Archive: August, 2012
The Democrats can surely stage a spectacle in Charlotte as dazzling as the Republicans presented in Tampa.
Although they can't cast Clint Eastwood -- which is a good thing -- the Dems can claim a bigger, brighter celebrity galaxy. Who needs Jon Voight when you've got Angelina Jolie?
Being able to summon Barbara Streisand is essential for a party whose bench lacks the marquee appeal of Nikki Haley, Marco Rubio or even Chris Christie, his bomb-bastic convention keynote speech aside.
Forget the boyish vocal tics and the surprising lack of heft in the voice itself.
Paul Ryan delivered a powerhouse speech to the GOP national convention Wednesday.
Set aside the abundance of whoppers in the text.
The national launch of Chris Christie's presidential campaign got swamped in Tampa on Tuesday by a hurricane named Ann.
To use one of the overused phrases in Christie's convention keynoter, the "hard truth" is that Mrs. Romney's fresh air was a tough act for the New Jersey governor's familiar bluster to follow.
She seemed down-to-earth, engaging, and believable; he looked like he was trying too hard. Chris wanted to rock, but Ann ruled.
Emergency call boxes are in trouble.
The South Jersey Transportation Authority (SJTA) has announced it will begin removing the devices from the Atlantic City Expressway today.
Installed in 1967 and upgraded in the 1980s, the call box system is obsolete, authority officials say.
The only hotel still standing in Camden may soon be history.
The city is considering a demolition request from the owners of the Plaza at 5th and Cooper streets, the Courier-Post reports.
Variously known as the Plaza Club Hotel, the Hotel Plaza, the Plaza Hotel and the Plaza Motor Hotel, the hostelry opened in 1927, two years after the Walt Whitman Hotel opened at Broadway and Cooper. That much larger facility was imploded in the late 1970s, but the Plaza hung on until 1985.
When I first heard Scott McKenzie’s “San Francisco,” I was 13 and desperate to be groovy -- a status not readily attainable amid the rustic rolling hills of western Massachusetts.
But even via the tiny, tinny speaker of my precious transistor radio, the mod and moody voice of McKenzie (who died Saturday) seemed to promise the possibility. And well before the tune supposedly became the "soundtrack of a generation," as the obituaries would have it, "San Francisco" was the anthem of my eighth-grade graduation party, at which at least one couple smooched in the corner -- just like hippies!
Of course we all know by now that the "gentle people with flowers in their hair" about whom John Phillips wrote, and McKenzie sang, were as much a fantasy as my adolescent yearnings. He never had another hit, unless you count the Beach Boys' "Kokomo," which he co-wrote, and upon his death at 73 he left no immediate survivors.
Now showing on the Onion's A.V. Club, YouTube and the rocker/actor's website, the high-octane clip was shot during a single June weekend in Maple Shade, Cherry Hill and other locations. I wrote about the shoot in my June 10 column; director Shawn Caple's company, From Start to Film, is based in Franklinville, Gloucester County.
"I'm extremely proud and happy with the way the entire thing went, and how it turned out," says Caple, 27. "To have Andrew give his seal on it is super-awesome."
As Friday’s downpour sputtered out at last, I stepped outside the Inquirer’s office in Cherry Hill and was startled by the sight of a Canada goose.
He was walking, weaving and head-bobbing in the signature way of all geese.
But he was all alone.
To people unfamiliar with addiction, Garrett Reid’s apparent relapse may seem inexplicable, as well as heartbreaking.
The oldest son of Eagles coach Andy Reid died Sunday after what looked like a solid run of clean-and-sober. But how long Garrett managed to stay off heroin isn’t the point, because, like alcoholics, addicts are never cured.
Personal commitment, faith, 12-Step programs and the support of loved ones surely make recovery possible for millions, even as the possibility of relapse endures. Forever.
If resolving disputes were as simple as eating – or not eating – a spicy chicken sandwich, we could take all our disagreements to the food court.
But in the real world, the prospect of breaking bread with adversaries loses its luster in light of the ferocity emanating from what newspaper columnists/bloggers typically call “both sides.”