5:15 - OR SO

It is necessary to locate the birthplace of the following offering, both in time and in place.  Otherwise it will make less sense than it will already not make.

It was written late in February 1980 while I was living in New York City.  One of the sofas on which I was allowed to "crash" on a regular basis was in an apartment in the SoHo district.  Atop said apartment building, was a splendid rooftop retreat which I visited whenever I could.  One remarkable evening at about "5:15 - or so" I witnessed the setting sun reflecting magnificently from the upper floors of one of the skyscrapers a couple miles uptown from me.

Rainbows are also significant and shall be revisited in later posts.

5:15 --- Or So

The sun shines sharply from

Northern monolithic highlands.

Other glimmering baubles reflract

And reflect

Rainbows in a reminiscing Mind.

Clement warmness,

Unseasonal for February's normal chill

Sends springtime shivers

Through a fevered Mind.

Alone and one.

Urban, beehive sprawl

Splinters northern sunsets into many.

For a time...

...none passes.

Save for The Never-ending Sound Effect:

Vehicular tumult.

Cloudless blue-and-brown hued masking 

Hides the endless velvet violet of Stellar regions from

Optic awareness.

Here, to when "Now" is here,

The panoramic, spectacle

Emblazons and imprints, permanently

A peaceful Mind.

Painful memories remembered

Then filed away: Forgotten,

"Now" becomes the dwelling place of

Northern sunset's mysteries.

There.

For, when reading-thinking-speaking movement ends:

(a transit of a soul's experience)

There is another "Now" to bleach

The stain of Life

Away for one more shot at Eternity...

...an Immortal Mind.

WHOEVER YOU ARE

~ By Barley Corne

Did you really just call me "Whoever You Are"?

It seems so unlike you to me.

I'm sorry I woke you from trying to sleep.

It was well after noon. Excuse me!

I thought I was more than "Whoever You Are".

I could be mistaken, I guess.

And yet, I am left here to stare at the phone

My ego is bruised, I confess.

It's possible Darlin', whoever you are,

I needed a friend on the line.

Your brand of rejection, I take pretty hard.

It's usually not a good sign.

I just wanted a minute, whoever I was,

To give you the news of the day.

It's not like I called for no reason at all.

I knew what I wanted to say.

So why did you call me "Whoever You Are"?

Why'd you bother to answer the call?

You could have just let your machine pick it up.

Since that's why it's there after all.

My Budweiser's flat'ning, whatever that is.

This evening has gone rather long.

It's late and I have to start early at work

I guess I should wrap up this song.

Whoever I was, I was someone you knew
Whatever I did, did it really hurt you?
However I thought we had something to share.
Now I don't really think that you care...


I'll call in the morning, whenever that is.

And possibly talk to you then.

If I can be more than "Whoever You Are"

Then maybe I'll call you again.

You can talk. They can’t see you!

This document is a partial transcript of a live studio performance of Barley Corne’s Hour Of Wasted Time (alternately spelled: Thyme), broadcast over the National Broadcasting Network on the evening of June 14, 1949.  The popular radio show which, on this occasion, was filmed by an NBN Television crew for an experimental broadcast, was briefly interrupted by interference from an unidentified source and the visual record of certain segments did not survive.  One of these, sadly, is the ventriloquist act of Johnny Mopp & His Magic Toy, Harry.  It was a regular segment on the radio program and featured a non-traditional relationship between the “Dummy”- Harry and his Human - Johnny. 

Johnny Mopp and Harry c.1948

This classic routine, entitled: “You Can Talk. They Can’t See You” begins as Harry (the “Dummy”) emerges from the wings while Johnny remains mostly obscured behind the curtain, offstage.

(Editor’s note: “Barley Corne’s Hour of Wasted Time [Thyme]” was performed between 1943 and 1958 in front of a live audience on a theatrical stage in upstate New Amsterdam.  Hence, even though this is a radio transcript, several staging notations have been made, based on eye witness accounts, to approximate the actual in-person experience.)

Harry

(to Johnny offstage)

Hey, Johnny!  Come on out here.  It’s time to do the show now!

(There is a pause.)

Johnny

(Offstage)

Don’t want to.

