Here's the Story...of a Boy Named Brady...

For those of us who grew up as fans of ‘60s and early ‘70s TV there are just some things that should have been kept secret. It’s probably lucky we find out about these things as adults because by then it’s a bit too late to taint our nostalgia, but just the same…

Take for instance Greg Brady. Super groovy cool big bro of the Brady brood. Now did we really need the revelation the eldest Brady boy was learning the facts of life from Mama Brady? Um, no. While at the same time imparting those very same facts to Marsha Brady? Um, eew. And let’s not even get started on Papa Brady and what he was, er, up to. And just what were Alice and Sam doing sneaking around late at night anyway?

Meanwhile over at the Partridge house…oh, yeah, Keith and Lori. Hey, hey with the Monkee love. And little Danny? Somebody probably should have neutered that pesky little reprobate.

Oh, and on the set of Bewitched? Who knew Darren number 2 was really much friendlier with Uncle Arthur than Samantha? Not me as a tike, and I am really glad I didn’t, lemme tell you.

Well, what about our heroes, Batman and Robin? Apparently they spent all their spare time from chasing bad guys chasing skirts. Burt Ward wasn’t called the Boy Wonder for nuthin’. Holy Hooters, Batman.

And last but not least, poor innocent Mary Ann…recently nabbed for possession. Ok, that one might explain a lot about what was going on on Gilligan’s Island and just what she was putting into those coconut cream pies. The skipper wasn’t belly laughing randomly for no reason and Ole Gilligan wasn’t running into trees and tripping over everything in sight because he needed glases. Which makes me even more worried about that “Little Buddy” thing they had going on…

Chloe's a gal usually in trouble--the supernatural kind...
A cursed locket, a child's rhyme and monkey with an attitude lead to terror...
In trade paperback: The Chloe Files #1: Ashes to Ashes
From Golden Perils Press: http://www.lulu.com/goldenperils
Author homepage: http://www.howardhopkins.com

A Little Cheesy

I’ve been wondering about cheese. People love cheese. Extra cheese on my pizza, please. Load those nachos up with double cheese. But it’s a love-hate kinda thing, isn’t it?

Because when you think about it, some not so pleasant things are associated with the word cheese.

When folks say something is cheesy, well, it is generally not meant in a positive sense. When we get mad some of us get cheesed off. And of course there’s nothing good whatsoever about the phrase “cut the cheese.” Unless you’re five and farting still makes perfect sense as a joke. Or you’re forty and in a quiet church and somebody rips one on a pew. Of course, we also have toe cheese and another particularly nasty bodily cheese reference I won’t mention here. If you have no clue what I mean, trust me, you don’t want to know.

And then there’s the smell factor. Ever been in a real cheese shop? I have. In Holland. I’m not sure I have ever smelled anything quite like it. Except maybe a couple weeks ago when I was lucky enough to be waiting in a parking lot next to an open septic tank cleaning operation. I was pulling cheese off stuff for a couple weeks after being in that shop. It was no Gouda.

Oh, and then there’s that blue cheese stuff. Now I’m as happy as the next guy to have my food covered with a half inch of mold, but…well, it’s good on hot wings, so what the hell. And do we really want to see cheese made? I know there’s nothing I enjoy more than watching milk curdle.

And of course foot odor come remarkably close to what I smelled in that cheese shop. And don’t even get me started on Cheese Whiz…

Oh, well, still we love cheese, despite its bad connotations and pungent properties. Unless you’re lactose intolerant, of course. But that’s a whole other column…