Alright, apparently I have a little catching up to do here. Borsch has been on a roll, and there's one particular topic I want to address in detail. Let's do it!
On May 10, Borsch published a "column" entitled OUTTA LEFTFIELD: Get a whiff of this incredibly stupid idea, which of course is hilarious because the subject matter has to do with a smell! Get it? Quite frankly, though, I didn't feel like torturing either myself or you with another "according to a wire service story" post (aren't they all like that these days?). So I'll give you the highlights:
He says that the idea for an intoxicating spray is from the "Department of There Seems to be No End to Stupid Ideas That Aren’t Mine," which is a title so elaborate that it HAS to be funny. The spray was invented by researchers in France, which of course results in references to: croissants, Maurice Chevalier, and Pepe Le Pew. All on the first page. Such creativity! He wraps things up by saying that there is "a lot of stupidity in this country [America]." He's living proof.
There was also a May 16 column entitled OUTTA LEFTFIELD: Gobs of talented students invade 'The Blob's' bailiwick. He leads things off with this gem: Finally, I now have a connection to “The Blob.” Other than his physical girth? I'm surprised he passed up an opportunity for such self-deprecation. This was a terrible one. Basically, he's squeezing a column out of attending his own daughter's student film festival. He raves about how great she is, and that's about it.
Now here's a bit of news that just about everyone will love: on his twitter, Borsch posted the following on May 13:
Mike Morsch @mmorsch35 @welkappeal @RyanHafey My book, "Dancing in My Underwear: The Soundrack of My Life" comes out in June. It has a chapter on the Welk show.
My first thought was one of absolute heart-stopping mind-bending horror: "He found someone willing to publish the crap he writes OTHER than his own newspaper??? The way he phrased it, with the "comes out," sounds like his book was reciving some kind of official release. In a very Borschian move, I immediately went to Google. The top two (and only) results matching the search were by an online company called EduPublisher. Yes, it's true - for just $17.95 (!!!), YOU can be the proud owner of Borsch's book.
Everyone has a soundtrack to their life. But how many people get to talk to the artists who make up their soundtrack? “Dancing in My Underwear: The Soundtrack of My Life” is just such a story. Mike Morsch grew up in the rural Midwest,
Great God in Heaven - he's just recycling the suicide-inducing stories in his columns!
where his parents introduced him to the music of the 1960s and 70s, including such bands as the Beach Boys, The Association, America, Three Dog Night, The Doobie Brothers as well as iconic singers Elton John, Barry Manilow and Olivia Newton-John.
In other words, he had the most generic musical taste possible. "Wow, you listened to Elton John and Barry Maniolow in the 1970s? SO DID I!!!"
Then the career newspaperman moved to the East Coast at midlife and some 30 to 40 years later, had the opportunity to interview the artists that he had listened to as a young child up through his teenage years. The result is a joyous, reflective and sometimes flat-out funny memoir by this longtime journalist. At the heart of it all, Mike shares some of the insights he’s gleaned from interviews with these paragons of modern music. And you’ll hear it in their own voices.
"Joyous"? "Flat-out funny"? Either the person writing this has never read a word Borsch has written... or, more likely, Borsch is writing this about himself.
So sit back, fire up the turntable or click on your iPod and let Mike take you on an unforgettable journey through the soundtrack of his life.
Yep, he's writing this himself. By this point, I'm feeling a whole lot better, because Borsch obviously has not "sold" this piece of garbage to anyone. This is an online self-publishing company (as evidenced by the extremely generic cilp-art cover design). Reading the company's website, they'll "publish" anything, and will actually sell the book if anyone orders it (you have to pay for your own copy). If you really want to go all-out, as Borsch has done, and get your very own book website, they'll do that... for $295 dollars. Hey, Borsch - good luck getting a return on that investment!
I poked around on the book website just to revel in how hard he's trying. The Blonde Accountant's real name is apparently "Judy." Here's a classic:
Meanwhile, you'll come to know a most engaging character in his own right — a man who grows before your eyes from a certified member of "The Eighth-Grade Stupid Shit Hall of Fame" to a loving father and a highly respected member of his profession.
DEFINITELY writing this himself. "Highly respected"? Not according to those I've heard from as a result of this blog. Folks, this is amazing. My question is: do I really want to desecrate the memory of Andrew Jackson and waste almost $20 on this book, just to enjoy how wretched it is?
Showing posts with label Not Really a Column. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Not Really a Column. Show all posts
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Most Boring Story Ever
OUTTA LEFTFIELD: Recalling the 'Great Teenie Beanies Excursion of 1996'
Published: Wednesday, April 11, 2012
By Mike Morsch
Executive Editor
Leave it to the French to be snooty with their fast food.
Good to know that cliched ethnocentrism is NOT a thing of the past.
According to a wire service story, McDonald’s is introducing something called the “McBaguette” in an effort to cater to the French people.
What’s next? Is Mayor McCheese going to be replaced by Mayor Pepe LePew?
At this point I'm absolutely baffled - what other stereotypes about the French can he employ? He's used up "snooty" and "Pepe LePew" in the first few paragraphs! He goes on to cite (surprise!) someone else's news story about Nawfal Trabelsi, a McDonald's VP in France, discussing this new food item.
...But Nawfal Trabelsi is a wonderfully cool name because it has both lilt and panache.
Does it? Does it really? Somebody must have gotten a "Word of the Day" calendar.
Which brings me to McDonald’s. My experience has been that once I reached a certain age, I just quit going to McDonald’s. It’s not that I don’t like the food. I believe the place is still in business today because I ate enough cheeseburgers for three decades to keep its stock price inflated to ridiculously profitable margins.
Didn't he also claim responsibility for eating 1/3 of all the Oreos sold over the past half century? This "I'm fat and therefore eat a lot" routine is an endless mine of comedic gold!
These days, I watch what I eat a little more closely...
Please reference the billion articles he has written about hot dogs, Oreos, etc in order to determine the veracity of this statement.
But McDonld’s — the American version and not the French version — has provided me with the defining moment of one of my more memorable road trips.
That's right - everything we've been through so far has been a mere prelude. I'm frightened.
Back in the mid-1990s, my baseball running buddy in Springfield, Ill., was Chris Dettro, a reporter at the newspaper where we both worked. We shared a love of baseball, given to us by our fathers, that at the time, our wives did not share.
He and his baseball running buddy shared a love of baseball? Interesting twist. The commas in the second sentence are terrible mis-placed.
They thought we were knuckleheads, a fact with which we did not entirely disagree.
Chris and I were heavily into baseball collectibles and autographs as well, so we would occasionally travel to baseball card shows and autograph signings. One such road trip took all the way from Illinois all the way to Hofstra University in Hempstead, N.Y., on Long Island.
That's right - it appears as though this story, just like his two previous stories, is going to be about baseball. What an empty, empty life he leads. Really, after saying "baseball collectibles," is the "baseball" before "card shows and autograph signings" necessary?
So we drove all the way to Long Island, secured the signatures of our boyhood heroes, and headed back to Illinois. Our first stop was at a McDonald’s somewhere in New York.
Believe it or not, I'm cutting out some stuff here. Thus far, the "comedy" of this column has been limited to French jokes and fat jokes.
It just so happened that this was right in the middle of the Beanie Babies stuffed animal craze. At the time, something called “Teenie Beanies” — a smaller version of the Beanie Babies — were being manufactured for a promotion, to be placed in McDonald’s Happy Meals.
If you thought that paragraph was bland and uninteresting, just look at this:
There were 10 Teenie Beanies in the 1996-97 series, including Patti the Platypus; Pinky the Flamingo; Chops the Lamb; Chocolate the Moose (my favorite just because of the creative naming); Goldie the Goldfish; Speedy the Turtle; Seamore the Seal; Snort the Bull; Quacks the Duck; and Lizz the Lizard.
Lists are HILARIOUS! Is "Chocolate the Moose" any more creative than "Chops the Lamb"?
Since we both had young daughters — and there wasn’t really anything at a baseball card show that would interest them — we decided to grab a Happy Meal and get the Teenie Beanies for our girls. I had to buy two since I have two daughters; Chris only had to buy one.
Apparently the number of daughters they each had is vital information. Believe it or not, THIS - not baseball, not cheeseburgers, not the French - is finally the actual topic of this column.
What we didn’t know at the time was how crazy people were going over these things. There were reports, which we didn’t find out until later, that people were actually fighting over them at some McDonald’s locations.
I believe that should be "which we didn't find out ABOUT until later."
Since there were 10 Teenie Beanies characters, we decided to try to collect all 10 before we got back to Illinois. So we started stopping at every McDonald’s we saw along the route home. By the time we hit Pittsburgh, we had added a few hours to our trip, but had secured six of the 10 Teenie Beanies and a bagful of extra cheeseburgers.
I just KNOW that all this boring detail is building up to something gut-busting, and the suspense is killing me!!!
I had taken to storing my Teenie Beanies in one of the empty Happy Meal bags and the extra cheeseburgers I couldn’t eat in another empty Happy Meal bag, both of which I had placed on the floor behind the driver’s seat of the car.
... still killing me!
When it came time to stop driving for the evening somewhere in Ohio, I suggested to Chris that we had put in a lot of effort with both our baseball collectibles and our Teenie Beanies collectibles and that we should take them inside the hotel room with us for safekeeping.
... There's never going to be anything funny, is there?
Chris grabbed a McDonald’s bag and I grabbed the autographed baseball items and we checked into the hotel.
The next morning, it was my turn to drive, so before I got in, I noticed there was still a McDonald’s bag on the floor behind the driver’s seat.
If the story is this boring and unamusing in print, just imagine (if you can) how atrocious it would be in person.
“Chris, did you bring in the Teenie Beanies last night?” I asked.
“Yes, I have them right here,” he said, holding up a McDonald’s Happy Meal bag.
I looked inside the bag in the car and sure enough, there were the Teenie Beanies, where they had sat all night in view of any criminal in search for the highly coveted collectible. But Chris had done a splendid job of making sure the bag full of cheeseburgers was safely secured inside our hotel room.
WAHOOOOOOOOOOO!!! What a delightful twist: they thought they brought something inside, but actually left it in the car. Great payoff!
It turns out that we ended up
Stop right there. This, in a nutshell, is why Borsch is possibly the worst published "writer" I have ever stumbled across. These two phrases - "it turns out" and "we ended up" - mean basically the same thing in this context. He could have used either one of them. Instead, he used both. Because his skill with words is just. That. Wretched.
Continue.
stopping at 36 McDonald’s between Long Island, N.Y., and Springfield, Ill., on “The Great Teenie Beanies Excursion of 1996.” Unfortunately, we secured only eight of the 10 Teenie Beanies for our daughters, missing the first two in the series that had been released, Patti the Platypus and Pinky the Flamingo. But it was a good effort by dads who liked cheeseburgers and were trying to make their kids happy.
Let’s see somebody in France put in that kind of effort with the McBaguette.
See, the problem here is that the two things - the McBaguette and their "memorable" road trip - are completely unrelated. That would be like me saying, "I just dominated at Wii Boxing! Let's see Benedict Arnold do THAT!" The fact that his quest ended in failure is entirely appropriate.
The fact that this is one of his "more memorable road trips" makes me wonder just how dull the other ones were...
Published: Wednesday, April 11, 2012
By Mike Morsch
Executive Editor
Leave it to the French to be snooty with their fast food.
Good to know that cliched ethnocentrism is NOT a thing of the past.
According to a wire service story, McDonald’s is introducing something called the “McBaguette” in an effort to cater to the French people.
What’s next? Is Mayor McCheese going to be replaced by Mayor Pepe LePew?
At this point I'm absolutely baffled - what other stereotypes about the French can he employ? He's used up "snooty" and "Pepe LePew" in the first few paragraphs! He goes on to cite (surprise!) someone else's news story about Nawfal Trabelsi, a McDonald's VP in France, discussing this new food item.
...But Nawfal Trabelsi is a wonderfully cool name because it has both lilt and panache.
Does it? Does it really? Somebody must have gotten a "Word of the Day" calendar.
Which brings me to McDonald’s. My experience has been that once I reached a certain age, I just quit going to McDonald’s. It’s not that I don’t like the food. I believe the place is still in business today because I ate enough cheeseburgers for three decades to keep its stock price inflated to ridiculously profitable margins.
Didn't he also claim responsibility for eating 1/3 of all the Oreos sold over the past half century? This "I'm fat and therefore eat a lot" routine is an endless mine of comedic gold!
These days, I watch what I eat a little more closely...
Please reference the billion articles he has written about hot dogs, Oreos, etc in order to determine the veracity of this statement.
But McDonld’s — the American version and not the French version — has provided me with the defining moment of one of my more memorable road trips.
That's right - everything we've been through so far has been a mere prelude. I'm frightened.
Back in the mid-1990s, my baseball running buddy in Springfield, Ill., was Chris Dettro, a reporter at the newspaper where we both worked. We shared a love of baseball, given to us by our fathers, that at the time, our wives did not share.
He and his baseball running buddy shared a love of baseball? Interesting twist. The commas in the second sentence are terrible mis-placed.
They thought we were knuckleheads, a fact with which we did not entirely disagree.
Chris and I were heavily into baseball collectibles and autographs as well, so we would occasionally travel to baseball card shows and autograph signings. One such road trip took all the way from Illinois all the way to Hofstra University in Hempstead, N.Y., on Long Island.
That's right - it appears as though this story, just like his two previous stories, is going to be about baseball. What an empty, empty life he leads. Really, after saying "baseball collectibles," is the "baseball" before "card shows and autograph signings" necessary?
So we drove all the way to Long Island, secured the signatures of our boyhood heroes, and headed back to Illinois. Our first stop was at a McDonald’s somewhere in New York.
Believe it or not, I'm cutting out some stuff here. Thus far, the "comedy" of this column has been limited to French jokes and fat jokes.
It just so happened that this was right in the middle of the Beanie Babies stuffed animal craze. At the time, something called “Teenie Beanies” — a smaller version of the Beanie Babies — were being manufactured for a promotion, to be placed in McDonald’s Happy Meals.
If you thought that paragraph was bland and uninteresting, just look at this:
There were 10 Teenie Beanies in the 1996-97 series, including Patti the Platypus; Pinky the Flamingo; Chops the Lamb; Chocolate the Moose (my favorite just because of the creative naming); Goldie the Goldfish; Speedy the Turtle; Seamore the Seal; Snort the Bull; Quacks the Duck; and Lizz the Lizard.
Lists are HILARIOUS! Is "Chocolate the Moose" any more creative than "Chops the Lamb"?
Since we both had young daughters — and there wasn’t really anything at a baseball card show that would interest them — we decided to grab a Happy Meal and get the Teenie Beanies for our girls. I had to buy two since I have two daughters; Chris only had to buy one.
Apparently the number of daughters they each had is vital information. Believe it or not, THIS - not baseball, not cheeseburgers, not the French - is finally the actual topic of this column.
What we didn’t know at the time was how crazy people were going over these things. There were reports, which we didn’t find out until later, that people were actually fighting over them at some McDonald’s locations.
I believe that should be "which we didn't find out ABOUT until later."
Since there were 10 Teenie Beanies characters, we decided to try to collect all 10 before we got back to Illinois. So we started stopping at every McDonald’s we saw along the route home. By the time we hit Pittsburgh, we had added a few hours to our trip, but had secured six of the 10 Teenie Beanies and a bagful of extra cheeseburgers.
I just KNOW that all this boring detail is building up to something gut-busting, and the suspense is killing me!!!
I had taken to storing my Teenie Beanies in one of the empty Happy Meal bags and the extra cheeseburgers I couldn’t eat in another empty Happy Meal bag, both of which I had placed on the floor behind the driver’s seat of the car.
... still killing me!
When it came time to stop driving for the evening somewhere in Ohio, I suggested to Chris that we had put in a lot of effort with both our baseball collectibles and our Teenie Beanies collectibles and that we should take them inside the hotel room with us for safekeeping.
... There's never going to be anything funny, is there?
Chris grabbed a McDonald’s bag and I grabbed the autographed baseball items and we checked into the hotel.
The next morning, it was my turn to drive, so before I got in, I noticed there was still a McDonald’s bag on the floor behind the driver’s seat.
If the story is this boring and unamusing in print, just imagine (if you can) how atrocious it would be in person.
“Chris, did you bring in the Teenie Beanies last night?” I asked.
“Yes, I have them right here,” he said, holding up a McDonald’s Happy Meal bag.
I looked inside the bag in the car and sure enough, there were the Teenie Beanies, where they had sat all night in view of any criminal in search for the highly coveted collectible. But Chris had done a splendid job of making sure the bag full of cheeseburgers was safely secured inside our hotel room.
WAHOOOOOOOOOOO!!! What a delightful twist: they thought they brought something inside, but actually left it in the car. Great payoff!
It turns out that we ended up
Stop right there. This, in a nutshell, is why Borsch is possibly the worst published "writer" I have ever stumbled across. These two phrases - "it turns out" and "we ended up" - mean basically the same thing in this context. He could have used either one of them. Instead, he used both. Because his skill with words is just. That. Wretched.
Continue.
stopping at 36 McDonald’s between Long Island, N.Y., and Springfield, Ill., on “The Great Teenie Beanies Excursion of 1996.” Unfortunately, we secured only eight of the 10 Teenie Beanies for our daughters, missing the first two in the series that had been released, Patti the Platypus and Pinky the Flamingo. But it was a good effort by dads who liked cheeseburgers and were trying to make their kids happy.
Let’s see somebody in France put in that kind of effort with the McBaguette.
See, the problem here is that the two things - the McBaguette and their "memorable" road trip - are completely unrelated. That would be like me saying, "I just dominated at Wii Boxing! Let's see Benedict Arnold do THAT!" The fact that his quest ended in failure is entirely appropriate.
The fact that this is one of his "more memorable road trips" makes me wonder just how dull the other ones were...
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Copy-And-Paste Column
OUTTA LEFTFIELD: Milking a topic for what it’s worth: The Oreo turns 100
Published: Tuesday, March 06, 2012
By Mike Morsch
Executive Editor
I should have known.
In the interest of offering you critical information that you can utilize in your everyday life — as this space so often does, especially during the wacky political season — the Oreo celebrated its 100th birthday this week.
Long-time Borsch readers will know that this political season is only "wacky" because it's the Republican primary.
According to a wire service story,
This means he stole 90% of his content from said wire service story.
a woman by the name of Becky Tousey, corporate archivist for Kraft Foods who is apparently also known as the “Oreo historian,” revealed that the cookie has maintained the same advertising focus since its inception — that it is fun to eat.
The story (which I found) uses the phrase "maintained the same theme in its advertising over the years." This is the most effort Borsch will put into his copying from here on out. I really question whether "inception" is the proper word to use when referring to a cookie.
This, of course, raises the question: Kraft Foods actually employs someone as a “corporate archivist” and expert “Oreo historian”?
Cool. I believe I may have eaten enough Oreo cookies over the course of my lifetime to actually qualify as an “Oreo historian.” I plan to revise my resume to reflect such an accomplishment.
Did you like that "I eat a lot of Oreos" joke? I hope so. You'll be seeing it again. And again. And again.
