BRONX, NY – As I write this, it’s only T-minus two days until Mrs. Angry returns from taking a bunch of high-schoolers to England and my life gets back to whatever passes for normal. On the upside, I’ve managed to binge watch just about every summery movie I could get my hands on (Rear Window, One Crazy Summer, The Paper, The Way Way Back, Meatballs, The Flamingo Kid, Queens Logic, Jaws, etc.) before my wife takes over the tube with a steady stream of Orange is the New Black and HGTV fare. I also shoehorned in a nice trip out to Belmont Park with some of the best people on Earth. So though I’m a bit wiped out from keeping my kid entertained through this stifling heat, I really can’t complain. Except about these things…
Orange and Blue is the New Zzzzz. Watched that 18-inning Bataan Death March between the Mets and Cards on Sunday, when the Mets managed to strand 24 runners in scoring position. If it weren’t for these types of games driving Keith Hernandez to the brink of on-air career suicide, they would be unwatchable.
Summer Blockbusters. I may in the minority on this one, but I hate summer blockbuster-type movies. I’m sure there are awesome effects in Jurassic World and Pixels and the like, but I prefer the days when you could see some honest to goodness hilarious summer comedies. I’ve said it before and I’ll keep saying it until I croak, the summer of 1980 was the best summer for movies ever. I went to a Triplex theater in Chicago’s Watertower and the three movies playing there were The Blues Brothers, Airplane!, and Caddyshack. Are you f***ing kidding me? Not enough? How about The Shining, The Empire Strikes Back, The Hollywood Nights, and Used Cars, which were also out that summer. Hell, even Caitlyn (then Bruce) Jenner’s truly insane Can’t Stop the Music was in theaters. Unreal.
Fantasy Football Forecasts. Please stop telling me how great all my players are and how even though they sucked last year they are do for breakout campaigns. Here’s the deal: Julio Jones will never stay healthy, Matthew Stafford will never learn correct throwing mechanics, Eli Manning will never stop running for his life and throwing picks, Rob Gronkowski will get injured, Jimmy Graham will suck in Seattle, and I should have stopped participating in FF around 10 years ago.
Ooo, ooo, that Smell. Tourism is a big part of New York’s lifeblood and knows no real season. So when summer comes around it might be a good idea for the Mayor’s office to start handing out deodorant bars on subway platforms. I was on a Broadway #1 local on Monday that smelled like a monkey house or any Bally’s Total Fitness. You can’t expect visitors to change their grooming customs overnight, but you can maybe fool them with freebies.
A Little Horse Sense. For the life of me, and this was reinforced again this past Saturday, I can’t understand how Horse Racing can’t somehow save itself. At this point I would say that close to 100 percent of the time I am at the track with someone who hasn’t been before, their reaction is something along the lines of: “Holy crap, this is pretty good!” Take Belmont, for example. It’s a beautiful outdoor park that’s not much tougher to get to than Citi Field. Parking is either free or three bucks. Admission is 5 bucks. You can bring your own food, drink and, yes, booze in, so long as it’s not in a glass bottle. You can barbecue, if you like. Oh, and there’s gambling. What’s not to like? People have this negative view of horse racing and tracks that is based in some myth of the 1970s. I have never once seen a fist fight at a track like I have at numerous baseball games. I’ve never encountered anyone throwing up in the parking lot, like I’ve seen at NFL games. And I’ve yet to encounter a track surrounded by pawn shops like you might see in Atlantic City. Trust me, it’s not a bad way to spend a day. Get a PR team before it’s too late, NTRA!
Speaking of late. I’m done. Outta here. Come back tomorrow for some more stuff, as Chuck Barris would say.
