Guest Post: Tara Shrodes

Operation Occupy Rupe's Blog

I bumped into Tara on-line on the American Idol site years ago along with a group of like-minded individuals where we waxed and waned about the show. For the last year and a half we've been co-writing a couple columns, CommercialClack and MusiClack on CliqueClack. Among other accolades, Tara was the recipient of a Michigan Emmy in 1991 for Best Talent in a Non-News category for her work on Club Connect, a national PBS show.

Ladies and Gentlemen?

May I present Tara Shrodes ...

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

I'm late to this game, mostly because of Real Life constantly creeping in and keeping me from sitting down to actually write about my thoughts and every day experiences, rather that just reacting to them willy nilly.

As I've been thinking about my contribution to my friend Michael's blog, I went over and over the many things I have rolling around my head each day that I could write about. A Mother with Alzheimer's disease? My part time job, where women talk to me everyday about the troubles and tribulations in their lives? The death of my cat, whom I considered my child? How much I hate it when I pull out of a parking space and no one is around, yet I almost crash into someone speeding behind me at the last moment? (Where do they come from anyway?) My fascination with Awards shows? My feelings about losing my radio job and the horrifying economy?

Yech. Why would you care about those things?

You read blogs and give up a valuable few minutes of your day to escape from your own stuff. We all have stuff.

So I'm not really going to go into anything in my personal life. But as you can tell from my mood, I need a good rant. And I'm hoping that sometimes, it's as cathartic to read one as it is to write one. 'Cause then, we're in a win/win situation. I've always liked those. Let's get started!

Recently, I got into a series of discussions with a friend of mine who happens to be of the male persuasion. We got to talking about the many differences between men and women; what each worries (or doesn't) about, how we communicate and deal with the complexities of being polar opposites.

Inevitably, we strayed to the topic of the manner in which men and women are portrayed in the media. Okay. I might have pushed it. After all it's one of my hotbed issues, and here's why ...

Thin! Way too thin! What's up with that? The average woman is a size fourteen, yet from the moment we become cognizant as people, women are constantly bombarded with the media telling us we're "not right." We're told we must look like this model or that one. We need bigger boobs. We need flat stomachs. We need big hair. We need perfect nails and faces free of (God forbid) a wrinkle or laugh line. We need liposuction or plastic surgery. We must entice and enthrall!

Our eyelashes are too short! Our thighs are too big. Our asses are massive.

And if you age?? Well, shame on you.

It's a kazillion dollar industry. Designed to make us women buy into feeling less and spending more.

And somehow? They have us believing.

That we should be a size zero. What??? A size zero weighs about ninety-seven pounds. Is that a good thing to encourage women to do? Is that healthy or smart? What is this obsession the media has about wanting women to be as small as possible and young forever? When I was teaching, I actually had my little girl students come up to me and tell me that weren't finishing their lunches because they were "fat." Grr! And where do you think they got this idea? Yep. From television and film and ads and billboards and peer pressure. It's become an expected and natural "norm."

Besides a very, very few actresses ... Hollywood and the entertainment industry in general shuns women over the age of thirty-five. And you hardly ever see a "fat" actress.Yet? Male actors with paunches and wrinkles and bald pates are everywhere. There's just not the same kind of pressure on men in society to look perfect. When a man gets old, he's "distinguished and handsome." When a guy is young, he's a stud and has his pick. (Of only beautiful and skinny girls, please.)

So after I said pretty much the above to my guy buddy, he pointed out that it's actually in part our fault as women that this is happening to us. His theory is that we should tell everyone we're ten years older than we are (for more compliments) and just stop paying attention to the lot of it. Walk away. Snip snap. Get over it. Easy peasy.

Sigh. So typical. But a part of me wondered ... wouldn't it be nice? It's impossible, considering the bombardment. But maybe, in this case a woman should be more like a man.

Maybe he's right.

But I'll never admit it.

And now? I'm going to eat an eighty calorie yogurt. Even though I want a package of cookies.