Here are some other fun facts about the Oreo, according to the wire service story:
This is code for "the remaining 75% of the article is someone else's work."
— The cookie takes 59 minutes to make and consists of 12 flowers, 12 dots and 12 dashes on each side. Each cookie also has 90 ridges.
From the story: "The cookie, which takes 59 minutes to make, consists of 12 flowers, 12 dots and 12 dashes on each side. Each cookie has 90 ridges."
— The cookies are made of 29 percent crème and 71 percent cookie. They are produced in 21 bakeries around the world, and Kraft estimates that more than 500 billion Oreos have been sold since 1912.
You guessed it! From the story: "Oreos are made from 29 percent creme and 71 percent cookie. They are made in 21 bakeries around the world. Kraft Foods estimates that more than 500 billion Oreos have been sold since 1912." Changing punctuation = NOT copying. Kids, take note.
— I believe I am personally responsible for eating at least 1.5 billion of those Oreos, which puts me second on the All-Time Cookie Eater leader board behind, of course, the Cookie Monster. Oddly enough, I’ve never looked at them closely enough to realize that each cookie has a pattern that contains 12 flowers, 12 dots and 12 dashes. What that proves, I think, is that the cookies don’t stay in my hand long enough for me to get a good look at what’s on them.
HA! He eats large quantities of food. Funny. There's an entire, massive paragraph later based solely around this joke, but adds the fact that he drinks a lot of milk to the mix. Double HA!
— Market research reveals that 84 percent of men ate the cookies whole while 41 percent of women pulled the cookie apart.
Per the story: "...market research found that while 84 percent of men ate the cookie whole, 41 percent of women pulled the cookie apart.".
Count me among the 84 percent. I just ate a bunch last weekend and didn’t pull any of them apart. Of course, I’m pretty sure I am practicing the wrong technique there. Even though the women represent only a 41 percent minority of puller-aparters, it’s likely that we men have been doing it all wrong for the past 100 years.
What in hell is he saying here, exactly? Obviously he's doing his usual "men are stupid" thing, but does that mean that 59% of women are also stupid? Does he think that 41% of the entire population, who happen to all be women, pull the Oreo apart? If so, what happened to the 16% of men who do? Really, if Borsch ever reads this (and I know he does), I hope he explains what he was going for.
— Apparently nobody has been credited with coming up with the Oreo idea. However, Ms. Tousey, the “Oreo historian,” believes the name came from combining the “re” in “crème” and the two “o’s” in “chocolate.” I don’t mean to be critical, but that seems like a pretty thin theory for someone with the exulted title of “Oreo historian.” That cookie needs a better backstory.
Borsch says "apparently" because, per the story: "No one has been credited with coming up with the Oreo idea". Tousey's theory about the origin of the name is practically word-for-word, too.
— In 1921, the Oreo biscuit became the Oreo sandwich. In 1937, the name changed to the Oreo crème sandwich. I had no idea is was a biscuit or a sandwich and I’m still not sure why the original bakery — the National Biscuit Co. out of Manhattan — didn’t just name the cookie “The Best Dadgummed Cookie You’ll Ever Dunk in a Glass of Milk.” That certainly could have made for a better backstory if you ask me.
It's been a long time since he's used "dadgummed." And how exactly does a different name for the cookie create a "better backstory"?
— The popular cookie — its Facebook page currently has more than 25 million fans — has had five design changes and been marketed by three companies: the aforementioned National Biscuit Co., which became Nabisco, and now Kraft Foods. I remember is mostly as a Nabisco product.
"I remember is mostly"? Some executive editors didn't proofread!
According to company officials, a limited-edition Oreo with a confetti-sprinkled crème center that tastes like birthday cake has been unveiled for the 100th birthday of the cookie. Swell. Now I have to buy more cookies and milk.
Borsch does a good job of exactly repeating the wire service story again: "...a limited edition cookie with a confetti-sprinkled creme center that tastes like birthday cake."
Now, there might not be anything strictly wrong with repeating your source material word-for-word for the majority of your own column (although I doubt it). But it's further evidence that our favorite author is lazy, slipshod, and unoriginal - and unwilling to admit to it.
Given the history and popularity of the Oreo, it’s little wonder that it has lasted this long. The cookie has become part of the American fabric.
Which, of course, makes it a fitting topic for the next political debate. It’s about time our politicians started talking about something really important — like the best cookies of our time.
... What? Pathetic, sir. Truly a pathetic attempt to frame your copy-and-paste "column" within the context of the primaries (and how in the world he thinks the two topics should even be tenuously tied together is beyond me).
A reader posting under the name of "Kelly Simmons" left the following comment on Borsch's column: Yummy post! I fear for the future of the Republic.
Published: Tuesday, March 06, 2012
By Mike Morsch
Executive Editor
I should have known.
In the interest of offering you critical information that you can utilize in your everyday life — as this space so often does, especially during the wacky political season — the Oreo celebrated its 100th birthday this week.
Long-time Borsch readers will know that this political season is only "wacky" because it's the Republican primary.
According to a wire service story,
This means he stole 90% of his content from said wire service story.
a woman by the name of Becky Tousey, corporate archivist for Kraft Foods who is apparently also known as the “Oreo historian,” revealed that the cookie has maintained the same advertising focus since its inception — that it is fun to eat.
The story (which I found) uses the phrase "maintained the same theme in its advertising over the years." This is the most effort Borsch will put into his copying from here on out. I really question whether "inception" is the proper word to use when referring to a cookie.
This, of course, raises the question: Kraft Foods actually employs someone as a “corporate archivist” and expert “Oreo historian”?
Cool. I believe I may have eaten enough Oreo cookies over the course of my lifetime to actually qualify as an “Oreo historian.” I plan to revise my resume to reflect such an accomplishment.
Did you like that "I eat a lot of Oreos" joke? I hope so. You'll be seeing it again. And again. And again.
Here are some other fun facts about the Oreo, according to the wire service story:
This is code for "the remaining 75% of the article is someone else's work."
— The cookie takes 59 minutes to make and consists of 12 flowers, 12 dots and 12 dashes on each side. Each cookie also has 90 ridges.
From the story: "The cookie, which takes 59 minutes to make, consists of 12 flowers, 12 dots and 12 dashes on each side. Each cookie has 90 ridges."
— The cookies are made of 29 percent crème and 71 percent cookie. They are produced in 21 bakeries around the world, and Kraft estimates that more than 500 billion Oreos have been sold since 1912.
You guessed it! From the story: "Oreos are made from 29 percent creme and 71 percent cookie. They are made in 21 bakeries around the world. Kraft Foods estimates that more than 500 billion Oreos have been sold since 1912." Changing punctuation = NOT copying. Kids, take note.
— I believe I am personally responsible for eating at least 1.5 billion of those Oreos, which puts me second on the All-Time Cookie Eater leader board behind, of course, the Cookie Monster. Oddly enough, I’ve never looked at them closely enough to realize that each cookie has a pattern that contains 12 flowers, 12 dots and 12 dashes. What that proves, I think, is that the cookies don’t stay in my hand long enough for me to get a good look at what’s on them.
HA! He eats large quantities of food. Funny. There's an entire, massive paragraph later based solely around this joke, but adds the fact that he drinks a lot of milk to the mix. Double HA!
— Market research reveals that 84 percent of men ate the cookies whole while 41 percent of women pulled the cookie apart.
Per the story: "...market research found that while 84 percent of men ate the cookie whole, 41 percent of women pulled the cookie apart.".
Count me among the 84 percent. I just ate a bunch last weekend and didn’t pull any of them apart. Of course, I’m pretty sure I am practicing the wrong technique there. Even though the women represent only a 41 percent minority of puller-aparters, it’s likely that we men have been doing it all wrong for the past 100 years.
What in hell is he saying here, exactly? Obviously he's doing his usual "men are stupid" thing, but does that mean that 59% of women are also stupid? Does he think that 41% of the entire population, who happen to all be women, pull the Oreo apart? If so, what happened to the 16% of men who do? Really, if Borsch ever reads this (and I know he does), I hope he explains what he was going for.
— Apparently nobody has been credited with coming up with the Oreo idea. However, Ms. Tousey, the “Oreo historian,” believes the name came from combining the “re” in “crème” and the two “o’s” in “chocolate.” I don’t mean to be critical, but that seems like a pretty thin theory for someone with the exulted title of “Oreo historian.” That cookie needs a better backstory.
Borsch says "apparently" because, per the story: "No one has been credited with coming up with the Oreo idea". Tousey's theory about the origin of the name is practically word-for-word, too.
— In 1921, the Oreo biscuit became the Oreo sandwich. In 1937, the name changed to the Oreo crème sandwich. I had no idea is was a biscuit or a sandwich and I’m still not sure why the original bakery — the National Biscuit Co. out of Manhattan — didn’t just name the cookie “The Best Dadgummed Cookie You’ll Ever Dunk in a Glass of Milk.” That certainly could have made for a better backstory if you ask me.
It's been a long time since he's used "dadgummed." And how exactly does a different name for the cookie create a "better backstory"?
— The popular cookie — its Facebook page currently has more than 25 million fans — has had five design changes and been marketed by three companies: the aforementioned National Biscuit Co., which became Nabisco, and now Kraft Foods. I remember is mostly as a Nabisco product.
"I remember is mostly"? Some executive editors didn't proofread!
According to company officials, a limited-edition Oreo with a confetti-sprinkled crème center that tastes like birthday cake has been unveiled for the 100th birthday of the cookie. Swell. Now I have to buy more cookies and milk.
Borsch does a good job of exactly repeating the wire service story again: "...a limited edition cookie with a confetti-sprinkled creme center that tastes like birthday cake."
Now, there might not be anything strictly wrong with repeating your source material word-for-word for the majority of your own column (although I doubt it). But it's further evidence that our favorite author is lazy, slipshod, and unoriginal - and unwilling to admit to it.
Given the history and popularity of the Oreo, it’s little wonder that it has lasted this long. The cookie has become part of the American fabric.
Which, of course, makes it a fitting topic for the next political debate. It’s about time our politicians started talking about something really important — like the best cookies of our time.
... What? Pathetic, sir. Truly a pathetic attempt to frame your copy-and-paste "column" within the context of the primaries (and how in the world he thinks the two topics should even be tenuously tied together is beyond me).
A reader posting under the name of "Kelly Simmons" left the following comment on Borsch's column: Yummy post! I fear for the future of the Republic.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Double-Dipping Confusion
My return may end up being a brief one, if this is the kind of product I have to deal with...
OUTTA LEFTFIELD: Stick a fork in those Super Bowl buffet double-dippers
Published: Tuesday, February 07, 2012
By Mike Morsch
Executive Editor
This column is not only insufferably long, but suffers from the following defects:
1.) Overall confusion on the definition of the term "double-dip"
2.) Variations on the term "double-dip" are used no less than 14 times
3.) Seinfeld covered this topic fifteen years ago
The highlights:
I am not a double-dipper, at least not in front of anyone. In my younger days, though, I was notorious for drinking directly out of the milk jug. That was, until I got caught one time and spent the next three days picking plastic out of my ear, unceremoniously put there by someone who was drinking out of the same jug, only not directly.
... What? Re-write that last sentence, but this time, have it make a lick of sense. Does it surprise anyone that he drinks milk directly out of the jug? It shouldn't. He probably also spills milk on himself and snorts it out of his nose.
But my dad was a shameless world class double-dipper — the Kobayashi of Double-Dipping as it were — and it was his dinner table indiscretions over the course of many years that eventually convinced me that I would, for the most part, not follow in his footsteps.
Please note - at no point in this column does Borsch provide a definitive explanation of exactly what "double-dipping" is, despite using the phrase in almost every pharagraph. As it turns out, he seems a little confused on the definition himself.
And my pop wasn’t even subtle about it. When it came time for seconds — or even after the meal was over — he would take his fork and pick right out of the bowls of food that were left on the table.
One wonders how someone could, in fact, be subtle about getting up, walking back to a buffet table, taking additional food, and sitting back down. And just so we're clear - "double-dipping" apparently means using your own utensil to pick food out of communal bowls.
Per Urban Dictionary: Favorite behavior of crude diners. Involves dipping your... chip into a sauce, taking a bite... and then re-dipping the half digested item back into the sauce.
This drove my ex-wife completely stark-raving crazy-go-nuts, so much so that she would go to great lengths to make sure my dad’s fork didn’t poison anyone else’s food at the table. This was after I had politely asked my dad to stop doing it and he had politely promised to comply only to forget and revert back to old habits every time Thanksgiving rolled around.
If you're curious as to why this woman is his ex-wife, you haven't been paying attention.
Here’s how bad it eventually got: One Thanksgiving at our house, my ex had prepared the entire meal with all the trimmings, which anyone who undertakes the preparing of the Thanksgiving meals knows is no small task.
To minimize the effectiveness of my pop’s double-dipping, she prepared a series of extra, smaller bowls of each of the meal’s offerings. My dad got his own platter of turkey, his own bowl of mashed potatoes, his own dish of green-been casserole and his own pumpkin pie.
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz... Just to make sure that he includes as much dull, plodding detail as possible, this story goes on for TWO MORE PARAGRAPHS. Sheer torture.
These days, I am fortunate in that I am the only one in my house who will eat leftovers. Once the meal is finished, if there is any food left, I am secure in the knowledge that if I choose to double-dip, it is affecting only me. The greatest advantage to that arrangement, of course, is the fact that I get all the leftovers, which is perfectly fine with me.
He's operating on the theory that, if he just uses the terms "leftovers" and "double-dip" enough, it will magically transform from "not funny" to "very funny." He's like a modern-day humor alchemist.
It seems to me, though, that policing the double-dippers at a well-attended Super Bowl party may be a bit more problematic than it would be at one’s own dinner table. There can be a lot of kibitzing, imbibing of spirits and mulling about at a Super Bowl party and policing the food area between expensive commercials can be challenging, especially amidst all the distractions from goofy monkeys, cute babies, cute dogs, Elton John, Madonna, Clint Eastwood and Jerry Seinfeld.
I literally can't believe we're still talking about this. This topic has no interest. It almost has negative interest - the more I read about it, the less I wish I knew.
The column then undergoes a strange transformation - our earlier definition of "double-dipping" changes so that it now conforms with the more traditional meaning.
You tell me if this would be OK at your Super Bowl party: I am partaking of the celery sticks and onion dip. (This would be your party, not mine. At my Super Bowl party we serve cocktail weenies, pizza rolls, the special family chip dip and Girl Scout thin mints for dessert.) I take a piece of celery — one that is too long to fit into my mouth in one bite — and dip the end of the stick into the onion dip. I then bite that stick in half, flip it over to the other end that doesn’t have any dip on it, and then dip again.
This whole "crisis" can be avoided by spooning a small amount of said dip onto your plate for your own personal use. That would, however, require thought - something that causes Borsch to break out in a cold sweat.
I see nothing wrong with that. Technically, I have not double-dipped the end of the celery that has come in contact with my mouth. But my sense is that most of the rest of you would flag me for a double-dip violation. In days of yore during my first marriage, the celery stunt would have gotten me my own table out in the garage for Thanksgiving.
The fact that Borsch can use the term "first marriage" makes me fear for all of humanity.
So I understand that some people are uncomfortable with double-dipping, which is why I don’t do it to anybody but myself. Really, though, can I even double-dip myself? Isn’t that what I do every time I eat anyway?
One time I watched a hip replacement on TV. It was sheer brutality - splitting flesh and muscle, sawing through joints, hammering and drilling into bone... Reading this column is a lot like watching a hip replacement.
My guess is that if the Eagles could win just one Super Bowl anytime soon, we could stick a fork in the double-dipping issue, at least for as long as it takes to have one big party.
Why? How does the Eagles winning the Super Bowl makes your one hypothetical situation okay? And make up your mind - does "double-dipping" involve the use of a fork or a chip/veggie?
Since this is the type of effortless slop that became so common toward late 2011, I might return to the shadows. Only time (and the next Borsch column) will tell...
OUTTA LEFTFIELD: Stick a fork in those Super Bowl buffet double-dippers
Published: Tuesday, February 07, 2012
By Mike Morsch
Executive Editor
This column is not only insufferably long, but suffers from the following defects:
1.) Overall confusion on the definition of the term "double-dip"
2.) Variations on the term "double-dip" are used no less than 14 times
3.) Seinfeld covered this topic fifteen years ago
The highlights:
I am not a double-dipper, at least not in front of anyone. In my younger days, though, I was notorious for drinking directly out of the milk jug. That was, until I got caught one time and spent the next three days picking plastic out of my ear, unceremoniously put there by someone who was drinking out of the same jug, only not directly.
... What? Re-write that last sentence, but this time, have it make a lick of sense. Does it surprise anyone that he drinks milk directly out of the jug? It shouldn't. He probably also spills milk on himself and snorts it out of his nose.
But my dad was a shameless world class double-dipper — the Kobayashi of Double-Dipping as it were — and it was his dinner table indiscretions over the course of many years that eventually convinced me that I would, for the most part, not follow in his footsteps.
Please note - at no point in this column does Borsch provide a definitive explanation of exactly what "double-dipping" is, despite using the phrase in almost every pharagraph. As it turns out, he seems a little confused on the definition himself.
And my pop wasn’t even subtle about it. When it came time for seconds — or even after the meal was over — he would take his fork and pick right out of the bowls of food that were left on the table.
One wonders how someone could, in fact, be subtle about getting up, walking back to a buffet table, taking additional food, and sitting back down. And just so we're clear - "double-dipping" apparently means using your own utensil to pick food out of communal bowls.
Per Urban Dictionary: Favorite behavior of crude diners. Involves dipping your... chip into a sauce, taking a bite... and then re-dipping the half digested item back into the sauce.
This drove my ex-wife completely stark-raving crazy-go-nuts, so much so that she would go to great lengths to make sure my dad’s fork didn’t poison anyone else’s food at the table. This was after I had politely asked my dad to stop doing it and he had politely promised to comply only to forget and revert back to old habits every time Thanksgiving rolled around.
If you're curious as to why this woman is his ex-wife, you haven't been paying attention.
Here’s how bad it eventually got: One Thanksgiving at our house, my ex had prepared the entire meal with all the trimmings, which anyone who undertakes the preparing of the Thanksgiving meals knows is no small task.
To minimize the effectiveness of my pop’s double-dipping, she prepared a series of extra, smaller bowls of each of the meal’s offerings. My dad got his own platter of turkey, his own bowl of mashed potatoes, his own dish of green-been casserole and his own pumpkin pie.
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz... Just to make sure that he includes as much dull, plodding detail as possible, this story goes on for TWO MORE PARAGRAPHS. Sheer torture.
These days, I am fortunate in that I am the only one in my house who will eat leftovers. Once the meal is finished, if there is any food left, I am secure in the knowledge that if I choose to double-dip, it is affecting only me. The greatest advantage to that arrangement, of course, is the fact that I get all the leftovers, which is perfectly fine with me.
He's operating on the theory that, if he just uses the terms "leftovers" and "double-dip" enough, it will magically transform from "not funny" to "very funny." He's like a modern-day humor alchemist.
