Let's See The Oscars Top This!!!

Didn't get to see much of this year's Oscar telecast or the red carpet nonsense, but it didn't really matter because here in Rochester, NY, the awards season has also hit fever pitch (Why not? Kodak, which is headquartered here, is rapidly going down the tubes, so there isn't much else to get excited about.), culminating with the pinnacle of awards events. I'm referring, of course, to -- you guessed it -- Miss Biddle's Annual Second Grade Elementary School Awards...

Each year seems to bring some new surprises, and 2012 was no exception. This year's race was probably the closest ever in the "Outstanding Achievement in seeing who can go the longest without crying for no apparent reason" category. This year, little Tiffany Gottlieb just eked out the win over Tracy O'Malley by a teardrop.... Her record was a seemingly superhuman two hours, 42 and a half minutes... Unfortunately, during her acceptance speech she completely broke down, thus forcing the judges to nearly pull the award when they began to  reconsider whether or not she actually deserved it in the first place.

In another highly-visible competition this year, Little Billy Ives ran away with the honors in the "No pulling his female classmates' pigtails" category. Of course, we'll see how well he's able to maintain his sense of self-control and will power in a few years when he gets to seventh grade and is up for the "No pulling his female classmates bra straps" award.

On a sad note, everyone paused for a moment of silence to remember Whitney... No, not Whitney Houston; Whitney, the class's pet goldfish who accidentally got flushed when they were changing the water in the aquarium a couple of weeks ago.

One final thing: the awards weren't as well attended this year by outsiders as in the past. With the new security measures that have been put in place at the school, a lot of grandparents were turned away at the door when their artificial hips set off the metal detectors.

At any rate, a good time was had by all, and when it was over everyone, winners and losers alike, let down their hair and set down their backpacks at The Principal's Ball at Chuck E. Cheese... And in the words of Miss Biddle (as she coincidentally also tells those who don't make it into the third grade): "Thanks for coming! See you next year!"

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"Every weirdo in the world is on my wavelength."

-- Thomas Pynchon

Hey Regis, How's That Retirement Thing Working Out For You?

This weekend marks three monhs since that icon of daytime TV, Regis Philbin, left LIVE WITH REGIS AND KELLY, and left us all (hopefully as far as he was concerned) begging for more.

Well, like anyone who has left a longstanding job and is finally settling in for some time off during those golden years,  I got to wondering how ol' Reege might be making out.  You may recall when he left that he never said he was retiring -- only that he was leaving the show and  would be back with another project -- or two -- or none.

But just as we saw happen  with Johnny Carson,  there's been nary a sign of our  beloved Irish Italian TV personality since that fateful day in November, when Regis' TV career suffered the same fate as our Thanksgiving turkeys would the following week.  So  I got to wondering how things were going for him since then, and thanks to some "inside" info (inside my head), I found out the following which I think is important to relate to any Regis fans out there:

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... It started about a week or so later after  the big finale.  Oh, sure, he believed that he was going to be fine and there wouldn't be any problem making the  big adjustment to staying home all day with nothing more important to do than fill out the NY Times crossword puzzle and try to figure out how the remote control for the TV works... But then came the late night insomnia, the long walks during the wee small hours of the morning, padding around the dark halls and corridors of his apartment, clad oly in a loose-fitting robe and slippers (or less) looking at the pictures, honors and awards hanging there on the walls and talking to the portraits of Knute Rockne, Lou Holtz and Robert DeNiro (just as Nixon did in the White House during Watergate) -- hoping that somehow, some way, one of them would answer back... 

He stops in front of the portrait of Lou Holtz.

"Lou, I'm telling ya, I can't take it.  There's nobody to talk to, nobody to harrass, no one to make fun of!  Not even that damn wheel that I had installed that drops from the celing for me to spin whenever the phone rings is doing it for me!"... 

 He pads down the hallway and pauses for a moment in front of Knute.

"Knute, you're the greatest!  Tell me, what would it take for me to be the greatest again?... I mean when it came to daytime TV, I was it -- the tops!...  No one could tell a better silly story than me, no one could  bitch and complain about their family members better than me, no one could  do such a great job of making a total ass out of himself in front of millions of people on a daily basis than me!  I tell you I was The King at doing that stuff, baby, The King!"

On to DeNiro. 

"Bobby, you gotta tell me -- what do I have to do to get back on TV again?  I mean one shot on Rachael Ray since I left?  That's not gonna cut it for me, Bobby!  This boy needs some ACTION!... Letterman won't let me on...   I can't even get Kathie freakin' Lee to give me two measly minutes on that winefest that she and that Hoda or Yoda or whatever the hell her name is do every day!  And do you think that The Donald will return my calls? I mean, just one little shot on THE APPRENTICE for Godsakes!  What the hell do I have to do to get him to notice me again --  run for President?...  I tell you, I'm dyin' here, Bobby, I'm dyin'!  I gotta go back in that bedroom  now with nothing more to look forward to than spend the rest of the night lying there wide awake with the sound of Joy snoring directly into my EAR!  It's like listening to the ocean all night long -- and you know how afraid I am of water!"...

As daylight dawns, following his usual routine breakfast of dry toast, runny eggs and a glass of Benefiber, he's drawn into  what has now become an addictively habitual behavior. 

He picks up the phone, dials and waits for someone to answer.

..."Hello, Gelman?... It's me.... Whaddya mean, 'Who's me?'... It's REGIS!... Gelman, don't tell me you don't recognize my voice, Gelman!  It's only been three months... And after all those messages I left that you didn't respond to?....  Look, Gelman I'm asking you for the last time --  you've  got to  let me back on the show!... Yeah, well I don't care if you're considering  Josh Groban or George Clooney as cohost.  I don't care if you're considering Jesus Christ or Larry the freakin' Cable Guy  for Godsake!... Gelman, I can't take it any more!  I turn on the TV in the morning -- that is when I can figure out how to work the damn remote -- and  I'm not there!  All there is to watch is trash, Gelman, trash!  I'm telling you, who wants to see Snooki from The freakin' Jersey Shore preparing a dinner party on MARTHA STEWART,  or Joan Rivers making fun of what Elton John wore to last night's awards show?  Gelman, that's not TV, it's garbage!.... Tell me, Gelman, who was the real star on LIVE?  Who held that show together all those years?  Who went  to management and saved your sorry skinny ass more often than anyone will ever know?... Tha-a-at's right, Gelman!  It was me, baby, old Regis!...  I'm tellin' ya, Gelman, what America needs more than ever right now is THIS -- The King, baby -- The King!!... Hello?.... Hello?.... "


He  slowly puts the phone back down in its cradle as he realizes the inevitable has happened, and quietly sobbing to himself, mutters softly "Is this the freakin' end of Regis?"....


Hey, Reege, a word of advice:  Enjoy your money and your time.  And if you really need something to do that badly, Walmart is always looking for greeters.

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"Every weirdo in the world is on my wavelength."


-- Thomas Pynchon