... And they're fantastic!
"You must not get out much." - Anonymous
"You clearly have too much time on your hands." - Anonymous
"Wonder if your employer knows how you are spending your time." - Anonymous
This is officially more comment action than Michael Morsch has gotten in the history of Outta Leftfield.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
The Rope-A-Dope
Outta Leftfield
Published: Wednesday, May 26, 2010
By Mike Morsch
Executive Editor
Avoid birthday gift grilling or risk ending up lost
There is so much that Morsch could possibly address, based on the (possible) puns in the title. We know from his previous column that it was the Blonde Accountant's birthday recently. Did he buy her a grill? Did he grill food for her? Or did she "grill" him about what the gift was? Did he buy her the board game Risk, or is the column related to the finale of "Lost"?
Given all the hoopla surrounding it, a discussion of the season finale of “Lost” might be in order this week.
Oh, I know him so well. So very, very well. As you know, I do these in "real time," reacting to each sentence as it comes. I don't read ahead. I'm so proud of myself.
But I need a new outdoor grill and priorities being what they are … well, you know.
No... no, I don't know. So instead of talking about "Lost," you're going to talk about... a grill? Why, sir, why?
Besides, I was not heavily invested in “Lost” as I am more of a “Gilligan’s Island” guy. In fact, I stopped being interested in “Lost” when it became apparent that the Harlem Globetrotters weren’t going to show up on the island and play a basketball game against a team of Smoke Monsters.
Did you know that "Gilligan's Island" is miserably, miserably unfunny? It's true. So it's totally unsurprising that Morsch loves it.
As fate would have it, though, the need for a new outdoor grill just happened to coincide with the “Lost” finale and The Blonde Accountant’s birthday, one in which she turned 29.
So he needed a new grill... in exactly the same two-hour timeframe in which the "Lost" finale was on? Like, at 9:00 PM EST?
I can smell what might be coming here, so I'll just say that it's extremely bad form to buy someone a present that you hope to use yourself.
Now, normally I am not stuck for birthday and anniversary gift ideas for The Blonde Accountant. I choose from a relatively diverse group of options that includes jewelry, jewelry, jewelry, jewelry and oh ya … jewelry. She and her ears, fingers, neck and wrists enjoy turning 29 every year quite a bit.
Hey, wait a second - ALL the options were jewelry! That's now "diverse" at all! That slays me. And I'm sure he thinks that all the women in his audience are nodding knowingly at Morsch's clever "turning 29" references. It's odd, though, that he claims to be clueless when it comes to, like, doing the wash, but is wise enough not to reveal his wife's age.
So this is how this year’s conversation went:
I'm bracing myself for one of Morsch's usual fictional conversations, complete with painfully lame comic flourishes.
Me: “Honey, I’m a little stuck for an idea for your birthday this year. Is there anything you would like?”
TBA: “You’re never stuck for an idea. What happened?”
Me: “Uh … well … hmmmm. I, uh … rats.” (The correct response to that should have been, “I’m an idiot. Please forgive me.”)
I don't see what the issue is here... he's an idiot because he can't think of a gift idea? That's not so bad. At least he's asking. His response is also undoubtedly made up.
TBA: “We could really use a new grill.”
Me: “You want a grill for your birthday? Really?”
Translated from wifespeak, “We could really use a new grill” actually means, “What, are you kidding me, pal?”
This exchange 1.) doesn't make sense as a real-life conversation, and 2.) doesn't make sense as a made-up "funny" conversation.
See, I have learned a few things over the years. One of the things I learned is that I do not want to be known as The Mope Who Bought His Wife an Outdoor Grill for Her Birthday.
The "Mope"? I don't think that's the word he's looking for. I initially thought he was trying to type "dope," but the M and the D are pretty far apart... even for his grotesque sausage fingers.
I’ve also learned that if I were going to be thaaaaaaattttt stupid, I’d be stupid in the big-screen television department and not the outdoor grill department. Go big stupid or don’t go at all, I always say.
"Big Stupid" is a good nickname for Morsch, actually. And you can shorten it to "B.S." I like it.
Naturally, I went directly to the big home improvement store that has the widest selection of outdoor grills looking for jewelry. Hey, jewelry is sold at Costco, why wouldn’t it be sold at Home Depot?
Wow, that's a long-distance call-back to his Costco article right there. Does this smack of his usual "heap praise upon stores and restaurants" strategy?
To nobody’s surprise but my own apparently, there was no jewelry to be found amongst the outdoor grills. As long as I was already there, though, I decided to explore the outdoor grill options.
Alright, we know you're not there for jewelry, okay? We know you're there for grills. Why introduce the jewelry thing in the first place?
Did you know that one could spend upwards of $1,200 on an outdoor grill?
Yes.
I pondered the possibilities ever so briefly but deemed the price tag too exorbitant, especially when other models were priced under $300. Besides, I couldn’t really see how The Blonde Accountant was going to accessorize with that top-of-the-line model of grill anyway, despite all the pairs of black shoes in her closet.
I'm not Morsch, so I'm not going to do internet research on how much grills cost. But for under $300, I'm guessing you're walking away with one of those charcoal grills. Correct me if I'm wrong.
Succumbing to better judgment — which by the way doesn’t happen nearly as often as I’d like it to — I left the home improvement store without buying a grill and headed directly to the jewelry store.
You don't "succumb" to better judgement, sir. This story is rapidly going off the rails - was this whole "grill" thing just a dead end? A rabbit trail?
For the record, one of the reasons I was stuck for a birthday gift idea this year is that I have been consistent over the years in this area. The reality is, The Blonde Accountant is running out of ears, fingers, necks and wrists to adorn. Assuming that she could find matching shoes, I suppose she could feasibly strap an outdoor grill to her back as an additional accessory but I believe that would really draw attention away from the other pieces of jewelry I have purchased for her over the years.
Boy, that was an ugly paragraph. Just try saying it out loud.
In the final analysis, the decision to go with a pearl bracelet from the jewelry store rather than an outdoor grill from the home improvement store, I think, will be seen as a sound decision.
Alright, good for him that he didn't buy the grill. But can you really base a column on something you DIDN'T do? Also, why is Morsch being so delicate about referencing the stores by name?
It also eliminated the perpetual problem of the wrapping of said present that I always have because I couldn’t find a gift bag big enough in which to fit an outdoor grill.
... But you still have to wrap the pearl bracelet. Or do you frequently have trouble wrapping outdoor grills?
I still don’t have a new grill. But as the curtain draws on the finale of another wifely birthday, I’m proud to say I didn’t end up as lost as I could have been.
How would you have been lost if you got the grill? But I forget - Morsch ALWAYS has to use one word from the title in the last sentence. Still, I'd like him to explain why the word "lost" was included at all. He references the TV show of the same name, but in no way is it related to him making the choice between jewelry and a grill.
Published: Wednesday, May 26, 2010
By Mike Morsch
Executive Editor
Avoid birthday gift grilling or risk ending up lost
There is so much that Morsch could possibly address, based on the (possible) puns in the title. We know from his previous column that it was the Blonde Accountant's birthday recently. Did he buy her a grill? Did he grill food for her? Or did she "grill" him about what the gift was? Did he buy her the board game Risk, or is the column related to the finale of "Lost"?
Given all the hoopla surrounding it, a discussion of the season finale of “Lost” might be in order this week.
Oh, I know him so well. So very, very well. As you know, I do these in "real time," reacting to each sentence as it comes. I don't read ahead. I'm so proud of myself.
But I need a new outdoor grill and priorities being what they are … well, you know.
No... no, I don't know. So instead of talking about "Lost," you're going to talk about... a grill? Why, sir, why?
Besides, I was not heavily invested in “Lost” as I am more of a “Gilligan’s Island” guy. In fact, I stopped being interested in “Lost” when it became apparent that the Harlem Globetrotters weren’t going to show up on the island and play a basketball game against a team of Smoke Monsters.
Did you know that "Gilligan's Island" is miserably, miserably unfunny? It's true. So it's totally unsurprising that Morsch loves it.
As fate would have it, though, the need for a new outdoor grill just happened to coincide with the “Lost” finale and The Blonde Accountant’s birthday, one in which she turned 29.
So he needed a new grill... in exactly the same two-hour timeframe in which the "Lost" finale was on? Like, at 9:00 PM EST?
I can smell what might be coming here, so I'll just say that it's extremely bad form to buy someone a present that you hope to use yourself.
Now, normally I am not stuck for birthday and anniversary gift ideas for The Blonde Accountant. I choose from a relatively diverse group of options that includes jewelry, jewelry, jewelry, jewelry and oh ya … jewelry. She and her ears, fingers, neck and wrists enjoy turning 29 every year quite a bit.
Hey, wait a second - ALL the options were jewelry! That's now "diverse" at all! That slays me. And I'm sure he thinks that all the women in his audience are nodding knowingly at Morsch's clever "turning 29" references. It's odd, though, that he claims to be clueless when it comes to, like, doing the wash, but is wise enough not to reveal his wife's age.
So this is how this year’s conversation went:
I'm bracing myself for one of Morsch's usual fictional conversations, complete with painfully lame comic flourishes.
Me: “Honey, I’m a little stuck for an idea for your birthday this year. Is there anything you would like?”
TBA: “You’re never stuck for an idea. What happened?”
Me: “Uh … well … hmmmm. I, uh … rats.” (The correct response to that should have been, “I’m an idiot. Please forgive me.”)
I don't see what the issue is here... he's an idiot because he can't think of a gift idea? That's not so bad. At least he's asking. His response is also undoubtedly made up.
TBA: “We could really use a new grill.”
Me: “You want a grill for your birthday? Really?”
Translated from wifespeak, “We could really use a new grill” actually means, “What, are you kidding me, pal?”
This exchange 1.) doesn't make sense as a real-life conversation, and 2.) doesn't make sense as a made-up "funny" conversation.
See, I have learned a few things over the years. One of the things I learned is that I do not want to be known as The Mope Who Bought His Wife an Outdoor Grill for Her Birthday.
The "Mope"? I don't think that's the word he's looking for. I initially thought he was trying to type "dope," but the M and the D are pretty far apart... even for his grotesque sausage fingers.
I’ve also learned that if I were going to be thaaaaaaattttt stupid, I’d be stupid in the big-screen television department and not the outdoor grill department. Go big stupid or don’t go at all, I always say.
