Not long after I began the path that would lead me to hearing a call into the ordained ministry, someone lent me a cassette tape (yes, this story is that old) of Rick Elias' second album, Ten Stories.
Although he was at that time locked into the niche market of contemporary Christian music, it was one of that niche's most wide-open and experimental periods. Out from under the saccharine ballad format with its measure of "Jesus per minute mentions" and not yet locked into the thousand and one variations of praise and worship choruses, CCM covered as many genres as any other. The heavy DIY ethos of the punk and new wave scenes didn't hamper performers whose goal was the glorification of their Savior, not themselves.
Elias was at heart a rocker with folky sensibilities and Ten Stories was a heavy rocking album that had oddball, twisty lyrics that took time and brainpower to decipher. He was definitely singing about theological and faith matters, and he was definitely singing about them from a Christian perspective, but every time an image cleared it revealed another layer and another thought that put a listener's brain back to work.
The singer would later join up with Rich Mullins as a part of the latter's Ragamuffin Band, and participate in tribute albums and tours after Mullins' death in 1997. As the obituary notes, Elias wrote songs for That Thing You Do, My Big Fat Greek Wedding and Dawson's Creek. He also helped produce albums for some fellow CCM artists.
The opening track on Ten Stories, "I Wouldn't Need You (Like I Do) is full of poetic images taking a look at a question of human existence and purpose, some of which play off each other and some of which I still don't get. But the chorus from which the title is drawn is clear enough, and in the times when I wonder why I follow this path, I remember one of those plain-spoken phrases: "And they tell us down here we can save ourselves/But that isn't very good news/'Cause if I could have/I would have saved myself/And I wouldn't need you like I do."
Thanks, Rick.
Showing posts with label obits. Show all posts
Showing posts with label obits. Show all posts
Thursday, April 11, 2019
Saturday, January 24, 2015
So Long, Mr. Cub
In the Field of Dreams where one hopes Ernie Banks plays now, everyone says, "Let's play two!"
And they're all day games.
And they're all day games.
Thursday, January 8, 2015
No Longer Soon, But Now
Andraé Crouch wrote the awesome praise hymn "Soon and Very Soon (We Are Going to See the King), and earlier today he did just that.
Our loss, but there is no more crying there:
Our loss, but there is no more crying there:
Monday, December 22, 2014
Leave Your Hat On
Should there be a heavenly choir the way we understand choirs, the chances are that it just got a whole lot...grittier...
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
Class Passes
Lauren Bacall maintained her work and career late into her long life, appearing as recently as 2012 in The Forger. Her passing today at 89 was much less unexpected than comedian Robin Williams but leaves no less a void in the ranks of moviedom's finest, albeit one of much different shape.
I sometimes imagine what would happen to a director had he or she offered one of today's rinky-dink teeny-girl roles to Bacall, who started working opposite Humphrey Bogart when she was only 19. One wonders whether she would have left enough of said director for Bogie to even glare at.
I sometimes imagine what would happen to a director had he or she offered one of today's rinky-dink teeny-girl roles to Bacall, who started working opposite Humphrey Bogart when she was only 19. One wonders whether she would have left enough of said director for Bogie to even glare at.
Monday, August 11, 2014
Sunday, December 15, 2013
An Actor and a Movie Star
Among my least-favorite days would have been yesterday, as legendary actor Peter O'Toole passed away at the age of 81. That he was nominated for an Oscar eight times but never won says as much about the excellent quality of some of his competition in his early races, as well as the myopia of Academy voters during the latter ones.
The title of the post is a nod to his Oscar-nominated role as Alan Swann, the Errol-Flynn-esque swashbuckling actor appearing on a live TV show in the 1950s, in 1982's My Favorite Year. Confronted with the reality that the show is live, Swann panics -- he has not been before a live audience since he was a very young man and the idea terrifies him. "I'm not an actor!" he laments to Mark Linn-Baker's Benjy Stone. "I'm a movie star!"
He was, of course, among the best of both.
