I haven’t forgotten you, loyal readers (all 2 of you). We’ve just been on vacation a little bit.
Watching Old-Timer’s Day with My Father the would-be Sportswriter, and thinking of Thurman Munson, who died on this day 29 years ago, while trying to educate the Baby in the lore of baseball (and bunny cars).
A few days ago, the Yankees traded for Detroit’s Ivan Rodriguez, and I thought the same thing this blogger did at Bronx Banter: what would Munson have thought about the Yankees acquiring a catcher with the nickname of “Pudge,” the same as his hated Red Sox rival Carlton Fisk?
Anyway, more blog posts in the future, after vacation. Enjoy the summer.
Can’t endorse the new Indiana Jones movie, which we saw at the drive-in last weekend while The Baby more or less slept in the back seat (Iron Man, the second half of the double feature, was much better, and since I dug out my Black Sabbath CD and started playing “Iron Man” in the car, The Baby has taken to saying “Ionman” — but I’m digressing again).
It’s not that the new Indy is particularly bad, though it’s not good, or that it wastes Karen Allen in a comeback role (someone on Gawker said, “Oh, that’s what a MILF looks like”), or that it manages to rip off the first X-Files movie, Back to the Future, and Spike Milligan’s old crazy guy from the Bastille from History of the World, Part I, while forgetting how much fun the old Indiana Jones movies could be (though Harrison Ford looks like he’s having tons of fun without having to lift the undernourished Calista Flockhart around). It even wastes a pretty good premise of Indy getting older (it takes place in 1957), if no less adventuresome, proving for the fourth time in nine years that George Lucas, God bless him, should be nowhere near a laptop (somehow, he didn’t write the screenplay, though Steven Spielberg does a pretty good George Lucas imitation in directing — that’s not a compliment).
No, it’s merely because St. Jimmy is upset that Too Short isn’t in it, as Lord Jim misidentified him. He meant Short Round, and the actor who portrayed him also played Data in The Goonies. He is alive and well (though he used to be called “Ke Huy Quan” and not “Jonathan Ke Quan,” as Babble calls him, but jeez, he turns 37 this year — not very funny).
UPDATE JUNE 10: I should say that the motorcycle chase through Indy’s New England college was pretty cool (and at least they weren’t on skateboards, which the Back to the Future-like scene preceding it seemed to be leading to).
Also, He-Man seemed to enjoy Shia LaBeouf’s performance, so the movie was not without redeeming value.
The Baby is in total Ike from “South Park” stage now — he says a three-word sentence of recognizable words, and then the equivalent of five paragraphs of baby talk. Thankfully, the top of his head doesn’t detach and pop up and down like Ike’s.
Here’s a sample I tried to transcribe last night:
“Ameeto passh, paasch! Shtash, opeen, malk kootch. Ashtoo baasch koosh. Peete schaan. Uh-oh. Lid. All done. Vamash maam. All set. Dowsaurs. Baack. Baack a beez. Darwars. Thaas. All set. Daamee. Fwouwaur. Boossooseet.”
We walked up the street and he pointed out each of the bunches of tulips growing in the sidewalk gardens, purples and reds and yellows and oranges coming up out of the ground, surrounded by low black iron mini-fences. He liked the steps of the brownstones, too, liked to say “stoop.” He got too distracted by the lights and sounds of the burrito joint, though, so we got it to go, and went home to eat and play baseball on the back patio, the baby throwing his whole body into every pitch, so much so that he toppled onto the ground, giggling.