Your LG Report Guide to Key West, Part I - The Scenery

Coming tomorrow: Part II - Key West's Restaurants and Bars
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Readers have e-mailed to say that they're contemplating a vacation to Key West, Florida and that they'd like The LG Report's insider view.  Good move.  The LG Report has been to Key West many times and considers itself somewhat of an expert. 

You're probably wondering, "How many times an individual can refer to himself as an entity, such as The LG Report?"  Many times, I assure you.  In fact, an annoyingly large number of times.  Just watch.

Before we start our review of Key West and all that it has to offer, allow me to say: Pamela Anderson, Angelina Jolie, Kate Gosselin, Oprah Winfrey, Octo-Mom, Balloon Boy, Pants Down Song, Susan Boyle, Avatar and Tiger Woods.

Sorry, I'm just increasing my odds of getting random hits from people using popular Google search terms.  Hits are king.

I know you're busy, so I'll just feed you a few of the basics on Key West before we go to the photos.  Both a city and an island, Key West is the  southernmost point in the continental United States, something which you'll see at every turn of the head when there.  There's the Southernmost Motel, the Southernmost Hotel, the Southernmost House,  The Southernmost Ice Cream Store, the Southernmost Manhole Cover, the Southernmost Crushed Soda Cup in the Street, etc.)

Lore has it that Key West got its name from an Americanized pronunciation of the Spanish phrase "Cayo Heuso," which means "Bone Island."  It was so named because the land was believed to be a burial ground, or possibly a battlefield, containing the remains of Native Americans. 

Some locals still call it "Bone Island" because of the frequent sexual liaisons among visitors.  Actually, I just made up that last sentence.  The rest was true.

I could go into a l-o-n-g, detailed and boring recitation of all that Key West has to offer, but, instead, I'll provide a short and boring recitation of all that Key West has to offer. 

One good description of Key West: A permanent Spring Break for Adults.  There are very few non-tourist-focused activities on the island.  There are a couple of courthouses and a post office, and just about everything else caters to tourists.  Although, I guess the courthouses adjudicate the rowdy wrongdoings of tourists, and the post office sends their postcards home, so scratch my previous statement.  It's all about tourists.

The photos used in today's and tomorrow's posts were all taken by my good friend Stan, who is an excellent photographer.  He's also a top-notch woodworker/carpenter, computer technician, photo framer, etc.  I could go on and on about his talents, but will save my boring rhetoric for the rest of this posting.

Key West is not very big, just over seven square miles. One of the island's most popular activities is to gather at Mallory Square to watch the sunset, usually with a cocktail in hand.  The area is packed with bars, restaurants and other viewing spots.  You'll see pictures and descriptions of some of those tomorrow.  Today we're focusing on the non-bar/restaurant scenery. Off we go....

This is the monument at the Southernmost Point on the island.  Tourists generally stand in line to get their photo taken next to it (no charge) so that they can e-mail it back to Aunt Ida in Topeka. There's really not much to it, but like seeing the Alamo when in San Antonio, you have to do it.  Tourist traps are tourist traps, no matter where they're located.  But at least this one is free. 

The monument is not technically on Key West's Southernmost Point, but that's on a Naval base and not accessible to tourists, so the city went with this site.  This simulated buoy was erected in 1984 because the signs that previously marked the site were repeatedly stolen.  Nobody's going to steal this massive concrete mofo.  And that claim about "90 miles to Cuba" painted on the monument is false; it's actually 94 miles from there.

Tip: If you stand next to the monument for a photo, try to cover the graffiti to the right of the word "Point."  Big-butted people will be especially successful at this, so hold off on joining Jenny Craig until you get back.






This large house is typical of the style of architecture that you'll find in the Florida Keys. I believe the technical term for it is "pink," but I'm not an architect.  I was going to rent this place last time I visited, but it was too small for my needs.  I require a lot of room when I spread out to blog.

Those people in the foreground are not pictured in actual size.