Harry

(Looking at the audience)

Come on, the people are waiting.

Johnny

Nuh, uh.

Harry

(Coaxing) Johny come on!

Johnny

…No…

Harry

Why not?

Johnny

(After a slight pause, mumbling) I can’t stop moving my lips.

Harry

What?

Johnny

(Clearly) I can’t stop moving my lips!  I’m a ventriloquist.  And I can’t stop moving my lips!  

Harry

Seriously?

Johnny

I mean, you’re out there talking.  And doing a fine job if I say so myself…

Harry

…Thank you

Johnny

But let’s face it.  If I wasn’t back here doing the work, you’d be sitting out there doing your impression of kindling wood in a suit.

Harry

I beg your pardon…

Johnny

You’re a building material with hair.

Harry

…You don’t have to get personal…

Johnny

Without me, you’d be chucked by the nearest woodchuck….

Harry

Now that’s enough…

(Pause)

Johnny

Sorry…

Harry

Okay then…

Johnny

Got carried away…

Harry

It’s alright.

Johnny

(Animated again) Kinda, like I carry YOU every night.  Day in and day out…!

Harry

All right!  I think we understand! Really, that’s enough now…

(Pause)

Johnny

Sorry again.

Harry

Apology accepted.

Johnny

Anyway, that’s why I can’t come out on stage anymore.

Harry

Because you can’t stop moving your lips…

Johhny

Yeah.  Cause if you and I are on the same stage anymore, I’d have to do all the talking.  You’d have to…..stop.

(Short pause)

Harry

Johnny….

Johnny

(Timidly) Yes?

Harry

It’s Okay.  Come on out here.

Johnny

But…

Harry

It’s OK, really.  Come on out.

Johnny

(begins to protest again)

Harry

(Coaxing)  Come on….

(Johnny emerges from the wings and Harry leads the audience in a big welcoming applause.  Johnny is beaming.)

Harry

See?  How bad is that?  Everyone loves you for yourself! 

Johnny

Yeah!  I guess so!   But what about the lips thing?

Harry

(Is SILENT) 

Johnny

Harry?

Harry

(Is still SILENT) 

Johnny

Harry!  Speak to me!

Harry

(Suddenly) You want to know the truth? 

Johnny

(Relieved) Sure!  Anything!

Harry

…About the lips thing?   

Johnny

Yeah.

Harry

This is radio, Johnny.

Johnny

Yeah.  I…

Harry

You’re a ventriloquist on the radio.

Johnny

(dawn is breaking)  Um..

Harry

It's allright. You can talk. They can’t see you!

Johnny

Ahhhhh! So…

Harry

Kinda frees you up a little…

Johnny

…You could put it that way, yeah.  A little weird, but nice.  (a pause, then genuinely) Thank you.

Harry

(Awkwardly)

Why don’t you just say “Hello”?

Johnny

(Looks at the audience and smiles)  Hello. 

(Someone in the audience responds “Hello!”

Harry

(to the audience) That was mediocre.  Why don’t you try again?

Johnny

(More forcefully…)  Hello!  (Audience responds much better this time)  Smile!  You’re on the RADIO!

(The audience responds with waves of laughter, friendly cheers and loud applause.)

Harry

(Stage whisper) The act.  Go into the act

Johnny

(Also sotto-voce) Oh, r-right!  Okay.    

(Now he’s in character) S-say Johnny,

Harry

(Correcting)  Harry…

Johnny

Harry….  I hear you have a talent for reading minds.  Is that true?

Harry

Actually, I do have a sixth sense if you need to know.

Johnny

Really?  Just how many senses ARE there?

Harry

Counting this one?

Johnny

Yes.

Harry

(Take to the audience)  …Six.

Johnny

(Finally getting into the swing of it, bringing in an air of mystique, setting up a magic trick)

…Right!  Okay.  Who has a deck of playing cards?  A regular deck.  No markings or anything.  Just a plain deck. 

(A woman from the audience produces a deck)

Johnny

Great!  Okay.  Now please shuffle the deck. And be sure not to let me see it as you do.

(This is done)

Johnny

Is it done?

Audience Member

It is done.