It seems to me, though, that policing the double-dippers at a well-attended Super Bowl party may be a bit more problematic than it would be at one’s own dinner table. There can be a lot of kibitzing, imbibing of spirits and mulling about at a Super Bowl party and policing the food area between expensive commercials can be challenging, especially amidst all the distractions from goofy monkeys, cute babies, cute dogs, Elton John, Madonna, Clint Eastwood and Jerry Seinfeld.
I literally can't believe we're still talking about this. This topic has no interest. It almost has negative interest - the more I read about it, the less I wish I knew.
The column then undergoes a strange transformation - our earlier definition of "double-dipping" changes so that it now conforms with the more traditional meaning.
You tell me if this would be OK at your Super Bowl party: I am partaking of the celery sticks and onion dip. (This would be your party, not mine. At my Super Bowl party we serve cocktail weenies, pizza rolls, the special family chip dip and Girl Scout thin mints for dessert.) I take a piece of celery — one that is too long to fit into my mouth in one bite — and dip the end of the stick into the onion dip. I then bite that stick in half, flip it over to the other end that doesn’t have any dip on it, and then dip again.
This whole "crisis" can be avoided by spooning a small amount of said dip onto your plate for your own personal use. That would, however, require thought - something that causes Borsch to break out in a cold sweat.
I see nothing wrong with that. Technically, I have not double-dipped the end of the celery that has come in contact with my mouth. But my sense is that most of the rest of you would flag me for a double-dip violation. In days of yore during my first marriage, the celery stunt would have gotten me my own table out in the garage for Thanksgiving.
The fact that Borsch can use the term "first marriage" makes me fear for all of humanity.
So I understand that some people are uncomfortable with double-dipping, which is why I don’t do it to anybody but myself. Really, though, can I even double-dip myself? Isn’t that what I do every time I eat anyway?
One time I watched a hip replacement on TV. It was sheer brutality - splitting flesh and muscle, sawing through joints, hammering and drilling into bone... Reading this column is a lot like watching a hip replacement.
My guess is that if the Eagles could win just one Super Bowl anytime soon, we could stick a fork in the double-dipping issue, at least for as long as it takes to have one big party.
Why? How does the Eagles winning the Super Bowl makes your one hypothetical situation okay? And make up your mind - does "double-dipping" involve the use of a fork or a chip/veggie?
Since this is the type of effortless slop that became so common toward late 2011, I might return to the shadows. Only time (and the next Borsch column) will tell...
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Where He Gets Ideas
Like the Bumble Snow Monster of the North, Mike Morsch appears to be roaring to life this winter. Just when I thought I was out... he PULLS me back in...
OUTTA LEFTFIELD: Monday morning blues reveal no clues on shoes
Published: Wednesday, February 01, 2012
By Mike Morsch
Executive Editor
Reason why Borsch is a Bad Writer #[insert Borsch-esque "hilariously" high number here]: he could have used "few" instead of "no." It would still be a horrible title, but at least you'd know he put 100% into it. As it stands, it just reminds me of Blues Clues.
I can’t imagine a better time than the first thing on a Monday morning for me to take a shoe personality quiz.
That’s what happens when a columnist doesn’t spend the proper time developing a column idea. He find himself right up against a deadline and has to force himself to stay awake long enough on a Monday morning to take a shoe personality quiz.
"He find himself"? Really?
In other words: "My apologies, folks. I got nothing." Don't try to pass it off like this is all part of the zany life of a columnist. Borsch can write about ANYTHING (or, when that fails, swipe whole paragraphs from Wikipedia) - as long as he spews out 200 words on National Cheese Day or the color of his own couch, he's golden.
He's lazy - that's the real story here.
As has been reported in this space many times, I am not the shoe expert in my house. When I first met The Blonde Accountant, I had three pairs of shoes: black, brown and sneakers. She had approximately 300 pairs of shoes housed in warehouse in her backyard.
Here's an easy way to pad out a column when you lack the creativity for an original topic: reference how many shoes your wife owns! AGAIN! Please refer to this quote from a Borsch column published on October 12, 2010:
As for shoes, The Blonde Accountant has 6,497 pairs of shoes in the warehouse she calls a closet.
The only interesting thing about this "column" so far is that TBA has apparently purchased 6,197 pairs of shoes since he first met her. At least she still stores them in a "warehouse."
Borsch goes on to mention that he only wears three pairs of shoes: black, brown and sneakers (rimshot!!!). He repeats this joke several times. Then he eats up two paragraphs describing how he once observed some OTHER guy buying shoes. So far this column has more superfluous filling than your average Thanksgiving dinner.
Despite many experiences like that, I decided that the best way to start off the work week was by taking a shoe personality quiz, with the hope that the quiz would immediately recognize it was me goofing around and just go right to the end and recommend that the shoe that best fits my personality were the red canvas high-top Chuck Taylors that I already have in my closet.
Gee... did he, by any chance, take a shoe personality quiz at some point?
February 22, 2011 "column": Outta Leftfield - Attempt to buy new pair of 'Chucks' gets off on the wrong foot. Borsch describes his quest for a pair of "black canvas high-tops Chucks." Let's count the number of times he uses the exact phrase "red canvas high-top Chuck Taylors," shall we?
Well, that was a miscalculation. The shoe personality quiz, offered by some online outfit called JustFabulous, was for women, which apparently is not the primary audience to which Converse markets its red canvas high-top Chuck Taylor tennis shoes.
Two.
Steeling my resolve to get a column out of the idea, I proceeded with the quiz anyway. At the very least, maybe The Blonde Accountant would be impressed that I was attempting to learn more about the shoes that will likely end up in her closet. (Editor’s note: She wasn’t. Her response was: “And what is your shoe personality? Moe, Larry or Curly?” That right there is why I love her, folks.)
So it's Monday morning, and he's desperately scrambling for a column idea (which, again, could literally be anything on Earth). He begins a quiz. It's for women. He takes it anyway because he can think of no other idea. Truly, this is a man who earns his pay.
The first question on the quiz was: Which celebrity’s style do you most covet? The choices were Jennifer Aniston, Jennifer Lopez and Nicole Richie. (Editor’s note: There was no option to choose PeeWee Herman, so I chose Jennifer Aniston.)
Editor's note: PeeWee Herman is a noted public masturbator. He is also, apparently, Borsch's fashion plate of choice.
The second question was: Which celebrity might you look to for style and inspiration? The choices were Reese Witherspoon, Beyonce and Drew Barrymore. (Editor’s note: There was no option to choose Elton John, circa 1976, so I chose Drew Barrymore, who I believe once inspired David Letterman by jumping up on his desk and raising her shirt.)
Oh, because Elton John wears those big glasses, right? That's fresh. You know, when I think of Ms. Barrymore, it's more for her roles in "Scream" and "Charlie's Angels." But I'm not an old pervert like David Letterman or Mike Morsch.
The third question was: If you could raid any celebrity’s wardrobe, you’d invade? The choices were Eva Longoria, Jessica Biel and Carrie Underwood. (Editor’s note: It seems to me that raiding any celebrity’s wardrobe would get one a Go Directly To Jail card, but since the survey was all in good fun, I chose Jessica Biel because she is … uh …well … is it warm in here or is it just me?)
Borsch, describing talking to Kathleen Turner in a January 4, 2011 article: ...well . . . ahem. Is it getting warm in here or is it just me? From his reactions to these attractive celebs, I suspect that ol' Mike isn't just inspired by PeeWee Herman's wardrobe.
And on and on it went. I was asked about which style of shoe I like most (red canvas high-top Chucks), which shoe best embodies my fashion style (red canvas high-top Chucks) and when I go out on a Saturday night, which shoe best illustrates my personality (uh … the red canvas high-top Chucks).
Three, four and five. Recipe for comedy: (1) use a word or phrase; (2) repeat. Classic! He then suggests that his dress size would be 16, because he's big and fat. Can anyone tell that, deep down, Borsch STILL doesn't have an idea for a column?
When the quiz was all said and done — in the interest of full disclosure, I did not complete it because as it turns out, even fun quizzes aren’t all that fun to take on Monday mornings — JustFabulous suggested that it would employ a team of celebrity stylists to study my quiz results and then select a collection of shoes that the team thinks will make me absolutely giddy.
So wait... if he didn't complete the quiz, where did this suggestion come from?
So it has come to this: It’s Monday morning and I’m researching women’s shoes for a column. I believe the word “sheesh” adequately describes the experience.
With apologies to the Mamas and the Papas … Monday, Monday, can’t trust that day. Monday, Monday, sometimes it just turns out that way.
Well, alright then. When you can't think up a column, take (but not finish) an online quiz, repeat material from previous columns, and use song lyrics to wrap everything up. So was this a column about how hard it is to get column ideas? About shoes? About Mondays? Does anyone really care?
By the way, several hours ago I submitted a comment for Borsch's column: "Don't keep us in suspense - did you come up with a column idea???" As of now, it has not been approved.
OUTTA LEFTFIELD: Monday morning blues reveal no clues on shoes
Published: Wednesday, February 01, 2012
By Mike Morsch
Executive Editor
Reason why Borsch is a Bad Writer #[insert Borsch-esque "hilariously" high number here]: he could have used "few" instead of "no." It would still be a horrible title, but at least you'd know he put 100% into it. As it stands, it just reminds me of Blues Clues.
I can’t imagine a better time than the first thing on a Monday morning for me to take a shoe personality quiz.
That’s what happens when a columnist doesn’t spend the proper time developing a column idea. He find himself right up against a deadline and has to force himself to stay awake long enough on a Monday morning to take a shoe personality quiz.
"He find himself"? Really?
In other words: "My apologies, folks. I got nothing." Don't try to pass it off like this is all part of the zany life of a columnist. Borsch can write about ANYTHING (or, when that fails, swipe whole paragraphs from Wikipedia) - as long as he spews out 200 words on National Cheese Day or the color of his own couch, he's golden.
He's lazy - that's the real story here.
As has been reported in this space many times, I am not the shoe expert in my house. When I first met The Blonde Accountant, I had three pairs of shoes: black, brown and sneakers. She had approximately 300 pairs of shoes housed in warehouse in her backyard.
Here's an easy way to pad out a column when you lack the creativity for an original topic: reference how many shoes your wife owns! AGAIN! Please refer to this quote from a Borsch column published on October 12, 2010:
As for shoes, The Blonde Accountant has 6,497 pairs of shoes in the warehouse she calls a closet.
The only interesting thing about this "column" so far is that TBA has apparently purchased 6,197 pairs of shoes since he first met her. At least she still stores them in a "warehouse."
Borsch goes on to mention that he only wears three pairs of shoes: black, brown and sneakers (rimshot!!!). He repeats this joke several times. Then he eats up two paragraphs describing how he once observed some OTHER guy buying shoes. So far this column has more superfluous filling than your average Thanksgiving dinner.
Despite many experiences like that, I decided that the best way to start off the work week was by taking a shoe personality quiz, with the hope that the quiz would immediately recognize it was me goofing around and just go right to the end and recommend that the shoe that best fits my personality were the red canvas high-top Chuck Taylors that I already have in my closet.
Gee... did he, by any chance, take a shoe personality quiz at some point?
February 22, 2011 "column": Outta Leftfield - Attempt to buy new pair of 'Chucks' gets off on the wrong foot. Borsch describes his quest for a pair of "black canvas high-tops Chucks." Let's count the number of times he uses the exact phrase "red canvas high-top Chuck Taylors," shall we?
Well, that was a miscalculation. The shoe personality quiz, offered by some online outfit called JustFabulous, was for women, which apparently is not the primary audience to which Converse markets its red canvas high-top Chuck Taylor tennis shoes.
Two.
Steeling my resolve to get a column out of the idea, I proceeded with the quiz anyway. At the very least, maybe The Blonde Accountant would be impressed that I was attempting to learn more about the shoes that will likely end up in her closet. (Editor’s note: She wasn’t. Her response was: “And what is your shoe personality? Moe, Larry or Curly?” That right there is why I love her, folks.)
So it's Monday morning, and he's desperately scrambling for a column idea (which, again, could literally be anything on Earth). He begins a quiz. It's for women. He takes it anyway because he can think of no other idea. Truly, this is a man who earns his pay.
The first question on the quiz was: Which celebrity’s style do you most covet? The choices were Jennifer Aniston, Jennifer Lopez and Nicole Richie. (Editor’s note: There was no option to choose PeeWee Herman, so I chose Jennifer Aniston.)
Editor's note: PeeWee Herman is a noted public masturbator. He is also, apparently, Borsch's fashion plate of choice.
The second question was: Which celebrity might you look to for style and inspiration? The choices were Reese Witherspoon, Beyonce and Drew Barrymore. (Editor’s note: There was no option to choose Elton John, circa 1976, so I chose Drew Barrymore, who I believe once inspired David Letterman by jumping up on his desk and raising her shirt.)
Oh, because Elton John wears those big glasses, right? That's fresh. You know, when I think of Ms. Barrymore, it's more for her roles in "Scream" and "Charlie's Angels." But I'm not an old pervert like David Letterman or Mike Morsch.
The third question was: If you could raid any celebrity’s wardrobe, you’d invade? The choices were Eva Longoria, Jessica Biel and Carrie Underwood. (Editor’s note: It seems to me that raiding any celebrity’s wardrobe would get one a Go Directly To Jail card, but since the survey was all in good fun, I chose Jessica Biel because she is … uh …well … is it warm in here or is it just me?)
Borsch, describing talking to Kathleen Turner in a January 4, 2011 article: ...well . . . ahem. Is it getting warm in here or is it just me? From his reactions to these attractive celebs, I suspect that ol' Mike isn't just inspired by PeeWee Herman's wardrobe.
And on and on it went. I was asked about which style of shoe I like most (red canvas high-top Chucks), which shoe best embodies my fashion style (red canvas high-top Chucks) and when I go out on a Saturday night, which shoe best illustrates my personality (uh … the red canvas high-top Chucks).
Three, four and five. Recipe for comedy: (1) use a word or phrase; (2) repeat. Classic! He then suggests that his dress size would be 16, because he's big and fat. Can anyone tell that, deep down, Borsch STILL doesn't have an idea for a column?
When the quiz was all said and done — in the interest of full disclosure, I did not complete it because as it turns out, even fun quizzes aren’t all that fun to take on Monday mornings — JustFabulous suggested that it would employ a team of celebrity stylists to study my quiz results and then select a collection of shoes that the team thinks will make me absolutely giddy.
So wait... if he didn't complete the quiz, where did this suggestion come from?
So it has come to this: It’s Monday morning and I’m researching women’s shoes for a column. I believe the word “sheesh” adequately describes the experience.
With apologies to the Mamas and the Papas … Monday, Monday, can’t trust that day. Monday, Monday, sometimes it just turns out that way.
Well, alright then. When you can't think up a column, take (but not finish) an online quiz, repeat material from previous columns, and use song lyrics to wrap everything up. So was this a column about how hard it is to get column ideas? About shoes? About Mondays? Does anyone really care?
By the way, several hours ago I submitted a comment for Borsch's column: "Don't keep us in suspense - did you come up with a column idea???" As of now, it has not been approved.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
GENIUS!
Souderton continues discussion on creating recreation board to oversee pool
Published: Thursday, September 15, 2011
By Emily Morris
Souderton Borough Council continues to mull over the option of creating a recreation board to look at overseeing its parks, and primarily its new pool.
“I think if we’re going to create a recreation board, then we at least have to give it some guidelines as to what this recreation board does,” Souderton Mayor John Reynolds said.
Wow. Such depth! Such... such substance! Why is this man not writing Civics textbooks? I think his talents are being squandered.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
S-F football night all about community
Like every recent entry by Borsch, this post was short and didn't even try to be funny. Here's the concept:
One doesn’t have to like football to enjoy high school football night. That’s because in many towns, it’s about more than just football, it’s about community.
Get it? It's all about community. Let's see some examples of the great community spirit that Borsch experienced at ye olde Spring-Ford High School football game:
I’ve always enjoyed the atmosphere, the band, the cheerleaders, and the mascot. Spring-Ford’s mascot — Rowdy Ram — is particularly entertaining this year, interacting with fans, especially the younger children.
Hold up, son - a mascot that interacts with FANS and CHILDREN??? What a novel concept! This qualifies the Rowdy Ram as a gracious celeb.
And I’ve always loved the band.
"Here's a list of the things I liked: atmosphere, band, cheerleaders, mascot. Also, I liked the band." Borsch then talks about his own high school band and mentions Dan Fogelberg.
...The cheerleaders, of course, also help complete the experience...
Kinda already covered that.
All in all, high school football night is a great way to get a relatively low-cost evening of entertainment. But more importantly, it provides a wonderful sense of community, the benefits of which one can’t put a price on.
Tell me - what "sense of community" did he describe for us? He heard the band, saw a mascot, and watched cheerleaders. You could do all of these things while watching a game on television by yourself. Where was this wonderful atmosphere? What delightful characters did he interact with in the stands? What we have here is Borsch not having any ideas for a column, so he slaps some BS about "community" onto the boring story of his trip to a high school football game. Pulitzer Prize, here he comes!
Did I mention you should go out and see Rowdy Ram? The youngster in the suit is a hoot.
... Okay.
Published: Thursday, September 15, 2011
By Emily Morris
Souderton Borough Council continues to mull over the option of creating a recreation board to look at overseeing its parks, and primarily its new pool.
“I think if we’re going to create a recreation board, then we at least have to give it some guidelines as to what this recreation board does,” Souderton Mayor John Reynolds said.
Wow. Such depth! Such... such substance! Why is this man not writing Civics textbooks? I think his talents are being squandered.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
S-F football night all about community
Like every recent entry by Borsch, this post was short and didn't even try to be funny. Here's the concept:
One doesn’t have to like football to enjoy high school football night. That’s because in many towns, it’s about more than just football, it’s about community.
Get it? It's all about community. Let's see some examples of the great community spirit that Borsch experienced at ye olde Spring-Ford High School football game:
I’ve always enjoyed the atmosphere, the band, the cheerleaders, and the mascot. Spring-Ford’s mascot — Rowdy Ram — is particularly entertaining this year, interacting with fans, especially the younger children.
Hold up, son - a mascot that interacts with FANS and CHILDREN??? What a novel concept! This qualifies the Rowdy Ram as a gracious celeb.
And I’ve always loved the band.
"Here's a list of the things I liked: atmosphere, band, cheerleaders, mascot. Also, I liked the band." Borsch then talks about his own high school band and mentions Dan Fogelberg.
...The cheerleaders, of course, also help complete the experience...
Kinda already covered that.
All in all, high school football night is a great way to get a relatively low-cost evening of entertainment. But more importantly, it provides a wonderful sense of community, the benefits of which one can’t put a price on.
Tell me - what "sense of community" did he describe for us? He heard the band, saw a mascot, and watched cheerleaders. You could do all of these things while watching a game on television by yourself. Where was this wonderful atmosphere? What delightful characters did he interact with in the stands? What we have here is Borsch not having any ideas for a column, so he slaps some BS about "community" onto the boring story of his trip to a high school football game. Pulitzer Prize, here he comes!
