Monday Update

A few of my thoughts on the late Hunter S. Thompson.

A man who turns a .45 on himself is serious about his suicide.

It's not a cry for attention or for help. It's not acting out the utter hopelessness we all felt when we realized that our family and neighbors had reelected W for another tour. There are pills and exacto knives for that. A .45 cal in the kitchen is a statement. Basically, "I'm all through folks, see you on the flipside." I think Hunter wanted it done on his terms and on his timeline. The man was nothing if not decisive.

Sixty-seven isn't old age by any stretch, but I think it's asking a lot of any mere body to withstand the cumulative onslaught of chemical abuse his got. CNN was reporting tonight that he had to use a wheelchair at times, and his poor body was failing him. Local papers interviewed close friends who hadn't seen him much lately, but said that he had been in good spirits. Good spirits like someone who had reached a difficult decision and had made some peace with it.

All the attempts I've read trying to summarize, explain, or put into context what Hunter was or did fall pretty flat. I think staff writers are getting a bonus for using the terms "Gonzo" and "Fear and Loathing." What I'm loathing is how hollow it all sounds. But, who am I to judge--I don't have the chops or the heart to attempt it either. This article, sent by Anonymous Reader X has something worthwhile to say.

An Appreciation: The Thompson Style: A Sense of Self, and Outrage

somewhere in Hell's smoking section, my guess is that he's got a quiet booth in the back and right know he's bitch-slapping Richard Nixon. When I get there, I'm going to buy him a drink. And then I'm going to take him by the arm, and we'll go see what Marilyn Monroe is doing.

Let the good times roll.

--OZ

I received a letter in the mail today, from me. A much older me.

It was postmarked to arrive on my 16th birthday, but there was a scribbled sticky note attached from the USPS that reads, “Delayed delivery, insufficient postage. January 1985” I opened it carefully.

Dear Oz,

Surprise! I am you--at age, well...really old. Best wishes from the future. I’ve invested what remains of our available cash in time-travel delivery of this letter—I hope it finds you well. It’s prohibitively expensive to use this technology, but if you follow my advice exactly, I’ll be wealthy enough to send you additional messages to arrive each year with further information/advice.

Being the future you, I thought I could share some tips that you may find very helpful on this, the occasion of your 16th birthday. I know you were (are) disappointed that you did not find a car with a ginormous bow on it in the driveway this morning. Fortunately for you, this letter will prove to be far more valuable if you carefully heed my advice. Remember, I have my (your) best interests at heart.

Your High School Years:

Don’t try to grow your hair long. It just isn’t a good look for you. Do not date anyone named Angie, Jenny, or Sarah. Especially not Sarah.

Do not try to squat 450 pounds next year.

Relax; reliable drug testing will not be available for years.

Don't attempt "break dancing."

Wear your seatbelt at all times; you’re going to be hitting some stuff.

MOST IMPORTANT...Take all your money and buy stock in companies called “Microsoft” “Wal-Mart” or “Starbucks.” Cut lawns, take out a loan, sell your body—it doesn’t matter. Just get the money.

Your College Years:

It doesn’t matter what you major in or what grades you get. Go for something fun like Psychology.

Under no circumstances take a second semester of calculus.

Change your major several times and try to extend your undergrad to 6-7 years. Do not mix wine and tequila. Avoid rooming with anyone named Vlad or Eric. Your junior year—don’t worry; it’s just a strange mole.

Travel/Safety:

Don’t fly—Pan Am flight 103, or TWA flight 800.

No air travel, and steer clear of New York in September of 2001.

Avoid Space Shuttles Challenger or Discovery. (I realize there's not much risk here but by now if all is going according to plan you're a world-famous prophet and visionary, so anything is possible)

Miscellaneous:

By stock in anything related to technology in the late 1990’s. Seriously, anything will do.

Sell you’re your entire stock portfolio in early 2000. This will *seem* like bad advice—But trust me, sell it all.

In a few years you're going to hear about a product called Rogaine—go ahead and start with that right away.

