Freak Season Two DVD Coming April 21

Thanks to info supplied by DVD segment director Troy, I hereby post a release date for Freakazoid! season two, and that date is exactly the same as the date listed above: April 21. A Tuesday. A day like any other or is it? Will there be a Festival of Head Lice? Bobcats dancing in traditional Greek costumes? Or a Weena Mercator sighting? A Tuesday. They said on Tuesday. Hmmm, Tuesday.

Travels with Gimli

My friend Tony is built wide and low to the ground. He's similar to Gimli the Dwarf if Gimli were beardless, sported a a crew cut, and came from Oaxaco, Mexico. In any case, Tony was laid off from his warehouse job. I knew he regularly hiked Griffith Park. Since we're both actively unemployed, I suggested tagging along on his next scheduled hike. Tony was cool.

In my mind, I pictured wandering leisurely along fire roads, stopping to sip bottled water and admiring the view. Of course, in my mind, I'm regularly given fortune and praise for very little work. Nevertheless, Tony knows every deer path, water pipe, and run-off gully in America's largest urban park and he's not afraid to use them.

Last Tuesday, Tony walked quickly out of the parking lot, across a perfectly flat fire road, and up into the chaparral, moving like a big puma. I kept pace. We hiked upward on narrow, dirt paths, sprinkled with loose, slippery earth. All around were reminders of the 2007 fire that burned over 800 acres and threatened a Los Feliz neighborhood adjacent to the park.
A few blackened trees still stood among the fast-spreading greenery, split open and ready to topple at the slightest touch. Tony kept up a steady stream of conversation, even in parts of the trail where we were practically vertical. "Laid off gives me all this extra time. I'm getting more done around my apartment. I think I'll paint."
"Hey, that's good," I wheezed. By keeping responses short, I could sound in better shape than I was.

Tony blew past another fairly level fire road and continued on up. Biting on a stick to keep from panting too badly, I followed.

We passed an old water tank, gained elevation and peered down to a ridge on our right where black spots were gradually filling in green. Crows circled both sides of the ridge in fives and tens. Lots of loud crows. Maybe something large died, a human body - not an uncommon occurrence in Griffith Park.

A few more twists and turns and we were crossing a horse bridge. Hoof prints pock-marked the surrounding trails, signs that the horsey set liked riding the high country — almost as high as the Hollywood Sign, but not as high as a pop star.

Cresting another hill, Tony slowed. Suddenly, on a clear L.A. afternoon, we could see the Observatory, downtown Los Angeles, Century City, the Verdugo Hills, the ocean. Pretty cool. No wonder Tony likes it up here. Though off to the east, haze formed a Mordor-like smog wall. Still, I never got a decent view whenever family and friends were in town. Only haze and a few downtown skyscrapers poking up out of the gray.
(Photo courtesy of travelblog.viator.com/.../)

Our way back included trails both steep and slippery, where it didn't pay to look beyond your feet. I was winded and could feel hamstrings and glutes tell me tomorrow would be Sore Butt City. But a good hike overall and no knee pain. Tony appeared ready to hike the Rockies, but he had to go pick up his wife.

I may wait until I toughen up a bit before I tackle another Gimli hike.

So Long, My Friend

Troy has a few links up at his site saluting the late Ricardo Montalban, dead today at 88. Ricardo was another of Paul Rugg's inspired casting choices and a real gentlemen. His health wasn't the best in '95 - '97 but he hung in there and always delivered. Here's a scene with Ricardo and Craig Fergueson.


UPDATE: I think we mention this on the 2nd season DVD, but at a Freakazoid! taping, Ricardo once related that the day he became an American citizen (in '95 or '96), he was wheeled into a homicide trial where they stopped proceedings so the judge could swear him in. Then he was wheeled out. (As opposed to being left in the courtroom several days.) May he grace Heaven with the same class he showed on earth.

Animaniacs Fans on the News

Thanks to Keeper, who cameos in hat, for this history shot. What's quaint is the bemused way the host talks about people meeting "on the computer."

Hi Joe!

Somewhere on the web lurks Joe Leahy, actor and voice-over artist extraordinaire.