Depicted here is the Key West Waterfront on the western side of the island, near Mallory Square. As you can see, Key Westers take their cable TV seriously and do not want anyone anchoring their boats near the lines that bring in ESPN.  Anderson Cooper wanted to anchor his CNN show from this dock once, but he was told that anchoring wasn't allowed here.  You knew I had to squeeze another bad pun out of that sign.

This is the famous Key West Lighthouse, built in 1847.  I tried to lift it, it's not really that light. The red flowers in the foreground are a rare form of rose found only on Key West.  The botanical term for them is "Bloggeris bullshittingu."  Ok, scratch the last two sentences.  They're just bougainvilleas, I guess. I'm not a botanist.

This is the "Conch Train," a popular option for Key West sightseeing.  You can look down on everyone riding the Conch Train because they are tourists.  You, on the other hand, using The LG Report's inside information, are practically a local. Feel free to snort at these clueless scumbags when they roll by. Geo's friend Bob Sloan once drove his rental car into this train (true story.)  I hope Bob Googles himself a lot; just like the Conch Train, I'll get a hit from him!

This is a Key West beach.  You won't see many of these because you'll be in the bars late each night and waking up well into the afternoon, so soak up the details now.  Buy some postcards with beach scenes to send home, but avoid questions about what the beach was like.

"It had a lot of sand," is usually a good response if pressed.

This guy is one of Key West's most famous buskers.  He speaks in a weird French accent, probably learned from public television.  People call him "The Catman" because his highly entertaining act involves trained cats.  The star of the show is "Os-car, Os-car!"  He yells it so much that you'll hear the name in your sleep. His catch phrase is "Hurry up, hurry up! Take your time."  It's much funnier when spoken than it is in print.  I think that's Os-car! Os-car! in front of the Catman.  Notice the cords hanging down from the bottom of his pants?  Don't ask...    

This is, in my opinion, one of Stan's coolest photos.  Taken just after sunset at Mallory Square, it wasn't, as you might expect, shot using a red filter.  Rather, Stan's eyes were still bloodshot from the night before and the hi-tech lens picked that up.

Remember folks, Key West Part II is coming tomorrow, stay tuned....

Election Day: The Great Razzle Debate

Today a special election is being held in Massachusetts to fill the U.S. Senate seat vacated by the death of Ted Kennedy.  Pundits say that this election may determine the fate of healthcare in the United States.  Is there anyone who isn't sick of the healthcare debate? Is that sickness itself covered by the new healthcare scheme? Does global warming get you hot under the collar?  Do you really care about any of this?

One thing I know that LG Report readers care about is the decades-long debate over Razzles: Are they a gum or a candy? 

At least that's how Concord Confections, Ltd. of Concord, Ontario frames the question.  I won't add the "Canada" part because this is an international blog, and we all obviously know where Ontario is.  Canada is my kind of town.

By the way, Concord Confections is now owned by Tootsie Roll Industries.  How would you like to tell people that you work at "Tootsie Roll Industries?"  I guess someone has to do it.  I bet they'd fire any employee who says, "I have to go to the bathroom now and make some more Tootsie Rolls."

Back to Razzles.

 They were originally sold in 1966 with an advertising slogan and jingle of:

"First it's a candy, then it's a gum. Little round Razzles are so much fun."

I'd like everyone at home to try singing that to themselves aloud.  It's catchy, don't you think? 

If you really did sing that aloud, you're my kind of reader.  Stick around, there may be cake later.  And Razzles.



The original Razzles flavour (as they spell it in Canada) was raspberry. The name was based on a fictional flavor that the company intended to introduce, Razzleberry, but it never worked out.  History's loss.

So here's the debate: I don't think "Is Razzles a gum or a candy?" is the right question; I say it should be "Do Razzles display even the slightest hint of ever being a candy at any point in time?"   [Please note that I used a Razzleberry background color.]

Does anyone ever say to themselves, "I really feel like a piece of candy, I think I'll grab some Razzles and then just spit them out when they morph into gum."  I say, NO WAY! 

The mere mention of Razzles as a candy is a sham on the candy-consuming public.  It's a gum, and a Grade A gum at that, so why doesn't the manufacturer just proudly advertize it as such? 

