KEIFER AND CASINO ROYALE

Why I'm blogging on Saturday night and not watching a James Bond movie with my wife is simple: I couldn't stay awake. Now when I sacked out on Red October before the opening scene finished, that's understandable. I mean it was pretty slow. But going to sleep on Bond, actually about 4 times in the first hour, tells me what wrong with the hit tv series 24.

How in the world do those people stay up for that length of time? Granted there's never a dull moment, well a few, but overall, action/action/action. Character changes occur so cataclysmic that you forget at the start of the show Morris was crazy about Chloe, gave the terrorists the tech for dropping the bomb, got drunk, returned to CTU, was suspended, then was instrumental in helping one crisis, and then dissed Chloe. And all that in 22 hours without a nap.

24 is definitely one of those shows that I don't miss. But why does it all have to happen in one day? Maybe next year they should change it to 31 and have all that action take place in one month. That would be rushing it, but at least Jack Bauer would get to sleep.

THE PUMP HOUSE MONSTER

"Mom, Dad just ate monster!"

My grandson Grant excitedly told his mother.

The rest of the table laughed heartily.

Grant's father had just finished off lobster, not monster, on a Hawaiian cruise when Grant was three. So when his dad had ordered lobster, Grant misunderstood. He must have waited in such anticipation! Because of sea sickness and/or pregnancy, his mother had not come to the table for dinner until later.

"Oh, he did?" she played along, and got the real scoop about her husband's entree.

Like a lot of minunderstandings, I think Yeti, Sasquatch, Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster are just that---misunderstandings.

Now the Pump House Monster in MTV must have been the real thing. I mean there were eyewitnesses and everything. Oh, yeah, there usually are. But lots of these sighters were teens. Who had maybe been drinking.

And it was a good place to take girls. They would never go there alone, but with just the right guy, they might park the car for quite a while to watch and wait for the Pump House Monster. In an earlier age it was called snipe hunting. But snipe never scared people like a monster would.

Also, the Pump House Monster was never found. That means he may still be out there. And those have always been the best kinds.

I THINK THAT I SHOULD NEVER SEE A FALL AS LOVILY AS THESE

Ok, the syntax may be wrong, but you get the gist. Water falls are amazing. I've never been to Niagara. This Winter we missed the tour that went to Iguasu Falls in Brazil. But I've seen others.

My daughter-in-law Julie and I went on a water fall excursion in Hawaii. We weren't disappointed. The largest one we saw had a 50 foot drop if I remember. It was so relaxing.

In Chile this Winter we saw some large falls that were very impressive--the Petrovue Falls. They ran into rapids and with the glacial water color, they were beautiful. Our tour guide told us that some rafters tackle the falls, and they didn't fall all that much. But there were 4 or 5 and I don't see how you could control which one you were going to descend. Big, big rock formations cut into the falls making so many. I know I wasn't tempted.

Other small water falls in the mountains of Israel, Canada, Michigan, and Alaska are a few more places I remember them. And I liked them all.

The only falls I don't like are the ones on a noise making machine intended to stifle snoring. We call it the snore machine, and its target is me. I guess I need the visual. Or am I simply in denial?

WHERE HAVE YOU GONE?

I miss Life magazine. It wasn't the greatest, but you could always count on a good story or two and some great pictures. So why am I mourning Life's demise? Because I have finally given up on another magazine. I will no longer read Time.

When they refused to name George W. Bush one of the 100 most influential people, then they passed the gauntlet from being a news mag to an urban pop culture mag with a left wing radical agenda.

So, I add Time to my list of non-read magazines. When the New Yorker magazine featured the Easter Bunny being crucified on the cross around Easter, I wrote them a letter canceling my subscription. I showed them, huh? Nary a word from their editorial department or marketing or even subscription services. And this happened back in the late 80's if memory serves. All I know about my memory is that I haven't picked up a copy of that magazine since. And Time is on that list now, too.

There are so many magazines I've never read anyway(s), but not looking at some that I used to subscribe to is no sacrifice for me. It's like leaving a movie or a play because it offends. I've done that, too. You know what? It always makes me feel good, too.

TOASTED IN PHOENIX OR HOSED BY THE NBA AND SOME GUY (PICTURED IF THAT IS A JACKASS) NAMED STU JACKSON

Do you feel my disgust? About the Phoenix Suns' suspended players for toninight's Game 5 match up with the San Antonio Thugs. (You know I should have taken my blood pressure before I began this entry and then when finished). By doing whatever they feel like, the NBA hierarchy has handed the team from Texas the Second Round Series against the Suns.