Coach Kiley Training in the Hills

Kiley has photos and video up of his latest training run along the trails he'll cover in April's race.

Dac Encanto's Poetry Deconstructed

(The following verse by truculent poet Dac Encanto appears in the University of California Press anthology, Surly Postmodern Poems for Pre-Retro People. "Deuce Moon" explores Encanto's almost pathological hatred for the moon, a leitmotif critics have called "lunar hatred" or, in German, Mondblindheit meaning "moon blindness." I shall perform a short deconstruction, but no insight has yet surfaced to explain this Mondblindheit. Encanto will only spit in contempt if you ask.)
Deuce Moon

by Dac Encanto
Round and bright,
idiot face,
planet wannabe,
taking up space,
(Encanto's lunar works always refer to the moon as full. Once, on a Danish talk show, he was informed the moon appeared in phases and sometimes, not at all. Encanto grew confused and sarcastic, storming off the set, taking with him a pen and a coffee mug.)

Dumb ass satellite,
so uncool,
on your dusty surface,
I'd drop a stool,
(The threat of public defecation appears in many of Encanto's works. This was not an idle threat or a metaphor — as Duke Professor Gale Bogminder has suggested. If properly disturbed, Encanto will mete out a pooey punishment regardless of location or circumstance. The 2006 panel incident at the UCLA Book Fair is the reason all subsequent poet panels have been required to keep mobile screens and drums of disinfectant at the ready. Bogminder knows this.)

But I can't,
(I'd die),
You lucked out,
No lie, G.I.
(Encanto's poems are peppered with pidgin-english phrases often associated with Asian prostitutes such as "You Numba 10," and "Souvenir me carton of Salems, baby." Context often provides a hazy explanation. As to the moon having "lucked out," this refers to an incident at the height of Mondblindheit when Encanto tried bribing NASA to have the moon killed. All charges were eventually dropped. However, Encanto did serve jail time for an incident that took place in court involving the prosecutor's briefcase.)

Kiley Trains for Leona Divide 50

Last practice today for the Phoenix runners. Next week, Write Enough will join the team in Arizona for Sunday's Phoenix Marathon. Some teammates are recovering from injuries while others are bored with training and ready to put a race in the books. I'll be walking about the course, checking on this one and that one, helping the half-marathoners finish and full-marathoners endure. I'm thinking they'll do just fine.


On the subject of endurance, TNT Coach Kiley has commenced training for a 50-mile run. The Leona Divide 50 winds through the Angeles National Forest near Lake Hughes. Not content preparing for a double-marathon, he has also committed to raise 5K for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. Having lost his dad to non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma, Kiley takes his training and the mission of LLS quite seriously. (Without getting all stuffy and arch about it.)

Follow along with Kiley as he blogs his journey toward an April 18th date with discomfort.

Also, stop by his fundraising site and help out with whatever you can.

Vegetarian hog dogs. I watched someone eat one today. Would a carnivore dine on meat-wheat? I'll leave that as an open question.

The Pilfered Gnome

(The following excerpt is from a highly reviewed, young adult mystery: Jimmy Lee Caper: Unpopular Teen Detective by Preston Haggis.)

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Jimmy Lee Caper - rude, selfish, junior detective.

Elmo Montpelier - Jimmy's best friend, an affable, young hunchback.

Professor Lincoln Mancrisp - Stern headmaster of Quillham Academy; addicted to pizza rolls.

Hannah Hooverton - Jimmy's clever, ambitious classmate.

Dr. Thane Blackingham - Eerie, mysterious owner of a tall dark tower.

——————————————————————————————————————————

CHAPTER ONE

WHO IS RESPONSIBLE?

Jimmy rapped sharply on Professor Mancrisp's office door. "I wonder what the old jerk wants now?"

"He sounded mad," whispered Elmo."I think this time we're really gonna get it."

"Cool it, Mount McKinley."

Elmo rubbed his hunchback defensively. "Do you have to call me that?"

"Yeah, I do. There's an alp growing out of your back."

The door swung open and Professor Mancrisp towered over the boys, a pizza roll stuck in his great red beard. "Enter, young gentlemen. We're going to discuss a missing lawn gnome. I hope for your sakes that you didn't take it.