Did I mention you should go out and see Rowdy Ram? The youngster in the suit is a hoot.
... Okay.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
New "Outta Leftfield" Subject: Baseball
Friday, August 12, 2011
Kruk, Williams solidify 'character' personas
We may have discussed how to swing a bat, we may have discussed going to a Yankess game, and we may have discussed Hunter Pence... but I never would have guessed that Borsch would pull this topic out of his hat! BASEBALL!
Remember those two old guy muppets on “The Muppet Show” — their names are Statler and Waldorf — who heckled the rest of the cast from the balcony, then yukked it up at their own jokes?
"Yukked." We're off to a roaring start.
Well, meet the modern-day Statler and Waldorf — Mitch Williams and John Kruk, mainstays of the 1993 Philadelphia Phillies squad that lost the World Series to the Toronto Blue Jays when Williams gave up a series-ending home run to Joe Carter. (Boo-boo, hiss-hiss.)
This is an idiotic statement in several ways. First off, Statler and Waldorf watched someone else's act and mocked it. So unless Williams and Kruk are watching a game and making fun of the players, the comparison doesn't even work. Second, they're making a Muppets movie right now. I'm pretty sure Statler and Waldorf will be in it. Statler and Waldorf are the modern-day Statler and Waldorf, not two untalented talking heads.
Put microphones in front of these two, sit back and prepare to be entertained.
Well hey, they're not Dennis Miller, after all. What is it, Borsch, no remarks about how much fatter Kruk is than you would expect? Maybe you could say they weren't quite as amusing as you had hoped?
They’ve known each other for a long time. Both talk baseball for a living now — Kruk for ESPN’s “Baseball Tonight” and Williams for MLB Network — and both are real characters.
What does one sentence have to do with the other? "These guys are old friends. Here are their jobs."
Kruk in particular has that “grumpy old guy” thing down, even though he’s only 50 years old. You expect him to shout, “Hey you kids, get off my lawn!” at any moment.
Ah, that's the first time we've heard that joke! Really, Borsch, if you're going to call yourself a "humor columnist," you should really have more than one joke per subject. "Old guys? Reference 'getting off lawn' joke." Comedy gold!
During their playing careers, neither Kruk nor Williams was all that fond of answering questions from reporters. But I happened to be standing next to former Phillies pitcher Tommy Greene while Kruk and Williams answered questions from the audience during that part of the festivities.
Again, how do these two sentences relate??? "They don't like answering questions. But I stood next to some guy." Is he writing this column on morphine or something?
Here's an example of the absolutely side-splitting riffs that these two comedic geniuses go off on. Move over, Don Rickles!
“Joe Carter is one of those rare right-handed hitters who likes the ball down and in,” Williams told the crowd. “I knew that, so that pitch was supposed to be up and away.”
“Missed by just a little bit, huh?” Kruk added.
"Added" really isn't the appropriate verb, there. And I'm sure they haven't had that exact same exchange 6,578 other times during public appearances.
Har-har-hardy-har-har. These guys should add a drummer to their act just for the rim shots.
Why, because they had one "funny" exchange? I love how we're supposed to buy their modern-day Statler and Waldorf credentials based on this one quote.
Blue collar guys for a blue collar city. They should never have to buy another beer in this town for as long as they live.
Aaaaaand slam on the breaks! Post's over. He goes from saying how hilarious they are, to providing one example of said hilarity, to saying that they should get free beers for life. Mr. Borsch, as always, is earning his pay.
Kruk, Williams solidify 'character' personas
We may have discussed how to swing a bat, we may have discussed going to a Yankess game, and we may have discussed Hunter Pence... but I never would have guessed that Borsch would pull this topic out of his hat! BASEBALL!
Remember those two old guy muppets on “The Muppet Show” — their names are Statler and Waldorf — who heckled the rest of the cast from the balcony, then yukked it up at their own jokes?
"Yukked." We're off to a roaring start.
Well, meet the modern-day Statler and Waldorf — Mitch Williams and John Kruk, mainstays of the 1993 Philadelphia Phillies squad that lost the World Series to the Toronto Blue Jays when Williams gave up a series-ending home run to Joe Carter. (Boo-boo, hiss-hiss.)
This is an idiotic statement in several ways. First off, Statler and Waldorf watched someone else's act and mocked it. So unless Williams and Kruk are watching a game and making fun of the players, the comparison doesn't even work. Second, they're making a Muppets movie right now. I'm pretty sure Statler and Waldorf will be in it. Statler and Waldorf are the modern-day Statler and Waldorf, not two untalented talking heads.
Put microphones in front of these two, sit back and prepare to be entertained.
Well hey, they're not Dennis Miller, after all. What is it, Borsch, no remarks about how much fatter Kruk is than you would expect? Maybe you could say they weren't quite as amusing as you had hoped?
They’ve known each other for a long time. Both talk baseball for a living now — Kruk for ESPN’s “Baseball Tonight” and Williams for MLB Network — and both are real characters.
What does one sentence have to do with the other? "These guys are old friends. Here are their jobs."
Kruk in particular has that “grumpy old guy” thing down, even though he’s only 50 years old. You expect him to shout, “Hey you kids, get off my lawn!” at any moment.
Ah, that's the first time we've heard that joke! Really, Borsch, if you're going to call yourself a "humor columnist," you should really have more than one joke per subject. "Old guys? Reference 'getting off lawn' joke." Comedy gold!
During their playing careers, neither Kruk nor Williams was all that fond of answering questions from reporters. But I happened to be standing next to former Phillies pitcher Tommy Greene while Kruk and Williams answered questions from the audience during that part of the festivities.
Again, how do these two sentences relate??? "They don't like answering questions. But I stood next to some guy." Is he writing this column on morphine or something?
Here's an example of the absolutely side-splitting riffs that these two comedic geniuses go off on. Move over, Don Rickles!
“Joe Carter is one of those rare right-handed hitters who likes the ball down and in,” Williams told the crowd. “I knew that, so that pitch was supposed to be up and away.”
“Missed by just a little bit, huh?” Kruk added.
"Added" really isn't the appropriate verb, there. And I'm sure they haven't had that exact same exchange 6,578 other times during public appearances.
Har-har-hardy-har-har. These guys should add a drummer to their act just for the rim shots.
Why, because they had one "funny" exchange? I love how we're supposed to buy their modern-day Statler and Waldorf credentials based on this one quote.
Blue collar guys for a blue collar city. They should never have to buy another beer in this town for as long as they live.
Aaaaaand slam on the breaks! Post's over. He goes from saying how hilarious they are, to providing one example of said hilarity, to saying that they should get free beers for life. Mr. Borsch, as always, is earning his pay.
Friday, August 5, 2011
Dare We Call This a Triple-Header?
OUTTA LEFTFIELD: Learning the physics of extension with a swivel chair and tripod
Published: Tuesday, August 02, 2011
By Mike Morsch
Executive Editor
Several new supremely uninteresting offerings from the King of Komedy, Michael Morsch. Highlights from the first one:
Any discussion of physics usually puts me to sleep. But add to that a swivel chair, a video camera tripod and a hotel room at 2:30 a.m. in Lakewood, N.J., and the physics discussion becomes immediately more entertaining … until I fall asleep.
This sounds like the plot of a bad porno film.
It’s not exactly easy to find oneself in a hotel room in the middle of New Jersey listening to someone go on about the physics of hitting a baseball. These kinds of things happen to me because, essentially, I am a big galoot who hangs around with like-minded knuckleheads.
Badabing! We've got baseball, and we've got words like "galoot" and "knuckleheads." Borsch talks about an old friend name John who sounds at least as unamusing as our favorite editor himself, and states that he is a bona fide purveyor of bull puckey. Google suggests that you spell it "bullpucky," but hey, I'm not one to nitpick.
Well, it turns out John is interested in (surprise!) baseball. Did I mention John is bald? I hope you think that's funny, because it's the only joke there is. Borsch also uses the terms "ballgame" and "ballplayers."
Monday, August 1, 2011
A Connecticut Yankee road trip
Branching out into new territory, Borsch decides to focus this effort on the game of baseball. He disguises it as a "precious moments with my daughter"-type post, but watch what Borsch rambles on about:
Our seats in Yankee Stadium ended up being a few rows behind and a few seats over from where Derek Jeter’s 3,000th hit landed in the leftfield bleachers a few weeks ago. The Yankees’ captain was the first Yankee to reach 3,000 career hits — not Ruth, not Gehrig, not DiMaggio, not Mantle. So Jeter’s accomplishment is a pretty big deal for a franchise that’s experienced a lot of pretty big deals in its existence.
Then later, when they actually get to the University of Hartford: Notable UHART graduates include the singer Dionne Warwick and Houston Astros retired first baseman Jeff Bagwell. Really?
He talks about visiting the home of Mark Twain and tries to impress us by telling us that this was merely his pen name. Gee, such arcane knowledge! Next he'll be telling us Muhammad Ali was just a stage name, too. He says he is "a writer of substantially less note" than Twain. This officially qualifies as the understatement of the millenium. I'm not the biggest Twain fan there is, but the thought of Borsch defiling that house with his presence sickens me.
Monday, August 1, 2011
Right field 'Pence-syl-mania'
Borsch's mind is always striving to expand and improve his art. Witness this column, which delves into the heretofore untouched realm of baseball! Here - not showing any discomfort at exploring such unfamiliar territory - he discusses the arrival of outfielder Hunter "The Mantis" Pence.
Let me pause a moment to say that Borsch is not only a bad writer - he's a cowardly hypocrite as well. A mere seven days ago, he had this to say on his Twitter account: I don't know this guy who the Eagles signed and could care less. And Hunter Pence just isn't that good.
But a mere 24 hours later, he directed this Twitter comment to Pence himself: Welcome to Philly. Will be there tonight in rightfield to greet you.
I hope you greet him with only the mildest applause because, you know, he's just not that good.
[Pence] reacted to the attention by waving to the faithful, tipping his cap a couple of times and turning to acknowledge the fans several times during the game.
Woah, a gracious celeb! Who would have thought? Showing that he is, as always, the consummate writer, Borsch follows that sentence with this one:
Pence wears his pants high, to show a lot of red sock. It’s a good look for him.
First: what the hell? And second: saying someone "wears his pants high" makes you think he has the waistline up around the ribcage, not that he just rolls his socks way up. And suddenly Borsch, the man whose lack fashion sense has fueled many a column, knows what a "good look" for anyone is?
Published: Tuesday, August 02, 2011
By Mike Morsch
Executive Editor
Several new supremely uninteresting offerings from the King of Komedy, Michael Morsch. Highlights from the first one:
Any discussion of physics usually puts me to sleep. But add to that a swivel chair, a video camera tripod and a hotel room at 2:30 a.m. in Lakewood, N.J., and the physics discussion becomes immediately more entertaining … until I fall asleep.
This sounds like the plot of a bad porno film.
It’s not exactly easy to find oneself in a hotel room in the middle of New Jersey listening to someone go on about the physics of hitting a baseball. These kinds of things happen to me because, essentially, I am a big galoot who hangs around with like-minded knuckleheads.
Badabing! We've got baseball, and we've got words like "galoot" and "knuckleheads." Borsch talks about an old friend name John who sounds at least as unamusing as our favorite editor himself, and states that he is a bona fide purveyor of bull puckey. Google suggests that you spell it "bullpucky," but hey, I'm not one to nitpick.
Well, it turns out John is interested in (surprise!) baseball. Did I mention John is bald? I hope you think that's funny, because it's the only joke there is. Borsch also uses the terms "ballgame" and "ballplayers."
Monday, August 1, 2011
A Connecticut Yankee road trip
Branching out into new territory, Borsch decides to focus this effort on the game of baseball. He disguises it as a "precious moments with my daughter"-type post, but watch what Borsch rambles on about:
Our seats in Yankee Stadium ended up being a few rows behind and a few seats over from where Derek Jeter’s 3,000th hit landed in the leftfield bleachers a few weeks ago. The Yankees’ captain was the first Yankee to reach 3,000 career hits — not Ruth, not Gehrig, not DiMaggio, not Mantle. So Jeter’s accomplishment is a pretty big deal for a franchise that’s experienced a lot of pretty big deals in its existence.
Then later, when they actually get to the University of Hartford: Notable UHART graduates include the singer Dionne Warwick and Houston Astros retired first baseman Jeff Bagwell. Really?
He talks about visiting the home of Mark Twain and tries to impress us by telling us that this was merely his pen name. Gee, such arcane knowledge! Next he'll be telling us Muhammad Ali was just a stage name, too. He says he is "a writer of substantially less note" than Twain. This officially qualifies as the understatement of the millenium. I'm not the biggest Twain fan there is, but the thought of Borsch defiling that house with his presence sickens me.
Monday, August 1, 2011
Right field 'Pence-syl-mania'
Borsch's mind is always striving to expand and improve his art. Witness this column, which delves into the heretofore untouched realm of baseball! Here - not showing any discomfort at exploring such unfamiliar territory - he discusses the arrival of outfielder Hunter "The Mantis" Pence.
Let me pause a moment to say that Borsch is not only a bad writer - he's a cowardly hypocrite as well. A mere seven days ago, he had this to say on his Twitter account: I don't know this guy who the Eagles signed and could care less. And Hunter Pence just isn't that good.
But a mere 24 hours later, he directed this Twitter comment to Pence himself: Welcome to Philly. Will be there tonight in rightfield to greet you.
I hope you greet him with only the mildest applause because, you know, he's just not that good.
[Pence] reacted to the attention by waving to the faithful, tipping his cap a couple of times and turning to acknowledge the fans several times during the game.
Woah, a gracious celeb! Who would have thought? Showing that he is, as always, the consummate writer, Borsch follows that sentence with this one:
Pence wears his pants high, to show a lot of red sock. It’s a good look for him.
First: what the hell? And second: saying someone "wears his pants high" makes you think he has the waistline up around the ribcage, not that he just rolls his socks way up. And suddenly Borsch, the man whose lack fashion sense has fueled many a column, knows what a "good look" for anyone is?
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
The Return! ... to a Lame Concert Review
Monday, July 18, 2011
Happy together . . . and forever after
This will be the 3rd (third) piece Borsch has oozed out regarding a single oldies concert he went to.
Before I dive into it, though, I wanted to thank "Anonymous" for asking about my unusual lull in posts. The answer: Borsch has been so boring of late that I couldn't even think of anything to say about his articles. More about this later.
My folks had quite a record collection when I was a kid in 1960s. Much if it was hip for its time — The Beatles, The Beach Boys, Elvis and the like. Mostly though, they seemed to favor music that featured harmonies.
Now I'm no musical scholar, but... doesn't "music that featured harmonies" cover a pretty broad range?
One album I absolutely wore out as a kid was “Insight Out” by The Association. It featured two wonderful songs and big hits — “Windy,” which reached No. 1 in 1967 and “Never My Love,” which climbed to No. 2 that same year.
Boring background details established? Check. Now, I'm sure, we can jump into the gut-busting comedy.
The Association was part of the 2011 Happy Together Tour that stopped at the Keswick Theater last week; I was thrilled to get a chance to hear a band that I so fondly remembered from my youth.
... any second now.
There are three current members of The Association who performed on the “Insight Out” album: Larry Ramos, Russ Giguere and Jim Yester. They are pictured as young men on the album cover.
I had interviewed Larry Ramos to preview the Keswick show and got quite a kick listening to him talk about the music of the 1960s.
See what I mean? This has been the kind of stuff he's produced over the past few weeks. Dull tales about interviewing old musicians. And don't get me wrong, I like The Association - I have "Never My Love" on my iPod. But this is terrible. How could he miss the opportunity for a pun on the name "Yester" - "Seeing Yester Brings Back Memories of Yesteryear," for example?
The copy of “Insight Out” that my folks had is long gone, but I found another original copy of the album at a record store in Chestnut Hill a few weeks before the show. I was hoping to get a chance to meet The Association guys and have them sign my album.
Come on, he can't even say something like, "I really wanted to associate with The Association"? Not even making an attempt anymore!
Fortunately, I got to do just that. But it almost didn’t happen.
Ah - suspense, thy name is Borsch.
I shared the Happy Together concert with Older Daughter, which was lucky for me. She was riding shotgun during the autograph-getting portion after the show. I had already secured the signatures of Giguere and Yester on the album cover when Ramos came out for the meet-and-greet. I was so excited to meet him that I forgot to ask him to sign the album. I’m getting older, too, I guess.
This story loses some of its punch when we already know that he will eventually get the signature. If Borsch made "The 6th Sense," he would have included a little disclaimer at the beginning: "You might think Bruce Willis is still alive during some parts of this movie. However, he's actually a ghost. Now, here's the story!"
“Dad, the album!” said Older Daughter, saving the day. The picture that accompanies this item shows Ramos completing the Association autograph trifecta for me.
My daughter, whose big-deal music group is N’SYNC, was familiar with only a few of the songs from the Happy Together show, which also included appearances by The Buckinghams (“Kind of a Drag”); The Grass Roots (“Midnight Confessions”); Mark Lindsay of Paul Revere and the Raiders (“Kicks”); and The Turtles (“Happy Together”).
Again, I'll refer to how Borsch describes himself on his own Twitter account - "Humor columnist dealing with life's little stupidities." Just be honest, sir. That's all I ask.
In addition to meeting the guys from The Association, we also got to meet Carl Giammarese of the Buckinghams and Howard Kaylan of The Turtles and get their signatures.
When I introduced Kaylan to Older Daughter, he said, “You should thank your father for introducing you to good music.”
Is this the joke? I think this is as close to a joke as we're going to get.
With all due respect to N’SYNC, Kaylan is right. There was some great, great music in the 1960s. Older Daughter and I enjoyed seeing all those talented musicians whose songs have stayed with me all these years.
You might say we were happy together.
Pah! This post began and ended on such a saccharine note I think it gave me diabetes. "Happy together... and forever after" sounds like the tagline of some drippy romantic comedy, not how you'd describe an outing with your adult daughter. And are we to believe that seeing this concert - just like keeping score during that Phillies game - will be one of those moments his daughter will relate to her grandchildren years from now?
Please also note - celebrities signing autographs and taking pictures with fans was a featured theme in this post, although he didn't rave about it as he usually does.
Labels: Keswick Theater, Mike Morsch, Montomgery Newspapers, Outta Leftfield, The Association, The Buckinghams, The Turtles
Happy together . . . and forever after
This will be the 3rd (third) piece Borsch has oozed out regarding a single oldies concert he went to.
Before I dive into it, though, I wanted to thank "Anonymous" for asking about my unusual lull in posts. The answer: Borsch has been so boring of late that I couldn't even think of anything to say about his articles. More about this later.
My folks had quite a record collection when I was a kid in 1960s. Much if it was hip for its time — The Beatles, The Beach Boys, Elvis and the like. Mostly though, they seemed to favor music that featured harmonies.
Now I'm no musical scholar, but... doesn't "music that featured harmonies" cover a pretty broad range?
One album I absolutely wore out as a kid was “Insight Out” by The Association. It featured two wonderful songs and big hits — “Windy,” which reached No. 1 in 1967 and “Never My Love,” which climbed to No. 2 that same year.