"Big Stupid" is a good nickname for Morsch, actually. And you can shorten it to "B.S." I like it.
Naturally, I went directly to the big home improvement store that has the widest selection of outdoor grills looking for jewelry. Hey, jewelry is sold at Costco, why wouldn’t it be sold at Home Depot?
Wow, that's a long-distance call-back to his Costco article right there. Does this smack of his usual "heap praise upon stores and restaurants" strategy?
To nobody’s surprise but my own apparently, there was no jewelry to be found amongst the outdoor grills. As long as I was already there, though, I decided to explore the outdoor grill options.
Alright, we know you're not there for jewelry, okay? We know you're there for grills. Why introduce the jewelry thing in the first place?
Did you know that one could spend upwards of $1,200 on an outdoor grill?
Yes.
I pondered the possibilities ever so briefly but deemed the price tag too exorbitant, especially when other models were priced under $300. Besides, I couldn’t really see how The Blonde Accountant was going to accessorize with that top-of-the-line model of grill anyway, despite all the pairs of black shoes in her closet.
I'm not Morsch, so I'm not going to do internet research on how much grills cost. But for under $300, I'm guessing you're walking away with one of those charcoal grills. Correct me if I'm wrong.
Succumbing to better judgment — which by the way doesn’t happen nearly as often as I’d like it to — I left the home improvement store without buying a grill and headed directly to the jewelry store.
You don't "succumb" to better judgement, sir. This story is rapidly going off the rails - was this whole "grill" thing just a dead end? A rabbit trail?
For the record, one of the reasons I was stuck for a birthday gift idea this year is that I have been consistent over the years in this area. The reality is, The Blonde Accountant is running out of ears, fingers, necks and wrists to adorn. Assuming that she could find matching shoes, I suppose she could feasibly strap an outdoor grill to her back as an additional accessory but I believe that would really draw attention away from the other pieces of jewelry I have purchased for her over the years.
Boy, that was an ugly paragraph. Just try saying it out loud.
In the final analysis, the decision to go with a pearl bracelet from the jewelry store rather than an outdoor grill from the home improvement store, I think, will be seen as a sound decision.
Alright, good for him that he didn't buy the grill. But can you really base a column on something you DIDN'T do? Also, why is Morsch being so delicate about referencing the stores by name?
It also eliminated the perpetual problem of the wrapping of said present that I always have because I couldn’t find a gift bag big enough in which to fit an outdoor grill.
... But you still have to wrap the pearl bracelet. Or do you frequently have trouble wrapping outdoor grills?
I still don’t have a new grill. But as the curtain draws on the finale of another wifely birthday, I’m proud to say I didn’t end up as lost as I could have been.
How would you have been lost if you got the grill? But I forget - Morsch ALWAYS has to use one word from the title in the last sentence. Still, I'd like him to explain why the word "lost" was included at all. He references the TV show of the same name, but in no way is it related to him making the choice between jewelry and a grill.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
The Worst Ever
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
A big night out in Ambler
I'm calling it right now - this won't be a "column," but rather a blow-by-blow account of what he did and where he went, maybe interspersed with a reference to beer or poop. My theory on these columns is that the demand of writing something "humorous" twice a week is too great for poor Morsch, and so he falls back on a play, a spelling bee, or something of that nature.
One doesn’t need to travel into Philadelphia to have a really nice evening out. There are a lot of options in the suburbs, every one just as pleasing as the next.
I would disagree - surely there must be some degree of difference between them. Without the poor ones, you wouldn't know what the good ones were.
But I have to hand it to Ambler. What a great job the borough has done offering a big night out on the small town.
Ah, so there IS a difference. Really, the sentence should have read, "There are a lot of options, every one just as pleasing as the next, except Ambler, which is even more pleasing."
Finding a quality place to eat downtown is no problem. (Shameless Promotion Alert): There is the Trax Restaurant and Café, The Shanachie Irish Pub, Bridget’s Steakhouse, From the Boot and Dettera Restaurant and Wine Bar.
As I have noted before, it's not a "shameless" promotion to say that he enjoyed a restaurant, unless he owns it or something. I've eaten at Trax - it's overpriced. Shanachie is actually good. Also, following a parenthesis with a colon is bad form. Think about it. It doesn't make sense.
In addition, there are two wonderful entertainment venues in the Act II Playhouse and the Ambler Theater.
I was at Act II for a play festival in college; the bathrooms were nice, but otherwise I can't comment on it. If you like unenjoyable arthouse fare, the Ambler Theater is definitely the place for you. I'm guessing Morsch is attracted by their occasional Three Stooges festivals.
For The Blonde Accountant’s birthday we went to dinner at Dettera’s. It was our first time there, and really, it was superb. The food and service was as good as anything one would find in Philadelphia.
The story so far: "The suburbs can be fun. There are good places to eat in Ambler, and a few theaters. The place we ate at was good."
We then went to see “The Story of My Life” at Act II. What a wonderfully written and acted play in an absolutely first-rate venue.
It doesn't have a backstage. I think that might be one qualification for being "absolutely" first-rate.
The play’s run has been extended through this weekend, so you’ve still got a chance to see some quality theater.
Hey, Morsch - what was it about? Was it a comedy? A tragedy? Care to tell us anything else about this, the one possibly interesting part of your story?
No?
There are a number of restaurants in Montgomery County that we enjoy, too numerous to mention here. And we’ve long been fans of the Sellersville Theater 1894 and the Keswick Theater in Glenside for quality entertainment.
... But those places aren't in Ambler. And you didn't go to them that night. You're wandering off the topic of your already topic-less post.
There really aren’t enough adjectives to describe the opportunities we have here right in our own back yard. But this time, special kudos goes out to Ambler and what it has to offer.
Okay, this is repeating what he's already said. "Everywhere is great; Ambler is also great (possibly greater)."
Adjectives used in the story so far:
Really nice
Pleasing
Great
Quality
Wonderful
Superb
(As) Good (as anything one would find in Philadelphia)
Wonderful(ly written)
Absolutely first-rate
Quality (again)
So when Morsch says there aren't enough adjectives to describe something... he means that he as literally exhausted his limited stock of adjectives.
And even better, I didn’t pay an arm and a leg to park for the evening and after the festivities ended, I was home in 10 minutes.
"Festivities"? You mean, eating and seeing a play?
That’s just beautimous.
So when he runs out of words, he just makes them up.
You gotta be kidding me. This column clocks in at 288 words. Interesting words: 0. Double spaced in 12-point Times New Roman, it barely exceeds one page. This is an 8th-grade composition assignment, and at best I'd give it a C. Morsch doesn't even try to get all artsy, pondering the nature of suburban America or bemoaning urban sprawl. In short, this sucks.
Labels: Act II Playhouse, Ambler Theater, Bridget's Steakhouse, Dettera Restaurant, Mike Morsch, Montgomery Newspapers, Outta Leftfield, The Shanachie Irish Pub, Trax Restaurant
I'm looking forward to all those future columns featuring the Dettera Restaurant, aren't you?
A big night out in Ambler
I'm calling it right now - this won't be a "column," but rather a blow-by-blow account of what he did and where he went, maybe interspersed with a reference to beer or poop. My theory on these columns is that the demand of writing something "humorous" twice a week is too great for poor Morsch, and so he falls back on a play, a spelling bee, or something of that nature.
One doesn’t need to travel into Philadelphia to have a really nice evening out. There are a lot of options in the suburbs, every one just as pleasing as the next.
I would disagree - surely there must be some degree of difference between them. Without the poor ones, you wouldn't know what the good ones were.
But I have to hand it to Ambler. What a great job the borough has done offering a big night out on the small town.
Ah, so there IS a difference. Really, the sentence should have read, "There are a lot of options, every one just as pleasing as the next, except Ambler, which is even more pleasing."
Finding a quality place to eat downtown is no problem. (Shameless Promotion Alert): There is the Trax Restaurant and Café, The Shanachie Irish Pub, Bridget’s Steakhouse, From the Boot and Dettera Restaurant and Wine Bar.
As I have noted before, it's not a "shameless" promotion to say that he enjoyed a restaurant, unless he owns it or something. I've eaten at Trax - it's overpriced. Shanachie is actually good. Also, following a parenthesis with a colon is bad form. Think about it. It doesn't make sense.
In addition, there are two wonderful entertainment venues in the Act II Playhouse and the Ambler Theater.
I was at Act II for a play festival in college; the bathrooms were nice, but otherwise I can't comment on it. If you like unenjoyable arthouse fare, the Ambler Theater is definitely the place for you. I'm guessing Morsch is attracted by their occasional Three Stooges festivals.
For The Blonde Accountant’s birthday we went to dinner at Dettera’s. It was our first time there, and really, it was superb. The food and service was as good as anything one would find in Philadelphia.
The story so far: "The suburbs can be fun. There are good places to eat in Ambler, and a few theaters. The place we ate at was good."
We then went to see “The Story of My Life” at Act II. What a wonderfully written and acted play in an absolutely first-rate venue.
It doesn't have a backstage. I think that might be one qualification for being "absolutely" first-rate.
The play’s run has been extended through this weekend, so you’ve still got a chance to see some quality theater.
Hey, Morsch - what was it about? Was it a comedy? A tragedy? Care to tell us anything else about this, the one possibly interesting part of your story?
No?
There are a number of restaurants in Montgomery County that we enjoy, too numerous to mention here. And we’ve long been fans of the Sellersville Theater 1894 and the Keswick Theater in Glenside for quality entertainment.
... But those places aren't in Ambler. And you didn't go to them that night. You're wandering off the topic of your already topic-less post.
There really aren’t enough adjectives to describe the opportunities we have here right in our own back yard. But this time, special kudos goes out to Ambler and what it has to offer.
Okay, this is repeating what he's already said. "Everywhere is great; Ambler is also great (possibly greater)."
Adjectives used in the story so far:
Really nice
Pleasing
Great
Quality
Wonderful
Superb
(As) Good (as anything one would find in Philadelphia)
Wonderful(ly written)
Absolutely first-rate
Quality (again)
So when Morsch says there aren't enough adjectives to describe something... he means that he as literally exhausted his limited stock of adjectives.