Exchanging worried glances, Jimmy and Elmo entered the Professor's cluttered office. They sat upon stacks of books while the professor cleared space on his desk, shoving aside a microwave oven and several pepperoni pizza roll boxes. Perching on a desk corner, the professor wiped away the dangling roll from his beard and grasped a long ash cane. "I want answers."

"Or what?" sneered Jimmy.

Professor Mancrisp smacked the cane down on his desk. "Don't cross me, Mr. Caper, or I'll beat you so hard you'll wail like an old Cheyenne squaw at a massacre."

"Better not," said Jimmy weakly. He respected brute force and knew from bitter experience the Professor wasn't bluffing. And for that, he'd pay back Professor Mancrisp someday.

"The Great Gnome of Quillham has gone missing,"said the professor. "It was last seen yesterday evening in its customary place before the administration building. This morning, a student, Miss Hooverton, reported it missing.

"Ha," snorted Jimmy. "Hanna's nose is browner than a crap log. She probably swiped it so she could report it missing and win suck-up points with the teachers."

"Hanna wouldn't do that," cried Elmo."She's kind and decent."

"What do you know, mountain back?"

Professor Mancrisp pointed the ash cane at Jimmy. "That sounds like another hunchback insult. Apologize to Mr. Montpelier."

Jimmy mumbled something, while Elmo grinned as if enjoying a fine jest. But mentally he crafted an image of Jimmy with his foot caught in a storm grate while a fiery iron mallet descended from the sky, smashing him into flaming, bloody chunks. "Oh, Jimmy was just kidding. It doesn't bother me."

The Professor looked perplexed. "Why do you pal around with him, Mr. Montpelier? He insults you, borrows money that he never repays, and often puts a football under the back of his shirt, the better to mock you. Don't you deserve better?"

Elmo shrugged. "My Aunt makes me do it. She's rich and kinda nuts. Auntie says it's a moral test: if I can hang out with Jimmy all through Quillham, there isn't anything I can't do in life. And after graduation, she'll pay for an operation to remove my hump. I'd rather have the operation now and worry about the rest of my life later, but that's the way it goes."

"'That's the way it goes,'" sneered Jimmy in a mocking sing-song.

The professor sighed, seemed about to comment, but returned to the original matter. "In any case, that plaster Gnome with its vacant politician's smile, has stood upon the lawns of Quillham for 113 years. It is part of our rich heritage. Now suddenly it's gone. What do you know, Mr. Caper?"

"Man, are you whoofing or what? I didn't take your stupid Gnome. But I'll bet I could find out who did. I bet I could find out before you."

"Really, Mr. Caper? You've had a little success solving small mysteries around here. Some people even think you're a regular Sherlock Holmes."

"Who's that?"

"Skip it. But I think you've benefited from blind pig luck and observant companions."

"That's a load," yelled Jimmy. "I'm the smart one. I'm the one who figures things out. And I'll find that gnome and you'll look as dumb as an old wino eating pizza rolls under a bridge."

With a whistling crack, the professor brought the ash cane down on Jimmy's hand.

"Owww! What was that for?"

"Metaphorical insults count the same as real ones. Very well, Mr. Caper. Locate the gnome and we'll discuss intelligence later."

Jimmy smirked. "What do I get for finding it?"

Professor Mancrisp held up the ash cane. "Think more along the lines of what you won't get."

Outside the faculty building, Jimmy and Elmo walked quickly, pulling Quillham blazers tight around their collars in the crisp autumn air. Jimmy seethed, shaking his sore hand. "Where does that old fart get off hitting me?"

"I don't know," said Elmo, still enjoying the moment.

Jimmy seemed mystified. "Nothing sticks to him. I've ratted the professor out to Child Protective Services for beating me with that stick. I've planted kiddie porn on his computer and called the feds. I've told the cops he was an old fruit who tried to queer me. I swear, the guy is made of lucite. Stuff that's worked with every teacher, parent, child psychologist, social worker, and counselor just slides off old Mancrisp. What's worse, he's becoming a hero to other adults. I gotta find a way to pull the plug on Dr. Pizza Roll."

