Friday, June 22, 2012

My 06.27.2012 "All Over the Map" from Arkansas Weekly


          
Here is my "All Over the Map" from next week's Arkansas Weekly:

There’s obviously no shortage of those who like to dispense their two cents when it comes to relationships. Thousands of books and articles have been written about the very real differences between a man and a woman and how a couple should navigate the perils of a long-term relationship. Yet, break-ups and divorces still happen everyday.
          
So, what’s the secret to a happy, successful and long-lasting relationship? I’m not that old, so the years may have not yet yielded all of the wisdom a long life can provide. But I consider myself unique in that I’m a fast learner, and I’m a master at recognizing psychological nuances and other behavioral patterns.
          
I also watch a lot of Lifetime and Home Shopping Network, so that helps as well – particularly when understanding the feminine psyche.
          
Obviously, some may think I might seem a tad biased in the masculine sense when reflecting on romantic relationships, but that’s simply not true. I’m also mature enough to be evenhanded and fair when evaluating differences between the two sexes.
          
Ladies and gentlemen, I think the key to a successful relationship is the ability to properly recognize and appreciate the role each person plays in that relationship.
          
Take, for instance, the role of the male. Studies indicate that the male is usually the breadwinner of the family. So, the female needs to recognize this and understand that men can sometimes be stressed from the pressures of work. Giving the male the freedom to “relax” or “unwind” after work indicates that the female appreciates the hard effort their mate is making in ensuring that she has a roof over her head and food to cook and, ultimately, to eat. A female consistently making complaints to the male about staying at the local watering hole until late at night only causes unneeded high blood pressure on her end and potentially venomous resentment on her partner’s end. A female that allows room for the male to properly transition from the stress of the workday to his home life is a female that appreciates the role of the male in the relationship. At some point, the male will recognize this and reward the female with a dinner at Applebee’s or some additional cash for a new purse or pantyhose.
          
Conversely, the male should recognize and appreciate the role of the female in the relationship. In fact, it is essential that the male properly delegate the role of the female in the relationship at the outset. This will ensure the female freely adapts to her role as the homemaker, and thus has the ability to make the relationship a success. A proper wife or girlfriend will be encouraged to keep the home clean and fresh, cook delicious meals, and drop whatever she may be doing at a particular moment to go get some Schlitz and Kools whenever the husband or boyfriend demands it. Setting such expectations at the beginning of the relationship can only boost the chances of the female successfully maintaining her role.
          
It can be common to find flawed relationships, and a study commissioned by the Bob Guccione Center for Relationship Therapy reinforces the need to school the female into properly recognizing her role in the partnership at an early stage. If not, a pattern of misbehavior and defiance on the female’s end will likely develop and torpedo the relationship. To combat this, it is recommended for the male to aggressively condition the female in a manner similar to housebreaking a dog. 

Bob Guccione, or Rob Grace in 35 years, poses with friends.

For instance, if the female declines to make the male a pimento cheese sandwich, the male should command in a stern voice, “MAKE ME THE DAMN PIMENTO CHEESE SANDWICH NOW, WOMAN!” He should then slam his hand on the nearest table or wall for dramatic effect. In most cases, responding to such rebellion from the female in this fashion immediately solves the problem. In the rare instances where such intolerable behavior continues, the forced implementation of an electronic shock collar around the female’s neck is recommended. When the female refuses to make the pimento cheese sandwich after the above rebuke, the male can simply push the collar’s remote control and continually shock the female until she’s jumping for the refrigerator door faster than a jackrabbit on hot Georgia asphalt in the middle of summer.
          
So, ladies and gentlemen, I offer this advice free of charge. I sincerely hope that such guidelines will help you with your relationship. I think you’ll find your partnership will be fulfilling and joyous, and “happily ever after” will be a term that will apply to your particular romantic union.
          
But ladies, remember -- make the damn pimento cheese sandwich when the man calls for it.
          
Otherwise: ZAP!
          
