Thank you, “Scrubs”

I just watched the season finale of “Scrubs” the other night, and I was actually very touched. It had just the right amount of laughter and tears, as well as a bit of nudging of my personal self-reflections, that made me think out loud, “Wow—what a great series…”
Like most popular shows that I fall in love with, I arrived late in the game, only having seriously devoted myself to the show sometime in the summer of last year. I remember in 2001, when I first moved to California and I was “couchman” in a townhouse apartment in Redondo Beach with a bunch of crazy 23 year-old stoner surfers (or surfing stoners—I wasn’t 100% clear on that—but it was still a blast!), one of my roommates, Scottie and I caught a few minutes of the then-brand new show. Scottie mentioned that it was supposed to be a pretty funny show, to which I nodded some kind of acknowledgement. That was it. For the next seven years of channel-surfing, mindless TV escapes, and late-night vegetations, I’d see “Scrubs” occasionally pop up, but I never lingered. I dismissed the show as fast as my finger could hit the remote buttons. Finally—after life took me to the cultural gulag that is Firebaugh, CA with the Lovely Mrs. Shoehead—I happened to land on a “Scrubs” episode, and immediately I was hooked. The characters were all quirky and intriguing; the writing exceptional; gags and storylines were top-notch; realism and absurdity blended perfectly. The show had heart, but never took itself too seriously. I voraciously auto-tuned and devoured every episode I could.
So as the final episode aired this past week, protagonist Dr. John Dorian (J.D.) played by Zack Braff was finally leaving Sacred heart Hospital after eight years of memories, emotions, and human drama. His best friend (and borderline boyfriend) Dr. Christopher Turk, played by Donald Faison, as well as his girlfriend, Dr. Elliott Reid, played by the ever-hot Sarah Chalke were on hand to commemorate his final day. J.D. laments that his last day of a very remarkable time in his own life, is treated as basically just another day at the hospital by the rest of the staff; including—most painfully—his mentor, Dr. Perry Cox (John C. McGinley) As J.D. finally walks out of Sacred Heart for the last time, memorable characters, dead and alive (including Hooch!), line the halls to bid him farewell, J.D. finally getting a send-off to cap his eight years at the hospital.
It was a great ending for a show that really did give me a lot personally. It lifted me up when I was feeling at a low point; it opened up my imagination and my mind to endless possibilities; it taught me some skills and renewed my resolve as an actor; and most importantly, never failed to make me laugh. So I want to thank Bill Lawrence and all the producers of the show, Zack Braff and the rest of the cast, and everyone who had a hand in making that show what it was (including my friend Kateri, who I saw as “Nurse Mop-top” in one episode.) So, kudos on a well executed series, and thanks again for what “Scrubs” meant to me.

I must blog on…

While I still mourn the ousting of Alison Iraheta, I really need to get back on the stick and continue on, albeit difficult. Must… keep… blogging… As of right now, Shoehead’s World is in a bit of a nebulous phase; a time of uncertainty. I’m on leave from my prison job, and I just spoke with one of the producers of “Co-ed Confidential” about the shooting schedule for the long-awaited season 4. Now, as much as I love my clients in the prison—some absolutely wonderful women, seriously trying to change their lives around—my heart was never completely in the job. I came to California in 2001 with a purpose. I was to further my acting career, which was making slow but steady progress on the East Coast, and add the new dimension of screenwriter and producer. I made some great inroads, and met a lot of great people in the film industry, but I really feel like I just scratched the surface of achieving my goals. Along the line I was a marijuana smuggler, towel guy at a gym, truck driver, warehouse worker, shipping and receiving guy, bartender, and now a drug counselor—all of which added to the pantheon of stories to fuel my screenwriting. I also met “the girl of my dreams”—the Lovely Mrs. Shoehead—who, while a sweetie, never fully grasped the passion, focus, and drive needed to attain everything I’ve worked for the last several years. She couldn’t quite grasp why I’d prefer fetching coffees and sweeping floors on a movie set to making $15/hour shipping in some warehouse in Chatworth. So, while now I’m 250 miles away from my industry, and I’m seeing friends of mine popping up on TV shows and movies, while I drag my ass to a literal prison every day (thanks for the perfect metaphor, God!), my Spidey-sense is tingling and telling me to make a few drastic changes. First of all, I had always believed in the unlimited potential of the human spirit. Applied to myself, I’m trying to get back to the mindset that the only thing limiting me is me. I have determination, drive, a little creativity; people usually tend to like me, I get along with almost everyone I meet; so there’s no reason I can’t set out and start attacking my goals in a systematic, focused fashion.
One of the ways I’m taking the reins on my life’s direction is by going back to writing every day, including blogging. I really love putting this blog out there, and I know I have at least a couple of readers. This totally unlocks my creativity, lets my mind open up and flow, and gives me a sense of purpose. I also believe that now that I have perhaps five or more readers, I have to at least write a B- blog. At the very least. Because another of my personal beliefs is to always maintain a standard of excellence. I think that’s something that a lot of people these days don’t really think about, lest adhere to. And I think it’s sad. But, since I can only work my own program, I’m going to really make an effort to carry myself with a new sense of excellence; write a blog that I would want to read if it were someone else’s, and commit to furthering my goals in a steady, determined manner. There’s a book on ancient Toltec wisdom that I read three years ago called “The Four Agreements”, and my brother and I actually tried to implement those agreements into our lives. One of the agreements is to always be excellent, and I’m going to reinstate that agreement. So I hope this was an excellent blog; I’m now going to have an excellent cup of coffee, and try to excellently decide if I’m returning to the prison or not. Excellent!

Adieu, my Alison…

It was something I was awaiting with dread—the ousting of my favorite little 17 year old red-haired rocker, Alison Iraheta. And so it did finally occur last night, as America just didn’t push enough buttons for the crooning cutie. I myself am guilty of not dialing. (If she lost by one vote, I’ll really be pissed… Sorry, Alison—I’m still your biggest fan!) She took it well, and she did make fourth place out of hundreds of thousands of aspirants. Plucky, and obviously a good sport, she gracefully bowed out with her Janis Joplin number, “Cry Baby”. The last girl in this season’s competition then exited the stage, leaving three dudes vying for the big win.
I had been pulling for her for almost the entire competition. During the auditions, and Hollywood week, she remained under the radar with the producers and the camera operators. I noticed her bright red “notice me” hair, and saw that she was sorta troll-doll cute, but it wasn’t until the final 12 (oops—13. Sorry, Anoop!) when I first caught a performance did I realize just how talented this little rocker really is. And then, as the other contestants, particularly other females began to fall, I realized that she might just go all the way. But as recent weeks found her in the bottom three, and Simon’s obvious and very vocal disdain for her, I knew that her weeks on the show were soon at an end. And last night, these fears were actualized. Sigh…
Now, I haven’t written her off for good. I believe she’ll be a very successful recording artist, and help keep the blues-rock genre still remain afloat in the ocean of hip-hop, ultra-commercial R&B, and cheesey mainstream crap-rock. She’ll do the Idol tour, and make her appearances on subsequent Idol episodes. But now I don’t really feel like I have a reason to watch the next two weeks. It’s pretty clear that musical-theatre Adam Lambert is gonna win the whole pie. While he has a pretty good voice, and is definitely an entertainer, there doesn’t seem to be anything genuine about him. Everything is a performance. This whole “American Idol” thing for him is just a big audition. He’s trying to play a “rocker”—complete with the perfect “rocker” hair (which he has to return to Liza Minelli when the season ends), perfect “rocker” clothes, and perfect “rocker” attitude. He is a good actor, that’s for sure. He’s convinced enough people that he really is a “rocker”. I just can’t really envision in the years to come, real rock-n-roll people lining up to see an Adam Lambert concert. I see the same demographic that lines up to see a Hannah Montana concert buying these tickets, but the metalheads and the serious rockers that I’ve known all my life… I just don’t see it. Unless Queen got my earlier blog, and is considering him for their reunion tour, playing the Freddie Mercury spot. I might even line up and buy a ticket for that!

