Heroes Of The Week!

Brett Favre: 25 Greatest Moments of His Hall of Fame Career | Bleacher  Report | Latest News, Videos and Highlights

In spite of climate change, Trump attrition, social unrest and oh yeah . . a global pandemic, the NFL is getting its game on once again. There will be story-lines aplenty as we’ll have kneeling players, canned crowd noise, demonstrations and more playoff teams. Tom Brady is now retired and living in Tampa while Cam Newton will do his best Darth Maul impersonation in the hopes of keeping the Evil Empire relevant. Because of the disparity in COVID rules from state to state, some teams will host fans at limited capacity while other teams will have no fans in attendance. The silver lining in this playbook is that Philadelphia falls into the latter category. Sorry Eagles fans, but you still suck. 

And now for a special Tuesday lineup . . . 

Bella Witt, 50 Yard Challenge, Three Hills

Imma start on the positive side of the equation this week, thanks to Dale’s chime about a young lady from Alberta, Canada. 14 year old Bella Witt is going the extra yard this year, fifty times over. She’s taking on the 50 Yard Challenge, in which she will mow fifty different yards in her community. The volunteer movement was started by Rodney Smith, Jr of Huntsville, Alabama in 2015. Those who sign up can tend to their neighbors lawns in a variety of ways- from mowing them to raking leaves and even shoveling snow. The kids get a different colored t-shirt for every ten lawns they complete until they achieve their ‘black belt’ status once they’ve gone fifty strong. 

“Since COVID-19 there hasn’t been a lot to do here and I thought why not help people,” explained Witt. “There’s so much going on right now and I just want to be a blessing to people who have a hard time.”

Oh Bella, you are a blessing to us all. 

Marjorie Taylor Greene wins Georgia's 14th district runoff - AxiosOn the flip side, we have Marjorie Taylor Greene diluting the gene pool down in Georgia. The Republican is running for Congress, and she’s got a lot of Trumpian ideas at the ready. Her newest gem? A claim that forcing boys to wear masks is “emasculating”.  Never mind that more than half a million American kids have been diagnosed with COVID-19 and there’s been a 16 percent increase in these cases since mid August. 

How’s about we fit Green with a duct taped mask? 

Last week marked the nineteenth anniversary of the most devastating terror attack on US soil. So it’s worth remembering in these trying times that if we take the uniforms for granted, we do so at our own peril. The boys at the FDNY came through again recently when they tackled 53 year old Daniel Biggs; who just so happens to have a rap sheet a mile long and was intent on adding to it. As he was riding his bike along the sidewalk in Bedford Stuyvesant, Biggs decided it would be a good idea to punch a sixty year old woman in the face. Two problems: One, it’s assault. And two, he did so right in front of a firehouse. So needless to say, Biggs didn’t get very far before he was brought to the ground by New York’s Bravest. 

These guys ain’t quitting on us, and the feeling is mutual. 

Imma wrap up this special Tuesday edition with a belated tribute to a couple of legends, who gifted the world their immense talents in two different arenas. 

Trailblazing Georgetown basketball coach John Thompson dies - REVOLT

John Thompson changed the landscape of college basketball forever. Before he got to Georgetown, the team was an also ran, having just finished out a 3-23 campaign. Within three seasons, Thompson had them in the tournament. He built a national powerhouse in the eighties, winning a national title and reigning supreme over the Big East conference. But it was the impression he made with his kids off the court that will stand the true test of time. When star center Alonzo Mourning and another player were said to be running with associates of reputed drug boss Ray Edmond, Thompson called for a face to face meeting with him in his office. At the meeting, the coach proceeded to get in Edmond’s grill, informing him he was to have no further contact with any of his players. Edmonds never did associate with another Hoyas player after that meeting. When the news of Thompson’s passing came down, his former star point guard Allen Iverson credited Thompson with saving his life. Interestingly, Thompson was supposed to have been on the United Airlines flight that crashed into the Pentagon, but his place was cancelled. He made these last nineteen years count. 

Chadwick Boseman didn't just play icons. He was one. | National News |  martinsvillebulletin.com

Whereas the inimitable Mr Thompson climbed every mountain set in front of him, there is a profound sadness to the passing of Chadwick Boseman because he had so many more mountains left to climb. In his all too brief career, Boseman wrote and directed several plays and appeared on a couple television shows before scoring a role that would put him on the map for good. 

His portrayal of Jackie Robinson in the movie 42 got the attention of Hollywood moguls and moviegoers alike. Rachel, the widow of the iconic ballplayer said watching Chadwick immerse himself in the role was like being introduced to Jackie again. And from there, the world showed up at his doorstep and Boseman was more than ready to take it for a spin. He played legends like Thurgood Marshall and superheroes like the Black Panther. He was box office magic with a screen presence that promised Oscars, as in plural. But while the world was busy gifting him the much deserved rewards of his chosen craft, life was busy taking him away from us even if we never saw it coming. In 2016, Boseman was diagnosed with Stage 3 colon cancer. He never shared this fact with the outside world, and he kept working throughout. He starred in several more films while undergoing chemotherapy as well as multiple surgeries. But it was a race he was destined to lose when the cancer returned this year. And it doesn’t make one damn bit of sense that he’s gone before he even really got started. That forty three years becomes the end instead of another beginning. 