Johnny

Good, OK.  Now.  Fan the deck so that the numbers are down.  Don’t let me see them. 

(This is done)

Johnny (continuing)

…and allow me to choose a card from the deck.   Tell me when you’re ready.

Audience Member

I’m ready.

Johnny

Right.  Now I’m going to select a card from the deck, and I will show it to you.  Being careful not to let Harry see the card I have selected.  Is that clear?

Audience Member

Yes.

Johnny

(pulls the card from the deck, looks at it, hiding it from Harry and shows it to the Audience Member) 

You have it? 

Audience Member

Yes.

Johnny

(Hands the card to the Audience Member) 

Now keep that safe somewhere.  Put it in your pocket.  And don’t let Harry see it!

Audience Member

Ok.

Johnny

(Turning to Harry, who has had his eyes averted throughout and has fallen asleep) 

Now…  Harry…

Harry

(snores) 

Johnny

Harry?!

Harry

(Still half asleep)  Okay… just don’t tell my wife…

Johnny

(Shaking him awake) HARRY!!

Harry

What!?

Johnny

Haven’t you been paying attention?

Harry

Last I knew we were talking about my sixth sense and then you completely ignored me since then.

Johnny

I’m so sorry

Harry

I mean I think It’s kind of special to be able to see things other people can’t see don’t you think so?

Johnny

Yes, you’re right.  It IS special.

Harry

(to audience)  I see WOOD people!

Johnny

Harry.   I said I’m sorry.  Can we get back to the act?

Harry

Oh, listen to you!  All “Mr. I’m-in-charge, now,” aren’t we?

Johnny

Harry.   Please.  Why don’t you tell us…. (Back in “tone mystique”) What is the card this nice lady pulled from the deck?

Harry

Are you kidding?  I was asleep!

Johnny

Uh, I thought…I didn’t know you were …..  You said to get into the act and I did!

Harry

I know!  Then you completely ….  Wait a minute. 

(He stops and stares at the Audience Member) 

Harry

You’re the one!

Audience Member

Me?

Harry

Yes.  You are the one who chose the card, aren’t you?

Audience Member

Yes

Harry

Very nice dress.

Audience Member

Thank you.

Harry

You have pockets in that dress?

Audience Member

I do.

Harry

Is there a card in one of your pockets?

Audience Member

There is.

Harry

Is it from my agent?  I can’t find the one he gave me.

Johnny

Harry…

Harry

Ok, ok!  (he bows his head and starts to moan)  Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh-mmmmmm.

Johnny (getting anxious)

Harry.  What are you doing?

Harry

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh-mmmmmm!  What?  I’m communing….

Johnny

Communing

Harry

Yeah, communing…. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh-mmmmmm.

Johnny

With what?  A backwards cow?

Harry

That’s just mean!

Johnny

I’m sorry!  Just pay attention!

Harry

Okay!   The card! 

Johnny

Yes!

Harry

The playing card.

Johnny

Yes!

Harry

That was chosen.

Johnny

Yes!

Harry

It……. was……… the………. 8 of Diamonds!  

(The Audience Member takes the card out of her pocket and shows it to the rest of the audience.  It is indeed the 8 of Diamonds.  The place goes crazy with applause and cheers)

Johnny

Yes!  The 8 of Diamonds!  Isn’t that fantastic, Ladies and Gentlemen?

Harry

Thank you, thank you!  Say goodnight, Johnny

Johnny

Goodnight.  Johnny. 

(He waves to the audience, smiling, triumphant. Harry (with Johnny’s assistance) also waves. They exit the stage, commiserating with each other as they leave…)

End of transcript.

Men are from Ugh. Women are from Neatness

One of my favorite Neal Simon plays is "The Odd Couple". I haven't acted in it yet, but I think I could still pull off a good Oscar Madison if I lost a little weight and put some color back in my hair.

Damn!  Now that I've summoned it, the ubiquitous theme song has lodged itself in my brain.  I expect it to follow me around, dropping sandwich wrappers in my path and blowing cigar smoke in my face all day.  The only way I can get rid of a song once it jams in my head is to replace it with another one.  Then I'm stuck with that tune until it in turn is replaced, or it gets bored with itself and falls asleep when I'm not looking.  However once I realize there is no brain tune playing, it wakes up again once I wonder where it went.  You don't want my head. It's noisy in there.

