Hold the Oak

The doorbell rang during dinner. The man standing at our door had a long beard – a beginner’s level ZZ Top style – and was holding a clipboard.  It was a lovely clipboard.

He had a worn-down green backpack draped over his shoulders. He was also wearing a dark trench coat that didn’t give off a warm, fuzzy feeling.

I moved my hand towards my pocket to check if I had 84 cents on me, just in case.

It turns out, he was from Penn Environmental. Evidently, on his trek up to the door he ignored the 16 MPG Mustang parked on the driveway. Perhaps he didn’t even notice it because if he did, he would have realized that the environment was not particularly high on my list.

Against my better judgement, I decided to let him have his say.

He asked me, hypothetically, if the election were held tomorrow, who would I vote for?

Whoa!

We just met. I didn’t even catch his name and he wants to talk politics with me? This relationship was moving way too fast. I politely told him that now was not a good time and I closed the door before he could say anything else. If I would have let him go on, the next thing you know, he would be telling me that global warming is a real problem.

What a loon!

Curious Change

There are two types of bums in this world – the indoor type as well as the outdoor variety. The indoor bums can usually be found sitting against a wall inside of a station, whether it be a bus, train, or police station. Shortly after sitting down, trying to rest their legs, an employee walks by and asks them to leave. The indoor bum, at this point, gets up and walks outside, thus transforming into an outdoor bum.

The outdoor bums are the unfortunate souls that roam the streets outside and are constantly on the lookout for spare change. Some of the outdoor bums are lucky to have a musical talent – usually saxophone, but sometimes guitar and very rarely mandolin. The truly special bum also has an open case to store their instrument as well as collect cash deposits.

My most recent occurrence with the homeless occurred while visiting my brother. There was this one particular bum – classified as being outdoorsy – that was wearing worn down jeans and a Chicago Bears sweatshirt that was two sizes too small. He had a four-day old beard that was toeing the line between hipster collegiate and homeless vagrant.

The fragrance surrounding this man – who we shall call Norman – was strictly all his own. He smelled like he just tumbled off of a UPS truck with that new cardboard box smell leaking out of his uncleansed pores. While I don’t expect him to afford a can of deodorant, you would think he could find a sample pack of Febreze somewhere and apply a couple squirts to help dull the edge a bit.

He was also black, but I’m not touching that one.

As we walked by, Norman said, “Hey man, I’m not gonna rob you.”

It was nice of him to say, but the fact that the first thing he brought up involved stealing from us would seem to indicate that it did at least cross his mind at some point. Instead of mugging us, he simply asked for 84 cents to buy some French fries.

I found this to be very strange.

Here was Norman, a homeless man begging for money, looking to buy some French fries. I don’t like judging people or make assumptions about their life. I don’t know how Norman ended up on the streets. His wife and kids could have kicked him to the curb and locked him out. His job was probably shipped off to China then Norman was laid off. He took up drinking heavily, maybe tried a few drugs and his life just spiraled out of control. Maybe his parents were homeless and homelessness just runs in the family.

A part of me couldn’t help but think he got there because of his own mental shortcomings. After all, for just 16 cents more he could go buy himself a double cheeseburger off of the dollar menu. Instead, Norman the Bum was settling for an 84 cent box of fries.

While it may take longer to raise the necessary funds, a dollar menu burger would at least be more filling than some fries. If he could get his hands on a double cheeseburger, he was looking at digesting some carbohydrates, proteins, and vegetables that surely have some sorts of vitamins in them.

With the potential for the whole dollar menu to be at his disposal, Norman was aiming low by settling for French fries. If he showed just a little patience in his fundraising, he could find a complete meal off the dollar menu. Although, I’m not sure how he was planning on paying for the tax; maybe he thought there was an exemption in place.

Does the 84 cents include both French fries and included tax? If so, where was Norman buying French fries at because it sounds like he may have found a smokin’ fry deal.

As I thought about his desire for 84 cents and whether he was being entirely honest with me – was he really looking to buy French fries? –  I kept walking. He asked for 84 cents (I’m really not sure what you can buy for 84 cents these days, what with all of the inflationary pressures out there).

Unfortunately for him, I don’t carry spare change around with me so I was unable to help him. Perhaps he thought I would just round up and give him a whole dollar, but he was very specific in asking for 84 cents so he got nothing from me.

Throughout the day, Norman stood outside like he had a Vitamin D addiction, afraid to seek shade, always standing in the way of the sun’s rays. Standing in the sun for such an extended period of time couldn’t have been good for his skin. He wanted his money and apparently wasn’t too concerned about melanoma, whose treatment surely costs more than 84 cents. These are the risks that outdoor bums around the world are faced with every day there’s no clouds in the sky.

