GOO-GOO DOLLS

The English language as we know it will soon no longer exist.  Words will have no meaning, in fact, there will be no words, just telecommunications, via some thin, oblong object you carry in your hand.

Stuff that Gene Roddenberry made up for “Star Trek” is already here.

And it all ads to the loss of language.

So what got me on to this? The word “fun” maybe.

Something is fun, or more fun, or the most fun.  It’s NEVER “funner.”

Words are now invented as we go along, words which really have no meanng.

Take the word “google.”

In the old days, it was a word in a song describing Barney Google’s eyes. Now, of course, “google” has replaced the words dictionary and encyclopedia in the English language. You no longer seek information in an encyclopedia, you “google” for info. You don’t look up a word’s meaning or proper usage in a dictionary, you “google” it.

So last week I’m watching comcast and a reporter is conducting an interview with a college basketball player. You do your interview correctly, you look up info on the person you’re interviewing, find something interesting to make it more than “how you guys gonna do this year.”

So the reporter went to the only source of info available to him. Not the school’s media guide, or even speaking with the sports information office which puts together the media guides. No, he went to “Google.” Wonder why he didn’t use “Bing?”

So he said to the kid, “Did you ever google yourself?”

The correct answer would have been, yeah, don’t you? (I don’t really have to explain my meaning, do I?)

Then he said, “I googled you.” At which point the kid should have reached for a body part and backed away.

OK, I “google” things, too. even when I’m Thinking. And I guess I “bing” things sometimes, just to be different.

But I never say that I “googled” something, and never, ever that I “googled” some person.

Here, google this. Ain’t that funner than anything?

Next time, pay homage to a great man and say “I barneyed you,” just to see what the reaction might be.

LET’S EAT

It’s time to start doing restaurant reviews so ………

Brigantessa, just opened on East Passyunk Ave. in South Philly, the mecca of haute cuisine. (Wait, let me google that to see exactly what it means.)

Went with my sister and two OLD friends from the neighborhood. Left during the second quarter of the Eagles game. Got a lot of attention in the restaurant when I asked one of them to look up the Eagles score (I mean, google it.). When I saw 53-10, I blurted out, “Holy Shit.” That got me some attention, but, hey, it’s South Philly, so that’s how it is.

Anyway, Brigantessa…

Something like eating in a Spanish tapas. Take one or two items, before the main course, from different parts of the menu, then just pass them around the table. Among the things we had were small slices of swordfish, pizza balls (come on, don’t ask me to be too specific), olives, prosciutto, all great.

Then the main courses, again no complaints (except it took a long time getting to us). One of us ordered a pizza (not me), which Brigantessa seems to specialize in, for take out, too.

And then, most importantly, great desserts, cannolis, gelato, rum cake, bread pudding (of course I remember them better than I do the main courses).

Prices range from $8-$25, place needs more lighting (hate dark restaurants), but the newest of the Passyunk Ave. restaurants should make it.

FEED THE LITTLE FISHES

It was a weekend of international matches throughout the soccer world, and in Europe that meant qualifying games for the 2016 European Championship.

This involves 53 of the now 54 European soccer-playing nations (minus France which will host the Euros). So you have your Germany and Italy and Spain and England, and those countries which the British press loves to refer to as the “minnows,” your Faroe Islands, Liechtenstein, Luxembourg, Andorra (between Spain and France, not in Roxborough), San Marino, of course, and now, Gibraltar (nickname the Rockies, women’s team the Rockettes?).  Everywhere but Vatican City and Monaco.

WHAT A WEEKEND!!!

The Faroes won 1-0 at Greece, causing the Greek coach to take a “leave of absence”…..The Liechtensteiners won for the first time in10 years, 1-0 at Moldova (a country, not the name of one of Jerry’s girl friends on “Seinfeld”…..AND San Marino ended a 61-match losing streak, back to 2004, with a 0-0 draw in Milan (it’s close enough, there’s no room for a stadium in San Marino, which is built into the side of a mountain…I drove up it).

The Minnows are taking over Europe.

 

THE CZAR OF ALL THE DISEASES

Made it.  Just in time we have an Ebola Czar.

Or is he an E Coli Czar?  Or is it E-mail Czar?  Does he replace the Drug Czar?

So many Czars, so few Russians.

Apparently the Disease Czar has no medical background, but is an administrator.  So when those Ebola cases start rolling in, at least we’ll have an accurate bed count.

There’s no vaccine to prevent the spread of Ebola, so it seems the best anti-Ebola plan is to stay out of Africa.  (Wait, that’s a book and a movie, right?)  So much for the burgeoning tourism industry in South Sudan.

The good news is that apparently Nigeria has been declared Ebola-free.  How did they figure that out, by testing every Nigerian?  Just by naming this new Disease Czar, the Ebola germs have gone away.  He just looked at them germs and they dried up.

What a guy! I’m sorry, What a Czar!  (Heard he has a daughter named Anastasia.)

Since the Czar can’t do any needle work, his main job will be to prevent widespread panic as we all flee willy-nilly running from them Ebola germs. (See “The Walking Dead” on AMC.)  He’ll hit the airwaves and the Internet to let all Americans know that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself, and all flights from Africa, too.

But to show how little we have to fear, the Czar met a plane from Libya when it landed at  a secluded place at an unnamed airport and kissed everyone getting off the plane.  He did not get Ebola, but all the Libyans wound up with the whooping cough.

Nah, this Czar has no fear of any Ebola, but I heard he’s deathly afraid of guys named Lenin, Trotsky and Stalin.

