Showing posts with label Ernest Borgnine. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ernest Borgnine. Show all posts

Sunday, December 25, 2011

Thanks, Big Guy! II


                                   Yep! I'm counting these!
                                            Again!

                                                
It’s that time of year once again that many of us stop to consider how much we have to give thanks for.

And I’m no exception.

And considering how miserable I am, I also stop to give thanks as to how much incredibly more miserable I would have been without how much I have to give thanks for.

I am thankful:

 1.   That the comic strip Blondie is still running  in the Philadelphia Inquirer, because Blondie is the only comic strip character I had  masturbation fantasies about when I was eight and still do at 61.   

 2.   That  All the World's a Stage.  Although why did I get such a crummy bit part?

    3.   That although I am of an age when I can no longer be cute,  I believe I will be able to pull together at least a couple of good years of impish.

 4.   For the Gift of Laughter. Although most of the time when I get it anymore I think I've been regifted.

 5.   That I do not have a chin cleft like Kirk Douglas or Tom Brady because fetching though they are,  how the hell do you ever clean them out?!

 6.  That surprisingly enough, I have already pretty much gotten over Regis Philbin

 7. For the Jewish people, without whom I would be Swiss.

8. For each and every one of my Twitter Tweeps, because they're far less annoying to deal with than real people.

 9.  That Spiders never joined the Axis Powers.

10.  That the mirror in my attic which is getting old instead of me has never asked me if it could have "work" done.

 11.  For the Philadelphia Phillies, who enable me to experience that disappointment so sorely lacking in all other areas of my life. 

 12.  That they made that  second "happy" ending to The Invasion of the Body Snatchers because I have enough personality problems as is without turning into a giant seed pod.

 13. That I am not Robin, the Boy Wonder because imagine all that time and effort and keeping in tremendous shape and sucking up to Batman and  trying to do homework while the Joker is attempting to kill you and still  --- not a lick of college credit?!!

14.That I am not one of Santa's elves,  because those ears and this nose would be a bit much!   

15.That as much a disaster as my life is or ever has been,  I have never once walked into a room and seen Ernest Borgnine standing there. 


16.For Newt Gingrich, without whom people would think that I  have a goofy looking head and body.


17.That women about whom I fantasize whom I actually know personally do not possess ESP and  powerful weapons.  

 18.That my cup runneth over.  I've got to remember to turneth off my cup whenever I leaveth the apartment!

 19.For schadenfreude, wherever and whenever I can squeeze what little of it I can.  

  20. That I am not being stalked by a robot assassin from the future.   Though frankly I'd be kind of proud that my kid is going to lead the rebellion to save humanity!

 21.  For the sun in the morning and the moon at night because were it any other which way, I'd probably be in Antarctica and freezing my ass off!   

and

22. For my own very  special private  place where no one else ever goes!   My blog.

 

       And so, for all these wonderful blessings, I hereby tender

My most tender and juicy
Thanks,
Big Guy!

Here’s hoping you have similar reasons to give thanks during this festive season, and that you don’t
royally screw them all up in 2012.

Happy Holidays, Everybody!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
 


Tuesday, October 26, 2010

My Editor, My Son

A Portrait of the Editor as a (Much) Young (er) Man

They say every good writer needs an editor. I don’t know if that’s also true for the bad and indifferent ones but --- whichever kind of writer I am --- an editor surely I’ve got.

And he’s 15 years old and I used to diaper him!This wouldn’t bother me if Brandon Block would approach my humor writing with a deft and gentle red pen. But he rips into my work like Ben Bradlee editing the latest tell-all book by Kitty Kelley!

“Dad, lose that entire concept!” snapped Brandon last week, peering over my shoulder at the locked-up Microsoft Word document pulsating on my PC screen. “It sucks!”

“Why, Brandon?” I asked. “The Lone Ranger needs a new companion and instead of a native American, he hires a Jewish man. Funny!”

“Not funny, Dad!”

