I'm Your Huckleberry...

Oh yes. It's about that time. What time you ask? Well, the time where I wonder how I've lived my life without ever seeing the film, Tombstone. Hey, it's okay. Luckily for me, I had the chance to view this gem over the weekend (thanks to my wonderful family and their love of Westerns, guns, blood, and bad-asses!). And what can I say? I think I've just found my Huckleberry...

Yeah, you know what I'm talking about. I'm talking about Kurt Russell getting all "Wyatt Earp," getting dressed to the nines, grabbing his family, and moving to Tombstone. And then what does he do? He runs into the most visually stunning representation of Doc Holliday that this world has ever and will ever know: Val Kilmer. HELLO! The guy is running around shooting people while he's smoking a cigarette. He's all sweaty and pale because he's got tuberculosis. He's a dentist who kicks ass on the Faro table and just about everywhere else. And you know what else? He's intelligent. He's witty. He can tell you where to go...in Latin. And when he's drunk, he'll shoot you--because he's got two guns, one for each of you.

I've been officially blown away by this film. And why? Because it's a bunch of cool guys shooting other guys. It's about vindication. Shoot out at the OK Corral? Yup, it's all here. It's about friendship. It's about Doc being there for Wyatt, even though he's practically ready to die, because that's his buddy.

Okay, I know the movie is more about Wyatt than it is about Doc. But let's face it...Doc steals the show. He's the coolest guy, ever. And not to mention, he's sexy as hell. Holy Hotness! Hey, I didn't have to say it, but....well, I wanted to. It's true. Look at the man. Oh, alright...I'll pick my jaw up from the floor now.

Not much else to say. Just that if you haven't seen this film, it's a must. As in, do it. You're a daisy, if you do...

"It's a Sad and Beautiful World..."

Sometimes it seems like we waste so much time worrying about how we look or what we're doing tomorrow night to even realize this; it is truly who we are that really matters. Sometimes a beautiful face can catch our eye; our an outfit, or a car. My friend Mechelle was beautiful. Cute Mechelle; no-makeup-beautiful Mechelle. But today, Mechelle worries not about the new home she just bought, or sub-letting her condo. Today, Mechelle has left this world.

I met Mechelle at orientation; we started working at Foxwoods together. Her seniority number was one above mine; her badge number was two above mine. We became friends. Sure, she was a beautiful girl, but she was also a hard worker with amazing motivation. She put herself through college and bought a condo; she'd just bought a home near the beach. Mechelle's drive always impressed the hell out of me.

Mechelle used to worry, though. I think that when you're really pretty, people don't realize what you're like on the inside. But those who knew Mechelle knew her as the crazy girl in the service bars; she'd dance and sing and make everyone laugh. Even when she didn't want to work anymore--we'd still laugh about something.

There is only one thing that I regret; that I promised Mechelle I'd push her through graduate school and I'll never be able to do this. Last week we talked about our futures and really making something of our lives. She told me that she'd need me; I told her that I'd be there. I never imagined that *she* wouldn't be there.

There isn't much I can say now; just that everyone around here is upset over your leaving us, Mechelle. Because you were sweet and funny and we all loved you (even when you drove us crazy; even when we wanted to look after you and couldn't)--because we still do love you. I just hope that you know that we're heartbroken over you.

The last time that we worked together I told you that I didn't feel like being at work, but I was glad to be with you, because I knew you'd make it fun; I knew that you'd make me laugh. And you did make me laugh...I just want you know that like everyone else, I will always remember your smiling face. Of course, I want you to also know that I will carry with me who you were inside; sometimes tortured; sometimes confused; always, always caring. Mechelle, you had a huge heart and that is something I will never forget.

RIP Mechelle Rutka (1981-2006). I love you and I already miss you.

It's all about the 4077, baby!

Remember when M*A*S*H used to be on television, and everyone thought Alan Alda was cool because Hawkeye Pierce was cool? Remember when you'd laugh at the funny parts and wish there were more? Did you ever have a giant question mark in your head about why Hot Lips was called "Hot Lips, " or why in the hell the theme song had words, and why those words dealt with suicide? Did you ever just sorta dig M*A*S*H, and then forget about it?