Elmo struggled to keep up with Jimmy."What about the gnome?"

"How the hell should I know? You got five?"

Elmo handed him a new five-dollar bill. "Thanks, McKinley," said Jimmy as he jogged across the quad, away from the hunchback. "I'm gonna get a burger at the student center. Why don't you ask around, see what we can dig up on the gnome. Are we cool?"

"Hey, no problem," called Elmo to Jimmy's back. For a brief moment, he wished he could mentally kill people like in Firestarter, but the moment passed as Elmo wearily waddled off toward the administration building.

Pacific Northwest Deluge

Photos from the Seattle Post-Intelligencer of flooded I-5 near Centralia. We drove through here last week on our way back to LA. There was more green than brown.

Beware the Pineapple

All that northwest Christmas snow is now melting with a vengeance, flooding freeways and isolating the citizenry, including my sister, Mary. She lives outside Olympia near the town of Yelm with her roommate, plus Judy the dog. Below is Mary's sodden dispatch:

"Today Vail Road was closed south of my place where it goes over the Deschutes River and in the other direction up by the turn off into Yelm along Black Hills Road. I had over 4" of rain at my house yesterday! The winds are fierce but we're not even close to getting the worst of it. There are talking heads on the TV saying worst flooding EVER.

I had my first recording session for BirdNote yesterday in Seattle and I was going to stay in town and drop a disc off at McCann's and have dinner with Annie and Paul Soustek but I bolted for the south as soon as I finished the session and it was akin to fleeing Sodom. I did not look back but I heard roads were closing behind me as I monitored the radio. I had to drive the diciest section of I-5 (in the urban area) by Tacoma. They ended up evacuating 7,000 people from the area beside that spot by the time I got to Yelm. They also closed a 20 mile section of I-5 that you had driven through Chehalis/Centralia area, just south of where the alpaca farm is that you passed on the way back to Glendale. They had had terrible flooding just south of there last year. For awhile there was no way to go by road or rail from Seattle to Portland. The back roads were closed or flooded too. Seattle's kind of cut off since all the passes through the Cascades are closed or impassable, closed from snow or avalanche danger. I'm not sure how that rehab is going but I'll get the scoop on the 5:00 news coming up in an hour or so.

A good thing they learned from the devastation last year in these rural spots was to design an emergency plan for evacuation of critters. Last year they lost a dreadful amount of horses and cattle, sheep, goats and alpacas. Pierce County had a plan in place and the critters are fine as they evacuated about 22,000 people out that a way and who knows how many cloven hoofs.

I went to the store, bought 30 lbs of food for [dog] Judy and the fixins for a huge pot of Irish Stew for me and I'm fixing on fixing that up tonight to take me through the weekend. I will not be in a fix unless I lose power before the crock pot is finished. Then I use the burner on my BBQ grill."

Here's a site with road updates and live traffic cams that show dark, empty, watery interstates.

Awaken to Your Past Life's Purpose

(The following is an excerpt from a New Age bestseller by noted mystic Pez Manatee.)

Where on Earth were you yesterday? Atop a hill? Eating Hot Pockets from a bag? Have you forgotten your past and the meaning it once gave you? Do you wonder if I ever stop asking questions? Sometimes. But by focusing on me, you remove awareness from yourself, thus growing fearful. Stop acting like a frightened elk, full of snorting and soiling of yourself. Clean up. But not here. Find a public restroom. And bring your own towel.

Take off a sock. How do you feel? Take off the other sock. Better? Now take off a third sock. Why were you wearing three socks? Sock hogs are never reincarnated. Remember that when you dress.

A light exists in a dark place. That place is your consciousness or, perhaps, Medford, Oregon. I was short-changed there by a waitress. But did I retaliate and place my karma at risk? Of course not. That's what tort lawyers are for.

Wear a salad bowl on your head. Do this and know humility. Do it not and you have a salad bowl that isn't full of dandruff.

Email Oprah. I want to be Pick-of-the-Week. Do this and your karma will be good. Email Oprah. In your next life you will be a postmaster. Lots of paid sick days. Email Oprah. You can drink on the job. Email Oprah. You'll never work again and receive a check every two weeks. Email Oprah.

