking across the street and seeing a sign on a storefront promoting “Doc Johnson’s Marital Aids.”
Most of the downtown strip joints are gone now, but there’s a place uptown called Blush, which bills itself as Pittsburgh’s only ‘totally bare’ gentlemen’s club. To repeat, show me the gentleman. There’s a place not far from where I work that claims to be a gentlemen’s club. I’ve never seen anyone going into or out of the place, but it doesn’t look too upscale to me. I suppose that’s the question. Why do they call them gentlemen’s clubs when the guys who go to them are usually anything but? If anybody has any thoughts, let me know.
Question number two. When did models become supermodels? Did they all get a promotion I didn’t hear about? There’s a woman named Janice Dickinson who claims to have been the first supermodel. I’d never heard of her until she got her own reality show.
And I can’t tell you how relieved I was when Niki Taylor reached age 20. I didn’t have to see her referred to as “teen supermodel Niki Taylor” any longer. Besides, when every model is a supermodel, none of them is. Who decides? Does appearing in the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit issue make you a supermodel, or do you have to appear on the cover of Vogue or Elle? I don’t know. It bugs me. Every time I see a photo spread of women’s clothes, I wonder if it’s peopled with models or supermodels. I guess it depends on how expensive the clothes are.
Try this one on for size. Here in Pennsylvania, cars are required to display their registration tags, or license plates, as we call them here in PA, on their rear bumpers. By contrast, Ohio-registered vehicles have to display tags on their front and rear bumpers. Consequently, there’s a market for “front plates” for Pennsylvania cars. You see them for colleges and universities, car dealers put them on cars they sell, and here in the western end of the state, lots of them for the Pirates, Penguins, and especially the Steelers. Some of them bear the team logo and the words "#1 Fan." I’ve seen many of these for the Steelers and Penguins. Maybe I’m taking this excessively literally, but can’t a team have only one #1 fan?
Just askin’.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Do Not Go Gentle
I firmly believe life is not a zero-sum game. It seems, however, I am in the minority. Case in point, the dedication of the U.S. Post Office in Freedom Pennsylvania to John Scott Challis, Jr. John was a brave young man who died of cancer about two years ago. He was eighteen years old. As his cancer advanced, he became in inspiration to many people because of the way he lived, not the way he died. He got to meet, and spend time with major league baseball players, watched a hockey game from owner Mario Lemieux’s box at the Mellon Arena, and made a lasting impression on Joe Maddon, manager of the Tampa Bay Rays. Maddon still has an autographed jersey from young Mr. Challis in his office in the Rays’ locker room.
An article about the Post Office dedication appeared in the June 7, 2010 edition of the Beaver County Times, including the paper’s on-line edition. Like most papers, the Times allows readers to post comments to articles in the on-line edition. In this case, I wish they had made an exception. The ugliness in some of the comments was overwhelming, and horrifying. Many of them were to the effect that people, even young people, die of cancer all the time, and what was so special about this kid? Do these people not realize that the honor bestowed upon John Challis does not diminish the lives or memories of their own loved ones who died too soon? I am the brother of a man who died way too soon. He was only 20. At 29 years remove, it still hurts, so I know whereof I speak.
I’ll tell you what was so special about this kid. He didn’t have an ounce of give-up in him. Stories of his courage abound, from the RBI single he hit in a varsity baseball game a few months before he succumbed to cancer, to his starting a foundation to help gravely ill kids realize some of their sports-related dreams. He realized he wasn’t the only one who would like to watch a hockey game from Mario Lemieux’s box. “Courage + Believe = Life” That’s the name of his foundation, and in effect, his epitaph. It’s not grammatical, and to a purist like me, an affront to the English language. But for this young man, I’ll make an exception.
But that’s not what’s so special about this kid. What’s so special about this kid is that as he was dying, his father whispered to him that it was okay, and he could let go.
“No.”
He raged against the dying of the light. That’s what’s so special about this kid.
An article about the Post Office dedication appeared in the June 7, 2010 edition of the Beaver County Times, including the paper’s on-line edition. Like most papers, the Times allows readers to post comments to articles in the on-line edition. In this case, I wish they had made an exception. The ugliness in some of the comments was overwhelming, and horrifying. Many of them were to the effect that people, even young people, die of cancer all the time, and what was so special about this kid? Do these people not realize that the honor bestowed upon John Challis does not diminish the lives or memories of their own loved ones who died too soon? I am the brother of a man who died way too soon. He was only 20. At 29 years remove, it still hurts, so I know whereof I speak.
I’ll tell you what was so special about this kid. He didn’t have an ounce of give-up in him. Stories of his courage abound, from the RBI single he hit in a varsity baseball game a few months before he succumbed to cancer, to his starting a foundation to help gravely ill kids realize some of their sports-related dreams. He realized he wasn’t the only one who would like to watch a hockey game from Mario Lemieux’s box. “Courage + Believe = Life” That’s the name of his foundation, and in effect, his epitaph. It’s not grammatical, and to a purist like me, an affront to the English language. But for this young man, I’ll make an exception.
But that’s not what’s so special about this kid. What’s so special about this kid is that as he was dying, his father whispered to him that it was okay, and he could let go.
“No.”
He raged against the dying of the light. That’s what’s so special about this kid.
