Calendar Chicanery

 

Well, well, well ... let's start off the New Year with a brand spankin' new episode from Assault Of The 2-Headed Spacemules!

 

Host Douglas Arthur and I discuss the month of January as provided by my recently acquired 2024 Holiday-A-Day calendar. Enjoy!

 

Since the dawn of time (well ... since the very first episode of Aot2HSMs) I've been contributing to Douglas' podcast.  Why?  Sometimes even I have to ask myself that question ...

 

 

 

.......... Ruprecht  ( STOP what you're doing and give it a listen already )

 

A Very Special Episode of Assault Of The 2-Headed Space Mules

The G.O.O.C.H. Squad (Gang Of Occasional Co-Hosts) is back on Attack Of The 2-Headed Space Mules, Douglas Arthur's podcast of the bizarre and strange.

In this iteration, Brian Curtis, Jeff Hickmott, Jim Fitzsimons, Douglas and I perpetrate game show contestants (and game show hosts!) and attempt to guess cover songs for points and fabulous prizes. Comedy and hijinks ensue.

Episode 56:
The First Ever
Assault of the 2-Headed Space Mules
Colossal Cover Song Quiz!

 
Please, enjoy.

.......... Ruprecht ( STOP )

Bowie Podcast, Part 2

That Douglas Arthur ... he's such a card.

When we left Douglas and his Assault Of The 2-Headed Space Mules podcast, he'd cut me off in mid-sentence ... literally:

"... and we're going to stick a pin in it right there, right at that critical moment where we're just about to find out what Michael's favorite album from David Bowie is. What will it be, what will he choose?"

So, for those of you champing at the bit left on that frustrating cliffhanger of a ledge from Part 1 of the 'cast, here you go ...

.......... Ruprecht ( STOP ) 

It's Been A Year Already ...

It's been over a month since I've posted anything.


In fact, 2015 (last year!) was the latest anything got tossed out there for public consumption. I fleetingly wondered if the blog would continue. (News Flash: There was never any doubt it wouldn't go on and on ... much to the chagrin of many of you out there. Am I right?)

And oh ... is there lots to talk about entering into 2016.

Not the least of which is the abundance of notable deaths to start off the New Year. Of those passings who have made me sit up straight:

• Celine Dion lost her husband Rene Angelil to cancer. (And, right behind him and also to cancer, Dion's brother Daniel.)
• British actor Alan Rickman. The Harry Potter films. Galaxy Quest. Die Hard.
• Richard Libertini. (Law & Order, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Animaniacs and one of my favorites, Awakenings with Robert Dinero and Robin Williams)
• Dan Haggerty of the 70s television show Grizzly Adams.
• David Margulies (no relation to actress Julianna Margulies) of Ghostbusters and The Sopranos fame.
• And just yesterday? The Eagles' co-founder Glenn Frey.

 
And, of course, the one that really hit home for me: David Bowie last Sunday.

When I caught word of Bowie's passing early Monday morning, I was floored. It hit me hard. I was instantly awake and alert when I got the news and immediately jumped out of bed and accessed all the news I could.

I read the articles, listened to the news reports. I devoured the tributes that came flooding in. Bowie's catalog was on continuously throughout the day as I ran my own personal marathon of his output. I was in a funk, overcome by melancholia. As I watched and listened to his 2002 "Live By Request" performance from New York and "Changes" came on, tears gushed down my face uncontrollably. And then again when he began singing "Station To Station." I couldn't help myself.

I thought about posting something but my friend Douglas Arthur beat me to the punch. He contacted a few on-line acquaintances:

"Any of you interested in discussing Bowie for a show?"

Of course he was talking about recording another Assault Of The Two-Headed Space Mules podcast. 

Yeah ... I was in. 

So, in lieu of continuing to write something gushy, what say you just listen instead?

Recorded this past Saturday evening, Assault Of The Two-Headed Space Mules host Douglas Arthur, partners in crime Jim Fitzsimons, Brian Curtis and I talk David Bowie ...

 

Please enjoy. 

.......... Ruprecht ( STOP )

We Need Three Strikes In Life

When I was a kid, my father drug me to baseball tryouts.

Yes ... he drug me. Kicking and screaming.

Hokay ... it might not have been quite that dramatic. But, as a kid and at the time and searching my memory, I was literally drug to tryouts. Drug kicking and screaming. (You know what I mean.)

I do remember there were tears. Genuine tears. Tears shed because I did not, did not, DID NOT want to go ... did not want to be there ... did not want to participate ... did not want to be put in a position where I didn't know what I was doing, did not know if I was going to succeed, did not want the humiliation of screwing up and being laughed at.

"Tough shit, son. Get out there and do your best," my father told me. "Just do the best you can." (He didn't say "tough shit" ... but he wanted to. I know he did ...)

I pleaded with him, begging him not to subject me to such mortifying abasement. The tears started anew.

"Don't make me mad. Get out there," he responded.

I don't remember the tryout itself. I'm pretty certain I was numb throughout the entire process. I remember catching a fly ball ... and being rather amazed I had done so. Grounders whizzed past me to the left and to the right and straight through my legs. I don't recall ever making contact with the ball solidly when I was up to bat, but I think I might have tipped it once. Barely.

