For all the range off horrible news last week with mass killings, police killings of unarmed blacks, spikes in cases of COVID-19 because too many people think it's either not real or that the pandemic is over -- along with the good news of the Derek Chauvin verdict and vaccinations passing the 200 million mark -- I think this story (which is idiotic in many ways) was probably my favorite of the week. You likely read about it. It was the story of guy who was on the Bumble dating site -- and the Bumble name couldn't be more perfect for this story -- and trying to hook up with a woman. All well-and-good, fair enough, except that he was using the tried-and-true, suave technique of bragging how he had been involved in the insurrection of the U.S. Capitol on January 6. Apparently, he thought this was going to make his deeply attractive. What I loved was her pithy response -- "We are not a match." But what I loved more was that she then turned the guy into the FBI. And he was arrested. I don't know if the Bumble dating site charges to browse around, but if that guy makes a claim for a refund, I hope Bumble Customer Service points to their User Agreement that says "No money back in case of insurrection." By the way, what I love so much about the story is not just the lunacy of it all and the great "third act" surprise twist comeuppance, but that it also speaks to something political, as well. We hear about the sub-genre of dating known as Terrible Dating Stories. This clown didn't even get as far as going on the first date, and he may qualify for the Hall of Fame. (I was going to call him a "poor sap," but you don't get to qualify as something as sympathetic as a poor sap when your problems are caused by a seditious act trying to overthrow the U.S. government.) People try to top one another with their tales of Terrible Dating woe. And even though he didn't even officially get on a first date, I think he may nonetheless qualify as Mr. Bumble. I suppose there are some women who is pick-up light might have been something that got them all hot. The thing is, though, it's still probably a good idea to sense out your intended first and see if maybe she's on the same page with you about the whole "traitor thing." The best I can figure is something I referenced about there being a political element to this all in the far-right mindset behind the story: that anyone who was involved in the insurrection was SO self-centered and self-righteous about their actions to go to Washington, D.C., and actually break into the U.S. Capitol that it perhaps didn't even occur to them -- or still doesn't now -- that they didn't anything wrong, that Trump was telling the truth, that the election really was stolen by dead South American drug lords, that "Q" has said it will all work out with Democrats arrested and Trump re-ascending to the White House, and that everyone must agree with those who stormed the Capitol that it was a great thing to do! But still, as a pick-up line? Whether knowing or totally unaware that it's a serious federal crime? I was going to say, "Has he not watched the news about all the arrests??" -- but then I realized someone who would think the election was actually stolen and goes to Washington to overthrow the government probably doesn't spend much time watching "main stream media." Or pay much attention to news, period. And so the end result is that you go on the Bumble dating site, brag about your insurrection, get shut down, and then turned in to the FBI and arrested. Sometimes in life, there is a whimsy that plays out much too perfectly. And this is one of them. Because not only does the name fit to a T, but the title of the song and some of the words do, too. (It's from the stage version of Oliver!, but was cut from the movie.) It's sung by Hope Jackman as 'Widow Corney' who is being seduced by Willoughby Goddard as Mr....oh, you know.
