'No Ma'am, You're Not Old'

I judge the level of a party by the host’s willingness to offer cocktail weenies at the hors d’oeuvres table. Using that as a measuring stick, Dan May really knows how to throw a shindig.
May, the Philadelphia singer-songwriter extraordinaire, had a CD release party last weekend at Plays and Players Theater in the city to promote his fourth CD, “Dying Breed.” It’s yet another brilliant piece of work by Dan and his band mates, who performed several cuts from the album at a show prior to everybody bellying up to the buffet table at the after party.



There are a lot of things to like about Dan — the songwriting, the singing, the sense of humor. Lead guitarist and vocalist Tom Hampton seems to be cut from the same cloth, and it shows in the music.
As we were about to take our leave from the party Saturday night, Tom was engaged in a conversation with two other people, and the three of them happened to be blocking the path to our exit. The Blonde Accountant said, “Excuse me” as she made her way past the trio, and Tom countered with, “Sure, ma’am.”
A seemingly innocent enough exchange. But as soon as we were out of earshot, she turned to me and said, “I’m not old enough to be called ma’am. How old does Tom think I am? He’s probably the same age as me.”
The reality of it is that I am old and The Blonde Accountant is eight years my junior, which I believe makes it alright for Tom to call me “ma’am” the next time he sees me. I would (29) never think of (29) revealing my wife’s age (29) in print and (29) if I did, I would (29) make sure (29) to emphasize that it (29) doesn’t change (29) from year to year.
The next day, I went to Dan’s Facebook page and posted the following comment about the party: “I, for one, certainly appreciated that cocktail weenies were included in the after party buffet table. But thanks to Tom Hampton calling my wife ‘ma’am’ I had to hear all . . . the . . . way . . . home that she wasn’t old.”
Dan’s response: “Tom is a southern gentleman, he calls women ‘ma’am.’ Tell The Blonde Accountant she’s still got it going on. In fact, people at the party that saw the two of you together were commenting on how Mike Morsch was robbing the cradle.”
Dan is a playful purveyor of hooey, so that’s pretty funny, considering that nobody at that party besides Dan knew who I was.
Once again, Tom wasn’t too far behind with his comment: “Mike, if it makes you feel better, I also call Dan ‘ma’am’ more often than not.”
The Blonde Accountant was having none of what they were peddling. I suggested to Dan and Tom that they only way they could get back into her good graces would be to write her a song. We shall see where that leads, although Dan has already admitted to having trouble rhyming “accountant.”
I would suggest a working title of “No Ma’am, You’re Not Old.”

Ballparks and recreation

Big baseball weekend at our house, which isn’t too much out of the ordinary, really.
Leading off was a college tilt as St. Joseph’s took on Temple in a twinbill Saturday afternoon at Skip Wilson Field on the Temple Ambler campus. It was the first time I had gotten to enjoy a game at that particular field and it’s a pretty nice college ballyard.
This matchup was of particular interest because Father of Blonde Accountant and The Blonde Accountant are both St. Joe’s grads and Pop Pop pitched for the Hawks back in his day. I have no allegiance to either team, but I do enjoy watching college baseball when I get the chance. The accompanying video shows some of those sites and sounds.



St. Joe’s took both games from the Owls, although we could only stay for the first game. Son of Blonde Accountant had his regular season CYO finale back in Montgomeryville so we headed back for that. Tough day for the youngster as he took the collar and his team lost. But the rain held off until after all baseball was done for the day, so that was good.
On Sunday, Son of Blonde Accountant and I took in the Reading Phillies. We got to see some of the young Phillies prospects — like pitchers J.C. Ramirez and Phillippe Aumont, first baseman Matt Rizzotti and shortstop Freddy Galvis — and the rain held off long enough for the home team to secure a victory.
One of the many wonderful things about baseball is the terminology, of which we heard plenty over the weekend, mostly during the college game.
For example, the following phrases can usually only be heard on the ballfield:
— “Lotta hop!” — It means, “Stay aggressive, show a lot of enthusiasm.”
— “Right man, right now” — Refers to having the best hitter at the plate with runners in scoring position able to get a clutch hit and drive in the runs.
— “Hum, baby!” — Usually what is said to a pitcher, as in “Hum that pitch in there” or “throw it hard.”
Then of course, there is the umpire bating. Umpiring at the college level in particular is challenging and one must have a thick skin. There is a lot of chirping going on from the benches. Among my favorite lines over the years tossed at umpires:
— “Hey, poke a hole in that mask!”
— “Hey ump, shake your head, your eyes are stuck!”
When I played, my dad didn’t get after the umpires too much — and neither did I — because we understood that umpires don’t win or lose ballgames. But when Pop did feel the need to sound off, he was relatively nice about it.
“Wake up ump, you’re missing a good game!”
One of my alternative activities over the weekend was to go shopping with The Blonde Accountant for a new kitchen faucet. Although that still has to happen, I believe this weekend qualified as an example of another common phrase: “Can’t beat fun at the old ballpark.”

Miller time at The Keswick

Dennis Miller wasn’t as tall as I thought he would be. But he’s got a great smile and laugh, and he seemed genuinely flattered that people wanted to meet him and get a picture taken with him last week prior to his show at the Keswick Theater.
I was fortunate to be among a group of about 20 people who got the opportunity to shake Miller’s hand that evening. He introduced himself to each person individually with a “Hi, I’m Dennis,” almost like we didn’t know who he was.



There was some brief backstage banter before Miller suggested we all go out on stage and take the pictures, with the Keswick seats steadily filling about 15 minutes before show time serving as the backdrop.
Unfortunately, the pre-show stage lighting — a kind of a dark blue — played havoc with my photos and they all came out with a dark blue tint, making the images almost indistinguishable, even when using a flash. I wonder if any of the other folks with cameras had the same problem.
As for the show, I didn’t laugh as much as I would have liked, but not because Miller wasn’t funny. Between watching his last HBO special and the phone call interview I had with him to preview the appearance, much of it was repeat information.
In fact, at the end of the interview, I had asked him what the Keswick crowd could expect at a Dennis Miller show. “This phone call for about an hour,” he said.
And that’s what it turned out to be. One can’t quibble that Dennis Miller didn’t deliver the kind of show that he had promised to deliver.
One other observation: Political humor is a tough gig right now, given the polarization in our country. I grew up with the humor of George Carlin, who I thought was both funny and brilliant. But in the latter part of his career, Carlin became more political and more anti-government, anti-religion and just about anti-everything. And it just wasn’t as funny as his other stuff.
Miller strikes me as being on a similar path. His stories about taking his mother to meet Frank Sinatra, the shenanigans during his stint as a Monday Nigh Football commentator and the craziness that was the early days of Saturday Night Live were all enjoyable and funny bits. The political stuff, not so much.
Maybe the comedians haven’t changed over the years. Maybe it’s the politics that just isn’t funny anymore.