Joy

Peanuts, hotdogs, baseball and beer.  Oh, and friends appreciating the same, in fact, encouraging you to embrace the wonderful things in life.

Recently speaking to one of the terrific and closest friends in my life, (amongst others…I’m very blessed) and considering the Corona pandemic, I was worried about his health.  He’s almost one hundred and thirteen years old.  Rather than giving a Yankee dime about his age, or a virus, his focus was on baseball.

I wish everyone in this wild world could hear his passionate voice.  “What the Hell about opening Day!?!”  He didn’t have to remind me of it, Opening Day has been delayed over health concerns.  He watches baseball, coached it, and allowed me to enter his home when we could either watch or listen to any game on TV or the radio.  Those were magnificent days.  We’d laugh at the announcers, make fun of foolish fans, speak of players’ salaries and then retreat to our home field: Indian Stadium in Spokane, Washington.  One dollar hotdogs and beer.  Best dogs ever.  I guess you could wonder if we were the best dogs in the stadium. I’m tired of wondering.  On those glorious evenings, amidst the lights in a balmy seventy degree city, we found joy.  I still can’t thank him enough.

The games?  It didn’t matter to me who was winning.  Believe me, I HATE losing, and I LOVE winning.  Anyone telling you differently is selling something.  This fellow made me recognize how we can love something, and for three hours, forget about everything else.

Marshall St. John, my friend, encouraged me to enjoy the very, very difficult and wonderful sport of baseball.  Opening day will be missed, but our games will not be forgotten.

Three generations of St. Johns

 

Jackdog

My step dog, Jack, just turned 14 today, and his tail is still waging.  So is his mouth. His mother, my wife, has treated this dog with respect, kindness, and the proper diet: Table scraps and gourmet cupcakes.JackBirthday-Cupcake

Jack is cute, friendly, thoughtful, has a terrific sense of humor, yet maintains discipline within the boundaries of our property with respect to the squirrels. He is also overweight. We don’t know why.

Our veterinarian lectures us about Jack’s weight.  He also can’t believe how fat, old yet healthy he is.  Our vet also tells us to never feed him table scraps.  Before people judge us, and by the way, we don’t give a crap if you do, I would like to define our “table scraps”:  These are Jack’s table scraps.

Grilled Pork Tenderloin Medallions drizzled with a balsamic glaze accompanied with Sauteed Mushrooms and Garlic Toast.  It’s His go to meal.

Rainbow Trout lightly dusted with seasoned Snoqualmie Falls pancake mix, crispy fried in olive oil with Steamed Cauliflower and Broccoli.

“We can never smell it” Grilled Sockeye Salmon over hickory coals and garlic asparagus.  Jackdog pisses outside.

Chicken Parmesan with Vine Ripened Tomatoes stolen from neighbor’s garden to create a bowl full of Basil Marinara.

The Ridiculous Rueben:  St. Patrick’s Day is the only day Jack requests the most expensive corned beef, cabbage, and cheese.  This comes with toasted Rye and a special sauce.  Complimentary spilled beer on the side.

Cajun Catfish fry with Caramelized Onions.  (Mardi Gras comes more than once a year for our Jackdog.)

Grilled Halibut with Lemon Basil Vinaigrette and Roasted Brussels Sprouts.  (Jackdog likes this with a cheap white wine.)

Roasted Chicken with Rosemary and Buttery Brown Sugar Butternut Squash.

Backyard Marshall Burger:  Look it up.  It’s posted on my blog.

Grilled Brats with caramelized onions, sauteed mushrooms and peppers.  (Jackdog loves this while watching baseball or football.  He’s a great admirer of both sports, and I’ve never witnessed him spill a beer.)

JackDog-SteakJackdog’s Favorite:  Ribeye Steak.  No sides.

One might think my cooking must be dreadful if such culinary delights become scraps. Quite the contrary.  I make enough for five.  We have another large dog as well.  I also save the fifth helping for myself.  Piss on the cats.  They can eat rats.

Happy Birthday, Jackdog.  Keep waging.

 

JacksSteakDinner

E (Extra) True Hollywood Story

Now years ago, I worked for the county, which I believed was the only job in the world where you did indeed receive pay for napping on the job.  For years, I’ve searched the world and elsewhere to find its equal.  Elusive as it was, much like finding socks to match my dirty white t-shirt, I found it.  It is in Hollywood.  And, this is your Extra True Hollywood Story.

