September 1st
Let’s take a look at the box scores of certain NYC teams. According to an article at nypost.com, edited by yours truly: With four more months left in 2020, the Big Apple has logged 1004 shootings as of 8/30. Last year at this time there had been 537.
Given what goes on in many NYC schools, it’s understandable that many teachers want to delay a return to the classroom for as long as possible. The virus allows them a valid excuse.
Here’s an interesting headline from foxnews.com: “Progressives demand Portland’s mayor, police chief resign after fatal shooting.” Will replacing him with another liberal change anything?… And here’s my favorite of the day: “Philly mayor apologizes after photo shows him dining indoors in Maryland, despite restrictions in home city.” Unfortunately, most politicians do not feel shame. They wholeheartedly believe in entitlement.
From force of habit, I clicked on a Yahoo Sports article about the winners and losers of the MLB trade deadline. I recognized only a few player names.
RIP John Thompson, 78. I was not a fan, but there’s no denying his accomplishments. A member of the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame and National Collegiate Basketball Hall of Fame, his career spanned 1966-’99. As a player, his high school team won three consecutive city championships in DC. At Providence he was a member of the 1963 NIT Champions and, upon graduation, was the Friars’ all-time leader in points, scoring average and field goal percentage, and second in rebounds. He played for the Celtics from ‘64-’66, enjoying two NBA championships in that span. Hired from his position as a high school coach, he turned Georgetown into a national power, winning the NCAA Championship in 1984, compiling a record of 596–239. He won seven Coach of the Year awards. 26 of his players were selected in the NBA draft. After leaving coaching, he worked in TV and radio. Georgetown’s John R. Thompson Intercollegiate Athletic Center was completed in 2016. Well done, sir.
Again, Movies!, channel 5–2 on over the air antennas in NYC, allowed me a look at a film that I ignored through the decades. Scarecrow (1973), starring Gene Hackman and Al Pacino, is the story of a brawling ex-con who befriends an ex-sailor while hitchhiking east. It is episodic character-driven work. Oddly, Pacino’s character is the more likable. The roles gave each man an opportunity to display his chops. Flicks of the ‘70’s have a look and style of which I’m not a fan overall. Anti-heroes were often front and center, and America was portrayed as bleak. Somehow I got through the two-and-a-half hour running time, which included commercials. I was often uncomfortable, which is not necessarily bad. It’s not a film I’d care to see again. Garry Michael White wrote the screenplay, his first. There are nine other titles under his name at IMDb. His latest — first since 1991- has completed filming. Director Jerry Schatzberg received the Palme d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival. The film received no awards stateside, but was lauded by several critics and has become a cult classic. A sequel has been written but not filmed. Schatzberg, born in the Bronx, still living at 93, began as a magazine photographer, and shot the cover photo for Bob Dylan’s Blonde om Blonde album. He directed 16 films, The Panic in Needle Park (1971), which also starred Pacino, the second most notable in his canon. I’m unsure of the significance of the title of Scarecrow. At one point Pacino says: “… he doesn’t scare the crows; he makes them laugh.” That seems to fit his character and, at one point, his personality seems to rub off on his belligerent traveling companion, who does a striptease in a bar while David Rose’s The Stripper is playing on the jukebox. Here are the stars in character:
As soon as I had the display in place, it started to rain. I covered it up and sat in the car. 15 minutes later I was back in business. My thanks to the kind folks who bought books across a wide spectrum, especially the young man who delayed the closing, taking a long look, buying three works of non-fiction. Because of that, I was still there when Marcia came along, whipped out the list of Danielle Steel titles she’s read, and found four she hasn’t. Sometimes you just get lucky.
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