(It should be noted that Rob is currently under house arrest as well as under various investigations for stalking at least 13 women across three states. Implementing his “advice” is not encouraged. It should also be noted that he is single. Interested females should stay far, far away. -- Arkansas Weekly editors.)

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

My 06.20.2012 "All Over the Map" from Arkansas Weekly (UPDATE)

Here's my "All Over the Map" from this week's Arkansas Weekly:   


I recently spent an evening watching some of the delightful movies from the `70s and `80s that starred the adorable little mutt, Benji. My good friend, Sasquatch, came up with the idea of watching the movies. It seems he was driving down the road one recent afternoon and came across a dog that looked like the Hollywood canine.
          
“Hey,” he said to me in a phone call, “I’m drivin’ to Newport, and I swear I just saw Benji walking down the highway.”
          
“The dog from the movies?” I asked.
          
“Right on, that cute little sucker. Man, I loved those movies when I was a kid.”
          
“They were fantastic films, weren’t they?”
       
“Hey,” Sasquatch said, “how about I rent some of those DVDs tonight, and we grill some steaks, drink some beer and watch some damn Benji movies at your place!”
         
“Right on, brother!” I said. I held my fist to the phone. “Hey, I’m fist bumping you right now for comin’ up with this idea! Gimme some love back.”
          
“Got my fist to the phone as I speak, bro! We’re bumping cellular!”
          
The Benjifest at my place began with the landmark original film, Benji. Then we became enthralled with the thrilling international spy escapade, For the Love of Benji. We wrapped up the fun by grilling some steaks on my patio as “I Feel Love,” the theme to Benji as performed by the legendary Charlie Rich, played on my outside stereo.



       
“Man, when Benji knocked that gun out of that spy dude’s hand, that was bad ass,” Sasquatch said. He took a gulp of some Bud Light. “Benji is the man. Benji is the man.” He held up his fist.
          
“He’s legit,” I said, bumping Sasquatch’s knuckles with mine. “Say, I wonder why Benji doesn’t make more movies. You don’t hear much from him anymore.”
          
Sasquatch took a drag on his Marlboro Light 100 and considered my comments.
          
“That’s a good question,” he finally said. “Damn good question. Where is he? You know he could make a million dollars right now. People love Benji! I’d see a new Benji movie!”
          
“Me too!”
         
“Well, what’s the problem? Somebody needs to make a new Benji movie! Get Steven Spielberg, Martin Scorsese, some dude like that to direct, and get Julia Roberts, Brad Pitt, or somebody to star with him, and BAM! Box office hit! Benji back on top!”
          
“That could be the name of the movie!” I said. “Benji – Back on Top!
          
“Hell yeah,” Sasquatch said. He held up his fist.
          
I held up mine.
          
“Gimme a bump for Benji,” he said.
          
“Hey,” I said. “I have an idea. Let’s google Benji. See what he’s up to.”
          
“Bring it,” Sasquatch said.
          
I grabbed my laptop and searched for the latest news on the lovable pooch. The first article, from TMZ, popped up on my screen.
       
“Ooohh,” I said. “This ain’t good, bro.”
          
“Tell me,” he said. “I got on my big boy underwear.”
          
“Seems after the release of Benji’s last film, Benji Goes to Hell – ”
          
“I remember that,” Sasquatch said. “They should’ve stayed away from the horror genre. Benji ain’t no horror movie star.”
          
“…Benji suffered setbacks both professionally and personally,” I continued. “This story says after he broke off his relationship with Lassie, he split from Joe Camp, the director that discovered him, and Benji then became friends with Charlie Sheen and a number of adult film stars. He started making movies that lacked the quality of his earlier output with Camp, and he soon developed an addiction to sniffing jock itch medicinal powder which caused his cuddly appearance to take a drastic turn.”
          
I then came across this picture of Benji that was recently taken near Skid Row in downtown Los Angeles by a TMZ photographer. The ravages of addition were more than apparent.

Former Hollywood superstar, Benji, was recently captured in this photo by a TMZ photographer near L.A.'s infamous Skid Row.

