In 1973, the Lee Majors television show The Six Million Dollar Man debuted on ABC. The show followed Steve Austin, an astronaut who was injured when his spaceship crashed and whose body was rebuilt by the government using machine parts.
Basically, they turned him into a cyborg.
The show was popular enough to generate a spin-off (The Bionic Woman) and all sorts of toys and merchandise. As a child of the 1970s, I remember it fondly and even had a few action figures of my own to boast of.
Now it appears there is a new bionic man. His name is Mohammed Abad and he has only one bionic body part to speak of: his penis.
When this 43-year-old virgin from Scotland was only 6 years old, he was hit by a car and dragged 600 feet. His crotch took the brunt of the trauma and his genitals were completely sanded off, for lack of a better term. Fortunately, though, things improved for Abad more than thirty-seven years later.
After several years of skin grafts and operations, surgeons at University College London were able to create an 8-inch bionic penis for him. A button in Abad’s scrotum inflates his “member” with fluids from an implant lodged in his belly, enabling him to pleasure any woman brave enough to take the plunge, so to speak.
“When you want a bit of action you press the ‘on’ button,” Abad told reporters recently. “And when you are finished you press another button. It takes seconds. Some ladies might want to try it out.”
Of course, it’s probably only a matter of time before some porn production company tries to “cash in” on Abad’s cyborg wiener. They could call it The Six Million Dollar Manhood!
As hard as it is to believe—given all the scandal and hype leading up to the underwhelming Super Bowl XLIX—the “Big Game” broke U.S. television history by becoming the most watched show of all time.
Apparently, New England’s 28-24 victory over the Seattle Seahawks brought in more than 114 million viewers and became the highest-rated Super Bowl in the last 30 seasons… despite having the worst ending and the dumbest play call in SB history.
So congratulations to Tom Brady and the Patriots for chalking up another Super Bowl victory, the fourth of Brady’s career. Granted, he and his cohorts may have deflated some footballs to get there, but ultimately they won because Seattle decided against winning by throwing the ball on 2nd and goal.
I still can’t believe it…
Seriously, though, this isn’t the real Captain Kangaroo—otherwise known as Bob Keeshan, who passed away in 2004. It’s Andrew Howard Brannan, a 66-year-old cop killer recently executed for murdering a sheriff’s deputy in 1998.
The resemblance is uncanny, don’t you think?
I suppose that I should preface this post with a SPOILER ALERT. Those of you who have not yet seen last night’s midseason finale of AMC’s hit show The Walking Dead should probably stop reading now. The news I have to report is not good.
As has been the case with past midseason finales—most notably last season’s beheading of Hershel by the Governor—another beloved character has been killed. Last night saw the quiet, pure and unassuming Beth meet her untimely end at the hands of Dawn, a cop gunned down seconds later by Daryl.
Now Glenn is the only “family” that Maggie has left.
Like many other fans, I was shocked to see Dawn accidentally blow Beth’s head off following a scissor stab to the neck. I also expected a bloodbath to ensue with the remaining hospital survivors, but alas, two deaths seemed to be enough to pacify TWD gods. And like so many others, I was grateful for that.
So farewell, Beth. You will be missed.
Normally, I don’t post about YouTube videos since I can’t embed them on my blog. The ability to do that costs extra and, sadly, I don’t make enough money to afford such frivolous expenditures.
However, I sometimes run across videos I would be remiss not to share, like this one from East Hills Mall in St. Joseph, Missouri. This 30-second television commercial features a range of people who simply cannot sing. My personal favorite is a guy who repeats the catchy phrase “boots and pants.”
Check it out by going HERE… and prepare to laugh until your sides hurt!
Oh me! Oh life! of the questions of these recurring,
Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill’d with the foolish,
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the struggle ever renew’d,
Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me,
Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me intertwined,
The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?
That you are here—that life exists and identity,
That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.
I can’t believe he’s gone.
Around noon yesterday, police found the lifeless body of beloved actor Robin Williams in his Tiburon, California home. According to the most recent reports, he died of asphyxiation, the victim of an apparent suicide.
Like millions of other fans around the world, I am in complete and utter shock.
I mean, I knew Williams struggled with depression after surviving addictions to both cocaine and alcohol. I just didn’t know things had gotten so bad that he would take his own life as a result. And now the world he once filled with joy and laughter seems a little darker and more depressing now that he’s gone.
Robin Williams first endeared himself to me in the television show Mork & Mindy, a spin-off of one of my other favorite shows of the late 1970s and early 1980s, Happy Days. He was quirky, energetic and downright hilarious. And it certainly didn’t hurt to have the sexy, high-waisted Pam Dawber at his side, either. I give her credit for planting the seed that eventually turned me into an ass man, but that’s neither here nor there.
During his career, Williams starred in some of the greatest and most entertaining films ever made, including Good Morning, Vietnam, The Fisher King, Mrs. Doubtfire, Hook and one of my personal favorites, The World According to Garp—an adaptation of my favorite John Irving novel. After being nominated for three Academy Awards, he finally took Oscar home for his performance in 1997’s Good Will Hunting—a film that also won golden statuettes for screenwriters Ben Affleck and Matt Damon.