Boring background details established? Check. Now, I'm sure, we can jump into the gut-busting comedy.
The Association was part of the 2011 Happy Together Tour that stopped at the Keswick Theater last week; I was thrilled to get a chance to hear a band that I so fondly remembered from my youth.
... any second now.
There are three current members of The Association who performed on the “Insight Out” album: Larry Ramos, Russ Giguere and Jim Yester. They are pictured as young men on the album cover.
I had interviewed Larry Ramos to preview the Keswick show and got quite a kick listening to him talk about the music of the 1960s.
See what I mean? This has been the kind of stuff he's produced over the past few weeks. Dull tales about interviewing old musicians. And don't get me wrong, I like The Association - I have "Never My Love" on my iPod. But this is terrible. How could he miss the opportunity for a pun on the name "Yester" - "Seeing Yester Brings Back Memories of Yesteryear," for example?
The copy of “Insight Out” that my folks had is long gone, but I found another original copy of the album at a record store in Chestnut Hill a few weeks before the show. I was hoping to get a chance to meet The Association guys and have them sign my album.
Come on, he can't even say something like, "I really wanted to associate with The Association"? Not even making an attempt anymore!
Fortunately, I got to do just that. But it almost didn’t happen.
Ah - suspense, thy name is Borsch.
I shared the Happy Together concert with Older Daughter, which was lucky for me. She was riding shotgun during the autograph-getting portion after the show. I had already secured the signatures of Giguere and Yester on the album cover when Ramos came out for the meet-and-greet. I was so excited to meet him that I forgot to ask him to sign the album. I’m getting older, too, I guess.
This story loses some of its punch when we already know that he will eventually get the signature. If Borsch made "The 6th Sense," he would have included a little disclaimer at the beginning: "You might think Bruce Willis is still alive during some parts of this movie. However, he's actually a ghost. Now, here's the story!"
“Dad, the album!” said Older Daughter, saving the day. The picture that accompanies this item shows Ramos completing the Association autograph trifecta for me.
My daughter, whose big-deal music group is N’SYNC, was familiar with only a few of the songs from the Happy Together show, which also included appearances by The Buckinghams (“Kind of a Drag”); The Grass Roots (“Midnight Confessions”); Mark Lindsay of Paul Revere and the Raiders (“Kicks”); and The Turtles (“Happy Together”).
Again, I'll refer to how Borsch describes himself on his own Twitter account - "Humor columnist dealing with life's little stupidities." Just be honest, sir. That's all I ask.
In addition to meeting the guys from The Association, we also got to meet Carl Giammarese of the Buckinghams and Howard Kaylan of The Turtles and get their signatures.
When I introduced Kaylan to Older Daughter, he said, “You should thank your father for introducing you to good music.”
Is this the joke? I think this is as close to a joke as we're going to get.
With all due respect to N’SYNC, Kaylan is right. There was some great, great music in the 1960s. Older Daughter and I enjoyed seeing all those talented musicians whose songs have stayed with me all these years.
You might say we were happy together.
Pah! This post began and ended on such a saccharine note I think it gave me diabetes. "Happy together... and forever after" sounds like the tagline of some drippy romantic comedy, not how you'd describe an outing with your adult daughter. And are we to believe that seeing this concert - just like keeping score during that Phillies game - will be one of those moments his daughter will relate to her grandchildren years from now?
Please also note - celebrities signing autographs and taking pictures with fans was a featured theme in this post, although he didn't rave about it as he usually does.
Labels: Keswick Theater, Mike Morsch, Montomgery Newspapers, Outta Leftfield, The Association, The Buckinghams, The Turtles
Monday, June 20, 2011
Borsch - Comedy Scholar
Monday, June 20, 2011
The key was not under my brother
I didn’t know this beforehand, but it turns out Billy Gardell’s mom and my mom have something in common: They both seem to not quite grasp the intricacies of hiding a house key under the front door mat.
My first question was, "Who is Billy Gardell?"
Gardell, star of the hit television series “Mike and Molly,” is also a successful stand-up comic, and like most comics, his ability to observe human nature and then turn it into compelling storytelling can be quite entertaining.
Do comics really engage in much "compelling storytelling"? I Googled Mr. Gardell and found the following information about his "hit" show: he stars as "Mike Biggs," an overweight police officer (his name is BIGGS! GET IT???). He meets a woman at an Overeaters Anonymous meeting and they become "an unlikely pair" (comedy - and fat jokes - ahoy!).
But watch out - they must confront "comments, jokes and criticism" from Mike's "fast-talking partner." Other characters are a "slim, drug-addicted sister," a "nymphomaniac mother" and "a Senegalese waiter" (foreigners are funny!). This show sounds terrible, and is thus right up Borsch's alley.
So there were plenty of laughs to go around Friday night at the Keswick Theater in Glenside. And the key for comedians is to tell stories that the rest of us can relate to.
Wow, attending a local show at the Keswick! If only it was the Sellersville Theater, the cliche would be complete. I like how he's pontificating about comedy like he teaches a college seminar on it or something.
I didn’t get all the details because I was giggling too much, but one of Gardell’s bits included something about his mom leaving a house key under the front door mat for him, then leaving a note on the front door telling him the key was under the mat.
So at the Dennis Miller show, Borsch didn't laugh as much as he hoped. For comedic genius Billy Gardell, he was laughing so hard he couldn't even hear the jokes.
During the summer of 1978, I had completed my first year of college, which for me meant that I had completed my first year of college partying. By the time that summer rolled around, I wasn’t exactly interested in ending the college party season.
This "all I did at college was party" thing is becoming a prominent Borsch trope. It also makes me wonder how he got this job.
One night I was out with my buddies, doing what 19-year-old guys do, and I didn’t get home until around 2 a.m. I’m not sure why, but my parents had not given me a house key.
Compelling storytelling at its finest here, folks.
I opened the screen door to see a note, in my mother’s handwriting, on the front door, barely illuminated by the street light. It read: “The key is under your brother.”
In my state of heightened unawareness, my first thought was: “Why is my brother on the front porch and why is he sitting on the house key?” Six years my junior, he would have been around 12 or 13 years old and it would have been well past his bedtime.
Imagine a stand-up comic using this material. It would bring down the house, right? Right? The crickets would be chirping so loud you couldn't hear the jokes.
It took me a few moments of controlled confusion to deduce that I did indeed know where the key was.
Wow, "heightened unawareness," "controlled confusion"... he's really trying to sound brainy here.
My brother’s name is . . . Matt.
I often wonder if a burglar who hadn’t been out with his buddies all night would have been able to figure it out. Apparently, my mom didn’t think sober burglars would know my brother’s name.
The end? I know I often complain that Borsch uses one lame joke for an entire post. Does it count when a post literally exists to tell a single, lame joke?
Labels: Billy Gardell, Keswick Theater, Mike Morsch, Montgomery Newspapers, Outta Leftfield
The key was not under my brother
I didn’t know this beforehand, but it turns out Billy Gardell’s mom and my mom have something in common: They both seem to not quite grasp the intricacies of hiding a house key under the front door mat.
My first question was, "Who is Billy Gardell?"
Gardell, star of the hit television series “Mike and Molly,” is also a successful stand-up comic, and like most comics, his ability to observe human nature and then turn it into compelling storytelling can be quite entertaining.
Do comics really engage in much "compelling storytelling"? I Googled Mr. Gardell and found the following information about his "hit" show: he stars as "Mike Biggs," an overweight police officer (his name is BIGGS! GET IT???). He meets a woman at an Overeaters Anonymous meeting and they become "an unlikely pair" (comedy - and fat jokes - ahoy!).
But watch out - they must confront "comments, jokes and criticism" from Mike's "fast-talking partner." Other characters are a "slim, drug-addicted sister," a "nymphomaniac mother" and "a Senegalese waiter" (foreigners are funny!). This show sounds terrible, and is thus right up Borsch's alley.
So there were plenty of laughs to go around Friday night at the Keswick Theater in Glenside. And the key for comedians is to tell stories that the rest of us can relate to.
Wow, attending a local show at the Keswick! If only it was the Sellersville Theater, the cliche would be complete. I like how he's pontificating about comedy like he teaches a college seminar on it or something.
I didn’t get all the details because I was giggling too much, but one of Gardell’s bits included something about his mom leaving a house key under the front door mat for him, then leaving a note on the front door telling him the key was under the mat.
So at the Dennis Miller show, Borsch didn't laugh as much as he hoped. For comedic genius Billy Gardell, he was laughing so hard he couldn't even hear the jokes.
During the summer of 1978, I had completed my first year of college, which for me meant that I had completed my first year of college partying. By the time that summer rolled around, I wasn’t exactly interested in ending the college party season.
This "all I did at college was party" thing is becoming a prominent Borsch trope. It also makes me wonder how he got this job.
One night I was out with my buddies, doing what 19-year-old guys do, and I didn’t get home until around 2 a.m. I’m not sure why, but my parents had not given me a house key.
Compelling storytelling at its finest here, folks.
I opened the screen door to see a note, in my mother’s handwriting, on the front door, barely illuminated by the street light. It read: “The key is under your brother.”
In my state of heightened unawareness, my first thought was: “Why is my brother on the front porch and why is he sitting on the house key?” Six years my junior, he would have been around 12 or 13 years old and it would have been well past his bedtime.
Imagine a stand-up comic using this material. It would bring down the house, right? Right? The crickets would be chirping so loud you couldn't hear the jokes.
It took me a few moments of controlled confusion to deduce that I did indeed know where the key was.
Wow, "heightened unawareness," "controlled confusion"... he's really trying to sound brainy here.
My brother’s name is . . . Matt.
I often wonder if a burglar who hadn’t been out with his buddies all night would have been able to figure it out. Apparently, my mom didn’t think sober burglars would know my brother’s name.
The end? I know I often complain that Borsch uses one lame joke for an entire post. Does it count when a post literally exists to tell a single, lame joke?
Labels: Billy Gardell, Keswick Theater, Mike Morsch, Montgomery Newspapers, Outta Leftfield
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Ballparks and recreation
For a humor columnist, this man's supply of topics seems shockingly small, doesn't it?
Big baseball weekend at our house, which isn’t too much out of the ordinary, really.
No kidding.
Leading off was a college tilt as St. Joseph’s took on Temple in a twinbill Saturday afternoon at Skip Wilson Field on the Temple Ambler campus. It was the first time I had gotten to enjoy a game at that particular field and it’s a pretty nice college ballyard.
"Ballyard"? Really? He couldn't have just said "...at that particular field, and it's a pretty nice one"?
This matchup was of particular interest because Father of Blonde Accountant and The Blonde Accountant are both St. Joe’s grads and Pop Pop pitched for the Hawks back in his day. I have no allegiance to either team, but I do enjoy watching college baseball when I get the chance. The accompanying video shows some of those sites and sounds.
Is "Pop Pop" the same person as Father of Blonde Accountant? I like his criteria for an interesting game - out of three, two people went to one of the schools, and the third person doesn't care.
St. Joe’s took both games from the Owls, although we could only stay for the first game. Son of Blonde Accountant had his regular season CYO finale back in Montgomeryville so we headed back for that. Tough day for the youngster as he took the collar and his team lost. But the rain held off until after all baseball was done for the day, so that was good.
What exactly is the theme of this paragraph? Hawks vs. Olws? Game in Montgomeryville? The weather?
On Sunday, Son of Blonde Accountant and I took in the Reading Phillies. We got to see some of the young Phillies prospects — like pitchers J.C. Ramirez and Phillippe Aumont, first baseman Matt Rizzotti and shortstop Freddy Galvis — and the rain held off long enough for the home team to secure a victory.
I must be missing all the jokes so far, by the way. Should we re-name this the "Here's What I Did Today Weblog"?
One of the many wonderful things about baseball is the terminology, of which we heard plenty over the weekend, mostly during the college game.
For example, the following phrases can usually only be heard on the ballfield:
Ah yes, the "ballfield."
— “Lotta hop!” — It means, “Stay aggressive, show a lot of enthusiasm.”
— “Right man, right now” — Refers to having the best hitter at the plate with runners in scoring position able to get a clutch hit and drive in the runs.
That was a tortured sentence.
— “Hum, baby!” — Usually what is said to a pitcher, as in “Hum that pitch in there” or “throw it hard.”
Then of course, there is the umpire bating. Umpiring at the college level in particular is challenging and one must have a thick skin. There is a lot of chirping going on from the benches. Among my favorite lines over the years tossed at umpires:
Wow. So we get three uninteresting bits of baseball jargon, and now we're being "treated" to things Borsch has heard "over the years." Now we're not even talking about the weekend anymore!
— “Hey, poke a hole in that mask!”
— “Hey ump, shake your head, your eyes are stuck!”
Boy, two whole lines, huh? And these sound like the most generic insults one can imagine.
When I played, my dad didn’t get after the umpires too much — and neither did I — because we understood that umpires don’t win or lose ballgames. But when Pop did feel the need to sound off, he was relatively nice about it.
“Wake up ump, you’re missing a good game!”
Okay, no, THAT'S the most generic insult one can imagine. And what's with all these pointless digressions? Can we please settle on a theme for this post?
One of my alternative activities over the weekend was to go shopping with The Blonde Accountant for a new kitchen faucet.
You have got to be kidding me. This is terrible. What is this supposed to be about? And how is any of it funny?
Although that still has to happen, I believe this weekend qualified as an example of another common phrase: “Can’t beat fun at the old ballpark.”
But I thought the other phrases were UNcommon, because you'd only hear them at a baseball game. We'll have to take his word that any of this was fun, though, because he did such a terrible job of describing it.
Labels: Mike Morsch, Montgomery Newspapers, Outta Leftfield, Reading Phillies, St. Joseph's, Temple Ambler
On a side note, we've passed the 150-post mark at Inta Rightfield. The majority of these have been Borsch-related, and the most frightening thing is, he's getting worse. He's still writing about the same things, using the same jokes. His choice of topics is slowly dwindling down to four: concerts he sees, things he can't do, stories he reads on the Internet, and baseball.
More disturbing is his shameless abuse of sentiment; he's hawked his so-called "tribute" to his deceased uncles several times in search of awards. There is seemingly no depth to which he will not sink.
Ballparks and recreation
For a humor columnist, this man's supply of topics seems shockingly small, doesn't it?
Big baseball weekend at our house, which isn’t too much out of the ordinary, really.
No kidding.
Leading off was a college tilt as St. Joseph’s took on Temple in a twinbill Saturday afternoon at Skip Wilson Field on the Temple Ambler campus. It was the first time I had gotten to enjoy a game at that particular field and it’s a pretty nice college ballyard.
"Ballyard"? Really? He couldn't have just said "...at that particular field, and it's a pretty nice one"?
This matchup was of particular interest because Father of Blonde Accountant and The Blonde Accountant are both St. Joe’s grads and Pop Pop pitched for the Hawks back in his day. I have no allegiance to either team, but I do enjoy watching college baseball when I get the chance. The accompanying video shows some of those sites and sounds.
Is "Pop Pop" the same person as Father of Blonde Accountant? I like his criteria for an interesting game - out of three, two people went to one of the schools, and the third person doesn't care.
St. Joe’s took both games from the Owls, although we could only stay for the first game. Son of Blonde Accountant had his regular season CYO finale back in Montgomeryville so we headed back for that. Tough day for the youngster as he took the collar and his team lost. But the rain held off until after all baseball was done for the day, so that was good.
What exactly is the theme of this paragraph? Hawks vs. Olws? Game in Montgomeryville? The weather?
On Sunday, Son of Blonde Accountant and I took in the Reading Phillies. We got to see some of the young Phillies prospects — like pitchers J.C. Ramirez and Phillippe Aumont, first baseman Matt Rizzotti and shortstop Freddy Galvis — and the rain held off long enough for the home team to secure a victory.
I must be missing all the jokes so far, by the way. Should we re-name this the "Here's What I Did Today Weblog"?
One of the many wonderful things about baseball is the terminology, of which we heard plenty over the weekend, mostly during the college game.
For example, the following phrases can usually only be heard on the ballfield:
Ah yes, the "ballfield."
— “Lotta hop!” — It means, “Stay aggressive, show a lot of enthusiasm.”
— “Right man, right now” — Refers to having the best hitter at the plate with runners in scoring position able to get a clutch hit and drive in the runs.
That was a tortured sentence.
— “Hum, baby!” — Usually what is said to a pitcher, as in “Hum that pitch in there” or “throw it hard.”
Then of course, there is the umpire bating. Umpiring at the college level in particular is challenging and one must have a thick skin. There is a lot of chirping going on from the benches. Among my favorite lines over the years tossed at umpires:
Wow. So we get three uninteresting bits of baseball jargon, and now we're being "treated" to things Borsch has heard "over the years." Now we're not even talking about the weekend anymore!
— “Hey, poke a hole in that mask!”
— “Hey ump, shake your head, your eyes are stuck!”
Boy, two whole lines, huh? And these sound like the most generic insults one can imagine.
When I played, my dad didn’t get after the umpires too much — and neither did I — because we understood that umpires don’t win or lose ballgames. But when Pop did feel the need to sound off, he was relatively nice about it.
“Wake up ump, you’re missing a good game!”
Okay, no, THAT'S the most generic insult one can imagine. And what's with all these pointless digressions? Can we please settle on a theme for this post?
One of my alternative activities over the weekend was to go shopping with The Blonde Accountant for a new kitchen faucet.
You have got to be kidding me. This is terrible. What is this supposed to be about? And how is any of it funny?
Although that still has to happen, I believe this weekend qualified as an example of another common phrase: “Can’t beat fun at the old ballpark.”
But I thought the other phrases were UNcommon, because you'd only hear them at a baseball game. We'll have to take his word that any of this was fun, though, because he did such a terrible job of describing it.
Labels: Mike Morsch, Montgomery Newspapers, Outta Leftfield, Reading Phillies, St. Joseph's, Temple Ambler
On a side note, we've passed the 150-post mark at Inta Rightfield. The majority of these have been Borsch-related, and the most frightening thing is, he's getting worse. He's still writing about the same things, using the same jokes. His choice of topics is slowly dwindling down to four: concerts he sees, things he can't do, stories he reads on the Internet, and baseball.
More disturbing is his shameless abuse of sentiment; he's hawked his so-called "tribute" to his deceased uncles several times in search of awards. There is seemingly no depth to which he will not sink.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Nonsensical
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Spring-Ford's 'Seussical' simply spectacular
Two thoughts. One: Borsch obviously knows someone who is personally involved with this production and is using his humor blog to promote it. Two: Another "I saw something and liked it" post?
Who doesn’t like Dr. Seuss?
Hitler.
I always enjoyed reading the books to my kids when they were youngsters, especially “Hop on Pop” and “One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish.”
So it wouldn’t really be much of a stretch for me to enjoy last weekend’s performance of “Seussical” at Spring-Ford High School.
How lame and uncreative is that intro? "I like Dr. Seuss. So does everyone else. Therefore, I liked this show I went to." The readers of 12 newspapers can link to this! Put some pride into it!