After going about my day, I crossed paths with Norman again late at night. He didn’t say anything at first; I wasn’t sure if robbing me was back on the table or not. He came right out and said what he wanted: “Hey fellows, do you have 84 cents? All I want is a 40.”

Oh, now he wants a 40. What happened to the French fries, Norman? Did you get your French fries? I was really starting to question Norman. Just because he’s homeless doesn’t mean he has to be untruthful.

I’m sorry.

I said I wouldn’t judge.

Perhaps he got his 84 cent French fries and was looking for an 84 cent Forty to wash those French fries down. French fries can be very salty. Instead of looking for alcohol, maybe he should have purchased a cup of coffee. It would give him some liquid to wash his fries down while also warming him up inside.

I think you can still buy a cup of coffee for 84 cents these days. Not the robust coffee, but a simple out-of-the-can blend is definitely within his price range. I doubt Norman was a coffee drinker any more. As he walked down the street, yuppies would be sitting out on the sidewalk, enjoying their lattes and talking about the need for change and the will to help people. As Norman walks by, the yuppies’ eyes are focused on their mocha-colored beverage, quiet until Norman is out of sight.

It’s treatment like that that leads people like Norman, people who are outdoor bums, to drink heavily. The type of bums addicted to the sun, constantly suffering from withdrawals when shielded from their only source of Vitamin D and just looking for change from anyone who’s pockets jingle. Life hasn’t been good to Norman and maybe a Forty will help him forget about all of his worries – such as his lack of living arrangements and missing spray bottle of Febreze.

Those of us who can help should be able to look guys like Norman in the eyes and see a fellow human being, suffering. The bums are not there for our amusement, not there to be ignored or laughed at. We should be willing to help these unfortunate souls, assuming they are being truthful with us, which I’m still not sure Norman was.

Eighty-four cents for a French fry?

I’m just not buying it.

The Build-a-Baldwin Workshop

Who amongst us hasn’t watched a TV show or movie then thought halfway through that the picture would be much better if it had a Baldwin in it? The more you watched the show and looked at the underlying themes and overall mood of the production, you find yourself unable to think of the proper Baldwin for the role.

Lucky for you, I am here today to provide you with the fundamental steps you must follow to create your own power character. A real tour-de-force in Hollywood. The type of actor that gets cast more for his name than any other reason. Today, we are going to add to the already impressive stable of Baldwins one can find out in LA.

Using the tools at our disposable, we are going to create a brand new Baldwin.

Since we lack the necessary God-like powers to create a person using only the dust of the Earth and because genetic engineering has not evolved to the point of it being a viable technology for from-scratch thespian creation, we are grateful to have a series of Baldwin templates already at our disposal. These templates will provide us with a solid base for which we can build upon.

1. Alec Baldwin

He is the funny one as well as the famous one. Really, he’s the Baldwin that all other Baldwins strive for. Mr. Schweaty Balls himself really knows how to deliver a solid pun with the proper pitch and timing. I go through life feeling more secure in humanity knowing that somewhere out there, Alec Baldwin is acting.

2. Stephen Baldwin

While Alec may be the bee’s knees for some, others may find him a bit too high falutent. For those folks, you may want to consider Stephen Baldwin. Stephen is the goofy dope of the Baldwins. Many folks consider Stephen to be second in command of the family. When you need a famous last name for your picture, you give Stephen a call and hope for strong DVD sales. Be leery about choosing this template though as sometimes he comes packaged with Pauly Shore. The packaged deal could end up diluting your Baldwin experience.

3. Daniel Baldwin

Another template to consider is the infamous Daniel Baldwin, the drug addict renegade and memorable star of The Beach Party at the Threshold of Hell. He’s the butter pecan ice cream of the Baldwin stable of actors. While we accept the fact that he exists, when given the choice, we would much rather prefer a different flavor.

4. Joseph Baldwin

If you don’t want to settle for a Baldwin brother, then you may want to try Joseph Baldwin. He’s a cousin to the Big Four. The most notable thing about Joseph is that he was born with a very fortunate last name. I would be willing to bet that he also makes a mean pasta fagioli, or at least I hope. Otherwise, not too much is happening here.

5. William Baldwin

Then we have William Baldwin – brother to Alec, Stephen, and Daniel. William plays the very important role of being the extra. Without being demeaning, he’s the sidekick Baldwin. You may be watching a show, then all of a sudden it’s like, “That’s a Baldwin!” or “Hey, that must be Joseph’s cousin!” William is the Baldwin that is most easily mistaken for other Baldwins.

6. Adam Baldwin

Finally, there is Adam Baldwin. He’s the tough guy outsider who grew up on the mean streets, the man who follows his own rules. He’s also the Baldwin that actually has no relation to any of the five Baldwins mentioned above. This, however, just furthers his tough guy image. Even if he is just a Baldwin in name only, he’s still a Baldwin to me.

