Can I Be Frank – Page 5 – Can I Be Frank & Crew?

The Lifecycle of ‘Back to School’

(Yes, another repost from back in 2013 but my blog team sucks and, frankly, so do I. Either way, its that time of year so here ya go, suckers. Dedicated to all my teacher folk -{pouring out to my homies})

No matter your color, creed, political affiliation or ethnicity when you hear the phrase “back to school” it elicits an emotion. From the time we can comprehend the concept until we are in our golden years those three words mean something to just about everyone; especially students, teachers and parents. But even for those beyond the educational starting-line that is “back to school”, the expression conjures up some feeling be it past, present or future. Every one of us has had to manage the passage of returning to school for some portion of our lives and later, many need to manage this annual happening with our offspring.

With the beginnings of another school year upon us again I began to think about the feelings that are mustered up when we hear those three little words And so, here is my review of the emotional roller coaster we each ride over the course of our lifetime when we hear that timeless expression.

Age 7: Wonder & Excitement

First grade baby! Are you kidding me? What on earth is better than 1st grade? You have already survived the politics and mind games that you surely confronted in kindergarten. Now it’s time to party. No more naps. No more half days. You have your own little friend posse and you are ready to take it out for a spin. First grade may be the last grade you enter with no real expectations or demands put upon you. Show up, shut up and smile…you’ll get straight ‘As’. Fact.

Age 11: Confusion & Uncertainty

Well, you have now dominated elementary school. You have been to the top of the mountain. King or Queen of that K-5 hill and now it’s time for the next chapter. But, not so fast my friend. It’s not that simple. Not only are you entering into those years with perhaps the largest age bracket of punks, sneaks and (future) criminals, you are in an all-out war with your hormones. For the fellas, they are noticing they are growing hair on more than their heads. What is this? Not to mention your voice sounds like you are the next of kin of Michael J. Fox and Peter Brady. Oh and let’s not forget about your, ah hem, newfound acquaintance with your…never mind. As for the young ladies, you are meeting two new close “friends” and not sure how you should manage their inauguration. That’s all I really know about girls (back then and now). As for the academics? Spanish? Algebra? More than ONE teacher to deal with? How do I get out of this one? Junior High sucks…on most levels.

Age 14: Fear & Loathing

Congratulations! You have managed the daily minefield that was Junior High School but now it’s time to take off the training wheels. It’s a brave new world. While you almost have your newfound adult form in check, you are now the littlest of tadpoles in the big pond. For the young men, you are getting pounded by the upper classmen; on the field, in the gym, in the hallways, in the parking lot. NO escape. Your only saving grace is there are REAL women here for you to gawk at! Yeowza! No more wearing sweatpants to school. I’ll leave it at that. And for you poor freshmen girls…that is how you are viewed by your elders; ‘girls’. Prepare yourself to be mocked ad nauseum by every single older female you come across. They will judge your clothes, your hair, your shoes, your friends…everything. Even if you are a squeaky clean all-American girl, you will be mocked and probably be rumored to have made out with the janitor, Carl, before Columbus Day. For you early developing 9th grade ladies, I always hated you. Why? Because you were not wasting your time with a silly co-ed freshmen boy like me when the senior captain of the basketball team named ‘Scooter’ has just asked you to the prom during orientation.

Age 18: Hip Hip HOORAY!!!

You made it! Graduated high school. You can vote. In some places you can drink! You have big dreams and ambitions. The world is your oyster. Oh, here is the really good part for the lucky ones; COLLEGE baby! On your own. No more parents and curfews. New friends to meet. Ridiculous theme parties. Fraternities. Tailgates. Awesomeness aplenty. Going ‘back to school’ for the 18 year old is the apex of life…so far. Breath in that higher educational air, start an ultimate Frisbee game, and chug that beer!

Age 21: Depressed & Scared

Where the hell did college go? What do you mean it’s over? Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? What do you mean I am not going ‘back to school’? I need to pay my own bills? What in God’s name is going on? Even for you brainy slicksters that continue on to law, med or grad school, the joke is on you. The school work is harder, the party has ended and, likely, so has your parents’ generosity. For the rest of you, grab a helmet and welcome to the real world. It stinks.