There’s no song I could attach to this, because truthfully I didn’t come into this post expecting it would take me here. And now it doesn’t feel right, to put these final thoughts to music. So instead, I’ll place a picture of Boseman’s visit to St. Jude’s Hospital in 2018. Right in the middle of his stoic battle, he took some time for the kids, his fans. And this picture, I don’t know why but it fills me with peace. 

Sometimes there is music in the silence. 

Inside Chadwick Boseman's Emotional Visit to St. Jude's | PEOPLE.com

October 10th, 2001

The following are journal entries from my visit to Manhattan in October of 2001. I went with a team of volunteers to set up a free clinic at a police precinct on the East Side. With not a lick of medical know how, I quickly forged my spot in the group as the data entry specialist.

The results of this free clinic would later be sent to the Mayo Clinic and would serve as the first recorded documentation of the debilitating health effects suffered by first responders.

These particular journal entries came in the early morning hours of October 10, 2001. I’m leaving it as I wrote it, word for word. It’s disjointed and fragmented, but I have to leave it that way. The way I felt that night.

October 10th, 2001 .

I walked the streets tonight. I couldn’t sleep. Too wired. Too exhausted. I tried reading to put me to sleep, but no way. Its two thirty in the morning and I had to get this down. Something. I won’t take pictures. And I’ll probably never write a word of this time, but I need to just write this down so that I can read it when I go home. Even though I’ll never forget it.

. . . The streets were so quiet, so eerie. Just like after a snowstorm.

. . . We visited the hole tonight. If the wind is coursing your way, you can smell it from miles away. They smell it in Queens still. My sisters smelled it on their way home from Maine , days after it happened. They were on the Tappan Zee Bridge when they smelled it.

. . . They set up a perimeter around Ground Zero. We were a mile out when our police van was stopped, ID check. Going in they check ID, going out they hose your vehicle down.

. . . I heard someone in the van whisper ‘This is going to be bad’. We sat there in silent agreement.

. . . The hole is referred to as Ground Zero. It’s hell. It smolders and there are still pockets of fire a month later. I prayed hard. The sodium lamps carved through the night and gave it the illusion of an apocalyptic noontime. The workers are always there recovering the lost. They can’t leave, they won’t leave. They have to see this through for the lost. They have a different calling now. They’re not saving lives, they’re granting last rites. They will work this heap to the end, until every last piece is gone. They work all day and night, most lose the masks and keep on working.

. . . That smell. An electrical fire compounded a thousand times over. The smell of fuel makes you nauseous. The smell of fire sticks to you. It’s on my clothes .The smell penetrates every pore. We spent twenty minutes down there and I can’t get the smell off my skin, out of my nose and hair. It permeates. I held my breath as if that would chase it away. It’s always there. And these guys work that pit every day. Losing the masks. Still working. It’s going to be bad for them down the road. It’s going to kill them.

. . . I turned away. I didn’t want to see anymore. This is the worst of mankind. Those men working the pile are fighting hard against that worst but I felt it was all so hopeless. How senseless, all of it. I just wanted to scream I was so angry. I felt like throwing up.

. . . I didn’t bring a camera. Thank God for that.

. . . We talked about what this means tonight at the pub. The retired pastor warned against believing this will change policies or mindsets. He’s lived through Korea , Vietnam , the Kennedy assassination, the gulf war, Oklahoma City , AIDS, scores of natural disasters. He’s had his hand in the mix plenty of times. And none of those times changed things. Not really. I wondered aloud at the political gains to be had from this, because they’re coming. We all agreed. Political capital. Jesus. But true.

. . . These last couple of days have been surreal. I must have heard that word a hundred times today. When people spoke of the day, when people spoke of the days since. Always surreal.

. . . Friendship wasn’t a temporary excursion. It was valid and palpable everywhere. It held more than convenience. It held truth. People wanting to hear stories. Strangers crying them to other strangers. Smiles. It’s going to go away. We’re all going to go back to our old ways before long. Everything, even this hellacious thing, has a shelf life.

. . . The shrines. They’re everywhere. Every kind of personal effect you could imagine. Candlelit sanctuaries, a graceful patience. Every single story wants it back. The hours before the planes changed everything. Letters.

. . . Love letters, poems, family pictures, little league trophies,

. . . The streets bleed with these shrines. Every city block is a monument. And this is where I remember what this city is all about. Not a big town, but small villages. Each one holding a different story. I think to myself that I didn’t grow up around the city, the city grew up around me.

. . . Why do our differences generate so much hatred until something like this happens?

