The never-ending pandemic. Monkeypox. Inflation. Partisan politics. Those are enough to turn the cheeriest optimist into a grump. But now comes the ultimate summer bummer:
No one is more disappointed than this guy:
The article got me to thinking…
who would win a Hairy Chest Contest on The Love Boat?
(Yes, I’m aware that the Pacific Princess was part of Princess Cruises, not Carnival… but I’m not going to let the facts get in the way of a fun post.)
Rules of the game:
Staff isn’t eligible (sorry Doc, Isaac, Gopher and Captain Stubing).
Hairiest Chest wins.
Then, I combed (see what I did there?) through the list of Love Boat guest stars, from A to Z… or more accurately, from Aames to Zmed.
I actually checked not one, but two lists (my diligence in researching cheesy 70s TV knows no bounds – you’re welcome!). There’s the list of guest stars on IMDB – 552 names in all! But this site has a more exhaustive list as it includes every person billed as a guest star (meaning they got the “your face in a porthole” treatment in the opening credits).
Place your bets
This guy was the epitome of “clean cut” on F-Troop, Mayberry RFD and in pretty much every other role he played. No chance.
A swarthy man’s man and a real-life friend of George “Goober” Lindsey. Also starred in a TV show with “wolf” in the title (Airwolf). Definitely a contender.
Does the “C” in “Mr. C” stand for “chest hair”? Only Marion knows for sure.
Had a perfect 70s hairdo… but we think his chest was a hair-don’t.
Based on his past performance (hairy legs in pantyhose), he looks primed to M*A*S*H the competition.
Might not have what it takes when the CHiPs are down and the shirts are off.
Probably Knott the best bet, but was a Furley down the stretch.
Al Molinaro and Pat Morita
Entry featuring both owners of Arnold’s could be a threat, but Morita might give his chest hair a “wax off.”
Russell shows hustle, but his chest ain’t the best.
Not a legit entry, but by law every Love Boat-related document must contain at least one reference to her.
Dark Horse candidate
During my deep-dive (ha!) research, I found this photo:
I guest a post-Grizzly Adams (but pre-cocaine bust) Dan Haggerty didn’t merit the porthole treatment. But the dude went toe-to-toe and pelt-to-pelt with a bear. Definitely a favorite to win it all.
And the winner is…
The winner, by a whisker, in the mother of all upsets, is:
Wow, from perpetual Hollywood Square to the toast of the coast… congrats!
Well, that certainly was exciting, wasn’t it? I’m parched from my exhaustive research, so if you’ll excuse me, I need to get a Piña Colada from the hardest working bartender in show business (he worked the Lido Deck AND Pirate’s Cove… amazing!)
It’s filled with fun facts and funny photos. In short, it’s as fabulous as Nanette Fabray AND Shelley Fabares. Then, curl up with some popcorn and feast your eyes upon this supercut of every Love Boat guest star ever. Both the list of guest stars and this video are from the blog Gr8er Days, which celebrates the stars of yesteryear.
I’m late to the game on this podcast (sorry, I lead a sheltered life), but Valley Heat is the funniest thing I’ve heard in a long time.
It’s like A Confederacy of Dunces meets Arrested Development meets Fernwood 2 Night…. Doug’s deadpan delivery, a wacky cast of characters, fun music references, the bogus promo spots, and great theater-of-the-mind audio all combine to create a perfect storm of humor. Every element is note-perfect!
It’s a bit tough to explain because the folks responsible for the podcast have created a whole wacky world within a Burbank, California neighborhood. Tosthe protagonist, Doug, ostensibly is trying to crack the case of who is using his garbage can as a drug drop. But really that’s just a doorway to all sorts of shenanigans involving an accident-prone attorney, a house that’s also a nightclub/arcade/pizza parlor/car wash, a mean father-in-law (who also runs a muffler empire), a DEA agent who does stakeouts with his mom, legendary frisbee golf players, mean foosball players, Jan that Movie (listen to learn), and a weaselly optometrist. Speaking of which, here’s Doug talking about his teenage son, who was prescribed transition lenses:
Or my buddy Howard:
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to have some Jannie Cakes for breakfast…
Jon Batiste took home a fistful of Grammys a couple of weeks ago, including the highly coveted Album of the Year award for We Are.
In that moment, it would’ve been very easy for him to thump his chest. Instead he opened his heart.
So classy, so gracious, so humble… and he spoke the truth. We don’t find music so much as music finds us… when we need it the most.
I loved his parting words: “Be you!”
We each have our own path, our own craft. Work at it every day. You may not make the Grammy stage, but you come out a winner in the game of life.
I listened to Jon Batiste on the Broken Record podcast a few weeks ago and was really blown away by his heart, and his wisdom, and his love. Check it out at the bottom of this post- it’s mandatory listening.
In the interview, Jon Batiste makes it clear that he didn’t get to where he is on his own. He talked about his mentors. Their role is crucial.
One of Jon Batiste’s mentors was his father, who urged him to “tell the truth.”
Another was his cousin Alvin Batiste, a legendary New Orleans jazz musician. Alvin pushed Jon out of his comfort zone, and it made him better at his craft:
Your ability, your talent, the innate thing that you have within you… can be applied to anything. It doesn’t just have to fit the thing that you know you’re capable of doing today…. that’s why I don’t believe in limitations of genre or limitations of creativity in any way.
