Love T.K.O.

Yes, it's sad that Teddy Prendergass has passed away. To be honest, until a short time ago I wasn't sure he was still alive - you know after that whole Rolls Royce crash into a tree, while he allegedly was receiving fellatio from a homo, tranny or prostitute, depending on which rumour you heard or believed. Oh and it left him to be a para or qudra palegic. There is one time when the price is too high for a blowjob.

But my friend Sal, when I told him about Teddy, (both are, or were, from Philly) he came back with some much more devastating news: the inventor of Spaghettios died at 83!

Not so coincidentally, Franco-American were based near Philly as well.

Now that is the Love T.K.O. I'm talking about. Spaghettios were my go-to comfort food growing up. And when I mean, "growing up", I mean up until about 10 years ago. No meat balls. No franks. That stuff was just disgusting.

I was telling Sal, I liked a piece (ok 2 or 3) of white buttered bread and then you just put some Spaghettios on top of that bread. I love(d) it. Or as Sal said, "ohhh, you're getting me hard". Nice!!!

But it is nice to know I'm not the only one who didn't look down on such tres déclassé food-like product.

So, no offense to Mr. Prednergass, but his death is overshadowed by someone who truly touched my life.


Song by: Teddy Prednergass

Ode to a Friend

First off, I recognize this is way too soon to be writing this - it is just that I am at a loss right now.

This is my friend Fred - one of my oldest and longest lasting friendships. I've known him longer than David - who you read about here and there on this blog. I've known David for 25 years (this month!). I've known David longer than others you read about here: Morty, Jon, Dith, Becca.....and even Denton.

Fred I knew a bit longer, as we worked together in NYC. He was just one of those guys you immediately connected with. The kind of guy you knew by the end of week one, we'd be friends for life. And we were.

Unfortunately, life ended for Fred yesterday. Unexpectedly.

It was just one of those calls you never expect to get. Another buddy of ours let me know - and it literally took my breath away. How could this possibly be? He is my age!

Fred was one of those joie de vivre guys - but when you're 20/21, we'd never call it something like that. Or if you were straight....which at least he was.

But straight/gay didn't matter to Fred. He loved me for me. It never bothered him. He was never less affectionate with me because of it. He is possibly the first man who ever hugged me. On my last day in NYC, he held onto me in grips of which I rarely have known. He got them right back.

Fred is the only man I've been to Staten Island for. It's where he was born and bred. He is the only person I've gone to the Jersey shore with. He made me do shots of some horrid drink called 'slippery nipples'. He even got me the ID to get into the Jersey bars with. That was the same weekend I did my first hard drugs - not a moment I think either of us are proud of, but it happened.

Fred and I had our favourite chinese restaurant in China Town. Hop Kee. Once a week, we'd head up there at lunch and eat what is still the best chinese food I've ever had. When I go back to NYC, I try to get there, but not everyone is as fond of it as we were.

We'd also head to Washington Square Park with beer in brown paper bags like we were common drunks. It's the only way you could sit outside and drink. Open container laws, and all. So many days of getting out of work and having fun. I saved not one dime from that internship.

Oh - and big time wrestling. Fred had to take his little brother and dragged me with him. It was ok. Madison Square Garden and the height of the era with the Captain Lou Albano days (along w/Cyndi Lauper), and Roddy Piper. It was even cheesier then than it is with WWE.

Or the time we saw Purple Rain when it opened. I am 90% sure we were the only two caucasians in the theatre. ...and another audience member provided me one of the funniest stories and best lines I still use to this day. Fred and I would use it often and laugh and laugh.

There were the dive bars we went to - under the Brooklyn Bridge that smelled of the nasty side of the Fulton Fish Market - not the pretty touristy side. No, the one where they clean and gut the fish and leave it in barrels - in the heat, next to "the bar", which I'm sure was some illegal operation.

But you know, these are all memories I have thought about often of the last quarter-century, and all with affection and love.

Though I've told the story often, to many folks, I can't do it justice here. But it was my last night, before my last work day - and they all took me out. The tequila. The subway. The passing out. Somewhere in there - as he headed to the Ferry - was that hug.

It was a hug I probably misinterpreted for years - and probably on purpose. One I probably wanted to be something else, but I knew it wasn't. And it didn't matter - not really.

As long-distance friends do, communication became less frequent. I made the effort after 9/11 - as we both worked right under the towers. He had gotten a different job and moved to Jersey. He got married. He had kids.

As with any friends and these situations, there is regret. We tried to have lunch each time I was in the city. Last time I couldn't. I had time for two non-work events and it was lunch with my sister and hanging with David. There'd be other times for Fred. Or so I thought.

We talked a few weeks ago. The plan was to meet in early October. He was getting back in touch with Mitch, who is the one who let me know. I even texted them as they were going for reunion drinks (one bad night with them 25 years ago turned me off of sake for life - thanks Mitch!).

I hate not ever knowing his wife or two young sons. I'm so glad they all got to see Paris last month. I hate the fact that I won't be attending his funeral. Besides work conflicts, I am not sure I'd know anyone but Mitch - assuming he went.

I hate the fact that two days ago I ignored some seemingly stupid Mafia Wars game he invited me to play on Facebook. Would it have hurt to play it with him?

I bemoan the fact that even though he was taken too early - and he was - as there was no greater good or g-d's plan in shit like this. And I hate that we are of the age where these things now happen and with more regularity. I hate that!

I am sad. I am angry. And yet when I think about him, I still smile. I will cry for his wife and boys. I will cry for him and I will cry for me - no doubt. Those kids will know how great their dad was because dozens will tell them so during their lifetime.

