The Unauthorized Biography of Rosco P. Coltrane

When it's my moment in the sun, I won't forget that I am blessed, but every hero walks alone, thinking of more things to confess

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Location: Owensboro, Kentucky, United States


Saturday, August 20, 2005

Going To The Derby

Ain't no mint juleps at this derby, not tonight...

I can't wait...

Thursday, August 18, 2005

Bobble Head Night

I grew up a Reds fan. My first major league baseball game was at Riverfront Stadium in 1989 when the L.A. Dodgers played the Reds. I remember staying up late to watch the Reds eventually win the 1990 World Series. It was the best moment of my then 13 year old life.

But when my friend and fellow Reds fanatic, Ryan, died, I was disheartened. He stuck up for Pete Rose for all those years. But after a few years, I grew to the realization that Pete lied and my dead friend went to his grave defending a liar. That along with the strike of 1994, I stopped following baseball, especially the Reds.

I eventually started to watch baseball again, but instead of putting back on a Reds hat, I switched allegiance to the Red Sox.

But I heard about this story a few weeks ago that makes me want to root for the Reds again. These new Reds did a good thing for a kid in a bad situation. Something that I am sure the former owner, Marge, would not have let them do because she was a cheapskate.

Little Antonio Perez went to the ballgame a few weeks back with his grandfather. His grandfather had a heart attack during the 7th inning. The boy was whisked away from the EMT's working on his grandfather. A security guard took him into the bullpen and the players entertained him. When word got out that his grandfather had died and that his mother was on the way to the ballpark, the players took the little kid into the clubhouse and showered him with gifts. He returned to the ballpark a couple of nights ago, and once again the Reds showered the boy with gifts. Gifts that will never replace his grandfather, but will at least make him smile.

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

Zen and The Art of Slim Goodbody

I wish there was a PBS Classics Channel. I would watch it all the time.

I am convinced that 1980's PBS was by far the best television ever produced. Maybe it is the fact that most of today's television is boring reality shows. Maybe it is just the nostalgia factor.

But 1980's PBS was the best. I know the teachers thought so. They could wheel in one of those huge televisions into the classroom, dim the lights, put on KET (Kentucky Educational Television), and go have a smoke.

There were so many shows.

There was a young Ben Affleck in Voyage of the Mimi who was a troubled young boy sent out to sea with his uncle. At the end of each episode he would relay some knowledge that he had picked up like what starboard and port meant.

I remember there was also a show about a librarian that fell asleep one day in her bookmobile. When she woke up she found that the human race had been wiped out and aliens in very bad costumes were trying to vanquish another race of aliens by researching things in the library using the Dewey Decimal System. No one believes me when I talk about this show. But I swear it existed.

Of course there was 3-2-1-Contact who always featured the Bloodhound Gang. There was Mr. Rogers who along with Captain Kangaroo is on the Mount Rushmore of Children's TV.

Who could forget the Electric Company?

But the image that will forever be scared in my memory is that of one Slim Goodbody.

Here is this guy with a skintight bodysuit and a bad perm. He would teach us all about the digestive system and the right way to use a toothbrush. Though, for us 3rd grade boys it was always a bit on the confusing side to see where Slim's large intestine ended.

Now, looking back on the entire phenomenon that was, and actually still is, Slim Goodbody, I think two things:

That whole flesh-colored bodysuit is a little bit creepy for children's TV shows...

But, you have to give it to ol' Slim, 20 some odd years of running around in said body suit takes some real, well, uh, body parts that are conspicuously not painted on...

Tuesday, August 16, 2005

The Gourd Champion of Daviess County

Many summers ago, I was the gourd champion of Daviess County. I didn't really earn it. My next door neighbor, Chester, grew the gourds. I picked out a couple of them and put them in a basket. I entered them in the Lions Club County Fair. A few weeks later, my name was in the paper as the 1st place entry in mixed gourds. A few weeks after that, I got a check in the mail. My mom wouldn't let me keep the check. She made me give it to Chester. I didn't want to, but it was the right thing to do. Looking back, I'm glad she made me do it.

It's weird, I have no idea why that memory slapped me in the fact this morning, but it did.

28 Years...