Rivers and Rivers

Oy, vey! Last night’s “Celebrity Apprentice” once and for all demolished any shred of respect I had for Joan Rivers. After clinger-on daughter Melissa was voted off, in a somewhat surprising decision, I thought that I would enjoy the ensuing meltdown. But as the drama unfurled, and Melissa threw a tantrum that surpassed even reality-show standards, my shädenfreude-driven glee soon turned to discomfort as disturbed mother Joan joined her ousted daughter in a shameless breakdown. It actually became downright disturbing. Profanity-laden, personal attacks erupting as Rivers and Rivers furiously scrambled to make the most dramatic angry exit possible; screaming at P.A.’s to GIVE THEM THEIR F'ING PURSES RIGHT NOW, and explosively informing segment producers there would NOT be an exit interview NO F’ING WAY!!! Sheesh! The funny thing is, the pair acted as if this was actually a real job! Don’t they get to go back to their lives and their “real” careers now?

Over the last few weeks, Mama Rivers really seemed to lose it as the game went on. For some reason she became fixated on poker champ Annie Duke, who skillfully used her poker-playing acumen to do amazingly well in the game. Madame Joan increasingly leveled personal attacks on Ms. Duke, becoming more nasty and vitriolic as the show went on. I’ve witnessed cut-throatedness, and personal vendettas on this show before, but never to the level of almost psychotic fixation that Ms. Rivers was displaying. It had gotten to the point of being pathetic, and it was soon obvious a complete meltdown was imminent. I’m not sure whose idea it was to put these two together on the show anyway, as I’ve blogged about before. Especially when they were placed on opposing teams. Joan could not restrain herself from overprotecting her daughter, and this led to a somewhat compromised team loyalty. And then poor Annie Duke! She became Joan’s white whale. While definitely as cut-throat and scheming as you’d expect from a million-dollar poker champion, Annie never acted the Hitler, whore, bottom-feeder, scum, slime, and all other epithets Ms. Joan accused her of being. Every other contestant knew this show is a game, and the ousted took their oustings with grace and sportsmanship—including my favorite, the kute Khloe Kardashian. Joan took this game way too seriously, and gave no regard to how petulant, petty, and just plain nuts she came across to the viewing audience of approximately 20 million.

Now, Melissa… Hmmmm. I’d have expected Mama Joan to throw out her dignity and treat us to a huge tantrum, but I really didn’t expect Melissa to blow the gasket like she did. Now I do see that she is truly her mother’s daughter. I watched as she tried vainly to keep her cool, but with each second her anger overtook her. She even broke the cardinal rule of snapping off on Donald Trump (gasp!) in the boardroom, and subsequently scurried out the door, cursing everyone as she went. Joan followed her out—porting about six shopping bags and totes, looking like she was going down to 5th avenue to finish her shopping. I’d like to say I’m gonna miss the drama of having these two on the show, but I really won’t. The creepiness factor has been finally eliminated (at least one element), and the last contestants can now finish out the game with competitiveness and good, clean cut-throatedness. (Unless Jesse James punches out Clint Black—fingers crossed!)

What a day I had...

I had some chest pains, and my doctor told me if that happened, go straight to the E.R. (not the TV series) so I got to the hospital at 7:00 am, and didn't get out til 2:30 pm! And I was stabbed and drawn blood from like six times! BUT, when I got really hungry, they did feed me. It was the 'cardio" plate, and it was pretty good—the Jello™ was superb! Finally, they let me go. All-in-all it was not a bad experience. The prison I work at sends our inmates there, so I actually saw some of the correctional officers I knew from A-yard, so we BS'd for a minute. And I gave huge kudos for my E.R. doctor, and nurse Jen, too. both of them were super cool! Not having quite enough of the hospital setting, I came home and watched a "Scrubs" re-run. Yay!
(I really feel like a cold beer right about now. Would that be a bad idea? Hmmmm...)

I couldn't take it any longer!

I had to call in sick from prison this morning. I was feeling crappy, and I was still pissed at not getting my scheduled day off, and I think that made my blood pressure go redline. So I took the day off, and was thinking about going to the "Tea Party" in Fresno, to show support for my fed-up tax-paying fellow citizens. But I didn't. As a Libertarian, I'm all for the protest. If I felt better, I really would've gone. Anyway, I think it's a great thing they've done, and I hope it sends a message to the current regime. I'm just gonna drink a shot of Nyquil™ and fade off into Happy Dreamland...

Tuesday kinda sucked...

Man, all I can say is, I was supposed to be off today. I switched my day off so a co-worker could attend a wake, and the powers-that-be made me jump through hoops and finally gave me Friday off to make up for it. THEN they didn't even let my friend off to go to her wake anyway!!! After all that!!!
So the morning started out sucky. the usual--all work, 100% hassle--finally lunch came. After lunch, it did turn around after I held my counseling group. My awesome clients brought me back from despair! So now I'm home, and it's my Tuesday ritual--Heinekins and Idol. Yay! My prediction-- So long, Anoop!

My Zillion-Dollar Idea!

OK, As I was watching an old Queen concert from Wembley Stadium 1986, I came up with an amazing idea, that I think will be, as the kids say--"da bomb!" Basically we need the remaining Queen guys to re-form, and get American Idol contestant Adam Lambert to be the new lead singer, as a half-decent replacement for Freddie Mercury. It would be perfect! And ya just know Adam would love the whole theatrical gig, plus the vocal stylings! Someone call Brian May! get Roger Taylor and John Deacon! Let's make this thing happen!!!

Remember, you first heard it from your ol' pal Shoehead...

Politics, again???

As much as I loathe politics, and really don’t like to make this a political blog, I almost can’t help it. They really do shove politics down your throat, and by “down your throat”, I really mean “up your ass”; and by “they”, I really mean “the media”. It’s bad enough that you can’t escape the nonstop political coverage continually harassing you when you’re just trying and live your life, and get through your day. But the fact that the media outlets basically have thrown out all vestiges of objectivity, abandoned what was once considered a quest for the truth, and unashamedly turned into a propaganda vessel. It would be one thing if they held both sides accountable; if they really did truthfully and fairly act as watchdogs for the public’s behalf, as they purport to be. Holding equally accountable Democrats as well as Republicans, and pursuing the abuses of power and erosions of freedoms on both sides with the same fervor. But that’s not the case. Instead, we basically get 24/7 Obama-love blasting at us, in a non-stop Orwellian campaign to force us to embrace him; selling us on the idea that he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to America, the world, you, me, and our children’ children. YOU… WILL… LOVE… THIS MAN!

Which leads me to ask the question, why is it that when Obama takes a public crap (such as asking a wounded soldier on the battlefield to hand the medic an insurance card, or cracking a Special Olympics joke—two recent examples) and then apologizes or retracts it, it vanishes almost instantly; whereas if any Republican—particularly George Bush, but really any Republican—makes any kind of misstep, or misspeak, or even proposes an unpopular policy decision, the chorus of petulant outrage blares throughout the land for weeks on end, relentlessly? They know they do it, our “news” anchors, reporters, and pundits. But do they feel any ethic shame for having abandoned core principles like that? Do these “journalists” have any shred of recalcitrance for basically regarding the American public as a bunch of submissive, irrelevant imbeciles? Sadly, after several generations of graduates from the indoctrination centers known as our public schools demonstrate, many of them are. But I still love America. I love the American people—all our quirkiness, superficiality, and stupid reality TV shows aside. I find it difficult to grasp that as a nation, we have all become the idiots that these media people treat us like. We are still a great nation, despite what the media and the Democrats try to portray us as.

My dear readers who personally know me, know that I’m not a disgruntled Republican with a petulant axe to grind. I’m a solid Libertarian, with a principled belief in adhering to constitutional tenets, and a deep concern for the preservation of individual freedoms. I almost never vote for Republicans, rather against Democrats. My gripe in today’s blog is that the press should hold both parties equally accountable, and bring back the journalistic standards they abandoned somewhere around the Kennedy administration. Is that a lot to ask? It seems to be almost impossibility these days.

