Top 5 Bill Murray Scenes

Lost In Translation

First off, thoughts and prayers for the Kennedy family and our nation. I have to say, prayers for the Tippit and Oswald families too. They were also victims that weekend. All these Kennedy documentaries and remembrances have a distinct 9/11 feel. I can hardly imagine what a horrific weekend that must have been. The President belonged to all of us. President Kennedy inspired an entire generation to service. His youthful vigor symbolized American energy and enthusiasm in the 1960s. I know his memory will continue to do so.

So naturally its the right day to talk about Bill Murray.

Only Tom Hanks comes to mind as an actor who started off as a limited "one trick pony" but evolved into a truly gifted, versatile performer. Murray doesn't get the same credit though because his comedic gift is so transcendent that it tends to overwhelm his more subtle, dramatic moments. And he simply doesn't work as often.

What the hell is that?

If you don't know Bill Murray, I wonder why you even bother reading what I post. Because we clearly live on different planets. He started on the National Lampoon radio show, along with Dan Aykroyd and Gilda Radner. When passed over for the original "Saturday Night" cast, he spent that season on the competing "Saturday Night Live" on ABC starring Howard Cosell (that's right, look it up, the NBC program was originally entitled "Saturday Night" while the ABC program's title was "Saturday Night Live"). He later replaced Chevy Chase of course, and the rest is history. Only it almost wasn't. The audience inexplicably missed Chase and hated Murray. More proof that nearly every American up past 11:30 during the '70s was a cokehead. Murray famously turned it around on the strength of an inspired "confessional" and the even more inspired lounge singer character. Then the nerds, Weekend Update ("Woodman!"), Walter Cronkite, the drug distributing record produce (Jerry L Dini), Triumph inevitably ensued.

Movie success built upon itself. Meatballs and Where the Buffalo Roam hardly suggested the monumental heights that he would reach. He was offered the Peter Riegert role in Animal House (Boon) but turned it down. Caddyshack was the first major success. As the largely improvised Carl Spackler, Murray created a role for which every man worth knowing has memorized nearly every line. (Put it another way, if you're a man who doesn't have just about every Caddyshack line memorized, I won't waste my time on you). Then came the enormously successful Stripes, followed by a role in Tootsie that kept expanding beyond the script as Murray's skills impressed Dustin Hoffman and director Sydney Pollack. Ghostbusters, of course, really broke him. If you don't remember Murray from SNL or Caddyshack, you remember his as Dr. Peter Venkmann, and lines like "back off man, I'm a scientist," or "he slimed me!" or "its true, this man has no dick."

Groundhog Day

Murray backed off from stardom after that, appearing in some money-making roles such as Groundhog Day or Scrooged, but working in some more meaty performances, like The Razor's Edge, a remake of the old Tyrone Power movie. Basically he slowed down, emphasizing quality over quantity.

Rushmore marked the turn toward more nuanced, complicated roles. Herman Blume represents my favorite Bill Murray performance. A man, not unlike Murray himself, beaten down into resignation despite outwardly appearing very successful, finding meaning and in a way, salvation, in connecting with an incredibly maladjusted, fantasy-living high school student named Max Fischer. Murray is funny, but not uproariously funny. He is serious and somber, without becoming apoplectic as if participating in some mid-town acting school project. His mere glance or shrug or posture conveyed worlds of inner turmoil and emotion. Yet, the character was funny too.

Rushmore

From there, Murray blended funny roles with more serious. More Wes Anderson collaborations followed, in which Murray's characters sometimes blended into the ensemble (The Royal Tennenbaums and Moonrise Kingdom), and sometimes took main billing (The Life Aquatic). He almost won an Oscar for Lost In Translation, where he played another world-weary famous performer, who connects with another young person. I loved that movie, though its not quite as challenging to appear drawn to Scarlett Johansson as to Jason Schwartzmann. Broken Flowers, though underrated, also showcased Murray's burgeoning depth, as a man forced to confront his past as he searches for the woman who may have anonymously notified him that she had borne him a son many years before. Most recently he's won acclaim for portraying Pres. Franklin Roosevelt in Hyde Park on the Hudson. An acting journey that takes one from Carl Spackler to Franklin Roosevelt makes for one hell of a ride.

Its also pretty cool to have been the first guest ever on the David Letterman show. Both the CBS show and the original "Late Night With David Letterman" NBC show. Letterman didn't book Murray as the first guest just because he was a big name. That shows respect.

So here's my Top 5 Bill Murray Scenes:

5. Star Wars. The lounge singer on Saturday Night Live, Nick Winters. In his full glory with the mustache, gold chain, shirt opened to the navel, and Paul Shaffer accompanying him on piano. He would reprise the character several times to great success. That character just skewered every self-aggrandizing, two bit, incompetent performer you've ever seen. And its perfectly Murray-absolutely committed 100% to the joke, pouring every ounce into the premise, working totally without a net.

4. The Dalai Lama. "So I jumped ship in Hong Kong...." Totally improvised. 1:20 of sheer brilliance. As he's poking a pitchfork into his scene partners neck. Now, it was completely insane. Carl Spackler, caddying for the Dalai Lama who was playing golf? In Tibet? OK, sure. Why not? It helped explain the character's full on craziness later in the movie, and provided a nice contrast to when he caddied for the Bishop ("I don't think the heavy stuff's going to come down for some time!"). All in all, inspired. "So I've got THAT going for me. Which is nice."

3. Haircut scene. From Rushmore, and not one of his more well known scenes. Its not even funny. Its just incredibly revealing. After learning that Max's dad is a barber and not a neurosurgeon, in one look, he completes his bond with Max Fischer and completely understands not only Max's life but his own. I love how sometimes, just a look or a gesture can convey so much more meaning than words. Only a truly gifted actor can reveal so much of a character through such a seemingly small but truly profound act. You're not going to see Keanu Reeves do that. Or, really, much of anything except breathe and occupy space and grunt.