I did. I enjoyed it, and then forgot about it. Then I got a little visitation from something called M*A*S*H the movie. I starting watching this foreign substance, thinking, "what the hell is this? That isn't Hawkeye!" Boy, was I wrong. That not only *was* Hawkeye, and not only was he awesome, but so was the rest of the film.

I mean, where else are you going to find Elliot Gould (such a kick-ass Trapper John, I must say), Tom Skerritt, Robert Duvall, and Donald Sutherland just being cool together? The comedic beauty of the film is that yeah, it's silly, but at the same time it's completely dry and tongue-in-cheek. Being the war film buff that I am, I had to take into consideration some of the reviews that the film has gotten (in contrast to my other favorite war films--particularly Vietnam films [The Deer Hunter, Apocalypse Now, Platoon], you have to realize that M*A*S*H comes at it from a completely different angle, forgoing the drama and focusing on the guys attempts to make the best of what they have). While it is the prototype for the television series, people have often discarded the film as "not serious" enough to compare to the television show. But what would you do in East Asia? Would you round up a bunch of guys in your unit and play a football game? Yeah, probably. Would you drink martinis in nothing but your BDUs and a bucket fishing cap? Hell, yeah! When faced with the day-to-day gloom of operating on wounded soldiers, what allows one to validate his existence? Not that saving lives isn't a lofty job, but one must exist for some semblance of happiness. What is life for, if not the enjoyment of hitting on nurses in the mess hall?

This film isn't a drama; though it doesn't seek to poke fun at the Korean conflict, it does try to bring light to a murky situation. What do you do when you're (drafted!) thousands of miles from home, never knowing if you'll see your family again? What's to say that you'll ever return to the way of life to which you've become accustomed? What would you do? Would you take an excursion to Japan under the guise of a life-saving operation to go golfing? You bet your ass you would, cause I would too. Life, when you have nothing, needs to be improvised. And I think M*A*S*H is a damn good example of how this could work. Plus, it's a damn funny, well-acted, brilliant film.

I'm sorta feeling a little, "Alan Alda, who?" right about now. After his fine performance, you better believe that Donald Sutherland is my Hawkeye from now on; why don't you make him yours, too?



Who wouldn't want these guys to operate on them? Lovin' 'em!

The Darkest Day

This just in...Captain Joe Thornton has been traded from the Boston Bruins to the San Jose Sharks. I'm in shock and I'm not one bit happy. This is Joe...this is my Joe!

Now it's official...I'm never buying another player shirt again. First it was Mientkiewicz, then Bellhorn. I thought I could buy a Thornton shirt and feel good about it. Apparently not. The Black Widow strikes again.

Nothing But Net (more Ricky Davis love)

This might be a first--I think I'm actually speechless. After tuning into the Celtics game with about three minutes left on the clock, the C's were neck and neck with the G's. I thought, when Memphis pulled ahead with less than 30 seconds left to play, that perhaps the Celtics were through. *Sniff*.

And then it happened. If you didn't know that Ricky Davis is mother-f'ing awesome, now you know. You've been told, by me. I just saw him kick Memphis in the teeth with a two-point shot with zero seconds on the clock to win the game, 99-98. "Amazing" doesn't quite cover it, but...you get the picture.

Nice. So nice.

This is how we do it...

Whoa. Now if I didn't see it, I just wouldn't believe it; a Boston team not only a game won tonight, but they also managed to exhibit a high level of skill as well convey true camaraderie between teammates. I mean, Ricky Davis hustled harder to help up Raef LaFrentz after he got knocked down than Manny Ramirez has toward *any* base, in any given ball game.

But enough about baseball (I never thought I'd say that, but I've heard enough about Theo's departure today to become an expert on the topic); I'm talking about basketball. With all of the hub-bub surrounding Theo Epstein's departure from the Red Sox organization, Boston almost forgot that today marked the season opener for the Celtics. In fact, I really didn't give much thought to it either. Then I decided to watch the game.