That in and of itself would be good enough, but the fact that Younger Daughter was the stage manager for the production made it even sweeter.
... And there we have it. Please see last year's hilarious entry about the "Beauty and the Beast" show the kids put on.
I never underestimate the high school productions in this area. They are wonderful opportunities for young people to showcase their talents.
This production is a talent showcase - don't underestimate it! What sense does that make?
While I’m more familiar with the Spring-Ford performances because I have a daughter who has been involved with them throughout her high school years, I’m sure other parents with children in other area schools feel the same as I do, as they should.
So first he says that he never "underestimates" high school shows "in this area." We can read "I'm more familiar with... Spring-Ford" as "I've never seen a show other than Spring-Ford's." But hey, he assumes that other parents "feel the same way" (what exactly does he feel again?), so it's all good.
Under the direction of teacher Aimee Oblak, the kids did a fabulous job with “Seussical.” It looked to be a lot of hard work by everyone involved to stage this show.
"Fabulous." "Looked to be a lot of hard work." Why isn't this man writing reviews for the Times???
And the orchestra, led by musical director Joseph Perry, was absolutely stellar. I love seeing young people have the opportunity to explore their musical talents.
Of course, I’m biased because I have a daughter who was an integral part of the production.
The mind boggles at how many generic superlatives he will heap upon her.
While I was impressed with all the performers, I have come to particularly like watching the work of Adam Speelhoffer, who played General Gengus Khan Schmitz in “Seussical.” He’s one of Younger Daughter’s pals, and seems like a decent kid on those times that I’ve met him, which probably explains why I like him.
So his performance was great for the following reasons:
1.) Friend of daughter
2.) *Decent kid
*Seems to be
In addition, he is a fellow of size, like me, and he has a stage presence that I quite enjoy.
3.) Is fat
As you can see by the accompanying picture, Younger Daughter was quite pleased with Saturday evening’s performance. According to her, there were no glitches from the stage manager’s perspective. I’m so proud of my baby girl and I’m happy that she was happy with the production.
Well if he's happy that she's happy, I'm happy. Even though we get no details about the show, no interesting backstage stories... and no comedic material.
Labels: `, Mike Morsch, Montgomery Newspapers, Outta Leftfield, Seussical, Spring-Ford High School
That's right - he labeled an apostrophe.
Spring-Ford's 'Seussical' simply spectacular
Two thoughts. One: Borsch obviously knows someone who is personally involved with this production and is using his humor blog to promote it. Two: Another "I saw something and liked it" post?
Who doesn’t like Dr. Seuss?
Hitler.
I always enjoyed reading the books to my kids when they were youngsters, especially “Hop on Pop” and “One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish.”
So it wouldn’t really be much of a stretch for me to enjoy last weekend’s performance of “Seussical” at Spring-Ford High School.
How lame and uncreative is that intro? "I like Dr. Seuss. So does everyone else. Therefore, I liked this show I went to." The readers of 12 newspapers can link to this! Put some pride into it!
That in and of itself would be good enough, but the fact that Younger Daughter was the stage manager for the production made it even sweeter.
... And there we have it. Please see last year's hilarious entry about the "Beauty and the Beast" show the kids put on.
I never underestimate the high school productions in this area. They are wonderful opportunities for young people to showcase their talents.
This production is a talent showcase - don't underestimate it! What sense does that make?
While I’m more familiar with the Spring-Ford performances because I have a daughter who has been involved with them throughout her high school years, I’m sure other parents with children in other area schools feel the same as I do, as they should.
So first he says that he never "underestimates" high school shows "in this area." We can read "I'm more familiar with... Spring-Ford" as "I've never seen a show other than Spring-Ford's." But hey, he assumes that other parents "feel the same way" (what exactly does he feel again?), so it's all good.
Under the direction of teacher Aimee Oblak, the kids did a fabulous job with “Seussical.” It looked to be a lot of hard work by everyone involved to stage this show.
"Fabulous." "Looked to be a lot of hard work." Why isn't this man writing reviews for the Times???
And the orchestra, led by musical director Joseph Perry, was absolutely stellar. I love seeing young people have the opportunity to explore their musical talents.
Of course, I’m biased because I have a daughter who was an integral part of the production.
The mind boggles at how many generic superlatives he will heap upon her.
While I was impressed with all the performers, I have come to particularly like watching the work of Adam Speelhoffer, who played General Gengus Khan Schmitz in “Seussical.” He’s one of Younger Daughter’s pals, and seems like a decent kid on those times that I’ve met him, which probably explains why I like him.
So his performance was great for the following reasons:
1.) Friend of daughter
2.) *Decent kid
*Seems to be
In addition, he is a fellow of size, like me, and he has a stage presence that I quite enjoy.
3.) Is fat
As you can see by the accompanying picture, Younger Daughter was quite pleased with Saturday evening’s performance. According to her, there were no glitches from the stage manager’s perspective. I’m so proud of my baby girl and I’m happy that she was happy with the production.
Well if he's happy that she's happy, I'm happy. Even though we get no details about the show, no interesting backstage stories... and no comedic material.
Labels: `, Mike Morsch, Montgomery Newspapers, Outta Leftfield, Seussical, Spring-Ford High School
That's right - he labeled an apostrophe.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
A... movie review? Maybe?
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Crocodile rockin' at the movies
It's been quite a while since we've had one of these "I saw a movie and liked it" posts.
Garden gnomes. Hulk Hogan. Elton John’s music.
I never thought I’d use that series of words in the same paragraph.
Seven words equals a "paragraph"? Seems kinda grandiose.
Elton John has never sung Hulk Hogan songs, Hulk Hogan has never rassled Elton John and garden gnomes, well, I think they’re kind of cool and have three of them in my front yard.
This sentence is so confusing. What's a "Hulk Hogan song"? Why must he say "rassled"? Why does the "well" seem so awkward?
When I see the tips of their red hats start to emerge from the snow, I know spring is at hand. But they really don’t have anything to do with those two pop culture icons.
We have now established the fact that these three things don't have much in common.
Until now, thanks to the movie “Gnomeo and Juliet,” currently in theaters. My affinity for gnomes and Elton John music — I’ve seen him in concert at least once in each of the last four decades — attracted me to the flick, especially because it features a fabulously updated version of Sir Elton’s “Crocodile Rock,” which he sings with Nelly Furtado
You heard right, folks - he loves Elton John so much he has attended AT LEAST four of his concerts in the last 40 years! Now there's a fan. And yes, he missed a period after "Nelly Furtado". Way to proofread.
So along with Younger Daughter, a month removed from her 17th birthday, we finally coordinated schedules and were able to see the movie Sunday evening.
So who else did they see the movie with? "Along with Younger Daughter" implies there was a third party present.
Throughout the previews and for the first several minutes of the movie, we were the only ones in the Oaks theater, which we determined would provide a great opportunity to get up and dance during “Crocodile Rock” without fear of embarrassment.
Unfortunately, four other people did enter the theater moments later, which is probably a good thing because Elton himself —executive producer of the movie — would have probably jumped through the screen to tell me to sit down and quit embarrassing myself.
But... I thought he could dance "without fear of embarrassment." It seems like an odd idea that Elton's status as executive producer somehow gives him the power to "jump through the screen."
The movie — based, of course, on Bill Shakespeare’s work —
Damn you, sir. Don't drag Shakespeare through the mud by mentioning him here. Do you think Borsch has ever read a Shakespeare play? Probably not - no baseball, hot dogs or country music material in them.
boasts the voices of some top-shelf acting talent like James McAvoy (Gnomeo), Emily Blunt (Juliet) Maggie Smith (Lady Blueberry, Gnomeo’s mom), Michael Caine (Lord Redbrick, Juliet’s dad) and of course Hulk Hogan, who plays the voice of a lawn mower called the “Terrafirminator” in all his growly rasslin’ fervor. (Those of you who refuse to put Hogan in the same category as those other actors and actresses obviously haven’t seen “Mr. Nanny.”)
I would have picked "Suburban Commando" as Mr. Hogan's true tour-de-force, but Borsch and I will just have to agree to disagree. Maggie Smith and Michael Caine, okay... but James McAvoy and Emily Blunt now qualify as "top-shelf acting talent"?
Of course, the movie is wonderfully cute and sweet and the Elton John songs are, well Elton John songs, and they’re just as good in the context of a kids’ film as they’ve ever been in any other context.
"Of course"? As though it goes without saying that the film is cute and sweet? Why? We have another awkward use of "well," this time without a comma after it so that we get the odd "well Elton John songs". And we get a truly ludicrous number of superlatives about context.
But the main takeaway was that my teenage daughter didn’t mind going to this film with her old man. Because I’m so old I remember when rock was young. And as it turned out, me and her, we had so much fun.
Really - that's the "main takeaway"? That's odd, because the entire column has been about Elton John and the film's "all-star" cast. Also, please note the classic Borsch strategy of using song lyrics in sentence form.
Labels: Mike Morsch, Montgomery Newspapers, Outta Leftfield
Hey, here's an idea - how about labeling it with "Elton John," "Gnomeo and Juliet," or "Oaks Theater"? No? Okay then.
Crocodile rockin' at the movies
It's been quite a while since we've had one of these "I saw a movie and liked it" posts.
Garden gnomes. Hulk Hogan. Elton John’s music.
I never thought I’d use that series of words in the same paragraph.
Seven words equals a "paragraph"? Seems kinda grandiose.
Elton John has never sung Hulk Hogan songs, Hulk Hogan has never rassled Elton John and garden gnomes, well, I think they’re kind of cool and have three of them in my front yard.
This sentence is so confusing. What's a "Hulk Hogan song"? Why must he say "rassled"? Why does the "well" seem so awkward?
When I see the tips of their red hats start to emerge from the snow, I know spring is at hand. But they really don’t have anything to do with those two pop culture icons.
We have now established the fact that these three things don't have much in common.
Until now, thanks to the movie “Gnomeo and Juliet,” currently in theaters. My affinity for gnomes and Elton John music — I’ve seen him in concert at least once in each of the last four decades — attracted me to the flick, especially because it features a fabulously updated version of Sir Elton’s “Crocodile Rock,” which he sings with Nelly Furtado
You heard right, folks - he loves Elton John so much he has attended AT LEAST four of his concerts in the last 40 years! Now there's a fan. And yes, he missed a period after "Nelly Furtado". Way to proofread.
So along with Younger Daughter, a month removed from her 17th birthday, we finally coordinated schedules and were able to see the movie Sunday evening.
So who else did they see the movie with? "Along with Younger Daughter" implies there was a third party present.
Throughout the previews and for the first several minutes of the movie, we were the only ones in the Oaks theater, which we determined would provide a great opportunity to get up and dance during “Crocodile Rock” without fear of embarrassment.
Unfortunately, four other people did enter the theater moments later, which is probably a good thing because Elton himself —executive producer of the movie — would have probably jumped through the screen to tell me to sit down and quit embarrassing myself.
But... I thought he could dance "without fear of embarrassment." It seems like an odd idea that Elton's status as executive producer somehow gives him the power to "jump through the screen."
The movie — based, of course, on Bill Shakespeare’s work —
Damn you, sir. Don't drag Shakespeare through the mud by mentioning him here. Do you think Borsch has ever read a Shakespeare play? Probably not - no baseball, hot dogs or country music material in them.
boasts the voices of some top-shelf acting talent like James McAvoy (Gnomeo), Emily Blunt (Juliet) Maggie Smith (Lady Blueberry, Gnomeo’s mom), Michael Caine (Lord Redbrick, Juliet’s dad) and of course Hulk Hogan, who plays the voice of a lawn mower called the “Terrafirminator” in all his growly rasslin’ fervor. (Those of you who refuse to put Hogan in the same category as those other actors and actresses obviously haven’t seen “Mr. Nanny.”)
I would have picked "Suburban Commando" as Mr. Hogan's true tour-de-force, but Borsch and I will just have to agree to disagree. Maggie Smith and Michael Caine, okay... but James McAvoy and Emily Blunt now qualify as "top-shelf acting talent"?
Of course, the movie is wonderfully cute and sweet and the Elton John songs are, well Elton John songs, and they’re just as good in the context of a kids’ film as they’ve ever been in any other context.
"Of course"? As though it goes without saying that the film is cute and sweet? Why? We have another awkward use of "well," this time without a comma after it so that we get the odd "well Elton John songs". And we get a truly ludicrous number of superlatives about context.
But the main takeaway was that my teenage daughter didn’t mind going to this film with her old man. Because I’m so old I remember when rock was young. And as it turned out, me and her, we had so much fun.
Really - that's the "main takeaway"? That's odd, because the entire column has been about Elton John and the film's "all-star" cast. Also, please note the classic Borsch strategy of using song lyrics in sentence form.
Labels: Mike Morsch, Montgomery Newspapers, Outta Leftfield
Hey, here's an idea - how about labeling it with "Elton John," "Gnomeo and Juliet," or "Oaks Theater"? No? Okay then.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
A Plea for Help
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Bobblehead immortality
Having read nothing but the title, I'm guessing that this hilarious entry in the Borsch canon will be an add for a contest that gets your face on a bobblehead.
Whenever I get a hankering for some home cooking, I can usually count on my boyhood friend Greg Batton to help me out.
Ah, a little walk down the "growing up in Illinois" pathway, eh? Greg is notorious for being slightly more amusing that his boyhood friend Mike.
Greg and his partner Dan Diorio are morning radio personalities at 1470 WMBD radio in Peoria. I’ve had the pleasure of being on their show a few times over the years when I’m back in Illinois visiting family.
Wow! Why, that practically makes you a celebrity!
And every once in a while — usually when it snows two feet at a time here in Philly — they’ll call me at some ridiculously early hour of the morning and put me on the air to tell the people of Peoria that, yes, it does indeed snow a whole bunch in Philly sometimes. I’m not sure how useful that information is to folks in central Illinois, but we yuk it up and have a good time with it.
Woo-hoo! Only a truly zany morning radio host would think to discuss the weather - always a topic that provides plentiful "yuks."
One time a few years ago, Greg offered his listeners a “What Can I Do For You” campaign on his Facebook page. Essentially, he wanted to do something nice for someone. It was no surprise, he’s been a nice guy his entire life.
That comma should be a semicolon.
It so happened that the day after that Facebook posting, I was headed to Yankee Stadium for a ballgame, so I posted on his Facebook that evening, “You can buy me a hotdog tomorrow at Yankee Stadium.”
Heading to Yankee Stadium for a ballgame... that's a new one on me. And Greg can't be a very nice guy if the thing he does for someone is buy a hotdog for Borsch to ram down his gullet.
I knew that would get him. Greg loves a goofy challenge like that. Radio guys are that way when it comes to goofy stuff.
Well, the guy tried and tried, utilizing every connection he had between Peoria and New York, to get that hotdog to me, but to no avail. Not to be deterred, a few days later, a dozen hotdogs were delivered to my office from a restaurant in Fort Washington.
Because if there's anything he needs, it's more hot dogs. Is this really "funny" material? Is this an "amusing" story?
They weren’t Yankee Stadium hotdogs, but they were even better because Greg had gone to such trouble from halfway across the country to fulfill my request.
Recently, I wanted something else that can only be found in Peoria — it’s called a gondola, which is sort of the central Illinois version of a hoagie, only better. It’s made at a Peoria eatery called Avanti’s and I’ve been going there since I was a kid for that sandwich.
This would be a terribly boring story even if you were just telling it to a friend at the office. Does he really think that the rest of the world cares what kind of sandwiches he got as a kid?
And once again, Greg is on top of this request. But this time, I can do something for him in return.
The Peoria Chiefs, the Chicago Cubs’ Class A minor league baseball team, is running an online “media bobblehead contest.” Personalities from several different media in the Peoria area are involved. The one who gets the most online votes will eventually have his/her likeness on a bobblehead produced by the team.
How cool is that?
The title of the post is "Bobblehead Immortality." We are 2/3 of the way through the post before the first bobblehead reference is made. Thank goodness we got that hilarious hot dog story though!
Greg says that if he and Dan win the promotion and end up being immortalized with their own bobblehead, (since they are a team, they have to “share” one head of the bobble, and I’m not sure how that’s going to work) then he’ll make good on my Avanti’s gondolas request.
I don’t know how he’ll get them out here to Philly in edible condition, but believe me when I say these sammiches are good enough for this kind of effort, and I’m confident that he’ll find a way.
"Sammich." I hate this man.
So I’m calling for Philly for be the difference maker here by voting for Greg and Dan to win this promotion and for me to get my gondolas. Go to www.peoriachiefs.com/mediabobblehead and vote often.
If anything - anything - counts as a "Blatant Promotion Alert," this is it. He has two points to this column:
1.) Help personal friend win contest
2.) Obtain sandwiches
He's not even bothering to be funny about it. Someone, please, take away this man's keyboard.
If the gondolas do actually make their way to Philly, I’ll invite a handful of you over to share a taste of the Midwest.
They really are that good.
We all know he'd never share food with anyone.
Labels: Mike Morsch, Montgomery Newspapers, Outta Leftfield
Does he understand what a "label" is? And fine, if he wants to label his own blog with his own name and the blog title, fine... but how are ANY of these related to Montgomery Newspapers?
Bobblehead immortality
Having read nothing but the title, I'm guessing that this hilarious entry in the Borsch canon will be an add for a contest that gets your face on a bobblehead.
Whenever I get a hankering for some home cooking, I can usually count on my boyhood friend Greg Batton to help me out.
Ah, a little walk down the "growing up in Illinois" pathway, eh? Greg is notorious for being slightly more amusing that his boyhood friend Mike.
Greg and his partner Dan Diorio are morning radio personalities at 1470 WMBD radio in Peoria. I’ve had the pleasure of being on their show a few times over the years when I’m back in Illinois visiting family.
Wow! Why, that practically makes you a celebrity!
And every once in a while — usually when it snows two feet at a time here in Philly — they’ll call me at some ridiculously early hour of the morning and put me on the air to tell the people of Peoria that, yes, it does indeed snow a whole bunch in Philly sometimes. I’m not sure how useful that information is to folks in central Illinois, but we yuk it up and have a good time with it.
Woo-hoo! Only a truly zany morning radio host would think to discuss the weather - always a topic that provides plentiful "yuks."
One time a few years ago, Greg offered his listeners a “What Can I Do For You” campaign on his Facebook page. Essentially, he wanted to do something nice for someone. It was no surprise, he’s been a nice guy his entire life.
That comma should be a semicolon.
It so happened that the day after that Facebook posting, I was headed to Yankee Stadium for a ballgame, so I posted on his Facebook that evening, “You can buy me a hotdog tomorrow at Yankee Stadium.”
Heading to Yankee Stadium for a ballgame... that's a new one on me. And Greg can't be a very nice guy if the thing he does for someone is buy a hotdog for Borsch to ram down his gullet.
I knew that would get him. Greg loves a goofy challenge like that. Radio guys are that way when it comes to goofy stuff.
Well, the guy tried and tried, utilizing every connection he had between Peoria and New York, to get that hotdog to me, but to no avail. Not to be deterred, a few days later, a dozen hotdogs were delivered to my office from a restaurant in Fort Washington.