There were teachers at MTV High that had bad rules. The worst was an over zealous math teacher who wouldn't allow students to use the restroom during his class. Now when the same student asked me, I gladly allowed it and didn't neeed anymore information. But there were no exceptions for the math teacher, often referred to as Sergeant. But it was a bad rule.

And I don't care how long leaving the bench carries a 1-game suspension has been on the books--it's a bad rule, too. They penalized the wrong team. For nothing. There was no altercation or near altercation from Amare or Diaw. Horry from the Thugs meanwhile knocks the two-time MVP into press row with 18 seconds left in a game already decided and gets only a 2-game suspension. Big deal--he doesn't even start. At least they have a name for them in hockey--goons.

I used to think NFL's Paul Tagliabue the worst commisioner in pro sports. David Stern--you the Man now. And let's not forget Stu Jackson. On second thought, let's do.

SUNGLASS HUT AND BOTTLED WATER

When I was a young entrepreneur (read: mower of yards; ages 13-15), I would never have believed two items staring me (me wearing) in the face were my answer to accumulated wealth: sunglasses and bottled water.

And, oh yes I needed both. Actually, I still remember shedding my sunglasses when I mowed over a guy wire at my Aunt Bertha's (yes, I really had an Aunt Bertha) house and sheered some kind of pin that put my mower in the shop for awhile. I couldn't see the wire because it was thin, light gray in color which became invisible to me wearing shades, and the thickness of the fast growing crab grass. I would say because I hadn't properly trimmed, but I properly trimmed or my customers would point out my incompleteness. Well, not my aunt. I don't recall her ever yelling at me. But that gives me my third way to have made money back then--invent the weed eater.

But the money to be made on sunglasses! Maui Jims, Ray Ban, Revo, et. al, sell for a hundred bucks. For sunglasses! And most people I know have several pairs. Plus clip ons.

Bottled water, are you kidding me? People would pay for water in a bottle? I never would have believed it in those days when I would turn on the outside faucet and drink. Or, yes, drink from the hose in the yard, but only after running some water out to wash out spiders. But I guess I shouldn't be too hard on myself when Cokes were in glass bottles. Plastics wouldn't come along until after the movie The Graduate.

So while my focus was on the green, the real green to be made was in sunglasses, bottled water, and weed eaters. I guess that says something about focus and where we are to keep our eyes.

COKE GUM WITH PEPSIN

You learn something everyday. I never heard of Coke gum. Peppermint at that. And what's up with the little Dutch kid? I thought he represented some other product.

Gum I have loved, I almost called this entry. Sour apple, the big ones that you can still find in some machines, is maybe my favorite. A close second was the gum once found in packs of baseball cards. The flavor never lasted long, but that was no problem. Just buy a few more packs of cards. You could still smell the sweet sugar that stuck to the back of some cards. Even if that smeared the statistics on the back or minimally stained it, it was still worth it.

Dentine was my third fave, I guess. At least that's what my mom always carried in her purse. It didn't hold up so well in jean pockets because it wasn't big enough and its wrapper wasn't very strong. I used to wrap that gum across my front teeth as I walked to school on a cold day. I must have been a mouth breather or a huffer and puffer if I thought that kept me warm. But hey, I was just a kid. Even when I was older, I would have my dad take me to Hunts' Restaurant where I could purchase hot cinnamon mints to eat while watching a high school football game on a cold Friday night.

But his was an entry about gum, not mints. So the best of the rest was just that. I liked all kinds of gum, but I wasn't a discriminate chewer.

My least favorite as always was the gum that found the bottom of your shoe. Even if it happened to be Coca-Cola gum.

ANGST

Yes, that's me. Standing at the edge of the Pacific Ocean in San Diego. Friday night. Well early evening. Just before my Belovedes (St. Louis Cardinals) are to play the Padres.

So why the angst? Before the game started? The Padres were starting one of the best NL hurlers. The Cardinals were starting a pitcher by the name of Kip. Kip hurls, too. But more often, he makes fans want to hurl when they watch him and his now 1-7 record.

So even before the game, I sorta knew the results. So my daughter and I on Turn Back The Clock or Disco Night at Petco, were treated to an offensive show of three home runs and a 7-0 San Diego win. She, raised the right way as a Cardinal fan, has neared the edge of being disowned by cheering wildly each Padre home run. Stoically, I sat with arms crossed. I didn't even cheer one of my Belovedes' four singles. To top it off, the Padres wore those mustard yellow uniforms from 1972. They were as one fan said, "so ugly, that they're cool". They looked like pajamas to me, And the way some players wear their pants so long not to reveal socks, they looked like they might have feet in them, too.

Didn't Gladys Knight and the Kips sing that old ditty "Oh, What a Night"? Oh well, I guess all analogies break down after awhile. Good night, Gracie.