Of course, it was Williams’ role in 1989’s Dead Poets Society that inspired me the most. As English professor John Keating, Williams encouraged students at an elite all-boys school to “seize the day” and to “suck the marrow” out of life. At the time, I had just graduated from high school and planned to attend college as a criminal justice major. However, thanks to Professor Keating and some other influential instructors, I soon changed my major to English and have never looked back. Thanks for that, Robin.
Oh yeah… it didn’t hurt that Williams and I shared the same home town, either: Chicago, Illinois.
Losing such a great talent is never easy, even though none of us really knew the man behind some of our most beloved characters. Robin Williams brought laughter to everyone he encountered—both on- and off-screen—and for fans who grew up with him—like me—it seems as if a family member has passed. Life just won’t be the same without him—and for now, the joy and laughter he once provided have been replaced by tears and sorrow.
Rest easy, my old friend. I miss you already.
Yesterday, the Huffington Post shared a 1973 personal ad placed by a Reddit user’s father that resurfaced recently.
At first glance, it may seem like a husband begging his estranged wife to return home, but the last line puts the entire ad into perspective.
I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!
I know that I’m a little behind since this news broke last month, but I want to give a quick “shout out” to the cast, writers and crew of arguably the best sitcom on television: The Big Bang Theory.
In March, CBS announced that it had renewed the popular comedy for three more years, effectively extending its life until 2017. Doing so actually made television history since TBBT became the first modern scripted program to be renewed for this length of time.
Granted, Comedy Central did the same for Tosh.0—which I suppose qualifies as a cable show rather than one on a major network—but let’s face it: Tosh.0 is no Big Bang Theory. I enjoy it, mind you, but I never wait for new episodes with the same excitement and anticipation as I do for Sheldon, Leonard, Penny and the rest of the Big Bang crowd.
So kudos, Big Bang, for making television history and—more importantly—thanks for providing us all with hilarious and intelligent entertainment. I know that I’ll be watching for the next three years… and perhaps even longer.
One of my favorite television mini-series—and arguably one of the best in the history of cable television—was HBO’s Band of Brothers. The series followed the members of Easy Company—part of the U.S. Army’s 101st Airborne division—as they fought through Europe during World War II.
And in terms of war-related drama and action, it simply doesn’t get any better.
Unfortunately, one of the “brothers” has passed away. SSgt. William “Wild Bill” Guarnere—portrayed on-screen by actor Frank John Hughes—died of a ruptured aneurism on Saturday night. He was 90 years old.
“He lived a good life,” Guarnere’s son said the morning after his death. “He traveled a lot [and] pretty much did everything he could have done.”
One of those things was serving our great nation and even losing a leg while trying to save one of his battlefield comrades. The best word to describe Guarnere—and I know of no one who might dispute this—is hero. And that is exactly what the world lost this weekend.
Rest in peace, Wild Bill. And thanks for everything…
Yesterday morning, the world lost a truly amazing talent, a comic genius and an all-around great person—actor, writer and director Harold Ramis—who passed away from complications resulting from autoimmune inflammatory vasculitis, a condition he battled for years. He was 69 years old.
Many remember Ramis as the quirky and nerdy Dr. Egon Spengler from two of his best known films, Ghostbusters and Ghostbusters II. Others remember him as the foil to Bill Murray in Stripes, another Ramis classic. But the man who appeared on-screen was only a small part of who Ramis really was— it was his off-screen success that truly changed the face of comedy.
Ramis’ journey to comic greatness began in the late 1960s and early 1970s. After working a variety of jobs—as a substitute school teacher, freelance writer for the Chicago Daily News and joke editor for Playboy magazine—he began studying and performing with Chicago’s Second City improvisational comedy troupe. Ramis left the troupe briefly and was replaced by another famous comedy performer—the great John Belushi—but returned in 1972 with friend and collaborator Bill Murray.
Together with Belushi, Murray and others—among them Christopher Guest and Gilda Radner—Ramis starred in The National Lampoon Show and eventually became a performer and head writer for SCTV, a direct competitor of another well-known comedy show, Saturday Night Live. And though acting would always have a place in his life, it was writing and directing that truly showcased Ramis’ talents.
Among the films Ramis is best known for—aside from those already mentioned—are some of my favorite comedies of all time: National Lampoon’s Animal House, Groundhog Day, Meatballs, Back to School, Caddyshack, National Lampoon’s Vacation and Club Paradise, to name a few. And with a resume like that, how could he not be great?
Ramis’ long-time friend and colleague—Dan Aykroyd—reacted to the news of his death on Facebook: “Deeply saddened to hear of the passing of my brilliant, gifted, funny friend, co-writer/performer and teacher Harold Ramis. May he now get the answers he was always seeking.” Steve Carell worked with Ramis on The Office and described him as “funny, gracious [and] kind-hearted,” all words that only scratch the surface of this great man and the joy he brought to so many.
Yes, Monday was a sad day for entertainment, but I feel an even deeper sense of loss since I grew up with Harold Ramis and his films. And I’m sure there are plenty of others who feel the same. It’s always sad to lose a great talent—especially one who brought laughter into the lives of so many—but it’s worse to lose a great human being… and that’s precisely what Harold Ramis was.
Rest in peace, my friend. I miss you already.