I was sad to hear that George Carlin passed away Sunday. He was hands down my favorite comedian, and though he's done much in his career (first host of SNL, Rufus from Bill & Ted), it was his stand-up that made his great.
My introduction to Carlin came when I unearthed my father's record collection. Amidst all of the Beatles and Led Zeppelin albums I found something called "Toledo Window Box" (and I was about the age where I got a stoney kick out of the reference). It was a recording of a show he'd had in Oakland and had some bits that, for lack of a better phrase, made me howl with laughter. Who knew nursery rhymes were that dirty?
Though he might be remembered best for his "Seven Dirty Words", my favorite George Carlin bit of all-time is easily "Baseball and Football", a version of which you can hear below. The lack of success I've had trying to recite mere portions of the skit to people who'd never heard it before stands as testament to his comic genius (or my lack of timing).
We'll miss you and remember you, George. And of course, your unique views on politics, religion, and the English language...
Heath Ledger, who almost won an Oscar for his performance in "Brokeback Mountain", was found dead in his apartment today. So far all that's being said is that it's possibly a drug related death.
For many, Ledger's introduction came in the teen flick "10 Things I Hate About You", though personally I saw him in the movies "The Patriot" and "The Four Feathers" first. He plays the Joker in the new Batman movie coming out this summer, "The Dark Knight", one of the most highly anticipated movies of 2008.
An American Legend passed away on Friday as Evel Kneivel died, ultimately losing a three year battle with cancer. Though I have always been fascinated by Evel Knievel and his jumps since childhood, I never thought of why all of his highlight reels were of his unsuccessful stunts. Now it seems like a no-brainer: humans have an innate interest in the failings of others, whether it be breaking vertebrae and ribs while trying to jump over a fountain at Cesar's Palace or just getting voted off in your favorite reality show (finally!).
I think one YouTube user put it best when he suggested that Evel Knievel, upon arrival to Heaven, would hop on a motorcycle and proceed to jump over the Pearly Gates (without injury, of course).
I lost a family member today. He'd been sick for a long time and he passed away early this morning in his home. He wasn't a brother or a grandfather, but I knew him, and he knew me.
Most of my memories of him come from my childhood. He and his wife would always be at family gatherings, and they would even host a Christmas party every year that seemingly everyone went to. I also remember my mother taking me on many, many summer trips out to a house he owned with his brother on a lake, where I learned how to swim.
I would never have to refer to an aunt or my mother and ask "What's his name again?", and I had heard many stories from my parents and others about him, though I never really got a chance to have a good conversation with him in my adult life.
I would see his wife, my 2nd cousin, at weddings and milestone birthday parties, but he was always not well enough to be there in person. I would ask about him and she would give me honest answers, then I'd say something like "Tell him I said hello."
More recently she'd suggest I come over for a visit, and though I always meant to, I never did. Never, that is, until two days ago when I went with my mother and my aunt and saw him nearing the end of his life.
He was mostly in a daze and wasn't able to talk much. All we could really do was talk to him, hold his hand, and ultimately say goodbye.
...
While we were there I saw lots of the things he had crafted around the house. This was his hobby and a big part of his life, and I never knew this about him. He had hand-made decorations everywhere, and I was even shown his workshop. It made me realize I could've known him a lot more, and likewise he could've known me a lot more too. I could've told him about how I met my fiancée, or how I play in a baseball league, or even just how I have my own blog.
I never had the chance to get to know him better, to know him as more than a figure from my childhood or a character in a family story. I never made the time to go and see him, and I should have.
It may sound cliché, but it should never be the case that you "don't have time". If there is something you mean to do, something you want to do, you make the time.
No long or complicated diatribe here. It's been 6 years since that day we remember all too well. We have our own stories, complete with vividly detailed timelines, and have shared these with countless others since that day in 2001 and countless more to come.
Forget the politics and conspiracy theories, and just remember what happened, how you felt, and those people we lost whom you may have known on that, the scariest and saddest day in our generation's collective life thus far.
Like many other kids who grew up in Boston, I spent a good amount of my high school years roaming around places like Copley, Kenmore, the South End, Harvard Square, and Allston, etc. It is amazing to me how much a part of the city I felt in those days, and much of that I attribute to relatively unimportant things like knowing the ins and outs of the T or being able to rattle off the 5 closest Mortal Kombat machines from any location. More than anything, though, I think it was that I knew and was known by (or at least recognized by) many people in and around town. Red and Pops at Little Stevies, the guys who worked at Captain Nemo's and the Pizza Pad, and even the token taker at Aquarium station who for some reason let us hang around for hours until kicking us out every day for sliding down those long escalators.
And then there was Mr. Butch. I remember him as a tall, lanky, dreadlocked fixture outside the Rat in Kenmore, and though apparently homeless (I think by choice), he stuck out as a kind of celebrity, a man everyone knew. "Hey, Mr. Butch", you'd call, and he'd come right over, grinning, and ask how you were. Maybe he'd crack a joke or say something you didn't understand at all, but you would smile anyway because, for some inexplicable reason, he made you feel like you were old friends.
Mr. Butch unfortunately died in an accident today (July 12) at the age of 56. Below is a short article from boston.com.
(Update 7.13.07 - there's now another, more recent article in the non-breaking-news section)
(Update 7.14.07 - a great Mr. Butch guestbook has been set up and lots of people are sharing their memories. It's amazing how many random people have fond memories of this guy...testament to his persona. He will be missed.)