. . . Nothing divides us inside these shrines. Not race, not color, not party, not sexual preference. Inside these shrines, we’re all the same. Human beings. Why do we have to be knocked on our asses before we stop using these differences as a weapon? Before we start appreciating the fact that we’re all stories and not cardboard. Before we understand the intrinsic value in our differences.

. . . I picked up a teddy bear and held it for a while. She was twenty nine. Her father had left it there along with a letter. All the letters left by loved ones read the same way. They’re still hoping against impossibility that the missing are simply lost somewhere. It’s “Have you seen this person?”, and phone numbers.

. . . I held that teddy bear so tight, as if in the holding I could will her back to life. Return her to her father. And in that moment, I knew her, I knew them. I loved complete strangers. They had opened a door into their world and I entered.

. . . I just stood there and held that teddy bear tight. Strangers passed and I didn’t care. They didn’t either. We all were involved in these unspoken understandings all over the city.

. . . I just stood there and held that teddy bear and cried some. But I don’t remember her name. I wish I remembered her name. That’s so weird.

Play It Again, Spam


I have a personal Project in which i need your assistance I would like to be sure of your willingness, trustworthiness and commitment to execute this transaction worth (Twenty seven million United States Dollars)
If interested, reply immediately for detailed information.

Sgt.Genevieve Chase

Yo Gwen,

When a chica shoots me an email at one thirty in the morning about a “personal project”  . . . well, the mind wanders. And because you’re not content to make it easy on me, you add money to the mix and I realize how wrong I was to think I could outrun my days as a gigolo. But twenty seven million quesadillas is the kind of rate that would lock you into Brad Pitt on a retainer basis, for life. Back in the day, you could have scored me for a fraction of that price. Seriously, a hundred bucks and dinner at a steakhouse would’ve turned my trick. Okay, dinner at a steakhouse would’ve worked. Hell . . . a dive bar would’ve had me rappelling from the walls of a Holiday Inn. But I digress. 

If by “executing” this transaction you’re inferring that Imma be eating a piece of this ample pie, then I am all ears. But I do have a few conditions . . .

1- I get half of the twenty seven million US dollars. I ain’t in the mood for any last minute games where you go switching it out with bolivares, which is the global currency equivalent of pushpins. 

2- Send a private jet to pick me up. Fully loaded bar. 

3- Get me Bill Murray’s private cell, because that shit is priceless. 

4- My own Oreos cookie flavor- Marcoconut Creme. 

5- And one more thing. Don’t you contact me again, ever.  From now on, you deal with Turnbull. If you have any questions please direct them to Senator Patrick Geary of Nevada. Tell him Michael Corleone sent you. 

Ayt, that should about cover things for now. I’ll wait to hear from you, Sergeant. And please give Chevy my best. 

Hasta La Primavera, 

Julian Kaye

Heroes Of The Week!

30 Funniest Parks and Rec Quotes of All TIme | Best Life

As we inch closer to a national election that feels as if it was written by Judd Apatow, I thought about petitioning for a recount on my last Heroes episode. And then I realized that I didn’t actually use a political theme for the post, so never mind. And for the record? I’m voting for Bobby Newport in November. I’m half serious about that, and as Bobby would say, the other half is serious too. 

So now that I’ve gone two straight Heroes episodes without having talked politics, and my reward is an actual theme to gift you this week. The lovely Dale is playing Luke Skywalker, seeing as how she sent me three heroic stories this week. While I pick up the slack for Darth Vader by supplying the zeroes. I know, shocker!

And now for this week’s lineup . . .

The Yankees And Rays Absolutely Hate Each Other And It's Fucking Awesome |  Barstool Sports

Up until this moment, the Tampa Bay Rays have been that other team in every baseball movie. They’re a monochrome curiosity that is good enough to take the champion fifteen rounds, before getting steamrolled by the closing credits. But now they have a club with a legitimate chance to win it all, and so maybe their manager Kevin Cash should start behaving as if he’s been here before. The Rays skipper got all bent out of shape after Yankees closer Aroldis Chapman threw a a hundred mile an hour missile at his player’s head. Cash and his team have every reason to be pissed, but then he went and said this . . .

“Somebody’s got to be accountable,” Cash said. “And the last thing I’ll say on this is I got a whole damn stable full of guys that throw 98 mph. Period.”

How about you make the MLB do it’s fucking job. Make sure they hold Chapman and the Yanks accountable. But an outright threat such as the one Cash threw out serves no good purpose. If he’d chosen his words wisely, the onus would be entirely on the Yankees, but Cash went minor league instead. That’s a shame. 

Like any responsible homeowner, Dave Phoxe of Salt Lake City, Utah does what he can to keep his home and family safe from harm. He installed a security camera that syncs to his phone, alerting him to any uninvited guests who make the scene. So when he discovered that a little kid was using his driveway as a racetrack, he could have stormed outside and told the kid to scram. But Phoxe had a better idea. And so he made his driveway into a racetrack, drawing a lane that zigged and zagged to a finish line. Something tells me he’s got one hell of an encore for the kids who play on his lawn when he’s an old man. 

