My Sick Mind

That's a 1935 National Chicle Beattie Feathers card. I don't know what a Chicle is, but I do know that if I had another $1,397.50 and I'll be able to screw one of those girls in Reno . Ya gotta love people with disposable income. Me, on the other hand ... Saturday was AIDS Awareness Day, the latest in a round of "Awareness Days" designed to make us aware. I think they waste a lot of good Awareness Days on stuff that we already know about. AIDS, cancer, heart disease ... If you're going to have these Awareness Days, it should be stuff that we aren't aware of, so that when the day rolled around, you would say, " Oh, it's tie your shoes awareness day." For all those kids who buy the $200 shoes and don't tie them. Or, "Your cell phone annoys people awareness day." I had no idea my cell phone annoyed people. Thank you for making me aware of that. I'll change my dorky Star Wars ringtone to something that sounds more like an...

Every now and then something in the newspaper strikes me as odd and I dash off a letter to the editor. I'm sure they enjoy hearing from me, a loyal reader and all. I've written to the sports page before, but they generally ignore me. I guess I don't have enough vitriol for the typical Philadelphia sports fan. They usually run stuff about how this guy "sucks" or that one should be deported. A tiny piece in Tuesday's paper got me to open up the e-mail. The 2008 baseball Hall of Fame ballot was announced, and there are no clear cut choices for the Hall. There are two first-timers on there, but neither of them I would deem worthy of induction. If the Hall and their voters do the right thing, they will elect no one, but the ceremony is hugely tied-into the local economy, ESPN and baseball itself that they will be forced to elect a player who has appeared on the ballot several times before and has not gotten the requisite number of votes. The likely victor will ...

I’m a little late catching up with this, but there is an interesting documentary airing on HBO now, called Cathouse , detailing life at the Moonlite Bunny Ranch , one of Nevada’s famous brothels. I was up until 2am on Saturday watching it because, much like a train wreck, you cannot look away. The original is 5 years old, but there is still a wealth of information for the curious (me) because it provides a fascinating insight into a side of life that is not discussed in polite company, which is why I will write about it here. There is a new batch of shows running now , and I highly recommend it. Besides all the sex , which goes without saying, I was interested in the financial aspect of it and how the customers arrive at their prices. As it turns out, an hour with one of these women will cost you in the neighborhood of $1,500 for the full experience. Some guys go for less. One girl talked about a guy who paid for 5 minutes. I guess the guy only had $125, which makes me figure that he...

There's Christina Aguilera , showing her pregnant belly and part of her pregnant nana's on the January 2008 cover of marie claire magazine, whatever that is. I know , it's been done. Most notably several years ago by Demi Moore on the cover of Vanity Fair , but every time I see something like this I think about how much our attitudes have changed in the time I've been alive. In the 1960s , where I come from, married couples on television slept in separate beds for fear of scaring away their middle American audience who would see it as too risque for prime time TV. In 1971 Archie Bunker flushed a toilet on All in the Family , and the studio audience erupted in laughter, as though it was the most arrogant (and funny) thing anyone had ever done. Maybe it was. Lucille Ball couldn't say she was pregnant on I Love Lucy. Certain subjects were taboo and you couldn't say some words (even on the news), where we were shocked and awed every night by images of battle scene...

I wish I knew why my nose runs when I eat. Like a mental patient, I have to have a tissue with me at meals. If I’m at one of those fancy places (or a place that thinks they’re fancy) that has the cloth napkins, I’m very uncomfortable. I’m seeing no end to my Ebola business. Every time I think I’ve run out of things to sell, along comes something else. Recently, I uncovered my old Matchbox car collection. They would be worth more if I still had the box, but I think you’d have to be borderline psychotic to have kept the box. Ebola must be a haven for people who collect stuff like that. I put up a raggedy old football card from 1935 that someone gave me 15 years ago that I figured would maybe fetch 5 dollars. There are 4 days left in the auction and I’m almost embarrassed by what somebody is willing to pay for it. Dr. Robert Cade , the guy who invented Gatorade died yesterday of kidney failure. I find that ironic. Some of us are old enough to remember Stokely's Gatorade in that w...

It’s Xmas season in America, and that means that the Muzak will be blaring traditional Gentile holiday songs non-stop until New Year’s Day. The military could use it as a training device for troops who are trapped behind enemy lines and subjected to torture. If I can withstand 8 hours a day of Xmas Muzak for almost two months, I am probably qualified to serve in Afghanistan. One of them is the timeless epic, “Here Comes Santa Claus,” which contains the lyric hang up your stockings and say your prayers, ‘cause Santa Claus comes tonight , which artfully mixes organized religion and fantasy. To some, they are one and the same. Are the kids praying for lots of toys? You betcha. Is Jesus bringing them? Then , there is what I call “synthetic Xmas music.” You know, that Nouveau Riche junk like Manheim Steamroller, the Trans-Siberian Orchestra and that Windham Hill jazz that you hear at The Sharper Image, public radio at 4am or on line at your local high-end coffee shop. The kind of song tha...

" Romance and Cigarettes is lewd and it's lurid and looks to be a lost pop opera, but it has more vitality than anything else out there." - Carrie Rickey, Philadelphia Inquirer I did something today that I haven't done in almost 3 years. I saw a movie in a theater. I don't go, mostly because I find it odd to sit in a theater alone and odder to have no one to talk to about the movie once it's over. Generally, the movies I like are the oddball ones that don't play in a lot of theaters, and chances are when I go to work tomorrow and tell people the name of the movie I saw, they'll look at me in a stranger fashion than usual. It's only playing at one cinema around here, but fortunately for me, I know where it is. It's called Ritz at the Bourse, even though it's really next door to The Bourse. But, The Ritz Next-door to the Bourse is probably too long a name for it. Romance and Cigarettes is one of those movies that I felt compelled to see. ...