Avoiding The Bandwagon

The bar was a sea of red jerseys. The patrons were all proclaiming their love and loyalty to the Hawks. And, my friend, Rob, and myself , were also. We were all there united in our desire to see the Hawks win a much needed playoff game. Alas, the end result turned out to be a frowner, as the Hawks went down in the now customary overtime period. As we were watching I was once again reminded of how strong the Chicago fan base is. Pride in our local teams is a internal city joy. The population wears the team colors and furiously roots for their team. Fan loyalty---Chicago-style...... Or, is it?....... Sports traditionally has fair-weather fans. It is not uncommon in sports, every team has them. They are the ones who jump on the bandwagon when things are going great guns. The team--- pick a sport--- is the hot potato in town and these followers come along on the merry-go-round ride of success. They bask in the glow of winning. Suddenly, they turn into experts, insisting that they know all there is to know about the franchise and acting as if they are personally involved in the fight for supremacy. The bandwagon people are just that. When the team that they profess to love suddenly takes a powder from winning and becomes a loser, they jump off the bandwagon with such suddenness that they had better make sure the bandwagon doesn't roll over them...... The Hawks are smack dab among these people now. Everyone in town is a Hawks fan, or so they like to believe. The jerseys outnumber all other teams, including the mighty Bears. By the looks of things, the Hawks and the NHL must be making a mint. On one hand, I applaud this because I have always been a Hawks fan. When I was a kid, I listened to them on the radio [they were never on TV] with my brother in the room we shared. I can fondly recall the sounds of the crowd in the old, still-missed Chicago Stadium, as the ''Here Come The Hawks, The Mighty Blackhawks'' theme came sailing over the radio. The mental pinwheels my mind played, imagining the game, is a cherished childhood memory. I would fall asleep with the game still playing, the names of Mikita, Hull, Magnuson, Esposito, mingling with my dreams.........On the other hand, I do not applaud this new popularity. These new ''experts''on all things Blackhawks annoys me. They know nothing coherent about the sport of hockey. They are the types of people who blame the refs if the Hawks are losing. They wanna pull Corey Crawford immediately if he is having a bad game. They wanna fire the coach if the team makes mistakes. You know these people if you are a real sports fan. The guys who wear the jerseys and are all unreasonable passion for something that is just a game. The women who like a certain player because he is cute. What makes me angry about these people---- besides embarrassing us true fans with their witless behavior---- is that they now make it impossible to go see a game in person. The price of tickets has gone through the roof, with a good seat now averaging in the thousands. Nose bleed seats, which are almost in the parking lot, are in the hundreds. For a family, a legit family of Hawks fans, to go see them at the UC, costs the parents an arm and a leg. Meanwhile, the bandwagon people are there, sitting front and center, undeserving of the seats, but getting them because they have connections. You know them, they are the ones texting during the action, telling their friends, ''Hey, I'm here and you're not!''....... This sort of thing happened in the 80's with the Cubs. It used to be that my friends and I could decide on a nice summer's day to go to Wrigley at the drop of a hat. We knew bleacher seats would be available, or upper deck in a pinch. It was easy and affordable to park [the nuns always took care of the car for ten bucks. Apparently, God got ten percent] and we were happily watching the Cubs, most likely, lose that day. However, with WGN pumping the games all over the world---- and, the Cubs actually having a few winning teams during this period--- suddenly, Wrigley Field became the place to go for the bandwagon people. And, with this crowd, came the natural capitalistic impulse of the owners to raise the tickets sky-high. Now, us kids or young adults, had to wait in line behind every Yuppie that was trying to impress the boss. Or, drunken fools who used Wrigley as an excuse to run rampant. Now, we used to drink there, too. But, any knowledgeable fan of any sport knows the rules of drinking at sporting events. You have a few in the ballpark, but, you save your serious juicing for the bars around the park. In a quick period of time, Wrigley Field was filled with the non-Cubs ''fans'' that rankled us loyal brethren. Soon, with the combination of ticket gouging, and, the annoying ''experts'' that commented on all things Cubs, made me very disenchanted about going to 1060 West Addison. For several years, I actively boycotted games there [the bad teams helped add to the boycott] but now I have lifted my protesting stance and go as often as I can. Besides, those ''experts'' on the Cubs have now moved to ''The Madhouse On Madison'' to do their spewing on all things Hawks. When they aren't texting, that is....... I do not mean be to be totally glum on the new fans. Many, especially, the kids, are most welcome to join us loyalists. And, I get that you become a fan of a team when they win. Who wants to be a fan of a losing team when you decide to embrace a sport? So, there are many good and knowledgeable new Hawks fans out there. Welcome to the club!!! Sit back and enjoy the Mighty Blackhawks!!!....... And, you will soon be a REAL fan when you look with contempt at the people who are posers......

The Big Silver

The big screen always has fascinated me. On it, a world of magic can be created that will sweep you away. When I was very small, an imp of a child, I actually thought that there were people behind the movie screen. A child's mind is filled with impossible visions and scenarios. So, it made sense to me, in my six year old mind, that the people kissing onscreen where smooching in the vast light just beyond me. Or, that the fight going on was a real-life rumble. Chairs were flying, bottles being broken over heads. They sure made a lot of noise back there!!!........ Naturally, very soon afterwords, I came to the full realization. There weren't people behind that forty foot screen living an alternative life. Rather, it was glorious images coming from a projector behind me, shooting through the dark, birthing a new world for me. The magic of movies. Alone in the dark...... Movies and me have been a team ever since I can remember. My Dad and I were movie buddies. As a kid, we would be there, side by side, in the darkened cinema. Sometimes, my Mom or brother or sister would join us, but, most of the times, it was Dad and me. Now, we loved all kinds of movies, be they comedy, action, or drama. It is a sign of how my parents raised me that Dad took me to serious films, with adult themes. He loved me, as any good parent does, and realized that my education in the world was more than I was getting at school. He respected and fostered my budding intelligence and growing interest in the world and human behavior. Of course, I never saw any strong sexual themed movies. But, once in a while, a woman's bare breast and ass cheek would make a welcome appearance on the screen. I'm sure Dad felt a little uncomfortable at these times. Not much, however. I think he saw in my eyes that I approved of the female nudity. A small smile of satisfaction would spread on his face. It wasn't until years later that I realized that he was proud of my early interest in the female anatomy. He was the block that I had been chipped off of.......... The earliest movie I can recall seeing was in 1971, when I was 6. It was ''Patton'', starring the legendary actor George C. Scott. We saw the flick at the equally legendary Des Plaines Theater. There was a charm about this theater. Oh, it was no great shakes as a nice place to see a movie. It had old seats that must have been around since the 20's. A floor that your feet stuck to. A sound system not much better than my own stereo system that I bought at Venture. And, if you put your popcorn or drink down on the ground and didn't watch it carefully, in a matter of minutes you would see your items moving slowly down the aisle, being carried quite admirably by the theater ''pets'' that haunted the palace. But, in a strange way, The Des Plaines Theater perfectly captured that particular mood of the moment. These were the days when movie theaters averaged just a couple in the area where you lived. There weren't thousands of screens like there are now. So, when a movie came to your town, it was a big deal. You bundled up the family and went out for a night on the town. Now, ''Patton'', as you may know, is the story of the flamboyant World War Two General George Patton. Patton, the man, was a big personality that demanded a big personality to play him. George C. Scott fit the bill like a glove. All gravelly-voiced and striding with authority, Scott embodied Patton in the performance of a lifetime. But, my