Clay Higgins says on Facebook that armed demonstrators 'won't walk away'  from Louisiana protests | News | theadvocate.com

Congratulations to Clay Higgins, the U.S. Representative out of Louisiana’s third district for taking the prize as biggest asshole of the week. No easy task these days, and yet Higgins makes it look easy with commentary that would make a serial killer wince. 

Higgins hopped on Facebook this week (This is what’s called foreshadowing) and proceeded to shit his feelings into the virtual world. His topic of conversation in this instance were the armed protesters showing up across his state. And for those of you with an allergy to ass hats with Rambo fetishes, you might want to move on to the next story, because the following is a sample of his rant. 

“I’d drop any 10 of you where you stand,” Higgins began, before continuing with “Nothing personal. We just eliminate the threat. We don’t care what color you are. We don’t care if you’re left or right. if you show up like this, if We recognize threat…you won’t walk away.”

I mean, where do I begin? Okay, maybe with an observation that goes something like this: Old Clay wasn’t posting shit like this on FB when white kids in PBR caps were walking through Wal-Marts fully armed. So yanno what I always say . . . there is that. 

Tom Seaver, greatest Met ever, dead at 75

Okay, so I lied. Imma dish up a tribute to an all time great who was a hero to every Queens kid back in the days of bell-bottom jeans and 8-track players. Tom Seaver blessed the game of baseball in myriad ways over a career that spanned three decades and five cities. He won 311 games to the tune of a 2.86 ERA in that space of time. He snagged Rookie of the Year honors in 1967 and was the ace of the Miracle Mets World Series team in ’69. He was a Cy Young winner three times over, an All Star twelves times and he pitched a no hitter as a member of the Cincinnati Reds in 1978. But as a man, he contributed even more than that. He was an ambassador whose grace, wisdom and experience has left a lasting impression on the game he loved. They really don’t write them like Tom anymore. 

Okay, for this last story Imma do things a little differently and just let author Shaka Senghor take us home. In his words. Because I could not have said it any better than he did on his Facebook post.

Last Friday night I was standing outside of a barbershop in Cincinnati, Oh,with a small group of mostly black men, when this officer walked over to a group of us. He looked around curiously and said “I don’t see a car blocking an intersection” while shaking his head. I asked him what was he talking about. He said someone called and reported that we had a car blocking the intersection. He paused for a minute and shook his head again. In that moment we both nodded and acknowledged what had just happened. Someone basically saw our group and made a false report. I asked him how long he had been on the job and he said 10 months. He asked what we were doing at the barbershop and so told him about the barbershop challenge Men of Courage and Ford Fund has sponsored. I asked if he wanted to come inside. He said he wanted to, but didn’t want to spoil the fun with his presence. Again we both nodded and acknowledged the reality of distrust between the community and police officers. I offered to take him inside so he could meet the owners and establish a relationship. I told him that someone has to take the first step to healing these relationships. He said he wanted to, but was unsure of what the reaction would be. I told him it would be cool and that Jerome Bettis and a host of other amazing people were inside. He lit up like a light bulb and said “No way The Bus is in there”, with a kid like smile. I said hold on, I’ll grab him and have him come out. Jerome Bettis came out and the officer stood there with his mouth agape before saying “if my dad was still alive he would be so excited, because you were his favorite player”. We all stopped and sat in the moment before they went on to take a selfie together. It was one of those moments that reminded me of our humaneness, our frailties and our similarities. In that moment we were all just men navigating the world without the mask we are taught and trained to wear. I could have taken my offense to the call out on the officer and accused him of being a racist cop. He could have believed the caller and acted based on stereotypes about black men in groups. But we chose to just see each other and talk like humans. It’s ultimately a decision we can all make. When he lit up like a kid at seeing his dad’s sports hero, I saw a little boy and the uniform no longer mattered. We can collectively choose to see beyond the uniforms we all wear.

It’s not easy and there is a lot of work to be done, but if we can at least start seeing each other, I believe things will get better.





Today’s Birthday! Virgo

Virgo Horoscope June 26, 2020: You're heading towards a financial crisis;  check astrology prediction

You can be extremely persuasive and charming (read overbearing and hard to take). You have strong morals, but like everything else, morals have a flip side; so you’re well versed in closets and hush money as a result. You’ve got more dirty little secrets than Jerry Falwell Jr’s burner phone, which is both impressive and tragic. 

Your friends fawn over your magnetism . . until they find you in bed with their spouses, after which they usually lodge an online campaign to destroy you. This is why you’re such a control freak and tend to play things close to the chest by blackmailing them before Google can get to digging its claws into you. Being such a prolific lover comes at a price, and you know how to collect while covering your ass, which means you probably went into the wrong profession. 

A hive of energy, you’re constantly doing someone, something. You’re notorious for taking on several projects at a time, and that doesn’t even include your side hustle peddling opioids to the kids at work. As a result of your mostly nefarious hobbies, you’ve learned from your mistakes and have become expert at pinning the blame on someone else. As far as relationships are concerned, you’re the ultimate pragmatist. So while love is all well and good, you seek a main squeeze with palenty of cheese. 