The title of the post is a nod to his Oscar-nominated role as Alan Swann, the Errol-Flynn-esque swashbuckling actor appearing on a live TV show in the 1950s, in 1982's My Favorite Year. Confronted with the reality that the show is live, Swann panics -- he has not been before a live audience since he was a very young man and the idea terrifies him. "I'm not an actor!" he laments to Mark Linn-Baker's Benjy Stone. "I'm a movie star!"
He was, of course, among the best of both.
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
No Effects Required
Digital effects have rendered the kind of stop-motion animation of which Ray Harryhausen was a master obsolete. Powerful software and creative artistry can blend fantastic imagery into the middle of an otherwise ordinary scene so well that only a frame-by-frame, pixel-by-pixel examination can tell the difference, and sometimes not even then.
But Harryhausen, whose death at 92 was announced today, came first. Without his willingness to try pretty much anything when it came to putting the wild, weird and way-out on screen, later special effects artists might not have tried the things they did, or developed the new technologies needed to do them.
And it's not hard to make a case that some of Harryhausen's best work exceeded some of the multi-million dollar spectacles of the last couple of decades. Compare The 7th Voyage of Sinbad to any of the Star Wars prequels, and it doesn't require much imagination to see how Harryhausen's eye and sensibility would have improved the latter. Because there's no way that he would have allowed a character like Jar-Jar Binks, and a Harryhausen stop-motion creation would have been a hundred times more lifelike than Hayden Christensen.
But Harryhausen, whose death at 92 was announced today, came first. Without his willingness to try pretty much anything when it came to putting the wild, weird and way-out on screen, later special effects artists might not have tried the things they did, or developed the new technologies needed to do them.
And it's not hard to make a case that some of Harryhausen's best work exceeded some of the multi-million dollar spectacles of the last couple of decades. Compare The 7th Voyage of Sinbad to any of the Star Wars prequels, and it doesn't require much imagination to see how Harryhausen's eye and sensibility would have improved the latter. Because there's no way that he would have allowed a character like Jar-Jar Binks, and a Harryhausen stop-motion creation would have been a hundred times more lifelike than Hayden Christensen.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Dial Up
Ever wonder why your phone keypad looks like it does, with the "1-2-3" at the top instead of at the bottom like a calculator?
You can thank John Karlin, an industrial psychologist who worked for Bell Labs in the middle of the last century. Karlin died late last month at 94.
The button arrangement is one of the many things that Karlin and his laboratory helped design that persists today even in our cell phones and the layout of the touch-screen "keys" on a smart phone. When Bell developed the technology to make pushbutton phones, they experimented with several designs in order to make them easier to use. Eventually, square buttons in a 3x3 grid, starting at the top left with "1," won out. It combined ease of use with dialing accuracy, an important selling point. Even though an accountant or bookkeeper might be able to dial quickly and accurately on a phone that was organized like an adding machine or calculator, most folks did better with it the other way round. So that's what Bell started making, adding the "0" at the bottom and later adding the "*" and "#" keys on either side of it. The latter, of course, is one of the things which makes Twitter so very much fun and such a useful tool for communicating complex ideas and information.
Karlin was also the fellow who got the phone company to switch from the combination of letter-number dialing to all-numeric. Phone numbers used to have two letters at the front that represented a word. Sometimes the word indicated where the phone with that number was, but not always. My own home number during my days as young Friar had originally been based on the letters FE a decade or so before I inherited it, which stood for "Federal" and gave no guidance at all as to its location.
But the two-letter combination limited the, er, number of numbers that could be created, so Karlin engineered a switch to the all numeric listings to expand the options. Apparently people hated the change, but like with so many things where the supplier has a legal monopoly, they were stuck with it.
The most fascinating part of Karlin's obituary is that Bell worked to design its technology to fit what people did or could do, rather than throw it at them and make them adapt to it. There are a lot of folks making devices, appliances, software, transportation and whatnot today who do nothing of the kind. They create something and then force people to adapt to it. Whether or not the change is a good idea or even necessary isn't a major factor in the design or the decision.
You don't have to be an industrial psychologist to understand that idea's a little cracked.