2. Are You the Keymaster? The scene that most perfectly showcases Murray's sarcastic, flippant persona. He encounters Sigourney Weaver, made up and semi-dressed, slithering and cooing in the most lascivious way imaginable. Only problem? She's possessed by Zuul, the minion of Gozer. Murray struggles with whether to accept her..."advances," but ultimately reasons "you've got two people in there already. It could get a little crowded." By the way, he tells Egon that he has "whacked her up" with about 300 cc's of Thorazine.  Which he has...why? He goes over to Dana's apartment to pick her up for their first date. I know I always carry certain things with me on all dates. Let's see...money, ID, keys, altoids maybe, a syringe, Thorazine, handkerchief....Hmm, that's totally not creepy. Anyway, its still an incredibly compelling scene. "Bad news honey. I gotta go to work. Will you stay here in bed until I get back?"

1. Cinderella Story. OK, really, its this scene, and then there's everything else. Probably the funniest improvised scene ever filmed. "Tears in his eyes I guess...." The shooting script just said "Carl re-enacts a childhood sports fantasy." Murray had the crew move the row of mums to the set. He nailed it in one take. That's every golf announcer there's ever been. "It looks like a mirac- ITS IN THE HOLE!! ITS IN THE HOLE!!!"

Honorable Mention: This man has no dick. "Human sacrifice! Dogs and cats, living together! Mass hysteria!"

NEXT-we've come to the end. The last Top 5 list. Its supposed to be Top 5 Things in Life That Make It Worth Living. But will it? Tune in and find out!

Top 5 Biggest Douchebags

A-Rod's number one fan

Has anyone seen my sharkskin laptop sleeve?

Can someone get my towel? Its in my room next to my Irish walking cape.

I'm like a sexual snowflake. Each night with me is a unique experience.

Pine has no place in this loft. Its the wood of poor people and outhouses.

Damn it! I can't find my driving moccasins anywhere!

Has anyone seen my good peacoat?

Bathtubs are medieval filth cauldrons.

You're listening to the radio and writing with a pen. What decade are we in?
--quotes from Schmidt, the douchiest character on the New Girl

Well, Formula One weekend has descended, like locusts or Mexican cross-boundary wildfire smoke, upon Austin. Can it be a coincidence that we've arrived at that spot on the Top 5 list where we must contemplate...the douchebag? I think not. Like New York's rats or LA's traffic, the d-bags are well on their way to taking Austin as their prize. Combine money, fashion, and pretentiousness, and you inevitably attract the douchebag like garbage brings flies. That's the Austin events calendar in a nutshell.

What's a "douchebag" exactly? I mean, in the modern parlance. Urban Dictionary defines it as:  "An individual who has an over-inflated sense of self worth, compounded by a low level of intellegence, behaving ridiculously in front of colleagues with no sense of how moronic he appears." The still hilarious web site "Hot Chicks with Douchebags" explains:  "A douchebag is not defined as simply a series of hand gestures, facial expressions, overly gelled hair or a giant Jesus bling around the neck. A douchebag is a state of mind. It is a place where men go to become scrote. Where machismo mixes with testosterone to form a foul cocktail of rank sewage that smells vaguely of cheap cologne." In other words, everyone on the Jersey Shore. Or who lives in Vegas.  I think of it as an umbrella term that encompasses a particular lifestyle, aesthetic, conduct, attitude, and appearance.

Full house

What oh so subtle, tell tale signs mark the douchebag's natural habitat/breeding ground? Helen Keller couldn't miss them (what...too soon?). And, like a 12 car pile up, you can't help but look despite his ghastly appearance. Look for someone reeking with undeserved arrogance. Consumed with preening. Incessantly making largely meaningless hand or arm gestures. Dripping with adornment (you know, "bling"). Axe body spray. Sufficient tattooing to support that "fierce" look. Comically sculpted and processed, multi-level hair, including designer facial hair (numerous varieties of either the Prince Valiant pencil thin beard or seemingly unkempt beard but in reality meticulously trimmed to maintain that "not maintained" look). Ed Hardy clothing or some other "sad to be so skin tight" get up. Like...skinny jeans. "Overtrained" muscles (sometimes lurking under 25% body fat, other times with "I spend eight hours a day training because I can't keep a real job" body definition). Machismo lacking in substance. Sunglasses worn inside. Fake glasses taken from Elton John's Captain Fantastic-era collection.  Backwards or tilted hat wearing (tags still on, obvs). Rejection of responsibility. Self-inflated ego, usually with unrealistic appraisal of individual importance to the rest of society. In the case of quasi-celebrities (hey "Entourage" guys, what up?) this is known as the "do you know who I am" denouement. Intolerance of anyone else drawing attention in their presence. Mall-gotten airbrush tan. Manwaxing. Obliviousness to other people's feelings or welfare or disease history. Using bizarre and shortened versions of words (because entire words require too much effort, hence, doing something "on the regz," or something is "obvs" or you'll "probs" do something). Not tipping. Treating everything they do like its the most profound and serious activity known to man. Spending far more money than the actually have (gotta represent, yo). Consumption of mass quantities of over-priced alcohol at poseur clubs where the "BOOM BOOM BOOM" sound drowns out any conversational possibilities (which is just fine because the D-bag's nod is his "go to" move). Smoking (often "e-cigarettes"). Ye shall know them by their place at the poolside bar. Or at the W Hotel.

Is it the death stare or the tight shirt that the babes must have?

Poolbags

Oh, and, natch, absolutely crawling with STDs. I mean, so far gone the Centers for Disease Control wouldn't touch them. Dr. McCoy couldn't cure what's crawling through these guys.

Can women be douchebags? Interesting question. The answer is "yes." Absolutely. Check the list. Usually its the plastic surgery crowd. Women who have 35 "best girlfriends ever" and who run in packs of at least 10 at a time everywhere they go. Who constantly scan the room everywhere they go, no matter who they're with. Generally found at hot yoga, Starbucks, malls, marginally upscale salons (featuring nail care and "sunless tanning"), Pilates studios, and the hottest club in town. Wearing clothes at least two sizes too small and 15 years too young. Cheap makeup (hiding permanent breakout and clubbing-induced premature aging spots). Cheaper, clashing color nail polish. Fake hair. Or, chemically processed, trash dyed hair. With roots. Botox. Other, uh, obviously fake attributes. Expensive but ill-fitting and poorly maintained shoes. Purse with frayed lining, which goes with nothing they own. But, like their male counterparts, they too over-adorn, possess unreasonable delusions of attractiveness, a "what can you do for me" attitude, and absolute "me first" back stabbing, run over anyone in the way sensibility. Have you not seen Real Housewives?