Though the Celtics won in overtime (114-100; they kicked it up several notches in the last five minutes), the Knicks gave them a run for their money through all four quarters of the game. No doubt, it made for extrememly exciting basketball. Between Paul Pierce, Delonte West, and Ricky Davis, the Celtics seemed as though they could match anything the Knicks were able to dish out--and then some. The teamwork and dedication that these guys put into tonight's game was just beautiful; you know, if let yourself get into the game, you actually forgot about the Boston Red Sox for a minute. Amazing. There's more to Boston than the Red Sox. Who knew?

Kudos to the Celtics--they played hard, and they played like they cared about winning. I actually felt something as I watched; and that's more than I can say for any game played by any other professional sports team in Boston within the last few months. Ah, there's still hope for Boston fans...

Ah...vindication! (sort of)

Allow me to take this opportunity to offer my sincere congratulations to Dan Shaughnessy. Good job! You've single-handedly (well, ok...maybe you had a little help) ruined the Red Sox organization. It must feel pretty good to write an article that makes an otherwise managerial-minded Theo Epstein turn his decision from re-signing with the Red Sox to resigning from the Red Sox.

In case you haven't heard, I'll bring you up to speed. This little gem of Shaughnessy's appeared in the Sunday Globe. I guess Dan was chatting with his insiders within the "club" (Larry Lucchino?) and decided that whatever he knew about the dealings between ownership and the current (now ex) GM, was best highlighted (in neon lights) in the paper. According to sources, Theo Epstein apparently read the article (which "aired" the organization's "dirty laundry") and decided that he felt that the lack of trust within the organization coupled with the ongoing media frenzy that surrounds the Boston Red Sox, was just not his thing. This I can undertstand.

What I don't understand is Shaughnessy's article in today's paper. First you talk about the Epstein-Lucchino relationship like it was ham and eggs, spilling the inner-workings of the heads of the Red Sox organization in your column like it was a soap-opera. Now, today, you try to weasel your way out of the blame (nice "go ahead blame me" attitude Dan--don't try that reverse psychology stuff--we *do* blame you) by re-writing the same article the day after the deal goes bust. It's not that we blame you for the demise of the core of the organization--we blame you for putting that giant nail in the otherwise not-yet-purchased coffin. Thanks for the burial. The epitaph reads, "Here lies the Red Sox Organization under the managerial eye of Theo Epstein. Dan Shaughnessy killed it."

But don't worry Dan! It's not that Red Sox Nation will die without Theo. Sure, we'll find another GM. It's just that we sort of like Theo; we like his "Dunkin Donuts" commercials; we like winning the World Series (and I use the term "like," when it means "completely love" winning the World Series). But don't despair...just because we actually won a World Series doesn't mean that your book won't sell, Dan. I'm sure you don't have to worry about that.

I guess it's just that once again, you've imparted your (ehem) "wisdom" somewhere that it doesn't belong. I mean, kudos for talking shit about Peter Gammons, too; it's not like he'll be defending your honor with FSN or ESPN (whoops!). I mean hell, who cares what he has to say, right Dan?

At any rate, I do feel somewhat vindicated that the faithful of Red Sox Nation are continuing their anti-Shaughnessy sentiments. I don't like seeing Theo go, and I sure as hell don't like Shaughnessy signing his walking papers. I mean, this just speaks volumes of Dan's journalistic integrity, doesn't it? But, whatever...it's "all good" for him; he works for the Boston Globe/Red Sox Organization. I mean, it only makes sense for him to "break" all the juicy inside stories, doesn't it?

It makes me think of that childrens tune, "There were four in the bed, and the little one said, 'I'm crowded, roll over." Yup...so they all rolled over and one fell out. Dan; don' t let the floor hit you on your way out. I heard that it hurts a lot.

Damn the Man

Oh man. Oh man! I just wrote this whole piece about Dan Shaughessy's lastest masterpiece (ie; the article that Theo Epstein supposedly read to solidify his resignation); when I went to publish it to the internet, it simply vanished into cyberspace. Therefore, I draw this conclusion:

Not only is the Boston Globe a huge conglomerate that owns part of the Boston Red Sox, it also runs the internet. And its editor just happens to be Dan Shaugnessy. That afro-haired mother just edited my post right out of existence. Damn it!

I will rise again. Not right now, because I'm completely pissed off that I've lost all of my hard work...but I'll be back.