I figured out how to add a polling feature to this blog (shout out to Dan and his Snuggs slippers for the suggestion) so that you, dear readers, will have a chance to voice your opinion.  I know this issue is near-and-dear to your heart but please, only vote once -- no logging on from other screen names to register multiple votes.  Let's be fair to the Tootsie Roll Industries people, they have it hard enough.  

The polling feature can be found at the top of the right hand column of today's posting.

Before you make up your mind, here's blogging world heart throb Geo to weigh in on the issue:

"Razzles is both a candy and a gum. Even if it is a candy for only a short duration--three seconds--it exists as a candy for that time. Laz should well know that events with short durations still exist, no matter how speedily they transpire."

So there's Geo's opinion. Please take a few seconds to vote and we'll reveal the results tomorrow (or the next day; my not-so-sneaky way to keep you coming back...)

By the way, Ted Kennedy was reportedly a big Razzles fan and was buried with a pack in his suit coat breast pocket.

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You've probably noticed by now the ads that appear in the right hand column.  I signed up for something called "AdSense," its administered by a company owned by Google.  All companies will eventually be owned by Google, as will all people.  Unless Facebook conquers us first.

It appears that AdSense uses an automated program to detect words in blog postings, and then matches them up with appropriate ads.  You may recall that I wrote one fairly short piece on the Pinewood Derby a couple of weeks ago. Ads for Pinewood Derby cars and tracks followed for a week or so.  I seriously doubt that any readers of The LG Report are interested in buying professionally-made Pinewood Derby cars, but such is the advertising game, I guess. Those crazy ole Mad Men, what can you do?

It is, however, a savvy program: as soon as I posted yesterday's piece about Greece, ads immediately appeared for vacations and other travel-related services.  It will be interesting to see what, if anything, they do with an intellectually-challenging post about something as complex as Razzles.  Maybe they'll post ads for Ph.D. programs in dispute resolution.  And if they post ads for strictly gum or strictly candy products, we'll know AdSense's opinion in this raging debate.      

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The LG Report Mini-Movie Review on "Youth in Revolt:"  It sucks, don't waste your money.  Not funny. Don't even waste your time reading a full review.

Until tomorrow kids.....

My Good Friend Sal Magundi

Those of you who are intelligent, i.e. the majority of The LG Report readers, will know that "salmagundi" is an actual word in the English language, and not the name of my friend. 

I have a cousin Sal, but his last name is not "Magundi."  I would tell you his last name but then I'd have to enter the Witness Protection Progam (again.)

Salmagundi is defined as:  1.a dish of chopped meat, eggs, etc. flavored with onions, anchovies, vinegar, and oil;  2.any mixture or medley. 

We are using the latter definition for purposes of this post.

Let's start with this 2004 photo taken on the Greek island of Santorini: 

Visible are the domes of two churches, one in the foreground and one in the background, overlooking the Aegean Sea.  My father was born and raised in Greece, and I've been there about ten times or so.  Take it from me, there are a lot of churches in Greece.  A shitload, in fact, to use an ecumenical term.  But, believe me, I'm not trying to get all theological on you. Don't head for the exits, I need my clicks.

Here's another picture from Greece:


This picture overlooks my father's hometown, Gavrion, and its port, on Andros Island in the Cyclades island chain.  It's hard to discern from this distance -- the photo was taken before I knew I'd be blogging --but there are a lot of small churches dotting the hillside.  Many of those little white spots you see against the brown hills are chapels that can accommodate no more than 10 people.  Some have room for even fewer worshippers.

My uncle Leo, like my father, was born and raised on Andros.  He's pictured here on the far right.  Uncle Leo was the best uncle as you could ever hope for:  fun, funny, nice...everybody loved him.  And, on top of all that, he had a nice fishing boat.  This photo was taken about three weeks before he died at a dinner we had high up in the mountains above Gavrion.

Uncle Leo emigrated to the U.S. in the 1950s.  There he built a very successful life for himself and his family.  He and my father had some truly wacky adventures.  Perhaps I'll recount them another set of blog posts, or maybe a book someday, who knows. 

