Yes, it’s time for another peek into my cyber-petri dish. For those who were dozing in biology class when microbiology was being discussed, a petri dish is a glass plate, which is coated with a substance that provides a place for bacteria to grow.

I unwittingly created my cyber-petri dish in January 2004 when I wrote a post about gang violence, which, since that day, has become something akin to a bulletin board where some of the practitioners of the art of gang violence come to share their ideas and opinions. On June 14 of this year, I invited you to take a peek at some of their pearls of wisdom.

Since that time, there have been in excess of sixty more thoughtful entries. I, therefore, invite you once again to have a look at some of these most intellectually stimulating entries. Again, I ask that you please not disturb them by commenting there, as they are best observed without any human interference.

I’ve been sitting here for far too long reading blogs, hoping to come up with something worth writing. No dice, so far. Anyway, daughter TJ and Mr. Surly are stopping by for a visit and a possible trip to a local eatery for some victuals.

I think I’ll sit and read a book (the thing with real paper pages) until they arrive.

Maybe something will strike me later. Then again, maybe not.

Early in the evening I couldn’t get to my site. I don’t know why. Sometimes goofy shit just happens. I went outside in the 94 degree temperature to do a little reading and to smoke a CAO Gold Robusto. The temperature dropped into the eighties. Like I said, sometimes goofy shit just happens. I put the cigar out and closed my eyes, and the next thing I knew it was dark and three hours later. The Booker’s Bourbon may have had something to do with it.

So, I came inside and fired up the net, and I was able to get to my site. Go figure.

Once there, I saw that V-Man is sporting a “Mr. Clean” tee shirt. Very cool, and it reminded me of a story that sounds like bullshit. I’m thinking I should tell it, knowing it to be true, but also knowing that it sounds like bullshit.

Anyway, here’s the story.

Back in the late fifties, I was a Boy Scout. In fact, I was a patrol leader. The troop met once per week in the basement of a local Presbyterian church. However, every other week, my patrol held a patrol meeting. Each meeting was held at the home of a different patrol member.

One week, the meeting was held at the home of Mike Morgan, a member of the patrol. (That is his real name. So, if there is a one a zillion chance that he will read this, he can confirm or deny this story.)

Anyway, Mike Morgan was damned near twice the size of the rest of us eleven and twelve year olds. We all wore the “stylish” shoes and clothes of the day, but Mike wore flannel shirts and work boots and looked seven or eight years older than the rest of us. He also seemed like a bit of a hick to me, but he was, nonetheless, a nice guy.

So, when I arrived at Mike’s house (actually it was an apartment over a store on the main street), I had expected to be greeted by a “mom,” which was what usually happened at patrol meetings. Instead, Mike himself came to the door and led me upstairs to the apartment, where several other patrol members had already arrived.

Before the meeting got underway, Mike explained that he lived in the apartment with his dad. I suppose he read the “mom-less” angst on everyone’s face. I remember secretly thinking that, being mom-less, might go a long way to explaining Mike’s general lack of “style” in shoes and clothing. I felt bad for having thought of him as a “hick”.

Then he dad walked into the room.

He was HUGE, and he had a completely bald head! (Only Yul Brynner had a completely bald head back then.) He was a lot bigger than Mike, and he wore the same kind of flannel shirt and work boots that Mike wore. He was a nice man, but I couldn’t help staring at this menacing looking giant.

Once his dad left the room, Mike explained that his dad was a professional wrestler, which I thought was pretty amazing. Then he said, “Do you know that stuff called ‘Mr. Clean?’ My dad was the model for ‘Mr. Clean.’” At the time, I had absolutely no doubt that Mike was telling the truth, and I believed that until this day.

So, when I came across V-Man’s post, I decided to tell my little “inside story.” However, for the hell of it, I Googled “Mr. Clean,” and I found THIS. WTF??? According to “Where Are They Now?” the original Mr. Clean was an enforcer for the mob, who was eventually plugged at the behest of Carlo Gambino, once he became too popular and began running his own scams.