After closely evaluating our Baldwin templates, I’m leaning towards William Baldwin as the basis for our new Baldwin. He’s not a show-stopper by any means. But I feel like he has certain qualities that will make our freshly created Baldwin a top-notch creation.

The thing you need to keep in mind is that a Baldwin is good in a small time role for a big time picture. To take it further, I think a Baldwin should focus more on television. Twenty minutes of screen time is more than enough for a Baldwin. The simple fact is that you put “Baldwin” in the credits, you will have a ratings bonanza on your hands. Be sure not to get too “Baldwiny” though or else you may have another Bio-Dome on your hands. Knowing this, a Baldwin based on William would be most likely to not only accept this type of role, but also succeed in it.

Going forward, I picture our new Baldwin possibly playing a secondary character in a movie. More likely though, he will be one of the leading roles in a new television series. Maybe even a guest star appearance in an established franchise; that’s something else worth considering.

With a goal in mind, we must give our new Baldwin a name.

After thinking about it some, I have decided to name my Baldwin…Marty. The name itself falls within the character number limit of Baldwin names (as a rule of thumb, always name your Baldwin using 4 to 8 characters). It’s also completely different than the other Baldwin names out there so we will be adding something new here too.

Now that we have a name and a role, we must give Marty Baldwin a gimmick. You don’t want to overlap what’s already there in the Baldwin universe. For example, you can’t have two funny Baldwins or else you create a Baldwin dichotomy that the public won’t be able to properly process.

After looking at what’s already out there, I found a big hole that I think Marty can fill nicely – the sweet and sensitive type. He’s the quiet man that shies away from the media. Paparazzi will follow Marty Baldwin around and he will lower his head and turn his eyes away, embarrassed by all the attention. However, as the cameras are flashing as he walks down the Strip, a small grin appears on Marty’s face, the type of grin that is just large enough to notice and melt away the teeny-boppers’ hearts that will surely become infatuated with the new Baldwin about to hit the market.

For his look, Marty prefers short, cropped, black hair; it’s a safe Baldwin look. While he’s capable of growing a distinguished beard, he only does so when the role he’s portraying calls for it. Otherwise, it’s a clean-shaven look for Mr. Baldwin! As for his wardrobe, a simple pair of jeans and a t-shirt will suffice. No Baldwin to date has had a distinctive style and Marty Baldwin will not be the first (perhaps that’s an opening you can fill with your own Baldwin???)

Last but not least, we must complete our Baldwin Personal Profile. The numbers that you enter here will dictate the type of person that your Baldwin will become. You have 100 B-Points to use. Check below to see Marty Baldwin’s personal profile:

DRAMATIC ACTING – 15; I don’t see this early in Marty’s career, but if he falls off the map, I’d like to think a nice dramatic role would start his career revival.

COMEDIC TIMING – 30; I definitely see Marty being more of the comedic type. I can just see Kate Hudson and Matthew McConaughney starring in another great romantic-comedy with Marty Baldwin playing the part of Matthew’s quirky best friend.

DECISION MAKING – 20; I want Marty Baldwin to make the best career choices possible. But like all Baldwins, he occasionally will make a dud.

POLITICAL ASPIRATIONS – 5; I prefer my Baldwin to play it safe and not turn anyone off. So less talking and more acting for Marty Baldwin.

CRITICAL ACCLAIM – 12; I see Marty Baldwin becoming more of an award show presenter than an actual honoree.

MUSICAL ABILITY – 1; Marty’s a kick ass whistler, but not much else in this department.

FOOD ALLERGIES – 8; I’m thinking peanut allergy.

DIRECTING DESIRES – 9; All actors have this secret desire to do a little directing and Marty Baldwin is no different.

With Marty Baldwin now created, he is ready to take on the world with all the bravado and gusto that being a Baldwin requires. You, too, will find that once you create a Baldwin, he is no longer under your control. You may be overwhelmed at first and feel compelled to find the best agent possible and hook up your Baldwin with the top production comany. When he gets his first gig, you will want to show up on set to meet the director and make sure your Baldwin is treated properly. The reality is, all you would be doing is smothering your Baldwin; don’t smother your Baldwin.

Based on the template chosen and the shtick selected, you can only hope that the new Baldwin makes the right career choices. Ideally, he manages to go through life and avoid the reality TV trap. I hope the same for my own Baldwin. If Marty Baldwin ends up on VH1, he will not only be embarrassing himself, but also the other Baldwins out there.

A Lively Weekend

I have no problem going to the top of the highest building or riding the tallest roller coaster. As long as they are in an enclosed case, I’m okay with snakes. Let one loose and I may freak out a little.

