"Smothered" In Quotes

You will most likely notice that a couple of the scenes are a little off-sync picture-wise, but the ones that went with the dialog were... well...boring. So, I improvised with better pictures of "you know who."

First Set:


Second Set:


Just Because:
And just for the hell of it, I give you the BTSOH scene all by itself. Forget the dialog. Who cares what he was saying...he just looked so unbelievably yummy in this scene. The shirt, the jeans, the hair, the expressive face...and just a "hint" of stubble. It's all there, wrapped-up in one big, gorgeous hunka-doodle-do package we call Detective Robert Goren.

Betrayed...Just Bobby

A fleeting look back at Bobby from "Betrayed" to get me all psyched-up for tomorrow's episode with the incredibly long name that starts with "Please Note" and ends with "Kissinger." He's so pretty...in a completely virile, masculine sort of way.

My Most Memorable 4th Of July

For years, the A&E network broadcast a show called “Pop Goes The Fourth” live from Boston, starting around 7:30p.m. and running through until around 10:00p.m. or so. There were musical guests and performances by the Boston Pops Esplanade Orchestra in which they played a wide variety of tunes, sprinkled with a generous portion of patriotic melodies. They were especially famous for their rendition of Tchaikovsky’s "1812 Overture," complete with booming fireworks and exploding cannonades. The festivities always culminated with one of the most spectacular fireworks shows I have ever seen… synchronized to music. Remember, I was watching all of this on TV and was impressed by its grandeur, I could only imagine what it would be like to experience it in person. I always told everyone that one thing I wanted to do before I die was to be in Boston on the 4^th of July to experience this “party” firsthand.

Now, I realize there are similar events…that are just as impressive…that take place in every major city in this great land of ours, but I was most familiar with Boston’s 4^th of July party because of the exposure it received on A&E. So, back in 1999, I got my brother, Harold, and sister-in-law, Patty (whose birthday just happens to be July 4^th) to watch the show. Afterwards, Harold told me if I wanted to plan a trip to Boston for the following summer, they were on board.

So, during the winter and into the spring, we made our plans. You must understand, we are a baseball family, so once I knew for sure the trip was on, I started checking baseball schedules for teams en route to Boston. The Red Sox were out of town, so no luck there, but the Phillies and Mets were playing at home, so I was able to get us tickets for a Friday night game between the Phillies and Pirates and the Saturday day game between the Mets and Braves.

Harold and Patty rented a car and drove to Cincinnati to pick me up on Thursday, June 29^th. Now, it probably would have been easier for them if I had gone in their direction, but I happened to have Reds tickets for a day game that day…not just any tickets mind you. I had Marge Schott’s seats (former owner of the Reds) in the second row behind the Reds on deck circle. I was close enough I could have reached out and touched the guys' nice, firm butts. I didn’t, but I was close enough. Oh, I guess I should also mention that the Reds were playing the Cardinals and that was back when Mark McGwire was with the team, and I had a thing for McGwire and...welll...blah, blah, blah.

After the game, I hurried home to meet up with H&P. We loaded my stuff into the car and we were off on our Boston adventure. Harold and I split the driving time and that first night we made it pretty far into Pennsylvania. We got into Philadelphia with enough time to spare on Friday to allow us time for a nice lunch, a visit to the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall and a carriage ride through the historic district before heading over to the stadium for the ball game.

I don’t remember much about the game that night other than the fact that Randy Wolf pitched for the Phillies, and he had a fan following called the “Wolf Pack.” They were an absolute hoot to watch. They dressed up in wolf masks and sat in the upper deck and danced and pranced about when he struck out batters and such. It was fun. The Phillies had a pretty impressive fireworks show after the game, but that was just a prelude of what was to come.

The next morning, we were up and on the road early in our quest to get to Shea Stadium for the Mets game. My sister-in-law had never seen the Statue of Liberty, and that was the only request she had made of this entire trip…she wanted to see the Statue. She didn’t necessarily want to take the boat over to the Statue, she was content just to admire it from a distance. So, Harold had mapped out the route that took us into the park where you caught the ferry over to Lady Liberty. We got out and looked around, Patty got to see the Statue and when we turned around, there was a spectacular view of Manhattan…including the World Trade Center.