Age 30: Jealousy and Bitterness

You are likely at some mid-level job you hate. You may have gotten married. You may even have a kid or 2 of your own. Life has become just too real to fathom. When you see all those ads for ‘back to school’, you muster up intense feelings of envy and sadness. You can finally appreciate just how awesome school really was compared to the ‘real world’. You contemplate if there is any possible human way to turn back the clock? There isn’t. Put your head down…you are in for a long haul.

Age 40: Hopefulness and Joy

By 40, you probably have a few kiddos of your own running around the school hallways. You have channeled your previous anger and jealousy for the college years into positive feelings of hope and excitement for your children. For many of us, ‘back to school’ is once again awesome…but for totally different reasons. Those summer-time-dependents of yours are, once again, someone else’s problem for six hours a day for the next 10 months. Break out the bubbly!

Age 50: Oh Crap

By 50, you have two overpowering emotions that you have no idea how you will control and manage when ‘back to school’ is mentioned. Number 1, my ‘baby’ is leaving for college and 2, how on God’s green earth am I going to pay for it? In a related story, you are middle aged and gross. BOO!

Age 60: Oh well

The kids are grown up, moved on and no longer your problem; financial or otherwise. ‘Back to school’? Who cares? We are headed for Boca come October anyway.

Age 80: Who’s going back to school?

No really? I can’t hear very well.

In the immortal words of Billy Madison…

“Oh, Back to school, back to school

To prove to Dad I’m not a fool

I’ve got my lunch packed up, my boots tighed tight

I hope I don’t get in a fight

Oh, Back to school, back to school…”

Can I Be Frank

THIS WEEK’S NEWS: VOTE FOR DEEZ NUTS! No really…

What a week in the news it has been! After what seems to be an endless stream of media discussing only Deflategate (BTW – I hate this whole ‘gate’ thing. There was ONE gate in this country’s history – Watergate! That’s it! End of story!) the world has been exposed to, at the very least, some interesting and bizarre news this week.

Jared from Subway sandwich-endorsing fame appears to be going away for a while for not only child pornography but also for having sex with underage prostitutes. (Insert your ‘footlong’ joke here. Haha, “insert”.) They say addicts often substitute one addiction for another – maybe booze or cigarettes would have been a better replacement for food instead of 16 year old hookers, Fatso.

Ashley Madison, that oh-so-naughty website encouraging married folks to have an affair, has been hacked and leaking hundreds/millions of names of all you little cheaters! As my man @therealdantobin commented, the list consists of mostly dentists and kids soccer coaches (DISCLAIMER: Dan has no basis or proof of that statement, but I chuckled)

Addiyi, the female version of the drug Viagra, was officially approved and released this week. In my day they just called it Spanish Fly or, ya know, ROOFIES! But hey, tomato tomaaato. Enjoy the Lady boners!

BUT, my favorite story of the week hit the newswire last night when a 15 year old Iowa farm boy launched his 2016 Presidential campaign under the nomer “DEEZ NUTS”.

And guess what? His numbers are pretty solid!

Go get ’em Mr. Nuts…you have my vote, sir.

As usual, the New England Patriots were way ahead of the rest of ‘Murica especially the World’s Most Interesting Man, Rob Gronkowski

I guess it really does all come back to Deflate-GATE. Shit.

Can I Be Frank, Frank McCabe

Every 90s suburban white boys’ dream has arrived: Straight Outta Compton

Can I Be Frank?: Guilty Pleasures: Gangsta Rap

If you were a teenage boy in the late 80s and early 90s, you knew one thing better than your name; Gangsta rap!

While there were many ‘followers’ at the time, the true pioneers of this brand of angry hip hop was NWA; which of course stood for ‘N&$%^@ With Attitude’.

And in less than 3 weeks, the movie based on their story, Straight Outta Compton, comes out.

Anyway, a few years back I waxed poetic (not killing cops and raping women gangsta poetic but) about my affinity for this music. Timely repost.