Celebrity Apprentice-- the Diceman Goeth

I like NBC’s “The Apprentice”. Not only do I find it an entertaining show, I have a couple of connections to it as well. First of all I worked on the season that they came to L.A. (I was a transpo driver. Yay! It was a blast!). Secondly, my awesome company, ACN has a relationship with Donald Trump. He’s not only tried to purchase our company several times (Imagine saying no to Donald Trump? I love ACN!), he’s a staunch endorser of our products and our company. So much so, that he’s featuring us and our flagship product, the IRIS 300 videophone, on March 22nd’s episode of “Apprentice”.
So last night I tuned in to see the show, having missed last week’s season opening, just to get primed, and make an assessment of the show. I think Mr. Trump and Mark Burnett made a really good decision when they modified the format to become a celebrity/charity show. I think after several seasons of watching unknown M.B.A.’s vying for a top executive position in TrumpWorld, we were all ready for something new. Kudos on this new format, that’s for sure.
So as I watched this season unfold, and perused this season’s lineup of “celebrities”, I found a few that raised my eyebrows, and left me questioning. Some of the choices were great. Clint Black, Scott Hamilton, Bryan McKnight, even Playmate Brande Roderick were nice picks, and you feel that they bring something to the table. Then you got poker champion Annie Duke, whom at first I thought, “Why her? She’s a celebrity now?” But I realized that I had seen her play before, and in the poker universe, which is huge, she is very well-known and recognizable. Plus, the very nature of her livelihood depends on her being sharp, ruthless, and highly competitive. That made sense. Jesse James added a hip, lowbrow attitude, and certainly fits the contestant profile, having created a successful business before becoming a celebrity (also thanks to a “reality” show). Herschel Walker and Dennis Rodman add a dimension that they bring over from the sports world that is perfect for the show. Both at the top of their respective sports—Walker being no-nonsense, Rodman being pretty much all-nonsense. Ersatz comedian Tom Green was a pleasant surprise. At first I balked at his appearance in the game. I never liked his comedic work; never really understood the guy, and he always seemed to be just kinda out there, like Crispin Glover (who, thank God, is not in this season’s show). But he comes off in the show as being very likeable, and down-to-earth, as well as a serious competitor. He may just be my new favorite contestant. We’ll see… Now we finally get to some of my more questionable picks. First off, a “Deal-Or-No-Deal” model? OK, she’s hot. I mean, really, really hot. But a celebrity? Shrug... Then we get to Khloe Kardashian. This choice totally smacks of her publicist pulling favors to get her some visibility. For some ungodly reason, her sister Kim is now a celebrity, and dammit it’s her turn! OK, I do believe she owns a clothing store, so maybe there is a modicum of reason to bring her onboard, but it still really seems like a publicist’s coup, and nothing more. (By the way, who is her publicist? I need a publicist like that, too!) Ah, next up—Joan Rivers and her now symbiotic daughter, Melissa. What is the deal with these two? Is there no bigger example of unabashed coat-tail riding than this? Having one, and only one of the two would have been fine. Joan is a comedic legend, and a tried-and-true New Yorker, just like The Donald. (Do they still call him that?) Casting Melissa alone, would’ve at least demonstrated that she’s at last made it. The umbilical’s cut. Finally, she’s attained the caché of at least a “Deal-Or-No-Deal” model, or a top female poker player. But to have both Rivers and Rivers on the show together just seems self-indulgent, unnecessary, and let’s face it— kinda creepy.
But, I’ve saved the best for last. Let me preface this by saying that there’s a difference between staying consistent and true to yourself, and just plain being an unevolved, one-note song. Andrew Dice Clay, who made me roll on the floor in hysterical laughter in 1989, seemed about as pointless and irrelevant on 2009’s “Celebrity Apprentice” as anything I could imagine. Despite his best attempts, there was absolutely nothing funny about the guy, and actually, he seemed rather bitter. At the same time, he was acting as a complete primadonna, as if he were still some kind of A-list talent. Actually griping directly to Mr. Trump that there were no free bagels laid out, in a city where you can throw a rock blindfolded and hit a bagel shop! (Pettiness, party of one—your table’s ready!) During a challenge to sell cupcakes, he contributed nothing to the team, and was more concerned about looking cool than suiting up in baking attire with his team; finally ducking out to do a radio show appearance—telling his team he’d promote and bring crowds to their cupcake truck. Because you just can not find crowds in New York City. Subsequently the team lost the cupcake challenge. “The Diceman” also painfully—not once, but twice—directly threw jabs at Mr. Trump that were met with an embarrassing silence, as Donald quickly shifted focus away from Dice. Not only was the embarrassing silence felt in the boardroom, but in the living rooms of millions of Americans watching the show, too. Defending his position, he reminded people that he sold out Madison Square Garden like, three times (in 1989) and finally tried to stave off being ceremoniously “fired” by Mr. Trump by doing mediocre impressions of John Travolta’s “Barbarino” character, and Sylvester Stallone’s “Rocky” character. Timely, cutting-edge stuff. Thankfully, Mr. Trump spared us another week of this torture by dropping his trademark “You’re fired!” on Mr. Diceman. On his way out, a receptionist in Trump Tower shot him down when he asked her for a date as well. Utterly painful—and yet, I feel a certain pity for this deluded has-been. This man is completely clueless.
Hey, Dice—1989 called. They want you back!

A real tough cookie!

As usual, on this season’s 24, if everyone just listened to Jack Bauer for a change, they wouldn’t be in this mess. You’d think after countless presidents and agency heads, they’d learn to at least hear Jack out, but no…
I came into 24 kinda late. When the series first debuted in 2001, I found it hard to get into. The big sell of the show, at the time, was “Oooh, it’s in real-time! Minute-by-minute action!” Yawn. Really? And then the few times I would catch a segment of the show, and see the unstoppable Jack Bauer drive from Northridge down to Long Beach in 10 minutes right in the middle of the day, left me asking, “Have these writers even been on the 405?” It wasn’t until several years later, around 2005 or 2006 to be exact, when I happened to catch a rerun of a later season, with Jack in a stressful chase in the dead of night—with the loveably cute, perennially pouty Chloe O’Brien running comm—did I get reeled in. I then had to go back, and load up my Netflix with all previous seasons to get myself up to speed. I couldn’t watch those episodes fast enough. I learned to throw out all realism, and improbabilities, and just lock into the storylines, plot twists, and action. (Although I still entertain myself with the idea of one of the characters stuck in traffic for an entire episode, and while the action is ongoing, we keep cutting back to him sitting in his car, stressed out and looking at his watch.) I even bought into the idea that Presidents of the United States hang out in hip, chic L.A. way more than stodgy ol’ D.C. Hey, why not?
So I think the writers and producers finally said, “Y’know, after eleventeen seasons of Jack chasing terrorists and embarrassing presidents all over L.A., we should really consider shooting at least one season in D.C.” Which brings us to the current season, where as of this writing, six African soldiers have broken in and taken over the White House, bitch-slapping President Allison Taylor right on cable news! While the plot definitely has me inextricably hooked, I think the problem that I’m having with this season is the portrayal of (presumably) the first female president. Since this hasn’t happened in real life yet (Hang in there Sarah Palin; keep the dream alive!), Hollywood writers are basically left to create a character based on speculation, and a little bit of wishful thinking. So to counter the image of a soft, nurturing and motherly type, the writers have to come up with a strong female figure to portray what they think a female president should be like. I’ve also seen this in other portrayals of female presidents. They try to make her out to be some kind of “tough cookie” no-nonsense type. But it’s not real strength, like a Margaret Thatcher or a Golda Meir. It’s Hollywood toughness, which is basically constant yelling, and chewing out your subordinates. It’s being stubborn and unreasonable just to prove a point. It’s for the actress to always look stern and cold, as though she’s in a constant state of disdain. And don’t forget that she always occupies the moral high ground. By invading the fictitious African nation of Sengala to stop a sadistic general’s genocidal army, President Allison Taylor is showing us how we should’ve handled Rwanda and Darfour. (Not Iraq, of course, with its discoveries of mass graves all over the country. There’s oil in Iraq, so therefore it’s strictly hands off.) When trying to catch the main terrorist in a city of 5 million, she barks at her staff, “I don’t care how you find him, just get it done! (Except, don’t let Jack torture anybody. Or break any rules. Or leave a carbon footprint.)” The eunuch that’s running the F.B.I. section of this case is a perfect example of this flaccid method of dealing with evil in our nation.
As usual, Jack Bauer has the last laugh. Although he doesn’t laugh, cuz everyone’s dead. I kinda hope they kill off this president. That would be the kind of shock and intrigue that makes this show so gripping to watch. Maybe, next season, Jack Bauer will be president! He has my vote!