I walked off the field when the tryouts were over and was directed to one of several groups of boys. Right then and there, post tryouts, a dozen or so coaches were picking teams out of the blue. All participants who had tried out on the field were being selected one by one and put on a team.

I remember I was one of the last to be selected. I can't rightly say, but I may have been one of the last ones picked.

I survived tryouts. Then, I realized much to my chagrin, I would have to endure an entire little league season. I didn't know if I had it in me to do so.

But I did have it in me. And, again, my father pushed me through my fear.

But it wasn't without consequence. I was one of the worst kids in the league. And I knew it, too. I dreaded going to practice that year, I hated being in the games. Mostly I was polishing the bench with my backside that initial season, though I was put in the game as required.

But I did have one thing going for me: Power. So as I learned to make contact with the ball, I did find - on that rare occasion - the ball flew off my bat.

And then came the turning point in my baseball "career" when I decided baseball wasn't so bad after all.

I was up to bat one inning late in the game. I remember I had two strikes on me and I just knew the next pitch was going to come down the middle and zip right past me. I just knew it. So, with adrenaline pumping wildly inside me, the pitcher wound up and flung the ball.  I closed my eyes tightly and let my bat fly.
 
In the movies when "that big moment" strikes and the sound goes mute and everything is in slow motion? That's what I remember happening. I opened my eyes and dejectedly put my bat on my shoulder, ready to take the walk of shame back to the dugout. But then the sound returned. I heard yelling and screaming and cheering. And I felt a hard back slap by a team mate who was out of the on-deck circle and suddenly right next to me with a big shit-eating grin on his face. I had no clue what everyone was going on about. 

Next, the home plate umpire told me "Go on ... round the bases, son."

I'd hit a homerun - my first - and I didn't even know it. I hadn't seen it. I had no clue what had just happened.

I trotted out to first base stunned and unbelieving but - as I made my way to second - a grin began to appear on my face. It was one of the few times during my rookie outing I enjoyed baseball.

And my love affair with the game continues to this day. (Regardless of the fact baseball is a whole different ballgame today than it was of yesteryear.)

Had my father not put his foot down, had he not forced me to get out there and try, I don't know if I would love the game as much as I do. Screw that enablement crap, the milquetoast attitude some foist on kids.

The fact of the matter is you don't learn from your successes, you learn from your failures and from your mistakes.

You do things yourself in order to fully appreciate them and understand them and relate to them. If I wasn't pushed by my father, I still might like baseball. But I don't think I would be the fan and student of the game I am today.

And that's why this post I saw - courtesy of my buddy Douglas Arthur - resonated so strongly with me.

.......... Ruprecht ( STOP enabling everyone ... kids and adults alike )

Pop Cap For Greeting

I don't know this guy ... I've never met this guy before ... you've got to admit this is a strange greeting ... and I really don't know what prompted it:


Hokay ... I "know" this guy. He's Rick Arthur, teacher, life student, comic aficionado and (I have it on authority) all-around good guy. It so happens he's the brother of one Douglas Arthur of Assault Of The Two-Headed Space Mules and Dougside comics and singular member of Flaming Schwarzkopf Experience.

I've been champing at the bit to post this since Rick created it in January of this year. By then, it was too late to put it out for general public consumption, but here it is now ... in all its glory.

When I first viewed it, I was doubled over in fits of laughter with tears running down my eyes. I thought it hilarious. And I still do.

So ... please, enjoy.

....... Ruprecht ( STOP )

Shirked Unbelieva-Duties

It's come to our attention there might be folks out there not familiar with The Unbelievables. 

I know ... difficult to comprehend. But sometimes the truth is just that: The Truth.

After minimal infighting (hokay ... there was a lot of infighting, actually) Jeff, Clark and I drew straws and Clark came up with the short one ...

... which, in retrospect, wasn't necessarily a bad thing because he did an excellent job coming up with a pretty succinct history of The Unbelievables.


So go access that link and get schooled. 

Because being bad (and uninformed) is just no good.

....... Ruprecht ( STOP )

Contextual Quotations

And in today's edition of "Friends' Quotations Taken Out Of Context" we have ...

"No canned air! I tried blowing hard but to no avail..."

.......... Ruprecht ( STOP )

Thank you, Douglas Arthur ...

You Need This Book

So ... there's this guy: Douglas Arthur.

He likes giving things away. 

Case in point? His new book Antisocial Lawnmower.

Yeah ... strange name for a book. (But, if you think about it, aren't all lawnmowers antisocial? Exactly.)

Anywho ... follow the links above and do what the instructions say and you can be the proud owner of almost 400 pages of his hard-published efforts.

Because there is such a thing as a free lunch. And antisocial lawnmowers ...

.......... Ruprecht ( STOP )

The Truth About Devo, Part 2

Douglas Arthur It's the continuing Assault Of The Two-Headed Space Mules via Douglas Arthur. More talk between us about one of our favorite bands, Devo.

Part 2 of 2 ...

...................... Ruprecht ( STOP )

The Truth About Devo, Part 1

Douglas Arthur of Assault Of The Two-Headed Space Mules and I talk Devo. Lots of it.

Part 1 of 2 ...

...................... Ruprecht ( STOP )