“…and then something went bump, and that bump made us jump. We looked and we saw him step in on the mat. We looked as we saw him, the Cat in the Hat …” In the annals of American History March 2 nd is not the most noticeable of dates. It can be claimed as the birthday of both Desi Arnaz and Mikhail Gorbachev and, for those whose tastes run somewhat darker, it’s the day cowboy actor Randolph Scott died. Of course, if we Americans were truly students of history, March 2 nd would have more meaning: in 1923 the first issue of Time Magazine rolled off the presses. On that same date in 1927, Babe Ruth was listed as the highest paid player in baseball (he earned $70,000 that year) in 1933, King Kong premiered at the Radio City Music Hall. In 1950 Silly Putty was invented. Fourteen years later, the Beatles would film “A Hard Day’s Night” and in 1974 a federal grand jury would conclude President Nixon was involved in Watergate. Still, even these events don’t accurately portray th
So I’m standing in a large darkened gym, watching a bunch of middle school kids fake like they are dancing — and for the record they’re not very good. I’m here, because in a moment of weakness, I told my school teacher-wife I’d help chaperone. The music is loud. Between 40 and 50 kids line the walls — boys on one side, girls on the other. The dance floor is empty. I’ve been here before. About 30 years ago. Over to the left, there’s the arrogant little twit who is sure he’s the perfect specimen of masculinity. He thinks he’s immortal and he honestly believes that every girl here is dying to hook-up with him. He struts around like a rooster, high-fives his buds, and practices that same look Rod Steward made famous in 1975. Rod’s version was way better. Thirty years ago this kid’s name was Jimmy; he started on the eighth grade football team and his Dad bought him a real motorcycle. He was just sure he had qualified as the Alpha Male of the eighth grade. Superjock is talking to the standar