If you're out somewhere - raise a glass to Fred. He was a prince among men.


Song by: Jann Arden

Pretty in Pink

How can John Hughes be dead?
That's just impossible.

That is how I found out that John Hughes was indeed dead. Well, that and a quick confirmation from CNN.com. No offense to Rebecca, but even her sources need to be verified. (and my, someone updates wikipedia immediately!)

Whether you liked his stuff or not - and it was very very hit or miss - for a long time, Hughes defined teen and family movies. Even if you're not of my cohort, the movies that are of today are direct descendants of his work in the 80s.

Just last week (?), I posted his Sixteen Candles done in 30 seconds by Bunnies. It was fun, but not as great as the real thing. That ranks in my top 10 movies of all time. Yes, it's not Citizen Kane (which is also in my top 10), but it's a great 100 minutes of film fun. Every line a great quote. Seriously.

I wanted to like Breakfast Club so much, but I could never buy into it. Did anyone buy a 33 year old Judd Nelson as a high school student? I liked the concept, just not the execution.

I didn't even like either the concept or execution of Pretty in Pink. Ok - I liked the fact that Annie Potts got work. And who doesn't like it when Duckie sings and dances to "Try a Little Tenderness"? Maybe if she ended up with Duckie and blew off 33 year old high school student Andrew McCarthy, I could have bought into it.

What I really don't get is why I liked the exact same story so much better when it was repackaged a few years later in Hughes' own Some Kind of Wonderful. (Morty will now deny it, but eons ago we claimed it as a guilty pleasure.)

Oh - and in Pretty in Pink, we had to endure OMD's "If You Leave"....and more than once!

Of course I don't know anyone who doesn't like Ferris Bueller.

I will cop to not knowing he wrote National Lampoon's Vacation. As funny as that was - and let's face it, it was - you still had to endure three (three!) Home Alones.

They cannot all be masterpieces. And if nothing else - we have Sixteen Candles.

Maybe when Rebecca is in town this weekend, she'll come over and we'll just get some beer, and Rainbow Chips Deluxe (yes, it is as gross as it sounds) and kick back and watch it - and have some good laughs.


Song by: the Psychedelic Furs

Death or Glory

Poor poor Farrah Fawcett. Upstaged in death.

Lucky lucky Governor Sanford. Knocked out of the news cycle after just 48 hours.

Clearly I missed part of the news yesterday afternoon as it turns out, because I left work to go to yoga. My yogini (Kris swears that's a real world/title) was happy happy happy to tell everyone who walked into class last evening - "Did you hear Michael Jackson died?"

My first thought was "Oh my!". The immediate second thought was, "who cares?"

Like Grease or E.T., I might be the only person who never owned a copy of Thriller. I didn't care - for it or him. Oh, you might not know - I've never seen Grease or E.T. Yes, I'm the one!

I will cop to liking parts of Off the Wall, but that's about it. I will say that when I saw some of his crap belongings at the Rock and Roll Hall O'Fame I was disgusted. There were shoes on display that said they were designed by Michael Jackson, the King of Pop (and the phrase was copyrighted). I am telling you - they were Bass Weejuns.

By that point, any talent the man displayed had been replaced by freakish behaivour and looks.

Admittedly, in 1984, I purchased a child's watch with the cover of Thriller on it down on Canal St in NYC. It was for a joke - and mainly because I couldn't find a good Menudo one.

Though the strap is broken, I still have that watch. And it still works! (I tried to get a good pic of it this morning but it was a no-go.)

I'm sure there are millions of tributes in blog-land to him. And possibly to Farrah too - but I'm not one of them. I will go off on a tangent, though.

Except for Charlie's Angels, I'm not sure I saw her in anything. Like all those things I listed above - I didn't care to. I wasn't going out of my way - that's for sure. ...oh, and I didn't buy her poster in hopes of concealing my homosexuality. Trust me, I know a few guys who did.

But I certainly had a thing for her then-husband - Lee Majors. I didn't realize it at the time, but what a huge gay-crush I had on him, not just in the Six Million Dollar Man, but he was frickin' hot The Big Valley, as Heath, the bastard son of Victoria Barkley's dead husband. Heady stuff for the '60s. I love how they acknowledged illegitimacy at least in the first episode that introduced him. Granted, it was never discussed again.

I'm not sure she traded-up with that freak, Ryan O'Neal and his family. He was never hot. He was no Steve Austin, a man barely alive. Of course, Lee did wear those leisure suits - so he wasn't that big of a catch.

...and poor Ed McMahon. He's not even on the radar....even for the Angel of Death. Even in the 'it comes in threes' rule, he is still the side-kick.


Song by: the Clash

The French Mistake

Poor Dom DeLuise. Dead.

He'll be missed - not that he's really been seen in the last decade. At least not by me. Unless of course, I'm watching Blazing Saddles - which can be a frequent occurrence.

It is such a great movie and so could not be done now-a-days. I think it was my first R-rated movie. My mother would have said 'no', so of course I went to my father who was clueless about these things and gave me his permission.

Naturally, it was the bean/fart scene that had 12 year olds just rolling in the aisles - me being one of them. There were so many other jokes that were so much funnier, but you needed some age and wisdom behind you to catch on. It's not like the entire movie isn't quotable. My man-date, Scott, and I do it all the time.

Of course, I distinctly remember the entire two minutes or so "Buddy" was in the movie - right near the end. It's still funny when he says, "watch. me. faggots!" Like I said, I'm not sure they could pull off some of this shit anymore.

Enjoy the clip.




Song by: a bunch of Sissy Marys.