Mr. Butch, the street icon, dies in a scooter accident
(Mark Wilson/Globe Staff/file)
Mr. Butch, shown above on Harvard Avenue in November, had lived on the streets in Boston for about 30 years.
By Bryan Marquard, Globe Staff
Mr. Butch, the dreadlocked, homeless man who was an icon in Kenmore Square and Allston, was killed today in a scooter accident, friends and family said.
Boston police said there had been a fatal accident just after 7:30 a.m. on Cambridge Street in Allston, but did not release the name of the victim. Mr. Butch's sister, Jeannette Madison of Worcester, said she had been notified of her brother's death.
Mr. Butch's real name was Harold Madison Jr. The 56-year-old had been the subject of YouTube videos [as well as at least one independent film], a MySpace tribute page, and a Wikipedia entry. He was so popular that The Boston Phoenix wrote in April that it was considering changing the criteria for its "Readers' Pick: Neighborhood Character" category because Mr. Butch won so regularly.
"He's been in so many local movies, videos, in the Phoenix -- he's like an icon of the neighborhood," said Erin Scott, manager of New England Comics on Harvard Avenue in Allston.
Mr. Butch had lived on the streets of Boston for about 30 years. In Kenmore Square and his neighborhood in Allston -- areas rife with college students and people who cleave to less traditional approaches to living in Boston -- some saw in Mr. Butch a latter-day Thoreau, a man who chose a life that didn't involve taxes, rent, or office cubicles.
Joseph Barbera, half of the famous Hanna and Barbera, died of natural causes yesterday at the age of 95. This duo is responsible for some of the most famous and beloved cartoons of all time: Tom and Jerry, the Jetsons, Yogi Bear....the list is pretty long. There have been several movies made based on Hanna-Barbera cartoons including Scooby-Doo, Josie and the Pussycats, and The Flintstones (the Flintstones, for the record, was the first cartoon ever aired in prime time). They made tons of other cartoons we all loved as kids, spread over half a century. In going over the long list of characters they created in preparation for this post, I found several I had no idea they'd made, including the Smurfs and the Snorks (sorta the same, I know). They'd even made one of my all-time favorite non-animated shows from my childhood: the Banana Splits.
I wasn't sure who this guy was when I read the report that he'd died. The article mentioned something about him being on SNL (another tragic SNL death) and being thrown off and banned after dropping an F-bomb on live TV. So I looked and found a picture of this guy and, low and behold, he was one of those actors who you've seen in a bunch of movies prompting you to say "oh, it's THAT guy".
After looking at his IMDB filmography, I was reminded of where I'd seen him before; some notable roles included those in "Dances with Wolves", "How I Got Into College" (I actually saw this in the theater...), "Short Cuts", "Dumb and Dumber", and my personal favorite, "Earth Girls Are Easy". This last one is one of the most underrated movies of all time, featuring an all-star cast including Geena Davis, Jim Carrey, Jeff Goldblum, Damon Wayans, and the other, not-downtown Julie Brown. You can't beat alien slapstick in primary colors, now can you?
This movie also holds a special place in my heart, as it was what I saw the very first day I hooked an entire day of school. I went to the Copley mall with this kid named Eric (I don't think I ever saw him again), saw a couple of older girls (maybe 14 or 15 years old) and, with a pre-adolescent burst of hutzpa asked them to come watch that movie with us. They agreed, provided we paid for them to get in. We did, and no sooner had we gotten into the old Copley theater than the girls "went to the bathroom", never to be seen again....
Maybe we should have taken them to see Batman instead...
He's one of the names forever linked to the Red Sox uniform. Though he was given his most recognizable moniker because of his looming stature and blazing fastball, and was even known for a short while as the less acceptable "Creature" on an WEEI show, he never struck me as one with an attitude problem or undesirable disposition in any way. He was a big man with a big smile, and he grew even bigger as he got older, both in size and reputation; I can see how opposing batters may have felt a bit intimidated as they looked out to the mound and saw him. He was one of if not the most successful relievers of his time, a time where stats like "saves" had a different definition. The man had 181 strikeouts as a reliever in 1964. I never saw him play, but I have had the pleasure of listening to his scratchy but cheerful voice as he was a regular on TV postgame shows, local radio shows, and Red Sox related events.
Many stories and factoids are told of Radatz, and many artcles will undoubtedly be written about him as a result of his untimely death. Here, for what they are worth, are my favorite Radatz factoid and my favorite Raditz-related memory.
Mickey Mantle, the Yankee great who is unquestionably one of the greatest all-around ballplayers of all-time, was the man who gave Radatz his ominous nickname, and he had good reason to think of this opposing pitcher this way. For his career, Mantle was 1-66 against Radatz, with 1HR and 44K. Unreal. I guess Radatz had Mantle's number, eh?
I remember one afternoon listening to WEEI in the afternoon, and the guests that day included Rico Petricelli, in studio, and Dennis Eckersley via phone. At one point Eck said something about relievers, and I think Radatz in particular, that really pissed off Rico, who promptly challenged Eck to come down to the station to "discuss the matter further". Nobody messes with the Monster, Hall of Fame or not, at least not when his former teammates are around, testament to the quality of both his pitching ability and his character.
Everyone in Red Sox nation as well as anyone who knows the game of baseball will miss Dick Radatz. He will always be Fenway's most famous and revered Monster, as far as I'm concerned.
Content found on The Neoteric is of no particular genre, topic, or focus, other than it was all at some point, in some way, interesting enough to me to write about.
After looking at his 