Was Mike’s father the mob guy who would later wind up being shot in the head? Was he really a professional wrestler? Was he a guy who just happened to look like “Mr. Clean,” and maybe was a model for a then-current version of the label? Or, was the whole thing a Mike Morgan bullshit story?

Damned if I know.

And that’s the story.

Reading this post in “Down the Shore,” about the days when produce vendors would ride through neighborhoods in New Jersey selling produce from the back of trucks, reminded me of something even a bit further back in time.

I can remember when a few vendors still came around with a horse and wagon. Before you get to thinking that I’m as old as Methuselah, please note that I was in grammar school at the time, and I’m quite certain that these were the last holdouts for the use of “real” horsepower.

Growing up in North Jersey, in the shadow of Newark, it was always quite a treat for us to get a look at a horse up close and personal. I recall that they seemed to me to be really big, although I was quite small and plenty of things that looked big then don’t look nearly as big now (even Yankee Stadium). Having said that, they could well have been a special breed of horse that is built to pull heavy wagons. I suppose I don’t know any more about horses now than I did then.

There was also the fruit and vegetable guy. I believe his name was Gus, and, much like the produce vendor described in Down the Shore, Gus would write the name of the items and the prices on a brown paper bag and put them on sticks, which would serve as a signs. However, what I remember most about him was the unique way he would holler from the wagon to alert everyone, within earshot, of his presence.

Imagine, if you will, a W.C. Fields type of voice hollering, “PEACH-eye…Ta-MATE-ay…” I never did learn whether he could actually say “Peaches … Tomatoes.” It didn’t matter then, and it sure doesn’t matter now, but there’s no telling what kinds of things stay in one’s memory.

Then there was the “Rag Man.” He rode his wagon through the neighborhood collecting rags. I never knew his name or understood the economics of collecting rags, but I suspect that he paid the local residents something for their rags (presumably based on weight) and then resold them in bulk. Much like Gus the fruit and vegetable guy, the Rag Man had his own distinctive “Call”. It is difficult to convey with the printed word, but I’ll give it a shot.

Think of the tone of one’s voice when making the “Hee-Haw” sound of a donkey. The “Hee” is a few tones higher than the “Haw”. Now, stretch out the “Heeeeeeee,” and the “Haaaaaaaw,” and insert a two-beat pause between the words. Substitute the word “Rags” for both the “Heeeee” and the “Haaaaaw,” and you get “RAAAAAGS … … Raaaags.” I can close my eyes and hear him now as if he were just outside the door.**

Finally, I recall yet another horse and wagon vendor – “Mike the Busy Bee.” Unlike Gus or the Rag Man, Mike, the Busy Bee used his horse to pull his hot dog wagon to a strategic spot on one of the main streets “Down Neck,” (more formally known as the Ironbound Section of Newark). His wagon would be in the same spot all day, from which he sold hot dogs, drinks and other things to eat that I do not now remember.

When we would go “Down Neck” to visit family or friends, my dad and I always stopped to get a hot dog from Mike the Busy Bee. They were great. Unfortunately, that all ended when my mother was with us on one occasion and saw Mike tending to his horse and then selling hot dogs without any visible means to wash his hands in between the horse handling and the hot dog handling. That, of course, led my mother to speculate about where ol’ Mike would take a leak during the long day. So much for Mike’s hot dogs.

I guess the one other thing I remember about horse and wagon vendors is, well, horseshit. It was still easy to find in the streets back then, and my mother –- the same person who put a stop to my eating Mike the Busy Bee’s hot dogs — always told me that it was good luck to step in horseshit, so we regularly did. Go figure.

**”Down Neck” had its own Rag Man, and there is a widely told family story that involves the Rag Man and Cousin Jack. However, I will only tell it with Jack’s express permission.

This is beyond disgusting.

Today I saw the Broadway Show Avenue Q, which is playing at the Golden Theater. When it comes to writing reviews for Broadway plays, I don’t pretend to be Clive Barnes, or Frank Rich (before he became a liberal puke columnist), but here is what I thought of the show.