Cut me a little slack…

OK, American Idol has been on for like, four weeks now right? And I haven’t blogged about it at all. (So, I haven’t really blogged about anything, but oh well…) Anyway, I couldn’t resist any longer, as last night’s departure of the utterly repugnant Tatiana Del Toro filled me with so much rich, tasty schädenfreude, I felt a little bit guilty! (Well, just a little…) Her pathetic plea to the nation, “Please help me keep my dream alive!” just didn’t seem to inspire the voting audience members to push the digits in her favor. I knew she couldn’t survive last night’s three out of twelve odds, and I was almost drooling in anticipation of her meltdown as the results unfolded. While the other eight booted contestants graciously contained their disappointment, and gave smiles and congrats to the three winners, Miss Del Toro could barely lift her head from her hands, and couldn’t even join the others in the ending lineup; her dreams of fame, adoration, and a lifestyle of ease and privilege evaporating and fading out like the last notes of a over-played song. I was in fact, a little disappointed in her meltdown. I was hoping--in dramatic Tatiana fashion--her screaming and collapsing on the floor, writhing and kicking right in center stage. That way, she might’ve at least garnered a parting news story blip to cap off her fifteen minutes.
Since the show began, Miss Del Toro had demonstrated an inner ugliness and an unbridled quest for sheer fame that stood out even in a TV show built upon unbridled quests for sheer fame. She presented herself as someone who was entitled to the top Idol spot, with the other contestants annoyingly crowding her stage and her TV show. After she survived the “Group Week”, having dumped her original group, joined another group, and then dumped them for her first group; she launched a babbling monologue about how everyone on the planet was part of her and her world quest for fame. Her fellow group members, whom she was oblivious to even though they were standing arm-in-arm, were looking on incredulously. Priceless!
The truth is, little miss Tatiana shot herself in the foot. She actually could sing fairly well, and probably could’ve held her own if she only didn’t present herself to the voting public as such an ugly parody of Idol aspirants. The show does attract an element of raw ambition, greed, and self-promotion combined with a genuine display of talent, heart, and grace. So as embarrassed as I am to say it, (I’ve overcome my embarrassment for even liking the show a long time ago) I did relish the television demise of Tatiana Del Toro gleefully, perhaps even a little too much. Oh well… I broke the seal. Let’s see what happens next week!
Shoehead… OUT!

Friday the 13th...

What an awesome day. I feel like putting on a goalie mask, grabbing my chainsaw and going crazy!!!
Well, I was off work the past few days, very sick. I heard that the inmates in my program are trying to get by without me. The one cool thing about working in a prison, is that you get to say cool things like, "The yard is down" and "acute fog--limited inmate movement" like I'm on that TV show, OZ or something. Except it's a women's prison! Even better!. I'm going back in tomorrow to do our saturday programming. This is pretty laid back. We only run three groups on Saturdays, with only like 30 inmates all day. The rest of the time is just chillin' and getting paperwork caught up. (I remember when I used to be cool and fun-- what happened???)

It's almost time for me to get back to work on a Hollywood production. I'm jonesin' to get back on set. I'll have to see if my friends in MRG Entertainment are filming "Co-ed Confidential season 4" yet! It'll be good to see my old pals...

Happy Birthday, Abe Lincoln!

2oo years old... thanks for all you did!

One word for this whole thing-- fanaticism.

I know a lot of people are gonna hate me for this, but I really have to speak my mind. I think the scariest thing about the whole Obama thing is the cultish enthusiasm built up around this guy. The only word that comes to mind is fanaticism. People are practically orgasmic over the inauguration festivities, including good friends of mine. (I hope they still remain friends of mine. Great scorn and ostracism are traditionally lavished upon those who oppose the cult by the members of that cult.) Few people are balking at the $100 million+ price tag for this week-long bacchanal, when Bush’s $40 million inauguration was met with criticism, and “how many starving kids would this feed” or “how much education would this pay for” rhetoric. Every nuance of Obie’s coronation is celebrated and marveled at. At the same time, these people still can’t resist throwing jabs at President Bush even in the final moments of his administration. Now, I didn’t support every policy decision Mr. Bush made during his eight years, but I never felt a hatred for the guy like what was heaped upon him right up until the final moments of his term. Conversely, I never felt a devotion to him like Obie’s legions have for their guy either. I don’t think any president of the United States should garner a cult-like following. Even JFK, if you strip away his cultish mystique really was a C- president. (At least he cut taxes. OK, I’ll give him a C+) Good ol’ Jack gave us Vietnam, screwed over the Cuban freedom fighters at The Bay of Pigs, and ushered in LBJ and his “Great Society”. Great. But with lofty speeches, a stylish wife, and an adoring media, he has become an American icon, and-- due to an assassin’s bullet-- an American martyr!
OK, now I’m screwed. I criticized Obama and JFK’s hallowed image in the same blog! I hope I sill have some friends left. Hello… anyone?

Happy Birthday, Grandma!

Me and Hildegard Paar (January 13, 1907--July 28, 1997)

My maternal grandmother, Hilda Paar, would've been 102 this year. Yay, Grandma! This is a picture of her and me (as a dork) in 1994.

Civility? Wha…?

This week, I had the pleasure of witnessing two altercations over some real silly stuff. OK, one included me as an unwilling participant, but still I’m trying to process (a new word I learned as a counselor) this out.
The first happened Saturday afternoon, as I was gassing up. It was rather busy, and there was a car waiting behind me, and one in front of me. I really failed to notice which had gotten there first, but as I finished, the car behind me sent his girl running up to swipe her debit card to claim the pump. Meanwhile, the car in front pulled into the spot. I had just pulled into a parking space, because I went inside to get a beverage. As I looked behind me, both parties were standing around the pump arguing. Pity… I never did get to see the outcome of that incident.
The second one happened this afternoon, about an hour ago. I had just finished picking up some supplies at Wal-Mart (this should tell you something right away), and I pulled my car out into the parking lane, waiting to exit the lot. There was somewhat of a jam toward the lot’s entrance, so I waited behind a minivan. As I sat waiting, it occurred to me that the minivan was not moving. Several cars were lined up behind me by this point, and I thought perhaps the minivan had broken down or something. But that was not the case. The driver was just waiting for one particular spot to clear out. After about seven minutes or so, the car behind me honked his horn, and tried to go around me. I honked my horn as well, because I was starting to get a little impatient. Finally, the car pulled out of the spot, and the minivan pulled into it, giving me a glaring look as she did. So then I pulled up, and was waiting to leave, the 14-year-old kid that was in the car came up to me and said, “You need to learn patience!” I looked at him and shot back, “You need to learn not to be so selfish!” Not wanting to leave it at that, I wished him “Happy Holidays”, and took off out of that infernal lot.
Like I said, I’ve been processing that for the whole afternoon. OK, maybe I was a little impatient, but why would someone hold up five cars just to get a close spot? There just seems to be an overall lack of civility in our society now. I’m also afraid it’ll get worse, as people seem to have an entitlement mentality, and a disregard for others. As if nobody else exists, or has any rights to common courtesy. “Me first, screw you!” is the new mantra. Let’s see how this new era of audacity plays out…

Doing the next-to-impossible!