You can thank John Karlin, an industrial psychologist who worked for Bell Labs in the middle of the last century. Karlin died late last month at 94.
The button arrangement is one of the many things that Karlin and his laboratory helped design that persists today even in our cell phones and the layout of the touch-screen "keys" on a smart phone. When Bell developed the technology to make pushbutton phones, they experimented with several designs in order to make them easier to use. Eventually, square buttons in a 3x3 grid, starting at the top left with "1," won out. It combined ease of use with dialing accuracy, an important selling point. Even though an accountant or bookkeeper might be able to dial quickly and accurately on a phone that was organized like an adding machine or calculator, most folks did better with it the other way round. So that's what Bell started making, adding the "0" at the bottom and later adding the "*" and "#" keys on either side of it. The latter, of course, is one of the things which makes Twitter so very much fun and such a useful tool for communicating complex ideas and information.
Karlin was also the fellow who got the phone company to switch from the combination of letter-number dialing to all-numeric. Phone numbers used to have two letters at the front that represented a word. Sometimes the word indicated where the phone with that number was, but not always. My own home number during my days as young Friar had originally been based on the letters FE a decade or so before I inherited it, which stood for "Federal" and gave no guidance at all as to its location.
But the two-letter combination limited the, er, number of numbers that could be created, so Karlin engineered a switch to the all numeric listings to expand the options. Apparently people hated the change, but like with so many things where the supplier has a legal monopoly, they were stuck with it.
The most fascinating part of Karlin's obituary is that Bell worked to design its technology to fit what people did or could do, rather than throw it at them and make them adapt to it. There are a lot of folks making devices, appliances, software, transportation and whatnot today who do nothing of the kind. They create something and then force people to adapt to it. Whether or not the change is a good idea or even necessary isn't a major factor in the design or the decision.
You don't have to be an industrial psychologist to understand that idea's a little cracked.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
He Made Everything...Groovy
Reg Presley, lead singer for the 1960s garage band standouts The Troggs, passed away Tuesday from lung cancer at 71. The Troggs are, of course, best-known for their 1966 single "Wild Thing." They were the second band to release the song and Presley's alternately mumbled and howled vocals matched the basic three-chords-and-a-cloud-of-dust guitar crunch perfectly -- which is why no one remembers Jordan Christopher and the Wild Ones 1965 version of "Wild Thing."
For my money, the two best covers of "Wild Thing" were done by X and by the late comedian Sam Kinison. The X version got its fame in the 1989 movie Major League, although it was originally released as a single in 1984. It was the theme music whenever the erratic reliever Ricky Vaughn (Charlie Sheen), formerly of the California Penal League, was brought into the game. Philadelphia Phillies relief pitcher Mitch Williams later earned the "Wild Thing" nickname in real life. Billy Zoom's guitar line was a good deal more urgent than the original and X singer Exene Cervenka eschewed Presley's somewhat sleepy (or hung over) vibe, but the X version carries the strength of the song from the garage of the 1960s to the underground club of the 1980s just fine.
A year before Major League came out, Kinison reworked the song in a sort of novelty version, playing off his reputation for screaming rants. The accompanying video featured several well-known rock musicians and the then-famous Jessica Hahn, the church secretary whose affair with televangelist Jim Bakker brought down the latter's religious media empire. Kinison starts with the original lyrics but then inserts his howled rants against the woman of the title. He implies her wildness includes infidelity: "Every time I kiss you I taste what other men had for lunch;" cruelty: "The only thing that gets you off is to see me in pain;" and untruthfulness and false self-presentation: "Why didn't you tell me you were a demon from hell?" His over-the-top screed makes fun of the way folks who talk down their exes exaggerate awful qualities that seemingly appear out of nowhere.
Although fun in its own right, the 1988 single "Wild Thing" by rapper Tone Loc is unrelated to the Troggs hit except by title.
The best thing I read from among the online obituaries for Presley was this: "He is survived by Brenda, his wife of 49 years..." Reg, I think you knew for sure.