Uncle Leo retired back to Gavrion with Aunt Rita (2nd from left) for his final years. 

Now to the point.

Everytime I go to Greece, I'm impressed with the religious zeal of people who would climb way, way up desolate hillsides to build churches in almost total isolation.  It always strikes me that these are very faith-filled people. I also wonder how parishoners would actually get to these buildings, because they are frequently erected in impossible-to-get-to locations, far from any roads.  

Then, not long before Uncle Leo died, I was in Greece and, surveying the landscape, I said to him, "I can't believe how devoted to the Lord Greeks are.  They build these little churches all over the place, no matter how isolated they are.  It must be really difficult to get building materials to these remote locations."

Uncle Leo looked at me in disbelief, as if I had just stepped off a spaceship.  "What are you talking about?' he said, with a disdainful tone reserved for idiots.  This was familiar since my father had used it on me many times while I worked in his diners. 

"You get a tax break in Greece for having a church on your property.  People do it to pay less in taxes." 

Ah, yes, of course.  Twenty-five years of illusions shattered in five seconds.  Such is life.
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The turmoil at NBC is really having far-reaching effects.  Supposedly, if Conan O'Brien leaves, the network will have to pay him $30 million.  In order to recoup some of that loss, NBC has asked its stars to take on second jobs.  Here you can see The Today Show's Matt Lauer in an ad for his new part-time job as a pharmacist.  Word is that he may be swiping some prescription-strength Rogaine under the table. 




Have a good night folks.

Weekend Update (Without Seth Meyers)

Ok, so it's not the New York Times Society Section, but here are some photos, and my accompanying commentary, from Friday and Saturday nights.  It's the weekend and things are a bit slow; this was the best I could do.  Stick with it, the posts will get better...and better...

First, from Friday night, here are Anne and Renee at Molly's, an Irish pub in Gramercy Park:

These ladies had just finished chaperoning the Epiphany School's 7th and 8th grade dance.  Epiphany doesn't allow parents to chaperone their own kids' dances.  Apparently, it makes the kids feel self-conscious about trying to hold a hand, sneak a kiss or puff a fat joint (there goes my "G" rating....) 

Anne and Renne have sons in the 6th grade at Epiphany, so they kindly volunteered.  The school needed even more chaperones, so at the last minute they also recruited Mary Kay Letourneau (former teacher from suburban Seattle), Demi Moore and Roman Polanski.

Here's a picture of the duo outside of Molly's:

The blurry person on the far left behind Renee had just been shot in the right butt cheek and was running for medical attention.  We were too busy taking this glam shot to help out.

Let's hope Renee and Anne aren't embarassed about being photographed wearing the same jacket (the collar differs a bit, but, let's face it -- it's the same.)  If you ladies disagree, feel free to post a comment.  I'm turning into a comment-whore, as well as a click-whore.

Renee's husband, Rory (not pictured), is a very personable Irishman, and one of the best anasthesiologists in New York.  I spelled that on my own, by the way.  And no, he doesn't use Bailey's Irish Cream or Guiness in his work. 

Anne's husband, Geo (also not pictured), frequently shows up on The LG Report.  It disturbs me to say this, but someone e-mailed me yesterday to say that "...any post with Geo in it is pure gold."  Who knew that Geo would become a blog cult figure?  T-shirts will be available soon.

Fast forward to Saturday night at the Jersey Shore.  My sister and I went to Pete and Elda's for dinner. It's a legendary Italian bar/restaurant in Neptune City.  Waits for a table of an hour or two are not uncommon, especially in the warm weather months.  As previously mentioned, a Pete and Elda's review will be coming in the spring.  Here's a picture of the owner, George:

I took this from across the bar in dim light, so the quality is not good.  George is actually much uglier in person.  A little blurrier, and this could easily pass for a Bigfoot photo.

I hope George doesn't read this, because he'll never buy me a drink again.  Actually, he's a very good guy (really), and if you mention that you read about Pete and Elda's on The LG Report, I'm sure it will get you a ....handshake.  I went to my 8th grade prom with George's sister (we're much younger than him, of course) but I don't think she'd admit that today.

