OSCARS SMOSHCERS-- --WHO CARES?

When the Oscars followed the NCAA final tournament game, it made for one long and exciting weekend, plus a Monday night later even than Monday Night Football.
But that was in the day of good movies and actors, and yes, we even called the females actresses back then.

As for this year's choices, I could care less (or is it, couldn't care less--I never did get that straight)? While I hate to judge this year's favorites, because I haven't seen any of them, I have seen clips and read reviews and have heard some of the actors interviewed, and as I said, who cares?

One thing that has soured me on watching the oscars or the movies for that matter is the political views and forums the stars choose in discussing their beliefs. I'm not interested in their politics. I think I know their leanings anyway. But when they use their acceptance speeches to denigrate the President of the country, I really find that as distasteful as a michael moore movie or an al gore blasting Mr. Bush when al gore, the self-proclaimed internet inventor, is in a foreign country. Can you say Hanoi al?

I even hit on a John Stewart web site this morning that gave 10 reasons why to watch the oscars. Music, set, carpet walk, and who Jennifer Aniston showed up with were the top 4. I think I'll pass.

If I haven't convinced you not to watch, then go ahead. But when you lose IQ points for tuning in, don't blame me. I'll be working on the draft for my rotisserie baseball league team.

THE NUMBERS GAME

I bought a lottery ticket. Once. The very first week that Illinois had a lottery. I didn't win. Another time at a Sweet Corn and Watermelon Festival Dinner, all the attendees were given five hundred numbers as part of the package. About 125 of us were all going to split the winnings. We didn't even get four numbers. Out of 500.

So never again. I really don't care much for any kind of gambling, because well, it's gambling. I guess I just feel money is too hard to make to throw it around on chance.

It worked for Hurley, though. It works for the casino people, too. The owners, I mean, not most of the participants. Some must win because of all the play. Also, Las Vegas and Atlantic City certainly aren't slowing down either.

State lotteries are exploding. There are so many games now that I wouldn't begin to know what or how to play. But you know there are a lot of people out there who love Lost, and they're selecting Hurley's numbers. And some day, they'll show up. Someday. Sometime. Somewhere.

THE IDOL PART II

A disclaimer: I don't love Kellie Pickler. But I wasn't techy enough to delete one of four buttons, or two of eight since I wasn't even techy enough to get only one set of Picker buttons on my blog.

I think I know which one she is, though. Paula Abdul actually called her cute, so she must be no threat to Paula who never seems to like the better looking females, but swoons over all the guys. Any way(s), Kellie's not gonna win.

Are Randy and Paula joined at the hip? Why can they never disagree? Why do they need three judges since these two are clones? And Simon. Well, he seems to me to be the only voice of reason on the show. Except for last night when Ryan showed a picture of Chicken Little next to this year's geek. Now that was funny. Mercifully I missed his rendition of the grapevine song (hated by me as I wrote in an earlier blog.) See, that's why I tune into The Idol: I can watch some good tv (the Phoenix Suns) and switch over at time outs and catch other shows. I probably caught 7 of the ten singers/vocalists/warblers/wannabes and plenty of the Suns. I even caught most of the first half of Lost, primarily because of halftime in the Suns game. Why only guys can watch tv this way, I'll never know. I've even watched three movies at the same time. Without picture/picture which I've never mastered technologically.

So who are my favorites? The front runners. Sorry Ms. Picker. How could an American Idol carry that name anyhow? Lisa and the Mahalia Jackson gal. And Ace and the Bruce Willis with creative facial hair guy. See, I don't watch it enough to know all their names.

But I hope the geek and the smart mouth Black chick are shown the door tonite.

THE VAN TRIP(PS) IN AUSTRIA

In Salzburg, Austria, last summer we were limited on time so we took a van tour around the city.

Like Savannah, Georgia, thrives on the movie
Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, Salzburg hypes The Sound of Music unabashedly. "Here's where Maria and the children were dancing atop this beautiful fresco." Another time our guide gushed, "The backside of this castle was the backside of the Von Trapp house." We seemed to be paying more attention to two beautiful swans next to the shoreline and almost within reach. As I stood next to one, she looked up at me as if to ask for food and when receiving none left me for another. Actually 3 others. Baby swans with hair before feathers. Is that what down is? Anyhow, they were fun to watch with that backdrop.

Actually, we like The Sound of Music and would have taken the 4-hour tour but our schedule wouldn't allow. We didn't even get to see any edelweiss. But I hear it's hard to find even in the land where "the hills are alive."

Our van ride continued as the Alps seemed to get taller and taller. Obscured by clouds now and then, mountain tops would break through and we could see fresh snow. Mostly shrouded in clouds, hitler's Eagles Nest was pointed out by Irene, our guide. He couldn't have seen much on this day, but maybe it was days like this when he didn't want to be seen, when his conscience got the best of him. Oh, now, we were in the land of The Sound of Music, so I could be a little dreamy.