Sometimes the highest hurdles are the limits we impose on ourselves. Congrats to Jon Batiste on his Grammy success. And congrats to YOU on your continued success in whatever path you choose.
Here’s Jon Batiste’s full interview on the Broken Record podcast:
OK, I’d better pump the brakes on that superlative. In all honesty and modesty, Cary and I are the best. Oh sure, we were in the 3.0 bracket at the local pickleball tournament this weekend….and that’s the lowest possible level. But that makes us the best of the worst, right? Besides, we tried to get into the higher 3.5 bracket, but it was full. So we weren’t really sandbagging too much… more like sand-pouching.
We were rookies – it was our first tourney. But it’s kinda hard to call us “rookies” when we have a combined 132 years of living under our (Sansa)belts. We’re a mirror image team: I’m 57 and Cary’s 75.
There were 12 teams in our bracket, split into two six-team pools for round-robin play. The top two teams from each pool advanced to the “medal round.” Cary and I won our first five matches before losing to two young whippersnappers 15-9. But our record was good enough to get us to the next round, where we knocked off the #1 team from the other pool, then had a rematch against the whippersnappers… and WE won, 15-9!
I’m such an anti-competitive dude that my first thought was that the whippersnappers got screwed.. (Actually, that was my second thought – my first thought was “holy schnikes, I can’t believe we won!”) We both had the same record, and we split our head-to-head matches by identical scores. But we won when all money was on the line (the whopping $30 gift certificate!).
This isn’t really a pickleball story, though. Cary’s originally from Cadiz, Ohio, a coal-mining town in Eastern Ohio (near scenic Steubenville!). His dad worked for the coal company, and Cary’s first job was at the mines. But he was a pretty good baseball player. In high school, he played against future major league star Thurman Munson, future NFL receiver Danny Abramowicz, and longtime MLB coach Rich Donnelly. Cary got a baseball scholarship to Bowling Green State University, in western Ohio, and, in his own words, “it changed my life.”
Cary was able to escape the inexorable future of most of his classmates — a life of back-breaking, unforgiving labor in the coal mines — and get a college degree. He wound up working with “big data” and teaching statistics classes – 20 years at Bowling Green and 20 more at the University of Cincinnati. He met his wife in his first year of working for BGSU, when she was a student there and working as a waitress. They have a son and daughter-in-law and two grandsons who live in Indy. Cary volunteers at a local YMCA, teaching pickleball to beginners.
The Harvards and Stanfords get all the prestige of higher education. But let’s not discount the role of the “mid-major” state schools that offer scholarships and semi-affordable tuition to first-generation college students. They are changing life trajectories… and therefore changing the world.
I’ve learned quite a bit about Cary, and if it weren’t for pickleball, he’d be just another face in the crowd…. some random old dude. Yes, I’ve heard all the “pickleball is for old people” jokes. But the older folks I’ve met through the sport are great people, with interesting stories to tell. Maybe you should try pickleball. Or maybe you can just spend a bit more time with some seniors, and get to know their stories. You just might learn something.
Cary’s a good dude who also happens to be a pretty darn good pickleball player. If I’m lucky enough to reach the age of 75, I hope folks say the same thing about me.
Sorry for the extra helping of sports posts, but I can’t help myself. The scrappy, tough kids from St. Peter’s University in Jersey-freakin-City just knocked off Purdue last night to make their way to the NCAA Elite Eight. The Peacocks (yes, that’s the mascot) are the first #15 seed to make it this far.
The team’s tiny home gymnasium, on their puny campus, is called “Run Baby Run Arena.” And yesterday was “National Peacock Day.” You can’t make stuff like that up.
Guard Doug Edert has become the toast of the tourney due to his stellar play AND his cheesy mustache.
The Peacocks coach, Shaheen Holloway, has impressed everyone with his strategic savvy and his cool demeanor.
It’s thrilling. It’s magical. It’s Madness!
That’s the heartwarming part of the story. But here’s a bucket of cold water: Shaheen Holloway will be gone shortly after the “Run Baby Run” run is over.
Holloway was a point guard for Seton Hall back in the late 90s. Seton Hall’s coach, Kevin Willard, just left the Garden State for the greener pasture$ of the University of Maryland. And, in a move that was ill-advised, poorly-timed and downright stupid, Willard practically anointed Holloway as his successor even though St. Peter’s was still in the tourney:
So if Kevin Willard’s happiness is high on your wish list, congrats! But for the rest of America (i.e. those not named “Kevin Willard”)… and especially for the kids who are playing their hearts out for St. Peter’s University right now, and the entire school and all of its alums, it stinks. They’re having the time of their lives… but they know it’ll be over soon.
Kevin Willard’s base salary at Seton Hall was $2.5 million. Shaheen Holloway made $266,344 in 2019. You certainly can’t fault a guy for leaving for a job at his alma mater, in a much better conference, on a much bigger stage, for 10X what he makes now. We’re happy for Holloway, but it gives this Cinderella story an unhappy ending for the Peacocks.