Potpourri

I was a fan of wrestling’s The Unpredictable Johnny Rodz in the ‘80’s, not because of his ring prowess but because of his antics, his expertise at silly fun. I’d laugh whenever I spotted placards for neighborhood shows in store windows that billed him as “Brooklyn Champ.” I never saw him win a match on TV. He was fodder, “enhancement talent,” for the stars but, unlike his jobber brethren such as the pride of Columbus Ohio Frankie Williams, always put up a good fight. This week in two youtube videos of MSG cards, I was stunned to see him win in each of the opening matches. The McMahons threw him a bone once in a while. According to profightdb.com, he won nine times at MSG. He trained many wrestlers, including Tazz and the Dudleys, out of Gleason’s Gym in Brooklyn. He entered the WWE Hall of Fame in 1996. He’s 82. Frankie Williams is not in the Hall. I doubt he was ever allowed to win a match. His last appearance in the WWF was in the mid ‘80’s on Piper’s Pit, where Rowdy Roddy humiliated him verbally and physically.

I’ve taken my temperature every morning for at least two months. I don’t come close to the normal 98.6. The highest it’s been is 98. Does that mean I’m cold-blooded?

I’ve been dealing with a back issue this week. On a pain scale of one-to-ten, it was a six at its height. It’s down to a one. I have no idea what caused it. I’m sure it wasn’t the lifting of heavy book crates and boxes, as it first hit me in the morning. On two of the days I took two ibuprofen. It helped. I’m also avoiding laying on my left side, as the problem has shifted there from the middle of my lower back.

Some folks haven’t gotten the message of unity, as this nypost.com headline shows: “Leftist protesters wreak havoc in Portland, vandalize Oregon’s Dem headquarters.” There was also trouble in Seattle. They helped him get elected and now demand quid pro quo.

Recently I’d wondered about the lack of news concerning Iraq. Today’s was grim, from a headline at foxnews.com: “Twin suicide bombings rock central Baghdad, at least 32 dead.”

It was another gorgeous January day. Unfortunately, business at the floating book shop was pathetic. My thanks to the young man who bought Homer’s The Iliad.

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