Bus Riding Then and Now

They were glad to see me back yesterday, the mechanics. "Mr. McCann, we've been waiting." My shocks and struts were repaired. Two new tires had been added. But still more expensive repairs were needed. "You must replace the front shocks. While not as bad as the rear shocks, they are unworthy of you." I passed. I kind of like the bouncing.

In order to get back to the garage, I had to ride a bus for the first time in 25 years. Back in my L.A Connection days, I had car trouble and no money to retrieve it from the shop. So I took the bus until I saved up enough to ransom my ride. Back then, I was traveling from Hollywood out to the theater in Sherman Oaks. My stop was on Hollywood Boulevard - depressing by day, terrifying by night. For an idea of what it was like, Netflix The Road Warrior. Everything on the Boulevard was the same as in the movie except for no sand or oil refinery, and, maybe 40 or 50 Feral Children with stainless steel boomerangs.

No such drama in La Canada. My trip took twenty minutes and I spent most of it trying to figure out how much a bus ride cost. As the door hissed open, I pulled out some bills. But the woman driver waved me aboard, "You don't have to pay." I thanked her and sat down. Hey, I'm digging the bus. I watched a Mexican woman step on. She flashed a pass to the driver. A young student couple inserted a card into a slot. A guy in his twenties paid a quarter. Then a woman boarded with two kids, exchanged small talk with the driver, and took a seat. I'm guessing she paid with the gift of chat.

Anyway, if you're in town, board the Glendale Beeline #3 Southbound along Foothill Boulevard in La Canada.

They're ready to deal.

Ahoy, Paul Rugg!!

Now onboard the blogging skiff, having hoisted his sail, and planted his flag, and fed his parrot raisins and a frozen waffle. Stop by Froynlaven and say howdy.

A Form of Exercise

Having my car in the shop has provided me the opportunity to walk a few miles to the nearest book shop offering WiFi and coffee. I've taken that opportunity. As I blog and slug down java, I'm noting no tenderness in my knee. This is also a chance to write in the trendy present tense. I'm here. I'm sitting. I'm watching a bus outside. I'm touching a sore spot on the inside of my cheek where I burned myself eating hot pizza. I'm thinking about mailing my loud neighbor a bag of coyote urine, but wonder if that would be a crime? Who could I pay to urine-milk a coyote?

Maybe I'll take the bus back to the repair shop.

Immediacy

Trouble finishing any writing lately, unless it's short blog posts. I realize that's why I like blogging: no meetings, revisions, last second changes, legal notes, marketing suggestions, children's educational advocates, or funny jokes an executive thought up on the way in to work.

Just this.

Winding Down

Almost the last practice for the Winter 08/09 Team as they gear up for the Phoenix Marathon in two weeks. I ran a little bit yesterday, but the tendons in my right knee, though improved, were still tender. I've been doing more T'ai Chi as the basic stance strengthens quad muscles, which, in turn, supports tendons and ligaments around the knee. Turnout was sparse, as a number of participants were enjoying extended holidays or hung over.

Old boss Jean MacCurdy will be in town around the middle of January. Several of us will get together for lunch and learn whaz s'up?

Nutz to Ruegger Artwork

More characters from Tom Ruegger.

2009

A year of fun and adventure! Enough with writing and running goals - though they will have their place. This year, I stay open to the possibilities of great and wonderful events happening in my life because I stopped limiting my imagination.

Now I think I'll lie down in a position that might appear very much like a nap and contemplate this golden future.

Happy New Year from Home!

Deee-lighted to be here. A fine, noble 2009 to all! Abba thinks so, too.

New Years Eve in Redding

Such a possibility awaited us until a few minutes ago. But first yesterday's driving update: loaded up the car at my sister's place out in the Washington countryside. My windshield was glazed with ice. That meant Monday's rain-soaked roads were also icy. Heading out on two-lane blacktop past alpaca farms, Douglas Firs, and coated horses grazing in early morning fields, we kept the speed down to 30 mph. Even that caused the car to swerve on slick blacktop. A half-hour of tense driving got us on the interstate and a deep sigh of relief. 

