The great omission of Tom Wopat

On September 9th, 2014, small screen legend Thomas Steven "Tom" Wopat celebrated his 63rd birthday.  Yet in his hometown of Lodi, Wisconsin, there was no celebration.  Not so much as a mention of what surely should be its favorite son.  For in Lodi, there is no roadside marker, no memorial bridge, no sign whatsoever designating it as Wopat's hometown.  In fact, a cursory check of the city's website instead proudly proclaims Lodi as the "Home of Susie the Duck."

Barely esteemed, yet erratic, blogger Bone set out to investigate this, one of the great injustices of our time.  He (almost) contacted Lodi, Wisconsin, Mayor (name redacted).  Their conversation (had it occurred) could have been as follows (but most likely would have gone nothing like this at all).

Judge for yourself.

Mayor: "Mayor (redacted).  May I help you?"

Bone: "So you say."

M: "Excuse me?"

B: "I'm going to ask you a couple of questions to prove that you are indeed the Mayor of Lodi."

M: "....OK?"

B: "Where do the Packers play?"

M: "Lambeau Field."

B: "Wrong.  We were looking for the frozen tundra.  We also would have accepted Green Bay.  Or, Earth. Question two, foreign policy: What is the capital of Uzbekistan?"

M: "Tashkent."

B: "Wow.  I have no idea, but that sounded like you really knew."

B: "Is it or is it not true that Adele works in your office?"  (According to the Lodi website, the City Clerk is Adele "Van Ness.")

M: "...Yes.  But how do you know Ms. Van Ness?"

B: "Van Ness?  I thought her last name was Blue.  Or Violet.  Or something."

M: "Van Ness is her married name."

B: "Adele is married?!?!"

M: "I'm not sure we're talking about the same person."

B:  "Does she sing?"

M: "I hear her singing sometimes when she's in the restroom."

B: "Are you admitting you have surveillance equipment in your employee restrooms?  I believe this violates Code 7.12.cc of the Wisconsin Statute of Limitations.  I can also cite the legal precedent set in the case of Tommy Lasorda v. the state of California."

M: "My secretary said you were with the IRS."

B: "Wow.  Really?  She bought that?"

M: "Excuse me?"

B: "Oh, uh, Mister (redacted), if that really IS your name, is it true that you hate Tom Wopat?"

M: "Why would you say that?"

B: "How else do you explain the fact that there is no historical marker, roadside sign, or other apparatus designating Lodi as the birthplace of Mister Wopat?"

M: "I guess it's just never come up."

B: "Oh, it's never come up, you say?  Yet what HAS come up is a huge-ass sign designating your fair city as the home of Susie.  The duck."

M: "People love Susie."

B: "That's not even a duck name.  Donald.  Daffy.  Howard.  Huey, Dewey, Louie.  These are duck names."

M: "Those are all fictional characters."

B: "Your momma's a fictional character!!!"

M: "Are we about done?"

B: "What about Daisy?"

M: "Daisy?"

B: "Yeah.  Daisy Duck.  Has a nice ring to it."

M: "I don't think so."

B: "Do you even know who Tom Wopat is?"

M: "Of course."

B: "Well allow me to refresh your memory.  According to IMDB, Tom Wopat is, and I quote, a virile, blue-eyed, dark-haired, plaid-shirted rascal on the rough-and-tumble bucolic 80s series 'The Dukes of Hazzard.'  Unquote!  Kinda reminds me of myself, actually."

(silence)

B: "What is it, Mayor (redacted)?  Is it a North-South thing?  Is there still a Civil War raging in your mind?"

M: "That's ludicrous!"

B: "And is it true that you are such a huge John Schneider fan that you have every episode of 'Smallville' recorded on VHS and always preferred Bo to Luke Duke?  Is it? Is it?!?!"

M: ".......Maybe."

B: "Ah-HAAAA!"

M: "Well, Bo did always drive.  And that hood slide was awesome."

B: "Luke could have driven that General Lee just as well as Bo!  OK, maybe not just as well, but he could've gotten them to the Boar's Nest.  Or Cooter's garage.  Or Capitol City.  Wherever they needed to go.  Eventually."

M: "I suppose."