Then it was back in the car and a drive through Manhattan to Queens and Flushing Meadows. Ah, if it had only been that simple. I was the pilot…Harold was the navigator. Actually, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Granted, it is not a trip I would care to make alone...driving through New York City. We made a few wrong turns and had to double back a couple of times, (I think we crossed the same bridge…like…six times) but eventually…and without a lot of yelling and screaming at one another…we found our way to Shea Stadium before the first pitch.

We were squeezed-in like sardines in our upper deck seats, Mike Piazza hit a monster home run, and they played “Macho Man” as he circled the bases. That was the first time the Braves had been back in New York following the racist comments Braves pitcher John Rocker had made about New York and the people who rode the Number 7 train to the ballpark, so security was tight. There were a couple of Braves fans sitting in front of us and they looked scared…didn’t open their mouths throughout the game. I mean, if you're gonna be brazen enough to wear the opposing team's colors in their ballpark; especially Braves get-up after what Rocker said, then you better be prepared to take a little verbal razzing.

After the game, Harold drove us to the next stopping off point…somewhere in Connecticut. The thing we remember about this leg of the journey was, as we were driving along this very busy expressway…I mean there were five or six lanes of traffic going in each direction…we were passed by a couple of guys on motorcycles. Now, what is significant to note is, they passed us “between” vehicles…not from their own, individual lane. Then, as they were speeding along…Harold said we were going 70 mph, so who knows how fast these nitwits were going…one of the guys STOOD UP on his bike and proceeded to “ride” like that for several seconds. (Remember my mantra…idiots and assholes…they’re everywhere.) We still talk about this…lunatic. Only time on the trip I recall "white knuckling" the dashboard; if this moron would have wiped out, he would have taken a whole lot of people with him.

Anyway, we arrived in Boston on Sunday in time to do a little sight-seeing. We started walking the “Freedom Trail” and went back and picked up where we left off and finished the tour on Monday. We got to see things I had only read about or seen pictures of…things like Boston Common, Old North Church, the site of the Boston Massacre, the USS Constitution (“Old Ironsides”) and the Charlestown Navy Yard. I was a history major in college, so I ate up this stuff with a spoon. All that walking about killed me, but it was worth it, and I'm glad I had the opportunity to do it then because there is no way I could do it now.

The next day, Tuesday, was the 4^th of July. Now, I had read and researched this event for years and I knew that in order to get the absolutely BEST “seats” in the pavilion area…you had to get there early…like by five or six in the morning. There was no way H&P were going to do that, so I contented myself with getting there around 8:00a.m. The pavilion was full by then, but we did find a nice shady and grassy spot along the Charles River, not too far removed from the stage area. We had brought a cooler with us, but luckily there were food vendors and restroom facilities close-by.

It was a long day, however, waiting for the show to start at 7:30p.m. Patty and I took a boat ride along the Charles River and the harbor to break up the monotony while Harold remained behind to “guard” our little spot of grass to which we had laid claim. By the time the show started, the river was lined with boats and the riverbank was crowded with people. Back then, they estimated that…approximately…750,000 people attend this event. Now it is closer to a million. That’s just wayyyyyyyyy too many people, folks. I could not handle that crowd today.

But I did then…and it was great. Granted, I would have liked to have found a space inside the pavilion where I could have seen the stage, but I got to hear the music…most of it...and got to hear those canon…in person…when they exploded in perfect synchronization with the "1812 Overture." And I got to see that splendiferous fireworks extravaganza in person. In short, I got to be in Boston on the 4^th of July…before I die. One thing I can check off my "Bucket List."

The trip back to the parking lot…on a CROWDED subway…is worthy of an entry of its own. I mean, everyone arrived intermittently throughout the day, but once the party was over…everyone headed home at the same time. I’ve never seen or experienced anything like it in my life. There is a reason I live in a “relatively” small town. Cincinnati is sometimes…most times…too big for my liking. There is no way I could handle living in a city like Boston or New York.

The next day, we slept in a bit, then drove in to Fenway Park to take a tour of the ballpark. The two kids…and they were high school and college-aged young men and lifelong friends…who conducted the tour knew more about Red Sox history than the most wizened baseball historian. They told great stories about the park and players and superstitions and curses. We got to sit in the Red Sox dugout. I have a picture of my brother sitting in that dugout that has seen the likes of Carl Yastrzemski, Carlton Fisk, and Louis Tiant. He was 56 years old at the time and looked like a giddy twelve-year old…grinning ear to ear…in that photo. It’s one of my favorite pictures of him. I, myself, who shy away from the camera…with good reason…actually requested to have my picture taken in front of the “green monster.” No one will ever see it but me, but it does exist.