Due to a technical difficulty, the photo I took of lovely bartender Tonya was mistakenly erased. Ok, maybe it was more of a human error than a technical difficulty.  I know that Tonya is going to read this (since I badgered her mercilessly to log in), so I promise that she'll be featured prominently when I do the full-on review in the spring.  Sorry, Tonya honest mistake on my part.  Please don't spit in my drinks.

Here we see two fellow Pete and Elda's patrons, the lovely Anne (right) and her surly daughter Maureen:


These ladies were sitting next to us and we struck up a conversation.  I think it started when they mistook me for George Clooney.  They're originally from Stony Brook, Long Island, but now live at the Jersey Shore.  They weren't so bad for Long Islanders.

Anne, a very charming woman, runs the Brielle Learning Center in Manasquan.  Geography is the only thing that she doesn't teach.  Actually, her business used to be located in Brielle, so the name is not really that ill-fitting. 

While in this photo it may appear that Anne is giving me the "Ba-fan-gool" Italian salute, she's actually heeding Maureen's advice to cover her chin for the camera.  Saavy women, I learned, don't let their unobscured chins show in photos.  Notice how Maureen slyly props up hers?  Before she pulled this move, it looked like she was wearing a bib.  Just kidding.  Really.
  
As mentioned, Anne is delightful woman, but Maureen, well...she had a tendency to get up in my face, like my sister sometimes does.  Why do women always pick on me?  Nonetheless, since I may run into Maureen again at Pete and Elda's, maybe even when my back is turned and she has something sharp or heavy in her hand, I'll say for the record that she was a nice fun pleasant decent person.  Actually, she was enjoyable to talk to -- once you got used to her native New Yorker edge.  I think she only gave me the middle finger twice.  

If you live at the Jersey Shore, you should seriously consider sending your kids to Anne's Brielle Learning Center so that they can learn to write a sophisticated blog like this one.  Sometimes I'll use words with 8 or more letters.  Anne strikes me as a very patient and good teacher, despite the way Maureen turned out.  

I'm closing out this post with a picture of my godson, Luigi.  Tell me he isn't the cutest boy you've ever seen. He's smiling because he knows that he can count on his godfather to teach him a bunch of magic tricks, dirty jokes and inappropriate sayings when he gets to the proper age (I'd say seven should be good enough...)

That's it for today folks, thanks for logging on and please come back soon!

Celebrating Life's Sweet Victories

We'd could all use more victories in life, no doubt.  And more celebrations, too.  With that in mind, I have just the thing for you. 

But first, allow me to provide some background.

I have a friend named Andy.  I've made it my policy thus far, in the third week of The LG Report, not to reveal last names, unless I'm talking about a public figure (e.g. Martha Stewart.)  Andy is a lawyer in Philadelphia.  He's a very public, larger-than-life figure to those who know him, but I'll conceal his last name, for now, nonetheless.

I've known Andy for what seems like an eternity, but our friendship probably dates from 1994 or 1995.  Andy sailed through life happily as a bachelor, until he met, became smitten with, and married (about five years ago), the exceedingly lovely Deb. 

She is attractive, charming, intelligent and genuinely nice.

Andy is loud, sometimes rude, juvenile, loud (did I mention that one already?), a practical joker and loud (I really need to drive that one home).  Oh, and everyone loves him.  But I won't swell his head by reciting his good qualities.  It really wouldn't take long though.

Deb marrying Andy, was like the Queen of England marrying Tarzan. 

There's a saying that originated on playgrounds and eventually spilled over into society: "Playing above the rim."  In sports, it means that you're playing better than you usually do -- performing at a level that's "out of your league." 

This saying has been applied in another context to romance.  When you are "playing above the rim" in a relationship, it means that you're out of your league or dating someone who is too good for you. 

Andy, when he married Deb, practically bumped his head on the ceiling of the Spectrum, that's how far over the rim he was.  I trust you get my point.