Now that you know what we're dealing with, the Top 5 almost writes itself.

5. Kanye West. Going full on crazy ass mofo on Taylor Swift at the VMAs. ALL CAPS TWEETING!!! Showing up late or not at all. Bizarre live TV diatribes. Posing as Jesus (complete with douchy crown of thorns) for Rolling Stone. Saying the government invented AIDS to destroy black people. Yelling at the Grammys to stop playing music until he finished his acceptance speech (which, really, is on the Grammys for giving him an award in the first place. Number of Grammys won by Elvis Presley for rock songs...zero-say whaaaaaaat?). Calling himself the voice of his generation. Uh, ok.


You're fired!

4. Donald Trump. The hair, or whatever kind of animal pelt sits on top of his head, obvs. Modelizing. Delusions of grandeur. The voice. The over-the-top-and-back-down-the-other-side lack of taste. Spending other people's money. Trump made his money in real estate by putting together investment trusts rigged such that he'd make most of the profits while his partners would incur most of the losses. Nice. Putting his name on every project. Trump Plaza. Trump Tower. Trump Country Club. Ego, much? You just know this guy has a vast array of man rings. And a butler.

Hanging on

3. Bieber. Everything that is wrong with this country can be summed up in one word: "Bieber." Vanilla Ice thinks this guy is a little bit much. Shirt baring. Pants hanging. Crotch grabbing. Tatting up to deflect otherwise babyish features. Bling bigger than his entire body. Going to the Anne Frank house in Amsterdam and writing in the guest book that she's have been a "Belieber." Showing up at NBA games wearing the home team's gear (nice loyalty). Driving an Audi with cheetah pattern painted on it. Buying a monkey, then abandoning said monkey on a trip (Ross on Friends reeeeeeeeeally hated that). And, appearing in public looking like this. Teenage girls go crazy for this...why? This is why the Chinese own us.

2. Kris Jenner What can you say about a mother who distributes her daughter's sex tape to the media and then uses that to push her daughters into reality show fame? Milking that for all its worth, all the while emasculating her former Olympian second husband (the first one died after divorcing her, and representing OJ Simpson was only the second worst experience of his life) and hogging as much on camera time as the kids, browbeating them all along. Telling her story non-ironically is to mock her. Like when Tina Fey impersonated Sarah Palin by repeating, word for word, her answers in a Katie Couric interview. Kris Jenner reminds me of what Norman Bates' mother must have been like, before, you know (spoiler alert) ending up in a rocking chair.

Chris Brown's Greatest Hits

1. Chris Brown OK, now we all know this 'bag, right? Rihanna's not the most sympathetic person ever, but there's no call for treating her like your personal speedbag. Then mocking her about it after. Sending out homophobic tweets. Blowing up his Good Morning America dressing room (its one thing to do that if you're Keith Moon, but that act is played my man). Threatening valet parking attendants over $10. Starting a pitbull breeding business. Bar fights. Battered woman neck tattoo. Engaging in hit and run. Why the world has any use for this guy eludes me. Chris Brown,  ARE the biggest douche.

NEXT-Top 5 Bill Murray scenes. Finally, something I actually want to write. "Big hitter, the Lama."

Top 5 Worst Jobs

Ahh, I'm also gonna need you to go ahead
and come in Sunday too, kay?

Peter Gibbons: Michael, we don't have a lot of time on this earth! We weren't meant to spend it this way. Human beings were not meant to sit in little cubicles staring at computer screens all day, filling out useless forms and listening to eight different bosses drone on about about mission statements.
Michael Bolton: I told those fudge-packers I liked Michael Bolton's music.
Peter Gibbons: Oh. That is not right, Michael.
--Office Space, 1999

Well, the magazine P.O.V. came out this week, with a list of the best and worst jobs to have in the next century. The three best were, in this order: Multimedia Software Designer, Management Consultant, and Interactive Advertising Executive; while their worst, for the third year in a row: Crack Whore.
--Norm MacDonald, 1997

Man do I miss Norm. I think the following year when the "worst jobs" issue came out, he said "crack whore" had been replaced by "assistant crack whore."

Which is pretty much a given. But what are the other worst jobs?

So what makes a job horrible? Overbearing bosses, criticizing your every move and treating you like a five year old, or having you work all weekend because they couldn't manage the place more efficiently during the week. Asking if you got the memo on the TPS reports. Rude or overbearing co-workers who won't let you have one moment's peace. Uncaring and dehumanizing customers who seem to think they will obtain better service by yelling at you or complaining. Unsafe or unbearable working conditions. Wearing a name tag. Answering to consultants. Constantly having to justify your job and performance of that job. Reporting to unqualified supervisors. Making less than people at other companies who do the same job. Women laugh at you when they find out what you do. Did no one watch Office Space? Its pretty much all there.

Pretty much my summer job working in the un-airconditioned Humble school district warehouse. It was even worse than that. I couldn't drive, so I caught a ride with my parents' friend who worked for the district. During the day I had to ride around with this other guy who thought Christopher Cross was the most amazing performer ever. He insisted on rocking to such hard core tunes as "Sailing," or "Ride Like the Wind." At day's end, I was praying for sweet death. Which thankfully never came or I would never have known most of you. Hey, I was grateful to have a job at all. I think I used my entire earnings to buy speakers and a stereo receiver at Pacific Stereo. All in all, a pretty sound investment for a 16 year old (no pun intended).

In listing the worst jobs, I'm only focusing on American jobs. Even though 2/3 of all American jobs are now on the other side of the International Date Line. There's no point in listing jobs in the Philippines, or some other malaria-infested backwater without worker safety laws. Or really, laws period. Where a third of the population is missing one limb or other "digits." Or works 80 hours a week in dimly lit, no air conditioned factories making Air Jordans for 10 cents a day. Or, even better, spends all day crawling on trash heaps outside Mexico City or Buenos Aires looking for food and clothes. Sidebar-no matter how badly you think the Democrats or Republicans have performed in office, I'd temper the "our country is going down the tubes" talk until you see gigantic open air trash mounds outside major cities with thousands of people crawling over them to sustain themselves.