LET’S TOAST MLS

The big news coming out of Minor League Soccer, er, Major, Major League Soccer last week is that Heineken has been named the official Beer of MLS.

This is important because every sports league that wants to be major MUST have an official beer.

Let me quote from the official release on the official beer.

“This gives the brand an additional springboard to challenge Americans to choose new experiences and open their world.”

What the fuck does that mean?

From Heineken’s chief marketing officer: “Fans in the U.S. and across the globe appreciate the opportunity to enjoy first class soccer with the highest quality premium beer.”

Can you say pitch invasion?

And finally, from the president and managing director of MLS Business Ventures: “Heineken is a great fit for what’s next for Major league Soccer.”

England has pretty much cleaned up its hooligan problem, so let’s bring it over here so we can at least act like a real European soccer league.

Yeah, a real major league.

 

THIS ONE’S REALLY FOR THE BIRDS

In case you missed this heartwarming news story…

A parrot named Nigel, which speaks with a British accent, disappeared from its cage four years ago.  Somehow it flew back into his home in Torrance, Calif. a few weeks ago.  It was recognizable because it was still carrying the cane and wearing the monocle and top hat it had when it flew off.

However, Nige now speaks fluent Spanish, and has become an accomplished parrot Flamenco dancer.  He told his owner, a guy oddly named Darren Chick, that he wants to be addressed as Senior Jose, and refuses to fly on the left-hand side of the sky.

Any comment, Mr. Hitchcock?

GEICO STRIKES AGAIN

If you’ve been reading my Thoughts for awhile, you know that I consider the GEICO commercials to be genius.

And the latest goes right up there, where it’s explained that if you appear in slasher movies you make dumb decisions. Like not jumping in the car with the motor running and drive away, instead deciding to hide behind the hanging chain saws, hoping nobody wearing a goalie mask sees you there.

Stuff like that is why the GEICO brand is better known than that MLS thing.

Just Thinkin’

**So the Nobel Prizes were awarded in the last week.  I didn’t expect to be in the running for Chemistry or Medicine or Physics, but I always think I should be considered for the Peace Prize.

Lost to a couple people from the Subcontinent.  Not even a whole continent, a sub one.

And then there’s Literature.  You may remember my comments when some guy from China won two years ago, Mo Yan, who had written such widely read masterpieces as “Big Breasts and Wide Hips” and “The Garlic Ballads.” (Check the Thoughts from October, 2012).

This French guy’s name is Patrick Modiano. The Swedish Academy compared him to Marcel Proust, who wasn’t nearly as literate as Marcel Marceau, a rather quiet Frenchman.  Proust never won the Nobel, so what was this, a make-up call?

Look, like most of you I’ve never read anything by Modiano or Mo Yan, and I probably never will.  But let’s see these guys knock out a weekly blog.  And do it in English, too.

So let’s help the Nobel people get into Century No. 21.  I’m starting a campaign for a Nobel Award for the Blog.  And naturally, you know which Blog I’ll be pushing.

OK, I didn’t win the Pope vote, and I’m still Peace Prize-less.

But next October, with all of your help, I’ll be expecting to get that collect call from Stockholm congratulating me on winning the first Nobel Prize for Blog.**

**A couple of interesting obits in the New York Times last week.

Pal Revere, of Paul Revere and the Raiders, not of the Midnight Riders, died, and the Times headline read: “Paul Revere, 76, Rocker With a Catchy Name.”

OK, so if the Times were around when the older guy died, what would the headline be? Maybe, “Paul Revere, 83, Enjoyed Late Night Horse Rides.” Or, “Paul Revere, 83, Silversmith, First John Hancock Insurance Agent.”

Then the guy who was the poster head for “Hair,” the legendary “American Tribal Love-Rock Musical,” died.  You know, top half of the show’s poster and album cover was the guy and his big bushy Afro, the bottom half was a reflection of the top.  All done psychedelically, of course.

His name was Steve Curry, and he will always be a symbol of an era in American culture, yeah, that Age of Aquarius.

Good Night Starshine.

I Just Saw …

“The Drop.”

Starred James Gandolfini, playing Tony Soprano in retirement.

If you don’t think so, then why’s he make a short speech about being a big shot in the good old days, with his own crew.

Good cast of little-known actors, the only name I recognized besides Gandolfini was Noomi Rapace, and that’s only because it’s Noomi Rapace.

Takes place in Brooklyn, good story, no real surprises until the end.

And don’ worry, nothing happens to Rocco.

Worth seeing.

 

I’M CALLING SECURITY

Hey, how ’bout visiting the Obamas down in D.C.?  I’ve heard they have an open house, doors are always open.

So, the Secret Service doesn’t lock doors or close windows, and lets more than just little kids having Easter Egg Hunts run around on the White House lawn.

Let’s get this straight.  All those college football coaches with the free police protection down on the sidelines, those millionaires with the headsets, are better protected than the President of the United States and his family. Try to get into a football facility on a college campus and see how many alarms you set off. Unless you’re Jerry Sandusky at Penn State where you have your own set of keys and everybody knows your name and your business but won’t talk about it.

And why not?  What’s become the more popular cheer, “S-E-C, S-E-C,” or “U-S-A, U-S-A?”

Did you notice how many cops were surrounding those winning coaches on the field on Saturday as students all over the South were involved in pitch invasions. Have you ever noticed how many cops surround the president? A lot less than the ones surrounding those head coaches. Hey! keep those damn cheerleaders away from me!!!

So Obama, look, you want to be safe in your home, just say you want people to call you “Coach” from now on and not “Mr. President.”  Then see how much respect you get.