I set myself a huge set of goals, that I can only meet with the help of the Lord Almighty! It can definitely be accomplished, but for me, it'll be a tough act; requiring more discipline than I've ever had to conjure up before. Here's my twin goals: Executive Team Leader by December 31 (and max out my bonus) and Team Coordinator by March 15 (Again, maxing out my bonus!) If everything goes my way, with God's help, I'll have made $10K and positioned myself to explode when NBC's "Celebrity Apprentice" features ACN on March 22, and Mexico opens up a few weeks after that.
Ready, set, PRAY! Then WORK! Then PRAY some more!
See y'all at the TOP!

Back from ACN Anaheim Convention

As I returned from the amazing Anaheim event, I took a moment to process the experience, and I took away a few insights from the weekend. First of all, I realized that ACN is more than just a company, more than a business. ACN is a family. Every one of the 20,000 attendees actually cared about every single other one in there! I met some of the friendliest, the most committed and the most dedicated people I’ve ever met in my life. I felt like, “These are my people… I’m home!” Every person I met, from all over the world offered to help me develop my team; offering to me any assistance I might need. When I saw people succeed that I’ve never even met, I felt the emotion, and the whole room felt it as well. The senior executives were just as approachable and took time and gave advice and their time to anyone who asked.

The second thing I took away from the event is how ACN is always looking for ways to make our company better; adding the best services and improving both our products and our company infrastructure to be the absolute best, and the most helpful to make all our reps succeed. The four co-founders really do care about every single person that signs a rep agreement. I could tell by watching them, and hearing them speak; as well as first-hand sources that these men are 100% for real. Donald Trump took an instant liking to our co-founders because of their vision, determination and integrity. And as one can imagine, Mr. Trump is such a busy man, that his time is quite limited and valuable. His friendship with our co-founders, and his endorsement of our company is a testament to the excellence, success, vision, and determination of ACN.

The third thing I took away from the event is that as much fun as I had, and the excitement I felt amongst my people, I did spend a lot of time by myself. Some of the members of my team didn’t make it, and my own personal downline is just getting off the ground. So what I learned is, these conventions are way more fun if you bring people, and have a team in place. As I grow my own team, I’m gonna express the importance of these international trainings, and bring my team to all events. It really is a phenomenon that can’t be explained unless you go there yourself. And it’s my commitment to never miss another international. I missed Robert Kiyosaki this past March, and I missed Donald Trump this past June, and I’m kicking myself to this day.

So these are a few insights I took back with me from ACN Anaheim 2008. I’m so excited for the possibilities, and the opportunities that 2009 is gonna bring!

The perils of having an unusual last name...

OK, so I got from my Netflix the video "Kemper" that I worked on last year. Since the Lovely Mrs. Shoehead was busy doing... whatever the hell she does, so I just skipped around a little bit to see some highlights and catch the credits. And they spelled my name wrong! They stuck an extra "L" in my name, making it "Mark Eldrys" instead of "Edrys" ...The Horror!
Oh, well... I'm used to my name getting butchered or miscredited in film credits. That's what happens with my last name. The film does look pretty good though. I also want to see MRG Entertainment's "Copycat-- Diary of a Serial Killer" that we worked on last December. "Kemper" has the trailer on it, and it looks pretty awesome too!

Life without water…

Ok, now this really sucks. Last week, I discovered that a small leak from the outside water pipe had gone from a mild seeping to a full-blown spraying. It was soaking my back porch and flowing down under the house into the crawl-space. The worst part about it, is that there’s a cut off valve right there, and I could shut the water on and off as I need to, but the cracked pipe is—of course—below the valve. Naturally!
Since I’ve been working a lot of hours, and the Lovely Mrs. Shoehead was on another of her trips, I had no time to try and fix it. We had the City shut off the water. So all week, I’ve been showering at my gym, and using gallon bottled water to survive. It’s like being on a camping trip in your own home! What fun! Anyway, I’m so over it, and today I’m gonna do my best Bob Vila impression, and try to fix the pipe! Yay!
Wish me luck...

I'm not depressed...

One of my awesome readers thought my last post sounded kinda depressing. Actually, I'm really doing OK. I think I was in a bad mood when I last blogged. That should be my new rule: Don't blog in a crappy mood! Otherwise, everything's cool. It was a nice day in Ventura yesterday, and Thanksgiving was a blast! I demonstrated my new IRIS 3000 video phone for my friends, and it was amazing. This phone technology is gonna be the bomb! I think it'll be one of the hottest items in 2009. I'm still stoked about ACN, and all the cool things that company's doing. The convention in Anaheim is gonna be amazing!
So nobody start slipping Prozac™ into my milkshakes just yet, OK?

Thanksgiving... wowzy-wowzy woo woo!

OK, I'm not a whole lot thankful this year. But let's see... Things could be worse, and they will be. I'm thankful for the movie "The Warriors". That movie always amuses me. I'm thankful for really good coffee. Always. I'm thankful I still have all my organs and my major appendages. (And some minor ones, too!) I'm thankful for my Italian Greyhound, Bocce Ball. I'm thankful for my home business ACN , which is just starting to take off, and is my ticket out of the doldrums. I'm thankful I still have both parents, and all my siblings and 2 cool nephews.
OK, time to catch my traditional Thanksgiving's eve buzz, and get ready for turkey day!!!
Yay!!!

OK, I'm back!

So I got over the whole election thing. Thank God at least we're (for the moment) not bombarded with all those crappy political messages.
Life in Firebaugh is still pretty much the same. Working in a women's prison is about as fun as it sounds. Life goes on, at least for the moment. Yee-HA!!!
Time for some New England clam chowder! Mmmmmmmm...

Way to go, Republicans....

Since my party, the Libertarian Party, has about the political effectiveness as a chess club, I've been counting on you Republicans to stave off the ravenous encroachments of the Democrat party. And you continue to let me down, time and time again! I knew our collective goose was cooked when you nominated that crusty RINO John McCain. While I appreciate your military service, Johnny, and the sacrifice you endured in the Hanoi Hilton, HOW THE FUCK COULD YOU LOSE TO THAT UNABASHED MARXIST REDISTRIBUTIONIST TURD OBAMA??? WHO'S ACCOMPLISHED NOTHING IN HIS WHOLE CAREER EXCEPT EXTORTING MONEY THROUGH A.C.O.R.N., HANGS OUT WITH RACISTS, ANTI-AMERICAN RADICALS AND TERRORISTS, AS WELL AS CHICAGO GANGSTERS??? WHO GOT SO CONFIDENT AGAINST YOUR TEPID CAMPAIGN THAT HE BARELY EVEN BOTHERED TO MASK HIS SOCIALIST INTENTIONS TOWARD THE END OF HIS CAMPAIGN??? ARE YOU FREAKIN' KIDDING ME???
JEEZ!!!

I HATE POLITICS!!!

What can I say? I really don't like any of the candidates. I can't stand politics, and yet this stupid election is getting crammed down our throats every minute of every day. Obama is so confident he's already won, that he's beginning to speak his mind; throwing out his socialistic plans to re-make our country in his own Marxist image. McCain, true to form fails to capitalize on Obama's redistributionist rhetoric, and plods along doing his best to lose to probably the most beatable presidential candidate ever fielded. I just feel like whichever of these schmucks wins, we all still lose.
Where can I go and hide out, unbothered for the next ten years or so?

In Exile...

Since mid-may, when our cable got cut off, and my internet access is at the mercy of the public library, and/or Kinko's, my blogging has definitely suffered. I feel like one of those governments-in-exile, trying to make my voice heard undire limited circumstances. Last week, I'd written a tribute blog about Paul Newman, and the servers at the library wouldn't let me log in to Blogger. I still have the blog entry on my flash drive, so I'll post it still; probably next week. I'm close to getting caught up and re-starting my cable and internet in Casa Shoehead. I can't wait! til then, I'm learning how to make wooden toy arrows, to cash in on some of that BULLSHIT bailout plan, that takes 700 BILLION dollars from some Americans, and gives it to others. Don't get me started. As our freedoms get flushed down the cosmic shitter every day, I'm trying to chart a new course for my life. Wish me luck...