For my money, the two best covers of "Wild Thing" were done by X and by the late comedian Sam Kinison. The X version got its fame in the 1989 movie Major League, although it was originally released as a single in 1984. It was the theme music whenever the erratic reliever Ricky Vaughn (Charlie Sheen), formerly of the California Penal League, was brought into the game. Philadelphia Phillies relief pitcher Mitch Williams later earned the "Wild Thing" nickname in real life. Billy Zoom's guitar line was a good deal more urgent than the original and X singer Exene Cervenka eschewed Presley's somewhat sleepy (or hung over) vibe, but the X version carries the strength of the song from the garage of the 1960s to the underground club of the 1980s just fine.
A year before Major League came out, Kinison reworked the song in a sort of novelty version, playing off his reputation for screaming rants. The accompanying video featured several well-known rock musicians and the then-famous Jessica Hahn, the church secretary whose affair with televangelist Jim Bakker brought down the latter's religious media empire. Kinison starts with the original lyrics but then inserts his howled rants against the woman of the title. He implies her wildness includes infidelity: "Every time I kiss you I taste what other men had for lunch;" cruelty: "The only thing that gets you off is to see me in pain;" and untruthfulness and false self-presentation: "Why didn't you tell me you were a demon from hell?" His over-the-top screed makes fun of the way folks who talk down their exes exaggerate awful qualities that seemingly appear out of nowhere.
Although fun in its own right, the 1988 single "Wild Thing" by rapper Tone Loc is unrelated to the Troggs hit except by title.
The best thing I read from among the online obituaries for Presley was this: "He is survived by Brenda, his wife of 49 years..." Reg, I think you knew for sure.
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Exit, Grinning...
With the death of Larry Hagman, television loses one of its best villains ever. And I mean ever. The scariest sight on television was not some Sopranos thug or Dexter psycho or Game of Thrones inbred deviant. It was J.R. Ewing flashing his pearly whites in your direction, uttering the words, "Have I got a deal for you." The "Who shot J.R.?" cliffhanger at the end of season two of Dallas was a TV event unlike any other and while the near-fatal wound tamed the venomous one for a season, he was back in form before very long.
I've no idea of Hagman's personal religious beliefs, but I am willing to bet that if there is a personification of evil such as the being some name Satan, Hagman's might be the only soul he doesn't want to capture. After all, if you give J.R. Ewing enough time, he'll find a way to get the better of you. And eternity is plenty of time.
I've no idea of Hagman's personal religious beliefs, but I am willing to bet that if there is a personification of evil such as the being some name Satan, Hagman's might be the only soul he doesn't want to capture. After all, if you give J.R. Ewing enough time, he'll find a way to get the better of you. And eternity is plenty of time.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
I Can't Think of a Better Way to Pass the Time o' Day...
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Four Strings and a Whole Lotta Funky Soul
Donald "Duck" Dunn, a bass player on the legendary Stax/Volt soul music label in the 1960s and the man who advocated a new, music-based biofuel process in The Blues Brothers, passed away Sunday morning after a pair of shows in Tokyo.
Dunn was a part of Booker T. and the MGs, who had some hits of their own and who backed up most of the Stax/Volt singers at one time or another during that label's prime years in the mid and late 1960s. In 1978, he first played behind "Joliet" Jake Blues (John Belushi) and his brother Elwood (Dan Aykroyd) in the "Blues Brothers" sketch on Saturday Night Live (Again, for younger readers, SNL was a late-night television show that featured comedy sketches, musical routines and wide-ranging satire. It is related to today's similarly-titled show in name only). That role would be continued in the 1980 movie. Some people suggest that in 1998, a "sequel" to The Blues Brothers, called Blues Brothers 2000, was filmed, but such a saying is utter blasphemy and beneath contempt.
Following his stint with the brothers, Dunn continued to perform regularly on albums and onstage until his passing.