And even better, I didn’t pay an arm and a leg to park for the evening and after the festivities ended, I was home in 10 minutes.
"Festivities"? You mean, eating and seeing a play?
That’s just beautimous.
So when he runs out of words, he just makes them up.
You gotta be kidding me. This column clocks in at 288 words. Interesting words: 0. Double spaced in 12-point Times New Roman, it barely exceeds one page. This is an 8th-grade composition assignment, and at best I'd give it a C. Morsch doesn't even try to get all artsy, pondering the nature of suburban America or bemoaning urban sprawl. In short, this sucks.
Labels: Act II Playhouse, Ambler Theater, Bridget's Steakhouse, Dettera Restaurant, Mike Morsch, Montgomery Newspapers, Outta Leftfield, The Shanachie Irish Pub, Trax Restaurant
I'm looking forward to all those future columns featuring the Dettera Restaurant, aren't you?
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Falling Apart
Outta Leftfield
Published: Wednesday, May 19, 2010
By Mike Morsch
Executive Editor
Emergence of ‘grump bone’ leaves him without a leg to stand on
Morsch recently underwent minor knee surgery. From that bit of information, I am guessing that he will present the "comical" idea of a "grump bone," in contrast to the "funny bone," because he knee hurts or some such. Let's see...
If the hip bone is connected to the thigh bone and the thigh bone is connected to the knee bone, then I can only assume that given the recent series of events in my life, the knee bone is connected to the … grump bone.
Delicious. Continue.
That would explain why I’m so cranky after knee surgery last week. Had I known that my post-surgery mood would be so sour, I would have asked the orthopedic surgeon to make an adjustment on the grump bone while he was fishing around inside my knee.
This is, I must say, a particularly lame premise. How is he going to get another six or eight paragraphs out of this? For the few people who were initially amused by the idea of a "grump bone," I would imagine it's already grown thin.
As a walker, I kind of need my knees to complete that particular activity.
"A walker"... that's like a fish bragging about being "a swimmer."
I walk between 20 and 25 miles a week, at what might be considered a fairly brisk pace for a lug of my girth. To provide some context, I usually time my walks with a calendar, so “brisk” is a relative term in this instance, measured not in minutes but in days.
I'm sorry, I hardly think that 20 to 25 miles in an entire week is all that great. I probably do that walking back and forth from the bathroom and the printer at work.
With that approach, one would think serious injuries would not be a concern. It’s walking, for criminny sakes. But over the past five years, I’ve blown out both knees and an Achilles tendon just walking around the park.
This might be a warning sign, like peeing your pants when you sneeze. Morsch is like the Toyota Prius of humans - overrated and full of defects.
Those are by no means pleasant injuries and it continues to baffle me how these injuries occur. Did I mention I was just walking?
Idea - you're fat and lazy. Other men your age are running marathons. Those men aren't shoving hot dogs down their throat every evening.
Of course, I shouldn’t be surprised. I’m the guy who threw his back out … ironing. That’s right, I was standing at the ironing board pressing a shirt several years ago and my back went out on me. I was in discomfort for several weeks because of an ironing mishap for crying out loud. I could not make that up if I tried.
That is sad. I mean seriously, that is sad. The slightest physical activity causes this man's body to fall apart.
So about six weeks ago, my right knee began barking at me during my walks. Since I had experienced the same thing five years ago on my left knee, I was pretty sure I knew what had happened.
Morsch also complained that walking on cement floors causes him pain. My mind boggles.
A visit to the orthopedic surgeon — Dr. Thomas Greene of North Penn Orthopaedic Associates in Lansdale, a swell fellow who it turns out is a whiz with the knife (a valuable skill for a surgeon) — confirmed what I already knew: a torn meniscus. I have no idea what that means — I thought Meniscus was the Roman god of knee-jerk reactions — but it did hurt like the dickens.
Hey-oh! Normally, with stupid, irrelevant things that he finds on the Internet, Morsch does some research. With something that directly relates to his health, he seems not to care. I'm beginning to see how he ended up like this.
Now my approach from the beginning was to get this surgery done as quickly as possible and get back outside for my walks. Two things I failed to consider: (1) I’m not as young as I used to be; (2) My knees are not as young as I used to be.
Obviously.
What this means is that my body responded differently to surgery this time than it did five years ago. For some reason, I don’t recall missing any work after the surgery and I’m pretty sure I was out walking within a few days afterward.
Would missing work even be necessary? I suspect that most of Morsch's day involves sitting in a chair and trying to jab one key at a time with his bloated hot dog fingers.
In reality, that’s not likely what happened five years ago after the first knee surgery but because I am older now, I forget a lot of things. And I forget that I forget those things.
He pops and tears things while walking; he throws his back out ironing; he completely forgets major events in his life. How has he survived this long?
And that in turn caused the grump bone to be front and center this time around.
The surgery itself was uneventful, although it did hurt like a sonofagun in the immediate aftermath. The doctor mentioned to The Blonde Accountant after the surgery that my knee looked relatively yucky (a medical term I suppose) once he got in there and took a look around. My guess is that all that damage occurred from long periods of standing over and ironing board.
I think you mean "an" ironing board. I would imagine that his knee contains 30% bone, 10% tendon, and 60% mustard and relish.
But the doc cleaned everything up. Of course, I had to wear a hospital gown for the procedure and I had several people that day at Lansdale Hospital — a fine facility with a wonderful group of professionals who took great care of me — ask me if I had removed my undershorts prior to the surgery. I was unaware that the facility had a No Undershorts in the Hospital Rule, but I complied nonetheless.
This conjures up a lot - a LOT - of disturbing images. And all the superlatives he's heaping on the doctors, the hospital, etc etc are wearying.
And while I’m questioning hospital procedure, what’s with the hospital gowns that feature a breast pocket? Of course the gowns are not meant to be stylish, but I couldn’t help think that if I had a nice matching handkerchief to put in that breast pocket, I would have looked a bit more dapper heading into the operating room.
Woah there, Mr. Seinfeld! What's up with airline peanuts?
Or at least as dapper as one can look with one’s hind end, sans undershorts, hanging out of a hospital gown.
I just threw up. In my mouth.
(Further research indicates that the pocket is called a “telemetry pocket” and is designed to hold a telemetry machine, which monitors whether or not one still has his undershorts on underneath the gown. It would have been funnier if it was called a “hoagie pocket” and one could carry around an extra sandwich.)
You know maybe - just maybe - Morsch's obsession with constantly eating large amounts of food is to blame for his dramatic physical deterioration. I wonder if he's ever considered that. And I like how he researches the pocket, but not what a meniscus is.
As you might expect, I have not been the most pleasant of patients. I insisted on going into work the day after the surgery and caught seven kinds of heck from The Blonde Accountant, the physician’s assistant, the butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker and Kukla, Fran and Ollie (if you’re counting that’s actually eight kinds of heck).
I'm not getting those last three references, but I'm guessing it's related to some kind of 60's sit-com.
So I went home after a few hours and then took the following day off to stay home with my leg elevated, the grump bone prominently displayed and griping at me the whole time.
It doesn't surprise me that, in addition to being a fat slot, Morch is also a huge crybaby. Suck it up! Rub some dirt on it!
By the way, crutches are no fun at all, so I have opted for a walking stick.
Good, that way you can throw your back out holding the cane.
It seems a little more cosmopolitan and when people ask, I do nothing to discourage the possibility that the cane conceals a sword, just in case Errol Flynn drops by and wants to start heckling me. (See, you have to be really old to get that joke.)
Number of people who asked Morsch if his cane conceals a sword: 0. Number of people amused by Errol Flynn reference: -1.
But I am slowly improving and hopefully will be out walking soon. In the meantime, I am more than happy to follow sound medical advice and return to tip-top physical health as soon as possible.
I thought he was grumpy about it... what changed? Shouldn't the title of the article have been "Morsch Happily Follows Sound Medical Advice"?
If that means no ironing for six weeks, then so be it.
You see that? Clever. See, Morsch doesn't WANT to do ironing. So even though it sounds like he's upset that he can't, he's really happy. That's some first-class humor column stuff right there.
Published: Wednesday, May 19, 2010
By Mike Morsch
Executive Editor
Emergence of ‘grump bone’ leaves him without a leg to stand on
Morsch recently underwent minor knee surgery. From that bit of information, I am guessing that he will present the "comical" idea of a "grump bone," in contrast to the "funny bone," because he knee hurts or some such. Let's see...
If the hip bone is connected to the thigh bone and the thigh bone is connected to the knee bone, then I can only assume that given the recent series of events in my life, the knee bone is connected to the … grump bone.
Delicious. Continue.
That would explain why I’m so cranky after knee surgery last week. Had I known that my post-surgery mood would be so sour, I would have asked the orthopedic surgeon to make an adjustment on the grump bone while he was fishing around inside my knee.
This is, I must say, a particularly lame premise. How is he going to get another six or eight paragraphs out of this? For the few people who were initially amused by the idea of a "grump bone," I would imagine it's already grown thin.
As a walker, I kind of need my knees to complete that particular activity.
"A walker"... that's like a fish bragging about being "a swimmer."
I walk between 20 and 25 miles a week, at what might be considered a fairly brisk pace for a lug of my girth. To provide some context, I usually time my walks with a calendar, so “brisk” is a relative term in this instance, measured not in minutes but in days.
I'm sorry, I hardly think that 20 to 25 miles in an entire week is all that great. I probably do that walking back and forth from the bathroom and the printer at work.
With that approach, one would think serious injuries would not be a concern. It’s walking, for criminny sakes. But over the past five years, I’ve blown out both knees and an Achilles tendon just walking around the park.
This might be a warning sign, like peeing your pants when you sneeze. Morsch is like the Toyota Prius of humans - overrated and full of defects.
Those are by no means pleasant injuries and it continues to baffle me how these injuries occur. Did I mention I was just walking?
Idea - you're fat and lazy. Other men your age are running marathons. Those men aren't shoving hot dogs down their throat every evening.
Of course, I shouldn’t be surprised. I’m the guy who threw his back out … ironing. That’s right, I was standing at the ironing board pressing a shirt several years ago and my back went out on me. I was in discomfort for several weeks because of an ironing mishap for crying out loud. I could not make that up if I tried.
That is sad. I mean seriously, that is sad. The slightest physical activity causes this man's body to fall apart.