Sasquatch looked at the image and slowly put down his beer. He covered his eyes with his hand and started to sob.
          
“Damn Hollywood!” he said. “Look at how it corrupted poor Benji! He looks so bad…like a damn crackhead!”
          
I put my hand on Sasquatch’s back.

“It’s okay to cry, bro,” I said. “Let it all out. Then, when you go to bed tonight, you say a little prayer for Benji. It’s gonna be okay. Benji’s gonna make it. He always pulls through. Remember how he recovered from that infected paw in Benji and Ernest Go to Sturgis? Well, by golly, Benji is going to overcome this addiction, he’s gonna get help, and soon, he’s going to be another Hollywood comeback story. Benji…is gonna be…back on top!”
          
Sasquatch took his hand from his eyes and moved it to my shoulder. He looked at me and slowly smiled.
          
“Back on top,” he said. “Benji gonna be back on top!” He brought his other hand up and made a fist.
          
“Bring it in for a little love for Benji,” he said. “Benji – back on top!”
          
“Back on top,” I said, as I brought it in for Benji.


UPDATE (06.21.2012):

Am I psychic? Click here.

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

My 06.13.2012 "All Over the Map" from Arkansas Weekly

Here ya' go. From last week's Arkansas Weekly:


Friday, June 8, 2012.

09:35 hours.

This just happened. Sort of:
         
THE INTERNET IS DOWN AT THE OFFICE!
         
I was with my son at his haircut appointment when the above text came to my iPhone. My first reaction was a cold shot of adrenaline down my spine, then sheer panic.
          
THE INTERNET IS DOWN AT THE OFFICE!
          
I threw a twenty to the hairdresser and another twenty to my son.
          
“Nine one one, Hutton!” I yelled. “THE INTERNET IS DOWN AT THE OFFICE! Call a cab! I still think you’d look cool with a Bieber cut, but whatever! I love you!”
          
THE INTERNET IS DOWN AT THE OFFICE!
         
I sped through three red lights and crashed my truck through the wooden fence and down into the office parking lot. I ran inside and found chaos.
          
Leslie, our usually uninvolved receptionist, grabbed me first and screamed:
          
“THE INTERNET IS DOWN AT THE OFFICE! THE INTERNET IS DOWN AT THE OFFICE!”
          
I took hold of her arms and slapped her hard across the face.
         
“CALM DOWN, WOMAN!” I screamed.
         
“BUT I CAN’T LOOK AT FACEBOOK! I CAN’T LOOK AT FACEBOOK!”
          
I twirled her around to her desk, a desk that was covered in stacks of files.
          
“THOSE DOCUMENTS HAVE BEEN SITTING THERE SINCE 2004 WAITING FOR YOU TO FILE THEM! TAKE YOUR MIND OFF THE INTERNET BEING DOWN AND FILE THEM!”
          
I pushed her back toward her desk and moved down the hall.
          
“AND FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE, WILL YOU FAX THAT MEMO I GAVE YOU LAST DECEMBER?!? I CAN SEE IT THERE, UNDERNEATH YOUR CHINESE TAKE OUT BOX FROM YESTERDAY!”
          
I moved down the hall. I could hear screams from other offices.
          
“THE INTERNET IS DOWN AT THE OFFICE!” screamed one marketing specialist from her office. “I CAN’T GET ON TOPIX DOT COM!”
          
“CAN WE NOT E-MAIL SOMEONE FOR HELP?!?” asked another marketing specialist from his office. “CAN WE NOT POST FOR HELP ON FACEBOOK?!?”
          
“NO! OF COURSE NOT!” I yelled as I made my way toward the computer room.
          
“BUT WHY?” yet another asked me from her office.
          
“BECAUSE,” I answered, “THE INTERNET IS DOWN AT THE OFFICE!”
          
The screams from all the offices seemed to double in agonized-sounding pain. One computer monitor was thrown out of one office. I thought I heard a gunshot and a loud thump from the program manager’s office.
          