Strange Sights on Greentree Hill
For nearly the last five years, I’ve been driving to work on the western leg of Penn-Lincoln Parkway, commonly known to Pittsburghers as the Parkway West. Most everyone who drives the Parkway hates it. It’s only two lanes wide in most places, and all it takes is one person who decides the posted speed limit really is the speed limit to screw things up for everyone else. Everyone else being those of us who consider speed limits more of a guideline. The most annoying aspect of driving the Parkway West is the bottleneck where the Parkway, Route 51, and Banksville Road come together, just before the entrance to the Fort Pitt Tunnel. Traffic backs up, usually up to, and beyond the top of the hill that leads down to the tunnel. Everyone around here calls it Greentree Hill for the town that straddles the crest of the hill, and the road that runs perpendicular to the Parkway. If you reach the top of Greentree Hill at 7:10 a.m., you can expect to spend about 20 minutes inching along until you reach the tunnel, after which everything opens up again.
As I related to my nephew, who’s driven in with me on several occasions, it’s taught me patience. He thought we should make it part of the Jedi training. Good idea. It’s also given me the opportunity to observe some bizarre behavior, usually in the area of grooming.
My favorite was the woman in the car front of me one day who was applying hair spray from an aerosol can. Inside her car. I shudder to think of what that did to the car’s interior, not to mention her lungs. Seeing people apply make-up in bumper to bumper traffic is common. Their vehicles aren’t moving, so in theory, there’s no harm in it. It’s often eye make-up though. Some people go so far as to apply mascara. God help them if they get rear-ended when doing that. A few weeks ago, I saw the woman in the car behind mine plucking her eyebrows. Another daring type.
Lest you think I’m being sexist, it’s not only women who do strange things in their cars. I’ve seen plenty of men with a finger up their noses. I also saw one guy shaving with an electric razor. Smoking is not remarkable, nor is the sight of one or more people in a car sleeping while someone else drives. Tying a necktie is something I’ve observed even while vehicles are in motion. I’ve seen pickup trucks covered with camouflage vinyl applique, and of course, the testicles suspended from the trailer hitch. They often also display a confederate flag, just to make sure there are no misunderstandings. You’re an ignorant redneck. I get it.
It wasn’t on my morning commute, but I once saw a guy on a sport bike in the opposite lane driving with one hand and texting with the other. My personal vice is playing air guitar on my steering wheel. I’ve been known to “dance” in the driver’s seat, but usually when I don’t think anyone is looking. I’ve been busted a few times, but it’s worth it. You’ve got to do something to deal with the boredom. The traffic jams have taught me patience. I’ve learned not to let delays, crashes and other issues ruin my days before they start. It’s part of the Jedi training. Most mornings, the Force is with me, but every once in a while it’s demolition derby. Not long ago, I was terribly delayed getting into the Fort Pitt Tunnel. When I finally got through, I saw why. There was a crashed and disabled car perhaps 25 yards past the tunnel exit. To make matters worse (for me, I’m sure it wasn’t fun for the people in the crashes) there was another crash near the exit of the Parkway East I use. Demolition derby day. But I didn’t let it ruin my day. I’ve learned patience. Now if I can only figure out how to build a light saber.
As I related to my nephew, who’s driven in with me on several occasions, it’s taught me patience. He thought we should make it part of the Jedi training. Good idea. It’s also given me the opportunity to observe some bizarre behavior, usually in the area of grooming.
My favorite was the woman in the car front of me one day who was applying hair spray from an aerosol can. Inside her car. I shudder to think of what that did to the car’s interior, not to mention her lungs. Seeing people apply make-up in bumper to bumper traffic is common. Their vehicles aren’t moving, so in theory, there’s no harm in it. It’s often eye make-up though. Some people go so far as to apply mascara. God help them if they get rear-ended when doing that. A few weeks ago, I saw the woman in the car behind mine plucking her eyebrows. Another daring type.
Lest you think I’m being sexist, it’s not only women who do strange things in their cars. I’ve seen plenty of men with a finger up their noses. I also saw one guy shaving with an electric razor. Smoking is not remarkable, nor is the sight of one or more people in a car sleeping while someone else drives. Tying a necktie is something I’ve observed even while vehicles are in motion. I’ve seen pickup trucks covered with camouflage vinyl applique, and of course, the testicles suspended from the trailer hitch. They often also display a confederate flag, just to make sure there are no misunderstandings. You’re an ignorant redneck. I get it.
It wasn’t on my morning commute, but I once saw a guy on a sport bike in the opposite lane driving with one hand and texting with the other. My personal vice is playing air guitar on my steering wheel. I’ve been known to “dance” in the driver’s seat, but usually when I don’t think anyone is looking. I’ve been busted a few times, but it’s worth it. You’ve got to do something to deal with the boredom. The traffic jams have taught me patience. I’ve learned not to let delays, crashes and other issues ruin my days before they start. It’s part of the Jedi training. Most mornings, the Force is with me, but every once in a while it’s demolition derby. Not long ago, I was terribly delayed getting into the Fort Pitt Tunnel. When I finally got through, I saw why. There was a crashed and disabled car perhaps 25 yards past the tunnel exit. To make matters worse (for me, I’m sure it wasn’t fun for the people in the crashes) there was another crash near the exit of the Parkway East I use. Demolition derby day. But I didn’t let it ruin my day. I’ve learned patience. Now if I can only figure out how to build a light saber.
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