After lunch half way up a funicular or tram or cogwheel that soared up the mountains, we rode the rest of the way to a very cold top. Great views when clouds rolled past were a highlight as well as some sheep and hikers.

After our ride down, a 15-minute walk on cobblestones led us to our hotel, the Goldener Hirsh where we left for the train station for a ride to Innsbruck. I awaited some great sleep time.

WHAT'S SCARIER?

Of all the characters in Stephen King's novels, the scariest to me is Pennywise the clown. What's a scarier picture than Boris Karlof, the master of fright, in a clown suit?

I don't know if my aversion to clowns came from Kox Kiddie Kollege or Alfred Hitchcock. But I don't like them. Never did.

As a four year old, I lived just around the corner from a pre-school called Kox Kiddie Kollege. My school district, West Salem, had no kindergarten back then, so I went to the pre-school. Fittingly, both of our children also went to Kox Kiddie Kollege.

My first girlfriend was Ida Sue Lund. My first fight was over her. Benny Kaelin also was enamored with her five year old charms. So we duked it out, right there. I don't think either of us got too bloody over it, but somehow I don't remember Ida Sue falling for either of us. So where's the clown come in?

Halloween was celebrated early and often back then in the Midwest in a small town. I remember one year our first trick-or-treater appeared on our doorstep on October 6. So when trick-or-treat came early that year, our classmates showed up in their costumes before we wore them to school to guess who was under those garments. While I didn't hit the neighborhood for early treats, I dragged out my lion's costume to show the others how neat it was, complete with tail. When it came time to guess the identities, most had already seen all the other's costumes. Except for Benny's clown costume.

Stoically, he stood, silently never giving us a clue. I tried to remember who was left. I drew a blank. I started thinking, "Hey, this kid's not in our class. He's scary."

Finally, someone remembered Benny, and the game was up. I hope it wasn't Ida Sue who missed him and figured it out, but I can't remember.

Move ahead about 4 years. I'm watching The Alfred Hitchcock Theater on tv. In the Old West, a guy and his ventriloquist dummy are traveling around in an old stage coach. They perform shows in various towns. Come to find out, the dummy is the big guy, who you thought was human, and the one you thought was the dummy was a midget. Deception. Sleight of hand. And it freaked me out. So while he wasn't quite a clown, he was made up with those marks from his lips to his chin so he could move his mouth. Scary to a nine year old who liked things to be what they appeared to be.

Now if Boris were only a midget in that clown outfit.

ONE WAS NEVER ENOUGH

Ok, so Don Knotts never starred in Eight is Enough. He was in Three's Company and a spin off and, of course the timeless Andy Griffith Show. He starred in The Apple Dumpling Game and a score of other movies. And he was great.

I was saddened when when he passed away on Friday. Like former Mt. Vernon High Superintendent, J. D. Shields, I thought Don Knotts might be immortal. Not that he and J.D. were similar, they just seemed ensconced.

Like Red Skelton, Don Knotts never had to resort to off color jokes or innuendos which saturate prime time tv these days. Movies, too. And don't forget, he remained that way in all his movies, too. But what else would you expect from true talent and true class.

Mayberry North Carolina may not have existed. But it, too, is immortal. Thanks to Don and Andy and Opie and Aunt Bee and Floyd and Gomer and Goober and Thelma Lou.

BLUEBERRY PANCAKES AND PEKING DUCK

I have to be one of the easiest guys in the world to satisfy. At least food-wise. Unless you want to serve me carmelized onions, I could dine with you. When the question of "What do you want for supper?" comes up, I'm very accommodating. You see, I like darn near everything. Who else likes anchovies? And anchovy pizzas? No other ingredients necessary.

One thing, though, I'm still recovering from is true Chinese food. When we were in Japan, Korea, and China in 1996, I had my fill of real Chinese. Also real Japanese and Korean food though I could probably go for some good kimchi.

Our last leg of our trip was in beautiful Hong Kong where a fellow traveler, Don Turner saved me from a state of famishment. Not that I would have sold my birthright like Esau (hey I'm the baby anyhow), but I was one hungry pup when we arrived there. Our Mandarin Hotel made the best blueberry pancakes, so I got one great meal daily. An inquisitive Mr. Turner found a restaurant touted as serving the best Peking Duck in the city. We dined there and I gorged myself.

It's funny how you remember certain meals and associate them with certain cities. Mike Shannon's steaks are the best in St. Lou, while in Scottsdale it's a toss up between Morton's and the Grill at the TPC. But if I'm ever in Hong Kong again, I know I could find that restaurant again.