Suddenly, as I passed by Uncle Jack’s office, the pungent scent of gasoline stung my nostrils. I looked, and I saw the veteran marketing consultant sitting on his floor and saturating himself with premium unleaded gasoline from a metal can. He tossed the empty can aside and grabbed a book of matches.
          
“UNCLE JACK,” I screamed. “NO! DON’T DO IT! WE JUST HAD THE CARPETS STEAMED LAST WEEK!”
          
“Rob,” he said in a shaky, yet resigned voice, “I came into my office this morning, and when I tried to get online to go through all of my anti-Obama emails and forward them to every man, woman and child on my email list, I realized the internet was down. I can’t download all the anti-Obama emails from my friends. How am I going to live without sending out all of these fake rumors about our socialist illegal immigrant President to every man, woman and child on my email list? First the Obama Presidency, now this.”
          
“HOLD IT TOGETHER, MAN!” I screamed, and in a lightning-fast move I perfected in my Tae-Bo class, I delivered a roundhouse kick to Uncle Jack’s hand and knocked the matches across his office. “NOW GO SELL SOME ADS AND SHOW YOUR CLIENTS THE BENEFITS OF ADVERTISING IN THE PAPER THAT HAS THE LARGEST CIRCULATION OF ANY PAPER IN THE AREA – ARKANSAS WEEKLY! AND ALSO SHOW THEM HOW MUCH TRAFFIC THEY WILL GET IN THEIR BUSINESS IF THEY SUPPLEMENT THAT ADVERTISING WITH RADIO COMMERCIALS ON W.R.D. ENTERTAINMENT’S FAMILY OF SIX RADIO STATIONS. REMIND THEM THAT IF THEY HAVE ANY QUESTIONS, THEY CAN CALL (870) 793-4196 AND ASK FOR SALES! W.R.D. ENTERTAINMENT – EXPOSURE YOUR BUSINESS DESERVES!”
          
I finally made it to the computer room. The office manager was on the phone with the I.T. guy.
          
“I’M ON THE PHONE WITH THE I.T. GUY!” she screamed.
         
“Calm down,” I said as I tried to do the same. “I just wrote that you were on the phone with the I.T. guy. Now, shoot it to me straight: what does our tech guy say?”
          
“He says…,” she said with a trembling voice. “He says…”
          
“Yes, tell me. I can take it.”
          
“He says, ‘THE INTERNET IS DOWN AT THE OFFICE!”
          
Just then, my fellow columnist, Duffie “The Roving Fisherman” Bryant, walked in the room. He was holding a sheet of paper.
          
“What’s all the fuss and yelling around here?” he asked. He looked remarkably sharp for a 93-year-old. “Your lady up front that’s always on the computer is runnin’ up and down the halls screaming like she’s on fire or something. I just came to drop off my column.”
         
“Mr. Bryant,” I said. “THE INTERNET IS DOWN AT THE OFFICE!”
          
“Oh, I don’t have much use for computers and such. Typewriters work fine for me. Speaking of which, here’s my column.”
        
He handed me the sheet of paper. Then, he looked at me for a moment, seeming to consider our dilemma. He pointed to a box on a computer rack.
         
“Did you unplug your modem and re-set it?” he asked.
          
I looked to the office manager and then the box and then back to the office manager. She unplugged the modem and then plugged it back.
          
“IT’S ON! THE INTERNET IS BACK ON AT THE OFFICE!” screamed Leslie from the front desk. Cheers erupted from all over the building. Everyone ran out of their offices, and with a still-dripping wet Uncle Jack leading the way, put Duffie on their shoulders and paraded down the hall and out into the parking lot.

Outside, we all celebrated the return of the internet to the offices of W.R.D. Entertainment – except for Leslie, who could not be pulled away from Facebook.

Tears of joy were shed. Hugs were shared. And the party was going fantastic…

...until the sales manager lit a cigarette, and Uncle Jack burst into flames.


Last known photograph of "Uncle Jack"