B: "You suppose?  YOU suppose?  Well, look everybody, Mister Big Shot Mayor supposes!  Do you SUPPOSE any of this would be happening if Denver Pyle were still alive???  Do you?  Do you???"

M: "I don't see how that would have affected anything."

B: "....Yeah, OK, probably not.  You do realize 'The Dukes of Hazzard' is not the only thing Tom Wopat has done, right?  He does those AutoTrader commercials.  He was the voice of Wilkins Brother #2 on 'Phineas & Ferb.'  And, AND, he was in the made-for-TV thriller 'Taking Chance' with Kevin Bacon.  That's ONE degree of Kevin Bacon if you're having trouble counting there, Mister Mayor.  So stick that feather in your cheesehead hat and call it macaroni!"

M: "Listen closely.  I'm going to report you to the authorities and...."

B: "What are your thoughts on Coy & Vance?"

M: "If you ever call this office again..."

B: "Thanks for your time!"

M: "You will be incarcerated."

B: "Tell Adele I love her!!!"


"Things got bad and things got worse.  I guess you know the tune.  Oh Lord, stuck in Lodi again..."

And they shall call his name...

I figure one of the most important decisions I will ever make is what to name my kids.

Right now, my life is all Frosted Flakes or Apple Jacks, NCIS reruns or Golf Channel, and take out the trash or see just how much more I can stack on top of the can without it falling.  (FYI, my record is 2 ft. 4 inches above the rim, wall-aided.)

But someday that will, in theory, change.  My decisions will begin to mean more, have more lasting consequences.  And I gotta tell ya, that freaks me out a little.

I'm pretty sure they hand out manuals at the hospital that give you tips on how to raise your kids.  But no one tells you how to name your kids.  

Oh sure, there's the Big Book of 60,000 Baby Names, but that's got like a thousand names.  Who among us can choose just one?  I have enough trouble trying to decide what kind of cereal to have.

So today I am relieved to be able to say I have made this important decision.  I have picked out names for my kids.  And I will reveal those to you now, with the understanding that you agree to sign a non-compete agreement at the end of this post stating that you will not steal my names.

If it is a boy, they shall call his name.... Luke.

Pros: It's Biblical.  It's one of the Dukes of Hazzard.  Also, easy to spell if he's not very studious.  And for every day of his life, I can (and will) say in a Darth Vader voice, "Luke.... I am your father."

Cons: There are no cons.

OK, I have to admit I stole that idea from Facebook.  But my girl name I came up with all by myself, as I'm sure you will have no trouble believing.

If it is a girl, they shall call her name.... Adrian.

Pros: About once a week when I'm letting her out at school, I'll purposely hide her lunch or a book or something, so that she "forgets" it.  Then just as she's almost to the door, in the midst of all her peers, I'll roll down the window and yell in my best Sylvester Stallone voice, "Yo, Adriaaaaaaaan!!!!!  You forgot your protractor."

Talk about years and years of fun.

Cons: Again, there are no cons.  For me, anyway.

I'm so thankful to have this major life decision behind me.  Now all I have to do is get their mother to go along with this.

But today, that seed has been planted.

Actually, that's probably a poor choice of words.

"Some gal would giggle and I'd get red / And some guy'd laugh and I'd bust his head / I tell you, life ain't easy for a boy named Sue..."

This is really hard

I never thought I'd love that way again.

The year was 1993.  I wasn't long out of high school.  There were tears in my eyes when the burly bartender I'd been seeing for several years came to the door and said, "Cheers is closed." 

A part of me died that day.  A part of me that was young and innocent, idealistic and hopeful.  But somehow I managed to pick up the pieces and move on from my first real love.  I found a new guy.  Single, thin, neat, early thirties.  Well actually it was more of a group thing.  Him and his friends, and me.  A little different, but I wasn't complaining.

In fact, things were great for a few years.  Until he and his friends got into some legal trouble up in Massachusetts.  After they were all thrown in prison, I was back on my own.  Like a Whitesnake song.  But this time I was certain, that I'd never love again.

And then I met him.

When I first encountered him, he was a 40-year-old virgin.  I found him only tolerably amusing, and a bit over-the-top.  By the time we began our weekly Thursday night trysts, he was way over-the-top.  Never did I ever think I would soon come to love this man.