So about six weeks ago, my right knee began barking at me during my walks. Since I had experienced the same thing five years ago on my left knee, I was pretty sure I knew what had happened.
Morsch also complained that walking on cement floors causes him pain. My mind boggles.
A visit to the orthopedic surgeon — Dr. Thomas Greene of North Penn Orthopaedic Associates in Lansdale, a swell fellow who it turns out is a whiz with the knife (a valuable skill for a surgeon) — confirmed what I already knew: a torn meniscus. I have no idea what that means — I thought Meniscus was the Roman god of knee-jerk reactions — but it did hurt like the dickens.
Hey-oh! Normally, with stupid, irrelevant things that he finds on the Internet, Morsch does some research. With something that directly relates to his health, he seems not to care. I'm beginning to see how he ended up like this.
Now my approach from the beginning was to get this surgery done as quickly as possible and get back outside for my walks. Two things I failed to consider: (1) I’m not as young as I used to be; (2) My knees are not as young as I used to be.
Obviously.
What this means is that my body responded differently to surgery this time than it did five years ago. For some reason, I don’t recall missing any work after the surgery and I’m pretty sure I was out walking within a few days afterward.
Would missing work even be necessary? I suspect that most of Morsch's day involves sitting in a chair and trying to jab one key at a time with his bloated hot dog fingers.
In reality, that’s not likely what happened five years ago after the first knee surgery but because I am older now, I forget a lot of things. And I forget that I forget those things.
He pops and tears things while walking; he throws his back out ironing; he completely forgets major events in his life. How has he survived this long?
And that in turn caused the grump bone to be front and center this time around.
The surgery itself was uneventful, although it did hurt like a sonofagun in the immediate aftermath. The doctor mentioned to The Blonde Accountant after the surgery that my knee looked relatively yucky (a medical term I suppose) once he got in there and took a look around. My guess is that all that damage occurred from long periods of standing over and ironing board.
I think you mean "an" ironing board. I would imagine that his knee contains 30% bone, 10% tendon, and 60% mustard and relish.
But the doc cleaned everything up. Of course, I had to wear a hospital gown for the procedure and I had several people that day at Lansdale Hospital — a fine facility with a wonderful group of professionals who took great care of me — ask me if I had removed my undershorts prior to the surgery. I was unaware that the facility had a No Undershorts in the Hospital Rule, but I complied nonetheless.
This conjures up a lot - a LOT - of disturbing images. And all the superlatives he's heaping on the doctors, the hospital, etc etc are wearying.
And while I’m questioning hospital procedure, what’s with the hospital gowns that feature a breast pocket? Of course the gowns are not meant to be stylish, but I couldn’t help think that if I had a nice matching handkerchief to put in that breast pocket, I would have looked a bit more dapper heading into the operating room.
Woah there, Mr. Seinfeld! What's up with airline peanuts?
Or at least as dapper as one can look with one’s hind end, sans undershorts, hanging out of a hospital gown.
I just threw up. In my mouth.
(Further research indicates that the pocket is called a “telemetry pocket” and is designed to hold a telemetry machine, which monitors whether or not one still has his undershorts on underneath the gown. It would have been funnier if it was called a “hoagie pocket” and one could carry around an extra sandwich.)
You know maybe - just maybe - Morsch's obsession with constantly eating large amounts of food is to blame for his dramatic physical deterioration. I wonder if he's ever considered that. And I like how he researches the pocket, but not what a meniscus is.
As you might expect, I have not been the most pleasant of patients. I insisted on going into work the day after the surgery and caught seven kinds of heck from The Blonde Accountant, the physician’s assistant, the butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker and Kukla, Fran and Ollie (if you’re counting that’s actually eight kinds of heck).
I'm not getting those last three references, but I'm guessing it's related to some kind of 60's sit-com.
So I went home after a few hours and then took the following day off to stay home with my leg elevated, the grump bone prominently displayed and griping at me the whole time.
It doesn't surprise me that, in addition to being a fat slot, Morch is also a huge crybaby. Suck it up! Rub some dirt on it!
By the way, crutches are no fun at all, so I have opted for a walking stick.
Good, that way you can throw your back out holding the cane.
It seems a little more cosmopolitan and when people ask, I do nothing to discourage the possibility that the cane conceals a sword, just in case Errol Flynn drops by and wants to start heckling me. (See, you have to be really old to get that joke.)
Number of people who asked Morsch if his cane conceals a sword: 0. Number of people amused by Errol Flynn reference: -1.
But I am slowly improving and hopefully will be out walking soon. In the meantime, I am more than happy to follow sound medical advice and return to tip-top physical health as soon as possible.
I thought he was grumpy about it... what changed? Shouldn't the title of the article have been "Morsch Happily Follows Sound Medical Advice"?
If that means no ironing for six weeks, then so be it.
You see that? Clever. See, Morsch doesn't WANT to do ironing. So even though it sounds like he's upset that he can't, he's really happy. That's some first-class humor column stuff right there.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Fact vs. Fiction
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
I'm done with these TV dramas
YES! We've heard Morsch's opinions on baseball... we've heard his opinions on novelty holidays and the Three Stooges... and now we'll be treated to his undoubtedly fascinating thoughts on prime-time dramas.
I’ve pretty much had it with television dramas.
Just in case you didn't get the idea from, you know, the title of the article.
In particular, my days of watching “Grey’s Anatomy” and its spinoff, “Private Practice,” as well as “Desperate Housewives” and “Brothers and Sisters,” are over.
"Grey's Anatomy" is still on the air? You could have fooled me.
Why? Well, too much drama for me. Duh, that’s why those shows are called dramas, huh?
Oh... so wait... is he admitting how pointless his own column is?
I really don’t have much invested in “Grey’s” or “Housewives.” If I miss those two, I don’t lose sleep. I like “Brothers and Sisters” because I like watching Sally Field and Rob Lowe perform. I go all the way back to Ms. Field’s film performance with Burt Reynolds in “Smokey and the Bandit” and I like Lowe’s character on “West Wing” several years ago.
Two things that are not a big surprise: Morsch likes the "zany" 70's hijinx of "Smokey and the Bandit," and he enjoys the leftist fantasy drama "West Wing."
And I started to follow “Private Practice” from its inception because of Kate Walsh (Dr. Addison Montgomery), who I had the opportunity to interview during the 2008 presidential campaign when she was in Montgomery County stumping for President Obama.
Fantastic. Not only does Morsch show his abject devotion to those who allow him to "interview" them (if his interviewing skills are like all of his other newspaper-related skills... well, you know what I'm getting at), but gee, a lib member of the press fawning over a Hollywood person stumping for Obama. More like Outta Cliche-field.
Ms. Walsh was very gracious and articulate during the interview. I would be remiss in my job if I also didn’t report that she is what we in journalism call “very humma humma” in the looks department. (Just doing my job there folks.)
I repeat - how in the world can this man be married? TWICE? Does he order these women from Albania or something?
But it was “Private Practice” that finally put me over the edge. In this year’s season finale, there was an accident (there are always accidents in TV dramas, which of course is no accident);
Hold the phone - you mean the fact that THINGS HAPPEN on TV is planned - as in, SCRIPTED??? Morsch has just blown the lid off this whole "drama" industry.
a pregnant teenage in the accident, forcing the doctors to choose between saving the baby or operating on the mother’s spinal injury so she would not lose the use of her legs; an engagement, ill-timed at best; all kinds of romantic feelings flying between the characters; and the death of one of the regular characters on the show.
Does Morsch watch "Lost"? From what I understand of the show's increasingly ridiculous plotline, it would take a paragraph three times that length to describe it.
All in one episode.
And what with memorizing the statistics of every Phillies player ever, there is precious little room in Morsch's brain for all those goings-on.
And then Lowe’s character on “Brothers and Sisters” died in a horrific multi-car crash in the same week as well.
I'm having a great time imagining Morsch spitting his beer and peanuts all over the place in fury: "Slow down! Too much happening! Need more pie fights!"
It was too much for me. Real life is difficult enough, filled with challenges and tragedies.
But no tragedy so terrible as the fictional death of a make-believe person played by Rob Lowe.
I am no longer am interested in being reminded that real life can stink.
"I am no longer am interested"... This may come as a shock to Morsch, but in "the biz" of writing things that will be published, it's customary to review your articles for horrible errors like these.
From here on out, I’m sticking to watching the Phillies on TV.
Oh for Pete's sake! I can't believe I didn't see this coming. I hate to break it to you Morsch, but the Phillies can lose games - tragedy! Players can be released - drama! - or retire - more tragedy! Old players, like the almost inhumanly noble Robin Roberts, can actually die. And those are real-life things. Isn't that worse?
If they stink, I’ll just turn the channel to something less dramatic and more cerebral . . . professional rasslin’.
Do you think that Morsch knows what an "ending" is? When they covered "beginning, middle and end" in school, did he miss the third day or something?
Labels: " Outta Leftfield, Brothers and Sisters, Desperate Housewives, Grey's Anatomy, Kate Walsh, Mike Morsch, Montgomery Newspapers, Private Practice, Rob Lowe
I'm done with these TV dramas
YES! We've heard Morsch's opinions on baseball... we've heard his opinions on novelty holidays and the Three Stooges... and now we'll be treated to his undoubtedly fascinating thoughts on prime-time dramas.
I’ve pretty much had it with television dramas.
Just in case you didn't get the idea from, you know, the title of the article.
In particular, my days of watching “Grey’s Anatomy” and its spinoff, “Private Practice,” as well as “Desperate Housewives” and “Brothers and Sisters,” are over.
"Grey's Anatomy" is still on the air? You could have fooled me.
Why? Well, too much drama for me. Duh, that’s why those shows are called dramas, huh?
Oh... so wait... is he admitting how pointless his own column is?
I really don’t have much invested in “Grey’s” or “Housewives.” If I miss those two, I don’t lose sleep. I like “Brothers and Sisters” because I like watching Sally Field and Rob Lowe perform. I go all the way back to Ms. Field’s film performance with Burt Reynolds in “Smokey and the Bandit” and I like Lowe’s character on “West Wing” several years ago.
Two things that are not a big surprise: Morsch likes the "zany" 70's hijinx of "Smokey and the Bandit," and he enjoys the leftist fantasy drama "West Wing."