As true believers go, you’re a pretty damn good tennis player. 


The Silence Of The Spam- Volume #7,659

Hello Dear,

I have contacted you before but you did not respond to me. My name is Lucy Woolf. I attend university and I do part time work as a dressmaker. I lost my father in an auto accident prompting my mother’s death because of it.

My Father, Jacobs Woolf, willed me a large portion of his real estate holdings and income properties valued at £5,700,000 Pounds Sterling. I have yet to place a claim on it but right now things are not good and I’d like to have it. My Father’s stipulation was that I was either 30 years of age or married.

(Allowing my Husband to be in control). I am 26 so only my husband can make a claim on my behalf. I’d like to offer you the opportunity to stand in as my Husband and will share it for your assistance. Your interest will be properly protected.


Lucy Woolf


Dear Lucy, 

We have known each other many years, but this is the first time you’ve come to me for counsel or for help. I can’t remember the last time you invited me to your house for a cup of coffee, even though my wife is godmother to your only child. But let’s be frank here. You never wanted my friendship. And you feared to be in my debt.

Okay, I’ll ditch the Don Corleone preamble- God rest his soul- since you have no blessed idea what I’m referencing. But that’s the point. You’re trying to guilt me into a sick and twisted affair involving dirty money . . . and don’t get me wrong, I find that part of the equation extremely hot. But you don’t even know me, as evidenced by this idea that I would want to get married. Even for fun. Listen, I’m sorry to hear about your father’s untimely death. And not that I’m comparing, but your mother’s death is even more tragic, seeing as how she could’ve been partying in Rio right about now. But I digress . . . 

Your offer leaves me with so many questions and no good answers. If I was in the mood for that shit, I would just watch Fox News. So I gotta ask, was your father a Scientologist? Was your mother’s death ‘prompted’ by maybe . . your father running her over with his car? And do you think maybe your husband is just low key looking for a third in the bedroom? 

These questions may seem unrelated, and that’s because they are. But should you be able to respond to them with deep, dark, and diabolically illuminating answers that impugn their reputations, well . . it would definitely make you more trustworthy in my eyes is what I’m saying. After which I will have a few followup questions to which you must reply over steaks and martinis, with you and your hubcap picking up the tab. 

I must let you know that I will only consider this indecent proposal if I get a third of the silver. In a treasure chest. extracted from the Titanic by John Cameron. And you will borrow from your own share to purchase me a Bengal tiger. These are magnificent creatures whose savage instincts I do not wish to marginalize in the least, so I will also be requesting the services of Kelly Ripa to serve as the official walker. 

Listen, I realize my demands might be construed as unreasonable, but I learned a long time ago never to negotiate with terrorists. Mister Rogers taught me that. So tell that six feet worth of wood paneling that you call a husband to hit the bricks so you can do Rio in your mother’s honor with half the silver. And you’re welcome. 

Tata till tee time! 

Sean Roberts

Heroes Of The Week!- Convention Edition

4 Leadership Lessons from Captain America - AIESEC

Firstly, a big thank you to the beauty from Boucherville and the Cincinnati Kid for their heroic gets over the last couple of Friday episodes. I tried getting Vera Farmiga to fill in for this week, but her husband still won’t let me talk to her. Fucking guy!

So as the ‘Convention Edition’, I have no thoughts to impart on the blue party bash seeing as how I didn’t tune in. The only political story I read this week concerned Cardi B imploring Alexandria Cortez to run for President. Which means Cardi ain’t been paying much attention to what happens when you let a reality television star run the country. And for the record, I was the first to nominate Kamala Harris in this post. If it happened to inspire Joe’s decision, well . . you’re welcome America.

And now here’s the lineup . . .

NBA fires photographer Bill Baptist over offensive meme on Kamala ...

May the ghost of the late, great Glenn Frey forgive me for bogarting his double barreled classic of a line . . but Imma start on the cheating side of town with this first story.

Bill Baptist is a professional shutterbug out of Houston who has worked with the hometown Rockets for more than thirty years. Which is a pretty cool gig when you consider how he’s rubbed elbows with NBA royalty: From Clyde Drexler, Robert Horry and Charles Barkley to Yao Ming, Kenny Smith and Hakeem Olajuwon. Baptist lost his cool club credentials over a recent Facebook post in which he referred to Kamala Harris as a ‘Ho’. After which he apologized (of course) and insisted the post “does not reflect my personal views at all”. This is the first rule of online fight club: Never admit you meant what you meant.

A quick shout out to Houston Astros pitcher Zack Greinke. The Hall of Fame bound righty ain’t hiding in the sign stealing shadows of his band mates when he can have some fun with it instead. In a recent game against the Giants, he called out the pitch he was throwing, and still dominated. That’s some pretty cool old school if you ask me.

Ohio newlyweds turned their canceled reception into an act of service by donating their reception food to a local women's shelter.