I'm speaking of course of Steve Carell, aka Michael Scott. 

The new season of The Office begins tonight.  And it will do so without its fearless leader, now former leader.  They say the show must go on.  But I, for one, don't see how it can.  Michael Scott was to The Office what Gene Frenkle was to Blue Oyster Cult, what Trapper John was to Trapper John M.D., and Bob Barker was to The Price Is Right.  That show hasn't been funny at all since Barker left.

If you watched The Office you already know what I'm talking about.  If you didn't watch The Office, if you've never seen Michael Scott in all his glory, I have to wonder, have you ever really loved at all? Did I say loved?  I meant laughed.

While I cannot enumerate all the ways Michael Scott was great -- for that would take far too much time and typing -- I would be remiss if I failed to mention his signature joke and crowning achievement: "That's what she said."

Michael Scott single-handedly brought "That's What She Said" and it's internet shorthand counterpart, TWSS, into the daily vernacular.  You'd be hard-pressed today to find a message board frequented by juvenile men (and women) that doesn't have a TWSS reference.  It's a timeless, if slightly immature, joke.  Brilliant both in its simplicity and versatility.  I try to fit it in wherever I can..........

So before we move on -- and some of us never will -- let us look back and remember, Michael Gary Scott.  A man I will miss.  A man who has ruined all other men for me.

Here are a few selected Michael Scott quotes for your enjoyment:

- "It’s how I like to do business, everybody joking around.  It’s like Friends.  I am Chandler, and Joey.  Pam is Rachel. And Dwight is Kramer."

- "I like Donna. Is it wrong to keep seeing her?  Depends on who you ask.  I mean, if you ask her husband, or you took a random poll, yeah, it's wrong."

- "You know what eats a large amount of the day are naps.  You go to sleep it's light out, you wake up it's dark.  That's the whole day.  Where did that day go?  I have no idea."

- "I am actually great with old women.  In fact, for the longest time my best friend was my grandmother.  And then she met Harriet.  And now she thinks she better than everybody."

- "A boss’s salary isn’t just about money.  It’s about perks.  For example, every year I get a $100 gas card.  Can’t put a price on that."

- "My philosophy is basically this.  And this is something that I live by, and I always have.  And I always will.  Don't ever, for any reason, do anything, to anyone, for any reason, ever, no matter what, no matter where, or who or who you are with, or or where you are going, or where you've been.  Ever.  For any reason.  Whatsoever."

- "Jim is like Big Bird.  He is tall and yellow and very nice.  But would I put him in charge?  No.  I don't think so.  Big Bird doesn't make the tough decisions.  If I was gonna put someone in charge, I would put Bert in charge.  Or I would put one of the real grown-ups in charge, like Maria or Gordon, maybe."

- "How do you tell somebody that you care about deeply, 'I told you so.'  Gently with a rose?  In a funny way, like it's a hilarious joke?  Or do you just let it go, because saying it would just make things worse? ... Probably the funny way."

- "I don't need to be friends with Pam.  I have plenty of female friends.  My mom.  Pam's mom.  My aunt... although she just blocked me on IM.  What's her face, from Quiznos?  I see her like four times a week."

- "A boss is like a teacher.  And I am like the cool teacher, like Mister Handell.  Mister Handell would hang out with us and he would tell us awesome jokes and he... actually hooked up with one of the students.  And then like twelve other kids came forward.  It was in all the papers.  Really ruined eighth grade for us."

Best of luck, Michael, in your new life with Holly in Colorado.  Oh who am I kidding?  This is going to suck!  It's going to be like when Bo and Luke left Dukes Of Hazzard and were replaced by Coy and Vance, times a hundred!

I'll miss your mispronunciations and your song parodies, your women's pants and your man-crush on Ryan (and possibly Jim), your Dundie Awards and Scott's Tots, Prison Mike and Date Mike, Lazy Scranton and the Golden Ticket idea, your fake suicide attempt and real George Foreman grill foot injury, the Michael Scott Paper Company and Threat Level Midnight, and perhaps most of all, your uncanny ability to always say the wrong thing and make even the most seemingly benign situation painfully uncomfortable.