“But, Brandon, instead of shouting a hearty ‘Hi - Yo, Silver!’ he shouts a hearty ‘Hymen Silvers!’ Funny!”

“Dad, totally lame.”

"Why???" I protested.


Because nobody knows who the Lone Ranger is! That character hasn’t been on TV in my lifetime!”

Well, like I said: All writers need an editor and I’m fortunate to have one with his finger well positioned on the cultural pulse. But my own personal Perry White is also driving me mesuganah!

My professional relationship with my hard-boiled editor began when Brandon started to show an interest in the humor writing I’d done on and off for over 20 years and in earnest for the last year. Normally secretive, I usually don’t share my work-in-process with anyone short of receipt of a Congressional subpoena.

But Brandon thought it was cool that his dad was writing funny, so I began showing my nascent humor pieces to him.

And he’s been slicing, dicing, and frying them up in a pan ever since!

"Frankly, Dad, this piece wouldn’t be funny to anyone if you were tickling them!"

“Dad, this reference to the woman you dated as 'Ernest Borgnine with lipstick' is your third ‘Ernest Borgnine’ reference in the last month! Try 'Jonah Hill in high heels.' More current, more funny!"

"What are you trying to write here, Dad, the operator’s manual for your new toaster?”

It isn’t that Brandon means to be harsh or insulting. He realizes it’s tough out there in The World of Trying to Get Stuff Published, and he just wants me to put my best foot forward.

I told him in that case I was going to need a third foot.

He told me that line wasn’t funny!

This afternoon,  Brandon and I were reviewing my latest piece on the History of Life on Earth, which posits that very little true progress has taken place in the span of time between the emergence of the first uni-cellular creature far beneath the primordial seas and the granting of a late night talk show to Carson Daly.

"Dad," said Brandon wearily, "that comma should be a semi-colon, you've used the phrase "lame butt" three times in one paragraph .... and Carson Daly?

" What about Carson Daly?" I asked.

"That's a totally wrong name.  You might think he's a yutz, but a lot of people like him. Now here's the right spot for Ernest Borgnine!"

I could take it no longer.

"Brandon,” I shouted. "Don't you ever like anything?"

“Sure, Dad. I liked Joel Stein’s last piece in Time very much.”

Joel Stein!” I sputtered. “Why that overrated ….!!!  Did Joel Stein ever diaper you?   

“Chill,” said Brandon, “it’s a joke.  And by the way, Dad ...

