Letters to Parade: Maybe Ernest Borgnine Would Like To Fuck Mandy Moore?

Here is a brief list of things I pondered this week:

1. Why do people with small children find it imperative to tell you that you're making their parenting difficult? For instance, at my local supermarket yesterday the following conversation occurred:

Me (speaking to the guy making my sandwich, the context is irrelevant, I assure you): ...the only other person with your skill set is a serial killer!

Man with small child: [Glares at me]

I walk off and finish the rest of my shopping and get in line. The man with the child saddles up behind me.

Man: You shouldn't say "serial killer" in front of a kid.

Me: Pardon me?

Man: You called that guy a serial killer or whatever when I was standing there with my son. [Who, it should be noted, was standing right next to his father now as well] That was inappropriate.

Me: Really.

Man: Yes. Because now I have to explain to my child what a serial killer is.

Me: And that's my fault?

Man: You should consider who might be listening.

2. Is it wrong that I am obsessed with that "Hey There Delilah" song and now have five different versions of it on my portable mp3 device?

3.  Why, if you wanted to kill yourself because of the dawning of an awful illness, would you do so it in such a way as to make life awful for the family members who found you?

4. Why do students who've agreed with me on everything I've had to say about all of their classmates' work suddenly believe I am completely incapable of understanding their work?

5.  Why do I always think this time of year that the Raiders have any fucking chance? For instance, this is a conversation I had last night while watching the Raiders exhibition game:

Wendy: How's the game?

Me: Good. Raiders are looking solid. I think this is the year they turn it all around.

Wendy: Didn't you say that last year? Didn't they go undefeated in the pre-season?

Me: Yeah, well, but even then I was pretty sure it was just, like, schemes and stuff that were wrong. Personnel was tits. Bad coaching trumps that shit every time.

Wendy: When was the las time the Raiders were good?

Me: Look, when you're Raider down, you're Raider down. Good or bad is not an issue.

Wendy:

Me: Silver and black attack, baby. That's how I've rolled since the womb.

Wendy:

Me: I've already played the whole season on Madden and went undefeated, so, yeah. The quarterback must go down and must go down hard!

Wendy:

Me: Anyway. I'm saying 12-4, 13-3, something like that.

Wendy:

Me: Now, granted, they haven't won that many games combined in the last three years, but, you know, just win, baby and all that.

Wendy: You're an idiot.

6. Why, at age 36, am I suddenly developing health problems I've made fun of other people for?

7. Why can't the fucktards at the car wash ever get the fucking ketchup off of the steering wheel?

8. Why does our new puppy piss on the floor right after I've said to Wendy, "You know, I think Scout has finally got a handle on the whole pissing outside business."

9.  How come no one ever mentions to me how much, as a teenager, I resembled the poor fucker who gets screwed over in The Last American Virgin and, more over, why doesn't anyone ever talk about how fucking sad The Last American Virgin was? To whit:

10. When is The Wire coming back?

At no point during my week did my mind ever once pause on Ernest Borgnine or Mandy Moore. And supposing my mind did happen to pause on either very talented performer, at no point would I then think to write a letter to Parade magazine to help me illuminate whatever thoughts I might have had...which is what makes me different from a family of fucktards, Jerry and Linda Bebault of Albuquerque,NM, and the wisely anonymous Ramona R. of San Diego, CA. The Bebaults -- not to be confused with the Debolts -- have long fantasized about what it might be like to share a life with Ernest Borgnine and thus wrote to Walter Scott to see if he might provide the hook-up:

One of our favorite actors is Ernest Borgnine. What's he up to these days?

If I were a cynical man, I might suggest that Ernest was just happy to be respirating still and spent his days watching the newswire to see if three celebrities had already died, just to make sure he wasn't next in line. I might say he was "up to" about five feet under, just waiting for the final foot. But as it turns out, Ernest is very active despite being 139 years old:

Borgnine turned 90 this year, wrapped A Grandpa for Christmas for the Hallmark Channel, to air in December, and finished his autobiography, due out next year. He and wife No.5 Tova (they've been married 34 years) still live in the Beverly Hills house Borgnine bought in 1965.

Isn't that sweet. Jerry, Linda, Ernest is alive and well and eagerly awaits word from you. More interesting, however, is the total darkness that surround Mandy Moore, who, according to Walter Scott, better find herself a man, even if he's mean, as Ramona asked:

What explains Mandy Moore's failed relationships with so many guys -- actors Zach Braff and WIlmer Valderama, tennis ace Andy Roddick and disc jockey DJ AM?