All in all…it was a good day…a great trip, but it wasn’t over yet.

When we left Boston the following morning, we drove across the state of New York to Cooperstown. Yep, our predominantly baseball vacation culminated with a visit to that most hallowed of all baseball venues…The Baseball Hall of Fame. That was a couple of years after Mark McGwire had broken Roger Maris’s single season home run record of 61 by blasting a total of 70 dingers in 1998. That was pre-steroid accusations and denials and congressional hearings and not being forthcoming with answers and such, however.

There was a significant display of McGwire paraphernalia at the HOF. After I looked around all I wanted, you know, checked out the Reds stuff…especially Johnny Bench, I sort of naturally gravitated back to the display on “Big Mac.” I was just sitting there, obviously look a wee bit moonstruck at the bat and glove and uniform and spikes (he had HUGE feet) that were featured in this tall, circular, glass enclosure when this man walks up to me. He looked at me looking with longing at the McGwire exhibit, and he said, “Have you had your picture taken beside it yet?” I told him no, and he offered to do the honors, so I handed him my camera and I did the “standard” pose by the glass display and the nice gentleman took the picture.

Then, on impulse, I said, “Just one more.” And then I actually wrapped my arms around the display as far as they would go and “kissed” the glass…thank God no alarms sounded…and he snapped that photo as well. Hey, I figured that was the closest I was ever gonna get to the man, so why not? Turns out, I did have another opportunity…sort of…but that is a story for another time.

Oh, and I have to say that, for an institution that stalwartly refuses to "formally" induct one Peter Edward Rose into its austere midst, the man's name is plastered all over the place. He played the game, he accumulated the stats, he made the records. Yeah, he screwed up and bet on baseball. He's a schmuck in real life, but he was one hell of a ballplayer. So...like...get over it already. (I'll climb back down off my soapbox now.)

Next day, we drove back to Cincinnati and Harold and Patty drove on home to South Point. So, that brings to a conclusion the novella that was our baseball/4^th of July vacation back in 2000. I enjoyed recounting it…remembering the fun we had. I, of course, did a YouTube search and found a couple of Boston Pops videos from previous 4^th of July celebrations. It will get me in the mood for watching "A Capitol Fourth" later this evening.

The first video is by JimTheUmp and features the "Star Spangled Banner" and the end of the "1812 Overture" and the second one is by ZobVa and features "Stars & Stripes Forever."




Okay, that's it for the day. I'm officially done "flag waving."

God Bless The U.S.A.

Well, I had not planned to do a typical I'm proud to be an American, red, white and blue "rah rah" post today, and yet here I am doing precisely that. Later, I plan to do a post about my favorite 4th of July of all time, but for now here is the "typical" one. No offense to my blogging friends from the U.K. It was a thing...it happened. We're all friends and allies now.

I'm not big on making "political" statements. I'll leave that to those of you who are far more knowledgeable and eloquent in that arena than am I. I am not, however, always proud of some of the things our political leaders do in the name of democracy or freedom. I happen to agree with Music Wench's 4th of July post in that there are times when I do not necessarily love my government, but I do love my country.

So, on this day, when I am reminded that I live in a land that was founded for such basic and noble things as religious freedom...that, as a nation, "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator, with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness," (No, that's not the "Age of Aquarius" by the Fifth Dimension...that's our Declaration of Independence) then I guess when all is said and done...at the end of the day...I have to admit that, yes, I am indeed "Proud To Be An American."

Perhaps these videos I found on YouTube can best express the sentiment felt by Americans throughout the land on this 4th of July. The first is a series of photos put together to the music of "God Bless The U.S.A" sung by Lee Greenwood and posted by steev1969. The second is Martina McBride singing "God Bless America," and it was posted by mikel9955.

