It must be Autumn
It must be Autumn
Here it is again. October, the Major League Baseball playoffs, and the Yanks are back at it. Life is good. They beat the upstart Anaheim Angels with some of that Yankee aura and mystique last night. A come-from-behind win, on a monster home run from the bat of Bernie Williams.
Hmm. Should I go totally public, and post my predictions for the outcome of the Division Series, Championship Series, and the World Series? Or maybe I should wait until after each round and post just the predictions for the one coming up. That way I'd at least get to hedge on any injuries. Let me consider this before I go public and risk either great embarrassment, or the accolades and awe of those who assess my baseball Post-Season Crystal Ball.
September 30th came and went. My son celebrated his 15th birthday. Time sure flies. I got him a real good card this year. It can be so difficult finding the right card with the proper sentiment, but this year I lucked out and got a real winner for him.
The 30th was also the 5th birthday of Jeneane Sessumís daughter Jenna. Rageboy, ever the sentimentalist, put up Jennaís wish list. According to Jeaneaneís blog, a good few readers came through with goodies for the lovely Jenna. Nice.
Hey, Rageboy! Next year mention my son, too!
October 2nd is another one of those special days. Great things happened (and may continue to occur) on this date.
Groucho Marx was born on this day, back in 1890. Possibly the best wit, the funniest man ever to grace the planet. Those movies remain hilarious. The TV Show, You Bet YourLifeî was a showcase for Grouchoís quick wit and incredible depth of knowledge and the art of the snappy comeback. Groucho also wrote for the stage, to many a little known fact. The Marx Brothers were quite the accomplished crew, given their lack of education and training. Comic timing and musicianship seemed to come to them naturally, as well as the ability to write, perform, and entertain. Julius ìGrouchoî Marx was an also an author; he wrote eight books. A very entertaining website exists, possibly the ultimate tribute to Groucho. It is the Random Groucho Marx Quotes Page. Check it out!
Some people tell me they think I look like Groucho. A few years back I was with a group of people entering a restaurant, and the doorman said to me, ìWelcome in, Groucho.î I do have a thick mustache, and can also raise the eyebrow a la Groucho. To me it doesnít appear to be a match. But who am I to argue with the many who apparently see a resemblance?
Okay, letís just follow this along a step further or so. I am also told by a good few people that I remind them of Richard Dreyfuss. Many say I look like him, some go so far as to say that our voices sound alike. Now look at these pictures. Groucho on caricature. Groucho in Black & White. Dreyfuss a few years back. I look like that?
Back in the late 1960ís and early 70ís people would also say that I looked like Bob Dylan. The only thing Dylan, Groucho, Richard Dreyfuss and I all have in common is that we are all Jewish. Dreyfuss and I were both born in Brooklyn. Groucho was born in New York City (we think Manhattan, but havenít researched it too deeply). Dylan, of course, hails from Hibbing, Minnesota. He did live in New York for quite some time.
Somehow I think it is a pretty safe assumption that people donít tell Richard Dreyfuss or Bob Dylan that they look like me. Odds are that before he died, Groucho also never heard the comparison.