I loved it.

At first, I had serious reservations about seeing a show in which some of the actors operate Muppet-line puppets on stage. I wondered to myself, Do I watch the actor or the puppet? Seems to me the show should be done either by actors or puppets, but not actors doing puppetry in view of the audience.

It took about three minutes to convince me that the concept was more than workable; it was excellent.

The show deals with a recent college graduate named “Princeton,” with a fresh degree in English, who learns that the business world is not clamoring to hire him. As such, he ends up living on Avenue Q, a rundown neighborhood, with a collection of hilarious characters, some human and some puppets.

There are seven actors in the play, four of whom are also puppeteers. All the performers were excellent, however, the actors who were also puppeteers were superb. Each of the four played multiple characters/puppets. The woman who played the lead female character/puppet was amazing. She played and sang the parts of the lead female character, “Kate Monster,” in a child-like soprano voice. However, that all changed with she played and sang the part for the character, “Lucy The Slut,” in a beautiful alto voice.

As soon as I heard the ensemble sing “It Sucks to be Me,” I knew that the audience was going to be treated t some clever and funny tunes. They came one after another.

One word of caution. Although the show uses Muppet-like characters, it is definitely not for children. The story and the songs deal with some very adult things, which, for example, includes a side-splitting scene of two Muppets having a wild roll in the hay.

I’d go see it again.

Here is a photo of my friend Willie taking a Sunday Drive. As I mentioned here, Willie won his class last week, as he did in 2002 when this picture was taken. (The car has since been painted to add “bumpers”, “headlights”, “tail lights”, and a “grill”.)

Here’s how the car looks in the pit. You ought to hear that thing!

Here’s Willie in his Sunday Best.

When Willie is not busy building and racing cars, he is coaching kids’ teams in various sports. In his “spare time,” he runs events like “Vinyl Night” and, along with his brother Paulie, the annual Super Bowl party at our American Legion Post. And, through all this, Willie never, ever misses an opportunity to crack a joke.

I am very lucky. I have some seriously cool friends.

Randy, of A Secular Franciscan Life, created his own meme (I think he could probably use some jigsaw puzzles), and he listed me among those he would like to see respond thereto. Randy is a good guy, and he has provided me with answers to some of my Idaho questions. In addition, over the years, he has provided me with lots of good stuff to read, so I am happy to oblige, although I don’t know how to do the html for those nifty bullets that he used on his site.

Five Light Reads
Jeffrey Deaver’s Books The Lincoln Rhyme series.
Harlan Coben’s Books
Janet Evanovich’s Books The hilarious misadventures of Stephanie Plum, the hapless Trenton-based bounty hunter.
Clive Cussler’s Books What guy doesn’t want to be Dirk Pitt?

Five Reads that Make Me Think
The Founding Brothers by Joseph J. Ellis
The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich by William L. Shirer
The Naked Ape by Desmond Morris
Travels by Michael Crichton
1984 by George Orwell

Five Songs that Turn Me On
N.B. I always have a tough time answering this question. There are just tooooooo many. However, here are the ones that came to mind today.
Running on Empty by Jackson Brown This pretty much describes my life
China Grove by the Doobie Brothers If the underlying hook in that song doesn’t grab you by the diaphragm and not let go, there is something definitely wrong with you.
Where or When by Dion and the Belmonts
In My Life by the Beatles
Let it Be Me by the Everly Brothers

Five Best Movie Dramas
Casablanca I agree with Randy on this one
The Godfather, Parts I and II
Sophie’s Choice An emotionally draining experience, but a wonderful film
Fail Safe
Saving Private Ryan

Five Best Movie Comedies
Blazing Saddles
The Odd Couple
Monty Python and the Holy Grail
The Jerk “This is shit, and that’s Shinola.”
Vacation

Rather than tag anyone, I hereby invite anyone who stops by here to have a go at it.

This week’s Carnival is being hosted by Ken at Smadanek. Lots of good things there, and Ken did a great job pulling them all together.

Go read.