And I started to follow “Private Practice” from its inception because of Kate Walsh (Dr. Addison Montgomery), who I had the opportunity to interview during the 2008 presidential campaign when she was in Montgomery County stumping for President Obama.
Fantastic. Not only does Morsch show his abject devotion to those who allow him to "interview" them (if his interviewing skills are like all of his other newspaper-related skills... well, you know what I'm getting at), but gee, a lib member of the press fawning over a Hollywood person stumping for Obama. More like Outta Cliche-field.
Ms. Walsh was very gracious and articulate during the interview. I would be remiss in my job if I also didn’t report that she is what we in journalism call “very humma humma” in the looks department. (Just doing my job there folks.)
I repeat - how in the world can this man be married? TWICE? Does he order these women from Albania or something?
But it was “Private Practice” that finally put me over the edge. In this year’s season finale, there was an accident (there are always accidents in TV dramas, which of course is no accident);
Hold the phone - you mean the fact that THINGS HAPPEN on TV is planned - as in, SCRIPTED??? Morsch has just blown the lid off this whole "drama" industry.
a pregnant teenage in the accident, forcing the doctors to choose between saving the baby or operating on the mother’s spinal injury so she would not lose the use of her legs; an engagement, ill-timed at best; all kinds of romantic feelings flying between the characters; and the death of one of the regular characters on the show.
Does Morsch watch "Lost"? From what I understand of the show's increasingly ridiculous plotline, it would take a paragraph three times that length to describe it.
All in one episode.
And what with memorizing the statistics of every Phillies player ever, there is precious little room in Morsch's brain for all those goings-on.
And then Lowe’s character on “Brothers and Sisters” died in a horrific multi-car crash in the same week as well.
I'm having a great time imagining Morsch spitting his beer and peanuts all over the place in fury: "Slow down! Too much happening! Need more pie fights!"
It was too much for me. Real life is difficult enough, filled with challenges and tragedies.
But no tragedy so terrible as the fictional death of a make-believe person played by Rob Lowe.
I am no longer am interested in being reminded that real life can stink.
"I am no longer am interested"... This may come as a shock to Morsch, but in "the biz" of writing things that will be published, it's customary to review your articles for horrible errors like these.
From here on out, I’m sticking to watching the Phillies on TV.
Oh for Pete's sake! I can't believe I didn't see this coming. I hate to break it to you Morsch, but the Phillies can lose games - tragedy! Players can be released - drama! - or retire - more tragedy! Old players, like the almost inhumanly noble Robin Roberts, can actually die. And those are real-life things. Isn't that worse?
If they stink, I’ll just turn the channel to something less dramatic and more cerebral . . . professional rasslin’.
Do you think that Morsch knows what an "ending" is? When they covered "beginning, middle and end" in school, did he miss the third day or something?
Labels: " Outta Leftfield, Brothers and Sisters, Desperate Housewives, Grey's Anatomy, Kate Walsh, Mike Morsch, Montgomery Newspapers, Private Practice, Rob Lowe
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Full Of It
Outta Leftfield: Here’s the real scoop on this ‘canine calling card’ issue
Published: Wednesday, May 12, 2010
By Mike Morsch
Executive Editor
All I had to do was read the headline to think: Uh-oh. The mix of "scoop" and "canine" indicates that we're in for a marathon of poop and poop-scooping jokes.
It was “National Scoop the Poop Week” a few weeks ago. I know, I missed it, too.
Running gag alert! This is terribly reminiscent of the "National Cheese Ball Day" article a few weeks back.
It turns out that this is a week devoted to encouraging pet owners to clean up after their pets. This is all fine and good because we should clean up after our pets. Not only is it the right thing to do, but it’s an environmentally prudent practice as well.
Is it? No pun intended, but it sounds a little bit like Morsch is talking out of his butt here. I have a feeling we'll be waiting for quite some time for Morsch's essay on the environmental impact of pet droppings.
But minimal research on my part — and really, when one is researching the scooping of poop, it’s probably best to keep said research to a minimum — revealed that there are actually two different weeks devoted to this activity.
Uh-oh... this is almost surely the beginning of some long, pointless repetition of stuff Morsch found on the Internet.
According to the Association of Professional Animal Waste Specialists (aPaws), “International Pooper Scooper Week” is April 1-7. This, of course, has nothing to do with April Fools’ Day even through the two “holidays” cross paths with each other.
Is that a joke?
But I also found evidence that “National Scoop the Poop Week” is from April 24-30 because that is the time “between the storms of winter and the backyard barbecues of summer for dog owners to catch up on cleaning up all those canine calling cards that have accumulated during the winter months.” I’m not sure to whom I should attribute that quote, but it is apparent that the person is an expert poop scooper.
I don't know how many uses of the words "poop" and "scoop" I can take. He's going at a rate of two per paragraph.
Given the fact that there seems to be two weeks devoted to this activity, I think it’s safe to conclude that April is a poopie month. (My apologies to all of you with April birthdays.)
A man of a certain age - say, over 9 - shouldn't be saying "poopie." It's just wrong.
But when pondering the aforementioned information, two things come immediately to mind, one a question and one a comment: (1) What coursework does one have to complete to be designated as a “professional” animal waste specialist?
I don't know that anyone claims to be an animal waste specialist. Did anyone claim that as their field of study? Or is he just making this up?
(2) And I do believe that referring to what my dog does in the yard as a “canine calling card” exhibits a relatively high level of creativity by the person who coined that phrase.
"Relatively" being the key phrase. Relative to Morsch, the guy is the God of Comedy.
One need look no further than Washington, D.C., I suppose, to find a large group of people who would qualify as “professional waste specialists,” animal or otherwise. And really, from my personal experience, there doesn’t seem to be any great talent required to bending over and picking up dog doo out of the front yard, although if I do want to interject some panache into the proceedings, I will sometimes scoop while speaking with a Maurice Chevalier accent (and a bad one, at that).
... What? That was not only a painfully long sentence, but a painfully lame one as well.
As an aside,
Oh lord.
I’ve always considered the compromising positions that, dogs especially, have to put themselves in to deposit a calling card on the lawn as embarrassing for the animal. They look so vulnerable and in need of privacy that I can’t believe that somebody somewhere along the line hasn’t invented a doggie outhouse or something that would at least interject some dignity to the proceedings.
Animals aren't embarassed or have a need for privacy. Do they look embarassed when they hump your guest's leg? That's also two paragraphs ending with "interject X to the proceedings."
Maybe somebody has invented such a thing, but really, I’ve already spent too much valuable research time educating myself on “National Scoop the Poop Week” that I have precious little desire left to research “doggie outhouses.”
You've also spent too much of our valuable living time on this column.
Aside from all the humor that this topic provides,
Humor? This topic provided humor? Did I miss something?
the environmental aspect is worth noting. According to the Centers for Disease Control, independent laboratories and medical experts, there is an estimated 10 million tons of doggie doo produced annually by 80 million dogs in the United States.
How many million tons are produced by cattle and livestock? Any analysis of their environmental impact?
Ladies and gentlemen, we already are scooping a whole lot of poochie poo.
Disgusting. I hate his euphemisms for dog crap.
It’s amazing to me that April is the only month in which we are trying to bring awareness to the issue. The problem is, an increasing amount of the wagglers’ waste is ending up in drinking water, in lakes and rivers, on beaches in parks and campgrounds and in yards. This makes sense because those are places where a lot of people and a lot of dogs like to hang out.
Until the cholera epidemic breaks out, I don't see how this is a problem. I'd also like to know how stray dog poop is making its way into our "drinking water." I also like how he treated the Cheese Ball Day thing as a joke, but he's taking this one "seriously."
The nonprofit aPaws organization is serious about addressing this problem. On its website, it suggests that if a pet owner is considering hiring a professional animal waste specialist, he/she should get the best pooper scooper around, a person who meets the organization’s high standards.
I am at the point where I don't know whether to take this seriously or not.
I giggle at the hiring of the aforementioned specialist not because of the admirable mission of protecting the environment but at the fact that I always seem to have a Beavis and Butthead type of reaction on the subject of dog poo.
I don't think Beavis and Butthead did much "giggling," and they also weren't 50-year-old newspaper editors, but I won't split hairs.
It seems to me that this subject is made to order for those with a sense of humor.
Yes - and when you find such a person, let me know.
The difference being that a lighter touch could actually draw more attention to a serious environmental issue.
What would be a "lighter touch"? What's the "serious environmental issue"?
And that’s the real scoop here.
I'm not going to touch how lame the "scoop" pun is. But what exactly is "the scoop"? Poop is funny, but is also serious? How does this... what does this... oh never mind.
Published: Wednesday, May 12, 2010
By Mike Morsch
Executive Editor
All I had to do was read the headline to think: Uh-oh. The mix of "scoop" and "canine" indicates that we're in for a marathon of poop and poop-scooping jokes.
It was “National Scoop the Poop Week” a few weeks ago. I know, I missed it, too.
Running gag alert! This is terribly reminiscent of the "National Cheese Ball Day" article a few weeks back.
It turns out that this is a week devoted to encouraging pet owners to clean up after their pets. This is all fine and good because we should clean up after our pets. Not only is it the right thing to do, but it’s an environmentally prudent practice as well.
Is it? No pun intended, but it sounds a little bit like Morsch is talking out of his butt here. I have a feeling we'll be waiting for quite some time for Morsch's essay on the environmental impact of pet droppings.
But minimal research on my part — and really, when one is researching the scooping of poop, it’s probably best to keep said research to a minimum — revealed that there are actually two different weeks devoted to this activity.
Uh-oh... this is almost surely the beginning of some long, pointless repetition of stuff Morsch found on the Internet.
According to the Association of Professional Animal Waste Specialists (aPaws), “International Pooper Scooper Week” is April 1-7. This, of course, has nothing to do with April Fools’ Day even through the two “holidays” cross paths with each other.
Is that a joke?
But I also found evidence that “National Scoop the Poop Week” is from April 24-30 because that is the time “between the storms of winter and the backyard barbecues of summer for dog owners to catch up on cleaning up all those canine calling cards that have accumulated during the winter months.” I’m not sure to whom I should attribute that quote, but it is apparent that the person is an expert poop scooper.
I don't know how many uses of the words "poop" and "scoop" I can take. He's going at a rate of two per paragraph.