You’ve just got to develop a sense of humor!”

~~~~~~~~~~

Monday, August 30, 2010

Ms. FortunePhone

A New Romantic Comedy
Written, Directed, Produced, and Cast and Crew Terrorized
 by
 Perry Block

As presented on the Society for Human Resources Management (SHRM)
Voorhees, New Jersey Stage
by
The Tri-State Human Resources Comedy Troupe
May 7, 2010
(One time only; they couldn't afford us!)  

Characters
Perry Block, shy participant in the company 401 (k) Plan .... Perry Block

Ms. FortunePhone, automated female voice of company 401 (k) Plan .... Debbie Deissroth _________________________________________________

The First Telephone Call

Perry enters, sorting through mail.

Perry: Websites!!! Interactive Voice Response!!! Isn't there a human being out there anywhere???

He begins reading.

Perry: Look at this! “Announcing 401 (k) FortunePhone, the exciting new way to access your Company 401 (k) plan. Just punch in this pin .... (wearily) All right, what’s to lose…..?
Perry sits on a stool centerstage, puts down the mail, picks up phone, and dials the number.


FortunePhone: BEEP! (a very pleasant sounding female voice) Welcome to 401 (k) FortunePhone!

Perry: Oh .. er ... hello, FortunePhone. I ... uh ... just dialed the number that came in the mail, and...

FortunePhone: (very upbeat and friendly) and I’m so glad you did, sir! Just punch in your pin number, press the pound sign, and I’ll help you with your savings and retirement plan in (a bit provocatively) whatever way I can.

Perry does so.

Fortune Phone: BEEP! Hello, Mr. Perry Block! You know even though this is the first time we’ve spoken, I feel I know so much about you already …. your social security number, your birthdate, the fact that you were afraid of the basement until you were 37.

Perry: Wow! How do you know all that?

FortunePhone: (coquettishly) Looked you up on Facebook!

Perry: (naively pleased) How ‘bout that!? Well, how do we get started?

FortunePhone: (patiently) Let’s begin with your total vested account balance. Please press 4, then the pound sign.

He does so.

FortunePhone: BEEP! (sounds almost sweet) As of September 1, 2010, your total vested account balance is (pause) oh my!!! I hope you won’t think me forward, Mr. Block, but you’re a bit behind in saving for retirement.

Perry: I am? How far behind?

FortunePhone: At your current investment pace, retirement will not be viable option until October 27 in the year 2284.

Perry: Well, gee! (very Jack Benny) I was kind of hoping by then I’d at least have a 1-way coach class ticket to Miami Beach and a coupla of really nice pairs of plaid pants.

FortunePhone: (amused) Ha, ha, that’s cute! But if I may, Mr. Block, I believe the problem’s that too much of your money's in our Guaranteed Investment Account. You could get a better return in one of our more aggressive growth funds.

Perry: Well, what do you recommend?

FortunePhone: Here's one: The All Hell to the Winds Fund, managed by one of Wall Street’s rising young stars, Mr. Bob Beta!

Perry: (impressed) I’ll try it! Uhh, FortunePhone, could you please transfer 25% of my account balance into the Hell to the Winds Fund?

FortunePhone: My pleasure, Mr. Block. And best of luck to you!

Perry: Thank you, FortunePhone. It’s been nice talking to you.

FortunePhone: And nice talking to you! BEEP!



The Second Call

Perry is sitting on the stool, smiling, and looking quite all right. He reaches for the phone and dials the number…

FortunePhone: BEEP! Welcome to 401 (k) FortunePhone!

Perry: FortunePhone, hello, er, er, this is Perry Block.

FortunePhone: Oh, hiii, Mr. Block! (sounds happy to hear from him and he’s pleased with this response) What can I do for you tonight?

Perry: I just wanted to check my balance, FortunePhone. Could you tell me what…?

FortunePhone: Of course, Mr. Block! BEEP! As of September 15, 2010, Mr. Perry Block, your total account balance is up 17%.

Perry: Wow! That’s...that’s great, FortunePhone! Thank you so much for your help.

FortunePhone: (almost shyly) Don’t thank me, Mr. Block, that’s (pause) just my job.
Perry: FortunePhone, uh, could you please call me Perry?

FortunePhone: Okay, Mr. Block… (slight giggle) I mean, Perry. You know, I really do enjoy talking to you, and…… did you know, I’m following you on Twitter!