Do not pay money to see any of the following movies: Showgirls, Roadhouse, Stop or My Mom Will Shoot, The Stuff, SuperFuzz, Cannonball Run II, White Nights, Cobra, Weekend at Bernie’s, Lambada: The Forbidden Dance, Tron, Highlander 2, Xanadu, Zapped! or Zapped Again.

Whew--That should get us started! Have fun, make us some money, and I’ll hopefully send you another letter next year in 1986.

Best wishes,

Me (you!)

P.S. By the way--Michael Jackson is a pedophile, you will never be beaten at air hockey, O.J. Simpson is going to kill a couple of people but will beat the rap, absolutely nothing happens at the millennium changeover, forget about flying cars (that never happens), and your soulmate will be waiting tables at a pizza place on Arapahoe Rd. in two years. Look for the pony-tail and the cute ass. She’s a sucker for a good dirty joke…

Continuing this week’s theme of America’s Shameful entertainment legacy.

Reading between the lines of the...

Laverne and Shirley Theme Song Lyrics

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.
Schemeel, schlemazel, hasenfeffer incorporated.
We're gonna do it!

Okay, we need one more verse in here—I don’t care what it is. Count to eight for all I care!
Schlemiel = noun. (Yiddish) a dolt who is a habitual bungler [syn: shlemiel].
Schlimazel = noun. (Yiddish) a very unlucky or inept person who fails at everything. A born Lenny. [syn: schlimazel, shlimazel.]
Hasenfeffer Incorporated = [Sour Rabbit Stew] Holding company that owns both The Pizza Bowl, and Arnolds.

Give us any chance, we'll take it.
Read us any rule, we'll break it.
We're gonna make our dreams come true.
Doin' it our way.

*Poof* You have the chance to grow old with prissy brunette and a stuffed cat.
Rule number 1, dreams really do come true in Milwaukee Wisconsin.

Nothin's gonna turn us back now,
Straight ahead and on the track now.
We're gonna make our dreams come true,
Doin' it our way.

Yes, if “our way” means falling asleep clutching Boo-Boo Kitty to the sound of the two greasers upstairs getting it on.

There is nothing we won't try,
Never heard the word impossible.
This time there's no stopping us.
We're gonna do it.

Except we actually did hear the word “impossible” on three occasions.
Carmine Ragusa: “That’s impossible, I was wearing a condom”
Squiggy: “That’s impossible, I was wearing a condom”
Lenny: “That’s impossible, Squiggy was wearing a condom”

On your mark, get set, and go now,
Got a dream and we just know now,
We're gonna make that dream come true.
And we'll do it our way, yes our way.
Make all our dreams come true,
And do it our way, yes our way,
Make all our dreams come true
For me and you.

All our dreams of growing old together as bottle-cappers at the Shotz brewery, with occasional visits by Fonzie, and possibly being gay but not knowing it. Oh yes, we’re on our way…

Fame on, Fame off

Ralph Macchio reflects on films that made him famous

By Douglas HydeSpecial to CNN.com
Special Monday Update extended commentary in super blue text
Tuesday, February 8, 2005 Posted: 11:36 AM EST (1636 GMT)

LOS ANGELES, California (CNN) -- For Ralph Macchio, there's just no escaping "The Karate Kid."

Particularly a certain phrase.

" 'Wax on, wax off' -- [it] comes every day. Well, maybe not every day, but every week," says Macchio. "And everyone yells out the phrase as if they'd just come up with the idea, thinking, 'Whoa, isn't that genius? Hey Ralph, wax on, wax off!' "

If you ever see Ralph on the street, don’t be a schlub. Say something original. “Hey Ralph, good to see you—I bet a friend of mine $5 you were dead! What have you been up to for these past 21 years?”

Still, Macchio has gotten used to nostalgic Gen-X'ers quoting lines from the 1984 coming-of-age classic. Now, to his surprise, another generation is picking up on the film.

I remember seeing Karate Kid and being so pumped up! I felt like I could do anything. Of course, it was all a cock-a-doody lie. It turns out I couldn’t do “anything.” It was all so much falderal. What I *could* do was develop a pretty heavy chemical dependency problem, drop out of community college, and play X Box a lot. Remembering the deception of my childhood tortures my soul. Thank you Daniel-san.

