I had a baby pool, I put the baby in and he did laps, I think they were laps. A bit later the water turned yellow. It killed the grass under it. WQe made koolaid with the yellow water, the baby ate them all.
I can't get this image outta my head, of seeing the people of the Town of Glumbert sitting in a saloon, carrying on in a loud, boistrous manner.....and YOU'D be sitting upright at a separate table, slowly sipping a drink, and when there's a lull in the conversation, we all hear one word outta you:
Pools.. cheaper in the long run. latest estimate to raise a kid in the US to the age of 18, $200K Dunno if that includes an estimate that the greenback will be worth about .10 Euros by the time the kid's 10, though.
Yet Another True Life Story From The Files Of Yours Truly That has Nothing Whatsoever To Do With The Video At Hand Simply Because I like To Yap And Gosh Darnit I Love The Company I Keep Around Here:
Today, I came across a personally-autographed 8x10 photo given to me by this man:
Submitted for your Glumbertian perusal...Mr. George Chuvalo.
I had the opportunity to have a long conversation with him and judging by the way I was cracking him up, he didn't really know how to take me; but we got along pretty damn good. Helluva nice guy.
Anyways, we were walking along, talking, and I was bombarding him with questions (for almost an hour, and it zipped by like a blink), and it went something like this:
"George...c'mon...all bullshit aside....Cassius Clay....was he the Real Deal? I mean.....WAS he all THAT.....and a bag of chips? Or was he a creature of media hype at the time? Was he just a punk?" (the fact that I was having a jovial conversation with a man who actually squared off against Muhammed Ali--TWICE--in the ring, blew me away).
He got quite animated when I asked that.
"No!", he said strongly. "A punk? No goddamn way. I'll tell you something about him: He didn't hit that hard. That wasn't his major strength. Nope. It was his friggin' SPEED. Every single time I had that guy pegged for a jab, or a right hook, or a haymaker...it didn't matter; by the time my punch was launched, it was sailing through empty air, where he was standing a half-second ago. Poof. Just like that. Goddamndest thing I ever saw. So, because of that, he was able to land more punches, and co-ordinate his friggin' attack. Y'see?"
And as he's talking, I'm looking at his fingers. Jesus. Even at his present age, they were like thick sausages. In my mind, I just knew that there was still a boxer in this guy, that could seriously ruin someone's day with those meat hooks.
So then I start razzing him a bit about the other stuff he's done.
Like, when he had a small role in the re-make of the movie "The Fly". He had a scene with Jeff Goldblum in that film, where he played the bar thug who arm-wrestles Goldblums character; Goldblums character winds up ripping George's wrist apart.
"So", I says, "what's the story with this Goldbum guy? What was he like to work with, or hang with?"
"Super nice guy", he says. "But...he was one of these real SERIOUS actors, that always walked off to be alone between takes, to 'get into his character', and didn't wanna bugged by no one. But still a nice fella."
So we talked and talked some more, and then he says:
"Sorry, C. Gotta run. Mickey Rourke is in town shooting a flick, and I promised him I'd swing by the set, and go out for a beer."
"Whoa!", I says. "You hang out with that guy, too?"
"Yeah", he replies. "He's a bit of a carouser. But he's got a great sense of humour. We've been good friends for quite a while now."
"George!", I says. "C'mon, dude. How 'bout an autograph? Huh? Like, I promise I'll keep it right next to the one's I got from Jerry Springer and Prime Minister Harper. I swear."
"Oh", he replies. "You sure know how to flatter a guy!"
He laughs and actually pulls a picture out of his car of himself in his hey-day, with gloves and all (I guess he hands out quite a few of them!), and signs it, and gives it to me. Then just before we part company, he asks for my phone number, so we can stay in touch once in a while. Sure, no problemo, I says. He gives me a playful little punch to the gut, and I laugh and say "Take it easy, George! Later!", and he's gone.
I walk away, and the smile on my face melts away fast, and I'm holding my gut......that fucking hurt. Oww.
Can we get him to meet Peanuts?
I watched his fights with Ali, he could take a punch. The guy was/is big.
So any other famous people? I have some good Paul Newman and Merrily Streep stuff if anyone's intrested.
Hey!! Anyone else ever hear a song on the radio that you haven't heard in years... and then it's stuck there all day long??? That's how I am today with a classic rock song by The Youngbloods. "Darkness, Darkness". Anyone else remember it?? It's on You tube---- driving me nuts!!!!!! These are the reasons I buy obscure old albums in CD form for 1 damn song. grrrr!!
Canuck - terrific rememberance. I also followed Cassius Clay/Muhammed Ali, and his exploits.
Abso-freaking-lutely the best boxer (not just heavyweight) the world has ever seen. (Well, a little overboard there...Sugar Ray Leonard would get my boxer vote, I guess).
I recall (dimly) the Chuvalo fights....do I recall correctly?..that Ali did not demean Chuvalo like he did others he fought? Tho' Chuvalo succumed as most all Ali's opponents, he did so valiantly.
Even though Ali won both bouts, he could NOT knock down Chuvalo, with Chuvalo going the distance with him, and Ali winning both bouts on TKO's.
And you're right.....Ali did not disparage Chuvalo like many of his opponents, partly (so the story goes) because I guess Chuvalo had earned a measure of respect from Ali.
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