I know two professional actors.  Both are my dear friends.  One, an accomplished actor, working in over a dozen movies, appearing in countless T.V. episodes and having a lead role in a Soap Opera for six years as well as directing, writing and starring in an award winning independent film.  He shall remain anonymous.  His father shall not.  Marshall, some eighty years of age, give or take a few decades depending on his attitude, is also an accomplished thespian and former broadcaster, having worked the commercial junction, as well as many plays and a pivotal role in his son’s independent film.  Both have credentials, but you decide which one has mastered the art of making money the easy way.

Marshall’s son belongs to S.A.G..  (Screen Actor’s Guild).  This is a common union for actors who must pay their dues while scraping for money in between jobs and when that acting job arrives, they must memorize lines I can’t even read.  It is definitely work mixed with some formidable humility.  Marshall belongs to another cult referred to as E.S.A.G. (Extra Sophisticated Actors’ Gag)…..No fees, paid naps and no contracts.  Brilliant.  I’d apply but no one in their right mind would accept a person less than eighty years of ageless beauty……or were diagnosed with narcolepsy.  I may be an actor at home, but I can’t play one on T.V..  My friend, Marshall, now referred to as “Method Man Mark”, has the ability to nap whenever he chooses.  This is legitimate acting.

Auditioning as a comatose patient on “Grey’s Anatomy”, Mark nailed it.  Falling asleep during the audition landed him an undisclosed amount of money fooling those in Hollywood.  Bravo.

But, could he bring his craft to the set on this gurney, while one hundred or so people were expecting him to be in a coma?  Yes.  In fact, this is THEE God’s honest true story.  He literally, for thirty minutes, fell asleep in the gurney as the best extra ever to nap on a prime time show.  Being in such a deep sleep, the directors were wondering if he was flat lining, but the only prop available was an old Atari monitor.  Shaking him, they urged him to get out of character, and as usual, he awakened with an eighty year old cantankerous attitude solidifying an additional spot on the show.

And then, that’s when his creative art of napping on cue came to a definitive halt.  He began negotiating with Hollywood executives as to when and where he should fall asleep. They threw out times such as “noon”, but Marshall refused because that was cottage cheese and jello time.  They mentioned five o’clock P.M. and he tore up the studio, and also  threatened them to whip them with the belt he left behind at the airport during a routine security check earlier at L.A.Xtra.  It was all falling to pieces of nap rage.

His last moment of sanity was to make a legitimate deal keeping all extras and executives happy.  Under no circumstances, should he be held under contract by MGM to be forced hostage in a gurney while there was an Early Bird Special at Denny’s featuring “Moons Over My Hammy.”

OK, I added some salt and pepper to the story.  I couldn’t help it.  Proudly, I can say with complete honesty and with Marshall’s consent, he did fall asleep during the filming.  The best cash he ever made.  There’s nothing like method napping.

Blazing Saddles – Napping on the Job

 

Who’s Your Favorite Dictator? (Marshall Chronicles)

I once asked a very dear and older friend of mine who his favorite dictator was.  He laughed hysterically and couldn’t answer, because he actually didn’t have a favorite.  That would have been a terrific answer and question on Jeopardy. My friend, Mark, would have been stumped and Alex Trebec would have intimidated him by providing the correct answer or question with supreme confidence.

(I don’t know the spelling of names and I don’t have time to look up celebrities making more money than me)  Trebek:  You don’t know who your favorite dictator is???  The answer is “Who is Mussolini?”

My friend:  “F off, Mr. Trebek.”

I was a child then in my mid twenties and didn’t recognize what the term “Dictator” represented.  Thinking of people such as Ronald Reagan, George Steinbrenner, Donald Trump, or perhaps one of the Kardashions, I didn’t feel it was such a ridiculous question.  Incredulously, I didn’t understand why he wished to watch the Seattle Mariners lose rather than satisfy me with an answer.  Therefore, upon pestering him for nearly an hour, seeking, in fact begging for a reasonable response while the Mariners were losing their 19th straight game, I made it easier for him.  This was the only way to shut me up and wake him up. I made it multiple choice.  Reagan, Steinbrenner and Trump were all on the list.  He wasn’t aware of this Kardashion Dictator person, so I immediately helped him with the process of elimination.  My friend, Mark, asked me if he did provide an answer if I would please shut up and leave his domain.  That’s when further negotiations proceeded.  I replied, “I’ll shut up if you give me a sufficient answer, but I won’t leave because I don’t have cable and I want to watch the Mariners lose as much as you.”  Finally, he complied but raised the ante.  Requesting to choose someone not on my list, I thought, ok, I’ve given this friend of mine enough trouble.

His definitive response:  Captain Kirk.   I would have never thought of that guy.  But, I was most definitely satisfied, so I honored his request…………for about five minutes before asking him my next profound question:  “Who was your favorite character on Gilligan’s Island?”  That’s when I was forced to leave.

I still love that guy.