Tyler and Melanie Tapajna of Parma, Ohio had planned on a kick-ass wedding reception replete with DJ, catering and one hundred and fifty of their closest peeps. And then COVID happened. Undeterred, the couple decided to donate the food that would have been served at the reception to Laura’s Home, a local women and children’s shelter.

“It was really either have the big wedding or donate the food,” Melanie Tapajna said. “We were actually kind of excited I think more about donating the food than being stressed during the wedding.”

There’s lots of good feeling takeaways to this story, from the decision to donate the food, to the caterer they used- Betty’s Bomb Ass Burgers- to how they showed up in their matrimonial swag to dish up their donation. And hell, I don’t have to condone marriage in order to wish these kids all the best.

And a double edged dagger of dumb to Eric Trump for tweeting about how “terrible” the DNC was. Why the hell was he watching the DNC in the first place? Is Duck Dynasty on hiatus? And not for nothing but the twitterati that went after ET can pipe down too. He’s a putz, we get it. Y’all are giving him exactly what he wanted by spending the night trashing him.

Officer Erika Urrea of the Lodi Police Department in California’s Central Valley, is a YouTube star. Not because she can toss back a dozen hot wings inside a minute or flip a water bottle and nail the landing. Nope, she’s a viral vixen for having fulfilled her job requirements of protecting and serving. In this instance, she was coming to the rescue of a sixty six year old man whose wheelchair had gotten stuck on railroad tracks. Urrea spotted the man and pulled him to safety moments before the train would’ve crushed him. And this morning, she ain’t getting a ticker tape parade. Instead, Urrea will get up and do it all over again. So to her, and to all those heroes in uniform who show up every single day, I say thank you.

Shout out to the San Diego Padres, who will only use cardboard cutouts of friends and family members at their home games. While most clubs are charging a fee for the cutouts- to which most if not all net proceeds go to charity- the Padres are keeping it in the family. I’m always dubious of clubs and leagues that get involved in social matters, because let’s face it, they ain’t got room to be playing pious. Good for the Padres in keeping things simple.

Fifteen year old Joseph Beer has two things going for him: A great last name, and an even greater sense of pride in his community. So it was that while on a walk with his mother, the kid noticed how his neighborhood’s aesthetics were leaving a little to be desired as a result of the lock down; from dirty street signs to overgrown shrubs. Beer got to stepping, scrubbing signs and trimming hedges just about every day. One neighbor was so impressed with his efforts that she set up a Go Fund Me page that has raised almost 1,000 pounds for him thus far. Mister Rogers would be proud.

A giant nea to Mike Lindell, founder and CEO of My Pillow, for going on CNN to spout nonsense about olenandrin as a miracle drug for COVID-19 patients. And an equally giant yea boss! to Anderson Cooper for calling Lindell on his shit. He pointed out how Lindell has a financial stake in the company and compared him to a “snake oil salesman”. Love it, AC.

Perspective is something I talk about often. And man, I’ve summoned it up more times than I care to remember over the past six months as we continue on inside this retrofitted existence as the result of COVID-19. And then I find a story that learns me a lesson, with dance moves to boot.

There’s never been a sense of normalcy for little Blake Sheffer. He was born prematurely and shortly thereafter began experiencing seizures that resulted in him spending too much time in the ICU at Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta. When he was just a newborn, his mother Lauren found him laying motionless in his bassinet. He was diagnosed with Supraventricular Tachycardia (SVT), which is a condition that causes him to have an abnormally fast heart rate. As if all of that wasn’t enough, little Blake also has a blood disorder which must be monitored regularly.

In his one year on this earth, the team at Children’s Healthcare has saved his life twice. And this amazing team has become an extension of a little boy’s life in the process. Because in spite of it all, the kid is a social butterfly who loves laughter and music, and dancing too.

When Quanda Riles heard about the little guy, she just had to fill out her dance card and partner up with him. The Environmental Services Technician at Children’s knows adversity first hand, as she suffers from a severe case of glaucoma which will one day take her eyesight. In the now, these two have formed a simpatico whose daily promise involves music and dance moves, and it’s inside the moments they bring to life where we can find perspective. A humbling reminder not to waste time being wistful about the things you miss.

Be thankful for the things you have.







Heroes Of The Week!

Abraham Lincoln Quiz | Britannica

Just a quick bit of housekeeping before I dive in to this week’s lineup of hits and misses. Marco will be going on a brief hiatus from the shop, say about two weeks worth of slinging some hibernating hash? And in the interim, I gots me a couple of All Stars who are going to make sure you don’t miss me one lick. The lovely Dale will be filling my roster spot next Friday and the inimitable Frank will bat for me the week after that. Make sure to show them some love.

And now to this week’s lineup . . .

Chiropractor may be able to crackdown on NFL head, neck injuries ...