Since the dawn of sapiens, we have been social beasts. The larger the group, the easier we find it to get along. Owing to the concept of security in numbers, it was simply easier for Ugh to blame someone else, like Wug, for the mess Ugh made.  It was much later, after we started splitting off into monogamous pairs, when we had to own up to our own failings. There's something to be said about how we as self-realized beings adapt to our surroundings to cope, or not to cope with changes.  But when it comes to dealing with the other-than-me on our lives some of us are more adept than others..

Using the Oscar-Felix unity as a template, I can apply it to the relationship my wife and I enjoy in our so-far 29-year experiment in co-habitation.  There are all sorts of things a guy like me needs to learn when he pairs up with a not-me who happens to practice Neatism. Neatism is, as it sounds, a borderline obsession with arranging everything in alphabetical order if it has a label, by height if not, by color if available, and everything is hidden away from sight thereby eliminating "Clutter".  “Clutter” is bad.  Neat is good.

Before entering into the state of Romantic Co-habitation; as far as I was concerned, vacuum cleaners were for people who had shedding animals in the house, and they were w-a-y-y too noisy -- the vacuums that is -- not necessarily the animals.  In my pre Co-habitation world, there were no English words for: the Black Stuff that Grows in the Shower, the Green Stuff that Grows in the Refrigerator, the White Stuff that Grows in the Coffee Mug, or the Brown Stuff that Replaced the Orange and Yellow Stuff that Used to Smell Good. I didn't see a need to name them.  I have no stronger excuse.

But, things are different now, my education has been intense. To begin with, my wife knows the words for all of these things. I'm not certain they are the actual scientific names for the aforementioned fungi, but they are sufficiently descriptive nouns nonetheless.  I bow to her creativity.

When I was young, I had been taught: "There's a time and a place for everything."  In later life, I took that to include such things as the white stuff in the coffee mug.  Not so for the Neatist. (I coined this word myself.)  For the Neatist, the time is always "Now" and the place is predefined by the Master Plan.  If it is not in the Neatist’s Master Plan, there is no place for it.  Exceptions can be made if I petition for special dispensation for certain, unlisted treasures; but the wait can be long for an answer and the space allotment is usually small.  Essentially, I have three desk drawers, one third of one closet, a dresser, the cargo space of my 2006 Matrix, and a cigar box in which to store my 60-some years of personal life's accumulation of touchstones; along with and among the various and sundry components of my modest wardrobe.

Which brings me to this: before our partnership, I wouldn't have dreamed that there was a correct way to hang shirts in the closet, except that the hook came out where the neck would be and the wide part went into the arm hole at the shoulders.  I thought I got points for hanging them in the closet at all.  No. They must face East.  I don't know if it is a sacred alignment for Neatists or not, but they must face East.  I have also learned to embrace the Mystical Trifold of the Towels.  I'm not permitted to explain further. Just know it is the Right Way.  And don't get me started on the Quadruple Flex with a Twist trick with underwear.  I never mastered it and she won't even let me try it anymore.

All these things I learned from my wife as we have traveled on our road together.  And I must admit I was beginning to get the hang of stuff like the order of the Things that Go Under the Sink, when the entire dynamic changed.  Our Daughter arrived.  No longer does our household provide succor for the Neatist. Nature has seen fit to provide for the Child.

...And Ugh has someone to blame for his mess again.

Cue that ubiquitous theme music....

How To Sing the Blues

Okay, I borrowed this.  

Actually, I compiled it.  And I added to it.  The original is lost somewhere in an internet back room, soaked in old sourmash, and strumming on an out of tune 5 string guitar.  

Like most Blues, ain't no one owns it.  It just gets sang.

1.  Most Blues begin "…woke up this morning."

2.  "I got a good woman" ain't no way to begin the Blues, unless something nasty's in the next line, like -
I got a good woman
With the meanest face in town.