Oh, I dunno, Ramona -- maybe because she's 23. You know what I was doing when I was 23? I was working at Ruby's Diner. I wore a bow tie to work. I'd get drunk in the parking lot with Vitaly and Todd and Brian and whatever scary cook happened out there after work and didn't want to knife us. Sometimes, I drank a 40 of Crazyhorse because it made me want to fight. I was a student at CSUN. I was the Lord of the Frat Boys. For some reason, I wore a lot of construction boots and vests. Every t-shirt I owned said Sigma Phi Epsilon on it. Prior to meeting Wendy, who I met towards the end of my 23rd year, I dated a woman who had toe rings and an ankle bracelet, and those were her redeeming qualities. I drove a Tercel. Sometimes I'd watch Spice for hours on end with other men. I knew a guy named Neenous. My roommates robbed a bank. Because, you see, being 23 means never having to say you're sorry for being an abject failure in several different arenas. But Walter Scott, who never met a woman who didn't need a man behind her to succeed, believes differently:

"Some guys suck," says Mandy, 23, "and I've come across a few." With that attitude, she's in for more disappointments. Her latest beau is singer Greg Laswell, 33.

I've got news for you, Walter: Some guys do suck and I'd be willing to bet a fair share of them happen to be famous actors, athletes and club DJs. She good do worse, I suppose: She could hook up with someone who writes biographies of dead Kennedys...

Comments

[Bryon Quertermous]

Unfortunately the Raiders season is going to get off to a bad start because they're going to lose their first game against the Lions. It's probably the only game we'll win this year so we have to do it.

[whit]

Re #3: I'm guessing the quick answer is "Second prize is a set of steak knives."

Also, much like the user, it's appropriately inappropriate.

I like to think that, like a similar situation in my experience, there was a locked door with a note to call the police and not come in. But I don't know how many would follow those directions.

[Josh Ellis]

My holy fuck, Goldberg, did you edit together that montage of THE LAST AMERICAN VIRGIN yourself? I have a sneaking suspicion that you did. Also, it's "to wit:", not "to whit:", you English teacher, you.

(My friend saw Plain White Tees years ago, when they wanted to be the Ramones. He said you could sing "Beat On The Brat" to all their songs. We hates the Plain White Tees. Hates them forever.)

[Carey Rossi]

Tod, You should have posted the banned version of our PSHS yearbook. You know, the one that seems to come up in every radio interview you do.

And as always, I agree with Wendy when it comes to you and the Raiders. Never took you for a member of the Raider Nation.

[linda woods]

It must be genetic because I, too, am obsessed with the Delilah song. Or I WAS until I saw the lame, migraine-inducing video which totally ruins the song for me.

[Danny Barer]

Re: #2 -- I confess a certain attraction to the "Hey There Delilah" song myself. But as one who savors the adroit use of the English language, can you tolerate lyrics like, "Deeper in love with me you'd fall/We'd have it all"?

[tod goldberg]

I wish I'd spliced that video, Josh, because that would mean I owned a copy of the Last American Virgin which, in my mind, is an excellent movie (and one I apparently starred in as well), but alas, no. Someone else did the dirty work.

The surprising thing I found while looking up information on the last american virgin the other day, after some friends and I were discussing it, is that the guy who gets the girl in the end also was Jessie in the Jessie's Girl video and, later, was David Geffen's boyfriend, which makes this all the more fucked up for the kid in Las American Virgin -- pay for the abortion and lose the girl to a guy who doesn't even like women.

[tod goldberg]

It's sort of like Yoda singing a love song, Danny. You allow the oddness for the genius...

[erin]

If having twelve different versions of Clocks (two that feature Biggie Smalls and one that features Simon Cowell) is wrong, I don't ever want to be right.

[Richard]

When a little kid hears "serial killer," he should be told it is someone who hates eating his cereal for breakfast and so starts destroying the box full of Cheerios or shredded wheat or whatever cardboardy processed starch the parents force the kid to eat.

Trust me: little kids hear the word "serial," they think "cereal."

[Richard]

And in any context other than "serial killer," even college undergraduates think "cereal."

Try mentioning "serial monogamy" or "serial publication" to your students and see.

[Tanya Mravik]

I have a vast collection of true crime books in my home. Serial killers are my topic of interest. What kind of f***ed up kids am I going to have when I do eventually find Mr. Right?

Speaking of Mr. Right, I hate to break it to Ms. Moore and all the other ladies out there, but there are lots of guys who suck. I'm 36 and have met several women's share of them. What keeps me going on? The thought that it only takes one good guy...

[Lou Hullabuloo]

Chance of Raiders making playoffs in 2008 = chance of M. Vick receivng the "Breeder of the Year" award from the American Kennel Society.

[David J. Montgomery]

Too damn funny.

And so pleased to hear the Ernest Borgnine is still alive!

[David J. Montgomery]

p.s. The Silver and Black rule.

[Dave Ryder]

Whoa - no mention of Mermaid Man? What a bunch of fucking losers, I mean talk about the pinnacle of a career....

Mermaid Man

[lita]

FYI, I'm hosting a booksigning with Ernest Borgnine at Borders West Hollywood on Tuesday, July 29 at 7pm. Hoping you'll be in LA and able to attend.