Gold Rush

The summer Olys are back. With all the usual suspects. Danny Boyle who
directed films,Slumdog Millionaire, and Trainspotting among others is orchestrating the opening ceremony from London. Find it hard to believe that anything will ever dazzle and push the envelope the way Chinese did when they hosted. If you missed that spectacle, you missed the wedding, my friends. Adam Gopnik wrote a piece in the New Yorker about nationalism and the Olys. Uh, yeah, but some of us watch for other reasons than the red white and blue medal count. We watch for those moments of great drama and human courage that push mental and physical stress over the edge and into some other unimaginable stratosphere. There are extraordinary stories of performance victories, but greater gut wrenching downloads in defeat. Names erupt from other countries, and you never forget them: the great and ageless Kip Keino. Michael Gross 'the Albatross' a German swimmer with a 7'4" wing span. Vasily Alekseyev the strong man from the former USSR. The great Tamara Press who medaled back to back in the shot put. And the diminutive Olga Korbut and Nadia Comaneci, of the perfect 10, both of whom set the gymnastic world on fire. Four years is a long time between drinks. Dust off the recorder, and set em up. One of the greatest shows on earth is about to roll across your screen.

Pulling the Pin

Uh, if you don't know the meaning of the title, google that baby. Woke up today and finally cracked. I've been craving potato chips for a couple of weeks now, and just bought a bag. Mmm. Never eat these, but you only live once. Lapsed Catholics always fall hard, but judiciously. Eat half the bag, spare the whole.

1. The Boy Scouts. My bro was a cubbie. One of my best childhood friends was the highest ranking eagle scout in the USA. Now, filled with conservative Mormies, and Cat'olics, the Scouts have be-
come a prehistoric org that is living in denial. Scared that homos
might disrupt tying knots, or striking flints in the wilderness, the scouts 'ixnayed' gays. That's right. Ixnay. Pig latin for a bunch of pigs.

2. Frank Ocean. In the world of xtreme machismo rappers,
Frank Ocean came out on Independence Day and declared his love (1st love) for another man on his blog. The revelation blistered the media and scorched hip-hop city. While not everyone, some chose silence (Ocean did receive death threats) was showing him the love, droves of his contemporaries including 50 Cent, and Jay-Z shouted out their support.  Frank Ocean, dog, from the other 'city' by the bay, props to you my man.

3. Katie Holmes. Pulled the pin. And chose the RSCJ's, Religious of the Sacred Heart, to educate her daughter. A smile crossed my lips when I read the blurb. My collegiate years were spent frolicking on the west coast campus of the afore mentioned 'madames (the order hated the nick-name). The RSCJ's were/are the Jesuits of the nunnery. Once a convent girl, always a convent girl. DNA runs deep. Ask Gaga, or one of the Kennedy girls. Or me. You can take the girl out of the school, but you can't take the school out of... Nice choice, Katie.

...'Just to ride the Ponies'...

1. Some traditions never change. You just don't mess with collective conditioning. As certain as bluebirds fly above the rainbow...every December somewhere in this country, 'A Wonderful Life' glows off thousands of telly's; just as on every 4th of July, 'Yankee Doodle Dandy'
beams the story of Georgie Cohen into hundreds of living rooms across wheat filled plains and congested city scapes. I'm 12, in my pj's, watching the old black and white Admiral when scampering across the 14' tube comes a guy singing and dancing Yankee Doodle in verses I'd never
heard before. And then he does the impossible. He dances up the vertical sides of the stage. I looked for wires. I looked for magic. I looked at me. How did he do that? CGI was 70 years off. The mystery was in the man, James Cagney. And he hoofed it, in black and white my friends, because he could.

2. Fireworks are in the DNA. Asians wave punks before they can sharpen
pencils. I dissected my first firecrackers, leaving a trail of gunpowder to a tin can, long before I dissected a frog in biology. It's all about luck, baby. You fire up those strings of crackers to boot the 'bad' away from residences; no one wants misfortune to hover over their abode. But we never had those lofty thoughts as we blew things off hinges, or sky high into the night. It was the pyrotechnics: the dazzling spangled light, the constant din of ka-booms, near and far, and the night air filling with a glowing claustrophobic haze that you never forgot and will always remember.

3. Amelia Earhart. They're looking for you again. I like the original image
that you left us with. Flying off into the deep blue...the stuff of legends.

Around the Horn

1. The 'glug, glug,' sound that was heard soon after the Supremes rendered
their verdict for Obama care was the not-so-good Repub presidential ship, all candidates ahoy (!), sinking like a stone, on November's political waters; not even the Hollywood mouse can save that baby as it plummets toward Davy Jones' locker.

2. Rupert Murdoch bought it from Castle &Cooke. Larry Ellison bought it from Murdoch. The island of Lanai, the former pineapple realm, with it's 3,200 residents was sold lock and barrel last week to a guy who needs an island like he needs another nickel. There is only one economy on Lanai: tourism. Murdoch alledgedly lost 20-30 million a year.  Can Ellison improve the infrastructure and bring stability to the anxious working class residents? Only if he thinks outside the box.

3. Nora Ephron. The only movies I ever saw that she directed or wrote were 'Julie and Julia,' and  'Silkwood.' The rest fell under 'chick flicks' and I passed them by. I read Ephron's 'Heartburn,' but never indulged in her blog. Who out there believed her when she publicaly named FBI agent,
Mark Felt as 'deepthroat?' Not me. But she was right. NPR as they often do, broadcast several interviews with Ephron. They were witty and charming and filled me with regret; how could I not have recognized skill and finesse? Nora Ephron. She said in 2009, that she was not looking ahead 10 years, but only thinking of today. And today meant carbs. The best bread in the history of civilization was being baked right now. Today was the moment. Tomorrow, Norah, I'm eating a donut in your memory.