Given the fact that there seems to be two weeks devoted to this activity, I think it’s safe to conclude that April is a poopie month. (My apologies to all of you with April birthdays.)
A man of a certain age - say, over 9 - shouldn't be saying "poopie." It's just wrong.
But when pondering the aforementioned information, two things come immediately to mind, one a question and one a comment: (1) What coursework does one have to complete to be designated as a “professional” animal waste specialist?
I don't know that anyone claims to be an animal waste specialist. Did anyone claim that as their field of study? Or is he just making this up?
(2) And I do believe that referring to what my dog does in the yard as a “canine calling card” exhibits a relatively high level of creativity by the person who coined that phrase.
"Relatively" being the key phrase. Relative to Morsch, the guy is the God of Comedy.
One need look no further than Washington, D.C., I suppose, to find a large group of people who would qualify as “professional waste specialists,” animal or otherwise. And really, from my personal experience, there doesn’t seem to be any great talent required to bending over and picking up dog doo out of the front yard, although if I do want to interject some panache into the proceedings, I will sometimes scoop while speaking with a Maurice Chevalier accent (and a bad one, at that).
... What? That was not only a painfully long sentence, but a painfully lame one as well.
As an aside,
Oh lord.
I’ve always considered the compromising positions that, dogs especially, have to put themselves in to deposit a calling card on the lawn as embarrassing for the animal. They look so vulnerable and in need of privacy that I can’t believe that somebody somewhere along the line hasn’t invented a doggie outhouse or something that would at least interject some dignity to the proceedings.
Animals aren't embarassed or have a need for privacy. Do they look embarassed when they hump your guest's leg? That's also two paragraphs ending with "interject X to the proceedings."
Maybe somebody has invented such a thing, but really, I’ve already spent too much valuable research time educating myself on “National Scoop the Poop Week” that I have precious little desire left to research “doggie outhouses.”
You've also spent too much of our valuable living time on this column.
Aside from all the humor that this topic provides,
Humor? This topic provided humor? Did I miss something?
the environmental aspect is worth noting. According to the Centers for Disease Control, independent laboratories and medical experts, there is an estimated 10 million tons of doggie doo produced annually by 80 million dogs in the United States.
How many million tons are produced by cattle and livestock? Any analysis of their environmental impact?
Ladies and gentlemen, we already are scooping a whole lot of poochie poo.
Disgusting. I hate his euphemisms for dog crap.
It’s amazing to me that April is the only month in which we are trying to bring awareness to the issue. The problem is, an increasing amount of the wagglers’ waste is ending up in drinking water, in lakes and rivers, on beaches in parks and campgrounds and in yards. This makes sense because those are places where a lot of people and a lot of dogs like to hang out.
Until the cholera epidemic breaks out, I don't see how this is a problem. I'd also like to know how stray dog poop is making its way into our "drinking water." I also like how he treated the Cheese Ball Day thing as a joke, but he's taking this one "seriously."
The nonprofit aPaws organization is serious about addressing this problem. On its website, it suggests that if a pet owner is considering hiring a professional animal waste specialist, he/she should get the best pooper scooper around, a person who meets the organization’s high standards.
I am at the point where I don't know whether to take this seriously or not.
I giggle at the hiring of the aforementioned specialist not because of the admirable mission of protecting the environment but at the fact that I always seem to have a Beavis and Butthead type of reaction on the subject of dog poo.
I don't think Beavis and Butthead did much "giggling," and they also weren't 50-year-old newspaper editors, but I won't split hairs.
It seems to me that this subject is made to order for those with a sense of humor.
Yes - and when you find such a person, let me know.
The difference being that a lighter touch could actually draw more attention to a serious environmental issue.
What would be a "lighter touch"? What's the "serious environmental issue"?
And that’s the real scoop here.
I'm not going to touch how lame the "scoop" pun is. But what exactly is "the scoop"? Poop is funny, but is also serious? How does this... what does this... oh never mind.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Surprise! Morsch Writes about The Phillies
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
The class and grace of Robin Roberts
Can it be considered an "unnecessary baseball reference" when an entire column is about baseball? I think it can - we've pretty much hit the critical mass for baseball references. From here on out, any union of Outta Leftfield and baseball is unnecessary.
It was in the mid-1990s and Robin Roberts was appearing at an autograph signing event, the proceeds of which would benefit something called the Bottomley-Ruffing-Schalk Baseball Museum in the little central Illinois town of Nokomis, a spot on the map just outside the state capital of Springfield.
The only thing missing from this paragraph is the phrase "I was but a sapling then, green in youth." Are we witnessing the beginning another confusing Morsch lumber down memory lane?
Named after National Baseball Hall of Famers Jim Bottomley, Red Ruffing and Ray Schalk, the museum honors people from the central Illinois area who have contributed to baseball in some significant manner.
Useless information. Let's try again.
Roberts, the Hall of Fame Phillies pitcher, was born in nearby Springfield and would occasionally go back to his hometown area for events such as this one.
We're about a quarter of the way through your column, sir. Time to wrap up the prologue.
The weather was uncomfortably hot that day, like many summer days in central Illinois. The small museum — which lacked air conditioning — couldn’t accommodate the overflowing crowd that a hall of famer, and a local boy at that, had drawn. Fans eager for Roberts’ signature had crowded toward the table where he sat, making it even hotter and more uncomfortable than it already was.
It's laughable to see Morsch, Mr. Beer and Hot Dogs and Guys-Are-Sloppy and Baseball and Three Stooges, trying to actually write something. It's like watching a dog try to do long division.
I had met Mr. Roberts a few times before that day in the museum. At that point in my career, I had no idea I would move from central Illinois to the Philadelphia area and would have many more occasions to be in his company and interview him for stories I was writing.
We've covered this absolutely unremarkable fact before. Wow, you moved somewhere that you heard of before. I recently moved to Quakertown. Who would have thought?
Like that day in Illinois, Mr. Roberts always handled himself with grace and class, even under trying circumstances.
Even though it was a hot day, Robin Roberts still showed up at a public event. They really broke the mold when they made him.
He signed every autograph request, and it became quite a windfall for the tiny museum out in the middle of nowhere. I remember thinking at the time that the ex-player was the epitome of grace under pressure.
A kind and generous thing to do, no doubt. But really? THIS is the story you choose to highlight someone's apparently legendary class and grace?
Once I moved out here, Mr. Roberts would occasionally show up in the Ambler area, mostly in October for a golf outing at Limekiln Golf Course, owned by another Whiz Kid, Curt Simmons. Although I’m not a golfer, there were a few occasions before tee-off where I got sit in the golf course clubhouse and listen to some baseball stories.
What is he doing, just camping out in the clubhouse and hoping that a former baseball player will walk in? Roberts probably dreaded the days when his peaceful round of golf would be disrupted by some loitering oaf. Did the newspaper know how Morsch was spending his time?
I crossed paths again with Mr. Roberts at the National Constitution Center in 2008 when it hosted a traveling exhibit from the National Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown. It was there that I got a chance to interview him for a story on the exhibit that appeared in Montgomery Newspapers.
This is a truly pathetic "chain" of "events." What's left out is that there are probably, like, ten years between these meetings. I saw a Maynard Ferguson concert when I was in 5th Grade. I crossed paths with him again at a concert when I was a junior in high school. He showed grace and class by showing up to both events. Maybe I should write my own column...
His baseball career ended in the mid-1960s and I never got a chance to see him pitch. But he was a hall of famer in every sense of the word, especially off the field. Never in the dozen or so times I was in his company did he have a cross word for anybody or refuse an autograph request.
Except after Morsch left, when Mr. Roberts would invariably remark, "Who IS that fat, stupid bastard?" And I'm still trying to figure out the "he was a hall of famer... especially off the field." As though his 286 wins and his 305 complete games have nothing to do with it. No, they let him in because he's a nice guy and they figured he'd probably sign a lot of autographs in the future.
Robin Roberts died last week in his Florida home at age 83. He was a first-class player and a first-class human being. Not only was he one of my favorite baseball players, he’s one of my favorite people of all time.
Ooh, the kicker! Robin Roberts was a nice guy, and guess what? He's DEAD. I really enjoy the superlative "he's one of my favorite people of all time" bit. Right up there with Jesus, George Washington and Thomas Edison, no doubt. It reminds me of that old Chris Farley bit on SNL when he'd interview a celebrity and say stuff like, "Tonight my guest is Jeff Daniels, one of the greatest actors... around I guess?"
Only the good die young, except for the ones who live to be really old.
Labels: " Outta Leftfield, Mike Morsch, Montgomery Newspapers, National Baseball Hall of Fame, Robin Roberts
Not just the Baseball Hall of Fame, mind you - the National Baseball Hall of Fame. Also, please note the " before the Outta Leftfield label. Is this a typo? Whatever it is, it's screwing up his labels... two columns now appear only under "Outta Leftfield.
The class and grace of Robin Roberts
Can it be considered an "unnecessary baseball reference" when an entire column is about baseball? I think it can - we've pretty much hit the critical mass for baseball references. From here on out, any union of Outta Leftfield and baseball is unnecessary.
It was in the mid-1990s and Robin Roberts was appearing at an autograph signing event, the proceeds of which would benefit something called the Bottomley-Ruffing-Schalk Baseball Museum in the little central Illinois town of Nokomis, a spot on the map just outside the state capital of Springfield.
The only thing missing from this paragraph is the phrase "I was but a sapling then, green in youth." Are we witnessing the beginning another confusing Morsch lumber down memory lane?
Named after National Baseball Hall of Famers Jim Bottomley, Red Ruffing and Ray Schalk, the museum honors people from the central Illinois area who have contributed to baseball in some significant manner.
Useless information. Let's try again.
Roberts, the Hall of Fame Phillies pitcher, was born in nearby Springfield and would occasionally go back to his hometown area for events such as this one.
We're about a quarter of the way through your column, sir. Time to wrap up the prologue.
The weather was uncomfortably hot that day, like many summer days in central Illinois. The small museum — which lacked air conditioning — couldn’t accommodate the overflowing crowd that a hall of famer, and a local boy at that, had drawn. Fans eager for Roberts’ signature had crowded toward the table where he sat, making it even hotter and more uncomfortable than it already was.