Because if there's anything he needs, it's more hot dogs. Is this really "funny" material? Is this an "amusing" story?
They weren’t Yankee Stadium hotdogs, but they were even better because Greg had gone to such trouble from halfway across the country to fulfill my request.
Recently, I wanted something else that can only be found in Peoria — it’s called a gondola, which is sort of the central Illinois version of a hoagie, only better. It’s made at a Peoria eatery called Avanti’s and I’ve been going there since I was a kid for that sandwich.
This would be a terribly boring story even if you were just telling it to a friend at the office. Does he really think that the rest of the world cares what kind of sandwiches he got as a kid?
And once again, Greg is on top of this request. But this time, I can do something for him in return.
The Peoria Chiefs, the Chicago Cubs’ Class A minor league baseball team, is running an online “media bobblehead contest.” Personalities from several different media in the Peoria area are involved. The one who gets the most online votes will eventually have his/her likeness on a bobblehead produced by the team.
How cool is that?
The title of the post is "Bobblehead Immortality." We are 2/3 of the way through the post before the first bobblehead reference is made. Thank goodness we got that hilarious hot dog story though!
Greg says that if he and Dan win the promotion and end up being immortalized with their own bobblehead, (since they are a team, they have to “share” one head of the bobble, and I’m not sure how that’s going to work) then he’ll make good on my Avanti’s gondolas request.
I don’t know how he’ll get them out here to Philly in edible condition, but believe me when I say these sammiches are good enough for this kind of effort, and I’m confident that he’ll find a way.
"Sammich." I hate this man.
So I’m calling for Philly for be the difference maker here by voting for Greg and Dan to win this promotion and for me to get my gondolas. Go to www.peoriachiefs.com/mediabobblehead and vote often.
If anything - anything - counts as a "Blatant Promotion Alert," this is it. He has two points to this column:
1.) Help personal friend win contest
2.) Obtain sandwiches
He's not even bothering to be funny about it. Someone, please, take away this man's keyboard.
If the gondolas do actually make their way to Philly, I’ll invite a handful of you over to share a taste of the Midwest.
They really are that good.
We all know he'd never share food with anyone.
Labels: Mike Morsch, Montgomery Newspapers, Outta Leftfield
Does he understand what a "label" is? And fine, if he wants to label his own blog with his own name and the blog title, fine... but how are ANY of these related to Montgomery Newspapers?
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
(Boring) Slice O' Life
Borsch's preview of his latest "effort," per Twitter:
A dad's perspective on teen daughter's first formal high school dance.
Just for fun, I'll make a few predictions. This column will include:
1.) A mention of Borsch's own childhood growing up in rural Illinois.
2.) A reference to scaring/intimidating the daughter's date.
3.) His wife will correct him on some simple point of etiquette.
Outta Leftfield
No noogies needed in the lead-up to first formal high school dance
Published: Wednesday, February 09, 2011
By Mike Morsch
GAAAAAAAH!!! Nice shirt.
Most dads — and in this instance, stepdads — have their own set of rules about young suitors knocking on the door and attempting to woo the teenage females of the household. Nobody but the dads pays any attention to these rules, but they should. We know what we’re talking about here because we used to be teenage boys ourselves — albeit a long time ago — and we know what those guys are thinking.
We are heading in the predictable, cliched direction I was hoping for. Bravo, Borsch.
That high school rite of passage — the formal dance — is usually the first opportunity we dads get to employ the rules. My rules aren’t actually for the young men, because they won’t pay any attention to them anyway. No, my rules are for the young women who live under the same roof as I and for those with the same last name as me.
Regardless of whether the "I" and "me" are correct, that was one horrendous sentence. I like how he's placing the burden of responsibility entirely on the female because "boys will be boys."
They are very simple rules and there are only three:
(1) Do not bring home any jamokes like your mom did.
"Jamokes"! I've never heard him say that before.
(2) Exercise due diligence in your advanced scouting of potential suitors.
(3) And rest assured I will embarrass you by giving your date a noogie if there is even a hint of him stepping out of line.
The "advance scouting" thing in #2 smacks of baseball... and what the heck does it mean, anyway? Isn't it basically the same thing as #1? I'm going to count #3 as a fulfillment of one of my predictions.
I’m sure other dads have other rules (some of which have already been turned into a sitcom) that are likely more intimidating than dishing out noogies to knuckleheads.
"Knuckleheads"! I've never heard him say that before. I like how he references the now-defunct John Ritter's now-defunct sitcom, too.
But I believe the embarrassment factor is more effective than, say, a kick in the hind end. With the way the guys wear their pants these days that would end up being a kick in the back of the knees, which is fine by me because I can’t lift my leg up any higher anyway.
Old guy/parent cliche #1 - Complaining about how kids wear their pants so low nowadays.
Because she goes to an all-girls school, Daughter of Blonde Accountant was responsible for securing a date to her first formal dance as a freshman. I’m sure that is a daunting task in and of itself for a 15-year-old, and the end result was that we got down to the week of the dance and her mother and I had very little information about the young man or the upcoming shindig.
The boredom factor here just jumped to 9.
With only 24 hours to go before the big dance, lack of solid information brought out the first threat — that I would give the guy a noogie as soon as he set foot in my house if we didn’t get some more details. Who is he? Where does he go to school? Where does he live? What are the names of his parents?
That noogie joke is SO FUNNY it almost makes me forget that he used it just a couple paragraphs ago!
Well, it all got straightened out eventually and we got our answers. The Blonde Accountant connected with the other mom and the logistics of the evening were formalized.
... Oh. That's... a relief? I guess? I was hoping the situation would provide for some more comical threats and whatnot.
Daughter of Blonde Accountant looked stunning in her formal evening wear as we waited for the young man and his mother to arrive at our house for the picture taking session prior to departing for the dance.
Nice, succinct writing there Borsch.
I know kids love having their pictures taken during milestones in life and I believe the 784 shots that I got of the flower exchange should sufficiently preserve the memory for all those interested.
That number is hilariously high! Over seven hundred pictures! Wahoooo!
I am happy to report that upon first impression, the lad appears to have had the benefit of good genes and stellar parenting. He was tall and handsome, polite, had a firm handshake, was a spiffy dresser and had the same haircut I had in 1975. What’s not to like? No noogie needed, which is good because I probably would have suffered some knuckle damage trying to get through that head of hair.
Thank goodness - I'm so glad everything turned out so well and, you know, unamusing.
The Blonde Accountant was tabbed to drive the early shift, which included a pregame soiree at another house with several other young couples. I was slated to drive the late shift, which as it turned out included an unplanned after-event at a pizza joint.
Show of hands - does anybody still use the phrase "pizza joint"?
Not wanting to intrude, I sat in the car and waited for the kids, listening to ’70s music on the radio and trying to recall my first formal high school dance. I believe my ensemble for the evening included a blue velvet bowtie. I don’t recall the girl’s dad giving me a noogie, so I must have presented well enough despite the tie.
I'm counting that as fulfilling my first prediction. I also like the picture of Borsch sitting forlornly in his car the whole time... wouldn't he just offer to pick them up later?
After we dropped the young man off at his home, Daughter of Blonde Accountant chimed in.
“Did you like him?” she asked.
“Yes, I did,” I answered, heartened that my approval was sought.
That's sad... like an abused dog wagging its tail at a kind word.
“Ya, he’s really nice. And not a jamoke,” she offered.
“No, he’s not a jamoke. Well done,” I said.
“Thanks. Advanced scouting.”
Two explanations for this: 1.) The above exchange is completely made-up; 2.) Daughter is mocking Borsch and he doesn't realize it. The second option is even worse, because it means he ripped off his own daughter earlier in the column.
Atta girl. Sometimes we wonder if our teenagers are listening to us. It’s a comfort to know that they are paying attention.
Even if it's only to secretly mock you, right?
A dad's perspective on teen daughter's first formal high school dance.
Just for fun, I'll make a few predictions. This column will include:
1.) A mention of Borsch's own childhood growing up in rural Illinois.
2.) A reference to scaring/intimidating the daughter's date.
3.) His wife will correct him on some simple point of etiquette.
Outta Leftfield
No noogies needed in the lead-up to first formal high school dance
Published: Wednesday, February 09, 2011
By Mike Morsch
GAAAAAAAH!!! Nice shirt.
Most dads — and in this instance, stepdads — have their own set of rules about young suitors knocking on the door and attempting to woo the teenage females of the household. Nobody but the dads pays any attention to these rules, but they should. We know what we’re talking about here because we used to be teenage boys ourselves — albeit a long time ago — and we know what those guys are thinking.
We are heading in the predictable, cliched direction I was hoping for. Bravo, Borsch.
That high school rite of passage — the formal dance — is usually the first opportunity we dads get to employ the rules. My rules aren’t actually for the young men, because they won’t pay any attention to them anyway. No, my rules are for the young women who live under the same roof as I and for those with the same last name as me.
Regardless of whether the "I" and "me" are correct, that was one horrendous sentence. I like how he's placing the burden of responsibility entirely on the female because "boys will be boys."
They are very simple rules and there are only three:
(1) Do not bring home any jamokes like your mom did.
"Jamokes"! I've never heard him say that before.
(2) Exercise due diligence in your advanced scouting of potential suitors.
(3) And rest assured I will embarrass you by giving your date a noogie if there is even a hint of him stepping out of line.
The "advance scouting" thing in #2 smacks of baseball... and what the heck does it mean, anyway? Isn't it basically the same thing as #1? I'm going to count #3 as a fulfillment of one of my predictions.
I’m sure other dads have other rules (some of which have already been turned into a sitcom) that are likely more intimidating than dishing out noogies to knuckleheads.
"Knuckleheads"! I've never heard him say that before. I like how he references the now-defunct John Ritter's now-defunct sitcom, too.
But I believe the embarrassment factor is more effective than, say, a kick in the hind end. With the way the guys wear their pants these days that would end up being a kick in the back of the knees, which is fine by me because I can’t lift my leg up any higher anyway.
Old guy/parent cliche #1 - Complaining about how kids wear their pants so low nowadays.
Because she goes to an all-girls school, Daughter of Blonde Accountant was responsible for securing a date to her first formal dance as a freshman. I’m sure that is a daunting task in and of itself for a 15-year-old, and the end result was that we got down to the week of the dance and her mother and I had very little information about the young man or the upcoming shindig.
The boredom factor here just jumped to 9.
With only 24 hours to go before the big dance, lack of solid information brought out the first threat — that I would give the guy a noogie as soon as he set foot in my house if we didn’t get some more details. Who is he? Where does he go to school? Where does he live? What are the names of his parents?
That noogie joke is SO FUNNY it almost makes me forget that he used it just a couple paragraphs ago!
Well, it all got straightened out eventually and we got our answers. The Blonde Accountant connected with the other mom and the logistics of the evening were formalized.
... Oh. That's... a relief? I guess? I was hoping the situation would provide for some more comical threats and whatnot.
Daughter of Blonde Accountant looked stunning in her formal evening wear as we waited for the young man and his mother to arrive at our house for the picture taking session prior to departing for the dance.
Nice, succinct writing there Borsch.
I know kids love having their pictures taken during milestones in life and I believe the 784 shots that I got of the flower exchange should sufficiently preserve the memory for all those interested.
That number is hilariously high! Over seven hundred pictures! Wahoooo!
I am happy to report that upon first impression, the lad appears to have had the benefit of good genes and stellar parenting. He was tall and handsome, polite, had a firm handshake, was a spiffy dresser and had the same haircut I had in 1975. What’s not to like? No noogie needed, which is good because I probably would have suffered some knuckle damage trying to get through that head of hair.
Thank goodness - I'm so glad everything turned out so well and, you know, unamusing.
The Blonde Accountant was tabbed to drive the early shift, which included a pregame soiree at another house with several other young couples. I was slated to drive the late shift, which as it turned out included an unplanned after-event at a pizza joint.
Show of hands - does anybody still use the phrase "pizza joint"?
Not wanting to intrude, I sat in the car and waited for the kids, listening to ’70s music on the radio and trying to recall my first formal high school dance. I believe my ensemble for the evening included a blue velvet bowtie. I don’t recall the girl’s dad giving me a noogie, so I must have presented well enough despite the tie.
I'm counting that as fulfilling my first prediction. I also like the picture of Borsch sitting forlornly in his car the whole time... wouldn't he just offer to pick them up later?
After we dropped the young man off at his home, Daughter of Blonde Accountant chimed in.
“Did you like him?” she asked.
“Yes, I did,” I answered, heartened that my approval was sought.
That's sad... like an abused dog wagging its tail at a kind word.
“Ya, he’s really nice. And not a jamoke,” she offered.
“No, he’s not a jamoke. Well done,” I said.
“Thanks. Advanced scouting.”
Two explanations for this: 1.) The above exchange is completely made-up; 2.) Daughter is mocking Borsch and he doesn't realize it. The second option is even worse, because it means he ripped off his own daughter earlier in the column.
Atta girl. Sometimes we wonder if our teenagers are listening to us. It’s a comfort to know that they are paying attention.
Even if it's only to secretly mock you, right?
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Humorless Humor Column
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Southpaws sighted at signing
The season hasn't even started yet - heck, as Morsch himself continually points out, pitchers and catchers haven't even reported yet - and already we've got back-to-back baseball stories!
By the way, an email I just sent tried to auto-correct "Morsch" to "Borsch." I think this might be what I call him from now on.
Although most people think of Phillies Hall of Fame pitcher Steve Carlton when they hear the name “Lefty,” our friends at the Hatboro-based Philadelphia Athletics Historical Society (www.philadelphiaathletics.org) have a couple of favorite “lefties” of their own — and they’re not named Carlton.
Shameless Promotion Alert? In an October 6, 2009 blog, regarding the Athletics Historical Society, Morsch states: I am honored to be a board member of that non-profit organization. Isn't promoting an organization you belong to worse than, say, mentioning that you like a restaurant?
On Saturday at the Days Inn in Horsham, two local lefties familiar to generations of baseball fans drew a big crowd of autograph seekers.
How many autograph events does Morsch attend in a year? And does he get paid for these things?
Note: I tried to include said video here, there's something wrong with Borsch's blog - couldn't even view it. My apologies.
Curt Simmons, who along with the late Robin Roberts were the mainstays of the 1950 “Whiz Kids” pitching staff, and Bobby Shantz, the 1952 American League Most Valuable Player as a pitcher for Connie Mack’s Philadelphia Athletics, greeted fans, told stories and signed autographs for a couple of hours prior to an A’s Society auction of memorabilia.
Ah, we all remember the superhumanly kind Mr. Roberts from Morsch's insulting tribute article.
Both southpaw hurlers, who enjoyed long careers in Major League Baseball, still hail from the area.
I hate "hurlers" - it sounds like a cricket term and really doesn't translate to baseball.
Shantz, originally from Pottstown, has been an Ambler resident since his playing days ended in the mid-1960s. Simmons, a native of Whitehall Township, is co-owner of Limekiln Golf Club in Ambler.
Hilarious! Wait, this is supposed to be funny, right? Because it's a humor column?
In the interest of full disclosure, I’m a volunteer commissioner for the A’s Society. It’s a wonderful non-profit group full of great baseball people that has kept alive the memory of the Philadelphia Athletics, who moved to Kansas City after the 1954 season.
From his August 15, 2009 article: In the interest of full disclosure, I am on the board of directors for the A’s Society. Sounds familiar...
I always enjoy the events featuring retired players and it’s amazing how many fans remember them long after their playing days.
And isn't it amazing how, all these years later, people still remember George Washington and "Black Jack" Pershing and Elvis? Long after their respective careers were over. It truly boggles the mind.
This was a terrible article with not even an attempt (and let's face it - Borsch rarely makes it further than an attempt) at a joke. I'd say he's not trying anymore, but that assumes that he was actually trying at some point.
Labels: Mike Morsch, Montgomery Newspapers, Outta Leftfield, Philadelphia Athletics Historical Society
Southpaws sighted at signing
The season hasn't even started yet - heck, as Morsch himself continually points out, pitchers and catchers haven't even reported yet - and already we've got back-to-back baseball stories!
By the way, an email I just sent tried to auto-correct "Morsch" to "Borsch." I think this might be what I call him from now on.
Although most people think of Phillies Hall of Fame pitcher Steve Carlton when they hear the name “Lefty,” our friends at the Hatboro-based Philadelphia Athletics Historical Society (www.philadelphiaathletics.org) have a couple of favorite “lefties” of their own — and they’re not named Carlton.
Shameless Promotion Alert? In an October 6, 2009 blog, regarding the Athletics Historical Society, Morsch states: I am honored to be a board member of that non-profit organization. Isn't promoting an organization you belong to worse than, say, mentioning that you like a restaurant?
On Saturday at the Days Inn in Horsham, two local lefties familiar to generations of baseball fans drew a big crowd of autograph seekers.
How many autograph events does Morsch attend in a year? And does he get paid for these things?
Note: I tried to include said video here, there's something wrong with Borsch's blog - couldn't even view it. My apologies.
Curt Simmons, who along with the late Robin Roberts were the mainstays of the 1950 “Whiz Kids” pitching staff, and Bobby Shantz, the 1952 American League Most Valuable Player as a pitcher for Connie Mack’s Philadelphia Athletics, greeted fans, told stories and signed autographs for a couple of hours prior to an A’s Society auction of memorabilia.
Ah, we all remember the superhumanly kind Mr. Roberts from Morsch's insulting tribute article.
Both southpaw hurlers, who enjoyed long careers in Major League Baseball, still hail from the area.
I hate "hurlers" - it sounds like a cricket term and really doesn't translate to baseball.
Shantz, originally from Pottstown, has been an Ambler resident since his playing days ended in the mid-1960s. Simmons, a native of Whitehall Township, is co-owner of Limekiln Golf Club in Ambler.
Hilarious! Wait, this is supposed to be funny, right? Because it's a humor column?
In the interest of full disclosure, I’m a volunteer commissioner for the A’s Society. It’s a wonderful non-profit group full of great baseball people that has kept alive the memory of the Philadelphia Athletics, who moved to Kansas City after the 1954 season.
From his August 15, 2009 article: In the interest of full disclosure, I am on the board of directors for the A’s Society. Sounds familiar...
I always enjoy the events featuring retired players and it’s amazing how many fans remember them long after their playing days.
And isn't it amazing how, all these years later, people still remember George Washington and "Black Jack" Pershing and Elvis? Long after their respective careers were over. It truly boggles the mind.
This was a terrible article with not even an attempt (and let's face it - Borsch rarely makes it further than an attempt) at a joke. I'd say he's not trying anymore, but that assumes that he was actually trying at some point.
Labels: Mike Morsch, Montgomery Newspapers, Outta Leftfield, Philadelphia Athletics Historical Society
Monday, December 6, 2010
Seeing a Concert? What?
Monday, December 6, 2010
It's May in December
Dan May
Couldn't he have gone one tiny step further and entitled the post "It's May in Dancember"? That would have been even more funny.
doesn’t mind working on his birthday. So there he was Saturday night at the sold-out PSALM Salon on his 52nd birthday doing what he loves best — singing and performing.