Firebaugh looks the same...

So I just returned from Miami last night, and I'm looking at my small town, and realizing--"WOW, it's like night and day!" From crazy partying Miami to this tiny town is quite a culture shock. If Miami wasn't so damn humid, I'd move there tomorrow. The humidity turned me into a sweaty dripping mess every single day. It was embarassing! I was on the "Co-ed Confidential 3" set, surrounded by beautiful ladies, on both cast and crew, and I was a dripping mess! Ouch!
I flew out of Miami, with a stopover in Charlotte. There was just enough time for me to have a Bojangles biscuit. Yummy! I haven't had one since I lived in Richmond back in the 90's! I landed in LAX, and didn't even have to wait 5 minutes for the Van Nuys Flyaway shuttle. Then, from Van Nuys, it was up the 405 to the 5, and three hours later I'm in Firebaugh. It seems surreal, after two weeks in Miami, somehow Firebaugh seems both different, and yet still the same. There are a couple of palm trees around here, but still... Maybe if they opened a good Cuban restaurant, and I could find a great mojito, that'd make some kind of difference!

Back to Co-ed Confidential...

So for the past week and a half I've been down in Miami shooting season 3 of "Co-ed Confidential". I heard our show was popular, but I didn't realize exactly how popular it was. Apparently, it's the #1 rated show on Cinemax! Yee--HAW! It's great to see my buddy Kevin Patrick, and the ever-cute and sexy Michelle Maylene, as well as Bradley Joseph and a whole new set of faces.
So it's 9am here in Miami, and we have today and tomorrow to shoot. The crew is then going back to L.A. to finish up, but I'm actually going to return to my regular gig in the women's prison. Miami sure was fun though! I'll post up some pics later, for all you "Co-ed" fans!
~Ciao!

The Catfather?

This morning, the Lovely Mrs. Shoehead woke up to a scene reminiscent of The Godfather’s hapless movie producer Woltz waking up with the head of his prized Arabian horse Khartoum’s bloody severed head nestled in his bed. As she was waking up, she noticed a strange little lumpy thing underneath her. As she pulled back the blankets, there was revealed… a dead mouse! Flattened, and staining the sheets with its life blood and other vital fluids, the small rodent was apparently a gift offered in tribute by one of our ever-increasing number of cats that have taken up residence at Casa Shoehead.
The feline presence in my domicile began with Starva, the matriarch of the clan. She enjoyed a peaceful and solitary existence for many years, until June, 2006 and the arrival of Missy Cleopatra. Missy was in a cage at our vet’s office for about two days with an “adopt me’ sign on the outside of the cage. The story on the sign told how she was found by one of the vet’s staff in a pillowcase in an apartment dumpster! She was such a cute little black furball, just climbing and playing around in her cage, we just had to take her home with us. At first, there was friction between Starva, and the young upstart Missy, but soon things were worked out into a sort of détente. About a year later, in the summer of 2007, a couple of alley cats started coming around our outside staircase crying for food. One of them had an injured tail, and he was the most affectionate of the alley cats. Soon, he showed up daily and I made sure he got a good meal, and sometimes some milk! When the decision was made to move out of Oxnard in November 2007, Mrs. Shoehead and I felt that we just couldn’t leave “Cat-tail” (as he was now called), behind to take his chances with the increasingly dangerous neighborhood. Yippee! Cat #3! There was still plenty of room at the new house, as well as a spacious yard so that all three cats (plus two dogs) could co-habitate, although to Starva’s chagrin.
A few short weeks later, at a Christmas trip to her auntie’s house, the Lovely Mrs. Shoehead noticed another little kitten, a grey tiger-striped cat, hanging around the front doorstep, unheeded and un-cared for. Naturally, as animal lovers, we felt obligated to take this on in, too. We kept him in the same room as Cat-tail, segregated from the other cats until they could all get acclimated to one another. Buster, as the new addition came to be called, and Cat-tail got along great. The older, seasoned alley cat, took the young cat under his protection, almost like a little brother. He still to this day hangs out with Buster and protects him from the dogs. Our first attempt at integrating the newer boy cats to the established girl cats resulted in buster scampering under the house, and deciding to take up permanent residence there. He comes out from his hole every morning at seven am and every night around 10 pm for his feeding, under the watchful eye of his big brother, Cat-tail.
This was pretty much how it went on through most of 2008, but one day in mid-August, I went out to feed Buster, and there was a tan tiger-striped cat, even smaller than Buster! Crying, hungry and scared, I fed him—wondering if he was here to stay, or just passing through. (Many neighborhood cats jump over our fence and visit Casa Shoehead. We must be a hot-spot in the cat circuit!) As he basically never left, and hung around our back porch for the next couple of days, we decided to take him in and clean him up a little bit. He was covered with fleas, and had ear-mites, so we took care of that, and we helped him to get nourished, too. He’s recovering nicely, and as it turns out he’s got a great personality—very playful and loving. Our Italian Greyhound, Bocce, took an instant like to him. Bocce kisses him and tries to play with him as often as he can, and the kitten’s not scared in the least. Last week, Mrs. Shoehead named him Vanilla Bean, or Beanie for short. So, cat #5 has arrived!
So, in regards to this morning’s incident with the poor little mouse, we’re trying to determine which cat was the culprit. Was it an offer of tribute from Missy Cleopatra, who’s trying to retain her position with her human overlords as #2 cat in the household? Or was it Cat-tail, trying to exert his influence with the humans and move up in household rank? A long-shot says it was Starva, trying to prove she’s still a viable force in the cat organization. Unlikely, but still an option. Ruled out are Buster, who almost never comes in the house any more, and Bean, who’s still under quarantine in what’s now the “cat room”. If the cats could talk, it would make the investigation much easier, but as it is, it may never be solved. Meanwhile Mrs. Shoehead is still highly freaked out.

Cinematic splendor, right here in my own home!

The lovely Mrs. Shoehead and I, still enjoying the lack of cable TV in our lives, have been on a DVD-watching frenzy. Yesterday’s viewings—“Tyler Perry’s Meet the Browns”, and “Little Children”. We found “Browns” amusing, in the typical Tyler Perry vein. He re-uses some of his elements in several of his offerings, which is fine—he’s trying to deliver a message as well as entertain. We were treated to the same characters, the struggling single mom, the deadbeat dad, the promising basketball player son that gets hospitalized by a drug deal shooting, etc. As Tyler’s films are always funny, heartwarming, and full of good values, the House of Shoehead was pleased and entertained. As such, I hereby promise, that I will never be a deadbeat dad, on the off chance my son will grow up to be a 16-year old NBA first draft pick. Amen.