It's laughable to see Morsch, Mr. Beer and Hot Dogs and Guys-Are-Sloppy and Baseball and Three Stooges, trying to actually write something. It's like watching a dog try to do long division.
I had met Mr. Roberts a few times before that day in the museum. At that point in my career, I had no idea I would move from central Illinois to the Philadelphia area and would have many more occasions to be in his company and interview him for stories I was writing.
We've covered this absolutely unremarkable fact before. Wow, you moved somewhere that you heard of before. I recently moved to Quakertown. Who would have thought?
Like that day in Illinois, Mr. Roberts always handled himself with grace and class, even under trying circumstances.
Even though it was a hot day, Robin Roberts still showed up at a public event. They really broke the mold when they made him.
He signed every autograph request, and it became quite a windfall for the tiny museum out in the middle of nowhere. I remember thinking at the time that the ex-player was the epitome of grace under pressure.
A kind and generous thing to do, no doubt. But really? THIS is the story you choose to highlight someone's apparently legendary class and grace?
Once I moved out here, Mr. Roberts would occasionally show up in the Ambler area, mostly in October for a golf outing at Limekiln Golf Course, owned by another Whiz Kid, Curt Simmons. Although I’m not a golfer, there were a few occasions before tee-off where I got sit in the golf course clubhouse and listen to some baseball stories.
What is he doing, just camping out in the clubhouse and hoping that a former baseball player will walk in? Roberts probably dreaded the days when his peaceful round of golf would be disrupted by some loitering oaf. Did the newspaper know how Morsch was spending his time?
I crossed paths again with Mr. Roberts at the National Constitution Center in 2008 when it hosted a traveling exhibit from the National Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown. It was there that I got a chance to interview him for a story on the exhibit that appeared in Montgomery Newspapers.
This is a truly pathetic "chain" of "events." What's left out is that there are probably, like, ten years between these meetings. I saw a Maynard Ferguson concert when I was in 5th Grade. I crossed paths with him again at a concert when I was a junior in high school. He showed grace and class by showing up to both events. Maybe I should write my own column...
His baseball career ended in the mid-1960s and I never got a chance to see him pitch. But he was a hall of famer in every sense of the word, especially off the field. Never in the dozen or so times I was in his company did he have a cross word for anybody or refuse an autograph request.
Except after Morsch left, when Mr. Roberts would invariably remark, "Who IS that fat, stupid bastard?" And I'm still trying to figure out the "he was a hall of famer... especially off the field." As though his 286 wins and his 305 complete games have nothing to do with it. No, they let him in because he's a nice guy and they figured he'd probably sign a lot of autographs in the future.
Robin Roberts died last week in his Florida home at age 83. He was a first-class player and a first-class human being. Not only was he one of my favorite baseball players, he’s one of my favorite people of all time.
Ooh, the kicker! Robin Roberts was a nice guy, and guess what? He's DEAD. I really enjoy the superlative "he's one of my favorite people of all time" bit. Right up there with Jesus, George Washington and Thomas Edison, no doubt. It reminds me of that old Chris Farley bit on SNL when he'd interview a celebrity and say stuff like, "Tonight my guest is Jeff Daniels, one of the greatest actors... around I guess?"
Only the good die young, except for the ones who live to be really old.
Labels: " Outta Leftfield, Mike Morsch, Montgomery Newspapers, National Baseball Hall of Fame, Robin Roberts
Not just the Baseball Hall of Fame, mind you - the National Baseball Hall of Fame. Also, please note the " before the Outta Leftfield label. Is this a typo? Whatever it is, it's screwing up his labels... two columns now appear only under "Outta Leftfield.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Redundancy
Robin Roberts was truly a special man. Sitting in right field today, hearing the news, I knew the Phils would win today.
7:51 PM May 6th via web
Indeed? What do you think influenced the game more, Mr. Morsch - the fact that an old baseball player died, or the fact that Roy Halladay and his 1.45 ERA were starting?
Today, sitting at work, I knew I wanted to point that out today.
7:51 PM May 6th via web
Indeed? What do you think influenced the game more, Mr. Morsch - the fact that an old baseball player died, or the fact that Roy Halladay and his 1.45 ERA were starting?
Today, sitting at work, I knew I wanted to point that out today.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Pre-emptive Promise Breaking
Souderton, my home town, is run by greedy, lying incompetents. Witness an item published on the Independent:
Souderton approves $2.5 million pool loan
The loan size was increased from the originally proposed $2 million
Of course. Borough Council never met a debt it didn't want to increase. Now apparently, Council plans to use that extra $500,000 as an "emergency" fund in case costs go over estimate (which they inevitably will).
“It’s our responsibility to not tap into that half million,” [Council President Brian] Goshow said.
Councilman Steven Toy echoed Goshow’s statements, and has no plans to use the money for the pool project unless it is absolutely necessary.
“I don’t hear anybody saying they want to use that money,” Toy said. “It’s contingency. That’s all it is.”
Prediction: Souderton will use the extra $500,000. All of it. If not more. They'll blow through it like a hooker through dope.
The only other item of interest in the article is the resignation of smug douchebag Councilman Jonathan Gardenier due to a "job relocation," making his only significant act on Council the institution of a tax on people who work in the Borough, breaking his campaign promise not to raise taxes during his first two years on Council. Way to waste yet another vote, Souderton.
Souderton approves $2.5 million pool loan
The loan size was increased from the originally proposed $2 million
Of course. Borough Council never met a debt it didn't want to increase. Now apparently, Council plans to use that extra $500,000 as an "emergency" fund in case costs go over estimate (which they inevitably will).
“It’s our responsibility to not tap into that half million,” [Council President Brian] Goshow said.
Councilman Steven Toy echoed Goshow’s statements, and has no plans to use the money for the pool project unless it is absolutely necessary.
“I don’t hear anybody saying they want to use that money,” Toy said. “It’s contingency. That’s all it is.”
Prediction: Souderton will use the extra $500,000. All of it. If not more. They'll blow through it like a hooker through dope.
The only other item of interest in the article is the resignation of smug douchebag Councilman Jonathan Gardenier due to a "job relocation," making his only significant act on Council the institution of a tax on people who work in the Borough, breaking his campaign promise not to raise taxes during his first two years on Council. Way to waste yet another vote, Souderton.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Surprise! Morsch Writes about The Three Stooges
Outta Leftfield: Getting creamed in a pie fight proves irresistible to knuckleheads
Published: Wednesday, May 05, 2010
By Mike Morsch
Executive Editor
A couple bets, without reading another word of this latest travesty: this article will contain at least one Three Stooges reference, and one of the titular knuckleheads will be Morsch himself. Let's see how well I know this guy.
One just doesn’t see a good pie fight anymore. In fact, one doesn’t usually see a pie fight at all, let alone a good one.
Has one ever seen an actual pie fight outside a movie or comedy sketch?
About the only place one can take in a pie fight these days is by watching the old Three Stooges films. Ya gotta admit, those guys really knew how to hurl a dessert (as well as various other fruits and farm implements).
Bingo. As Morsch himself might say, I'm batting .500 so far.
But we pie fight aficionados who live in this area are lucky. We have the Stoogeum — a shrine to everything knuckleheadish — right here in Spring House. In addition, the Fort Washington Holiday Inn has played host to the annual Three Stooges Fan Club convention for several years.
How many articles can you possibly squeeze out of the Three Stooges? A mere mortal might only be able to generate one or two, but Morsch is literally making a living on them.
So if a pie fight was going to break out anywhere, it would be right here in our own backyard.
Which is exactly what happened Sunday at the Stoogeum. Stooges impersonators — Moe (Jay Novelli of Hamilton, N.J.); Larry (Josh Silverman of Fairfax, Va.); and Curly (Jay Montagna of Carneys Point, N.J.) — hit various volunteers right in the mush with about three dozen shaving cream pies.
"Right in the mush"? What part of the human body is known as "the mush"?
At first, I was a little surprised that people would actually volunteer to get creamed with the pies. But as I watched Stooges fan after Stooges fan line up to get whacked with the pies, I found myself wanting to get in on it.
This paragraph makes me sad, somehow. First, it's a bad sign for humanity that there are so many Three Stooges fans still active. Second, I'm not surprised at all that Morsch wants take the inevitable pie to the face, which makes this yet another example of Morsch's dishonesty both with himself and with his audience.
Even more amazing to me was that both young and old women were stepping up to get “the treatment.” Guys are born knuckleheads, and as a guy, I understand the appeal of the pie fight. But women?
Writers are supposed to observe the world around them and avoid cliches. Morsch observes the TV in front of him and eagerly laps up the cliches it spews forth.
What an endearing legacy of tomfoolery.
What, you mean, this column?
Decades after the deaths of the Stooges, there are still fans out there who would willingly take a shaving cream pie in the face from Stooges impersonators … and actually like it.
Oh. It strikes me that this whole "pie fight" concept is a little diluted by the fact that they're "shaving cream pies" instead of apple or custard or something.
I find that hilarious. Do you think Moe, Larry and Curly were sitting around one day back in the 1930s and 1940s thinking up gags for their films and somebody said, “Hey, these pie fights are so great that people who aren’t even born yet will want to get hit in the face with a pie someday.”
No. No, I don't think so. Somehow I don't think Moe, Larry and Curly literally invented the concept of hitting someone with a pie. Did they also develop the eye-poke and the shin-kick?
I’d like to think they were that savvy. They certainly were silly enough to ponder the possibility.
They probably didn't care. They were probably more concerned with cranking out the next cheapy as quickly as possible so they could keep their studio jobs one more year.
The first genuine pie fight the Stooges had on film was in the 1941 short film, “In The Sweet Pie and Pie,” the 58th short subject of the 190 the boys made for Columbia Pictures between 1934 and 1959.
As was common for the Stooges in many of their films, the storyline placed them in a hoity-toity formal situation that got out of hand. And then the pies would fly.
Ah, some classic Useless Morsch Facts, topped off by the redundant use of both "common" and "in many of."
According to Larry Fine: “Sometimes we would run out of pies, so the prop man would sweep up the pie goop off the floor, complete with nails, splinters, and tacks. Another problem was pretending you didn’t know a pie was coming your way. To solve this, Jules [producer/director Jules White] would tell me ‘Now Larry, Moe is going to smack you with a pie on the count of three.’ Then Jules would tell Moe, ‘Hit Larry on the count of two!’ So when it came time to count, I never got to three, because Moe crowned me with a pie!”