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The past few years, on the day of the Oscars, I wrote the following, about a quest I've been on. A long while back, I was on a mini-mission to get the Motion Picture Academy to open their Oscar broadcast with a particularly wonderful song that, though it had a bit of shelf-life in country music (reaching #10 on the country charts), I figured they wouldn't know. I actually came close -- not to accomplishing my task, but having access to making the suggestion -- when my former boss at Universal Studios, Bob Rehme, was made president of the Academy. Alas, I didn't have the contact information that would have helped and didn't make the effort -- which probably wouldn't have been too difficult, even it was before Google searches -- to track it down (hence never getting beyond being just a "mini-mission"). The idea time has long-since passed, since the group who sang the song, the Statler Brothers, have retired, and also some of the references in the song -- while many are still classic -- aren't all likely as impactful on today's audience. Still, it's a very fun song, and would make an enjoyable number in the middle of the broadcast, sung by a cobbled-together quartet of movie stars singing. And classic movies are just that – classic. Or the Statlers themselves could come out of retirement. They did briefly a couple years ago for an event when elected into a country music Hall of Fame. But no, that's not going to happen. But it doesn't stop me from at least presenting the song on the day of the Oscar broadcast. So, here it is -- one of the most affectionate and clever songs I've heard about movies. And it fits perfectly into the portfolio of "list" songs that the Statlers were so well-known for. Indeed, the name of the song is "The Movies." There's one change from the initial years. When I've posted the song initially, it was a video with Jimmy Fortune who had replaced Lew DeWitt who'd had to retire for health reasons. But I've found a video with all four original Statlers, all the more notable since it was Lew DeWitt (on your far right, with the guitar) who wrote the song. And that's the version I get to post here for the first time. Happy Maurice Cheeks Day! Here's my annual column explaining why his gracious actions back in 2003 right before an NBA playoff game were so special, along with video of the heartwarming event. This is the annual reprint of a column originally written on The Huffington Post in 2009. And this year is the 18th anniversary of the actual event itself, Some stories simply demand repeating. Or better put, demand not being forgotten. This is one of them. And so, once again, here 'tis. One additional word. happily Maurice Cheeks is still in the NBA!. And even more happily, he's back in his hometown. He's currently the assistant coach for the Chicago Bulls. He also had a strong career as a solid player, and is 13th on the all-time list of assists with 7.392. But though this doesn't count on that list, it may be his best assist of all... * * * April 25, 2009 Oh, Say Can You Sing? A National Anthem to Remember As I prepared to write about an act of uncommon decency by a professional athlete, I realized that calling it that was unfair, that it diminishes what happened, because this was simply an act of uncommon decency, period. That it happened on such a high level and under such a bright microscope might likely stir the heart more, but it's the act itself that is ultimately what stirs us to begin with. Who it was and when it took place simply moves it up the pedestal. Today is the sixth anniversary of Maurice Cheek's moment on the pedestal. There is in the American consciousness for notable performances of the National Anthem at sporting events. Jose Feliciano's evocative singing at the 1968 World Series in Detroit was the first to interpret the "Star Spangled Banner" before a national audience. Because 1968 was one of the most tumultuous years in U.S. history, many at the time were so outraged that it took his career years to recover. Today, the rendition not only seems tame, but one of the most tender and beautiful. (And among the least known. If you've never heard it, do yourself a favor and click here to listen.) Whitney Houston gets mentioned often for her rousing rendition at the 1991 Super Bowl, during the Gulf War. For many, Marvin Gaye's deeply soulful performance at the 1983 NBA All Star is the most memorable. But for sheer emotional joy, it's hard to top what happened on April 27, 2003, before Game 4 of the NBA playoffs between the Portland Trailblazers and Dallas Mavericks. Context only adds to the story. So, once again: This was the playoffs. This is what all professional athletes live for, what their year is about. The regular season is a prelude, an effort to get into the post-season and be in place to win the league championship, to become a part of your sport's history. Everything centers on this. As the start of each playoff game nears, as the roaring crowd is at its highest pitch, as players put on their proverbial "game faces" and the battle is moments from beginning, all external thoughts get filtered out, and focus is completely, solely on their task ahead. The National Anthem, for most athletes, must be one of those external influences. More than most of us, who hear the "Star Spangled Banner" largely on special occasions, professional athletes have heard the National Anthem played before every single competitive game they've played. Game after game repeatedly each season, and season after season, for decades. Relentlessly. As meaningful as the song is, it is also just part of the ritual for a professional athlete, focused on the game, geared up for the game, anxious to start the game. Silent, not singing, maybe not even hearing the music. Waiting for the National Anthem to be played, and finished, so that they can finally start what they're there for. It's