I can’t wait. I only hope it lives up to the Chris Rock parody CB4 made 20 years ago…

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Can I Be Frank?: Guilty Pleasures: Gangsta Rap

(Originally Posted December 2012)

Allow me to introduce you to a few of my friends. Say hello to Dr. Dre, Ice Cube, MC Ren, Eazy E, Chuck D. Oh, and don’t let me forget all of the Ghetto Boys. OK, these guys are not my friends.

They represent some primary figures in the music genre known as ‘gangsta rap’. Most of these distinguished gentlemen made their way to fame in the late 80s and early 90s; the height of the gangsta rap craze. Those were some formative years for me as well; essentially my high school years. During this time these cursing crooners made a great impact on my life which resulted in a never ending affinity for their expletive-laced anti-love songs.

I would contend I am not alone.

I can at least speak for my circle of friends – which, by the way, primarily consists of chalky white men. We were all hooked on this violence-creating, women objecting, gun-promoting, drug-use-endorsing and downright filthy phenomenon. We bought the “records”. We watched the videos. And, worst of all, sang the songs. Start laughing ‘cause I am. There is nothing more pathetic or comical than a car full of pubescent, dorky, suburban white boys singing every word to ‘Straight Outta Compton’ (NOTE: F-Word used 21 times in this song alone!) as they cruise to the mall in their Mom’s Buick station wagon.

Oh we were just so dangerous.

If you have never had the listening pleasure of hearing some old school gangsta rap, let me give you a quick glimpse how it came to be. During that era, hip hop and standard rap music was just not good enough. In essence, a group of inner city California kids decided to take this music to a new level. The lyrics raved about the idea of killing police officers, defiling women, getting lost in drugs and basically unleashing total havoc on society. Frankly, they were geniuses for doing so. While the music was offensive to say the very least, they knew they had a market; 16 year old middle-class white boys who had never been near a gun, a drug, a jail cell, Compton, California or, in my case, a woman.

But this is not a lesson on the history of gangsta rap and its place in music history. As I combed through my You Tube playlist the other day I realized that many of these cult classics are occupying my ‘Favorites’ file (along with my Manilow, of course!). Apparently, these twisted tunes found their way deep into my subconscious because twenty years have passed and I can still bang out every single disgusting lyric to these mutha’ fuc….oops…sorry….lost in the moment.

Just a few of the classic cop-clubbing, pimp-slapping, arrest-warranting hits consuming my compilation…

Gangsta Gangsta

Boys in the Hood

Gangsta’s Paradise

Mind Playing Tricks on Me

Gangsta of Love (no, not the dorky Steve Miller version…but that would be more fitting)

F#&% tha Police

How I Could Just Kill a Man

Nuttin’ but a G Thang

So now for the quiz?

What is more pathetic and comical than a car full of pubescent, dorky, suburban white boys singing gangsta rap?

Yes, you in the back?

Um, Nothing?

Correct! Give our winner an autographed copy of MC Ren’s Kizz My Black Azz album (Yes, its a real record. That’s the actual title. And I owned a one).

The answer is a 38 year old white male, suburbanite, father of three belting out these bad boys while sitting at his desk in his V-neck Old Navy sweater and wrinkle-free Dockers. The truth is that the ONLY white men over the age of 35 that have ever looked cool rapping are The Beastie Boys (R.I.P. Adam “MCA” Yauch) and it should stay that way.

Funny as it may be, it remains a guilty pleasure and a fact. I have still never been near a gun, a jail cell, or a (serious ;)) drug. And the only woman around me now would justifiably punch me in the face if I ever even uttered any of this perverse pungent prose from my gangsta rap brothers.

I promise to continue to keep it real for my homies from hood….just in private from now on.

Can I Be Frank, Frank McCabe

THE IRISH PERF-EXIT

So, this Buzzfeed article about the Irish Exit has been circulating around the web for the past couple of days. It has been sent directly to me several times from friends because, like Frank Costanza’s ‘Stop Short’, its “my move”. I have been using this badboy for decades but because I don’t work for Buzzfeed or any other reputable news source, my expertise on the subject matter has gone largely unnoticed.

Below is Logan Rhoades’ article 14 Reasons Why The Irish Goodbye Is The Best Exit Strategy and below that is a blog (that later became the final chapter of the book) I wrote 4 years ago titled ‘I Hate Goodbyes’ about varying methodologies and practices to make your Irish Exit, well, perfect.