Or illegal jobs. Like crack whore for example. Or Mafia murder scene trouble shooter (actually, I could see myself being the Wolf). Drug dealer doesn't seem like a good long-term career move. Oh, sure, maybe one out of a thousand might clever his way into some Tony Montana-esque lifestyle. But eventually, competitors decide its easier to kill you than compete with you. Or worse.

The Wolf

I've always had fairly modest job ambitions. Which may account for my present situation in life. Basically I'm content to have any job where I don't have to work outside or wear a name tag. That rules out retail sales and slogging through ditches and pouring coffee at Starbucks. Actually my ideal job would be stocking grocery shelves at night after the store closed. You work inside, don't have to deal with customers, and you can work at your own pace. As a kid, I wanted to be a football player or an astronaut, like everyone else. But I really wanted to drive a TXI cement mixer. We had to pass a TXI facility when we drove to my grandma's house in Galena Park. That seemed totally cool. It actually still does. I also aspired to become a television repairman. I wanted to work at Oaks Television (off Bellaire Boulevard as I recall). I can't remember why exactly. Hey, drive a cement truck or fix TVs. A boy can always dream big, huh? Since then, I can only remember wanting to practice law. Well, not so much practice law as argue with people, which basically is what I do. Imagine getting paid for doing what you do with your family for free. It's pretty sweet. I lack any other employable skills. Basically I could only do two other jobs: play-by-play announcer or game show host. The former pays very little (unless you're the lead network announcer) and the latter has become virtually obsolete. Secret agent would be pretty cool too, but the whole getting shot at for government salary levels kind of takes the swag out of it. So lawyer it is!

BTW, I thought about putting "roughneck" on the list, until I remembered roughnecks make pretty good money, no one abuses them, its a respectable job, and they're in high demand even when drilling goes down somewhat. So, not roughneck. 

Deckhands

5. Deckhand. Most of you don't know this, but I went to deckhand school at a marine towing company, Hollywood Marine, when I began my first attorney job in New Orleans. My firm represented Hollywood Marine, and sent all new lawyers there to learn a little bit about life on a boat. I think I was the only guy there who hadn't gotten out of prison within the last six months. They loved having me there. My firm handled a lot of Jones Act (personal injury on maritime waters) lawsuits, so we all needed some idea what these people did. I learned about tying off barges, handling cargo, working with liquid hoses, and basic safety principles. It...sucked. You had to cover all exposed skin, whether it was freezing or burning hot outside. You have no shade because you're out on deck all day. You must quickly tie off heavy barges using heavy steel cables. You must work two week tours, on the job 12 hours and on call the other 12 hours. And you're often exposed to some of the most noxious and deadly chemicals imaginable. But I guess you don't have to wear a name tag. Which is something. Oh, wait, you do, sewn on all your shirts.

4. Roofer. Standing on an uneven surface two or more stories off the ground. Check. Using dangerous tools. Check. Frying in the sun reflected off the roof? Check. Getting skin cancer from years of sun exposure? Check. Yep. Sounds like a dream job.

3. Farmer. I know, I know. Farming made this country great. Farming evokes myth, Americana,

Do the chickens have large talons?

images of clean cut kids by the fire after doing their chores. Riding in a surrey with a fringe on top to the hoedown. Ropin' and a ridin'. Well you go ahead and cling to that image because modern farming has nothing to do with that. Farming is the most dangerous occupation in America. By far. Pesticide exposure. Heavy equipment accidents. Animal diseases. "Runoff."  Not to mention that unless you're some giant enormous corporation, the classic American family farmer simply can't make money over the long haul. Food prices are too low; investment costs are too high. Did no one see Field of Dreams? Ray had to turn the farm into a baseball field to stave off bankruptcy. And you have to work before sunrise to after sunset for long stretches of the year. Rain or snow, hot or cold.

¿Que?

2. Waiter. Or as I like to call it, "actor." What's the old joke? New York has 100,000 actors and not a single waiter? Unless you're working at a very upscale restaurant (and sometimes even then), waiting tables amounts to day after day of humiliation, disrespect, stress, and physical burden. Waiters don't really make a salary. They get a paycheck for below minimum wage and often don't get any insurance or other benefits. They rely on tips, and from what I know, most people tip only a pittance. Just about everyone dumps on waiters. Ordering food at a restaurant represents many people's only chance to give another human being instructions. So a lot of people abuse it, of course. Barking at waiters, undertipping them, complaining about the service. The waiter only fronts for an entire team, of course. Busboys, bartenders, dishwashers, cooks, prep, buyers, food deliverers, managers. But customers only interact with waiters, so they give waiters all the blame for anything that goes wrong. Trust me, your waiter didn't put lipstick on your glass, or tell the busboy to use a glass with lipstick on it. And your waiter didn't ask to serve 25 tables at 7:00 p.m. If you want instantaneous service at all times, where the waiters telepathically know when its time to refill your water or if your foie gras is overly insouciant, I recommend you dine at French Laundry. And pay for the resulting service level. Otherwise, get off the waiter.

You talkin' to me?

1. Taxi Driver. Yeah that movie was no lie. Imagine having to sit in an uncomfortable chair, every day or night. Drive all around town and risk being in a wreck every minute. Or spending hours in a line at the airport or a hotel. Paying for your own cab. Then sitting in a cab with God only knows who. Worrying about who'll be the one that attacks you, or doesn't pay you, or tries to make you become a Mormon, or smells like they just left a rendering plant, or insists on talking your ear off about whatever boring subject is on their mind. You have to drive all over town, good areas and bad. The scum of the earth gets in your cab along with high society. "Taxi" may have been a fun TV show, but its not the reality. But I guess you do get to wear whatever you want (feel free to haul out that Members Only jacket) and act like a psycho, so maybe its not all bad. Maybe you could meet Jodie Foster.