likely as much background noise as it is patriotic uplift. And so it must have been as the Trailblazers and Mavericks prepared for their playoff game to start. Stepping out onto the court was Natalie Gilbert, a 13-year-old girl. Just another National Anthem, just another youngster who won a contest, just another two minutes the crowd wanted to get past for the game they were there to see, to start. And she started fine. A little hesitant, since it's a frightening occasion for a child, with a national audience, flashing lights and a military guard. But in her wavering voice, she was prepared. Except that a few lines in, the high pageantry of the moment got her, and something went very wrong. She totally, thoroughly forgot the words. A young 13-year-old child, standing in front of over 10,000 people, lost. Alone. And that's when Maurice Cheeks showed the kind of person he was. Maurice Cheeks had had a very good NBA career as a player. He played for 15 years and was selected to four All Star games. When he retired, he was the all-time leader in steals and fifth in assists. He averaged over 11 points a game. And then he later became a coach, the position he was currently in for the Portland Trailblazers. It was Cheeks who was responsible for his team, responsible for keeping them focused on the game, responsible for guiding them. But he saw a 13-year-old girl in trouble. And that's when Maurice Cheeks showed the kind of person he was. Immediately. Cheeks always had a reputation in the NBA as a good guy. But he was about to prove it on a national stage. And what happened next - not just with Maurice Cheeks, but eventually with all the jaded players whose minds had been previously-focused on their game, an entire stadium of basketball fans there to see basketball, even the opposing white-haired coach Don Nelson - is just enthralling. The moment is wonderful, but how it builds and surprises is even better. And at the end, this tiny girl looking up at the giant of a man - who stayed around, refusing to leave her side and return to his team - with her face awash with relief, a huge hug, and the clear words mouthed, "Thank you," is all you need to see to why it's hard to top what happened on April 25, 2003, before Game 4 of the NBA playoffs for sheer emotional joy. Six years ago today. No, not that one. This is a big treat for classical music lovers. But I also think that for those who aren't, at the very least the first 201 minutes of this video may well still be fascinating. It's similar to a video a posted a while back but for a different Beethoven symphony. That was for the famous Fifth, this for the Seventh. (Though that might be my favorite -- and if not, then a razor-thin close second place.) I comes from the Chicago Symphony Orchestra’s centennial season, Their longtime conductor and music director Sir Georg Solti had recently been named the orchestra's first music director laureate, and he conducted them in Beethoven’s Symphony No. 7. It was recorded on Oct. 17, 1991, for PBS’ Great Performances, an episode they called "The Symphony of Rhythm." What makes the broadcast so special is that this isn’t just Solti conducting Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony, but the video begins with over 20 minutes of Solti talking about how and why he chose to interpret the performance this new way, throwing out his old notes to look at it fresh. His discussion -- often sitting at a piano and playing examples of what he's describing -- is intercut with extensive clips of him rehearsing the orchestra to get what he wants. Only after that do they have the full piece. The whole thing is wonderful but it's that first 21 minutes that's riveting. So, you really get an idea what a conductor does, better than almost anything I’ve seen – and you also see why Solti and the CSO were considered so great together. For those who only want to see and hear the symphony itself, you can jump to the 21:00 mark. Any who just want to see the documentary part, it runs...well, 21 minutes. But you probably figured that out. Because it's only on the CSOtv website, I can't embed it on these pages, but you can watch it here. And one caveat: I don’t know how long this video will be available to watch. The earlier one with the Seventh Symphony is no longer online, though I originally posted that five months so, so there's no way for me know how when it was taken down. I suspect it should be up for at least a few weeks, but no guarantees This is a one-minute "teaser" trailer that will give you a brief idea of what those first 21 minutes are like.
On this week’s Al Franken podcast, his guests are Anti-Trust Lawyer Zephyr Teachout and early Facebook investor Roger McNamee. They discuss the dangers posed by data behemoths like Facebook, Google and Amazon.
We haven't had a Crosswalk the Musical for a while, so let's head back to James Corden for another one. This is the Crosswalk version of Grease. I remember when the stage production of Grease first opened. No, I actually mean "first opened," not the off-Broadway production. It began life in Chicago in 1971, and opened at the Kingston Mines Theater, based loosely on Taft High School, which one of the writers, Jim Jacobs, attended. The production there was a grittier show and more Chicago-specific than the incarnation it developed into that the general public knows it as, And it was a huge hit there and ran for a long time. So much so that it got enough attention to travel to New York. Where it was eventually moved from off-Broadway to Broadway, and was a huge hit and ran for a long time. Until it made it to the intersection of Beverly Boulevard and Genesee Ave. Where it ran for five minutes. |
AuthorRobert J. Elisberg is a political commentator, screenwriter, novelist, tech writer and also some other things that I just tend to keep forgetting. Feedspot Badge of Honor
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