Guest Post: Brittany Frederick

Operation Occupy Rupe's Blog

Brittany Frederick is an entertainment and sports journalist as well as a fellow colleague. As you can see from her many gigs (below), she is way too busy, follows Dan Le Batard for a reason I have yet to determine and boasts an unhealthy interest in Adam Levine of Maroon 5. You can find her work not only at CliqueClack and CliqueClack Flicks but also Digital Airwaves | Starpulse | Examiner | Fanbolt | Bleacher Report | eSports and Yahoo!

Ladies and Gentlemen?

May I present Brittany Frederick ...

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

As a child, with my head stuck in the pages of comic books, I had a different taste in superheroes. My favorite was Christopher Chance, aka Human Target. He didn’t have any superpowers or even a costume, but he was really good at what he did. I admired that because it felt real to me. I wasn’t going to get a Batmobile or learn to fly, but it wasn’t a stretch to think that I could put in a lot of hard work (and some bruises) and save the day.

Obviously, I never became a superhero (although I did get to meet Christopher Chance himself when FOX launched a Human Target TV series starring Mark Valley). But I’ve realized something about myself recently: I’ve become a hero in my own way.

Sure, being an entertainment journalist is a far cry from stepping in front of a bullet; I know that first-hand, having been steps away from joining the Los Angeles Police Department a few years ago. Yet over the course of the last eleven years, I’ve been privileged to not only meet but learn from an amazing group of people, and then to turn around and reach out a helping hand to others.

I look at the people who’ve become part of my life and I can’t believe that I’m so lucky. It’s one thing to discover a new favorite TV series (that was Brotherhood), but another to count the man who created and wrote it (Blake Masters) as one of my friends, and have him invite me to call him up if I ever wanted to talk about the show. He’s not the only writer I’ve gotten a chance to learn from. Law & Order: UK scribes Emilia di Girolamo and Terry Cafolla are pals of mine who not only discussed the episodes with me as they aired, but sent me a copy of one of their scripts so I could study it. Aaron Sorkin wrote me a very sweet note that’s framed in my office. And Human Target creator Jon Steinberg emailed me personally to tell me how much he enjoyed my writing about his show.

One of my dearest friends is the truly talented actor Coby Bell of Burn Notice and The Game, who’s supported me just as much as I’ve been a fan of his. Coby and many other actors have given me a whole new appreciation for the craft. Law & Order: UK star Ben Daniels has given me plot ideas for my novels. Nikita star Shane West is someone I have a deep respect for, as he’s made me a better writer through our conversations about his work. Last year, I had coffee with my childhood favorite actor, Linden Ashby, and we email each other often. In October, I spent an hour picking the brain of my all-time favorite actor, Robert Patrick, because he invited me to. And I count as friends two more people I’d put on my all-time list: Suits stars Gabriel Macht and Patrick J. Adams. Not only has it been eye-opening to watch them work, but both of them were happy to spend time with me and share their views. I’ll never forget the most recent conversation I had with Gabriel, where he was actually asking me about my writing. It was humbling, awesome, and lo and behold, talking it out with him ended up giving me more ideas. I still think I wouldn’t be a very good actor myself, but I’m a student of the craft thanks to all of the knowledge I’ve had the chance to glean.

When I decided last year to take up music, it was because I was inspired by the best – and I can say the people who inspired me are the same people who have helped me. Grammy Award-winning musician Adam Levine is my hero, but he’s also become my mentor, because I’ve gotten to know him. There were so many talented performers that I met on The Voice, and I can reach out to any one of them when I need help. Tim Mahoney and Casey Desmond gave me advice and encouragement when I auditioned for the show’s second season. Beverly McClellan invited me out when she played my hometown of San Diego, and as we were sitting in the green room, told me how happy she was that I was there. Nakia had his publicist specifically call me up because he knew he wanted to work with me. Jeff Jenkins turned the tables on me and told me how much he enjoyed me interviewing him. Blake Shelton encouraged me not to give up on my aspirations. And that’s all before we get to Jesse Macht, who started out as “the brother of one of my favorite actors,” and has since become a good friend and an inspiration to me as a musician. When I pick up my guitar, I do so knowing that I’m surrounded by remarkable musicians. Some people dream of playing with world-famous bands; I dream about playing with Jesse or singing with Adam and know that it could actually happen someday.