My first entry isn’t really a story at all. I simply want to give props to the professional athletes from all over the map who have opted out of their respective sports this year. These guys are dishing up the truth when they tell us they’re dubious as to how safe their leagues can keep them. They’re putting the interests of their families and friends ahead of an entire calendar year of work, which is no small thing when you consider how brief the average career of a professional athlete is. I’m not going to name any specific player because I don’t want to leave anyone out; they’re all important. And what they’re doing is righteous. Yanno, I guess that is a story unto itself.

Get the he-- out of the country': Mike Ditka slams NFL players who ...

And on the flip side of that coin we have Mike Ditka. The former coach of Da Bears went on the attack recently. His target? All those kneeling players. Taking a page from his boy Trump’s handbook, Iron (Head) Mike says that if those guys can’t stand for the national anthem, then they’re free to get the hell out of the country. But I have a better idea. Why doesn’t he leave instead?

Next up is a two for one story brought to us by Dale over at A Dalectable Life.


You won’t find six year old Bridger Walker in the next Avengers movie, but that doesn’t mean the little guy ain’t worthy.

On July 9th, the Wyoming boy came to the rescue of his four year old sister who was being attacked by a German Shepherd. He says that “if someone had to die, I thought it should be me,” and if that sentence doesn’t shake you to your core . . then you may not have a core. As a result of his heroic act, Bridger suffered significant damage to his face that required ninety stitches. But he says he would do it all over again for the baby sister he loves more than anything in the world.

When Bridger’s aunt posted the story to Instagram, it caught the attention of none other than Chris Evans, who plays Captain America in the Avengers series.

So Evans responded to Bridger with this: “I read your story, I saw what you did. I’m sure you’ve heard a lot of this over the last couple of days but let me be the next one to tell you. Pal, you’re a hero, what you did was so brave, so selfless — your sister is so lucky to have you as a big brother. Your parents must be so proud of you.”

And then Evans sent Bridger his very own Captain America shield. After which Evans’ pals got involved too. Mark Ruffalo (The Hulk) reached out, as did Tom Holland (Spider Man) and they let the kid know what an inspiration he is to all of them. Even Anne Hathaway chimed in by saying that while she’s not a part of the Avengers, she knows a superhero when she sees one.

So the next time you see these guys in the theater? You’ll know whose script they’re working off.

I’m putting a bow-tie on this week’s episode with a beautiful story that is brought to us by the lovely Monika over at Tails Around The Ranch. It’s a story whose perspective has great value inside the world we currently inhabit.

Tommy Rhine has been running a shoe repair business in downtown Denver for more than forty years now. With the COVID-19 outbreak, Rhine’s business suffered so badly that it looked as if it would have to close its doors for good. It just wasn’t fair. Here was a guy who made a city feel like a neighborhood, who has greeted every working day by providing his customers with a primo job and a smile made just for them. Monika remembers bringing in her high heel shoes to Tommy when she used to work downtown. She says “I’m convinced he often gave the shoes a good buffing so they would look new,”.

Rhine had no luck in securing a business loan in order to keep his place going, and just when things were looking their worst, his community showed up, the way he’s been showing up for them for the pasty forty years.

The only form of promotion Rhine had to his name at that point came from a sign his son had placed in the window of his father’s shop that read “Black Owned Business”. It was a sign that was meant to at once curtail any possible vandalism by protesters while also being a way to attract business to his struggling enterprise. And while Tommy is not involved in the current day struggle for equity, he well remembers a time back in the sixties when he fought the very same fight.

That little sign in the window, it ended up changing everything. Ryan Warner of Colorado Public Radio tweeted an image of it, and the response was immediate. So they set up a Go Fund Me page for Tommy and now those forty years in business will get a few more added on to them. He’s getting donations from all corners of the map and customers who are bring in their shoes to him whilst featuring him on social media as well.

Tommy didn’t have a fat cat bailout to rescue him. What he got instead were neighbors and friends and strangers who appreciate the heart and soul he brings to his craft and want to make sure he keeps on keeping on. In a world where it seems as if too many people are out for themselves, here’s a story about showing up and giving back and appreciation. And it tells us the blessed truth of our humble existence.

Love matters.

The Sky Just Got Another Star

Regis Philbin dies — TV host was 88 - Chicago Sun-Times

As if this year hasn’t proven hard enough on our collective psyche, now the angels steal Regis Philbin from us. And yes, he lived a long, good life and he leaves behind a legacy that would be the envy of the most heralded of Popes. But still, his passing makes for one less thing that’s good with the world.

Regis was one big deal, a Bronx born kid who made good on the biggest stage after breaking into show business as a page on the Johnny Carson show. But his story speaks to the value in holding onto your dreams. Because his road to stardom sure as hell wasn’t paved in gold, and the signs, at least early on, were telling him to get lost.

He moved into Steve Allen’s time slot with a talk show of his own in the early sixties, and tanked. And when it looked as if a national brand was not in the offing, he never stopped being Regis. In the seventies, he did a variety show in St Louis and he also hosted a morning talk show out of Los Angeles. In 1981 he hosted a variety show on NBC with Mary Hart that lasted all of four months. It would take four more years for him to catch some much deserved lightning in a bottle when he paired with Kathie Lee Gifford for a morning show, after which things would never be the same for Reeg.