I'll miss you, Michael.  In the immortal words of one James Halpert, "You always left me satisfied and smiling."

(sniff) That's what she said.

"I wish you the best.  And I wish you nothing less than everything you've ever dreamed of.  And I hope that you find love along the way.  But most of all, I wish you'd stay..."

Closing the book on deforestation

I have come to a decision.

And you should know decisions often do not come easy for me. In fact, I may take anywhere from six months up to five years or more deciding on such life-altering matters as whether to buy a new phone, whether to get a DVR, or whether to attend a concert. In the case of the latter, sometimes the concert will pass before I decide, and I wind up not even having to make a decision at all. So, win-win.

But the decision I want reveal today is one I have been ruminating over for probably about six years now. And that is, whether or not to shave one's chest. More specifically, mine.

Let me begin by stating that while I do have hair on my chest and stomach area, I really have no idea if it is excessive. I mean, no one's ever gotten their fingers stuck. At least, not for more than a couple seconds. It's not Austin Powers-esque or anything. And thankfully, I don't have any hair on my back.

When I grew up, having hair on one's chest was normal, or so I thought. Tom Selleck, Alan Thicke, the Duke boys, my Dad -- these were my chest role models, the people I looked up to. But anymore? I'm not so sure.

More and more, it seems I and my Church Of The Unshorn Bosom brothers are an ever-shrinking minority. Is shaving the norm now? When did this all start? And where does it end? What's next, shaving our legs? Wearing skinny jeans?

I'm sorry, but I have to take a stand. I'm sick of noticing guys on the beach or at the pool and wondering if they shave or are naturally hairless. Don't you see how wrong that is? I'm noticing guys at the pool! I'm tired of Google-imaging "Alan Thicke shirtless." Even with SafeSearch on moderate, it's still just... too much.

It has to stop.

Maybe I'm lazy. Or maybe I've just gotten old. But shaving seems like way too much maintenance to me at this point. And I imagine much itchiness. Perhaps this is just where I finally hop off the fashion train. I think I've done a remarkably fair job of trying to keep up. Over the years, I've put away the tightie-whities for boxers, traded in the tapered-leg jeans, and even welcomed plaid shorts with open arms and willing legs.

But it's time to admit that I'm not from Jersey Beach or Laguna Hills. I'm not The Situation, or Spooki. I'm Bone. And I'm bringing manly back.

I hereby declare that I will not be shaving my chest. I might even start unbuttoning the second button on my shirt, proudly let the man-meadow sway in the breeze a bit.

Of course, should Tom Selleck do a new movie with a topless scene in which he is clearly rocking the bare-breasted look, at that point I may be forced to revisit my decision.

"I'm so obsessed. My heart is bound to beat right out my untrimmed chest..."

Babies R Us

Guess what.



If you guessed that I shaved my facial hair, you are correct. I actually did it a few months ago. It was a pretty big decision, but I figured it was time.

Did you notice anything else different in the picture? Look closely and see if you notice... A WHOLE OTHER PERSON!!!

That's right, my friends. After all these years, I've finally done it. I'm an uncle! Say hello to Nephew Bone. (He's the one on the left.) This picture was taken just as I was telling him all about blogging.

My sister was admitted to the hospital early Tuesday morning to be induced. Nephew Bone finally arrived Wednesday evening at 8 pounds, 3 ounces. I figure thirty-six hours isn't that long to wait for a whole 'nother person, right sis? And no, they didn't name him Seven or Jacob Martin, despite my constant urging friendly suggestion.

From what I can tell, here is a breakdown of how Nephew Bone spends his day:

Sleeping - 70%
Eating - 15%
Causing people to swoon by opening his eyes - 10%
Whining at bothersome, albeit sometimes attractive, nurses - 5%

Total time spent looking cute = 100%

I want to be the best uncle ever. And by best uncle, I mean, fave uncle. However, I've been unable to find any books on uncle-ing, so I've had to come up with other means of research. I have devised what I think you will find is a simple, yet comprehensive two-pronged approach.

First, I have been trying to recall things my uncles taught me. Things like if you hit a golf ball just so, it will run along the cart path and greatly increase shot distance. Although I guess I would have eventually figured that out myself.