Dunn was a part of Booker T. and the MGs, who had some hits of their own and who backed up most of the Stax/Volt singers at one time or another during that label's prime years in the mid and late 1960s. In 1978, he first played behind "Joliet" Jake Blues (John Belushi) and his brother Elwood (Dan Aykroyd) in the "Blues Brothers" sketch on Saturday Night Live (Again, for younger readers, SNL was a late-night television show that featured comedy sketches, musical routines and wide-ranging satire. It is related to today's similarly-titled show in name only). That role would be continued in the 1980 movie. Some people suggest that in 1998, a "sequel" to The Blues Brothers, called Blues Brothers 2000, was filmed, but such a saying is utter blasphemy and beneath contempt.
Following his stint with the brothers, Dunn continued to perform regularly on albums and onstage until his passing.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
A Stellar Vision
Ralph McQuarrie, a concept artist who designed many of the spaceships, settings and buildings seen in the first three Star Wars movies, passed away today at 82.
You can see some of his Star Wars artwork here, and note how many of these visualizations made it into the movies. Many of the critters he drew didn't, of course, because special effects technology hadn't yet caught up to Mr. McQuarrie's vision. Of course, by the time technology had caught up to that vision and we had the prequel trilogy, we found out that George Lucas didn't have the vision to match his technology.
You can see some of his Star Wars artwork here, and note how many of these visualizations made it into the movies. Many of the critters he drew didn't, of course, because special effects technology hadn't yet caught up to Mr. McQuarrie's vision. Of course, by the time technology had caught up to that vision and we had the prequel trilogy, we found out that George Lucas didn't have the vision to match his technology.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Past Tense Unfortunately Intentional
If there was a drier wit on the New York Police Department than Detective Sgt. Arthur Dietrich, then the Holland Tunnel would have been unnecessary. Steve Landesberg, the actor who played Dietrich on the 1970s police comedy Barney Miller, as well as a host of other small roles during a long career that also included some stand-up comedy, passed away this weekend at 65.
Only the first three seasons of Barney Miller are available on DVD, and Landesberg joined the cast midway through that season. Some of his best deadpans await release, and the show's inexplicable absence from cable means YouTube will get a little workout over the next few days as 12th Precinct fans take some time to remember.
(The post title is taken from Dietrich's query of Barney after meeting the latter's spouse, and his somewhat perturbing penchant for exact speaking).
Only the first three seasons of Barney Miller are available on DVD, and Landesberg joined the cast midway through that season. Some of his best deadpans await release, and the show's inexplicable absence from cable means YouTube will get a little workout over the next few days as 12th Precinct fans take some time to remember.
(The post title is taken from Dietrich's query of Barney after meeting the latter's spouse, and his somewhat perturbing penchant for exact speaking).
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Eternal June
Although she was probably far too much of a nice lady to have ever done this, I always wanted Barbara Billingsley to show up when someone complained about the ridiculousness of her cleaning her house, cooking, etc., in heels and pearls. I thought she could grab that person's collar, yank him or her in close and say, "I cleaned in heels and pearls because I am that...darn...good. Punk."
Ms. Billingsley is now a part of the place where there are no reruns, passing away at 94. My favorite role she played was "Jive Lady," in the 1980 comedy Airplane!. While it took the comedic genius of the Zucker-Abrahams crew to suggest that June Cleaver "spoke jive," Ms. Billingsley herself made the laugh one of the movie's best just by being her and speaking the words, "Jus' hang loose, blood," and by using the phrase "jive-ass dude."
Ms. Billingsley is now a part of the place where there are no reruns, passing away at 94. My favorite role she played was "Jive Lady," in the 1980 comedy Airplane!. While it took the comedic genius of the Zucker-Abrahams crew to suggest that June Cleaver "spoke jive," Ms. Billingsley herself made the laugh one of the movie's best just by being her and speaking the words, "Jus' hang loose, blood," and by using the phrase "jive-ass dude."
Friday, October 1, 2010
The Last Page From the Typewriter...
You can still leave a message at the tone, but unfortunately no one will be getting back to you, as Rockford Files, A-Team, Wiseguy and 21 Jump Street (among others) creator Stephen J. Cannell passed away at 69.