six year old mind was not looking at the actor's portrayal, not yet. All I remember is that the movie was loud. Filled with battle sequences. And, I saw that everyone around me was enjoying the film, including Dad. In my mind, there was a thought that sprouted that day--- though, it would take several years for me to articulate it---- that here was a most curious concept. Hundreds of strangers had made the conscious effort to leave the comfort of their homes to willingly seek out another world in the dark. That big screen. The Big Silver Screen. A world created from our fantasies and yearnings. An escape hatch from the pressures of the modern world, our everyday life. We gratefully surrendered ourselves for pure escapism. All over the world, people lost themselves in the comfort of the dark, letting our minds meld with the magic. Even as a little boy, it dawned on me that I was experiencing a powerful feeling. The willing suspension to believe......... The most memorable movie going experience in my life came in the summer of 1975 when ''Jaws'' terrorized the population. My Dad, brother, and Uncle Tom went to the late, much missed Golf Mill Theater in Norridge. I was nine that summer. We got there early, which was a good thing. Because there was a long line around the block. I had never seen that before. Literally, several hundreds of people waiting in line to see Steven Spielberg's first masterpiece. It was a cultural phenomenon , that movie. ''Jaws'' shirts were already the rage. I was concerned that with so many people there that we might not get in. No worry, though. We sat in the balcony part of the theater. And, for the next two hours, the terror of the movie surrounded us. You know, being nine, I was already a man, you see. So, I couldn't let my family see that I was scared. That was for little kids, not a worldly person like myself. In the most intense parts of the movie, I looked away from the Big Silver at my ''Acapulco'' t-shirt. It must have been noticeable because Dad slipped his arm around me, in the protective way that all Dads do. The shark was tearing people up fifty feet away. But, Dad would keep me safe..... By the way, I loved the movie....... The years passed and my movie going experiences piled up. Some were with Dad [most memorably, we saw ''Close Encounters Of The Third Kind'', both of us enchanted by the film. Dad always loved space] and some with friends. We saw the typical teenage movies like, ''Animal House'' and ''The Warriors''. We friends would gaze longingly at the women on-screen, dreaming of what we would do with them if they ever decided to walk off the screen. They never did...... Sometimes, I could  scramble up a date to take on a Saturday night. I would always try to choose either something romantic or something to get their rocks off. I saw ''Top Gun'' many times, not because it was a good movie [it is a laughable movie] but because I knew whatever woman I was with would get excited about the beefcake flyboys in the movie. It worked a lot.......... But, in recent years I have not gone much to the theater. The Big Silver I still love. It is different now, however. Long gone is the pleasurable experience of sitting down and enjoying a quality movie with a respectful audience. The films today are mostly recycled garbage aimed at a ten year olds. And, the audience for these viewings are a horror. The plague of cell phone usage and the constant talking is a major hurdle that I can no longer battle. It astounds me that people seemed to find nothing wrong in having a conversation in a movie theater, as if they are at home. The mentality is as low as the movies they are seeing. And, this irks me on two levels. 1] Because people are being ignorant and rude [something I will never tolerate in any form by anyone] 2] Having falling in love with the movies and the experience of being drawn into the sweet joy of  big screen memories, it saddens me to think this marvelous joy is fading away before my eyes. The current average moviegoer has never had a good time at the movies. They believe that they have but they are sadly mistaken. They just went to a movie........ Whereas, I have had memories.......

Goodbye, Dave

You knew that this was gonna be different television by the ''cold opening''. That is the TV term for starting a show right then, with no fanfare or trumpets blasting. A sweet-faced, benign old man faced the camera uneasily and stated that what you are about to see would be different. The old-timer, named ''Larry 'Bud' Melman'' by the show, but, in reality was a forgotten actor named Calvert DeForest, looked like he was something different also. A man who somehow snuck into the TV studio late at night at 30 Rockefeller Center and jumped in front of a waiting camera. Which is kinda what happened, for, here was a new show that TV would never have before permitted on the air because it was so different and unusual. ''Larry 'Bud' Melman'' was proclaiming to the unsuspecting public at large, ''Ladies and Gentlemen, meet David Letterman!''....... Actually, the public knew of David Letterman. He was one of the hot up-and-coming comics to emerge in the 1970's. David, or Dave as we came to know him, cut his teeth in the drunk and seedy comedy clubs in L.A., where you often faced hostile and threatening audiences. But, Letterman had the, not so much as the best comic delivery, but, the quick-on- your- feet response that most comics prize. He could immediately comment on any given situation through the comedic mind, which is looking at the outside world through an absurd filter. Letterman was spotted by a talent agent in L.A. for ''The Tonight Show'' and in November, 1978, he made a very strong first appearance on the show. So strong was that one-time shot that soon he was being touted as the heir apparent to his idol, Johnny Carson. Carson himself was immediately smitten with Letterman and promoted his career. Soon, Dave was hot in show business, getting gig after gig. Eventually, in June 1980, NBC would give him a morning talk show where he could fully realize his inventive mind. His show was the anti-talk show. Instead of embracing show business, the Letterman morning show mocked it mercilessly. ''How dare show business people take themselves so seriously'', was the battle cry of the program. Dave kept it creative and wacky, doing things that had never been done on a talk show, like elevator races and stupid pet tricks. He interviewed people on the street from his studio [which he did take from Steve Allen in the 50's] but, Dave put his particular spin on the concept and created comic gold. The morning show was bright, inventive, and hip. Which, of course, made it impossible to succeed at that time of day. Housewives and older people would never buy into that type of humor so early in the day. The audience that would appreciate that crazy type of comedy would be the young, hip college crowd. And, they sure as hell were not watching daytime TV. They were still sleeping away the late morning. No, David Letterman needed something later, real late, after the grownups had gone to bed and the kids took over the TV. Kinda like the people who produced his show had taken over a TV studio after the adults went home...... NBC canceled his morning show after a couple of months and held Letterman to a ''holding deal'' with the network. That basically meant he was their property, he could not go to work for another network while he was signed with them. NBC was looking to put Letterman somewhere. Finally, the show after Carson, ''The Tomorrow Show'' with Tom Snyder [a great show on its own merit, too] was scrapped in favor of David Letterman doing his talk show. It didn't hurt Letterman that Johnny Carson would be producing the show through his production company. Carson still was a Letterman champion and knew Letterman would be a success somewhere. So, ''Late Night With David Letterman'' was born on February 1, 1982. It started with that ''cold opening'' of the strange looking old man named ''Melman''. Then, the show took off into an hour of television that was new and revolutionary. The highlight was when Bill Murray, looking like he had haven't slept for several days, did a hilarious rendition of the Olivia Newton-John song. , ''Let's Get Physical'', complete with jumping around the studio, aerobic-style. Murray set the tone that night that he was in on Letterman's game plan. Dave was gonna be different from the traditional talk show. That anti-talk show mentality had carried over from his morning show. And, true to prediction, the late night audience fell in love with him. He garnered a strong youth following [a key prize for advertisers] and critical acclaim. His ratings, while never huge, were enough for him to make a tidy profit for NBC while still reinventing the medium. Old favorites, like stupid pet tricks, films by his dog, Bob, and going out of the studio to catch the real weird still were the norm. And, Dave also did something that no talk show host ever did: he made his guests squirm if they showed the slightest tendency to take themselves too seriously. This made for interesting television, because all of show business is filled with the ego trippings of the stars. Dave called them on it--- be they Shirley Maclaine or Cher--- and many times real sparks would be flying. Over the bubble of the comedy filter came tension and compelling interplay among him and the guests....... Dave also encouraged experimentation among his staff. His writers shared his goofy comic sensibility. Chris Elliott, a writer with a bizarre mind and even more bizarre appearance, became his on-air foil. Elliott created the ''Angry Man'', the ''Conspiracy Man'',  the ''Fugitive Guy'', and a multitude of weird and wacky scenarios. Dave was the straight man, which is to say that he made the comments on TV that his audience was saying at home. This way of comment on the moment has been the essence of his career, the spine of David Letterman as a performer. The unspoken bond he has always had with his audience is ''Look how we make fun and ridicule these people and events that are taken so seriously!''