The ‘Heidi’ game and more

Ah, the Golden Globes.

Missed ’em again.

Was I supposed to watch them? Actually, I’m with Nate Davis on this. He writes the “32 Things We Learned …” column on the NFL for USA Today and he had this to say after wild card weekend:

“Did anyone else want the Eagles-Bears game to go into overtime (maybe double OT) just to see how NBC would handle its Golden Globes coverage, which began minutes after Al Michaels and Cris Collinsworth wrapped?”

Yes. That I would have liked. It could have been The Heidi Game all over. You remember the Heidi game. Jets-Raiders, Jets ahead, seconds left, Raiders are. …

Well, this from Wikipedia:

“The Heidi Game or Heidi Bowl was an American Football League (AFL) game played on Nov. 17, 1968, between the Oakland Raiders and the visiting New York Jets. The game was notable for its exciting finish, in which Oakland scored two touchdowns in the final minute to win the game 43-32, but got its name for a decision by the game’s television broadcaster, NBC, to break away from its coverage of the game on the East Coast to broadcast the television film Heidi, causing many viewers to miss the Raiders’ comeback.”

And to light up NBC’s phone lines. I was OK with it, though, because I was in my ’66 Mustang in North Bergen, New Jersey, working that night for The Hudson Dispatch and listening to the game on the radio.

So, not working.

• I know you read Dilbert but just in case you missed this particular strip:

DILBERT (to his boss): I’ve created the first artificial intelligence that is as smart as a human being. The breakthrough came when I replaced its logic code with conspiracy theories, lies, emotional outbursts, and overconfidence.

Remind you of anyone? A group of anyones?

And a few days later, Dilbert explained his new invention thusly when asked if he was worried that his A.I. invention would take over the world:

DILBERT: No, I modeled it after human intelligence so it won’t be smart enough.

A.I. CREATURE (sort of responding): Buwhahahaha! I will buy lottery tickets and use my winnings to take over the world.

Wow, it really is human.

• Our Christmas tree is still up and decorated in the living room. We put it up two weeks before Christmas after getting it at a cut-your-own place where they let you pick it out and then they cut it for you. Insurance? Probably.

But it is incredibly fresh. Needles are not dropping off it. I do have to replenish the water a lot but not because of the tree – because of the cat. She has fresh water in her bowl but, no, she likes to drink the tree water. Ugh. Really, I hate the cat.

But there’s no more Christmas music, I’m happy to say. Once, a station from Australia played “Oh, Tanenbaum,” and I kept waiting to hear Alan Sherman’s voice. Remember “My Son the Folksinger”?

“Sara Jackman, Sara Jackman, how’s by you? How’s by you?”

No? Early ’60s. Huge seller.

With “Oh, Tannenbaum,” I kept waiting for Sherman, to wit:

“Oh, Tannenbaum, oh, Tannenbaum, how’s your sister Doris?

“Oh, Tannenbaum, oh, Tannebaum, and your brother Morris?

“I saw your mother at the store.

“She told me you were down the shore.

“Oh, Tannenbaum, oh, Tannenbaum, do you still like Chuck Norris?”

• Remember Marty Kelley? Author of children’s books? Born in Manchester, lived around here, taught second grade around here somewhere and now lives in New Boston? Yeah. Him. Anyway, the other day my friend Wendy showed me a video of Kelley goofing on some scammer who called him about his credit card debt and offering to do something about it and asking Kelley for his credit card numbers and Kelley just kept putting him on, asking him to repeat himself, until the scammer finally figured out he was being had and went off on Kelley.

It was weird because Kelley posted this and the scammer was absolutely screaming and using every four-letter word in the book and I couldn’t figure out why he was wasting his time instead of making other scam calls and then it hit me:

The scammer was ashamed of his job, to wit, trying to scam people like Marty Kelley. What else could it be? After all, he should be ashamed. What if somebody scammed his mother? How would he feel?

I wonder if, after screaming invectives at Kelley, the scammer just up and quit and went into a monastary? It would be for the best.

• The other day I was watching the 1933 film “Baby Face” with Barbara Stanwyck, the pre-release film, not the one that actually made it into theaters and it’s no wonder. Oy, was she naughty. She even seduced John Wayne.

Yes, Barbara, as Lily, used sex to make her way in the world.

She hadn’t really thought to do that, although her father – who, fortunately, got snuffed out of the movie when his still blew up and Barbara hated him anyway – pushed her toward a variety of men who could do him some good with his illegal after-hours club – until Cragg, played by Alphonse Ethier suggested it rather strongly.

Cragg was actually a nice guy who tried to get Lily to read Nietzsche but that didn’t really work out. But after Lily’s dad went kaboom, Cragg discussed her options with her and chastized her a bit harshly after she said: What chance has a woman got?

CRAGG: More than men. A woman young and beautiful like you can get anything she wants in the world because you have power over men. But you must use them, not let them use you. You must be the master, not a slave.

LILY (pondering this for a moment): Yeah.

Then she’s off to the big city. Oh, Lily, Lily, what will become of you? That’s one way to look at it. The other is:

You go, Lily.

And, of course, the movie reminded me of Velvet Underground’s “Femme Fatale,” lead sung by Nico:

“Everybody knows the things she does to please;

“She’s just a little tease …

“Little boy, she’s from the street;

“Before you start you’re already beat.

“She’s gonna smile to make you frown.

“What a clown.”

I love that song. That and “Candy Says” and the live version of “Waiting for my Man” with Lou Reed in Paris are incredible.

The songs you can hear on YouTube but do find “Baby Face.” Stanwyck was great, and only better in “Double Indemnity.” And evil.

• Ah, I’ve told you about my mammoth guilt complex what with being brought up Catholic and having so many Jewish friends. But there’s more.

My wife has been reading Sy Montgomery’s “The Soul of An Octopus” and occasionally reads excerpts to me and it turns out octopuses (that’s the proper plural, not octopi) are really smart and kind of nice and …

Now I feel really guilty about that octopus tentacle I ate in Lisbon, and it wasn’t even all that great. A bit chewy. Oh, I could argue (rationalize?) that the octopus was already dead but … Yeah, guilty.

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