Or for us either.

Thing about Regis, he never took the ebbs personally. He knew that nothing was given and he considered it a privilege to simply be in the game. So when he got busy making all sorts of history on the flip side of syndication for his show Live, he never considered himself a big deal. Even though he was. In an industry where he won awards and produced big ratings, to setting a Guinness world record for most hours on camera in 2004 to hosting Who Wants to Be a Millionaire– helping to usher in a new age of game shows in the process.

To his lasting credit, the guy never changed. And it’s what we came to love about him most of all. Let’s face it, when you can make Kelly Ripa bearable, you’re doing something right. Regis did that, he made friends . . with everyone. From Presidents to soccer moms, from rappers to writers to Howard Stern. He made everyone believe the world was a better place. And as a fan of the Miami Hurricanes, I couldn’t even hold it against Regis for waving the flag of the Fighting Irish. Yeah, he was that good.

So now the mystic gets him, and I bet he showed up in one of those fantastic suits of his, sporting that signature smile. I sure hope that St Peter gives his people a couple weeks paid vacation for landing Regis.

They deserve it.


The Rebecca Hall Invitational

Iron Man 3 - Rebecca Hall interview: 'This is a whole new world ...

It’s been so hot lately . . . How hot has it been Marco? . .  It’s been so hot lately that Trump’s hair has been deemed a fire hazard, the Miami Heat are being asked to change their name and the Sun is suing us for copyright infringement.

So with the thermostat impersonating an NBA score, I figured on dishing up a hot plate of purr. The mistress of ceremonies, Rebecca Hall, was kind enough to lend us her feminine wiles for the occasion. She is my latest hostess for this semi-ish annual event. And don’t you worry because Vera will be returning for a fall special.

wallpapers for image rebecca hall in high res | Rebecca hall, Hall ...

Rebecca Hall- Why wouldn’t we start things off with this gal? She’s uber talented, she’s got the smile, the resume, the height (she feels tall, okay?) and the British accent. And that’s just the starters on this stunner, who can rock any hair style whilst playing spy games with your most particular senses. She can play nice or naughty, and she brings the funk to a rock and roll song that gets written every time she walks in the room. That’s called checking all the boxes.

Scarlett Johansson: Her Sexiest Films

Scarlett Johansson- Perhaps at no time in the history of sexy has a name fit the face the way these two fit each other. And I am still wondering why NYC hasn’t given this dame a key to the city . . for having been born there. I mean, what’s in the water? Because they really should bottle that stuff and issue an IPO, stat! Better yet, name her Queen of New York. She can live in Madison Square Garden since there ain’t nothing going on in that joint anyways.

Logan Browning

Logan Browning- Keep those eyes away from me, because they will force me under . . to a place I’ll never want to leave. She is dynamite, all squared up with some place to go. She’s the girl next door that you give a key to just in case she needed to borrow anything at all. And she plays shy with that look, but you know she understands her powers full well. Those eyes . . . they do not play fair.

Maribel Verdú, protagonista de Sin Rodeos: "Me niego a ...

Maribel Verdu- She could pass for Rebecca Hall’s sexy sister, but every time I see her I think of a Spanish Chrissie Hynde, singing songs of love to me. Don’t get me wrong (Had to), because Maribel earned this spot all by her Queen Bee self. She combines elegance, confidence and beauty in her inimitably timeless way. She doesn’t just rise to the occasion, she is the occasion.

Stana Katic – HawtCelebs

Stana Katic- Oh Stana, how far we’ve come from those days when I would bypass you when it came time for another Invitational. It wasn’t your fault you reminded me of an old flame in every conceivable way- most notably, how you come off as God’s gift. But then came your work in Absentia, where you slummed it as Special Agent Emily Byrne. You were so damned good that you forced me to overlook the fact that you were a lying, cheating bad girl who loved her drink too much . . just like my ex. Is that the definition of hurts so good?

Maria Taylor - ESPN Press Room U.S.

Maria Taylor- When it comes to college football, Georgia knows its business. But it’s beauties like Taylor that give the state its shine. The most beautiful sound I ever heard (on ESPN)? Maria . . of course. She stands out on the four letter, because she doesn’t have a schtick. She’s all business and she knows her stuff, and I hope she goes elsewhere some day seeing as how I no longer have cable.

Delilah' Comedy Pilot Starring Jessica Rothe From Sharon Horgan ...

Jessica Rothe- If you combine beauty, a smart ass personality and acting chops . . that’s the triple crown skill set that gets you to the Invitational. Rothe’s got it, and here’s my prediction of the week . . drum roll, por favor. She’s gonna win an Oscar some day. I just know it.

I can’t top an Oscar prediction, so I ain’t gonna try. Instead I’ll just ask you to keep it safe as we trudge through these dog days of summer. And sorry if I raised the temperature in here, but hey . . I was working off a script that is as old as Aphrodite, and every bit as powerful.

Stay sexy.