I’m not afraid of open spaces or of closed spaces. I’m not a hydrophobe or an airophobe or even a dirtophobe.

The greatest fear in my life is that one day, when I pass away, two strangers will come along and Weekend at Bernie me.

In my dream – or nightmare, if you will – I can never identify the people who play the parts once graced by the sublime Andrew McCarthy or the long-forgotten Jonathan Silverman. They are two faceless strangers that walk into my place where I am plopped on the coach. The only known thing about the situation is that I am playing the role once adored by Terry Kiser on the silver screen; a dead man wearing sunglasses, living (?????) by the beach. My greatest fear is ripe for comedy and classical slapstick.

Once they discover I’m dead and not napping, McCarthy and Silverman fear they might be accused of murder. So McCarthy and Silverman tie their legs to my legs and place their arms around my back as we walk up and down the beach, getting ourselves into various beach capers. People smile and wave. McCarthy takes my arm and wave back, flapping my arm around from side to side. People on the beach notice my limp wave and merely think that I’m a little down on life at the moment, but still very much alive.

Things start off innocent enough. Lounging by the pool or lying on the beach, always a half-filled glass of lemonade nearby to further the illusion that I am still alive. Everyday I’m wearing the same white pants and blue button-down shirt; others on the beach just assume I’m going with what works so why change it? Even though it is my greatest fear and my worst nightmare, I still look rather hunky in blue.

Soon, McCarthy and Silverman get bored with my deadness and send out invitations for the hottest party on the beach, a party that I will never be able to enjoy in my present condition. As the young hotties arrive, McCarthy and Silverman, with my ankles tied to theirs to simulate movement, walk around and awkwardly wave to all those in sight (for some reason, I always seem to be waving at people). But as the party moves on, I get dumped on the coach. People walk by and wave (people always seem to be waving at me too. It’s a vicious cycle, it seems. I guess that’s what makes it my greatest fear). Despite my lifelessness, people still look at me and say, “Hey!”

I say nothing.

Two scantily clad women in bikinis sit on the coach, one on each side. As my head tilts slightly to the side, one remarks how lifeless I look and how I remind them of that one guy from that one movie. Is it the aviator glasses? The manly mustache? I can’t say for certain what gives it away. The women, however, will never realize just how accurate they are in their comparison. It’s just another case of vintage bimbo-ism for which there is no cure.

As word of the party gets out, mullet-sporting mob members arrive, armed with syringes, thinking that I have the money when in reality, I am merely a plot device. McCarthy and Silverman are unaware of the mob men’s intentions; they sense things could get ugly. They pick me up by the arm pits, wave goodbye to the bimbos, and we soon escape to my laboratory.

In my greatest fear, I own a laboratory.

With no regards to my reputation, McCarthy and Silverman begin work on a cure for small pox, even though one already exists (I think). They grab my arms and mix various chemicals in beakers. Take some of the red goo, pour in some green liquid. Mix vigorously and see what happens. To view the results, McCarthy and Silverman lower my head towards the microscope and they’ll laugh and laugh and laugh. Being away from the mullet-sporting mob men is of great relief to them.

As my research on small pox progresses, the two start to publicize my results. They’ll even issue press releases about my breakthrough in my small pox vaccine. I will be humiliated. People will view me not as the man curing an already cured disease, but rather, as the man who issued a press release that the AP ignored.

Because of McCarthy and Silverman’s stupidity, the Mullet Mob finds out where I am hiding and they come after me. Naturally, I have very little to fear. McCarthy and Silverman, on the other hand, evidentially have a reason to live – mainly due to their ability to live. This contrasts nicely with my inability to live since I’ve been Weekend at Bernie-ed.

It gets complicated, but stay with me…

We soon escape to a yacht floating just off the beach. Due to a clerical error by the yacht captain – played by Gilfrod Godfry in an unforgettable cameo – I am entered in a shuffle board tournament with the middle-aged, single beauty, Holly. Unaware of my condition, Holly stands behind me, sensually grabs my arms and pushes the shuffleboard thingy towards the end of the shuffleboard court as we try to score a goal and put some points on the shuffleboard.

As we get to know each other, Holly falls in love with my great listening ability. Because of my quiet sensitivity, we soon are lying on the beach below the full moon. Waves are crashing on the beach, wetting the sand and exposing the clams.

Before it gets too kinky, McCarthy and Silverman reappear and interrupt our night swimming. They pick me up, make the idle excuse that I passed out drunk, and leave Holly alone on the beach, waving goodbye. My greatest fear only gets worse as I am pried apart from my shuffleboard seductress, unable to wave back. My only hope is that some day the love of my life gets Weekend at Bernie-ed “too.”