Double dog Dares...

1. As a kid in parochial school, whenever the circus came to town, the nuns appropriating a stack of freebies escorted all the classes to an afternoon under the big top, which was frequently housed in a civic auditorium and not in some dusty field (which is always somehow) nostalgically depicted by H'wood film. Security wasn't very good because in those days you could wander from floor to floor (if you were a sharp kid) and one year my brother and I found ourselves in a remote hallway lined with the big cat cages; tigers, and lions paced lazily behind their bars as we ran gleefully past. I loved the trapeze acts, and was mesmerized as the chalk flew off the upside down catcher's hands. But the greatest act that ever held a spotlight under the Ringling Brothers and Barnum and Bailey circus top, was the Flying Wallendas. All eyes were riveted on the family members as they delivered the 7 chair pyramid, the crown jewel of their act, on the high wire, with no safety net beneath them! I could barely breathe as they crossed overhead. That memory still ranks as the pinnacle, the mother, of all high wire acts. Nik Wallenda's walk across Niagara Falls, last week, was as daring as one of his grandfather's, Karl, visions; he may indeed have one upped the pater familia. But, I couldn't help thinking as I watched Nik cross through the falls mist, that if Karl were still alive he would have thrown down the double dog dare.

2. The Pope. Vatican fantasy in hand, crushed the Leadership Conference of Women Religious, which represent most American nuns, stating that the US nuns defy not only conservative doctrines, but by their actions, the powerful Bishops too. Benedict wants the nuns to stop all political activity. And fall in. Uh, the time for the veil and the habits are gone, baby, gone. These are not your 'fathers' nuns.

3. Big day coming for El Presidente. The Supreme Court rendering verdict on the constitutionality of the Affordable Care Act. Stay tuned.

I'll have another and another...

When I was a lowly minion toiling away, sanding shelves, raising them onto metal brackets, hands encased in a sturdy pair of leather gloves, rubber hammer at my side, music blaring like cool waves through the cavernous warehouse which would become in future years a storage facility housing low circulation books from the great collections of the UC Northern campuses, I learned an invaluable life alerting lesson. The crew was a strange, eclectic, group. Some white collars who were tired of the
suits. A handful of high school grads who were on their first real gig. Some laid off dudes who had nicknames like 'Snake eyes,' and 'Red' who thought nothing of driving to LA for a 48 hour binge, wheeling back in time for the Monday shift stinking of alcohol and ready to bed down at the first opp
in the dark cold empty stacks. The place was filled with misfits. 'Snake eyes' was a pleasant enough fellow, and it was ol 'Snake eyes' who gave me my nickname, 'Lil Bit.'

It was during this strangely exhilarating grunt time (we were all free of admin responsibilities) that a guy named Donnie taught me how to read the Daily Racing Form. Golden Gate Fields was a heart beat away, and everyday coming and going to work I passed the racetrack. It was a glowing mystifying beacon. I had been to the races once, and  I wanted to know more. So Donnie, my work partner, taught me how to make sense of the figs. How to read between the lines.  How to choose a horse. Picking winners came later.

This Saturday, at the 144th running of the Belmont stakes in New York, a chestnut colt, 'I'll have Another' will attempt to win the triple crown of racing. It's been 34 years since the last horse, Affirmed swept the crown (Kentucky Derby, the Preakness, and the Belmont). No horse from Cali
has ever won. If young Mario Gutierrez wins aboard IAH he will become the first Mexican jockey to do so. How hard is it? It is so hard that only 11 horses have won the crown. There is a saying: it takes luck to win the Derby; speed to win the Preakness, and a race horse to win the Belmont. The racing gods are a prickly lot. I hope they let us all have a glimpse of thoroughbred greatness.

'Someday I'm going to make her mine, oh yeah...'

The Brits are going to be partying like well, 1994, this weekend, and letting it all hang out. There will be fireworks, parades through the streets of London, a grand flotilla down the Thames the likes of which hasn't been seen since Sir Frances Drake eviscerated the Armada, the royal Corgis, the Epsom Derby which opens up the festival of events, Sir Elton, Sir Paul, Annie, and every royal that can walk.  This and much more for HRM Elizabeth Alexandra Mary, Head of the United Kingdom and the Commonwealth etc. etc. who will be celebrating her diamond jubilee.

Just 25, Elizabeth displaying brilliance and savvy, lifted the aura of royal pomp and privacy and allowed her coronation to be televised throughout the British Isles. If the love affair didn't start then, it likely began when Elizabeth turned 21 and declared in a broadcast that 'her life, long or short, shall be devoted to your service...'

In her 60 years, HRM has survived 12 Prime Ministers beginning with Winston. She opens Parliament every year, and meets on a regular basis with the PM. She has navigated her way through a world of men, and involved and devoted herself to over 600 charities.

It is difficult for us to wrap our renegade minds around the concept of Queen and country, but, to capture a thumbnail, I always circle back to the blitz, when the Luftwaffe bombed the shit out of London for 57 straight days, and the photos of George the VI and the Queen Mother (they refused to leave Buckingham which was also bombed) walking through the devastation, the rubble, the dazed population everyday. And I kinda get a glimpse of that love affair.

The Kings of England killed for sons. The Queens of England, Elizabeth
and Victoria had Ages named after them.

QEII has never given an interview. But, my friends, during her 60 year reign that doesn't mean she  didn't have a lot to say. Bring on the flotilla.