NEXT--Top 5 Biggest Douchebags. Oh, yay. Another positive post. Look out Bieber.

Top 5 Ways That I Judge People

Judging

"Judge not, lest ye be judged. For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you."
--Matthew, Ch. 7, v. 1-2.

Elvis is in everybody out there.
Everybody's got Elvis in them!
Everybody except one person that is...
Yeah, one person!
The evil opposite of Elvis.
The Anti-Elvis
Anti-Elvis got no Elvis in 'em,
lemme tell ya.

Michael J. Fox has no Elvis in him.

--Mojo Nixon, "Elvis Is Everywhere"

I think the next Top 5 (Geez, will this ever end?) topic involved top 5 things that annoy me. Aside from being a drag, man (for some reason, I talk like Sammy Davis, Jr., true story), I'm not sure how to limit my list to just five. The complete "annoys me" list resembles the phone book (kids, there used to be these big huge books that had everyone's phone numbers listed alphabetically, oh never mind). I'm either easily annoyed, or life has gotten more annoying. Probs both. But really, how would that discussion help any of you? Which is what I'm here for. Plus, I can't think of a way that it wouldn't sound like an Andy Rooney piece. "You know what bugs me? Absentee voting. Why can't everyone vote on Election Day like they're supposed to?"

So I'm invoking Executive Privilege to change topics. To something way happier. Top 5 Ways that I Judge People. Yeah, I know, "judge not..." Whatevs. I judge. So do you. So does everyone. We all judge. That is, we all form opinions and beliefs about other people. "You can't trust him." "He's classless." "That guy's smart." "She's conceited." Right? You don't necessarily even form these opinions to condemn someone, you just get to know another person and can't help but assign them a "personality profile," E-Harmony style. We can't all hang out with all the other people in the world all the time. We have to limit those with whom we associate. With whom we do business. Whom we admit into in the Circle of Trust.

Because, you know, if you absolutely do not judge anyone, you'll hang around with drug dealers and child molesters and Senators. Real mother stabbers and father rapers. Then people will assume you're part of that element. Or some of the father stabbers will go after you. Or turn you into a father stabber. I know, this is making no sense. Suffice to say, we can evaluate people and decide whom to spend our precious time and reputation on, without necessarily condemning them with judgment.

Yeah, nice spin!

The Bible says not to judge others because ultimately you will be judged, by the same standards you use to judge others. If you do decide to judge others, you better watch how you do it. Your standards will come back to haunt. But in my case, that's totally alright. I'm perfectly willing to live by the standards I use to "judge" (a/k/a "evaluate") others. Now, I'm leaving out the more obvious ways I judge people, like whether they tell the truth, whether they're intelligent, or kind, or loyal. I have some other ways I size up the other humans, which aren't so obvious. To wit....

The Top 5 Ways That I Judge People:

Steve Sax

5. How you throw a ball. Have you ever grimaced in agony as someone, especially a guy, takes hold of a baseball or football, and instead of raring back and throwing, does one of those Raggedy Ann, limp-arm, half shot put toss and half fly swat arm motions? You know. Steve Sax. Its horrible. I see that happen, and whether a man or a woman, I instinctively cringe. Look, everyone should be able to throw a ball. Here's the list of people who legitimately can't: quadriplegics, double arm amputees, people receiving chemo, and Alzheimer's or ALS victims. Everyone else should be able to pull off that rudimentary motion. Especially all Americans, who should all manage to perform the most basic motion in our national game(s). If you can't throw a ball through the air without looking like Bieber protecting his girlish purity against  Jenny McCarthy's wanton advances, then I have absolutely no use for you.

She's a beaut, Clark

4. Your car. You are who you roll with, and you are what you drive. If you drive a '69 Vette, you're a different kind of person that someone who drives a Chrysler mini-van. One of those cars says "Baller," while the other says "Loser." I covered this in Top 5 Cars. If you voluntarily drive some ridiculous, dowdy, Genericmobile, you deserve scorn, not praise for being practical or fuel-efficient. I once rented a car at the San Francisco airport, but the rental place had only one car left on the lot: a purple Ford Probe. A Probe would have been bad enough, but purple? I looked like I was driving an eggplant in that year's Pride Parade. Which, exactly, I looked like that. Because I was driving that car. I pulled up to a busy crosswalk in the city and two exceptionally attractive young women looked at my car and started laughing as they pointed at it. NOT a Baller moment. Which I've more than made up for since then. Signed, drives an M3. Obvs. But still. Leave your Yugo in the garage and take the bus, dude. Ride in style or stay home.

Elvis in 1970, Houston Astrodome

3. Do you have any Elvis? OK, look, how did the King live his life? Carefree, that's how. Having fun. Taking Care of Business. Finding some calm and joy in every situation. Breaking into song right before the big car race. Keeping Mary Tyler Moore from becoming a nun. Organizing a prison dance-off. Being the first rocker ever to get the band back together and go unplugged. Going through life with a twinkle in his eye. Lovin' the ladies. Driving big Caddies and giving them away to unsuspecting admirers. Inventing Rockabilly. Saving Vegas from bankruptcy. Selling out six shows at the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo, at the Astrodome.  Everyone should have at least a little Elvis in them.  Otherwise, you lack any flair. Any spark. Any style. You just line up every day for drear and drudge and dull. You can't find at least a little flavor in what otherwise could be a miserable existence. Who needs you? Life's already enough of a slog through the marsh without these automatons making things more miserable. 

2. Are you curious? Have you ever met anyone with no opinions on anything? Who does the same thing, every day, over and over and over and over...and over? Who hasn't read a new book since high school? Doesn't know who's the Secretary of State? Hasn't been more than 200 miles from home in 10 years (except maybe for work, where they just stayed at the Days Inn and ate at Denny's and Olive Garden)? Takes the exact same vacation every year (a week at the Sundowner Guest Suites at Galveston-days at the beach, nights at whatever restaurant has coupons). Yeah, and won't go to any restaurant that's not a chain, because, they might not like it? Has never watched public TV (except for Sesame Street).  And yet, these door stops seem to know every disgusting little detail about the Kardashians. You, and your Bed, Bath, and Beyond/Chili's lifestyle can keep on going down the road (the freeway, natch, you would never go the scenic route), because our paths ain't gonna cross anytime soon. Except by accident.