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14 Reasons Why The Irish Goodbye Is The Best Exit Strategy

Logan Rhoades

BuzzFeed Staff

The Irish goodbye (or whatever you may call it: ghosting, the Swedish/Irish exit, etc.) is basically when you leave somewhere unannounced.

It typically happens after a night of drinking, but the somewhat stealthy move can really be used in any social setting.

So why would someone do this?

It keeps the party going. By sneaking out, you’re allowing others to continue their conversation uninterrupted, which is really thoughtful and something only a good friend would do.
It also lets you leave alone. While exchanging farewells, it’s pretty common for others to piggyback on your departure, but that’s not possible when nobody knows you’re leaving.
In other words, you’re being an ideal guest by ghosting.
Now, there are, of course, personal reasons for the Irish goodbye. For instance, maybe you had a brief moment of clarity where you realized you need to leave now or something bad will happen.
Which, depending on how you want to look at it, also makes Irish exiters good party attendants because nobody likes this dude:
But the main reason for leaving without saying goodbye is because it’s easy.
And getting away with doing things the easy way is one of the greatest joys in life one can experience.
It’s sort of like the feeling one gets when removing one’s shoes or bra after a long day.
Or probably like that high that runners are always talking about.
Plus, it’s sort of fun to be sneaky and see if you can leave without being detected.
And honestly, saying goodbye can be a long process where you can potentially get caught up in multiple never-ending conversations, even though you’ve already expressed your desire to leave.
And let’s face it, some people are just plain awkward, so it’s best to avoid saying goodbye to them anyway.
So is it a little rude to not say goodbye to your friends and fellow party guests? Sure. But with the proper Irish exit, they won’t even know it.
And chances are you’ve done this move several times before, which means it’s now sort of your thing, so they should be understanding. And if they’re not, then THEY’RE the bad friend.

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I Hate Goodbyes

Originally posted August 11, 2011

I hate goodbyes.

Outside of your daughter leaving for college or Junior joining the Navy, goodbyes are unnecessary and annoying. In about 90% of the cases, saying a polite goodbye to someone is not required in my book. Chances are that you are saying goodbye to someone you see on a regular basis or someone you don’t really know or care about. In either case, do we really need to go through the exhausting exercise of saying goodbye?

Handshakes, kisses, hugs, bad jokes, empty promises, blah, blah…I just want to get out of here!

For the record, I am not some rude social-phobe or The Lone Gunman who doesn’t like to interact with people. I simply prefer to keep on moving without getting stuck in a drawn out and boring parting of company. On top of that, goodbyes always illicit some type of emotion (be it genuine or fake) or initiate a lie.

Goodbyes are just prolonging the inevitable. Everything ends. Everybody knows when school is out, the party of over, your last day of work, or you just don’t want to be there anymore.

Let me share a few techniques I have perfected that will ensure a speedy and goodbye-free exit from any situation. Use at your discretion.

The Houdini

You have had an awesome time (“Yeah, we know you had an awesome time, Frank”. Movie?) out with your buddies. A million laughs, a few beers and some great stories. Right now though, you are looking at your watch and just want to get home for the rerun of Mob Wives. So, you could do the handshake/high five/fist-bump-thing with all of your boys and get sucked into that one more beer or do what I do; tell them you are going to the bathroom and never come back. Never fails. In special cases you get out of the check too!

The Chauffeur

Family Party. It has been a long day. Kids are crabby (as is your spouse!). So, you can go through the exhaustive exercise of saying goodbye to Clark, Cousin Eddie, Grandpa Ed and the other 700 Griswalds or try this gem; tell your wife/husband you are putting a few things in the car…and don’t go back in! Trust me, after 10-15 minutes of your absence s/he will figure things out and quickly follow suite. (NOTE: Said spouse may be upset, but it is worth it)

The Fugitive

Company picnic, town fair, kid’s sporting event – name your outdoor social gathering. You have already had far too many terrible conversations for one day and just need to escape. This move is a little bit bold, but very effective. Simply walk away. I have found that a kind smile coupled with a few sidesteps away from crowd and you will quickly blend in with the masses as you work your way to the car. The key is to act casual and walk SLOWLY. Think Richard Kimball in The Fugitive. Any attention drawn to yourself could result in another brutal verbal exchange or, in Kimball’s case, imprisonment. Not sure which is worse? “YOU FIND THAT MAN!”