Cannell dealt with dyslexia through school but overcame it to write literally hundreds of television episodes and 17 thriller novels. Shows he produced would end with a scene of Cannell writing, finishing a script with a flourish as he plucked the page from the typewriter and flipped it into the air, where it faded into the logo of his company -- a stylized "C" made by pages curling up from a ream of paper.
His influence on television ran from selling a story idea to Mission: Impossible in 1966 to helping shepherd the careers of people like The Sopranos creator David Chase. Even though he created absolute gems like Rockford, he could also throw some serious schlock on the screen, like Riptide and the Lorenzo Lamas vehicle Renegade (in which he also acted), but such is television. Cannell had a shelf of awards, but I suspect that were he to have been asked, he might tag his 46-year marriage, three children and three grandchildren as one of his prouder achievements (a fourth child preceded him in death).
Cannell dealt with dyslexia through school but overcame it to write literally hundreds of television episodes and 17 thriller novels. Shows he produced would end with a scene of Cannell writing, finishing a script with a flourish as he plucked the page from the typewriter and flipped it into the air, where it faded into the logo of his company -- a stylized "C" made by pages curling up from a ream of paper.
His influence on television ran from selling a story idea to Mission: Impossible in 1966 to helping shepherd the careers of people like The Sopranos creator David Chase. Even though he created absolute gems like Rockford, he could also throw some serious schlock on the screen, like Riptide and the Lorenzo Lamas vehicle Renegade (in which he also acted), but such is television. Cannell had a shelf of awards, but I suspect that were he to have been asked, he might tag his 46-year marriage, three children and three grandchildren as one of his prouder achievements (a fourth child preceded him in death).
Monday, September 20, 2010
What Song Is It You Wanna Hear?
One wonders at just exactly what kind of reunion took place when Jacksonville, Fla. gym teacher Leonard Skinner arrived at the Pearly Gates and met there at least one of his former students.
Skinner earned his place in rock and roll history when he sent Robert E. Lee High School student Gary Rossington to the principal's office for his refusal to cut his long hair in the mid-1960s. Although Rossington was far from the only boy so chastised, he and some similarly harassed friends were among those who would form a band that, in 1970, they named Lynyrd Skynyrd in mocking recognition of their former teacher. Skynyrd is known as one of the originators of a combination of blues, rock, soul and more than a little country boogie that's often called "southern rock," and created the classic rock radio staples "Sweet Home Alabama," "Gimme Three Steps," "Saturday Night Special," "That Smell" and a few others. One of them is, of course, the epic "Free Bird," the live version of which features a crowd responding to Van Zant's question -- the title of this post -- with one voice as they all shout, "'Free Bird!'"
As often happens as people age, the dispute between Skinner and his former students mellowed. He introduced one of the later versions of the band at a Jacksonville concert and made certain to use his name prominently on bars he owned after he quit teaching. The Augusta Chronicle story points out that the original hair policy which Skinner enforced banned hair that touched shirt collars. Heaven only knows what he would have had to have done if the mid-70s version of the band, with shoulder-length hair and chest-length beards, had appeared in his class. He first learned of the connection when his son -- also named Leonard Skinner -- was playing one of the band's albums, and a relative heard them explain their name during a radio show. The elder Skinner didn't much like the album and actually never cared much for rock and roll music at all, apparently.
The thing that strikes me as a little interesting is that Skinner was born in 1933. He was barely 30 years old when he was attempting to correct Rossington and his classmates' sartorial deficiencies, even though they probably thought of him as some kind of ancient, out-of-touch relic. Had Ronnie Van Zant not died in a 1977 plane crash, he would be 62 and probably finding a lot more in common with his former teacher than differences.
Skinner earned his place in rock and roll history when he sent Robert E. Lee High School student Gary Rossington to the principal's office for his refusal to cut his long hair in the mid-1960s. Although Rossington was far from the only boy so chastised, he and some similarly harassed friends were among those who would form a band that, in 1970, they named Lynyrd Skynyrd in mocking recognition of their former teacher. Skynyrd is known as one of the originators of a combination of blues, rock, soul and more than a little country boogie that's often called "southern rock," and created the classic rock radio staples "Sweet Home Alabama," "Gimme Three Steps," "Saturday Night Special," "That Smell" and a few others. One of them is, of course, the epic "Free Bird," the live version of which features a crowd responding to Van Zant's question -- the title of this post -- with one voice as they all shout, "'Free Bird!'"