............ Merrill Markoe was his partner in this comic crime. She met Dave at the ''Comedy Store'' in the late 70's---- a female comedian who palled around with the boys--- and soon became his girlfriend and creative sidekick. She would give him her best jokes to use, kinda like in high school when the girlfriend would do the boyfriend's homework. She shared Dave's dream of creating an alternative comedy talk show. She was as vital behind the scenes as Dave was in front of the camera. As the 80's went forward and ''Late Night With David Letterman'' reached greater glories of success, the relationship changed between them. She was more in the background and unhappy. She had to put up with Dave's moods and depressions---not an easy task. Not surprisingly, their personal relationship began to suffer also. Soon, Merrill Markoe and David Letterman would part, a breakup that had reshaped modern comedy........ David Letterman never forgot his comedian buddies from the salad days on the Sunset Strip. The best and brightest of them was Jay Leno. When Dave first came to California, he studied Leno and based his stand-up style on Jay. The two became close friends and supported each others careers. When Dave got ''Late Night'', his most prized and frequent guest was Jay Leno. Jay averaged about an appearance a month on the show. And, he always hit a home run. Jay was razor-sharp in his comedy, something that he, sadly, lost as his fame grew. The highlight of every Jay appearance would be ''Jay's Beef'', which entailed Jay talking about what is pissing him off in life. Dave would laugh, long and hard, at Jay, as would the audience. Very quickly, Jay Leno's star rose. He would become the best and hottest stand-up working. NBC would eventually sign him to host the Monday night edition of the ''Tonight Show'', when Carson would be off......... The 80's turned into the 90's. David Letterman routinely did the best show on TV. Despite his growing fame, Dave never lost his outsider status that so endeared him to his audience. He was the kid in the back of the classroom who made fun of the brighter and more better-looking kids in school. His style of comedy was enormously influential. Every night after a show was put to rest, there were upcoming generations of dreamers going to bed wanting to do what Dave was doing. Conan O'Brien, Jon Stewart, Jimmy Kimmel, Jimmy Fallon, plus untold stand-up comics caught the glow of Dave's genius. The torch of the Next Generation in comedy had been lit by David Letterman. Soon, these aspiring comics would pick up that torch........ By 1991, Johnny Carson was tired. He had scaled the highest mountaintop in show business, reigning supreme for over three decades as the King Of Late Night. Now, well into his 60's, he wanted to step down, a King giving over his kingdom to a successor to the throne. The fact that Johnny had always preferred David Letterman to take over the ''Tonight Show'' was a given fact. Carson never stopped being a fan Of Letterman and his comedy. Also, because Carson produced ''Late Night'', it was naturally assumed in the television industry that Letterman would get the show. But, NBC had other plans. They liked Jay Leno, who, by now, had become the permanent substitute host. Jay was popular with the audience but his comedy had mellowed. And, not for the better. His comic edge was gone. He was ''safe'', non-threatening or challenging. Unlike Letterman, Leno loved NBC and the whole show-business lifestyle. Sadly, this once strong comedian became the ass-kisser that he had always joked about. This was what NBC wanted in a host to replace Carson, not the rabble-rousing, thumb his nose at authority Letterman.To the surprise of everyone, including Carson and Letterman, Jay Leno was given the gig at the ''Tonight Show''. When Letterman heard that his old friend had gone behind his back and stole the show from him [and Leno did, with him and his opportunist manager and Svengali, Helen Kushnik, slowing acing Carson out] Dave was angry and sad. His ultimate dream was to take over the show from his idol, Carson. Now, the dream was dead and it looked like Dave would be forever the also-ran. But, David Letterman held some aces of his own. He was still the brightest star in comedy and the most influential. His services were in high demand. If NBC did not want him, then, everyone else did. In the winter of 1991/92, the bidding war for David Letterman escalated into a media frenzy. Would Dave walk out on NBC when his contract ran out? Would his many suitors in the television industry grab him, including CBS and ABC? Would the FOX network pony up big money to spearhead their struggling network? Big money indeed was offered, tens of millions for Dave, and hundreds of millions for any winner that snagged him. In addition to the money, what David Letterman truly wanted was the earlier time slot [11:30pm Eastern time, 10:30 pm, Central] to try to appeal to a bigger audience. Dave was confident that he could bring his comic sensibility to the earlier time slot. NBC did not believe so, which is why they went with Leno. Eventually, David Letterman signed with CBS. He would go head-to-head with the ''Tonight Show'' and his, now rival, Jay Leno. The start date would be August, 1993. The remainder of his time at NBC and ''Late Night'' would be him joking about his leaving the network. But, it would also entail him closing the chapter on his most original work. For though he would encounter tremendous success at CBS, he never again captured the spirited innovation of his NBC years. These years ''made'' David Letterman. The spark of his genius was established, and in terms of creativity, he never reached those heights again...... In August of 1993, the ''Late Show With David Letterman'' premiered to much hoopla and media attention. Not only was it a new show but the press had created a story of intense rivalry between Jay Leno and David Letterman. Here were two old friends, who had risen together to the stratosphere of American comedy in tandem, battling it out for the viewers. The fact that Leno, the usurper, had aced out the legend, Carson, for his grab for the brass ring, added fuel to the fire. Jay Leno was cast as the villain in the story [not an unfair depiction]. And, at first, Letterman trounced the ''Tonight Show'' in the ratings. The reason was simple: Dave was doing a better, more interesting program. The change was quite noticeable in his demeanor. He looked happier, more in command of his show, as if , he finally found his Garden Of Eden. His guests were more famous but on most nights, Dave was the bigger star. He was the hottest property in show business. And, he changed his act. Gone were the elevator races and man-on-the-street observations. Now, he sat at his desk and talked. A hidden gem in the Letterman arson of talent is his ability to just talk to the camera, like sitting next to someone on your couch in your living room. He became easy going David Letterman. He could still be a smart-ass. But, he mellowed his outsider status now that he was an insider. Dustin Hoffman once described Dave as the modern day Mark Twain, a humorist who also touched the public psyche. Dave sure was and he excelled in his new form. In due time, the excitement of his show waned somewhat and he fell behind Leno in the ratings. He still had the prized, younger demographic, which brought both him and CBS vast buckets of money. He was Number 2 but he was still the show everyone talked about the day after.......... David Letterman's finest moment on TV came on September 17, 2001. It was the first Monday following the 9/11 attacks. The world was still brittle in its emotions. America had been shaken by the death and horror of the previous Tuesday. The country was in a state of shock and seemed to be in need of a jolt back to reality. It is not hyperbole to say that Dave brought us back, in terms of allowing ourselves to enjoy life again and laugh. All of show business looked to him to give the official nod of approval. But, Dave, always wonderfully unpredictable, threw a curve. Instead of finding some humor in what had happened---- which, was impossible---- Dave