"I go into Blockbuster now and I bump into the sales person or the person behind the desk and they say the film is always out, [that] parents say, 'Oh, this is a good one. I want to share this with my kids.' "

Look Mr. Macchio, we’ve talked about this before. If you don’t stop trying to autograph the rental movies I’m going to have to call the police again. Remember last time? Now please, just go back to your car and sleep it off.

Those parents (and kids) can now get a new edition of the film. A special edition DVD, loaded with extras, arrived last week as part of a four-disc "Karate Kid Collection" box set.

“Loaded with extras.” Translation: There’s some limited scene selection capability (movie 1st half or 2nd half), the theatrical trailer for Starship Troopers, and you can turn on Spanish subtitles. Disks 2, 3 and 4 are blank recordable DVD-Rs.

Macchio has watched it with his own kids and was surprised to discover he identified not with his teenage character, Daniel LaRusso (or "Daniel-san"), but with a certain sage handyman/karate master.

You are going to sit there and watch my movies and eat your popcorn, damnit. I don’t care what your friends are doing. They should be watching this too. This is classic—look, this is the part where I stand there like a wounded chicken. Hey, missy—you cut that out right now or I’ll GIVE you something to cry about…

"It was interesting to watch the film with them, and for the first time I was relating to the Miyagi character, as the mentor, as the one trying to guide the misguided youth," he says of the teacher played by Noriyuki "Pat" Morita. "And I kept saying this Daniel character is just a little arrogant in making these mistakes."

Pat stopped returning my calls about 14 years ago. He said he was going “off the grid” and I wouldn’t be able to reach him probably. But then I heard he was dating Calista Flockhart for a while. I think he just doesn’t have a new permanent number yet. It’s hard when you’re all famous like us. I’m sure he’s going to call me soon. I’m going to sit over her by the phone, just in case.

'You learn to appreciate it'

The "Karate Kid" DVD box set includes all four films: "The Karate Kid" (1984), "The Karate Kid Part II" (1986), "The Karate Kid Part III" (1989) and "The Next Karate Kid" (1994), the latter starring a then-unknown actress named Hilary Swank.

Of course, it’s funny because now Hilary Swank is such a household name. Just say “Hilary” and people immediately respond “Swank.” It’s like playing Marco Polo for Generation X people. They love it.

Macchio admits some of the films are better than others.

Mainly the ones that are Macchio-free tend to be better. Casablanca is great, and I’ve always thought Rear Window was one of Hitch’s best.

"The first film was by far my favorite. I think the second was a very worthy sequel and it explores a whole other culture. It takes you to a whole different place and you explore more of Miyagi's past and his life," he says. "I think the third one was because the second one made a lot of money, and that happens a lot. It's not, it's certainly not my favorite of the three.

In retrospect, I probably should have saved some of the money. But I was on such a roll it seemed like it would never end. Then, the whole franchise went all Hollywood and everything and stopped being about the bittersweet relationship between a boy and his karate mentor and went in this whole other direction. Of course, I begged for even a cameo part--but the director said he just couldn’t let me compromise my vision and artistic integrity by putting me in the movie...at all.

"And then Hilary Swank -- whatever happened to her?" -- he adds jokingly --"she's on the verge of winning her second Oscar or close to it, did a fourth one. That was a different director, a different writer, but it's the same Miyagi."

With the exception of his supporting role in 1992's "My Cousin Vinny," Macchio hasn't been in a high-profile movie since the "Karate Kid" era. Daniel LaRusso continues to be the role he's most closely identified with.

I’ve been doing this landscaping thing for a few years now. It’s pretty lucrative. It was called Karate Kid Garden Services at first but the studio owns the rights to the name--and so now it’s just “Ralph’s Lawn and Sprinkler.” I have my own pickup truck and a trailer where the mowers and weed whips go. I had a couple of kids who helped out in the summer, but that didn’t really work out. Sometimes I sleep in the extended cab.

It's something he's finally at peace with.

"There was a bit of time where it was overwhelming, but as time goes by, as you age you get smarter and wiser with these things and you learn to appreciate it," he says. "When you consider how few times the magic can work, you begin to realize that it's a privilege and you're quite fortunate to have had the opportunity."