“Little Children” was a different story. The DVD came in on our Netflix and we both looked at each other and wondered “Who added this one to the queue?” Then I realized that it was I who added this flick, noticing that this was the movie that featured the cinematic return of Jackie Earle Haley (No, not Haley Joel Osment). For you 40-something pop culture geeks, he was “Kelly Leak” in the monumental “Bad News Bears” movie from 1976. So I’m the culprit for wasting over two hours of mine and the Lovely Mrs. Shoehead’s lives, which we’ll never get back. First off, the movie was long, and painfully slow. You could have cut the movie in half, and still gotten the “story”. Kate Winslet played Sarah, a self-absorbed do-nothing housewife, who starts an affair with Brad, played by some guy, who’s a delusional do-nothing househusband. These two idiots actually had the temerity to include their toddler children in their infidelities, letting them play together while they got “busy”! A side story to these escapades is Jackie Earle Haley as a released sex-offender in the neighborhood, and a disgraced ex-cop (played by some other guy) who’s obsessed with tormenting him and his mom. Actually, in the whole film, the perv and his mom are the only characters I felt any sympathy or pathos for. Especially the mom, who really didn’t ask for any of this nightmare. She’s harassed to a breaking point and finally dispatched when the ex-cop knocks her to the ground, and she goes into cardiac arrest. Then, instead of the revenge ending I was craving, (I envisioned a pre-dug grave up in Maine for the ex-cop) we get a redemption in ex-cop Larry when he drives the self-castrated perv to the emergency room. Throughout the film, it was suggested the perv be castrated, so it was a self-fulfillment. Meanwhile, our cheating couple decided to stay in their marriages after all. Aaaah, all is right with the world. We did get to see Kate Winslets boob, (nipple and all!) and she did have some sexy blue toenail polish, which I like, but otherwise, I wish I could somehow get those two hours back…

They all Suck '08

I really do my best not to make this a political blog, because personally I can’t stand politics or politicians, but it really disappoints me that the next president, whether it’s the abominable Obama, or the ever-ambitious RINO McCain, will be a senator. A senator is not a leadership position. It’s a committee, deal-making, consensus-seeking position. I always believe that a governor is the logical choice for a U.S. president, having proven his (or her) executive acumen running a state government for a term or two. If an dark-horse outsider comes along, I think a CEO might be a better choice than a senator. So no matter who wins the general election in November, it’s sure to be a disappointment. There’s something particularly sleazy and disgusting about the U.S. senate.

I don’t believe in my lifetime I’ll see a Libertarian president. While that does reflect my personal belief system, I’m afraid I’ll have to rely on the Republicans to fend off the ravenous encroachments of the Democrat party. Which they almost religiously fail to do. That’s why the Republicans constantly piss me off as well. My campaign slogan is “THEY ALL SUCK ‘08”

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Get ready for the Mexico expansion! Click here for details!

Hey there readers!

I've been away, and lost my internet connection, got a job then got laid off a month later-- It's been a crazy couple of months. SO-- any of my fans out there miss me? I thought so!
While I was away, we lost George Carlin, Bernie Mac, Isaac Hayes, and a dear friend of mine, my old agent in Richmond VA, Liz Marks. The news of Liz's death came to me as a total shock. She was very helpful to me when I started acting professionally in 1991; I considered her a mentor and a friend. So I wanted to acknowledge these fine folks whom we lost in the last 2 months, and send a cosmic thank you to them for helping to brighten our lives.

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Big news-- our company is expanding into Mexico by the end of the year. It's a great opportunity to build a huge organization, with a potential customer base of a million+
Take a look and see...

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Well, that's all for now, but I'm going to make an effort to publish at least three times a week. I miss my blog, and I miss my readers (which number like ten or so now!)
Be cool...

What a difference 27 years makes!

2nd New York Regiment, Yorktown VA, October 1981

Mark Edrys and Charles J. Nohai, Yorktown 1981

Mark Edrys and Charles J. Nohai, Los Angeles March 2008

Nice little heatwave here in Firebaugh...

Now I see why they call this place Firebaugh. It's like, 110° in the shade... too hot for outdoor exercise, so I have to use my alternative fat loss plan. Otherwise, things have been going pretty good with the program. Exercising, running, and doing some isometrics and push-ups seems to be doing the trick. My new running program is an hour-long run, four times per week. Since my 10K is about an hour, I'm actually running 24.8 miles per week. I do ab-work Monday, Wednesday and Friday, so we'll see how the plan goes. I'll weigh in every Friday, so right now I'm at: 226 lbs. My gol is to be a nice, ripped 185 lbs. So here we go!
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My prediction: Sayonara Syesha!

She's cute, sexy and has a very nice voice, but I predict after last night's all-around mediocre American Idol show, that the Sarasota sweetie is gonna say "see-ya". Syesha Mercado delivered last night's audience three utterly forgettable performances-- the predictable Alicia Keyes "If I Don't Have You" predictably chosen by the predictable judge Randy Jackson; a cabaret performance of Peggy Lee's "Fever" complete with prop chair; and, ummm... some other song. (Was it the penguin song from "Happy Feet"? I think so...) *Sigh* And I like her, too. She just never really defined herself as to what kind singer she is. "Generic Pop Singer" seems to be what she's shooting for. I guess that's not necessarily a death-knell in Idol-World. Jordin Sparks won last year, and she didn't really have any kind of musical style to lay claim to. But Syeha's lack of gravitas (YES! I used a political word!) in last night's performances, not to mention the judges outright candor (even Paula!) in basically telling her she's done, suggests I write a pre-post-mortem on Ms. Mercado.
That presumptively leaves the two Davids-- guitar-playing rocker Cook, and dreadful balladeer Achuleta to vie it out for the final victory. My money's on Mr. Cook for a number of reasons, not sucking being the top reason, but we'll have to see how it plays out. Archie's somnambulant croonings do seem to rank high amongst Idol voters (at least female, under the age of fifteen). As Simon Cowell stated several weeks ago, if this is still a talent competition, and not a popularity contest, David Cook's got it hands down.
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Back to Busking...

It took no Einstein, or crystal ball to predict who'd get the footprint-on-the-ass on this week's Idol. Dreadful, dreadlocked Jason Castro-- who relied on sheer cuteness to get him this far, got bumped after crapping out a version of the Bob Marley classic "I Shot the Sheriff", then proceeded to mangle Bob Dylan's "Mr. Tambourine Man". Bo Bice, my personal pick for season 4's Idol, summed it up pretty well when he commented on the decision to let this season's contestants play their instruments--it's OK to an extent, but some performers hide behind it. Right on the money, Bo... Jason C was a one-trick pony, and basically gave us the same performance every week. Essentially displaying none of the versatility that is required of all Idol aspirants, Jason brought his subway busking-style performances to the Idol stage relentlessly until I think even he himself couldn't believe he'd lasted that long.
As a final 10 contestant, he's earned himself a place on the American Idol tour, so concert-goers will be treated to more of his repetitive musical musings. I'm not sure how many songs they allow these performers to solo on, but I think a better venue for Jason would be on the downtown platform of the 1/9 trains in Times Square. It would be perfect--these trains go right down to Greenwich Village! Utterly appropriate, and a great audience for Mr. Castro.
OK, so that's settled... now let's focus our efforts on that other one-trick-pony, David Archuletta. He sings just like he talks--boring, yawning; always schmaltzy ballads. Another crappy performer propped up by the pubescent-girl vote. Syesha's very sexy, and I can see her in an acting career, probably musicals and musical theater. I even wouldn't be too disappointed if she won the whole Idol pie. But I think the deserving winner this year is David Cook. He's talented, versatile, and interprets his cover tunes in a very creative and personal way. He also displays his rock-n-roll roots, without being a complete sell-out (as much as a show like this will allow). OK, there's only two more weeks of Idol, and this season really did prove to be a snore. Let's hope that next season will give us a little something more. And, keep the instruments at home, kids. I don't really think it worked, David Cook aside. Let's get another Melinda Doolittle onstage next season. She was the best, and most talented performer that ever set foot on the American Idol stage.

Yay! Finally getting my dogs back...

After two weeks, I'm getting my two dogs back from boarding at my in-laws. We had to seperate them, because Cowgirl is well-behaved, and Bocce is, um... not. I'm leaving in about 15 minutes and driving first to San Francisco to get Bocce, then Modesto to retrieve Cowgirl. I'm so excited...

There's jut an emptiness without those two little guys.

Mourning Brooke White (But I saw it comin' a mile away!)