Regular motoring down into Oregon, through now-cleared Portland and across the flats to Eugene. Past Eugene, the terrain rose toward Grant's Pass. MDW was driving when a high-pitched squeal sounded under the hood. She pulled over and I checked - nothing. I took over driving as the squeal came and went, usually above 2300 RPMS/63 mph. 

We passed through Medford and Ashland, climbing into the southern Cascades into California. Dusk arrived and the squealing worsened. I began paying attention to exit sign numbers and hoping the engine held up to Redding. We entered a prehistoric lava field, encircled by cone-shaped, extinct volcanoes, snowy slopes aglow in the fading light. Overhead, a crescent moon gleamed above a landscape that seemed as bleak and lifeless as an asteroid. Oh, God, not here, I thought. And we squealed on past.

Finally made it to Redding. This morning the garage checked it out and said a part holding on my fan belt assembly was expiring. They found an after-market item over in Andersen and managed to install it, ensuring New Year's Eve might indeed be spent in the bosom of our condo.  

Ah, but another full day of driving stands between us and home. Adventures abound on the western roads. Let us see what transpires. 

Moist Washington Notes

Down at my sister's house near Fort Lewis. We had a large family gathering last night, with the kids screaming and running around because we're out in the country and who is gonna hear? Today my sister and I drove to Tacoma to see a museum containing nifty glass artwork, but it was closed, so we discussed family business, stopped at a used book store with a cat curled up on the counter, then out for pizza. 

During last week's storm in Portland, cars were following snow plows on the freeway, driving at low speeds. Many ran out of gas as the off-ramps were unplowed and impassable. I passed several such vehicles last Wednesday, sealed in snow by subsequent plowings. Even if cars had managed to exit, fuel trucks couldn't reach many filling stations along the interstate. 

The Washington sky is in constant flux, as if under contract to display as many looks as possible: overcast, sunshine with light shafts so brilliant they make you squint, back to partially cloudy, dark and broiling, but always with rain, or rain mixed with snow. 

Tomorrow, MDW and I begin our thousand-mile drive back to Los Angeles. Lots of rain in the outlook, but hopefully very little snow. This has been a wonderful trip seeing family and the best, most adventurous, Christmas I've had in awhile. 

Red Right Return and Other Nautical Terms

Eleven McCanns took the ferry across Puget Sound to Bremerton on the Kittsap peninsula. My cousin Jim, an old Navy officer, pointed out red marker buoys that vessels entering port must keep to their right. Helmsmen are taught to remember that by this post's title. Land blocking the wind is known as a wind shadow. And green buoys direct returning helmsman to stay to their left, or port side. As a young man in officer training forty-four years ago this day, Jim married his wife Linda. To stay married that long requires some pretty nifty navigation of its own.

We wandered around the slushy Bremerton wharf, ate Belgian French Fries, then sailed back to Seattle for dinner at an Italian restaurant. At least I didn't have to drive today - car or boat.

Icy Road Trip and U R A BUS

Tuesday morning, after a tense drive in cold, mist and ice, I crossed the mountains into Oregon. Spent that night on my cousin's farm near Corvallis; quiet with rain falling on snow; rolling hills bristling with Douglas Firs rising out of the mist; Hereford cows, rich in placid bovine calm, munching behind wire cattle fences. On Christmas Eve, prior to driving up to Tacoma on Family Fest '08, I checked the interstate on the web. Smacked by two snow storms with another on the way, the I-5 around Portland appeared to be a mess of spun-out wrecks, ice sheets, and hour-long waits.

Sure enough, all the above lurked beyond Salem. As I learned, the cameras didn't really show ice composition: brown in scattered fields like very large charcoal briquettes. Driving across it was like traversing an extremely slick, treacherous washboard. On the roadside, cars were spun out into snow banks, some buried by subsequent plowings. Reaching the hour-long backup, I sat behind a Subaru long enough to realize the vehicle name was an anagram for the title of this post.

Driving across the Columbia River into Washington found me motoring through rain, snow rain and snow, and moisture in general. But it sure beat icy old Portland.