3.  Blues are simple. After you have the first line right, repeat it. Then find something that rhymes. …Sort of… like -
Got a good woman
With the meanest face in town
Got a good woman
With the meanest face in town
She got teeth like Steve Buscemi
And she weigh 500 pound.

4.  The Blues ain't about choice: You stuck in a ditch, you stuck in a ditch.  Ain't no way out.

5.  Blues cars: Chevys and Cadillacs and broken-down trucks. Blues don't travel in Volvos, BMWs, or Sport Utility Vehicles. Most Blues transportation is a Greyhound bus or a southbound train. Jet aircraft an' state-sponsored motor pools ain't even in the running.

6.  Walkin' plays a major part in the  Blues lifestyle. So does fixin' to die.

7.  Teenagers can't sing the Blues. They ain’t fixin’ to die yet.  Adults sing the blues. Blues Adulthood means old enough to get the electric chair if you shoot a man in Memphis.

8.  Blues can take place in New York City but not in Hawaii or any place in Canada. Hard times in St. Paul or Tucson is just depression. Chicago, St. Louis, and Kansas City still the best places to have the Blues. You cannot have the Blues in any place that don't get rain.

9.  A man with male pattern baldness ain't the Blues. A woman with male pattern baldness is. Breaking your leg cuz you skiing is not the Blues. Breaking your leg cuz an alligator be chomping on it is.

10. The following colors do not belong in the  Blues :
a. violet
b. beige
c. mauve
d. taupe
e. flamingo (even though it has a cool number of syllables)

11. The following do:
a. Black
b. Brown
c. Black

12. You can't have the Blues in well lighted places like an office or a shopping mall.  Go outside to the parking lot or sit by the dumpster.

13. Good places for the Blues:
a. the highway
b. the jailhouse
c. the empty bed.
d. The bottom of a whiskey glass.

14. Bad places:
a. Ashrams
b. Gallery openings
c. Martha’s Vinyard
d. Golf Course

15. No one will believe it's the Blues if you wear a suit, unless you a old ethnic man and you slept in it.

16. Do you have the right to sing the Blues ? 
YES if :
a. You’re older than dirt
b. You're blind
c. You shot a man in Memphis
d. You can't be satisfied.

NO if :
a. You once were blind, but now can see
b. The guy in Memphis lived
c. You have a trust fund
d. You have all your teeth

17. Neither Justin Bieber nor Randy Travis can sing the Blues. But, not surprisingly, Willie Nelson CAN sing the Blues .

18. If you ask for water and your baby gives you gasoline, it's the Blues .

19. Other Blues beverages are:
a. Wine
b. Whiskey or Bourbon
c. Muddy Water
d. Black Coffee

20. Blues beverages are NOT:
a. Any mixed drink
b. Any wine kosher for Passover
c. Snapple
c. Sparkling Water

21. If it occurs in a cheap motel, it's Blues. 

22. Some Blues names for Women:
a. Sadie
b. Big Mama
c. Bessie
d. Bertha
e. Josephine
f. Lucille
g. Fat River Dumpling

23. Some Blues Names for Men
a. Joe
b. Willie
c. Little Willie
d. Big Willie,
e. Willie B. 

(Note: Persons with names like Sierra, Sequoia, or Skye will not be permitted to sing the Blues no matter how many men they shoot in Memphis.  Nor should juggling comedians.)

24. Other Blues Names (Starter Kit)
a. Name of Physical infirmity (Blind, Cripple, Asthmatic)
b. First name (see above) or name of fruit (Lemon, Lime, Kiwi)
c. Last Name of President (Jefferson, Johnson, Fillmore, etc.)

        (For example: Blind Lemon Jefferson, Cripple Kiwi            Fillmore... ok, maybe 'Kiwi' don't work.)  

25. A Blues way to communicate is to dial up the telephone or to "holla." 

26. Smartphones or any device beginning with “i” are not Blues ways to communicate.

27. Blues weapons:
a. shotgun
b. snub nosed 38
c. knife
d. "doing the dozens,"  (don’t know what it is, but is sounds deadly).

28. People with the Blues eat barbecue (dry rub), grits, corn bread, beans, and they last meal.

29. Good Blues instruments: Guitar (Lucille), Slide Trombone, Saxophone, Harmonica, string bass, piano, drums.

30. Bad Blues instruments: almost everything else, particularly inappropriate are the oboe, french horn, and glochenspiel.