spoke from his heart about what had happened and the affects on him. And, through his experiences, he channeled the national grief. Dave spoke for us all. It was poignant and quite eloquent. There were throwaway asides that got a few titters, but, Dave showed class and respect. It was a hallmark moment for the show, and, especially, for the man....... Throughout the years of ''Late Night'', Dave has held the crown of the elder statesmen of comedy. Like his idol Johnny Carson, David Letterman has made careers on his show and fostered talent. He has done this with the customary distance of a king. The king's approval is sought out and yearned for. To not get the king on your side can be damaging to a career. But, David Letterman has always championed the underdog and showcased the poor soul. He became the performers best friend when they appeared on his show. Many comics, from  Ray Romano to the guy you are planning to see this weekend at Zanies, is beholden to Dave and his reach......... David Letterman has shown his private life, in spurts, on his show. He had triple-bypass surgery in 2000, a son in 2003, and a nasty scandal involving sexual exploits with his interns. The last item was the most tricky to maneuver. But, Dave stood tall when he sat in his chair and told the audience of his failings as a man and husband. It certainly wasn't a high point in his life. He was wrong and admitted his wrongdoing. However, he took it like a man should: by facing the music....... And, now, after over thirty years holding the national pulse, David Letterman is stepping down. He is 68 years old now and has made his mark. I'm sure he feels he has done all that he can do. Now, he rides off into the sunset with, I hope, a profound sense of what he has accomplished and the pioneering of comedy he has governed over. His followers, from Jon Stewart to the deplorable Jimmy Fallon [even the best performers inspire the worst] have been so influenced by him that they are carbon copies of the original Dave form. But, the imitators can never top the king. No Elvis impersonator has ever come close to the real Elvis. David Letterman will say goodbye tall in the saddle, a renaissance man of comedy and satire and commentary....... Thank you, Dave.......

We Don't Need Another Hero

My previous blog had to do with the story of ''Shoeless'' Joe Jackson and his fall from grace. At the time of his fall, he was one of the most popular players in all of baseball, a sure Hall Of Famer and someone kids emulated. To see that he was less than human shocked and saddened his many legions of admirers. He was no longer a hero. In fact, baseball itself, after the notorious ''Black Sox Scandal'', took it to the chin in the public eye. Since the public willingly chases heroes and seeks out athletes and public figures to be something more than their human parts, when the emperor has no clothes and is exposed to the general population, we, as a people, tend to switch over to the opposite track: we become more abusive and demeaning. In the aftermath of the scandal in 1919, baseball was seriously floundering. There were predictions that the sport may not ever recover, that there was a permanent black eye around the golden halo of the summertime classic. While the cheating players got their just desserts for their actions, that was only part of a solution for baseball. No, what the sport needed was a genuine HERO, someone who could stroll into the ballparks in the land and, with one mighty swat of his bat, he could erase the bad tidings of a tainted World Series and the blemish would be gone. Baseball was crying for such HERO. And, one was found. His name was George Herman Ruth, better known as Babe Ruth. When he became the mythic figure that he was, the sport of baseball rebounded and has forever flowered in all its glorious summer haze......... Heroes often come at times of trouble, in various forms. Look throughout history, from Jesus to the men who formed the critical Boston militia that put forth our nation's independence [Sam Adams was more than just a beer], there has been someone who has arisen from our darkest times to lead the way into the light. Perhaps, the best example is Abraham Lincoln. While we know what he did was monumental, it is, in some ways, almost underrated. The man, because of his vision and personal charisma, saved the United States from crumbling. A man of decency and principle, he led our nation from the horrors of the battlefield to the freedom of all men and women. The details are immense and he certainly got his hands dirty along his march towards historical destiny, but he never lost sight of his goal. And, that goal, mixed with the natural ability of most human beings to be decent, made us the country we are......... We have always needed heroes. Part of the need is our living through their heroics vicariously. To be in a position to alter history for the better is most attractive. Imagine the joy of bettering all of humankind with your actions. You give a little more positive meaning to a life form that was in desperate need of some salvation. Picture yourself as an Einstein, with his scientific wonders, to an Edison, who revolutionized how we live our daily lives. Martin Luther King with his dream that we all live in peace. The Beatles coming over to revive a nation's spirits three months after we have killed our President in cold blood. Most of our heroes, however, are unsung. These are the men and women who drive the engine of our daily lives. These are the workers who fuel the economy, the doctors and nurses who battle to save us from sickness, the police and firemen who risk their lives, the military personal who fight to keep us free so that we do not need to fight, the single mothers and fathers who work two or three jobs so their kids can live a normal life. In all walks of life, heroes walk amongst us. Unfortunately, we do not celebrate these heroes. It is taken for granted. No, we give our adulation to, mostly, entertainers and professional famous people. I admire many people in these fields but I do not call them heroes. That is putting a label on them---- also, in a weird way----- putting undue pressure on them to live up to impossible expectations of divinity........ Look at who are the leading candidates running for President in 2016. It is almost a macabre, cruel joke that the two front-runners for both parties have the last names Clinton and Bush. Haven't we seen this play before? This is what we have to look forward to? Two families that have long overstayed their welcome on the national stage. Where, we might ask ourselves, are the Lincolns and Roosevelts? Genuine heroes of a past age who made a mark that was a tremendous lunge forward for all of us. Well, they do not exist anymore, at least, in our public face to the world. A smart, decent person who wants to help for the general good is smart enough to not get in the public arena. He or she would get shredded by the hired guns whose job it is to smear the mighty. When I was a kid, the statement my teachers said to us is, that if you work hard enough, you could be anything you want, even President Of The United States. That time is past. It would be almost an insult for me to say that to a student now........ The heroes today are the people I have mentioned above, the everyday folks like you and me that live our lives in normal circumstances and get normal rewards in life. As I have gotten older, I am grateful that I never became the public person that I aspired to be in my youth. I would have liked to have made a mark for the betterment of humankind, but not at the price that a public person, a hero, pays. The price is too high. Either you lose yourself mentally or physically at some point. You cannot live up to the high ideals that the public gives you. And, in private, these people suffer from the internal guilt of not being God. I think that is where the bad behavior and self-destruction comes in for so many heroes. The feelings of self-hatred because they succumb to the pressures of just being merely mortal. They turn to drugs and alcohol and other bad behavior to keep the wolves away from the psychological door to their souls.......We must grab the mantle from the public people and celebrate the achievements of the private person. The Average Joes and Joans. We will never marry a Kardashian [an achievement in itself] and we will never touch the heights of great wealth and fame. No, we are the normal people, people that children should look up to. And, many do, if they have the correct parenting. Heroes are us....... As I write this, there is rioting in the streets of Baltimore. It is over another racial division. CNN just interviewed a thirty year Vietnam war veteran. He went down there after seeing the carnage on TV. He is not there to riot. He said he was there to talk to the youth about what they are doing and to tell them to go home. I hope he is successful in his endeavors. He said he is there because he loves his country and wants to give back. CNN gave the viewers his name. I could print it but I am not......... Unsung Heroes do not use their names........