Christmas today was spent pleasantly at the home of cousins, surrounded by other cousins of many ages. Alas my sister had to work, a niece couldn't come out, and MDW was bushwhacked by the airlines' incompetence, missed her flight, got shuffled to Phoenix, and spat out finally in Seattle at 8:00 PM. But we're winding down now, on a busy Christmas night.

Merry Christmas to all.

Merry Christmas!

Interesting travel updates to follow.

U.N. Manny

Paul suggested this episode as a tribute to when the Animaniacs writers were in New York and took a U.N. tour. Mr. Lighter-Than-Air is Marc Drotman, another member of our old Acme Comedy Theatre improv group and the voice of Fatman from Freakazoid.

Dateline: Redding, CA

After many hours of driving, racing ahead and through rain storms, I reached Redding. Check into my room at Motel 6, then hit Denny's for dinner. Three waitresses are seated at the counter in a mostly empty restaurant. They look at me as I enter and one remarks, "Let's fight over him." I throw my arms wide and answer, "A dream come true." They laugh and suddenly the place fills up behind me with three family groups with kids and old people, but no dogs.

I stop in a Shell station convenience store for the next day's road snacks. The woman behind the counter notices I'm carrying a book. In under three minutes I learn:

She had just finished a book by Dean Koontz.

Used to live in Newport Beach, CA - the same town Koontz lives in - and greeted the author as he was driving around town with his golden Labradors.

Has ADD and hasn't seen a movie in years because she can't settle down long enough to focus.

Used to work in Alaska running a tour group.

Has a sister who is super smart and encourages people to read.

Finally I got away after saying I suffer from 24-hour leprosy.

And the night is still young here at the feet of the Cascades.

Schmootz

Dark Smurfs courtesy of Tom Ruegger.

SUNDAY UPDATE: Phoenix marathon team ran 20 yesterday. Several runners bonked from injuries and ended up stopping or heading to the pool. Former coaches Jimmy and Kate stopped by to teach a form clinic to the spring team. Jimmy recapped his outstanding finish at the Rio Del Lago Ultra Marathon back in September. (1st in age group; 3rd overall on a blistering hot day.) Mostly drove around with Coach Karla and checked on people.

Some sort of bug laid me low today. I feel better now. Off to the north tomorrow. Weather is rough with storms in Portland and throughout Washington. But I'll make it, for its Christmas and I said I would.

Up the Coast and On the Couch

After years of traveling east to Phoenix, the axis of family Christmas has shifted to the Pacific Northwest. Some family members are returning to old haunts, others have always lived there, while a few are newly landed. Whatever the case, it will be a Christmas with the most McCanns around in, oh, say 37 years. I'll drive up on Sunday, visit cousins in Oregon, then on to Washington, moving from near Olympia to outside Tacoma to Seattle. A few thousand miles there and back again.

No running for another month. This self-imposed ban will be an attempt to jump start my knee past the "almost healed" state its been in since mid-October. Lots of pool running, I'm thinking, but not with much enthusiasm.

Scooter and Jersey

More from Tom Ruegger: Young Scooter and Jersey, his fantastically old, heroic dog who once saved President Taft.

Return of Manny

Fans of One Saturday Morning may recall the energetic Manny the Uncanny. Paul Rugg's creation is now up at YouTube with more episodes on the way.

Honolulu Marathon News

Text messages keep pinging in from the marathon. Teammate Liz, who'd gone out for a vacation, decided to run and has just finished. Larry, a man who fought through many injuries, is past mile 22 and doing strong. Ah, the 21st century.

UPDATE: Larry finished in 7:34. Another heavily injured runner, Dolly, finished in 7:53. A long time on a hot course, but they overcame obstacles and did it. Team!

UPDATE: Jon finished in 8:59, while wife Maureen slogged in at 9:47. A rainy, wet run with rain at the start and more rain in the middle. A friend of Ernesto's finished today and reported blisters on her arch from wet socks. In any case, congratulations to the runners and well-done to Coach Dave who put in a full day on the course.

UPDATE: Props to Aaron who finished a team-first 4:54. Not bad for an initial marathon.