31. You got the Blues if you got lumbago, or a rumblin’ in your brain. If it’s treatable, you don’t got the Blues

32. Black Jack is a good Blues game. Uno is not.

33. Blues jobs include trucker, railroad work, picking cotton, musician (down or out preferred), just got fired.

34. Blues animals include the junkyard dog, faithful mule, big ole rat.  Ain't no cats, except maybe Mud Cat.

35. Most country songs can be interchanged with Blues songs (baby left me, crop ain’t growin’, dog died, shot a man in Reno, etc.)

36. Finally:
Epitaph on a Blues musician's tombstone: "I didn't wake up this morning"

~ Bursitis "Barley Corne" Van Buren

THE FUTURE'S GONNA BE THE DEATH OF ME

~ by Barley Corne

The first thing when I get up in the morning

The mist of sleep still fogging up my brain

I have to get online and bring up Facebook

And lose myself in cyberspace again

My profile picture probably needs changing, 

So I look much more together than I am

Share a couple viral videos from YouTube

It looks like I’ll be late for work again

If I don’t watch out

     (If he don’t watch out)

These modern wonders

Are gonna bring 

     (They’re gonna bring)

Me to my knees

There is no hope

     (He's lost all hope)

Of ever changing

The Future will

     The Future's gonna be the death of me!

Accidently dropped my cellphone in the toilet

Lost my entire phonebook in a flash

I couldn’t make the call she was expecting

Hope she doesn’t throw my stuff out in the trash

I had to use the payphone at the Roadhouse

You know the one at exit 43

Tried to tell her I was working at the office

But, I was busted by my GPS-ID

If I don’t watch out

     (He won’t watch out)

These modern wonders

Are gonna bring 

     (They’re gonna bring)

Me to my knees

There is no hope

     (He's lost all hope)

Of ever changing

The Future will

     The Future's gonna be the death of me!

I met a girl who said she’s into gaming

That sounded mighty int’resting to me.

I got her to escort me to her parlor

Then I saw the 12’ foot Sony L.C.D.

(As big as my old Chevvy S.U.V.)

If I don’t watch out

     (He won’t watch out)

These modern wonders

Are gonna bring 

     (They’re gonna slam)

Me to my knees.

There is no hope

    (Abandoned hope)

Of ever changing.

The Future will

     The Future's gonna be the death of me!

I sent a picture to a cute young thing on Twitter

I told her it was just for her to see

I saw it on the TV News next morning

And now the law is coming after me

So my Yahoo’s got my Bing all in a Dogpile

And my G-Mail’s all Linked-in with stuff to share

My cellmate on his FaceBook page Diggs Myspace

And I haven’t seen my Google in a year!

If I don’t watch out

     (He won’t watch out)

These modern wonders

Are gonna bring

     (They’re gonna slam)

Me to my knees.

There is no hope

    (Abandoned hope)

Of ever changing.

The Future will

     The Future's gonna be the death of me!

The Future’s gonna be the death of me!

To Challenge the Beast

I remember the first watermelon eating contest I was in. I remember it because if I don't, I am doomed to repeat that mistake, too. -BC

I come from a time and place filled with county fairs and summer socials. We went to pancake breakfasts and Kiwanis chicken Barbecues. I could never get my fill of corn on the cob, or buttermilk biscuits. All year I would salivate in anticipation of the next volunteer firemen's carnival; where my dad would be serving up the best pepper, onion and hot Italian sausage sandwich that was ever grilled. I have not yet found its equal.

To say the least, I am a social eater and I will furthermore confess to having participated in a number of so called "food challenges" of varying intensities throughout my years; ranging from the simple "double dog dare" to the Cardinal Puff Toasting memory-hole of my college years to a badly executed attempt at duplicating Cool Hand Luke's hard-boiled egg triumph... (forgetting entirely that Cool Hand Luke was a fictional character in a Hollywood movie).