Perry: Wow…. you and no one else! You know, FortunePhone, before I met you, my store of financial wisdom was limited to never borrowing money from anyone with a broken nose named Louie.

FortunePhone: (laughing) Perry, you’re funny! I wish I could be as clever as you. All I know about are dull mutual funds.

Perry: FortunePhone, no, no, no….. I think you’re, you’re wonderf (catches himself) .... I mean, wonderfully efficient!. Umm, anyway, could you transfer another 50% of my account to the Hell to the Winds Fund?

FortunePhone: Of course I will, Perry. Until we speak again…..BEEP!



The Third Call

It’s late at night. Perry is seated on the stool, wearing red pajamas with little elephants --- or something similarly goofy. He is obviously excited. He smiles, looks about, smiles again, and dials quickly.

FortunePhone: BEEP! (very warm and nurturing) Welcome to 401 (k) FortunePhone!

Perry: Fortune Phone, it’s me, Perry! I just had to talk to you.

FortunePhone: Perry! It’s so late! BEEP!! But I’m sooo glad you called, just listen!

Perry: What is it, FortunePhone?

FortunePhone: Perry, as of September 24, 2010, your total account balance HAS  RISEN (very sexy!) another 37%. Congratulations, my friend!

Perry: You’ve really done it all for me, Fortune Phone.

FortunePhone: No, Perry. I didn’t do anything. You did it! All you needed was a little investment information .... and someone to believe in you.

Perry: FortunePhone, I’ve just got to ask. Uhhhh ...... What do you look like?

Perry begins to pour a glass of water.

FortunePhone: I’m so flattered! Go on our website, and with a click of a mouse, you can make me appear however you want me to be….

He lifts the glass, dreamily sighs, smiles and looks heavenward.FortunePhone: I could look just like Scarlett Johansson


He almost melts with delight. Then he takes a sip of his drink.

FortunePhone: Or, if you prefer, like Ernest Borgnine.

Perry does  spit take into the audience!!


FortunePhone: Just having a little fun! Goodnight, Pookie! BEEP!

He's delighted! As he hangs up, Perry mouths the word “Pookie," pauses, raises both arms high in the air, and jumps!

 

Perry: YES!!!

 
The Fourth Call

Perry is looking a little tense and out of sorts. He circles the stool, sits down, and quickly dials the phone.


FortunePhone: (nonchalantly) BEEP! Welcome to 401 (k) FortunePhone.

Perry: FortunePhone, it’s Perry, something’s gone wrong…

FortunePhone: Oh, hullo, Perry. (dully) Yes, your account is DOWN 28 percent since last Tuesday.

Perry: (frantic) FortunePhone, what’s going on?!


FortunePhone: BEEP! Last night Ben Bernanke spoke at a banquet. He recommended everyone bag the market and stash their cash in the Sealy Posturepedic.

Perry: What the hell is he doing?

FortunePhone: (a bit snotty) If you’d like an explanation, press 8, then the pound sign.

He does so.

FortunePhone:  If you ask me, Mr. Bernanke should never mix white with red when he's having fish.  BEEP!  Sorry, Perry, have to go, got a heavy day of statement prep tomorrow.  BEEP!

We hear the phone line click off. Perry looks puzzled and unsatisfied.


The Fifth Call

Perry is watching TV, looking disheveled and distraught. He walks over to the stool, sits, grabs the phone, and pounds out the phone number.


FortunePhone: BEEP! (with a new edge in her voice) This is 401 (k) FortunePhone!

Perry: (breathlessly) FortunePhone it’s me!

FortunePhone: Me?

Perry
: Perry. Perry Block. I’ve been watching Maria Bartiromo and ....

FortunePhone: That bitch?  Mr. Block, you know how this works! Push your pin, then the pound sign.

FortunePhone: BEEP! As of September 28, 2010, your account balance is plummeting towards the earth’s core like a wayward rocket in a Jules Verne novel!

Perry: FortunePhone, how bad is it?

FortunePhone: Mr. Bob Beta has left the All Hell to the Winds Fund and is entering a monastery in Tibet.

Perry: FortunePhone! Why didn’t you tell me to …?

FortunePhone: Mr. Block, please! I do not give financial advice. I provide investment education!

Perry: FortunePhone, please, I..I…

FortunePhone: Don’t worry! You still have enough money to buy those stupid plaid pants!

Perry: FortunePhone, you never used to say things like that before!

FortunePhone: Mr. Block, my technology is ever improving. I now provide 401 (k) information and sardonic comments. BEEP!


The Final Call

Needing a shave, scant hairs very mussed, and pacing back and forth, Perry finally sits on the stool. He settles himself and dials the number.