It Wasn't So, Joe

The swing was a bit of poetry in motion. For someone who hit from the left side, sometimes, the stance a batter takes can be comical. But, not him. He seemed to be plucked right out of Central Casting, the baseball hero come to life. He stood erect, as befitting a Roman conqueror facing his ultimate foe throwing from a mound not too far away. The pitcher would be throwing fire at the hero, trying to smite him out through sheer intimidation and danger power. But, the hero would not cower. You see, he was made from the hand of God for these moments. The ball would try to cross the plate but it would be defeated in its purpose. Because the batter would swing and connect. And, the ball would travel faster and with more urgency than anyone had ever hit a baseball. Round the bases he would go, a familiar sight among his audience. When he would slide, the spikes would be at a non-dangerous level, so unlike some of his fellow players who delighted in spiking their opponents. He would be safe at the bag most of the time because a hero always triumphs. The hero on base loved baseball, it was all that he knew and loved. It flowed through his blood like, well, blood. Never could he remember thinking and feeling about anything else. It drove him and he would play anywhere, anytime. In fact, legend has it, he was so committed to the game of baseball that, in one game, he developed blisters on his feet from his spikes. But, he had an at-bat coming and he did what any baseball lover would do: he removed his spikes and played in his bare feet. And, true to form, he got a hit and rounded the bases and slid safely into third. His feet bloody and sore, he did what he had to. A heckling fan in the stands [and what would sports be without the heckling fans?], wise guy that he was, shouted at him, ''You shoeless son of a gun, you!'' The crowd roared, as did the players on the field. Therefore, from that time forward, the player, the baseball hero, had a new nickname: ''Shoeless"' Joe Jackson....... Joe Jackson was born on July 16, 1887, in Pickens County, South Carolina. His father was a sharecropper and moved the family several times in little Joe's youth. They were from the South, and being from the South at the turn of the century, chances were, you were very poor. And, the Jackson family was. Joe also suffered from several illnesses growing up. At 10, he contacted measles, which almost killed him. He lay in bed for two months, a tragic victim of paralysis. Slowly, he was nursed back to health by his mother. When he was well enough, at the age of 6, he went to work in the textile mills. This was the period of child labor exploitation, so, it was not at all unusual to see kids working so very young. He worked 12 hour shifts and had no time for school. In fact, for his entire life, he was illiterate. He never learned to read and write. He could not even sign his own name, again, not unusual in this time period........ Little Joe, adult worker in a child's body, had a talent he was born with. He could hit a baseball. And, hit it well. In cornfields and dirt patches, baseball was soaring among the youth in this time. Boys and baseball were a team bonded, for young men, there was no other thought than playing the game with your friends. It was easy and no money spent, a welcome thought for poor kids. Many boys had their bat made for them by their farmer fathers. Sawing the wood down to a fine coating, with no nicks in it, made for a fine weapon for the hitter. Joe Jackson was no exception in this crowd. His bat was homemade. But, the bat, however fine it was, did not answer the reason for his talent at the game. No, his talent was God-given. God gave him this ability to be so supreme at the game, almost effortlessly, that seemed to glide on the field like he was born to be there. He was a natural, made for the game. At that this tender age, he hit and ran like no one had ever witnessed before. And, he had a flair at pitching. One day, though, while playing for the mill's baseball team, he accidentally broke a player's arm with his fastball. This provoked fear among his rival players and no one wanted to face him anymore. Finally, his manager put him in the outfield. And, he flourished, hitting the ball and making himself a minor celebrity around the area. Soon, he was moving from mill team to mill team and, by 1908, Major League Baseball came calling for his services, when he signed with the Philadelphia Athletics. He also took a bride, 15 year old Katie Wynn [this was the South, remember]. For the first couple of years in the majors, he struggled, succumbing to the stereotypical story of the hayseed having trouble adjusting to the big time. He would bounce back and forth from the minors and, finally, out of frustration, Philadelphia would trade Joe Jackson to Cleveland in 1910. It was around this time that he picked up his nickname........ In 1911, he finally bloomed into his early promise. He hit a sizzling .408 batting average, second only to Ty Cobb. In fact, Cobb, the game's finest hitter and a notoriously horrible human being, actually found kind words for Joe Jackson. Baseball had a new power hitter in the illiterate boy from Pickens County. Fans became rabid to see him and followed his every move. Little boys, especially. Jackson was the idol of the little boy who dreamed of a baseball career, the little boy who slept with his glove underneath his pillow at night. He became a hero to emulate for other youngsters when they played each other on fields all over America. This was the time before radio, and, so, the only way to follow your hero was through newspaper accounts. Soon, anxious, eager boys were ripping the paper out of each others hands because they wanted to hear the latest exploits of their king of the diamond. Jackson never let them down. He seemed even better in the next few years---always one step behind Cobb but immensely more popular and accessible than the petulant Ty--- and he became a huge draw at home in Cleveland and on the road. Joe Jackson was mobbed wherever he went. People wanted to touch him and get his autograph. The sad irony was the man could not write his much-lusted after signature. His wife would write it for him......... Because he was such a hot property, naturally, other teams took a liking to him. Soon, offers flooded the offices of the Cleveland Indians, begging for the services of Joe Jackson. Apparently, the Chicago White Sox begged the loudest. Joe Jackson was traded to the White Sox in August of 1915. He found comfort and success in his new home but not among his fellow teammates. The other players seemed cold and distant to the simple Jackson, not at all like his former Indian players. Because there was such division in the clubhouse, Joe just played his game in an unassuming and modest way [much like he was in real life] and left the petty business and bickering to others. In 1917, the Chicago White Sox won the World Series and mostly because of the hitting of Joe Jackson. He played hard, perhaps, harder than he ever had. And, the adulation bestowed upon him showed in the Chicago faithful. The White Sox were a young and eager team that year, thirsting for more titles. With Joe Jackson front and center, their chances at more titles seemed very likely indeed....... In 1918, they did not repeat and the reason was simple: Joe Jackson was drafted into World War 1 and worked in a shipyard. The season was awash because he wasn't around to stir them into greatness on the field. In 1919, after the ''Great War To End All Wars'' ended, Joe Jackson was back in uniform and the White Sox came out charging. Joe Jackson was hitting .351 and his fielding was flawless. When they went to the 1919 World Series against the Cincinnati Reds, the White Sox were heavily favored to blow the Reds away. Shockingly, they lost, which stunned the baseball world. The conventional wisdom was that the White Sox had blown out their energy during the hectic regular season and were too tired come the Fall Classic. The Reds, thought the public, had just played better........ But, they did not...... Charles Comiskey, the miserly owner of the Chicago White Sox, sure knew how to pinch pennies. He was the prototype of the exploitive, greedy owner that has always dominated the sports world. Comiskey shafted his players, the stars of all of baseball, to an almost poverty wage. This was 1919, remember, and ballplayers earned barely a living wage. Almost every baseball player had to work a winter job to make ends meet. Comiskey led his fellow owners in the cheap son of a bitch department. For his stars. they only made a couple of thousand dollars a year, if that. While there were other club owners [not many but some] who delivered a fair salary. Comiskey played the Mr. Potter part to a T. Soon, many White  Sox players grumbled amongst themselves about the lack of pay and the lack of respect. Because of the baseball reserve clause, there was no free agency. That binded a player to a team until the player was traded or retired. Many White Sox players were caught between a rock and a hard place. Comiskey would not blow the cobwebs off his wallet. The players needed money. That is when the Mafia came calling.......... The clubhouse was still divided. On one side was the ''Clean'' players, who just went out and did their jobs. On the other side, was the ''Black'' players, meaning they were not afraid to do whatever they had to make a buck. Joe Jackson was on the ''Clean'' side. He just wanted to play ball and that was it. But, others wanted to turn to the grey money offered by the underworld. A meeting was held, a mixture of the ''Clean'' and the ''Black'' sides. The offer was put out. In exchange for the White Sox throwing the 1919 World Series, professional gamblers [i.e. the Mob] was prepared to pay each player $5,000 dollars after the Series was lost. This was New York money, the big-time boys who were carving out the foundation of the  La Cosa Nostra. Led by gambler, Hyman Rothstein, the gamblers made the penniless ballplayers an offer they could not refuse........ Most did. Most, despite their animosity directed at Comiskey, wanted no part in the shady dealings being hatched. It has always been an open question about who actually agreed to participate. It is a fact that Eddie Cicotte, Oscar ''Happy'' Felsch, Arnold ''Chick'' Gandil, Fred McMullen, Charles ''Swede'' Risberg, George ''Buck''Weaver, and Claude ''Lefty'' Williams did have some part in throwing the games. Weaver always denied he did anything but he knew about the fix and it would later come back to haunt him. The biggest question mark was about whether Joe Jackson, ''Shoeless Joe'', the idol of the youth, was actually involved. He was certainly at the initial meeting and knew about what may happen. But, his defenders would later put out that Jackson was so simple and easily conned, that there was sufficient evidence to support his not being involved. His hitting in the Series was still stellar. But, he made many questionable fielding errors, so unlike his natural playing ability. For every success on the field, there was a costly mistake. Was he in on the fix? Or, did he succumb to the pressure of what was going on around him and he felt helpless? Even after all of these years, the jury is still out........ Rumors about what may have happened grew stronger as the 1920 season went on. The White Sox were in first place in September of 1920 when the ax fell on them from a grand jury. Eight White Sox players, including ''Shoeless'' Joe Jackson were indicted by the jury in connection of throwing the 1919 World Series. Soon, the media would coin a name for these eight, ''The Black Sox''. In his testimony before the grand jury, Joe Jackson admitted his role in the fixing. He talked about the errors in the field that he intentionally made so the Reds could score runs. Curiously, though, no such testimony to this effect appears in the official court records of the trial. This has been seized upon by Jackson's defenders as evidence he did nothing wrong. So, did he actually say in front of the grand jury what the media reported that he said? This is Chicago, folks....... A myth, very popular through the annals of baseball lore, has it that when Joe Jackson walked out of the courtroom, an innocent child said to him, ''Say it ain't so, Joe!'' Jackson retort, ''Yes, kid. It is so''. The truth is this incident never happened. Sure, there were heartbroken kids over what their hero may have done, but the Hollywood melodrama was false....... Charles Comiskey immediately suspended his ''Black Sox'' players and they lost the 1920 pennant. The grand jury recommended that all eight players be brought up on charges of conspiracy to defraud.  In 1921, the trial began. It was held in Chicago. Key evidence against the players went mysteriously missing, including the signed confession by Joe Jackson. The players were acquitted by the jury on all charges. Years later, the missing evidence would be found in the personal items of a lawyer. Charles Comiskey's lawyer....... Even after their verdict of not guilty was delivered, the eight players were still branded the ''Black Sox''. In no way did baseball want anything to do with them. The common thought was that most of the players were guilty of throwing the World Series and took the money [ the Mob shafted the players out of most of the cash. For their treason on the field, the players threw away their good names for a small amount of dough.]. The newly created commissioner of baseball, Judge Kennesaw Landis, barred the eight from baseball forever. Joe Jackson could play professional baseball no more........Was he a willing participant or was he a victim of his surrounding circumstances? Perhaps, at first, he wanted the money and went along with the plot. But, it is most likely that his conscience got to him, for he was a decent man by all accounts.When the games started, his natural decency would marry with his natural abilities. While he might have gone easy on some plays, his numbers bespeak another story. His World Series numbers show a man who was having a fine Series, the envy of any player. Jackson would spend the rest of his life proclaiming his innocence. He reportedly refused the $5,000 bribe on two separate occasions. And, he did try to tell Comiskey beforehand about the fix. True to form, Comiskey refused to talk to him or any of his players. And, there was the issue with his legal defense. Too poor to afford his own attorney, Jackson was represented by the White Sox team lawyer, an extraordinary thing because this was a clear case of conflict of interest. The story goes the lawyer, Alfred Austrian, coerced a confession of his role in the fix by getting Jackson drunk on whiskey. The lawyer was also able to get Joe Jackson to sign a waiver of immunity from prosecution, an interesting fact because Jackson could not sign his name. It wasn't until many years had passed that all of this came out. The other seven players,---- remember, never fond of each other at all, ---stated that Joe Jackson was never at any of the planning meetings........ The fallout was immense. Joe Jackson was disgraced, his public image besmirched. With his major league career in shambles, he managed a number of semi-pro teams in the minors. By 1922, he walked away from any baseball and he and his wife opened a dry cleaning business in Savannah, Georgia. This lasted for a few years until Jackson and his wife moved to Greenville, South Carolina and opened a liquor store. This would be how he lived until death came to him on December 5, 1951 at the age of 64......... Joe Jackson seemed to be a broken man for his last years. He did not turn to drink to ease his pain, he was not like that.Throughout his life, he remained the simple boy from the South who loved to hit a baseball. In those innocent days, when baseball was really baseball and real men played it simply for the love of the game, he stood tall at the plate, a Midas man who conquered his foes, even when he wasn't wearing his shoes. His influence on the game was so immense that, years after his death, there is in active campaign to finally get him enshrined in the Baseball Hall Of Fame. And, Hollywood has joined in by making him a major character in movies, most notably in ''Eight Men Out'' and the Kevin Costner classic, ''Field Of Dreams''. He should be in the Hall for his on-field triumphs. And, since his role in the throwing of the Series has always been murky, until it is proven he actually was guilty of something, the Hall Of Fame should induct him.......... There is a famous story about him in later years, often told. He was working at his liquor store, a modest, decent man making an honest, decent living. One day, his mighty on-field rival, Ty Cobb came into the liquor store. Cobb immediately recognized Jackson but Jackson seemed to show no sign of recognition towards Cobb. Finally, Ty Cobb stated, ''Joe, don't you recognize me? 'I'm Ty Cobb!''....... Joe Jackson replied quietly, ''Sure I recognize you, Ty. I just didn't know if you wanted to know me''..........

I Do Not Forget

Every once in a while I will catch a show about that day. It usually involves the History Channel or one of their satellite stations that is showing the program. Sometimes, I will switch it off because it is still too painful to watch. Seeing death forcefully real in front of my eyes is not a happy viewing. But, sometimes I watch the show. I am not a ghoul who slows down while passing a car accident. I am not of that mental variety. Rather, I watch because, in some way, I should watch. To dismiss is to slowly let the memory fade. And, the one thing we should never do is forget 9/11........ Every year around September 11, we see the recollections of that day. Our Day Of Infamy for the Internet age. Most people now were not alive for Pearl Harbor. And, the second time stamp for collective sorrow was November 22 when JFK was shot. But, for myself and millions of others, that horrendous day is just a tragic history lesson. I wasn't alive in 1963, so that event is a historical benchmark, not a personal benchmark. But, 9/11 is that for me. And, I carry that around with me as I live my life. When I watch a movie pre-9/11, I have an active part of my brain compute that it is before the tragedy. When I see a program with the Twin Towers--- those beautiful symbols of New York--- there is an eerily uncomfortable feeling of a dark cloud hovering. Because I know the secret now that we did not know then. Those towers will not be flying free in the air soon....... I am not a professional tragedy widower. You know, someone who wallows in grief so heartily that it strangely becomes about their own pain of the day instead of the pain of the real victims. No, I remember that day, because as humans, when we see the horrific affects of a death, we naturally grief. It flows from the soul of the caring. Plus, not very often do we see mass murder in front of our eyes. That day was modern day genocide of the most blatant kind. Whenever I see the planes hit the Twin Towers or the Pentagon, I just think about those people in those planes and what their final moments must have been like. It is inescapable to not to. The screaming and chaos, the crying and fear, the bedlam and the death....... Heroes were made that day. Unsung, unknown heroes. They fought the hijackers and they shed the blood. By the recordings that have been released, we know that they fought hard for their lives. They would never know the true story about why this was happening to them and who was responsible. In a poignant way, they were better off not knowing. As horrible as those last moments were for them, it was fairly quick and it was over. Their suffering and pain ended. The legacy of the hate that drove that day is on us. The victims paid the ultimate price. But, they are free now, sweetly blowing in God's wind........ It is natural to not think of this day when we go through our everyday life. We are dealing with problems and issues and situations of our own. I certainly do. Weeks or months go by without any thought of 9/11. Again, standard operating procedure. However, when it does come to the forefront of my mind, like when I stumble across a show on it, the raw emotions of that day are fast and furious. I have anger at those bastards who did the killings. I have deep hope that they are firmly snuggled in the darkest regions of Hell for eternity...... And, I feel the sorrow most of all. I think, mostly, about the children on those flights. There were many, some very small who, hopefully, had no concept of what was happening to them. Sadly, some of those children did realize what was happening. It was the Boogeyman coming to life. No child, no human being for that matter, should have gone through what they went through. The horror of horrors. Goddamn those terrorists!!!! GODDAMN THEIR SOULS!!!!..... A reason I am writing this now is simple: I do not forget. Some people, for reasons I do not understand, do forget. And, many forgive. There are even the truly misguided who think that September 11, 2001, was an inside job by our government, despite all of the evidence to the contrary. It is frightening that they are, blindly, on the side of the terrorists if they believe this. But, those types of people walk amongst us and it is of no use to talk common sense to them. I can show them an ashtray and say it is an ashtray but they will say it is a table. Both you and I know it is an ashtray but they see it differently. As I've gotten older, I concede to let people believe what they want. If this ashtray to you is a table, then, so be it. Be prepared, then, for me to flick my occasional cigar ashes on your table then........ It is a beautiful spring day. The birds are out and the sun is shining. Spring is the promise of life and its joys. After the dark of Winter, comes the light of better days. The human heart speeds up to reward the living with the simple joy of being alive. But, there are some days when the weather cannot cover the darkness. Sometimes, evil will destroy that good feeling. It is 65 degrees outside now, with beautiful blue skies. The same weather that New York had on September 11, 2001.......