Dog Gone

Some of Tom's different dogs. For reasons known only to Blogspot, it decided to alter the colors. Everyone's a critic.

Aloha, Winter Team

Dinner last night at Marston's in Pasadena as we feted our teammates heading off to run this Sunday's Honolulu Marathon. Rain is forecast for Oahu with temperatures in the low 80s. High humidity; a 5:00 AM start time which means a 3:00 AM wake-up. For some reason, the Honolulu Marathon is like Mardi Gras for Japan. The Japanese flock to this race dressed in odd, strange outfits such as papier mache giraffe heads, massive disco wigs, Elvis costumes, wooden clogs, space aliens, and anime characters such as Sailor Moon. When fatigue sets in, peek around at the Japanese runners. They're like a visual energy drink.

Illinois: Land of Cash

Having grown up in Illinois, I've followed the Governor Blagojevich corruption scandal with a sense of nostalgia. My senior year in high school, Paul Powell, the Democratic Secretary of State, died of a heart attack. Under investigation for corruption, a maid found over 800k in cash stuffed in shoe boxes, briefcases and strongboxes in his Springfield hotel room. Powell walked liked he talked: "There's only one thing worse than a defeated politician, and that's a broke one."

Powell's saying should replace "Land of Lincoln," though you'd need a smaller font or bigger license plates.

Tom Ruegger Art: Bluebird and Poe

Happy and sad personified, courtesy of Tom Ruegger.

Phoenix 18

That's how far our marathoners traveled at practice. Saturday was the USC-UCLA football game and the Rose Bowl was jammed early. We ran through the smell of cooking meat at 9:00 AM, a smoky meat haze lingering in the arroyo. Old injuries flared up and some runners had to cut it short, but no one was left face down on the course.

Afterwards, the team presented me with a birthday cake and a card. My birthday was Friday, Dec. 5, a day I share with America's obscure 8th president Martin Van Buren and Gen. George Armstrong Custer of Little Bighorn fame. Let us hope that one day I am not obscurely massacred.

Time and Mrs. Murphy

Back in the early '80s I lived in a Hollywood apartment, neighbors to cameraman Dutch Heckman. Once, our elderly landlady, Mrs. Murphy, told Dutch and I that she'd been present in Honolulu during the Pearl Harbor attack. (A great danger came from falling shrapnel, courtesy of exploding U.S. anti-aircraft shells.) Evacuated from Oahu to California, Mrs. Murphy bid farewell to her husband, Bill, a Marine major. Bill was gone for years, fighting in the Pacific. He once wrote Mrs. Murphy from Eniwetok that "nothing smells worse than a dead Jap." Bill survived the war, but, like the stench of enemy corpses, the horror of that island always lingered. 

Mrs. Murphy eventually became a manager at the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles. (She was present that day in 1968 when Robert Kennedy was assassinated.) Talking later, Dutch and I realized that Mrs. Murphy was a history sponge, soaking up the events spilling around her. In time, Eniwetok vaporized from hydrogen bomb tests, the Ambassador Hotel was torn down, Bill died, and Mrs. Murphy ended up a landlady, drinking double bourbons in the afternoon and sharing her memories with a constantly employed cameraman and an unemployed comedy writer. She always regretted never moving back to Hawaii after the war. (She prounced it 'Ha-vi-ee.") A few years later, Mrs. Murphy passed away. She is forever tied in my mind to December 7th. I wish her a good afterlife and hope it contains palm trees rustling in the warm trade winds.

wonderfulengineering.com

Paul Rugg Records Tom Ruegger Characters

Thanks to said garage band, Paul Rugg and I recorded voices to different characters that Tom Ruegger had drawn, with Tom serving as engineer. Great fun all around and a nostalgic reminder of times past. Tom will animate a few and put 'em on the web. More than likely, some will find their way here in the next few months.

Troy, Freakazoid DVD director, has his own blog. Visit and learn about fine cultural happenings.

I have gas today.

Surly Bird and The Worm

More artwork from Tom Ruegger - dawn confrontation between elusive worm and Surly Bird.
















Surly Bird tries a more passive approach with a spot of worm-fishing.