Hard To Handle

Hello World, Happy March! It's hard to believe that 2 months of the year are already in the history books so far, and in another couple of weeks, it will officially be spring. Of course, the weather is often at odds with what the calendar is telling us is plainly true, at least in the local area, so we can be sure that spring will arrive at its appointed time, regardless of whether the outdoor conditions seem representative of the occasion, or wildly contradictory to it. For those of us who are already older than dirt, such as the dinosaurs and myself (and oddly enough, it certainly didn't seem any cleaner in the world before dirt, with the unformed land masses in the primordial ooze, so that really has to make you wonder if dirt is actually the culprit) at some point, you realize that you've lived long enough to see it all - and we can all remember weather in March that ranges from blizzards and Nor'easters, to heat waves and hail, plus everything in between. Of course, it does no good to complain, heaven knows, and one can only pity the poor Easter Bunny, who probably needs a veritable trove of trunks to convey all of the different outfits he might require, in order to be prepared for whatever range of conditions that he may be confronted with on his travels, I shouldn't wonder. On the other hand, if he had a trunk, he'd be the Easter Elephant and not the Easter Bunny, and we'd all have baskets filled with peanuts instead of marshmallow Peeps, and then where would we be, I ask you that. And while we're on the subject of Easter, everyone knows that it will be very early this year, on March 31st, which explains why we're already seeing commercials for pastel M&Ms and those yummy Cadbury Creme Eggs. Mind you, Passover doesn't even start until after Palm Sunday, and will still be going on for 2 days after Easter is over and done with, which I don't mind saying is one of the drawbacks, when much of the world switched over to the new calendar, and those darned movable feasts don't line up as they should. This is one of the reasons that the Greek Orthodox church sticks with the old calendar for religious holidays, because otherwise, you run the risk of finding yourself in a situation just like this one, where Easter comes before Passover - a chronological anomaly that certainly would have surprised and perplexed the local citizenry of Jerusalem about 2,000 years ago, and the befuddled Romans wouldn't have known if they were coming or going. I'm afraid even the Easter Elephant wouldn't have been able to help them out with that one, even if there was such a thing, and the Druids would have had the last laugh after all. Meanwhile, in the wonderful world of sports, avid fans could behold the delightful prospect of the first Spring Training games on television last week, and seeing young men playing ball out in the sunshine is always a tonic for what ails you, especially when winter weather is getting you down. There are no surprises in the Yankees camp, where their wily veterans and eager youngsters look forward to another year of dominating the AL East, with their raw power, pitching prowess, and storied tradition of success that speaks for itself, ever so softly, all the while carrying a very big stick. Then there's the junior franchise for the hometown faithful, the New York Wrights - it's true that they used to be called the Mets, but now that David Wright is the only player anybody knows on this team anymore, I figure it makes more sense to name it after him, and cut through all the confusion. When the pundits say you can't tell the players without a scorecard, they're really not kidding this time, by golly. Anyone of any note, who used to make up the heart and soul of the team, has long since retired, been traded, gotten injured, signed with another club, or simply vanished into thin air, never to be heard of again. Every day, the Sports section prints stories from Florida, complete with pictures and featuring the exploits of the players showing off their skills - and there isn't one single solitary soul that you could ever begin to recognize, if you tripped over them on the street. How they ever hope to win anything with this ragtag grab-bag of nobodies is a mystery to me, I'm sure, and even the Herculean efforts of David Wright would be unable to counteract the combined ineptitude of the team-mates he's been saddled with. Come to think of it, I suppose it would make more sense to call them the New York Wrongs, rather than the Wrights, and I'm afraid if the Easter Elephant does show up, all he'll be bringing them is circus peanuts, and plenty of them. And speaking of things that are hard to understand, it probably came as a big surprise to alert readers on the AOL Welcome screen, when they spotted this arresting tidbit: ======================= Marilyn Followed a Bizarre Diet Monroe achieved her enviable figure by following a strange regime ======================= I think not! Unlike the AOL editors, the rest of us understand that a regime is "the period during which a particular ruling system is in power," and we might suppose that the blond bombshell could have been following a totalitarian regime of the day, or one of the venerable regimes of the ancient world, although I tend to doubt it. Of course, the dinosaurs and I understand that there are no standards anymore, heaven knows, and nowadays, people idly toss around the term "regime" willy-nilly, when what they really mean is regimen, or "a regulated course, as of diet or exercise" instead. It's a sad state of affairs when words have lost all their meaning, so as to become completely interchangeable, and if things keep going the way they are, eventually there will be only one word that will mean everything. Honestly, sometimes you just don't know whether to laugh or cry. Where is that Easter Elephant with the circus peanuts when you need him? In other local news, this week we picked ourselves up and went out to see the latest release in the Die Hard series of films, whose actual title is "A Good Day to Die Hard." We started off with our favorite movie treat, warm and savory Freschetta personal pizza, which was just what the doctor ordered after a hard day at work. The movie was showing in regular theaters, but we elected to see it in the IMAX instead, although it must be said that this was pretty intense visually, and the sound was overwhelming. The story stands alone on its own, but admittedly would make more sense to someone who had already seen the previous films in the series, and was familiar with the characters and their situations. It starts off with a bang (literally) and goes charging off from there, dragging you right along with it, from one death-defying escapade to another, and no chance to catch your breath between explosions. It certainly never lags, and the time flies by in a hail of bullets, car chases and helicopter crashes. They leave out nothing, including the kitchen sink (there's a line about Bosco that is worth the price of admission all by itself) and there's so many double-crosses and plot twists that eventually you can't tell the good guys from the bad guys, in spite of the fact that half of them are Russians. (And personally, I think that the movie's tag line, "Yippee-ki-yay, Mother Russia" is a classic of the genre.) Bruce Willis is in fine form as always, and Aussie hunk Jai Courtney provides the requisite eye candy for the younger set. On this particular night, we had the entire IMAX stadium entirely to ourselves, and were all alone throughout - that is, except for 2 other lonesome souls all the way up in the upper row, and we never heard a peep out of them until the closing credits. Speaking of credits, all the way at the very bottom was a paltry list of 4 songs from the movie - and not to quibble, but one of which was only played over the credits, and another of which was the legendary Ode to Joy from Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, of all things. So it came as a big surprise to find them touting their soundtrack album, like this was the Die Hard version of My Fair Lady, with updated renditions of "I've Grown Accustomed to her Mace," "Get Me to the Bunker on Time," and "I Could Have Detonated All Night." In short, we liked the movie a lot, but will take a pass on the so-called soundtrack album, which seems to be just another case of words having lost all their meaning. Under the circumstances, I guess it's a lucky thing that circus peanuts are kosher for Passover, and that's the kind of regime I can live with, believe me. Elle