I could feel it, I knew it, I watched it unfold before me--and from the look on her face, I could tell that Brooke White felt the exact same way I did. As I watched the elimination of perhaps the purest, and absolute sweetest of any Idol contestant ever, I couldn't help but say to myself, "I can see where this is going..."
The sensitive, yet plucky Miss White got clipped after singing "I Am... I Said" on Neil Diamond week, after seemingly weeks of slowly coming unravelled. I was pulling for her from early on, especially after my main man Chikezie got whacked, but recent performances of hers showed signs of slippage, which is often fatal to an aspiring Idol. I witnessed not one, but two false starts (once on her own with a piano, and once with a full orchestra behind her!); and saw her almost lose it during her piano-playing performance of Mariah Carey's "Hero"; barely stumbling through the number. Alas, the voting public had finally stopped dialing her number.
I really did like this contestant, and it was with no amount of my usual American Idol schadenfreude did I feel for the 24 year-old nanny from Mesa, Arizona. She was an absolute sweetheart, and a very good musician; playing both piano and guitar for several numbers. She has an great voice--somewhat country, with a reminiscence of Carly Simon. She's also stunningly beautiful. Tall, blonde, and with the perfect balance of sexiness and pure innocence; with just a touch of almost goofiness thrown in to round out the mix. Where many aspiring Idols fall because they don't connect with the audience despite an above-average singing voice, I really believe Brooke did connect with the audience--which kept her afloat despite weeks of shaky performances. Sadly, in the end, her nerves just got the best of her.

Happy Birthday, Aunt Harriet!

Harriet Lloyd Ross
May 2 1896- August 1994

Today, my little auntie Harriet, Hyatt as we all knew her as, would have been 112! It's amazing to think that she saw in her lifetime everything from the Wright Brothers' first flight, all the way to the space shuttle missions.
Our dear Hyatt was quite an interesting woman. she was rather eccentric, but to her own right she was very successful in a financial company on Wall Street. She was an office manager which, sadly, was about as high as a woman could go in those days. Her boss was a man named Mr. Horner. Hyatt was very intelligent, and quite a conversationalist. And she'd be very upset with me if I didn't mention that she was a Methodist! We all miss her a lot...
Happy Birthday, Hyatt!

Back from San Diego with a new attitude!

For the past week, I've been in Mission Beach with my brother Jason. It was really a much-needed respite from the every day life in Firebaugh. While I was there, I got back into my old fitness routine, and more than that, rediscovered who I am and where my inner peace lies. It sounds kinda cliché, but it really is true. In dealing with personal issues, and the day-to-day dreariness of my life, I really did lose myself and my focus along the way.
So this past week, with my brother there to support and encourage me, we did a lot of running (with my two dogs Bocce and Cowgirl). We also set up a bootcamp-style training gym right in the sand on the beach of Mission Bay. Next we started a new plan to fire up our ACN business, that's a surefire winner. I helped him set up his office, we ate great meals al fresco, right by the bay... It was almost purifying!
I learned not to succumb to negativity. from now on, I'll take control of my life again. it's a good feeling. A key factor in my new attitude is Don Miguel Ruiz's The Four Agreements. This is a collection of ancient Toltec wisdom, made easy to follow in todays' world.

Charlton Heston, a great American

I was really saddened by the loss of Charlton Heston this week. Not only was he a great actor, and a film legend, but he represented all that's good about America. He was the first actor that I actually recognized and got familiar with when I was a kid. Being a sci-fi geek, his leading performances in "The Omega Man", "Soylent Green", and of course, Colonel George Taylor in "Planet of the Apes". Not to mention all the other roles he was famous for that don't even need mentioning. his voice was commanding, and his screen presence filled the room.
Another thing I admire about Mr. Heston, is his commitment to what he believed in, even if it proved to be unpopular. His position on gun-owners' rights, and his love for America earned him criticism from many people, including those in his own industry.
Thank you Mr. Heston, for what you've done in my life and inspiring me and others.

Don't cry, Ramiele!

This week's departure of Ramiele Malubay came as no surprise to me. I did come in late to the Idol game this season due to a work project, missing all of Hollywood week and the elimination of the first twelve. So, I didn't get to see the early performances that earned her top twelve status. But, that being said, as I watched the diminutive and undeniably cute Rami perform, I had her pegged for an early elimination.
I just got the feeling while watching her, that she's just not a performer. She has an incredible voice, no doubt about that. She just seemed to not know what to do on stage. She gave off a look that seemed to say, "I've seen other singers do this, so this is what I'm supposed to do!" as she stood awkwardly or tried to look as-cute-as-can-be for the camera. That always reads across the TV airwaves, and sooner or later, the audience will lose interest and stop voting. I imagine her fanbase was a good percentage of Filipinos and other Asians giving her support (and valuable phone votes!). At the very beginning of the season, during her audition phase, she'd remarked that she aspired to be the first Asian-american Idol. Or did she say it without the hyphen; the first Asian American Idol? I couldn't tell... Either way, it was a very admirable aspiration.
Coincidentally, Ramiele's departure episode displayed video clips of "What-are-they-doing-now" clips of previous seasons' finalists. Most of them seem to be doing really well (The clips did not feature Jessica Sierra), and following their musical dreams in some capacity. Not to mention, being a top 10 finalist, Rami gets to go on the American Idol tour. With that kind of exposure, and the right kind of planning and representation, she has a great chance of continuing as a successful performing artist. After all, that's what it's all about, right?
This led to one of my patented "bright ideas™"... I mentioned to the lovely Mrs. Shoehead that Ramiele could not only be an "American" Idol, but she could go global with this. If she started representing herself as an example of Asian-american pop music talent, and also started booking concerts and releasing albums in the Asian nations, and the Pacific Rim, I believe she'll be hugely successful! A truly global talent, representing America, Asian-America, and the American Idol franchise to over a billion people! I hope her representation and management have at least entertained the possibilities. I told the lovely Mrs. Shoehead that I would be willing to represent Ramiele, if she needed me. So, cheer up my diminutive cutie, you could be bigger than Miley Cyrus, and not even have to concoct a "Hannah Montana" persona.

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Martin Luther King reincarnated?

It's a happy 40th birthday to my buddy from a previous life, Keith AKA Shrek. It seems he was born on the same day the esteemed M.L.K. passed away. Coincidence? I Think not... Any spiritual person (or non-spiritual, for that matter) would see the obvious fact that Keith "Shrek" is the reincarnation of Dr. King! Shrek was part of a little underground business that I got involved with when I first moved to California. One of the other guys in that little circle just happens to be the reincarnation of Elvis. Dennis, or "D" was born on August 16th, 1977, the same day as The King checked out of that Heartbreak Hotel we call life.
Can you see the parallels? Martin Luther KING, The KING? How can anyone miss that?

Anyway, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SHREK!!! The big 4-0!

Thank you Dr. King

Just a little reflection on this 40th anniversary of Dr. King's death... The "I have a dream" speech from 1963 was one of the defining moments of the 20th century.

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I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

In a sense we have come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds." But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check — a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quick sands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.

But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.

We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. They have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.

As we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied, as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their selfhood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating "For Whites Only". We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.

Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.

I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; one day right there in Alabama, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.

This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring."

And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania!

Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!

Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California!

But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia!

Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!

Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

And when this happens, when we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"

A day in the life...

Another great day in Firebaugh... It rained a little yesterday, but today is sunny and warm! One of my cats, a cute kitten named Buster who went missing two weeks ago, came back! He was hiding out under the house, and the were sightings of him, and rumored sightings (like Elvis or Bigfoot) but he finally returned to the warmth and comfort of Casa Shoehead.

Now, I'm finishing my coffee, and working on my screenplay. ah, yes...
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Maybe I'll join the C.I.A.

Three men answered and ad for CIA agents. The ad stated
the men were to bring their wives.

The first man was called in for the interview. The Agent
in charge handed him a gun, then said, "We must have
absolute loyalty in this service. Take your wife in the
next room and shoot her."

The man looked shocked. He thought and said "I'm afraid I
can't do that. I just got married 2 weeks ago and I still
love my wife." He left.

The second man came in and the agent gave him the same
pitch. The man, almost in tears said, "Oh no. I can't do
that to her, she's about to have a baby." So he left.

The third man entered and was given the pitch. So he took
the gun and his wife into the next room. Soon "bam bam
bam bam bam!" Then there was noise of furniture being
broken, woman's screams, then nothing. The man comes
back out.

The agents asked, "What went on in there??!!"

The man said: "Some idiot put blanks in the gun
so I strangled her!"