I have the opportunity every day to become a better person because these people have welcomed me into their lives. It’s a mind-blowing thing to know that I have people I can turn to for nearly anything I’m doing – and not just any people, but people I consider to be the best at what they do, many of whom I was a fan of well before we ever met. I talk to some of them regularly and some of them not so regularly, but they’ve all taught me something, and I know they all support me.

And thanks to them, I’ve found my opportunity to save the day. I have the power (and the means) to help other artists, actors and writers – to tell their stories. I’ve had some of those same people use quotes from my articles in their press releases and on their websites. I’ve been called “sweet” and “genuine,” “heartfelt,” and someone’s hero. I’ve had more than one person tell me how they appreciate my help in bringing awareness to their work or the things about which they’re passionate. I’ve been somebody’s first call, and that always makes me smile. I’m in a position where I don’t have to concern myself with hits or headlines. Whenever I get an email or a phone call of thanks, or have someone tell me they discovered something they love because I said something about it, that’s what makes my day. It might not be earth-shattering, but I know for certain that I’ve made a difference in people’s lives. That’s how I’ve gotten to be a hero after all.

Sure, I wouldn’t mind having a Batcave or being able to move things with my mind. But I get up every day and know that I have the support of my hero and that many of the people whom I’ve admired are now the same ones that I call friends. Aspirations have been attained and others made that suddenly seem plausible. It might not be glamorous but I’m living a life that I could only have dreamed of, and I continue to learn and love every day. Not bad for a comic book geek from a small town.

SOPA ... or Mayans?

Whoa.

Was that whole SOPA thing for real ... or was it more shenanigans from those Mayans ... ???

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

Rupe's Value Added Services Goes On Strike

The regularly scheduled programming for this site has been temporarily postponed as it blacks out in solidarity with thousands of other sites across the internet today, requesting all to contact Congress in an effort to kill the web censorship bill SOPA and PIPA.

Click on Mr. Burns above and get involved..

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

Dogwood's No More

Dogwood's, I was surprised to find last Saturday, is closing its doors for good.

I was shocked. I was just there a couple weeks ago to pick up some things. Everything seemed normal at the time ... vibrant ... busy. Customers were bustling in the aisles, inspecting fruit, loading up on spinach, comparing onions.

But the signs outside the store were definitive: "Closing Our Doors" is what they said glaringly on white banners with red letters. Time to go.

Dogwood's in Monrovia, CA was a community store selling produce, breads and specialty items. They had a deli specializing in interesting ethnic foods. Exotic breads were available. A salad bar. Baklava. Pickled this and marinated that. Sauces. Spices. Fresh roasted nuts. Cookies. Strange sodas.

All of it ... now gone. If I go there today, they're stripping the innards out of the place. Very sad.

The attraction of Dogwood's was the interesting and fantastic array of produce you could acquire. And for a song. Literally.

Brussel's sprouts available at Ralph's down the street for $1.99/lb. (more at times) were a mere 25¢/lb at Dogwood's. Caulifower? Not $1.99 a pound, 99¢ each ... and quite often twice the size of the ones purchased at the usual grocer's. Cherries for $1.50/lb, not $5.99/lb ... and Rainier cherries, too.

I used to love getting freshly roasted pumpkin seeds there. (I'm a pumpkin seed freak.) Pounds of spinach for creamed spinach. Squash at an insane price comparable no where else for miles and miles around.

There was an outside seating with a Hookah pipe for the gentlemen as the ladies shopped inside, complete with a "No Smoking" sign etched into the glass right beside it. (I never partook, but what a cool little distraction at a community market.)