These might be some interesting tidbits, but not for the comedy column that this purports to be.
My first thought after reading that description from Larry is, boy I would have liked to been on the set the day of that pie fight. It sounds like so much fun, which may explain why people wanted to engage in the shenanigans Sunday at the Stoogeum.
Really? You want to get hit in the face with used pie goop filled with nails, splinters and tacks? Really? And have it hit you when you're unprepared? Really, Morsch? I think Mr. Fine's story was to illustrate how these crazy-looking pie fights weren't all sunshine and farts. But of course, through his nostalgia-tinted glasses, MM completely misses the point.
Alas, I was in reporter mode and not knucklehead mode (OK, you wise guys, so maybe there is no difference there) and I did not participate in the pie fight, as much as I would have liked to. But plenty of people did, and it looked like a tremendous amount of fun (check out our online video of the weekend Stooges events).
That's actually a bit surprising. After all, what was Morsch really "reporting" on? It's not like whatever crappy article on the Stoogeum he churns out is going to be Pulitzer Prize material. Also, does this count as Morsch identifying himself as a knucklehead? Can I claim I went 2 for 2 on my predictions?
I called The Blonde Accountant on the way home.
“I could have used your help today. There was a pie fight at the Stoogeum and you could have taken pictures and videos while I got whacked with a pie,” I said.
“Uh … Ok … I guess,” she responded.
Question: is there really a "Blonde Accountant"? And if so, does he really have conversations with her? Because every interaction they have is horribly stilted and full of Morsch-esque comedy. Almost as though he made it up...
She apparently doesn’t appreciate just how funny a pie fight can be. I will work on enlightening her and, of course, you’ll need to wish me luck in that regard. She is not exactly a pie fight kind of wife.
If it happens again at next year’s convention, I’m in. For me, it will be easy as pie.
So at next year's convention, you won't be in reporter mode? How will next year be different than this year?
And I cannot believe he used "easy as pie." I mean, I can believe it. This is Mike Morsch. But I can't believe that someone writing a humor column about pie can use the phrase "easy as pie" and actually think it's a funny way to end the article.
I'm sure that somewhere in America, an actually funny person is sitting there, unpublished and unknown, with columns and ideas that are ten times funnier than anything Morsch has ever dreamed. Does that seem right to you?
Published: Wednesday, May 05, 2010
By Mike Morsch
Executive Editor
A couple bets, without reading another word of this latest travesty: this article will contain at least one Three Stooges reference, and one of the titular knuckleheads will be Morsch himself. Let's see how well I know this guy.
One just doesn’t see a good pie fight anymore. In fact, one doesn’t usually see a pie fight at all, let alone a good one.
Has one ever seen an actual pie fight outside a movie or comedy sketch?
About the only place one can take in a pie fight these days is by watching the old Three Stooges films. Ya gotta admit, those guys really knew how to hurl a dessert (as well as various other fruits and farm implements).
Bingo. As Morsch himself might say, I'm batting .500 so far.
But we pie fight aficionados who live in this area are lucky. We have the Stoogeum — a shrine to everything knuckleheadish — right here in Spring House. In addition, the Fort Washington Holiday Inn has played host to the annual Three Stooges Fan Club convention for several years.
How many articles can you possibly squeeze out of the Three Stooges? A mere mortal might only be able to generate one or two, but Morsch is literally making a living on them.
So if a pie fight was going to break out anywhere, it would be right here in our own backyard.
Which is exactly what happened Sunday at the Stoogeum. Stooges impersonators — Moe (Jay Novelli of Hamilton, N.J.); Larry (Josh Silverman of Fairfax, Va.); and Curly (Jay Montagna of Carneys Point, N.J.) — hit various volunteers right in the mush with about three dozen shaving cream pies.
"Right in the mush"? What part of the human body is known as "the mush"?
At first, I was a little surprised that people would actually volunteer to get creamed with the pies. But as I watched Stooges fan after Stooges fan line up to get whacked with the pies, I found myself wanting to get in on it.
This paragraph makes me sad, somehow. First, it's a bad sign for humanity that there are so many Three Stooges fans still active. Second, I'm not surprised at all that Morsch wants take the inevitable pie to the face, which makes this yet another example of Morsch's dishonesty both with himself and with his audience.
Even more amazing to me was that both young and old women were stepping up to get “the treatment.” Guys are born knuckleheads, and as a guy, I understand the appeal of the pie fight. But women?
Writers are supposed to observe the world around them and avoid cliches. Morsch observes the TV in front of him and eagerly laps up the cliches it spews forth.
What an endearing legacy of tomfoolery.
What, you mean, this column?
Decades after the deaths of the Stooges, there are still fans out there who would willingly take a shaving cream pie in the face from Stooges impersonators … and actually like it.
Oh. It strikes me that this whole "pie fight" concept is a little diluted by the fact that they're "shaving cream pies" instead of apple or custard or something.
I find that hilarious. Do you think Moe, Larry and Curly were sitting around one day back in the 1930s and 1940s thinking up gags for their films and somebody said, “Hey, these pie fights are so great that people who aren’t even born yet will want to get hit in the face with a pie someday.”
No. No, I don't think so. Somehow I don't think Moe, Larry and Curly literally invented the concept of hitting someone with a pie. Did they also develop the eye-poke and the shin-kick?
I’d like to think they were that savvy. They certainly were silly enough to ponder the possibility.
They probably didn't care. They were probably more concerned with cranking out the next cheapy as quickly as possible so they could keep their studio jobs one more year.
The first genuine pie fight the Stooges had on film was in the 1941 short film, “In The Sweet Pie and Pie,” the 58th short subject of the 190 the boys made for Columbia Pictures between 1934 and 1959.
As was common for the Stooges in many of their films, the storyline placed them in a hoity-toity formal situation that got out of hand. And then the pies would fly.
Ah, some classic Useless Morsch Facts, topped off by the redundant use of both "common" and "in many of."
According to Larry Fine: “Sometimes we would run out of pies, so the prop man would sweep up the pie goop off the floor, complete with nails, splinters, and tacks. Another problem was pretending you didn’t know a pie was coming your way. To solve this, Jules [producer/director Jules White] would tell me ‘Now Larry, Moe is going to smack you with a pie on the count of three.’ Then Jules would tell Moe, ‘Hit Larry on the count of two!’ So when it came time to count, I never got to three, because Moe crowned me with a pie!”
These might be some interesting tidbits, but not for the comedy column that this purports to be.
My first thought after reading that description from Larry is, boy I would have liked to been on the set the day of that pie fight. It sounds like so much fun, which may explain why people wanted to engage in the shenanigans Sunday at the Stoogeum.
Really? You want to get hit in the face with used pie goop filled with nails, splinters and tacks? Really? And have it hit you when you're unprepared? Really, Morsch? I think Mr. Fine's story was to illustrate how these crazy-looking pie fights weren't all sunshine and farts. But of course, through his nostalgia-tinted glasses, MM completely misses the point.
Alas, I was in reporter mode and not knucklehead mode (OK, you wise guys, so maybe there is no difference there) and I did not participate in the pie fight, as much as I would have liked to. But plenty of people did, and it looked like a tremendous amount of fun (check out our online video of the weekend Stooges events).
That's actually a bit surprising. After all, what was Morsch really "reporting" on? It's not like whatever crappy article on the Stoogeum he churns out is going to be Pulitzer Prize material. Also, does this count as Morsch identifying himself as a knucklehead? Can I claim I went 2 for 2 on my predictions?
I called The Blonde Accountant on the way home.
“I could have used your help today. There was a pie fight at the Stoogeum and you could have taken pictures and videos while I got whacked with a pie,” I said.
“Uh … Ok … I guess,” she responded.
Question: is there really a "Blonde Accountant"? And if so, does he really have conversations with her? Because every interaction they have is horribly stilted and full of Morsch-esque comedy. Almost as though he made it up...
She apparently doesn’t appreciate just how funny a pie fight can be. I will work on enlightening her and, of course, you’ll need to wish me luck in that regard. She is not exactly a pie fight kind of wife.
If it happens again at next year’s convention, I’m in. For me, it will be easy as pie.
So at next year's convention, you won't be in reporter mode? How will next year be different than this year?
And I cannot believe he used "easy as pie." I mean, I can believe it. This is Mike Morsch. But I can't believe that someone writing a humor column about pie can use the phrase "easy as pie" and actually think it's a funny way to end the article.
I'm sure that somewhere in America, an actually funny person is sitting there, unpublished and unknown, with columns and ideas that are ten times funnier than anything Morsch has ever dreamed. Does that seem right to you?
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Baseball Baffles Baseball Fan
For a guy who "loves" baseball, Morch seems to know very little about it. Witness this Twitter post:
LaRussa bats the pitcher eighth, which does absolutely nothing except mess up my scorecard. Tony certainly is smarter than everybody else.
about 17 hours ago via web
1.) Morsch keeps his own scorecard? That's major-league idiocy.
2.) Mr. LaRussa is at least smarter than Michael Morsch. He bats the pitcher eighth because a guy named Albert Pujols, who happens to be the best hitter in baseball, bats third, and that gives him an "extra" lead-off hitter. Last night, for example, the guy batting ninth for the Cards led off two innings (after the pitcher made outs), and got a hit each time, theoretically allowing Pujols the chance to drive him home.
This begs the question - is Morsch good at ANYTHING he likes doing? He's a crappy writer, a sloppy eater, and a dumb sports fan.
LaRussa bats the pitcher eighth, which does absolutely nothing except mess up my scorecard. Tony certainly is smarter than everybody else.
about 17 hours ago via web
1.) Morsch keeps his own scorecard? That's major-league idiocy.
2.) Mr. LaRussa is at least smarter than Michael Morsch. He bats the pitcher eighth because a guy named Albert Pujols, who happens to be the best hitter in baseball, bats third, and that gives him an "extra" lead-off hitter. Last night, for example, the guy batting ninth for the Cards led off two innings (after the pitcher made outs), and got a hit each time, theoretically allowing Pujols the chance to drive him home.
This begs the question - is Morsch good at ANYTHING he likes doing? He's a crappy writer, a sloppy eater, and a dumb sports fan.
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