I think I have a pretty good shot at “Circus of the Stars” this year. David Hasselhoff’s elbow has been acting up, which means there might be an opening on the *trapeze of doom* that I’d be perfect for.

One can almost hear an old teacher saying, "Very wise, Daniel-san. Miyagi have hope for you."

Doug Ganley also contributed to this report.

Mr. Hyde, I’m all through checking the verb tense, do you want any punctuation in here—some commas or something?

“May I have your phone number?” She asked, her eyebrows arched in sultry anticipation.

It doesn’t happen as often as it used to, but I still get this question from time to time. It’s nice, like being carded when you’re in a bar—or so I imagine. I’m always flattered when women show an interest. Lately though, it’s been happening a lot more frequently. I can’t really explain it. It’s not like I’ve been working out or had my teeth capped or anything. This most recent time was the girl at Cheap Clips who runs the counter and drives the big broom during interludes between customer check-ins. But that was just the beginning. Here are some snippets from the rest of my day.

Pizza place: Thanks for calling Mystic Pizza—please hold. {Extended pause} Thanks for holding; would you like to try our cinnamon cheesy garlic breadsticks?

Me: Not really, I would like a large pepperoni and mushroom pizza though. I’ll come pick it up.

Pizza place: Can I get your phone number?

Me: There’s no need to call, we can do the transaction now if you like--I’m ready.

Pizza place: We use it to get your address.

Me: I’ll come and get it. So, the whole address thing is sort of a moot point then.

Pizza place: We put it on the box.

Me: You might want to think about caller ID, then the number would be right there for you. What if you just write "OZ" on the box?

Pizza place: Huh?

Me: Exactly. Now, do those cheesy sticks come with any dipping sauces at all?

A similar exchange took place at my next stop, Video Hut.

Video store clerk: Can I have your telephone number?

Me: Oh thanks, I’m flattered. But just the movies please--I’m kinda going to stay in tonight.

Video store clerk: We use it to pull up your account.

Me: Could you use my membership card instead? You see, I’m waiting for an important call from my pizza place and I don’t want to tie up the line.

Video store clerk: Do you want to pay this late fee tonight? I show you had “Naughty Nurse Intensive Care IV: Bedside Manners” out, and it was four days overdue and when it came back the DVD was chipped and had teeth marks on it.

Me: I didn’t rent that. That was my wife.

By now, the people behind me are starting to make ugly noises.

This never happens at my grocery store. Although, it’s not much better there. Clerks are all trained to make direct eye contact with each customer and smile. I find this unnerving. I like a little surly in my service people. Also, no matter what I’m buying—Tic Tacs, a birthday card, Chapstick, whatever—the kid always asks, “Would you like some help out with that?” It’s insulting. I am a young, healthy male, fully capable of carrying a can of Sour Cream and Onion Pringles out to my car. Who do they think they’re talking to anyway? I’m not quite *that* old yet.

Hell. I’ll have you know that women all over town are begging me for my phone number…

Scientists have discovered why you’ll stop surfing and plant yourself on any station willing to play “Shock the Monkey.” Researchers at the University of Complicated Things have discovered a tiny gland at the base of the cortex called the Stingocampus, which moderates the human ability to appreciate music.

“The gland is active from puberty until the early onset of adulthood at about age 20.” Stated Dr. George Michael, lead researcher. “After that, the gland quickly atrophies rendering adults virtually incapable of appreciating any music not introduced during that critical seven-year span.” The phenomenon has been dubbed musicoma. It forms a mental time-capsule, much like having Madonna encased in amber.

Scientists first noted the anomaly while doing trend analysis of major-market radio, after discovering the average adult station has a mean catalog of 37 songs. Basically, the same songs by the same artists are looped into a digestible format and repeated daily.

“We’ve interviewed subjects with such acute musicoma that they break out in hives if they hear anything other than Phil Collins or Elton John,” stated Thomas Dolby M.D. “ I just know that if I hear *Sledgehammer* one more time I’m going to completely flip out…”

The Stray Cats could not be reached for comment.