I sought out the proprietor of the place, an amiable and smiling Persian fellow by the name Ali Baba. (No ... I'm not kidding.) He redesigned the place to his needs before he originally moved in, but found it too small for his ultimate needs. It was 5,000 square feet of building and he really needed twice that. He had sold it to some Asian investors and was in process of looking for another, larger location in Pasadena. I pumped his hand, told him a tale or two of my experiences in the place (all good) and that he and the store would be greatly missed when all was said and done. He thanked me and gave me leave to shoot some of the -photos you see here.

There wasn't much left in Dogwood's when I went in Sunday afternoon. I bought a couple bags of red pears (why in the world were there still red pears left ... ?!?), cranberries and Fuji apples.

The wind - so long fluttering in the sails of the store for years - had been taken out of Dogwood's ... and I'm going to miss it dearly.

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

Guest Post: Marie Watterlond

Operation Occupy Rupe's Blog

Marie (also known as "mehitabel") says:

"Blogging since 2006 on topics ranging from knitting and quilting to cats and grandkids and travel. Started the second blog a couple of years ago (too lazy to look it up) as part of the Project 365 challenge, which I'm once again embarking on. I spent my first 20 years in Mass. then came to California for a year to teach in L.A. That turned into *cough* quite a few more years here after I met and married Himself. I've had an eclectic working life--taught, sold real estate, got a law degree, worked for EarthLink, Vroman's, and the TC school district, as well as the quilt shop. Been teaching quiltmaking for over 20 years now. I love books, cats and dogs, traveling and learning new stuff. Working on reviving my French for a trip to France later this year, planning to go East to my grandson's HS graduation and my college reunion."

I've had the pleasure of not only meeting Marie, but rescuing her phone, too. You can see her shenanigans on her blog mehitabel's musings as well as her photography at Mehitabel 365.

Ladies and Gentlemen?

May I present Marie Watterlond ...

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

Food. Comfort.

When you think of "comfort food" what comes to your mind? Oh, I know what the foodie media associates with comfort food--usually it's the rich, creamy, starchy, heavy stuff. Or maybe they expect you to feed your "soul" on boiled greens and fatty ribs. Perhaps it's pasta slathered in Alfredo sauce. The chocolate pudding your mom used to whip up.

Generally, we find "comfort" in familiar foods, the kind that we grew up on. But what if your mom was a terrible cook? Then what? My mother was. Terrible, I mean. Part of it was my dad and the things he'd eat or not eat. Part of it was the times I grew up in, and the place. New England in the 40's and 50's (soo last millenium!) was hard living. Fresh food was abundant in the summer, when we could grow tomatoes, green beans, onions, pick fruit and berries off trees and wild bushes, and we'd make the most of it, canning what we couldn't eat right away. That would take us through the winter pretty well. But gourmet? Or even palatable?

I grew up on plain food. Potatoes were peeled and boiled and served plain. Meat was pan-fried most of the time, and cooked to within an inch of recognizability. Then I got older and got out in the world a bit. What a revelation it was that a person could put ketchup on meat loaf! Casseroles--mac n' cheese, tuna-noodle with crumbled potato chips on top. Spaghetti with "real" sauce, not a jar of canned tomatoes and some boiled ground beef. Parmesan cheese!

As sometimes happens, I found myself a married lady with children, and by default I was the chief cook (as well as the bottle washer, but that's a story for another day). Determined not to saddle my growing family with the hideous food I'd grown up on, and blessed with an adventurous husband, I started reading cookbooks and following recipes. (About that husband. He told me before we were married that there were only two foods he wouldn't eat, plain white rice and boiled ham. It developed that there were one hell of a lot of foods he'd never tasted or even thought about eating.)

Turned out that I was a pretty decent cook, and living in SoCal where fresh food was available pretty much year-round really helped. I even was able to adapt a couple of old family favorites to something my kids would eat. Take what my mom called Chinese Dish. It's a shepherd's pie, folks, with ground beef, green peas, creamed corn and mashed potatoes layered together and then baked till it's hot through and has a nice crust on the top. Amazing what using frozen tiny peas and actually seasoning the ground beef can do for a dish!