Alien Love

Farmers know beautiful days better than the rest of us. The time of resurgence of the Earth, a perfect time to be bountiful with their harvest. It is an innate feeling, the feeling of the enlightened, secure in their own domain. Farmers have the edge because they commune with nature almost mystically. Therefore, on that perfect summer day in 1957, Antonio Boas, plowing his field with his trusty tracker, was going about his daily routine. But, something caught his eye. It was a light from above. Of course, he did not mistake the bright light for being the sun. This was a different light, intense and mystifying. The light touched the ground, and, being of a curious nature, Antonio approached it. However, every time he did this, the light would jump away from him, almost playing an electric game of tag. Soon, the light disappeared altogether. Kinda quizzical at what it was all about, Antonio went home and told his brother. This was Brazil in the 50's, an unchanging time of the same old same old. After conferring with his brother, Antonio chalked it up to just a freak incident. The following night, though, in the field, it happened again. The bright light reappeared. Stronger, more intense. This time it did not play hide and go seek, but, descended. When the light got very close to Antonio, he made out a shape. It was an egg shape airship. Naturally, he panicked. He turned his tractor that he had been riding on around. Or, he attempted to. The tractor, which had been in perfect working condition, suddenly stalled. In the next instant, Antonio claims he was surrounded by four, small, grayish beings. They dragged him aboard the craft and, of all things, they stripped him of his clothes....... Now, if you have been skeptical up to now on what Antonio Boas saw and experienced, it now goes into pessimistic overdrive. Boas claims he was given a sponge bath by the aliens with a clear, thick liquid. Then, he was taken to another part of the spaceship, seated on a ''humped couch'', and was abandoned. Fearing for his life, he anxiously awaited what would happen next. Soon, clouds of acrid gray smoke engulfed the room and made Antonio physically sick. He threw up. When he finally felt better, Antonio noticed he was no longer alone. What was with him was, in his own words, a naked woman with the most gorgeous body he had ever seen on a woman. That was the good news. The bad news was her face, or, whatever she had on top of her body. The face had large, slanted eyes, barely a nose or lips, and bright, red pubic hair. Basically, Lucille Ball in her later years. But, apparently, Antonio was desperate for companionship with any creature [a farm animal, as any Green Bay Packer fan knows, will only go so far] so, he had sexual relations with this close encounter, not once but twice. According Antonio, his ''partner'' seemed quite pleased with the encounter [leave it to any guy to boast about any sexual act!]. Antonio's space romp ended with his dalliance collecting some sperm samples from their union together. Then, she strangely pointed to her abdomen, then skyward. Was she telling Antonio that she was already knocked up by him? And, what was he gonna do about alien support for the offspring? Very soon after, Antonio claims, he was resurrected back to Earth, and the alien ship disappeared. The only aftereffects, he stated, was a terrible feeling of radiation sickness. He would have no further contact with any aliens. I'm not surprised.  I'm sure his partner in intergalactic sex promised to call him the next day. But, you know how aliens are once they have gotten what they want from you........Human claims of sex with aliens have been around as long as we have been fascinated by U.F.O.'s. I'm not talking sex with illegal aliens from the Mexican border, but, hardcore, nasty, naughty, galaxies pounding buggering from both sides of the sun. Stories like Antonio Boas may be a tall tale, but, they may also be true. For many people who claim to have abducted by aliens, there are very even tales of body probing and fondling and feelings of violation. Kinda like drinking with Bill Cosby. Still, it is not too much of a stretch to think that the aliens may indulge in sex with us Earthlings. It is plausible. They wanna know how us Earth people get our groove on. Why not throw an alien hosebag, from the the bars on Rush Street on Mars, looking for some forbidden love that she will never tell her father about? Every planet has their women that will sleep with anyone for fifteen minutes of fame. On Earth, we give them a show on ''E!'' and call it ''The Kardashians.'' So, if it entirely reasonable, if you buy into alien contact, then both sides would go all of the way and do the nasty. The question is, who benefits the most from it?....... I'm thinking the alien side does. After all, they are interested in the scientific research angle, possibly, to better understand other life forms from other planets and finding a means to assimilate with said life forms. Us Earth beings are just looking for a kinky time so you can tell the boys at the local saloon, ''Yeah, well, I fucked an alien! Beat that story!'' And, I'm sure that the stories will be embellished to a point where the alien was ''begging me to do it!''......... The fascination of E.T.'s is one of life's greatest interests. Who hasn't looked upwards and thought there might be intelligent life somewhere out there. I've thought of that looking at Cleveland. And, I am under the firm belief that we have been contacted from that far away alien zip code. Scientists and U.F.O. researchers trace contact from outer space to when we started sending up satellites in the late 1940's. We bounced same electronic rays off a few planets, some distant life form sees and feels those rays, and next thing we know, these aliens are putting on their best Sunday-Go-Courting clothes and they are winging it to the third planet from the sun. Roswell, New Mexico is the strongly rumored landing patch for them. In 1947, so the rumor goes, an alien craft crashed in Roswell, aliens died, and the government took the carcasses and the crashed ship to study. Various people claim to have seen the ship and the dead bodies. And, the drawings---really, rough sketches--- of the remnants show the aliens and their space SVU to be what we all imagined them to be: very thin, skeleton-like, with bulging eyes, a slit for a nose and mouth, no neck, and a body that comes with very little chest or torso. If you throw on some chic clothes, you have a fashion model from Calvin Klein........ Sure, there are many con artists who tried to jump on the U.F.O. bandwagon and have testified to their contact with the Men From Mars. Most of these people are easy to detect. They cannot complete a sentence, have a look like they just had sex with their sister, the billygoat. A bath is a swear word to them, along with a toothbrush. They take time off from working at Wal-Mart to say how they have met the dreaded alien creatures and the aliens are their new pals. It strains the credibility angle, though, to think that if these people did meet up with other life forms, the aliens didn't turn tail and get the fuck away from these pod people. Just think, if you are little E.T., away on his 8th grade field trip to Earth, what kind of luck do you have if you meet a ''higher life'' form and he turns out to be one of the ''Dukes Of Hazzard?'' I would be pissed and frightened. Why would they go further on and want anything to do with us? Yeah, there is the domination theory. They could control us. But, I'm thinking the aliens would not want to come all of this way and destroy us. Study us, yes. Learn from us, absolutely. To come with hate a long-distance sounds awful unrealistic. After all, I'm believing the aliens have no concept of hate and war. We humans have cornered all of that by ourselves....... I believe in aliens [also, ghosts]. I would love to meet an alien. The probing of my private areas doesn't suit me. I save that for my yearly physical. No, I am interested in the Different. By that, I mean, something new and exciting. Humans are really starting to bother me with their endless and sad search for control and power and degradation of their fellow men and women. Perhaps, a nice invasion by the ;E.T.'s is what we need to make ourselves more loving for each other. Many people refuse to be taught and listen. They would rather talk and lecture. A new order of life form would be an interesting alternative.......... Did Antonio Boas have sex with the Creature from Outer Space? Of course, no one knows. I never heard of this story until recently when I was reading a book about aliens. But, lets believe it is true. Put yourself in the mind frame of the aliens. They come all of this way, risking whatever their death form is, to contact us and meld with us in a way they must know is very special to humans. The act of love. There is almost something pure and innocent about this coupling. Kinda like Adam and Eve in the garden.........