Knocking On The Door To The Hall Of Fame

I have been so preoccupied with posts of Detective Goren, LOCI episodes, and possible family-felons of late that I have been remiss in neglecting my first, true love…baseball. So much so in fact that June 9th has come and long gone…the night “the kid” (Ken Griffey, Jr.) hit his 600th home run, and I haven’t even mentioned it in passing. I am really slipping, folks.

I have to confess that I have never been a diehard Junior fan. I saw his dad play with the “Big Red Machine” of the 1970’s. Now, those were the days, my friends. Johnny Bench, Joe Morgan, Tony Perez, Pete Rose, Griffey, Sr. and George Foster…ah...the sweet, happy memories those gentlemen conjure in my mind. That was back when baseball was baseball; i.e., no steroids or growth hormones, no obscenely ridiculous salaries, no pitch counts, and...more importantly...no freakin' cheerleaders prancing about in short costumes. Hello!! It's baseball!

When the Reds traded a bunch of players for Junior back in 2000, I think I was the only person in Cincinnati who wasn’t overjoyed with the trade. I mean, my only frame of reference of Junior was from clips I had seen of him on Sports Center…mainly of him making some spectacular play in the outfield; i.e., diving to the turf or leaping up against the wall. But, mostly, the image of Junior that stuck in my mind was after he hit a home run, instead of tossing his bad aside, lowering his head and going into his home run trot, he would stand there and watch the ball as it left the park…admire his handiwork…if you will.

Now, Junior didn’t initiate this trend and lord knows he won’t be the last ballplayer to stand at home plate and watch his "dinger" be swallowed by the warm summer night. It’s just that, well, I am an “old school” kind of baseball girl and there was a time when that kind of bush league, chicken shit behavior was considered “showing up” the pitcher. The way I see it, if you're the batter, you have already shown up the pitcher by jacking the ball out of the park, so get your scrawny ass on around the bases and take a seat in the dugout. You can admire yourself later on Sports Center.

All I can say is, it’s a good thing these young whippersnappers didn’t play “back in the day” when guys like Bob Gibson, Juan Marischal, or Don Drysdale (to name a few) pitched. Because, I promise you, if Junior had pulled that kind of crap on one of them, the next time he came up to bat, the first pitch to home plate would have been in his ear. At the very least, he would have been sucking dirt. It’s called “respect” and sadly that is one concept that is lacking in so many aspects of our lives these days.

I vividly remember the night Carl Lindner (primary owner of the Reds at the time) flew Junior to Cincinnati on his private jet for a press conference that was held down at the stadium to officially announce Junior’s addition to the team. The local press went nuts. WLW, the local NBC affiliate, aired a commercial (I saw it only once) that was short and sweet. There was a placard stating “Welcome home, Junior" or "Junior’s Home” (something like that) then that slide faded away and the next one slowly came into view, stating a brazen, “See you in the World Series.” Well, that’s all well and good and a nice sentiment and all, but that’s one hell of a burden to put on one guy. Baseball is, after all, a TEAM sport. That’s one hell of an expectation for a young man to be saddled with right off the bat.

I’m not going to list all of Junior’s accomplishments and the record or near record-breaking numbers he has accumulated over the years. There are tons of websites devoted to that sort of thing. I mean, if there is one thing that baseball is absolutely fanatical about…it’s statistics. They keep track of everything and I do mean everything. The thing that was supposed to be “special” for all concerned was the fact that Junior was coming home. His dad played in Cincinnati …was a part of the "Big Red Machine" that won back-to-back World Series championships in 1975 and 1976. Junior grew up here, went to school here…Cincinnati is his “hometown.”

But things did not go according to plan for Junior here in Cincinnati; ever since "coming home," his career has been plagued with injuries. And the fans…well…the fans have not always been kind to him. Hell, some of them have been downright abusive. I was at the game…game five of the 2003 season in the new ballpark, as I recall…when he dove for a ball in the outfield and dislocated his shoulder. Fans…and I’m using the term loosely here…in the stands above him actually “taunted” him as he lay writhing in pain on the field. What can I say…idiots and assholes…they’re everywhere.

Anyway, Junior has hit home runs number 400, 500 and now 600 – and all those in between – in a Reds uniform. My baseball buddy, Mark, who lives in St. Louis has always been a Griffey fan. When the trade was announced back in 2000, he told me that I would enjoy watching him play and kept talking about Griffey's “sweet swing.” Now, I’ve watched a lot of baseball in my time and I’ve seen a lot of ballplayers swing the bat, but I didn’t know what Mark meant until I saw it for myself. It is hard to describe, but when Junior is “on,” when he’s in a groove, he is really something to watch. And that sweet swing...well...it's like a hot knife cutting through butter...smooth and fluid.