Deb was a very successful financial services industry executive before she left her job in 2009 and followed her passion to baking.  She is privy to a long-held family recipe for a delicacy called an "Irish Victory Cake."
Deb's great grandfather, James MacDowell (of the MacDougall Clan) was a baker in Belfast, Northern Ireland.  He created, or at least perfected, a recipe for rich, buttery cakes that were beautifully decorated.

The baking talents of James MacDowell were in demand among the royalty of Ireland, Scotland and England.  He won gold medals in baking competitions throughout the British Isles.  But, intent on providing his family with a better life, James MacDowell found an American sponsor, and emigrated to Syracuse, NY to further develop his special talents.

Apparently, he wanted to have his cake and eat it too (sorry, I couldn't resist; that's not in the official bio in case you were wondering.)

Cutting to the chase, Deb was kind enough to send me a Victory Cake recently.  They are fabulous.  Scrumptous.  Yummy.  A real treat.  And I don't endorse just any old product, I really have to believe in it. 

Victory Cakes look like muffins in size and shape, but that's where the similarity ends.  Just as three Jennifer Anistons are the same size as Rosie O'Donnell, it's a deceiving comparison.

Here's a picture of the tasty Victory Cake that Deb sent me:

Well, actually, that's not really the entire Victory Cake, just the remnants of it.  I meant to take a picture before I devoured it, but I couldn't hold out. 

I hope you get the point: these babies are good.  If you're interested in ordering, you can go to http://www.macdougallscakes.com/.  You can also contact Deb directly by e-mail at macdougallscakes@verizon.net or by phone at (610) 608-6889.  These babies make great gifts too, if you don't want to keep all the sweetness to yourself.

To the right is the card that came with my shipment.  I think it was the only thing in the box that I didn't eat. 

That's the post for today.  I just wanted to turn you on to a great new taste treat.  Victory Cakes are so good that you'd expect to find them at Wegmans! 

I'd suggest that Andy get himself a helmet, because now that Deb is making these cakes, he's so far above the rim that he's really going to be hitting his head on the ceiling.

Until tomorrow...

Our Cash Cab Cash Grab

On May 15, 2009, my friend Geo and I appeared on The Discovery Channel's show "Cash Cab," hosted by Ben Bailey.  That's him leaning on the cab to the left.  Ben's a nice guy on the show, and in person too.

I have a video clip of our appearance, which was actually filmed in June of 2008, but I can't figure out how to post it on this stinkin' blog site. I've tried a number of tricks, including using the "help" feature (men hate clicking on "help," it's like stopping to ask directions), but it led me nowhere. 

If you want me to e-mail the clip to you, send me a note.  In the meantime, I'll keep trying to figure out how to post it here.  A shout out to my friend Stan Berson for converting the DVD of our appearance into a video clip.  He's an all-around talented guy (if you need high-end, small-job carpentry done in the Monmouth County area, let me know and I'll put you in touch.) 

I tried to convert the DVD myself, but don't think I had the correct software.  Or, maybe, just not the correct brain.

Nothing is easy.  Unless it is.

Back to the show.  We had to sign a non-disclosure agreement (NDA) pertaining to certain aspects of the production, so I can't tell you a number of the more interesting things, sorry.  Maybe over a beer.  I think the producers made us agree that if we violated the NDA, we'd be forced to ride with a real NYC taxi driver for a day and endure the smell.  In July.  With the windows up. 

Ben is a licensed NYC cabbie, or so he says, despite not speaking or smelling like one.  He claimed he'd never been in an accident and has insurance.  That would make him one-of-a-kind among NYC taxi drivers.

The adventure began when we got into the cab (the NDA prevents me from explaining "Why us?") and the lights went off overhead.  If you've seen the show, you know what I'm talking about.  It looks very disco-like for a few seconds, as if John Travolta's dance floor had been transplanted onto the cab ceiling.

Ben explained the rules, and asked us if we wanted to play.  Of course we agreed.  Then we were asked to step out of the cab to sign the NDA and various other authorization and tax forms.  There's always paperwork, no matter what you do.