Bum Phillips, Luv Ya Blue rally, 1980

1. Do you follow or play sports? And not soccer or cricket or hurling or gymnastics. A real sport. Kenny Powers once said, "I play real sports. I'm not trying to be the best at exercising." The ancient Greeks (not their euro killing, bloated entitlement state having, tax avoiding decendents) celebrated sport as representing an idealized version of man. Athletes commanded respect and admiration, and the games were held to honor the gods. Sports were thought a mark of their advanced society, distinguishing them from more savage cultures. Yeah, I know, they didn't have xBox or home theaters or Guinness Stout or Camaros or any of the other cool stuff we have today that's not sports. But we still have competition. And we still have bodies that move through space. Sports teach invaluable life lessons. Sports display "the competitive urge at its finest." Sports provide supreme drama. Sports showcase unimaginable athletic feats. And sports can forge connections between huge communities. Among a university, a city, a state, even a country. "Raider Nation." "Titletown." "Death Valley." Chants of "USA! USA! USA!" or "TEXAS!! FIGHT!!" or even that ridiculous "WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO PIG SOOEY!!!" Sports break down class and cultural barriers. Janitors and CEOs alike can connect by talking about the local team's pennant chase or upcoming playoff game. Arguably the single most memorable event in Houston history was the second "Luv Ya Blue" rally at the Astrodome, attended live by 70,000 fans and seen on TV by just about every other Houstonian. The '70s Oilers brought that city together. Unlike life, sports has clear cut winners and losers (I object to soccer in large part because games can end in zero to zero ties; its not really a game if no one scores, and because they flop), merit always prevails over every other attribute, and sports provide an opportunity to pit your best directly against someone else's. No muddled, waiting for someone to get back to me about a deal issues here. How anyone can go through life oblivious to great games, to intense competition, to the grace, strength, and beauty of athletic performance, and to your community's rallying cry, completely escapes me. That's not someone I care to know.

Honorable Mention. I won't trust a man who doesn't like Patsy Cline.

NEXT-Top 5 Worst Jobs. Don't worry, we're almost done with Top 5's. Although I don't know what will take its place. 

Top 5 People I'd Like To Meet

Hammerin' Hank

The Most Interesting Man In the World:

His shirts never wrinkle
Cuba imports cigars from him. 
Mosquitos refuse to bite him purely out of respect.
In museums, he is allowed to touch the art.
His passport requires no photograph.

When he drives a new car off the lot, it increases in value.

Superman has pajamas with his logo

If opportunity knocks and he's not home, opportunity waits

 

Now, readers, I want you to prepare yourself. Because I have to convey something shocking here to you. You probably don't know this, but I'm, well...umm...I'm not exactly all that great at, uh, meeting people.

Its ok, its ok. I'll wait so you can absorb that knowledge and compose yourself.

But its true. I'm not all that predisposed, and apparently am ill-equipped, to meeting people. In fact, given the choice between going to a party and doing anything else in the world, anything else in the world generally would win out. I'm talking Disney on Ice here, people. Which is odd, because once I get to the party or other event, I generally do ok, and often enjoy myself. But this social antipathy is just as well. Within the last couple of years, a friend informed me that I'm socially awkward and inept, I make people generally ill at ease around me, and I often anger others. To which I replied, "have you not met me?"

So the whole concept of meeting someone at all, much less someone famous, kind of leaves me hanging. On top of this, the general admonition not to meet your heroes also keeps me out of the stalker column. Celebrities or other famous types carefully cultivate a public image. They hire media consultants, press agents, and the like specifically to make them more appealing, thereby enhancing their "brand" and marketability. Its more difficult in the TMZ era, with paparazzi, and everyone possessing camera phones capable of videoing your every move (signed Prince Harry's Vegas Vacation). But even today, we have no idea what these people are really like. Unless you wind up in the courts or under arrest, how would anyone know if a Disney star is really a creep? Oh, right. Because they're a Disney star, that's how. You meet someone you've idolized for years, then you find out they're horrible. What a huge letdown. How would you have liked to have been a Joan Crawford fan, only to find out, well, you know. Or have idolized Bing Crosby? How many times have you heard some story about a star with a generally positive image being horrible in private? So in addition to the whole having to meet someone issue, there's the issue of your hero totally blowing their image.

Its easy to fall for the image. You see the star up on the screen or on TV and you want to believe they're like the characters they portray or the image they project. You forget that, just like yourself, they try to put their best put forward when out in public. You only see their best side, not the cranky side pissed because their flight was late, or their agent screwed up some contract, or there were brown M&Ms in the candy jar. You don't see them when they haven't slept in 24 hours, or just got some bad news, or when they have a sick kid. You know, under stress. Are you always at your finest, every single moment of the day? No one person is ever totally good, just as no one is ever totally and completely bad. I'm sure Stalin could be totally charming at dinner parties. He'd just as likely have the NKVD haul you off to Siberia after coffee and desert, but he could seem relatively normal over the borcht and stroganov. Just like I'm sure Mother Theresa could probably be a little bitchy late at night after about a thousand poor people cried and moaned around her all day. Again, for like the millionth day in a row. In between, the rest of us have good moments and bad, and someone's entire opinion of us might turn on when they had their first impression of us.

Or stars are all just whack jobs. Which is probably also true.

But I would like to meet a handful of people. More deceased ones than those still with us. I'd have loved to have met Elvis, for example. Or Richard Nixon or Ronald Reagan. I'd have liked to have met Cary Grant, like my friend Kendall Morgan did. Gene Kelly would have been another. Or Audrey Hepburn. I'd have liked to have met one of the original Mercury astronauts. And I'd have liked to have met John Lennon.

I haven't met many famous people. Probably the most famous was Gene Cernan, the last man to walk on the moon. He was buddies with this lawyer who I tried a case with once. I met him at our client's Christmas party in Boerne. Pretty cool guy. Other than him, that's about it. I think I shook hands with Ann Richards once, but I'm not sure. Oh, I met and shook hands with Rudolph Giuliani, after a speech he gave at the River Oaks Country Club. I've seen several other famous people whom I didn't actually meet. All in all, none of these encounters have really done much for me. Although I like to think they all remember the time they met Chris Reeder....