Unfortunately for Reds fans…true followers of the game…Junior hit number 600 on the road in front of a paltry crowd of 16,000 in Florida against the Marlins. The game was on TV, but I missed seeing it “actually” hit because I was fiddling with my PC at the time. Of course, I saw it on replay any number of times, but I will always feel a bit cheated that I didn't see him hit it in...you know...real time.

Anyway, unlike his two most recent predecessors into the elite club of 600 home runs; i.e., Barry Bonds and Sammy Sosa, Junior’s record setting home run is not tainted with a shroud of doubt as to his character. Junior, in fact, did it the right way…with honor and integrity. To quote Hal McCoy, Hall of Fame sports writer for the "Dayton Daily News," “When home run No. 600 splashed down among a splattering of fans in the orange seats inside the right field foul pole of Dolphin Stadium at 7:22 Monday night, Ken Griffey, Jr., etched his name in history, and he did it with a clean pen.”

Junior’s name has never appeared on a police blotter for…well… anything. His name has never…ever…been linked with those who cheated to gain an unfair advantage, or with drugs or booze or philandering. From all appearances, Griffey is a family-man; respectful of his parents, a devoted husband and loving father…in short…a good man. There is no cloud of suspicion hanging over Junior’s head or his achievements. There will be no asterisk beside his name when it is carved into the hallowed halls at Cooperstown.

As I said, Junior’s career has been riddled with injuries since his arrival to Cincinnati. In fact, injuries from as minor as a dislocated toe to as devastating as a shredded hamstring, between 2000 and 2005 have cost him nearly 450 games (that’s just shy of three seasons) or it is entirely possible that he would have been the one to break Hank Aaron's all time home run record instead of that "other guy." At that infamous press conference, the one welcoming Junior to the Reds, he was introduced as the man who would break Aaron's record in a Reds uniform. Fate…destiny…they’re fickle critters.

The injury that befell Junior that still makes me wince when I think about is the one when he literally ripped his hamstring off the bone. (OUCH!) As Hal McCoy states, “He has played in more pain than any player should have to endure, and he did it without complaint or excuse. He has rebuilt knees and brackets and pins and plates imbedded in every nook and cranny of his body. Three screws in his tailbone keeps his hamstring attached to the bone, six screws hold his shoulders in place.” See what I mean, the man has spent more time in rehab than Lindsay Lohan. Oops…different kind of rehab…but you catch my meaning, don’t you, Bullwinkle?

But Griffey doesn’t complain about his “misfortune.” He says he doesn’t deal with “what-ifs.” He’s only interested in playing the game…as long as it is still fun…and helping his teammates win.

So, while Griffey still isn’t my “favorite” ballplayer, I have come to respect him for the man that he is and how he plays the game. Junior will be a free-agent at the end of this season. The Reds do have an option for 2009, but I doubt if they’ll exercise it. So, chances are, Junior will be wearing another uniform next year. I hope he goes back to the American League where he can DH. And just maybe, one day, I’ll turn on Sports Center to find that “the kid” who still...on occasion...wears his ball cap backwards, has hit No. 700. I sure hope so.

Reds Hall of Fame radio announcer, Marty Brennaman, makes the call.


A slideshow from photos I found in the days following the "historic event."

Get a load of those diamond studs he's sporting in both ears.

USA Promo

Please...just indulge me. I found a downloadable copy of the promo, and I posted it, so sue me. It's a disease. Not sure if it's fatal, but I'm fairly certain that it is quite contagious.

Is it me, or is the sound of that gun being cocked a little reminiscent of the "doink doink" sound we no longer get to enjoy on CI?


Law and Order: Criminal Intent – “Kissinger” Promo
Uploaded by USANetwork. Posted on the "Daily Motion" website by USA.

Please Note...Clip

Found this new site through a Google Alert for Vincent D'Onofrio. Guess this will have to tide us over until Sunday night...huh?



The clip was uploaded by ElectricArtists and can be found on www.Sharkle.com.