Anyway, one point of this essay (I generally get to the point sooner or later, usually later if no one stops me) is to share what is probably one of my kids, and their kids and everyone I've ever been to a potluck with, favorite recipes. It's called Cranberry Pie, but it's really more of a cobbler or buckle or slump or grunt or...well, you get the idea. No crust, no rolling out, no fuss, no muss, not much bother. Mr. Rupe will vouch for its tastiness.

Cranberry Pie (recipe from a La Leche League cookbook, circa 1971)

Preheat oven to 325. Butter a 10" pie plate (or an 8.5" x 11" baking dish) and put in it:

2 c, fresh cranberries (I just use a bag from the market. Sometimes they are fresh, sometimes I've frozen them. Either way works.)

1/2 c or so of walnut pieces

Sprinkle this with 1/4 cup or so of sugar.

Melt (in the microwave works well) 1/2 cup of butter or margarine (that's 1 stick; I use the stick I used to butter the pan) with

1/4 cup of vegetable oil.

In mixer bowl, beat 2 eggs well. Add 1 c sugar and 1 c flour, then drizzle in the melted butter/oil mixture. Beat it thoroughly. Pour this mixture over the berries and nuts, bake it at 325 for an hour or until the center is set and the whole thing is nice and brown. If your berries were frozen, it may take an extra 5 to 10 minutes.

You can cut this like a pie. It's especially good warm--let it cool for half an hour or so before cutting into it. That's usually enough time to get to the potluck! You can top it with ice cream or whipped cream if you like, but it's not necessary. It also makes a great breakfast food the next day or two.

No calorie count given, and as with many foods that are meant to comfort the body and the soul, none are really needed. Take an extra walk around the block, or spend a few more minutes on the treadmill. It's worth it.

(P.S. I've had a piece of Marie's cranberry pie fresh baked. It was fantastic. - Ruprecht)

Guest Post: Nyela

Operation Occupy Rupe's Blog

I'm pretty certain I "met" Nyela on-line during season 5 of American Idol along with a slew of other wiseacres who regularly blathered about the goings on of Taylor Hicks, Elliott Yamin, Chris Daughtry and other contestants. She's caused me little relief from consternation and laughter over those years. But I forgive her.

For some reason known only to her, Nyela continues to be an acquaintance of mine and even comments frequently on my CliqueClack posts and at other other social sites.

Ladies and Gentlemen?

May I present Nyela ...

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

“Hey, whatta ya want from me? I did my best.”

Okay, I may be old, and I may be cranky, but this defense [?] of shoddy effort irks me to no end. I’ve heard this too many times from too many deadbeats, and I am looking for the perfect one-line response. Any suggestions? Here are some I have used:

• I’d hate to see your worst. [Old standby.]
• Are you spelling “best” m-e-s-s? [Worked better when people could spell.]
• I’ll do my best not to laugh at that. [Immediately followed by maniacal laughter.]

Usually I just shake my head and walk away. Anyone willing to claim total failure as their best effort should be pitied. Or maybe they have never seen someone truly trying to do something their “best”.

Hattie McDaniel was one of the first black actors to earn a living at it. Condemned on one side for not knowing “her place” and the other for playing “Uncle Tom”, she had a simple response: “I did my best and let God do the rest.” Many a temporary celebrity today could learn from Hattie’s best.

I happen to know a young couple, Marc & Mandy, who are learning a lot right now about doing their best. [Marc tells their story in his own words at http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/quinnseymour] As caregivers for their four month old daughter with the rare disease EB, they daily do their very best to change her neck-to-toe bandages without causing more damage to her already devastated skin. Fear that their best will not be good enough is a constant companion.

The next time someone lies to me about doing their best, I’ll think of Hattie, I’ll think of Quinn, and I’ll do my best to not slap that person. If I’m lucky, maybe I’ll fail.

~ Nyela