Time has narrowed the list of potential meeting opportunities. Believe it or not, I don't have much desire to meet any of the new "stars"; I'll have to pass through this world having never met Lauren Conrad or Robert Pattinson, for example. I really had trouble completing this list. But I'd say that, notwithstanding the risk of finding these people are really just, um, assholes, I'd still like to meet them.

Top 5 People I'd Like to Meet:

5. Jennifer Love Hewitt. Because of course I do. Does that surprise anyone? Again, do you know me?

4. Any U.S. President. Current or former. I'd really enjoy talking to them about what its like to be the "most powerful man in the world." I'd like to find out what it's like living inside the bubble of the Presidency. Can you imagine the isolation of not being able to drive a car, or go to the store, or walk down the street by yourself for four or even eight years? I'd like to find out how they cope with the responsibility for deciding when to hit the red button, as it were. Mostly I'd just like to see what such heights of power does to a person. If I could pick one living President to meet, it would probably be Clinton. Not so much because I supported his policies, but he just seems like the one most likely to be forthcoming. Followed by Bush 43.

3. Any Beatle. I guess there's not many to choose from these days. The 1960s were likely the most turbulent, innovative, fluid, free, and wrenching decade that likely will occur in my lifetime. And the Beatles were at Ground Zero of the 1960s. Arguably, the 1960s, and all the cultural evolution since then, would have been strikingly different without them. They've given lots of interviews about those times, and in later years have seemed astonishingly open about them as time fades, grudges ease, and social norms continue to evolve. I just think it would be fun to hear stories about those times first hand, and to get their opinions on a number of subjects. Like what they think about how music has evolved, how they've coped with fame, and what they may have done differently. Hopefully it wouldn't be like the Chris Farley Show with Paul McCartney: "Remember when you were in the Beatles....?"

2. Henry Kissinger. THAT guy knew what real power was and how to use it. National Security Advisor, then Secretary of State to Richard Nixon and Gerald Ford. He was the point man on Vietnam, the 1973 Arab-Israeli War, détente, the opening to China, the Chilean intervention, the India-Pakistan conflict, on and on. And we could talk about Nixon. Plus, I like how he speaks.

1. Henry Aaron. It might have been Muhammad Ali, but I think the conversation with Aaron would go better. One of the greatest baseball players of all time or on the short list. And played during baseball's 1950s and 60s heyday. Knew the absolute pinnacle of athleticism and competition, yet experienced prejudice and overcame significant obstacles. Played in the Negro Leagues and yet later became a long-time Major League All-Star. Five tool guy, but despite the publicity his home run chase brought him, he never really received the respect for his all around baseball talent and achievement. Unbridled enthusiasm for the game despite having experienced some of the most vile hatred imaginable. In interviews, Aaron has expressed some really keen and provoking insights into sports and society in general. And I want to find out what he thought when those longhairs ran out on the infield as he was rounding second as he hit home run 715. And I could ask him about his Milwaukee teammate, Bob Uecker.

NEXT-Top 5 Things or People That Annoy Me. Oh, great. That should be uplifting.

Top 5 Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory Characters

Voyage of the Damned through Chocolate

“We are the music makers...and we are the dreamers of dreams..."

--Willy Wonka

Most of you probably think of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory and as a sweet, light-hearted and uplifting fantasy tale about a child’s wishes coming true, and about the love of family triumphing over crass materialism. I see it as a child’s version of Voyage of the Damned.

So in listing the Top 5 Willy Wonka characters, my list probably deviates radically from yours or anyone else’s (if they put in the longer than five seconds it takes to come up with such a list; most people don’t because they have actual lives involving something other than listing the top five characters from 40 year old movies, startling as that may be). I’ll assume of course that you’ve seen the movie. If not, I can’t really think of any polite way to ask this…what the hell is wrong with you? You probably haven’t seen A Charlie Brown Christmas either. Or ET. Or a Super Bowl. Or know who is the President (hint, its not Nixon). Please crawl out of your xBox and watch a classic.

Anyway, I know everyone thinks this is such a delightful movie, but I can only see a parade of horrors and atrocities rivaling a Brezhnev-era Soviet gulag.

Captive Workers

Shall we start with that human trafficking slave labor factory calling itself “Wonka Chocolate”? Wonka abducted the Oompa Loompas, snuck them past international immigration authorities no doubt using forged and stolen identification documents, and now refuses to let them leave the factory or receive any family or friends as visitors. Oh, sure, he said their land was “war-torn,” and that Vermicious Knids, Whangdoodles, Hornswogglers, and Snozzwangers constantly attacked them, but that doesn’t excuse human trafficking. Working hours appear to last well beyond internationally accepted norms, and the Oompa Loompas receive no visible pay. Unless you consider singing company-praising work songs as “pay.” Wonka forces them to don ridiculous costumes and spend excessive hours in tanning beds.

Beyond just their status and conditions, Wonka forces the Oompa Loompas to work with unsafe and hazardous machinery, with no warnings and inadequate medical care. Experimental foods that risk physical explosion. Chocolate rivers running through high density work areas with inadequate railing or lifesaving equipment nearby. TV transmission devices that irreversibly shrink people (in the Oompa Loompas’ case, they can’t stand much shrinking). Fizzy lifting gas that risks the drinker falling into whirring blades. And as Wonka refuses to allow and/or has managed to thwart any regulatory agency from inspecting the premises, or any Oompa Loompa from leaving the factory to file a worker’s compensation claim, they lack any recourse when injured.