As often happens as people age, the dispute between Skinner and his former students mellowed. He introduced one of the later versions of the band at a Jacksonville concert and made certain to use his name prominently on bars he owned after he quit teaching. The Augusta Chronicle story points out that the original hair policy which Skinner enforced banned hair that touched shirt collars. Heaven only knows what he would have had to have done if the mid-70s version of the band, with shoulder-length hair and chest-length beards, had appeared in his class. He first learned of the connection when his son -- also named Leonard Skinner -- was playing one of the band's albums, and a relative heard them explain their name during a radio show. The elder Skinner didn't much like the album and actually never cared much for rock and roll music at all, apparently.
The thing that strikes me as a little interesting is that Skinner was born in 1933. He was barely 30 years old when he was attempting to correct Rossington and his classmates' sartorial deficiencies, even though they probably thought of him as some kind of ancient, out-of-touch relic. Had Ronnie Van Zant not died in a 1977 plane crash, he would be 62 and probably finding a lot more in common with his former teacher than differences.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Like Him or Not...
Either way, George Steinbrenner had a huge impact on modern sport, not just baseball. You could argue that the whole LeBron James-Cleveland-Miami fracas traces back to his actions. Charlie Finley may have been one of the first owners to start spending big money on free agents, but Steinbrenner perfected the method: Offer the best players the most money, as having the best players on your team represents the best chances for winning ballgames and titles. Reward success, replace continued failure with new blood.
Not everybody liked Steinbrenner. Not everybody likes the Yankees (hand raised). Not everybody liked this method. And because it wasn't foolproof, it offered enough chances for failure to let those who disliked the method, the owner or the team plenty of chances for schadenfreude parties.
But Steinbrenner also had a feel for what made the game of baseball appealing and could demonstrate it, as this post by a National Review writer illustrates.
Then there's this story by the Associated Press, which seems more than a little ghoulish, hanging as it does on Steinbrenner's death during a year in which the lack of a federal estate tax means his heirs will keep quite a bit more of his bequests to them than they would have if he had died in 2011. But I've got a feeling that Steinbrenner himself would get quite a bit of a kick over the idea that he got one over on the feds, especially when it came to taxes.
The only question now, I guess, is how he and Billy Martin greeted one another in the afterlife. Some of the words they used to refer to each other are probably not welcome in their new neighborhood.
Not everybody liked Steinbrenner. Not everybody likes the Yankees (hand raised). Not everybody liked this method. And because it wasn't foolproof, it offered enough chances for failure to let those who disliked the method, the owner or the team plenty of chances for schadenfreude parties.
But Steinbrenner also had a feel for what made the game of baseball appealing and could demonstrate it, as this post by a National Review writer illustrates.
Then there's this story by the Associated Press, which seems more than a little ghoulish, hanging as it does on Steinbrenner's death during a year in which the lack of a federal estate tax means his heirs will keep quite a bit more of his bequests to them than they would have if he had died in 2011. But I've got a feeling that Steinbrenner himself would get quite a bit of a kick over the idea that he got one over on the feds, especially when it came to taxes.
The only question now, I guess, is how he and Billy Martin greeted one another in the afterlife. Some of the words they used to refer to each other are probably not welcome in their new neighborhood.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
So St. Peter Rubs His Eyes and Says...
"Gary Coleman and Dennis Hopper? Somebody must have a really...interesting...script in the works around here."
And I'm sure I'm not the only one who's surprised that of the three very troubled young people who starred on Diff'rent Strokes, Todd Bridges is the one still living.
(Coleman and Hopper were actually cast in the same movie once, 2008's An American Carol.)
And I'm sure I'm not the only one who's surprised that of the three very troubled young people who starred on Diff'rent Strokes, Todd Bridges is the one still living.
(Coleman and Hopper were actually cast in the same movie once, 2008's An American Carol.)
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