That being said, I am set upon my heels by the stupefying propagation of high-test professional grade eating challenges in the last decade. I googled up a batch of them and was amazed. I found this eating news/database and calendar for professional competitors called Eat Feats. Here, you got all your 9 pound hamburgers, 72 oz steaks, flaming hot wings, 10 egg omelets with the works, 28 inch/10 pound pizzas and 2 foot sausages. Here you can schedule your belly bursting holiday by starting with a 5 pound breakfast burrito at the Side Bar & Restaurant in West Chester, PA, moving on to Joey's Famous Philly Cheesecakes for the "Death by Cheesecake" (2 foot wide cheesecake) challenge, and easing on down the road to finish up with a late diner at the "I'm a Fat Bast@rd" Eating Competition in Manhattan to down a pound of fried fish at A Salt & Battery. And that's just one day of your fabulous Food Competitors Tour of the Northeast. How will you survive day two?

Now, I have never competed at the Pro level, nor do I foresee that I ever will, but it's nice to know there are some challenges that are designed for the more common human beings among us who enjoy both good food and a little challenge to go on the side.

One such haven of attainable gustatory fame is Blake's Place in Anaheim and Los Alamitos, CA. They are a full fledged pit smoked BBQ cafe and catering operation that doesn't skimp on the good stuff. Besides serving some of the most tender and succulent smoked meats, to literally more than a million guests since opening in 1996, eating there is just plain fun.


Plus, there's "the Beast". It's a two and a half pound mound of pulled pork, pulled BBQ chicken, chopped beef brisket, coleslaw, sliced red onion, pickles and BBQ sauce served on an enormously oversized bun. They stick a couple of skewers in the monster to keep it together (I think they look like antennae) and there you have it. If you choose to take the challenge - finish everything on your plate in 20 minutes - and succeed ,you get a tee shirt (see below). And if you break the record you get the sandwich, a $15.99 value, for free. If you want, you can even go for a DOUBLE.

The Prized Tee-Shirt Logo

I had the honor of witnessing a challenge going down Wednesday evening as I was "babysitting" a new point-of-sale installation at Blake's Place in Anaheim. The gourmathelete, a truck driver for a supply warehouse informs me that he has been training for this all day by working a 10 hour shift. It is his first attempt in this event, but he is confident he will be successful. A Blake's associate explains the rules of engagement: 20 minutes to finish the whole shmegegge and no substitutions on the order - you get what you get and you don't get upset. Next, his name and other vital statistics are entered into the official Beastlog and he is supplied with a digital timer, preset to countdown from 20 minutes. And, finally the sandwich is delivered to him, notably with less pomp and circumstance than I might have expected. But, after all, this is the Grassroots League not the "Show".

The associate finalizes all the official preliminary business, snaps a photo of Man and Beast for the record, does the "Ready-set-GO!" and starts the timer.

At first, the contender takes a moment to size up his competition. Is that a glimmer of "What have I gotten myself into..." in his eyes? Hard to tell. It is fleeting though. I'm sure he doesn't want to show any fear. Not now. This is his moment. He turns the plate slowly to see the mountainous concoction from every angle. He must plan his first move carefully. Should he just go for the slam? Should he try and stuff that thing in his mouth as is? No, it just seems too massive for this approach. He could break it down into components and nibble it into submission. Alas, the time limit would not allow for that path of assault. Seconds tick, digitally, and still not a bite has been taken.

The party of four at the table next to him, aware of his quest, are beginning to cheer him on a little. They want to see him succeed. Or they just want to see him get on with it.

Another moment, and we can see that he has chosen his tactic. Divide and conquer it will be. He's reaching for the knife! He cuts about a third off the sandwich and takes it in his hands. There's the first bite, and he's off!

I will spare you, gentle reader, of the blow by blow description of the (for lack of a better word, I will borrow a made up one from Big Dan Teague) gustation that followed. However I have provided a video of different challenge made on some other day. Words are neither necessary, nor descriptive enough to fully communicate what transpires in one of these events. Be warned, this video is graphic and hard to watch if you are at all squeamish about food, have eating phobias, or suffer from OCD.

In the end, there were cheers all around. The challenge was met in 15 minutes and 45 seconds. It was not a record, but it was one in the "Win" column for humanity. The record at this writing, in the Men's category, is 4 minutes and 5 seconds. Women are welcome to compete as well, and their record is 16 minutes even.