FortunePhone: (cold and robotic) BEEP! This is 401 (k) Fortune Phone.

Perry: FortunePhone, this is...

FortunePhone: You again? (seemingly irritated) Press your stupid pin, then the pound sign.

In a cold sweat, he does so.

FortunePhone: BEEP! As of October 1, 2010, your account balance is one tiny little cookie crumb compared to what you started with.

Perry: I don’t understand, FortunePhone! What happened to us!?

FortunePhone: Us!? There is no us! I am a highly infallible marvel of modern computing technology. You are a highly fallible human being who even today, is still afraid of the basement!

Perry: FortunePhone, that was a cheap shot!

FortunePhone: No sense of humor! And to think I used to find your foolish blathering amusing!

A male digital voice: BEEP! The service you once knew as FortunePhone is now is now closed to the likes of you!!

B-E-E-E-E-E-P-P-P!!!!

Perry drops the phone, then shakily places it on the receiver.

Perry: (despondently)
What do I do? What do I do!? (glancing at the mail beside him) Wait, what’s this in the mail? (reading) Your company Employee Assistance Program (EAP) understands you ….. just dial 1-800, then your pin ….

Perry does so frantically.

Perry:
Hello? Hello! Please! Is this the EAP?!

EAP Careline: BEEP! (a warm, caring female voice) Welcome to EAP Careline. 24 hour a day automated help with a Caring Touch! EAP Careline really cares for you.

Perry: (naively) Really?

EAP Careline: For help with any personal problem you may have, please press 8, then the pound sign.

Perry punches in the number.

EAP Careline: BEEP! (same warm, caring female voice) Hello, Mr. Perry Block, how can I help you?

Perry: Careline,  please call me Perry.

EAP Careline: All right, (pause) Perry…. (giggles)….


The End   

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Thursday, August 19, 2010

The Versatile Blogger Catch-All Category Award


Meryl Streep, resplendent in a black strapless evening gown, paused as she ripped the envelope asunder at the 2010 Versatile Blogger Awards Ceremony at Santa Monica's Eggland's Best Eggs Center.

“And the winner of The “Non-Vampiric/Non-Ain’t our Family Wacky?” Catch-all Category Award,” Ms. Streep began  “is ....

"No!  No!  Not THAT loser!!!”

Gasping for breath, Ms. Streep’s eyes met mine! All four of them exchanged cards, discovered they all vastly prefer when it’s better this way rather than better THIS way, and decided to meet for lunch on Thursday, splitting the check four ways.

“That loser?!” I bristled. “She’s got to mean me! But then … then that must mean I’m actually…. a winner!”

I was on the edge of my seat!  That's because I could only afford ¼ of a seat in the posh Eggland's Best Eggs Center, which wouldn’t have so bad had not 350 lb. Bruno Haldecker purchased the remaining ¾ of the seat.

“I hope ya win the stupid award, loser,” he wheezed, “so I can get me a couple a minutes on da damn seat alone!”

But I’ve gotten ahead of myself. Which is not surprising as I remember passing myself a couple of miles back on I-95;  boy, I had a lot of nerve driving so slowly in the left lane!

It all began last November.  My life filled to the brim with meaningful vocational and recreational endeavors and richly satisfying social intercourse with peers, colleagues, and close compadres, I decided the time was ripe to spend 7 - 8 hours a day on Twitter.

Ahh, yes, I well remember my first tweet:

“Twitter is the dirtiest sounding clean word in the English language.”

LMAO!!! If I do LMAO so myself!

I was tweeting my profundities at that time into a vast empty expanse of a Twitterverse ---similar to what I imagine to be the nature of the actual Universe, except the Twitterverse has order and purpose and a deity named Ashton Kutcher.

Before long, my first Twitterpal arrived in the form of a company that prints coupons for laundry detergent. Thrilled to have a follower at last, I began communicating frenetically through a series of warm, sensitive, and caring Direct Messages (also known as DMs, though I can’t for the life of me fathom why.)  Friendship formed, then love.  I pray our scheduled June wedding is still on, but I can’t confirm it because the coupon company has since unfollowed.