Sure, clicking the Next Blog button you might stumble across something entertaining--something enlightening--even something extraordinarily naughty. But for every blog of quality you'll have to sift through dozens of pages of vacation pictures from Berwyn, Il, extended suicide notes, blogs in French (Le Bloge), and Canadian college student posts about how they've cut class (Yet again! Can you believe it?) and how last night's pub crawl left them uncertain about their true feelings for Christopher and/or Tina.

At Monday Update we've already done the suffering for you.

With a name like Shamus, you know it's going to be good. Shamus O'Drunkahan Has Issues will resolve your relationship problems, restore your will to live, get you the notes from the classes you've missed, and help you find your soul mate--ridding yourself of that cheating skank/toad forever.*

I particularly recommend A Letter to Walt's Frozen Head and Our Museum Rots.

*Standard MOconnect linkage fees apply. Your account will automatically be billed at the standard $1 per laugh "mirth surcharge" rate. Press CTRL-ALT-DEL to view further disclosures.

Mystery Lights Spotted

Last night 2/9/05 at about 7:00 Anne and I were out for our nightly dog walk and we saw two unusually bright stars to the Southeast--just above the Canis Major constellation. I marked their positions for you on this handy star map with green "X" marks. The lights looked very much like stars, but brighter than Sirius (Which, coincidentally, is called the Dog star).

I stopped to point them out, and as we watched they slowly dimmed out and disappeared entirely. The lights never changed position. From when we noticed them until we couldn't see them anymore maybe 15-20 seconds elapsed.

Keep in mind, we’re not too far from a military airfield and a major international airport, so we're pretty used to seeing aircraft of all sorts with their landing lights on, playing tag, dumping solid waste tanks, engines aflame etc. This was different. Too different.

Sure, if a plane has its landing lights on and is headed right at you it looks vaguely similar--but eventually you see movement or the angle changes and you see the strobe or wing lights. These just faded out to nothing, and we didn't see or hear anything else in that area of the sky. Plus the lights were far enough apart we don't think they were part of a single object.

Anyone else see this? I’ve requested info from the college and local news stations. Meanwhile, I’m sleeping on my back so if I wake up with short green folks in my room later they won’t be able to probe me so easy…

Where’s Jack Horkheimer when you really need him?

Sweet Home Chicago

(Photo Credit, Stolen 2005)
Okay, so maybe not the *whole* city. You will be pleased to learn the Monday Update was recently declared linkworthy by the Chicago Naughty Girl Chamber of Comedy. The swearing-in ceremony was held on February 8th at Navy Pier, and official “Tastes of Chicago” refreshments were served (beer brats, cheese fries, complementary angioplasty). Other awards will likely follow. I’ll keep you posted.

For those of you unfamiliar with Confessions of a Naughty Girl, she’s dedicated to the promotion and preservation of Golden Corral low-carb dining, Safety Dancing, Wanton Spooning, and relentless Vanilla Icing. Follow the link at left get in on the ground floor of a soon-to-be famous Southern writer who knows all the funny words and their correct sequence. You might remember her from junior high—she was the girl that made you laugh so hard during lunch that milk came out of your nose…

As many of you know, I spent some time in St.Charles, just West of Chicago (see earlier post, “Life Before Funifuti”). Eventually, I was asked to leave—some pish posh about felonious parking—but I still think of the city warmly, despite the bench warrants.

Franz Fernghut

(photo credit, Bjorn Slagelse 2005)
Monday Update congratulates Franz Fernghut of Middelfart, Denmark on being the 200th visitor to this site. Upon hearing the exciting news, Franz immediately took up skydiving. Roving photographers captured a confident Franz as he mugged for the Monday Update readers today, just seconds before debarking the aircraft piloted by half-brother Bjorn. During the 4,000 metre plunge to his death, Franz remarked that the honor of being the 200th visitor would live on as a testament to a Dane who really knew how to live on the edge (or literally, "Cuttin loosen"). The MO salutes you, Franz.

Punk/Rebel

You scored as Punk/Rebel. Yeah, this was pretty much me: Spiked out purple hawk, smoking Dunhills in SoHo... Take a QUIZ to find your High School Stereotype.