A small crowd gathered on the sidewalk at this point, because people recognized Ben, and the cab.  We were on the corner of 61st and Broadway. I tried to sign some autographs, but nobody was biting.

We got back into the cab and Ben drove down Broadway, on our way to BLT Fish, a restuarant about 45 blocks or so away.  They said the exact distance on the show, but I'm in too much of a rush right now to re-play the clip.  I'm in the right ballpark though, I'm sure.

Geo, my friend and cab mate, is well above average at trivia.  He won an episode of Jeopardy! (don't forget the exclamation point!) back in the 1960s, I think.  He lost the second game, however, because one of the other guys was lightning quick on the buzzer, a big key to winning.  I also think they interrupted his episode for a speech by President Kennedy or something.  Anyway, Geo knows his trivia.

The first question was relatively simple: "A depiction of a black lightning bolt on a yellow background with the letters "HV" below it warns of what hazard?"

Geo froze up, later saying that he could only think of HIV, so I answered "High voltage."  Ben affirmed that the answer was correct.

Geo remained in a state of suspended animation for the next question -- I thought he may have been hypnotized by the disco lights or something -- but then he suddenly thawed out.  Geo was especially good on the "Red Light Challenges" which each require a five-part answer (one involved actresses and he subscribes to "Variety," so that was easy.)

We got the first seven or so questions correct.  For such a short clip, you'd think I'd have all these stats memorized, but I don't. And it was "doubles week" so each question counted for double the money.  Geo and I still argue over who was responsible for more of our correct answers.  He says it was him,  and I know it was me.  In reality, it was close to a 50/50 split.  Regardless, we were on a hot streak.

If you've read this blog with any regularity, you know I'm a very self-effacing guy. Humble and modest are two words used to describe me by many.  You can stop coughing now.  But, I will modestly say that I was on a roll in the cab with witticisms.  For example, at one point Ben had to stop asking questions for a few seconds because we were in heavy traffic and he said that he didn't want to get into an accident.

"Yeah, afterall," I said, "We're in the Cash Cab, not Crash Cab." 

That bit of comedy ended up on the cutting room floor.  As did most of my other humorous interludes during that ride. 

It must be the policy of the show to not allow passengers to be funnier than Ben.  They don't want anyone to show up their high-priced star, especially some average schmo off the street.

Our momentum was shattered by two consecutive wrong answers, both on science:  "What's the technical name for a three-quarters full moon?" 

Think.....ah, face it, you don't know...very few do when I ask them.

The other was "What are the two words that describe the speed you need to reach to leave the Earth's atmosphere? There are two correct responses."  

Both answers are at the very bottom of this post.

Shortly after the second wrong answer, we pulled up to our stop.  Ben offered us an optional double-or-nothing "video bonus" question.  This involves him showing contestants a ten-second video clip from a Discovery Channel show, and then asking a question relating to the subject of that clip.  So, for example, the clip may show fish swimming underwater and then the question will be "What is the largest species of fish?"   

We had $2,600 in winnings on the cab's meter at this point. Ben told us that if we got it right, we'd be the second highest winners in the four-year history of the show.  That would be a pretty impressive distinction, I thought.  But we weren't obligated to go for the bonus question, we could just walk away with the cash.

I was tempted to go for it.

Geo, however, jumped right in immediately and said "No, no, no, no," while making a side-to-side waving gesture. 

If we were in a casino, and it was just me and a dealer, I probably would've gone for it.  But knowing that this would be on national TV changes things quite a bit.  I knew that if we got it wrong, I would never hear the end of it from certain friends, especially golfing buddies.  Just when I was about to tee off, they'd yell whatever the answer was that I'd missed.  I just couldn't risk that; the money had nothing to do with it.

However, thanks to Geo's demonstrative protest, it was easy for me to blame him as being the wuss who prevented us from rolling the dice.  Now, almost two years later, I can admit that it was an equal decision.  Writing a blog sets your free; Geo wasn't totally to blame. 

This is where I'd admit to taking steroids too, if it were true, but it's not.  I think that blaming Geo for passing on the Cash Cab final question is the only sin that I have to confess, other than that, I'm a choirboy.