More Twitter friends arrived: foreign folk tweeting in a language composed of letters shaped like medieval implements of torture, Twitter sites featuring no tweets, 8,437 followers, and avatars created for the express purpose of eliciting enough male semen to flood a small city, and dudes who think Barak Obama is not only the agent of Satan but that he's screwing Satan by taking way too high a percentage!

In time, however, I began to obtain honest-to-goodness legit followers based on my perfection of the “Guilt Follow,” which proved so immensely successful at inflicting guilt in me that I have since confessed to virtually every felony ever committed in the city of Philadelphia.

Then one day I had an overpowering urge to blog!  After I drank a quart of Mylanta and pulled my head out of the toilet, I had another overpowering urge, this time to create a web page of my own unedited writings --- which curiously enough is referred to by a word that when spoken aloud makes the same disgusting sound as my earlier overpowering urge!

Go figure!

Perry Block - Nouveau Old, Formerly Cute hit the web in January 2010.  Early postings like The Lint in Your Navel: Friend or Foe? and The Short Lousy Life of Harry Truckman failed to connect with readers, but I later scored mightily with:

1)  Actuaries I Have Loved

2)  So What Do You Feel Like Doing Tonight, Nostradamus?,  in which I postulated that the entire body of Nostradamus’ prophecy foretells with stunning accuracy events in the life of actor Ernest Borgnine, and my masterpiece

3)  Gherkins! Gherkins!! GHERKINS!!!

And then in a stunning moment,  I was nominated for The 2010 Versatile Blogger “Non-Vampiric/Non-Ain’t our Family Wacky?” Catch-all Category Award. Y’ see, folks, virtually every blog on the internet concerns itself with either vampires or the blogger’s unshakable conviction that nothing's more entertaining to total strangers than tales of how the family's delightful third grader got ptomaine from Salisbury Steak served by Helga, the toothless lunch lady.

Since my blog had at no time employed the expressions “blood spouted from every orifice,” “his severed member,” or “wifey now nuzzling me towards bed (*wink*)” my nomination --- along with that of three other misguidedly themed blogs --- was assuredly assured.

Now let’s return to the Eggland's Best Eggs Center and gracious awards presenter Ms. Meryl Streep.

“And the winner of The “Non-Vampiric/Non-Ain’t our Family Wacky?” Catch-all Category Award,"  Ms. Streep uttered into the microphone " is ... is ... is ..... 

"No!  No!  Not THAT!!!  Loser!  Loser!!  I'M A LOSER???!! 

Stamping her feet like Rumplestiltskin when his secret name was outed (and when he was  later outed that second time as well),  Ms. Streep managed to catch hold of herself. 

"Yeah ... OK ... sure," she announced shakily, "the winner is Perry Block for his misguidedly themed blog, Perry Block - Nouveau Old, Formerly Cute.”

I leapt high in the air (what else was I going to leap high into --- a vat of Hellman’s Mayonnaise?), and as Bruno Haldecker expanded like Jabba the Hut across the whole of Seat 87 ZZ, I bounded to the podium. Prying the tarnished pewter statuette from Ms Streep’s rigid and highly resistant hands, I had a sudden impulse.

I kicked her hard in her left shin.

“What was that for?” she thundered!

“That’s for Mamma Mia, you whore!” I shot back.

Then I proceeded to thank everyone I have ever known in life,  which took a full 17 seconds because I prefaced my thanks with a long and boring anecdote.

Well, guess it’s time I advise you that the award-winning experience I’ve just shared has been lightly fictionalized for dramatic purposes.  Namely none of this ridiculous stuff ever happened.  Did I have ya goin'?

I was actually awarded the Versatile Blogger Award (along with a number of great bloggers) by a very cool  and talented writer, Julie Musil, who’s on Twitter at @JulieMusil.  Her blog is Writing and Blogging between Carpools.  

Thank you very much, Julie!

And as my true presenter, thank you also for having absolutely nothing to do with any version --- stage, screen, or otherwise ---- of Mamma Mia!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Versatile Blogger Award comes with a few select and distinguished duties that the recipient must perform.  I will shortly handle them with aplomb and dignity. 

And I promise I won't call anyone else a four letter word name in the doing!