The Commuter

For those of you with a less than exciting office job with even less responsibility, here is a dangerous but extremely rewarding exit I invented in the early, post-college days. You will need the following items, a jacket (be sure it is seasonally appropriate), a spare set of keys and, if applicable, a pair of glasses. Strategically place these items around your work station. Be sure your computer is turned on and open to some type of work-related file. That’s pretty much it. Gracefully walk out the door and head for home. Co-workers will see the litany of personal items strewn on your desk and simply assume you are elsewhere in the building. By the time anyone realizes you are gone, it’s quitting time anyway!

The Man Without a Country

In truly desperate and painful situations, this one is your last resort. Quite honestly, there is no strategy behind it. You just leave or, in special instances, RUN. And when I say “leave” – leave everything and go. Leave your wallet, your phone, your keys and your dignity. Just run. The Man Without a Country is typically reserved for situations involving the authorities, an ex-boy/girlfriend, or the IRS. I would not recommend this move as you are surely to be left without critical personal property. But hey, a man has to do what a man has to do.

Practice a few these at home with your family (I am sure there are plenty of conversations you want to escape from there as well). Perfect these moves and you will find yourself sitting on your couch by the time anyone looks around and asks “Where did Frank go?” The risk you run performing any of these disappearing acts is getting caught. When you do, you are going to be on the receiving end of the taunting of your buddies, the scowl of your spouse, the look of disappointment from your neighbors, a subpeona or a restraining order. But that’s OK – keep at it!

Until next time….. (Yep, I just ducked out the back door)

Can I Be Frank, Frank McCabe

BOB LOBEL DEAD! No wait, just Oklahoma

Bob Barry Jr, KFOR Sports Director, Dies In Motor Vehicle Accident In Oklahoma

Bob Barry Jr, a sports director for KFOR in Oklahoma City, died in a car accident Saturday afternoon. The sportscaster was being remembered at public memorial service Friday, according to KJRH.

Barry was riding a motor scooter southbound on North May when police say Gustavo Gutierrez-Castillo, 26, unlicensed driver made an illegal U-Turn in front of him. Police say Bob was struck near Memorial and North May Avenue in downtown Oklahoma City.

Police have arrested the driver of the car for manslaughter, driving without a state license and causing an injury accident. Police also say he was in possession of cocaine.

Bob Barry Jr hit the driver’s side of the car and was thrown over 20 feet. He was not wearing a helmet.

Barry was rushed to OU Trauma Center where he was pronounced dead. As reports were circulating about Bob, Sam Presti finally emerged from his draft night war room, a touch after midnight, to discuss the newest members of the Oklahoma Thunder.

But before fielding questions, Presti wanted to acknowledge the recent passing of Bob Barry Jr. His full statement:

“One thing before we get started,” Presti began. “Obviously there is someone missing from the room tonight, Bob, and I think it would be inappropriate for me to just begin talking without acknowledging the loss that the community has endured with his passing. Just one thing I thought I wanted to touch on in regards to that before we get started talking about tonight, when I got the news of the events, obviously it is really sad because we have all come to know him and I am obviously new to the area to some degree, but it really made me think about the role that all of you guys play in communities all over the place.

Presti said Bob Barry Jr delivered sports to him when he was a kid. Barry was using a different name when he worked in Massachusetts.

“Immediately, the thing that struck me was that I thought about the person that delivered sports news to me when I was a kid. That guy’s name, I will never forget, on Channel 4 WBZ in Massachusetts was Bob Lobel. He had a huge impact in my appreciation and enthusiasm for sports. I really believe that I waited, if I was allowed to stay up late enough at night, to have him tell me about Wade Boggs or Dwight Evans or Robert Parrish or Ray Bourque or all these different people and I think that it grows the appreciation for sports in young people and people all over the place. As much as they are reporters, I also think that people like yourselves are really communicators that have a huge influence on people that follow sports. Obviously, it is a tremendous loss, but I also think it is an opportunity to kind of reflect a little bit on what those people do in terms of introducing people to sports on a much different level.”