Secondly, I have been trying to catch reruns of Full House, Dukes Of Hazzard, and My Three Sons whenever I can. I figure the knowledge I can glean from Uncle Joey, the Uncles Jesse, Uncle Charley and other famous uncles will be invaluable. And what about that old guy on Lost In Space? Was he an uncle, or just some odd character they picked up somewhere in the galaxy?

It is an incredible thing hold a baby while thinking he wasn't even born a few hours before. To experience the miracle of life is... indescribable. I can only imagine how it will be someday when I finally impregnate some unsuspecting girl.

What? I didn't want you to think this was going to turn into one of those boring uncle blogs. I promise a return to golf, General Hospital, and other uninhibited bachelor tales very soon.

I also want to say congratulations to Kywana on the birth of their son this past Monday. He is beautiful! And thanks for letting me be part of that. Well, a small part. It's not like I was there for the delivery or anything. I am also honored they have chosen me to be Kywana Jr's godfather. Starting immediately, you may refer to me as Godfather B.

It's been a busy week around here. Lots of time spent in hospitals. I am most thankful that everything went smoothly (easy for me to say) and that everyone is healthy.

There are two less pregnant women in the world. Two new beautiful Bama fans. And one proud new uncle and godfather.

"His fingerprints are everywhere. I just slowed down to stop and stare. Opened my eyes and man I swear, I saw God today..."

Things that make you go hmmm, in Hazzard

For some reason, I've been quite inquisitive lately. Saturday I was questioning my roots and my very existence. Today it's on to a more serious topic, The Dukes Of Hazzard.

One has to marvel that the show stayed on the air for seven seasons. I mean, how many different episodes can you write where the good ol' boys save the day and foil the bad guys? I guess there were bound to be a few plot stretches. To wit, the defecting Soviet gymnast and the haunted General Lee. In that sense, it was sort of the Gilligan's Island of the 1980's, and poses at least as many questions.

It has long gnawed at me how Bo & Luke always seemed to have an ample supply of dynamite at their behest, you know, whenever the need arose. Thinking of that, I can't help but wonder how the Dukes would fare in this day and time. They should do a reunion show, Bo & Luke versus Homeland Security.

For some reason, I have been watching the show a bit more the past few days. And other questions have forced their way to the surface, like a bulb of pus culminating in a non-aesthetic whitehead.

Let's begin with the basic familial setup. You had Uncle Jesse and five cousins--Bo, Luke, Daisy, and oh yes, don't forget Coy and Vance. None of the five were siblings, and Jesse was father to none of them, yet they all had the last name Duke. That means that Jesse had to have at least five brothers himself, all of whom had at least one child who wound up living with the same uncle for a time when they were grown, right?.

Or maybe Uncle Jesse was not really an uncle at all. Maybe he was more like a modern-day Uncle Remus, a jolly old man who took in strays and walked around with bluebirds perched on his Libertys.

And what about the General Lee? It was supposed to be souped up, right? Well how come anytime there was a chase which also involved Daisy's Jeep, Uncle Jesse's truck, and/or random bad guy's sedan, the other vehicles were always able to keep up with the General?

Here's another peculiarity. Everytime anyone was ever driving around looking for someone, even if they had no clue where that someone was, they'd eventually meet them on the road. How many roads were there in Hazzard County, like two?

Also, what was the point of having Bo and Luke wear the same outfit 99% of the time? I mean, it was fine for the Flintstones, but come on, no one wore the same shirt day after day after day in the eighties. Plus, Daisy always had on different tops and such. Was she controlling the budget in the household and not alloting Bo and Luke enough money for clothes? And if so, why wasn't there an episode about that?

Why wasn't Daisy ever married, or even dating anyone?

And is it just me, or were there a curiously high number of bridges out in Hazzard County?

I believe these are all pertinent questions which require much research and in-depth analysis to answer. Then and only then will we begin to understand the sociological intricacies that defined Hazzard County.

It's funny, you don't really ponder such questions when you're playing with your matchbox General Lee and cop car in a gravel driveway. When you're ten years old, all you really think about is trying to persuade your Mom to put a Dixie horn on her Cutlass.

"My girl bust in, caught us creating a boom. She said, girlfriend? Things that make you go hmm..."