Love means never having to say your sorry. It can also mean several nights on the couch if you don't come through with the goods for V-Day. I've compiled this handy list of common gift mistakes for those of you who haven't done your shopping yet.

10. Make your own cheese kit
9. Perfume: “Rummy” a new fragrance by Donald Rumsfeld
8. DVD: Fatal Attraction
7. Lifetime Membership to the NRA
6. A venereal disease
5. Tickets to the musical Franklin Covey’s Seven Habits of Highly Successful People
4. Discount Plastic Surgery
3. Book: The Complete Dummies Guide to Sex
2. CD: Accordion Love Ballads

And the numero uno thing not to get your sweetie…

1. Dr Scholl’s medicated anti-fungal sport insoles

Additional suggestions? Post ‘em as comments below.

This question came in to the Monday Update offices today.

“I don't understand any of this. Who's OZ?”

This is pretty typical of the feedback I get--except normally it’s angrier and mentions my bad punctuation. Here's the history for anyone warped enough to be interested. Like the reasons Tom Arnold continues to find work, The Monday Update is a mystery that has never been fully explained to the public. Until now.

OZ. That's a nickname I picked up in the Navy, and it carried over into my afterlife as a civilian. For several years I did a weekly e-mail out to friends to kill a lonely, empty hour while doing my laundry. It was pretentiously titled "The Monday Update" or, as it came to be called, simply the "MO." I think I meant to rename it "Spin Cycle" at some point, but never got around to it. Several people claimed to have completely lost bladder control reading it. It was shocking, sometimes enlightening, but always chock-full of the latest swear words and very full of itself.

Boldly ahead of its time, the Monday Update predicted years ago that it was unwise to let your little boys have a sleepover at Michael's house. It's been defunct for several years for reasons too personal and shameful to explore here.

SMUB. The craze caught fire when a friend started a competing weekly--Sunday Morning with Uncle B (or by its acronym: SMUB). Sadly, it was a small fire on my coat-tails that went on smoldering for a while. The SMUB died a slow, lingering death while its chief editor gave his life to the dark side (law school)--but triumphantly reemerged about a year ago as a forum to bitterly complain about work, life in general, and to write scatological Haikus. Its author is a very gifted and funny man, but he's also terribly disturbed, and as such his complaints are often the only thing on the entire Internet worth reading. He lives in fear that someone will one day discover his double-secret identity and he'll be disbarred, downsized, or otherwise degraded. If you'd like to turn him in for the reward, you can find his musings intermittently posted at...

http://www.smub.blogspot.com/

Flash-forward to January 2005. The SMUB publicly laments the mysterious disappearance of the MO, calling it the "retarded younger brother" of the SMUB. Patently false and slanderous, as the MO was first on the scene--and is only mildly retarded. Anyhoo, rising from the ashes of good sense, the Monday Update returned in 2005 all grown up and looking for trouble as a "blog," (shorthand for weblog). As punishment for his treachery, the caption contest is designed to help my friend reacquaint himself with my frightening wrath, while simultaneously proving conclusively that we all used to have *a lot* more hair.

Basically these blogs are online journals, political rantings, miscellaneous fumings by the general public. Anyone can get a blog of their own, and post whatever their little black hearts desire. And oh, how they post. There's apparently no oversight of this phenomena at all. People all over the world post stream of consciousness drivel for the masses. Even the French. If you don't believe me, click "Next Blog" at the upper right of this page.

Hopefully that either solves the riddle for you, or you stopped reading back at "scatological." Google pays me $.000027 per hit, so I make out either way.

With love,

Ain't she a BEAUTY!

Yes friends, he's not just the litigator you know and love--He's also an accomplished African wildlife expert. This shot was taken right before the photographer (yours truly) was brutally mauled. Note the luxuriant wavy golden mane of this magnificent beast...
Crank up those keyboards kids, and submit your witty (or profane) caption ideas by Valentine's Day to win valuable prizes and CASH!

(Disclaimer: Prizes not available in all states and may not be valuable in any way. Might I suggest you refrain from calling the MO "Retarded" again?)