An open road suddenly can sprout potholes.
A dude in Ohio apparently thought he was pretty clever. He could inhale 15 beers and not get nailed for drunken driving if he didn’t drive home in a regular garden-variety vehicle.
Instead, his mode of transportation was a bar stool powered by a lawn mower engine. A hot little number that could zip up to 38 mph.
But I guess those 15 beers were a bit much for his reflexes. He crashed his bar stool, rendering it as impaired as he was.
By the way, he was charged with drunken driving.
Back to the drawing board I guess, brewing up another invention over a few dozen beers.
People frequently ask me if notable blogger and notorious New York Yankees fan Al Walentis has an even bigger ego than A-Rod.
Granted, Al’s Blog does get more hits than Alex Rodriguez these days, since the Yankees’ steroid-stained slugger is recovering from hip surgery and will be sidelined until May.
And sometimes I feel the Zeke Blog is to Al’s Blog what Robin was to Batman, what Tonto was to the Lone Ranger, what Joe Biden (remember him?) is to Barack Obama, what George W. Bush was to Dick Cheney, what peanut butter is to jelly, what tonic is to vodka and what romance is to sex.
Still, until someone gets a shot of Al kissing the man in the mirror like A-Rod did for Details magazine in its “Confessions of a Damned Yankee” article, I’m thinking A-Rod’s head needs to be slicked with more butter than Al’s to fit through a doorway.
Cut and print. Ciao, baby.
Yep, Villanova’s 78-76 corpuscle-popping 78-76 victory over Pittsburgh Saturday night in the NCAA East Region final had an ending that was dynamically cinematic.
When Scottie Reynolds adroitly raced against the clock, deftly flashed into the lane and calmly sank a jumper with a mere five-tenths of a second remaining, it was an incredible climax that punctuated an improbable run to the Final Four.
The Wildcats survived a calamitous chain of circumstances to reach their first Final Four since 1985 when they pulled a David on the Goliath that was Georgetown in the title game.
But I must rip back the curtain on the confession booth and admit that I missed last night’s melodramatic and incongruous game.
The March Madness in our town these days also includes the marvelous VF Outlet Berks Jazz Fest and I was soaking up the funk as hot as skillet while Villanova and Pitt were going at it hammer and tong.
Even John Ernesto, the Jazz Fest general manager, took a quick break from the music and caught the ‘Nova finish that will well up like a terrible virus in Pitt fans for the rest of their days.
My wife and I, even though we both went to Temple, are avid Villanova fans because our son Drew graduated from there. So we DVR’ed the game, and early this morning watched it while flash-forwarding through the 1,743 commercials.
But the damn tape stopped with two minutes left in the game, triggering a torrent of profanity from yours truly.
However, being quick in my mind if not on my feet, I quickly flipped over to ESPN News and we finally caught the highlights of Reynolds’ memorable Saturday night drive through destiny’s lumps of shrapnel.
Even though we already knew the outcome because we unfortunately had overheard one Jazz Fest patron raving about the game to a buddy, it was such a welcome sight that we sat through several spools of the scintillating highlights.
Sports and music can both resonate in our souls more vibrantly than everyday life. The human spirit desperately craves much more than the mere mundane.
If the state Oks the South Heidelberg Township supervisors’ approval of a liquor license for the Shurfine grocery store on Route 422 west of Sinking Spring to sell beer, I know where I’ll be shopping for lunch meat and cheese.
Prospective employer — “What would you do if you held the Queen alone?”Larry — “That all depends on when the King was expected home.”Prospective employer — “Oh, a bridge expert!”
Curly — “I grow on people.”Moe — “So do warts!”
The Three Stooges were not comedians for the thinking man.
But they were perfect for the thinking child.
When I was a kid, I loved the Three Stooges more than I did ice cream, candy and my transistor radio. Well, almost.
As an adult, their comedy didn’t stand the test of time — or at least with me. I became more partial to the Marx Brothers as I realized I had an intellect every now and then.
Now comes news that MGM and the Farrelly brothers are finalizing the cast for “The Three Stooges,” a project the filmmakers have been nyuk-nyuk-nyuking about for years. Sean Penn is set to play Larry, Jim Carrey is in negotiations to play Curly, and Benicio del Toro is a rumored possibility for Moe.
If Alzheimer’s kicks in and I become more childlike by 2010, I just may love the Stooges’ manic slap shtick once again.
When folks are plumb out of money, they tend to stay home more.
Which frequently brings a spike in birthrates, especially when the TV reruns kick in and people grow weary of reading a book that some Russian wrote about God.
Of course, with the cost of raising children these days comparable to the gross national product of Paraguay, couples who ride out tough times together are asking for more financial trouble.
A consequence has been a dramatic increase in vasectomies.
I guess guys would rather get snipped than clipped.
And for guys already out of work and without health insurance, a cheaper birth control simply may be wearing dirty underwear.
With cigarette major brands now costing more than 5 bucks a pack, I can’t believe people still smoke.
They gotta know those expensive cancer sticks are gonna cook their health like a chicken-fried steak.
They’ve gotta go to bed with a bad feeling about the nicotine in their lungs and the burning hole in their weekly budget.