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I hate to break this shocking news but long-time Boston sportscaster and TV personality Bob Loebl has died in a car accident.

Nope, wait nevermind, those shit-kickers from Oklahoma just got it wrong.

How does this happen? How do you have 2 guys mixed up like this and publish it on a (supposedly) reputable news outlet? I mean, the folks here at CIBF & C get our facts wrong all the time but we are not claiming to be CNN, Fox News or even The Muppet Show.

So many holes in this story too. Lobel would never be caught dead riding a motor scooter without a helmet and if there cocaine to be found at the scene, it would have been on Bobby’s person.

And how about Sam Presti? What a moron? Sir, are you insane, you thought this guy was Bob Lobel? Did you really grow up in Boston or Fantasyland, Sammy? You, my good mad, are an imbocile.

So, tighten that shit up Oklahoma. You are already considered one the village idiots as far as states in our great nation – no sense to add lightening to the Thunder (Thunder, you see how I just…). Nevermind.

RIP Bob Barry, Jr.

Viva la Lobel

Can I Be Frank, Frank McCabe

Only in Lowell: The Cities

lowellcitytournament.com

The City of Lowell Golf Tournament celebrates it’s 90th anniversary this year. “The Cities” as it is more commonly known started in 1923 and is the oldest known local amateur golf tournament of its kind in the country. Members from Mount Pleasant Golf Club, Long Meadow Golf Club, Nabnasset Lake Country Club and Vesper Country Club qualify at their home courses to play in this unique 54-hole medal play event. Each club fields a team of 12 with three alternates. Both individual and team titles are up for grabs. This year’s tournament will begin at Vesper Country Club on Wednesday, June 24. The second round will be at Mt. Pleasant Golf Club on Friday, June 26 and the final round will be played on Saturday, June 27 at Long Meadow Golf Club.

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To quote CBS golf analyst, Jim Nance, ‘A tradition like no other... ‘ Of course, Nance is referencing the famed Masters not the nearly 100 year old Lowell City tournament. But for my money (which is about $2.75/beer), The Cities is far more entertaining. Local golfers play in three competitive rounds in June each year from 4 local clubs. And while these players are considered “amateurs” The Cities has spawned the golf lives of many players that went on to professional careers. In my opinion, this is one of the greatest traditions in this city and it continues to thrive almost a century later.

OK, that is the history lesson of the Cities, now lets talk about what’s really happening here.

The Cities – for all those NOT playing – is a 3 day party.

The Cities is an excuse to leave work at lunch time.

The Cities is a place where Lowellians go who have never played or watched (or can even spell the word) ‘golf’.

The Cities is a reason to walk at a snail’s pace around a golf course, Irish whispering to the guy you sat next to in 9th grade home room while pounding Bud Lights for no reason other than it is 1PM on Wednesday.

The Cities’ crowd is like an scene out of Happy Gilmore, minus Bob Barker

The Cities is the unofficial Lowell High School reunion for every graduating class since 1960.

The Cities is a right of passage for high school kids to sneak a few warm Miller High Life’s they stashed in the woods and responsible adults simply turn a blind eye.

The word ‘kid’ is used more times during The Cities than any other time in history. Ever.

The Cities rule…KID!

My wife is non-Lowellian so naturally had no clue to The Cities experience until she was blessed with meeting me. “Yeah, Aim, we are heading over to this golf tournament….at Mt Pleasant…on a Friday….to WATCH.” What tha? “No, its really fun, trust me.” Think of how insane that must sound to someone who has never been before? Next thing you know I am stuffing beers in her purse and we are following around some 20 year old from Pelham whom I have never met in my life, in 90 degree heat, just because he shot a 69 at Long Meadow. It it effin crazy if you step back.

I may sound like an insane high school hero here but The Cities is an institution and whether you like golf or not, this event is a desperate but legit argument to stand outside, whack cocktails and pretend you have even a vague interest in golf.

Who’s in?

See ya tomorrow, kid.