Our intrepid gourmathelete had beaten the Beast. He supplied his tee-shirt size (2XL) to the Blake's associate who returned and presented him with his prize. It was done. An Air of Satisfaction mixed with and infused the hickory smokey atmosphere of Blake's Place in Anaheim with its heady bouquet.

I know that smell. It smells a lot like Italian Sausage with peppers and onions.

What? It could work!

Okay, here's the pitch: Think... reworking "The Dead Zone":

Josh Brolin plays The Presidential Candidate and Daniel Radcliffe plays the troubled amnesiac who's come out an eleven year coma to find he has magic powers and becomes obsessed with heading off a future Armageddon.
ACT I

SNAP FROM BLACK: It's eleven years ago. Open on a car speeding along rain swamped rural highway, after dark. It's a harrowing ride. Way too fast for conditions  CUT TO: interior of the car showing a young boy, about ten years old, lying unconscious in the back seat with his head being cradled in the lap of an unidentified woman; presumed to be his mother. There is a deep gash in the boy's forehead. CUT TO: her perspective past the back of the driver's head out the windshield showing headlights reflecting off sheets of rain and glimpses of rapidly passing foliage at the side of the road, but little else. Are those the oncoming lights of a truck too close to avoid?  CUT TO: Extreme closeup of the terror in the drivers eyes.

There is a scream. Then silence. Then BLACK

FADE FROM BLACK: A closeup of the sleeping boy's face slowly morphs showing the passage of years.
During the change, we hear snippets of conversation as though coming in and out of a sonic cloud: "...how sad it is that his parents died in the crash..." "...a miracle the boy lived..." "...the fact he was already unconscious when the accident happened probably saved his life...." ...an old man's voice accepting responsibility of the boy's care... ...the same elderly voice singing Happy Birthday... " ...why won't he wake up?..." "...we can't find anything wrong..." "...it's all up to him now..." " ...sounds of a TV progressing through a decade of news and events... ... etc.

Then silence.  Then WHITE

FADE FROM WHITE: View from an upstairs window out to a shady well manicured residential back yard. It's a beautiful late summer's day. Pulling back reveals an adult version of the sleeping boy: Jimmy Smith (Daniel Radcliffe). Long steady-cam panning shot takes in the surroundings: A typical farmhouse interior shows pictures hung on the wall showing his life as a boy with his parents. In some of the pictures we can see an older bearded man with his arm around Jimmy's mother. There's a well broken in easy chair beside his bed with a pile of books next to it. The topmost one: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows has a bookmark not quite half way through it. We hear the television in another room and The Candidate (Josh Brolin) is making a speech at a large rally. Through the sonic cloud we can hear the crowd roar its approval on almost each line he utters. He is a phenomenon. As this happens the tracking shot has now found Jimmy's face again and begins a slow zoom in towards it.

CUT TO TV: SLOW ZOOM to  The Candidate saying:
"My friends, I have been watching and I have been praying for God to tell me what to do about the threat we are facing as a Nation when it comes to how our OWN GOVERNMENT has begun to take over our lives. And do you know what he said?"
The crowd shouts "YES!" in unison.
"He said, 'Man'," the crowd cheers, "He said 'Man, you gotta take this one on yourself.'"
The crowd shouts "YES!"
"He said, 'You gotta take this one on yourself because there just in't gonna be anyone gonna do it for you.'"
Scattered "That's right's" and "Amens" can be heard from the crowd.
"He said, 'Rick,'"
The crowd shouts "YES!"
"You gotta run for President of the United States and you gotta WIN! Because I'm FED UP!"
The crowd shouts "FED UP!"  "He said 'I'm FED UP with this government, and you gotta do something about it!'"
We are now zoomed in on  The Candidate 's eyes showing the naked ambition in them. As the crowd goes wild...

CUT TO CLOSE UP: Jimmy Smith,
the sonic "clouds" part and the sound becomes crystal clear. Jimmy's eyes snap open. He is awake.

CUT TO OPENING CREDITS:



....WHAT? It could work!....