We told Ben that we were passing, and got out of the cab.  We went on our way, each $1,300 richer (before taxes).  It was a fun experience.  They treated us well, and, hopefully, they won't sue me since I've kept all the secrets. 

My friends who don't read this blog will still think that it was Geo's fault that we wimped out on the final question. 

Yes, yes, yes, Geo.

PS This is not my sneaky way of getting Geo to e-mail my blog link to all of his friends and relatives to vindicate himself.

Until next time kidz.... 

_________________________________________________

1. Gibbous; and 2) Escape velocity or parabolic velocity.

Various & Sundry

As you can see, I'm now coming up with synonyms for "miscellaneous." 

I apologize, but not every blog posting can have a single, unified theme with cutting-edge insights, like some of my previous posts.  Which ones you ask?  Well, um, um, you know...you know which ones I'm talking about.  I won't insult you by stating the obvious.

The pressure on a small-time blogger is just incredible.  I can't imagine what I'll do when I get ten readers.

Here's one of my favorite pizza places in NYC, Mariella on 17th and 3rd, to grab a slice:

Notice that I said "for a slice?"  An interesting phenomenon uncovered by The LG Report, one which hasn't been reported by the mainstream media -- or even the culinary media -- is that some pizza places, Mariella included, serve an excellent slice, but their whole pies are just so-so. 

Why is this?  Is a slice pie made with a different recipe?  This may eternally remain just one of life's mysteries, but rest assured that The LG Report will continue working on your behalf to get to the bottom of it.  We may need to convene Congressional hearings when they're done with steroids in baseball, the BCS bowl arrangement and other matters of national importance.

I know you've all seen commercials for Snuggies, those wrap-around blanket-robe hybrids. And everyone knows what Ugg boots look like (ugg-ly!)  Could the photo below depict the evil offspring of a Snuggie that mated with an Ugg?

This is a rare photo, like a Loch Ness Monster sighting.  It's somewhat of a scary sight, don't you agree? These things look like Martha Stewart spelunking boots.  The material appears to be either denim, or whatever potholders are made of.  Or possibly someone's old curtains. They certainly have a sturdy rubber soul.  I wouldn't be surprised if these are Air Jordans Home Edition or something.  

You're probably wondering where I got this picture.  Well, I don't want to reveal any confidences, but I snapped the photo while over my friend Dan's house to watch the Citi National Championship football game. Dan and I were the only people present.  And I took the picture.  But I refuse to say whose feet and legs are depicted.  You won't get it out of me, sorry.

I hate to bust anyone for being illogical, especially when they were nice enough to host me for a football game, but whoever is wearing these monstrosities told me that their purpose was to keep their feet warm.  Yet, photographic evidence shows that said person was actually wearing socks, too.  Why would one need feet warmers, on a not-very-cold night, indoors, when they are already wearing socks?  Sounds like someone was trying to make a fashion statement -- without owning up to it.

I would say BUSTED if I weren't so mature.

Let's just move on. 

Here's an LG Report Status Update on a Previous Posting: The McDonald's Corporation has still not contacted me, nor has it issued a press release, to announce the introduction of the Eco-Friendly Meals Initiative that The LG Report recently suggested.  Millions of fry boxes have gone to landfills since the post originally appeared.  It will be interesting to see how long this American corporate behemoth can hold out in the face of mounting pressure from LG Report readers.  We'll keep you updated on developments in this riveting drama.

Finally, Sophie The Blog Dog has been biting bugging me to get her photo posted wearing these ridiculous glasses with the fake nose and moustache.  She said that the nose would look more realistic if it were cold. Whatever.  Anyway, this is what Groucho Marx would look like if he came back as a dog.

Some future LG Report topics:

• American Idol
• A Key West Travel Review
• The MTV Show "The Jersey Shore"
• A NYC Photo Essay
• The Martha Stewart All-Male Audience Super Bowl Show (The LG Report will be in the audience)
• KFC
• Tons of other compelling topics, so keep logging in!

Thanks for reading folks.  Have a great one.