It's Halftime in America.

No dogs. No monkeys. No babes. No babies. No stud muffins.  Just amazing words. Thank you, Weiden & Kennedy. Thank you, Clint Eastwood. Thank you, Chrysler. Thank you for the quiet roar of your words:

"It's Halftime. Both teams are in their locker rooms discussing what they can do to win this game in the second half. It's halftime in America, too. People are out of work and they're hurting. And they're all wondering what they're gonna do to make a comeback. And we're all scared because this isn't a game. The people in Detroit know a little something about this. They almost lost everything. But we all pulled together. Now Motor City is fighting again. I've seen a lot of tough eras, a lot of downturns in my life. Times when we didn't understand each other. It seems that we've lost our heart at times. The fog of division, discord and blame made it hard to see what lies ahead. But after those trials we all rallied around what was right and acted as one. Because that's what we do. We find our way through tough times, and if we can't find one we'll make one. All that matters now is what's ahead. How do we come from behind? How do we come together? And how do we win? Detroit's showing it can be done. And what's true about them is true about all of us. This country can't be knocked out with one punch. We get right back up again, and when we do, the world is gonna hear roar of our engines. Yeah, it's halftime, America. And our second half's about to begin."



http://www.nfl.com/videos/nfl-super-bowl-commercials/09000d5d826a09d0/Halftime-in-America

When you're unemployed do you...

a. Put off that costly dental work until you find employment
b. Get it done, but save on anesthesia, as the termination process has already numbed you to all pain
c. Use your diamond implants in your other teeth to pay for the work
c. Extract all your teeth, put them under your pillow and hope the tooth fairy leaves some money

When you're unemployed do you...

a. Make your martinis with cheaper gin
b. Use a domestic brand of vermouth
c. Buy smaller olives
d. None of the above

When you're unemployed do you...

a. Switch the dog to the store brand dog food.
b. Start eating the store brand dog food yourself.
c. Start eating the dog.
d. All of the above.

Here’s to all the thankless tasks.

Here’s to all the thankless tasks.

The ones that go unnoticed.

The ones that won’t get you promoted.

The ones that won’t stop you from getting fired.

Here’s to the reading of that one last e-mail

After everyone else has turned out the lights.

Here’s to the making of that one last call

That nobody else will know about.

Here’s to taking that later flight

Staying that extra hour.

Writing that one last draft.

Answering that one last text.

Here’s to the doing of all those things

That would otherwise not have been done

And will not likely be acknowledged

When the contract finally comes through.

Here’s to all the thankless tasks

The ones others wonder why you do

But in the end the thankless tasks aren’t really thankless.

Because the one who knows you do them is you.

An update of recent performances of Mt Olympus Coffee Shop

Byron-Bergen High School Drama Club - Bergen, NY
South Sioux City High School Speech Team - South Sioux CIty, NE
Friend of the Author - Stamford, CT
Sublette School Dist 9 - Big Piney, WY

Farewell to my neighbor, Andy Rooney

When my wife and I moved into our home in Rowayton 30 years ago, we were already fans of 60 Minutes, and Andy Rooney. Anyone who moves into this section of Norwalk quickly finds out that Andy Rooney lives here - although you weren't very likely to run into him. Soon after we came to town, Andy's segment on 60 Minutes began alternating with "Point Counterpoint" and eventually replaced it. I became a big fan of his commentaries. Maybe it was because he was a hometown celeb - but honestly, I don't think that had anything to do with it. Andy just said things that I wished I had.

Over the years I had a few chance sightings of Andy on the commuter train,  scuttling quickly off  in his trademark orthopedic style shoes. I also had some more personal interactions. In little snippets I learned more about Andy, the man, who lived with his wife in the big house on one of the busiest corners in town  I discovered Andy loved kids, when I brought my son to his door on Halloween. He invited him and his friends in, gave them treats, and really seemed interested in their costumes.

When Keep America Beautiful was one of the clients at the ad agency where I worked, I decided they needed Andy to do a radio campaign about why on earth people wouldn't recycle. I sent Andy a proposal, which he graciously declined, because "In spite of being asked by many good organizations, like your own, I have consistently declined to do public service announcements. While they are not commercials, anyone doing them loses some of his editorial independence."  I wrote the spots anyway, channeling Andy's attitude, instead of using his voice.

A big fan of his book, My War, my wife  and I went to a talk he was giving to benefit the town elementary school. After the talk, I approached him and did the unthinkable. I asked him to autograph a slip of paper which I intended to later stick in my copy of the book. Andy has often called people who do this "idiots." He patently refused to sign scraps of paper, because he believed they would end up stuffed in pants pockets and washing machines. But after declining my request, he said, "Put the book in my mailbox and I'll sign it."