Ah, it's been at least a month since Morsch blogged about attending a local concert! Today is the gift that keeps on giving. [Editor's note: It's been even longer! He hasn't seen one since October 28.]
The non-profit Philadelphia Society for Art, Literature and Music is the brainchild of Jamey Reilly, PSALM chairman. Essentially, he and wife Suyun have turned their living room into a 60-seat entertainment venue for music, dance, comedy, performance art and literary readings, reminiscent of the old-world salons of Europe. (www.psalmsalon.com)
Shamless Promotion Alert? Anyone? No? Okay then.
The Blonde Accountant and I have been there a few times — to see our favorite Philly singer-songwriter Dan May — and it’s truly a unique experience. In fact, if it was my house, I’d take the concept a step further. I’d get a big recliner and call it “Mike’s Chair” in which I could sit and watch all the wonderful performers who grace the stage.
So in this amazing fantasy, Morsch hosts Dan May concerts in his home and sits in his own chair. He truly has a vivid imagination.
We have been Dan Fans (www.myspace.com/danmaycd) for a while now.
Shameless Promotion Alert, surely! No? Alright.
And we’re PSALM Salon fans as well. For us to be able to see talented artists in a comfortable and intimate setting makes for an ideal date night, although I’d still opt for the recliner option if Jamey offered it, and I would encourage him to do so, but only for me, of course.
Explain to me again how this man has found not one but TWO women who will say "I do." If you have time, you can explain how he can jam so many commas into a single sentence.
There was even a birthday cake for Dan, which he shared with all those in attendance during the intermission and after the show. That’s another unique aspect of the PSALM — getting to spend time with the artists one-on-one.
Since we've reached the last paragraph of this "post," I think it's fair to assume that he isn't going to review the show or relate an entertaining tale. No, he's just advertising for concerts that this guy holds in his living room.
I would encourage you to explore Dan’s music and the PSALM Salon. It’s certainly a place where you can have your cake . . . and eat it, too.
Unless it doesn't happen to be Dan May's birthday. Then you don't get any cake.
Labels: Dan May, Mike Morsch, Montomgery Newspapers, Outta Leftfield, PSALM Salon
It's May in December
Dan May
Couldn't he have gone one tiny step further and entitled the post "It's May in Dancember"? That would have been even more funny.
doesn’t mind working on his birthday. So there he was Saturday night at the sold-out PSALM Salon on his 52nd birthday doing what he loves best — singing and performing.
Ah, it's been at least a month since Morsch blogged about attending a local concert! Today is the gift that keeps on giving. [Editor's note: It's been even longer! He hasn't seen one since October 28.]
The non-profit Philadelphia Society for Art, Literature and Music is the brainchild of Jamey Reilly, PSALM chairman. Essentially, he and wife Suyun have turned their living room into a 60-seat entertainment venue for music, dance, comedy, performance art and literary readings, reminiscent of the old-world salons of Europe. (www.psalmsalon.com)
Shamless Promotion Alert? Anyone? No? Okay then.
The Blonde Accountant and I have been there a few times — to see our favorite Philly singer-songwriter Dan May — and it’s truly a unique experience. In fact, if it was my house, I’d take the concept a step further. I’d get a big recliner and call it “Mike’s Chair” in which I could sit and watch all the wonderful performers who grace the stage.
So in this amazing fantasy, Morsch hosts Dan May concerts in his home and sits in his own chair. He truly has a vivid imagination.
We have been Dan Fans (www.myspace.com/danmaycd) for a while now.
Shameless Promotion Alert, surely! No? Alright.
And we’re PSALM Salon fans as well. For us to be able to see talented artists in a comfortable and intimate setting makes for an ideal date night, although I’d still opt for the recliner option if Jamey offered it, and I would encourage him to do so, but only for me, of course.
Explain to me again how this man has found not one but TWO women who will say "I do." If you have time, you can explain how he can jam so many commas into a single sentence.
There was even a birthday cake for Dan, which he shared with all those in attendance during the intermission and after the show. That’s another unique aspect of the PSALM — getting to spend time with the artists one-on-one.
Since we've reached the last paragraph of this "post," I think it's fair to assume that he isn't going to review the show or relate an entertaining tale. No, he's just advertising for concerts that this guy holds in his living room.
I would encourage you to explore Dan’s music and the PSALM Salon. It’s certainly a place where you can have your cake . . . and eat it, too.
Unless it doesn't happen to be Dan May's birthday. Then you don't get any cake.
Labels: Dan May, Mike Morsch, Montomgery Newspapers, Outta Leftfield, PSALM Salon
Werthless
Monday, December 6, 2010
Happy-happy, Roy-Roy
A column about Roy Halladay? I would protest that it isn't even baseball season, but hey. It's better than yet another entry in the "things men can't do" canon.
I spent the better part of last weekend thinking that I did something to hork off Phillies pitcher Roy Oswalt. Take a look at the photo accompanying this blog item. Does Oswalt look happy to see me? It’s like I told him his dog just died or something.
Roy OSWALT. My mistake. This isn't the first time he's used "hork off," but I wish it was the last.
The hurler was among the many stars that appeared at a big ballcard
"Ballcard"? This is even more ridiculous than "ballglove."
show at Valley Forge Convention Center over the weekend. Among the Phillies who attended were Shane Victorino and Ryan Madsen, along with former Phils’ greats Mike Schmidt, Steve Carlton and Pete Rose.
Were they all kind and gracious? I'll bet they even went so far as to take pictures with fans.
Recently crowned National League Cy Young Award winner Roy Halladay and Cole Hamels were also scheduled to attend in what was billed as an “H2O” event, a nickname given to the Halladay-Hamels-Oswalt starting staff of the Phillies.
Unfortunately, Halladay postponed (and hopefully will be rescheduled in a few weeks) and Hamels canceled his personal appearance but was signing mail-order autographs.
Cole Hamels - not a gracious man.
The Blonde Accountant had purchased me an Oswalt autograph ticket for my birthday, so I was among the throngs of autograph seekers and baseball card treasure hunters on Saturday. (The find of the day was a 1967 card of Pirates Hall of Famer Willie Stargell — my favorite player as a kid — for $5.)
So far our only bit of comedy has been a reference to a dead dog. This isn't exactly the most dynamic entry in the history of "Outta Leftfield."
My time with Oswalt was brief. The whole thing lasted maybe 30 seconds. The only thing I said had to do with a request as to where he would sign my item. I then lumbered around the table on arthritic knees and a balky back to pose for the picture that you see.
He lumbered around on his balky back? I'd like to see how he did that. Roy Oswalt - perhaps only a semi-gracious man.
When I looked at the picture afterwards, I thought, “Hey, I took a shower.” Roy Oswalt doesn’t even know who I am. So why does he have the Sad Sack mug?
Look at the bizarre "smile" on the face of Morsch. I'd be terrified to pose with him too.
Then the news broke Sunday evening that Oswalt’s teammate Jayson Werth had signed a seven-year deal with the Nationals for $126 million. No doubt Oswalt prefers Werth playing behind him in right field and providing run support when Oswalt is on the hill.
Pitchers always appreciate a guy who bats a heafty .186 with runners in scoring position! Read that last sentence again. "Oswalt prefers Werth... when Oswalt is on the hill." Huh? Nice editing, there, skipper. And to whom does he prefer Werth?
So I’m guessing of all the things that could make Roy Oswalt grimace, having his picture taken with me likely doesn’t make the list.
Guess again.
But losing a middle-of-the-lineup teammate to a division rival for a mountain of coin could sour one’s disposition.
That, or maybe his lunch just wasn’t sitting right.
So what was the point of this post? "Oswalt looks unhappy in a picture, maybe because of Jayson Werth. Or maybe he had indigestion." And I'm sure the Phillies will be much more terrified of Werth (27 HR, 85 RBI) than they were of recently departed slugger Adam Dunn (38 HR, 103 RBI).
Finally, look at the picture again. Does anyone else see a bit of a smile at the left corner of Oswalt's mouth? Kind of smug, surely, but not the furious scowl Morsch seems to imagine.
Labels: Mike Morsch, Montgomery Newspapers, Outta Leftfield, Phillies
"Phillies," but not Werth or Oswalt, huh? The worst thing about this column is that someone named "JAJinPA" made the following comment:
LOL! Thanks for the smile today.
Oh JAJinPA... what a life you must lead.
Happy-happy, Roy-Roy
A column about Roy Halladay? I would protest that it isn't even baseball season, but hey. It's better than yet another entry in the "things men can't do" canon.
I spent the better part of last weekend thinking that I did something to hork off Phillies pitcher Roy Oswalt. Take a look at the photo accompanying this blog item. Does Oswalt look happy to see me? It’s like I told him his dog just died or something.
Roy OSWALT. My mistake. This isn't the first time he's used "hork off," but I wish it was the last.
The hurler was among the many stars that appeared at a big ballcard
"Ballcard"? This is even more ridiculous than "ballglove."
show at Valley Forge Convention Center over the weekend. Among the Phillies who attended were Shane Victorino and Ryan Madsen, along with former Phils’ greats Mike Schmidt, Steve Carlton and Pete Rose.
Were they all kind and gracious? I'll bet they even went so far as to take pictures with fans.
Recently crowned National League Cy Young Award winner Roy Halladay and Cole Hamels were also scheduled to attend in what was billed as an “H2O” event, a nickname given to the Halladay-Hamels-Oswalt starting staff of the Phillies.
Unfortunately, Halladay postponed (and hopefully will be rescheduled in a few weeks) and Hamels canceled his personal appearance but was signing mail-order autographs.
Cole Hamels - not a gracious man.
The Blonde Accountant had purchased me an Oswalt autograph ticket for my birthday, so I was among the throngs of autograph seekers and baseball card treasure hunters on Saturday. (The find of the day was a 1967 card of Pirates Hall of Famer Willie Stargell — my favorite player as a kid — for $5.)
So far our only bit of comedy has been a reference to a dead dog. This isn't exactly the most dynamic entry in the history of "Outta Leftfield."
My time with Oswalt was brief. The whole thing lasted maybe 30 seconds. The only thing I said had to do with a request as to where he would sign my item. I then lumbered around the table on arthritic knees and a balky back to pose for the picture that you see.
He lumbered around on his balky back? I'd like to see how he did that. Roy Oswalt - perhaps only a semi-gracious man.
When I looked at the picture afterwards, I thought, “Hey, I took a shower.” Roy Oswalt doesn’t even know who I am. So why does he have the Sad Sack mug?
Look at the bizarre "smile" on the face of Morsch. I'd be terrified to pose with him too.
Then the news broke Sunday evening that Oswalt’s teammate Jayson Werth had signed a seven-year deal with the Nationals for $126 million. No doubt Oswalt prefers Werth playing behind him in right field and providing run support when Oswalt is on the hill.
Pitchers always appreciate a guy who bats a heafty .186 with runners in scoring position! Read that last sentence again. "Oswalt prefers Werth... when Oswalt is on the hill." Huh? Nice editing, there, skipper. And to whom does he prefer Werth?
So I’m guessing of all the things that could make Roy Oswalt grimace, having his picture taken with me likely doesn’t make the list.
Guess again.
But losing a middle-of-the-lineup teammate to a division rival for a mountain of coin could sour one’s disposition.
That, or maybe his lunch just wasn’t sitting right.
So what was the point of this post? "Oswalt looks unhappy in a picture, maybe because of Jayson Werth. Or maybe he had indigestion." And I'm sure the Phillies will be much more terrified of Werth (27 HR, 85 RBI) than they were of recently departed slugger Adam Dunn (38 HR, 103 RBI).
Finally, look at the picture again. Does anyone else see a bit of a smile at the left corner of Oswalt's mouth? Kind of smug, surely, but not the furious scowl Morsch seems to imagine.
Labels: Mike Morsch, Montgomery Newspapers, Outta Leftfield, Phillies
"Phillies," but not Werth or Oswalt, huh? The worst thing about this column is that someone named "JAJinPA" made the following comment:
LOL! Thanks for the smile today.
Oh JAJinPA... what a life you must lead.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Disgracing James MacArthur
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
End of the original 'Book 'em' era
Morsch disgraces the memory of James MacArthur. He has truly sunk to a new low.
I was saddened to learn of the recent death of James MacArthur, who played Detective Danny “Danno” Williams, the right-hand man of Jack Lord’s character Steve McGarrett on the television show “Hawaii Five-0.”
He actually mentioned (and tagged!) Hawaii Five-0 in another post. The only problem is that it's tagged as "Hawaii 5-0," so there's no way to connect the two. Another savvy move by our favorite blogger.
The original television series, which ran from 1968 through 1980, was one of my favorites as a kid and the attraction lasted into my college years. No matter what was going on with my schedule of toga parties, I always tried to find time to catch the show. At the very least, I tried to get in on the last few minutes of the episode, just to hear McGarrett say to Williams, “Book ’em Danno, murder one.”
McGarrett really didn't say it that often. Per Morsch's previous post on this subject: I spent many a night ditching the books in college... primarily just so I could hear Steve McGarrett say “Book ’em, Dano!” at the end of each episode. Ignore the "Dano" and focus on how this guy's terrible style varies so little from post to post.
Although I never got to meet MacArthur, I did get the opportunity to meet another “Hawaii Five-0" regular before the end of the original show’s run.
Really? Was he friendly and gracious? Did he take the time to greet fans after the event?
In 1979, our college baseball team’s spring trip was to Hawaii. (It was a good time to be a baseball player in Iowa in 1979.)
What was a good time? 1979? How nonsensical is this statement?
We were there for 10 days and were scheduled to play 10 games against the University of Hawaii.
Many of those games were played during the day, which left us the evenings to explore as much of Hawaii as we could with our limited free time.
My folks went along on the trip, and one evening we attended a nightclub act by Al Harrington, who played Detective Ben Kokua, another cop in McGarrett’s crew, for several years on the show. (On rare occasions, McGarrett would ask Ben to “Book ’em.”)
There's a website that analyzes the Five-0 series episode by episode. There are maybe only two or three instances of Steve saying "Book 'em" each season. I love how Morsch is trying to sound like an authority here. Stick with the Stooges, pal.
In addition to his television gig, Harrington was a singer and dancer in Waikiki, and along with Don Ho, helped define Hawaii’s entertainment industry in the 1970s and 1980s.
Because the history of the Hawaiian entertainment industry is funny! ... Right?
I got to meet Harrington after his show and asked him to sign my program, which he did. He signed it, “Book ’em Mike.” Given that I was such a big fan of the show, I got a kick out of that.
What a kind, generous, gracious man that Al Harrington is, taking the time to sign that autograph.
Unfortunately, I haven’t been back to Hawaii since.
All the main actors on the original “Hawaii Five-0” are gone now. I’ve watched the new version of the show Monday nights on CBS and it’s OK. Hawaii is still Hawaii, so the scenery is still fabulous. And the McGarrett character still says “Book ’em Danno” to the Williams character.
What is this post about? The death of James MacArthur? Al Harrington? Morsch's trip to Hawaii? "Hawaii Five-0"?
As with a lot of things, in this instance though, the original still outshines the remake.
"I was sad that MacArthur died. I never met him, but I met someone on the same show as him while I was in Hawaii once. I liked that show. The new version of the show is okay, but not as good as the original."
I'd like to linger on this last sentence for a moment. It would make sense if it read "As with a lot of things, the original still outshines the remake." But the inclusion of "in this instance though" destroys it. It's a complete contradiction. It's like saying, "Quite often, but fairly rarely."
Labels: Hawaii Five-0, Mike Morsch, Montgomery Newspapers, Outta Leftfield
End of the original 'Book 'em' era
Morsch disgraces the memory of James MacArthur. He has truly sunk to a new low.
I was saddened to learn of the recent death of James MacArthur, who played Detective Danny “Danno” Williams, the right-hand man of Jack Lord’s character Steve McGarrett on the television show “Hawaii Five-0.”
He actually mentioned (and tagged!) Hawaii Five-0 in another post. The only problem is that it's tagged as "Hawaii 5-0," so there's no way to connect the two. Another savvy move by our favorite blogger.
The original television series, which ran from 1968 through 1980, was one of my favorites as a kid and the attraction lasted into my college years. No matter what was going on with my schedule of toga parties, I always tried to find time to catch the show. At the very least, I tried to get in on the last few minutes of the episode, just to hear McGarrett say to Williams, “Book ’em Danno, murder one.”
McGarrett really didn't say it that often. Per Morsch's previous post on this subject: I spent many a night ditching the books in college... primarily just so I could hear Steve McGarrett say “Book ’em, Dano!” at the end of each episode. Ignore the "Dano" and focus on how this guy's terrible style varies so little from post to post.
Although I never got to meet MacArthur, I did get the opportunity to meet another “Hawaii Five-0" regular before the end of the original show’s run.
Really? Was he friendly and gracious? Did he take the time to greet fans after the event?
In 1979, our college baseball team’s spring trip was to Hawaii. (It was a good time to be a baseball player in Iowa in 1979.)
What was a good time? 1979? How nonsensical is this statement?
We were there for 10 days and were scheduled to play 10 games against the University of Hawaii.
Many of those games were played during the day, which left us the evenings to explore as much of Hawaii as we could with our limited free time.
My folks went along on the trip, and one evening we attended a nightclub act by Al Harrington, who played Detective Ben Kokua, another cop in McGarrett’s crew, for several years on the show. (On rare occasions, McGarrett would ask Ben to “Book ’em.”)
There's a website that analyzes the Five-0 series episode by episode. There are maybe only two or three instances of Steve saying "Book 'em" each season. I love how Morsch is trying to sound like an authority here. Stick with the Stooges, pal.
In addition to his television gig, Harrington was a singer and dancer in Waikiki, and along with Don Ho, helped define Hawaii’s entertainment industry in the 1970s and 1980s.
Because the history of the Hawaiian entertainment industry is funny! ... Right?
I got to meet Harrington after his show and asked him to sign my program, which he did. He signed it, “Book ’em Mike.” Given that I was such a big fan of the show, I got a kick out of that.
What a kind, generous, gracious man that Al Harrington is, taking the time to sign that autograph.
Unfortunately, I haven’t been back to Hawaii since.
All the main actors on the original “Hawaii Five-0” are gone now. I’ve watched the new version of the show Monday nights on CBS and it’s OK. Hawaii is still Hawaii, so the scenery is still fabulous. And the McGarrett character still says “Book ’em Danno” to the Williams character.
What is this post about? The death of James MacArthur? Al Harrington? Morsch's trip to Hawaii? "Hawaii Five-0"?
As with a lot of things, in this instance though, the original still outshines the remake.
"I was sad that MacArthur died. I never met him, but I met someone on the same show as him while I was in Hawaii once. I liked that show. The new version of the show is okay, but not as good as the original."
I'd like to linger on this last sentence for a moment. It would make sense if it read "As with a lot of things, the original still outshines the remake." But the inclusion of "in this instance though" destroys it. It's a complete contradiction. It's like saying, "Quite often, but fairly rarely."
Labels: Hawaii Five-0, Mike Morsch, Montgomery Newspapers, Outta Leftfield
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