Child Abduction Victims

Then we come to Wonka’s unexplained fascination with using chocolate to lure little children to his factory. This over-40 year old man devises a contest to have a small group of children, with their easily distracted parents, spend an entire day prowling through his factory. Which as we’ve established lies outside any law enforcement monitoring or control? Then when they arrive, they’re exposed to the aforementioned dangerous conditions, only worse, because as children they’re naturally vulnerable to such “attractive nuisances.”  Wonka carefully obtains legal releases before the tour (using such indecipherable print that most modern Western judicial systems would refuse to enforce such waivers), then provides no or insufficient warnings, employs no safety measures or preliminary “be careful on your tour today” instructions, and fails to have adequate medical care standing by in case of accidents. He sings creepy stalker songs and alters speed, sound, and light to distract the tour group, rendering it more susceptible to the factory’s dangers. Little wonder every child eventually suffers some significant physical danger. Then, having promised to give each one a lifetime supply of chocolate, he surreptitiously sends his assistant to play Slugworth, to induce the kids to breach their agreements. The agreements which, as I mentioned before, likely would not stand up in court in the first place. But a court would enforce them when one party induced the other to breach by misrepresentation and fraud. Like Wonka.

Then there’s this Charlie Bucket kid. Possibly the most selfish and spoiled kid in children’s cinema. He has four bedridden grandparents, all living in his parents’ house. They live in destitution. Yet, when he gets a little change in his pocket, what does he do? Contribute to the family’s care? No. He goes out and buys candy. Selfish little jerk. Don’t tell me that his grandpa talks him into it. True character doesn’t sway from evil persuasion. Then he gets his invalid grandpa to leave his sick bed and take Charlie to the factory. All that walking, despite the fact that grandpa has spent most of the last few years in bed. Can you believe this kid? Then, at the factory, despite being specifically told not to drink the Fizzy Lifting Drinks, he does it anyway, thereby demonstrating contempt for rules or anything else standing in his way.

The end makes no sense. First of all, a flying elevator? What, he didn’t have any carpets he could fly around town? What did it use for propulsion, for lift? And how did it land? Why would anyone build a chocolate factory with a flying glass elevator? Then Wonka just hands over his factory to Charlie? No director’s and officer’s liability or premises insurance company, or surety bond company, would cover Charlie. As a minor, he would not be eligible to sign regulatory filings or vendor and distributor contracts. And in installing Charlie as factory owner, Wonka has set him up as the Oompa Loompas’ new slave master, responsible for their physical welfare even though he showed no inclination to help even his own family members.

So I see Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory very differently than most other people. Which leads me to a possibly surprising Top 5 list.

Top 5 Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory Characters:

5.Grandpa Joe. The grandpa spends the whole movie looking out for and promoting Charlie, which is a damn sight more than Charlie ever did for him. The grandpa, though physically impaired, sacrificed to take Charlie on the tour when his parents bailed on him. By the way, did Charlie actually have parents? Because they were never around if so.

4. Slugworth. Though a Wonka flunky, he masterfully and cleverly schemed and persuaded those kids and their greedy parents to take a gobstopper, and thereby void their contracts. Though he plays the rival spy as a sinister, shadowy type, he reveals himself at the end as a jovial, happy sort, albeit in Wonka’s service (and Charlie’s at the end, presumably).

Veruca Salt

3. Veruca Salt. Wow, just some all-time materialistic crazy, in the Britney/Paris mold. But though she steamrolls everyone around her, you have to admire her take charge attitude, certainty of purpose, and single-minded determination. No pretense here, just the doggest pursuit of what’s best for ME. And she has the best line of the movie: “Whoever heard of a snozzberry?” Veruca probably went on to hold a position in the Thatcher Cabinet.

Violet Beauregarde

2. Violet Beauregarde. This girl ate the complete meal candy, and wound up swollen up like a blueberry. Or became a blueberry. I wasn’t exactly sure. Selfish, ok maybe, but what kid could resist a candy that contained an entire meal. Violet demonstrated adventurousness, courage, and resourcefulness. Though a little alarmed at becoming three times her normal size, she didn’t panic, and probably enjoyed all the delicious blueberry cobbler pressed from her. Violet, once drained, probably became Martha Stewart.

1. Mike Teavee. Now this kid was the one who knew everything about television, wanted to be on television, and was ready when his break came. He got on television by God. How could he have possibly foreseen that Wonka couldn’t reverse the shrinking process? Assuming he did regain his size, he probably became Ryan Seacrest.

NEXT-Top 5 People I’d Like to Meet. Hint: no one named Kardashian.

Great Moments In Writing: The Giants-Vikings Monday Night Football Game

Gotta interrupt the Top 5's momentarily. I know. Its disappointing isn't it?

Many of you may remember this series. I was going to highlight great writing examples. I posted about one or two, then trailed off. Not because I forgot. Mainly because I couldn't find any good writing. Most of what I read these days makes the Showgirls script seem like To Kill A Mockingbird

Nowhere does that hold more true than with sportswriting. Anyone still willing to become a print journalist these days goes into news, commentary, or exposes college football recruiting violations for Yahoo Sports. The reporters who cover games? They're more concerned with finding the best buffets, scoring free rounds of golf, and preserving their access to coaches and players than with writing anything remotely interesting.

Take tonight's Monday Night Football game between the Giants and Vikings. It was...simply awful. I think it broke my DVR. ESPN 2's Tuesday night MAAC showdowns think this game was horrific. The Rice Owls play more exciting football than this crapitude. The normal sportswriter would probably pound out something like "the Giants' defense, which has allowed an unusually high amount of passing this season, frustrated Josh Freeman's Vikings debut."

Oh, sorry. I think I fell asleep just writing that.

These guys don't want to alienate players or coaches by saying negative things, so they mostly write a bunch of vanilla sentences as boring as a Microsoft FAQ page.

Not Steve Politi's story for the New Jersey Star-Ledger. Entitled "Giants-Vikings Is Better Off Forgotten-The Sooner The Better," for once a sportswriter has actually written something interesting about a game. And accurate. The first sentence follows the old reporting admonition to sum up the entire story in the first sentence: "I have witnessed the worst game in the history of professional football." That's pretty much the most precise description of anything I've ever read. The remainder pretty much goes from there. But really, when Peyton Hillis is a game's feature back, there's not much else you can do with that, is there? Conway, Arkansas, yall....

This story is what Howard Cosell would call "telling it like it is."

I don't want to spoil the rest so I'll just shut it down here. Go read the story!

We'll pick up the Top 5's soon. Very soon....