The next day, I showed up at his house. Andy's mailbox is not convenient. It's not a roadside box, it's on his porch, which is an uphill trek from the street.  Parking at his house is not an easy task either. As I mentioned, he lived on one of the town's busiest intersections.  I parked my car illegally, then  climbed  the hill to the house I had so proudly pointed out to many of my friends and relatives over the years. I stuck the book in the mailbox, then high tailed it back to my car, fearing the wrath of Rooney.

Over the next few days, I agonized over going back to collect the book.  How many days should I give him? If he signed it right away, would he be annoyed that I hadn't come to pick it up? Finally, I decided four days was long enough, and once again I illegally parked my car, and headed up to the casa Rooney. Once on his porch, I gingerly opened the mailbox. Surely this was a federal crime. The box was empty. Oh, well. I had given it my best. Just as I was about to run back to my car, the front door opened. "May I help you?" I turned to find Andy's wife.  I explained my predicament, and apologized for the intrusion. She demanded that I come inside, while she cleared this up. I sat nervously in the kitchen, as she looked around for the book, which she assured me Andy had signed. Finally, she did something amazing. She picked up the phone and called Andy at CBS. There was a brief discussion about the circumstances,  then she hung up, headed into another room and returned triumphantly with the book. She muttered something about hating when Andy left her with these unfinished tasks, then sent my on my way. In my car, I opened the treasure. Scrawled on one of the opening pages was "To Frank Izzo. Andy Rooney 2001" That was it. I felt his pain in doing it. Every letter seemed to scream "idiot." But I was a happy idiot.

My last personal encounter with Mr. Rooney, not much long after the book signing, revealed another aspect of his personality. One day I was walking our bulldog Bartleby through the tiny downtown village of Rowayton. As I walked, I noticed a vehicle moving very slowly alongside me, the way people do when they're about to ask you for directions. Finally the car pulled up a few yards in front of me, halfway blocking the road. The driver's door swung open, and a small figure emerged. It was Andy. He didn't even look at me. He just began declaring merrily "I brake for bulldogs! I brake for bulldogs!" Then he asked what my bulldog's name was, and proceeded to give him a proper rubdown for a solid minute. He informed me that he had a bulldog that he loved, then turned around, hobbled back into his car and drove off, allowing the traffic flow in the village to return to normal.

I will miss Andy's segments on "60 Minutes." I will miss not having him as a neighbor. But I will resist the urge to overly eulogize him or be overly sentimental about his passing.  I agree with what was said on CBS Sunday Morning today - that Andy would probably have an opinion about eulogies - something like - what good is all that praise, when the person is not around to hear it?

Prairie Home Companion "Beaver Manure" excerpt

Saw the show live last week from St. Paul while visiting Jesse

Mt. Olympus Coffee Shop.

My 10 minute play about a Greek Diner run by actual Greek gods, published and produced
http://www.hitplays.com/default.aspx?pg=sd&st=MT.+OLYMPUS+COFFEE+SHOP&p=3364

Shippin' Up to Boston Cover Attempt

Video gamers may influence Pentgon tactics

http://nationalsecurityzone.org/site/navy-finds-creative-uses-for-war-games-and-those-who-play-them/

Cooper my English Bulldog plays with Hank the French Bulldog

bulldog in snow

my Rolling Stones Backstreet Girl accordion riff

New Year

Well, it seems after 10 days straight with bronchitis, at least the lungs on my squeezebox are operating relatively well. Let's all hope for a happy, healthy new year.

My trailer for Film Fest New Haven

My poem about daylight savings time

The hour I gain in fall
I really do not gain at all.
I spend it all in one big block
resetting every watch and clock.

Why voting is so scary to dictators is exactly why you should vote

As long as we have majority rule here (OK, we don't exactly, but close enough for me) I think we're a lot less likely to be taken over by a lunatic/dictator. That's why so many dictators stop or suspend elections (e.g. Hitler, who the majority of Germans did not want). So please, think twice before you skip voting today. At the very least, by not voting, you give somebody else's vote more power. And that someone could be ME.

Does failure to use directional signals indicate the fall of civilization?

 I once was told by a Latin teacher that a sign of the imminent fall of Rome was the day Roman soldiers started packing mirrors along with their battle gear. That little vanity indicated that troops would find it just a little harder to concentrate on lopping somebody's head off in battle. And as the Roman army went, so went Rome. I think the rampant failure of drivers to use directional signals is one of those small things that shows our society is headed for a roadside ditch. It's the canary in the mineshaft of civility.  The failure to signal not only shows that courtesy has broken down on our roads, but it also indicates we're willing to endanger ourselves by our rudeness. When you don't use directional signals, none of the surrounding vehicles know what the hell you're going to do - putting YOU in danger. There's only one thing worse than someone who doesn't use directional signals: someone who uses them at the last second to basically say "Get the hell out of my way!" as they cut you off.

My short story collection, now available at Amazon

I'm proud to announce that "Transubstantiation," a collection of semi-autobiographical short fiction about growing up in New Haven, Connecticut in the 1960's, is now available on Amazon.com.
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1453728600/ref=cm_cr_mts_prod_img