Friday, December 31, 2010
Thursday, December 30, 2010
THE FIGHTER - Gatti v Ward 1 Round 9
The Fighter is an outstanding film. Mark Walberg's portrayal of Micky Ward is the best thing he's done since he was a member of The Funky Bunch. And Christian Bale's portrayal of Ward's crack addicted brother is also pretty impressive. It's the best Bale performance I've seen. Come to think of it, it's the only Bale performance I've seen. Seriously, this flick is worth the ten bucks. And you don’t need to be a boxing fan to appreciate this movie
I did a little YouTube surfing and found some of Ward’s old fights. The Sanchez fight in my last posting was reenacted in the film. The filmmakers didn't need to exaggerate the drama. The actual footage of Ward's fights with Arturo Gatti, who recently passed away, was more exciting than the bloody fights of the Rocky films. Check out this clip. Both of these men had hearts of lions.
Micky Ward vs Alfonso Sanchez Round 7
You can download THE EIGHT-FINGERED CRIMINAL'S SON at Amazon.com for a measly 5 bucks by clicking on this link:
Round seven of the Ward Sanchez fight is dramatized in the new film, The Fighter. By round seven, everybody had counted Micky Ward out – except Micky Ward. This footage proves that boxing is a metaphor for life. Nobody gets to count us out. It’s really not over until we say it’s over. And I don’t know about you guys, but I think I have a vicious kidney shot or two left in my arsenal. I’m in the late rounds so I’m going to need to launch my best punch real soon.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
JOHN WAYNE'S GHOST - Part 1
John Wayne’s Ghost
by William Z Snyder
© 2008 William Snyder
Chandler, Arizona - 2009
1.
Monday, December 6, 2010
Too Hectic to Blog
ARGHHHHHH!
Things are a little too hectic to blog. I'll be back in a couple of weeks...
Things are a little too hectic to blog. I'll be back in a couple of weeks...
Thursday, November 25, 2010
IS STEVE MCQUEEN ALIVE AND CUTTING HAIR IN CHANDLER, ARIZONA? William Z. Snyder Sticks it to the Man - Part 3
Part three? It seems like I banged out part one a heckuva long time ago. Let’s see, there was the attempted haircut at Supercuts. Or was it Great Clips? Doesn’t matter which corporate joint it was, they’re all the same. The employees were rude and nasty.
Part two involved a satisfying fantasy in which I slugged it out with the rude and nasty low level representatives of everything that’s wrong with the corporations of the world.
Part three goes something like this…
The following Saturday, I found myself with a raggedy head of hair and a couple of free hours. It was time to get old school. I got in my car and searched for an old time, mom and pop operated barbershop. I must have driven past a dozen Supercuts, Great Clips, and Super Clips before a spotted an honest to goodness barber shop pole.
It was a small place. There were three barbers and four chairs. The football game was on the television. Two guys were cutting hair. The third barber looked like an old-guy version of Steve McQueen. None of these guys wore eye make-up or metal in their faces.
When the barber asked how he could help me, I fought back the urge to order pastrami on rye, asking instead for a haircut. Come to think of it, the guy sounded a little like Steve McQueen. He took his time, stopping to watch the football game often. I had almost forgotten the pleasure of an old fashioned haircut, complete with hot shaving cream and a straight razor. Yeah, it was a relaxing experience, not a lot of conversation, and that was ok.
I paid up and was on my way. The price was fifteen bucks, three dollars more than at the corporate owned joint. The guy gave me a pretty good hair cut, considering what he was working with. As a matter of fact, it’s the best haircut I’ve had in a long time, well worth the extra three bucks.
I stuck it to the man and you know what? I’m going to keep on sticking it to him! No more soulless, sociopathic corporate owned haircutting joints for this guy.
Oh, there’s one more thing; I distinctly heard one of the other guys call my barber Steve. Makes you wonder…
Part two involved a satisfying fantasy in which I slugged it out with the rude and nasty low level representatives of everything that’s wrong with the corporations of the world.
Part three goes something like this…
The following Saturday, I found myself with a raggedy head of hair and a couple of free hours. It was time to get old school. I got in my car and searched for an old time, mom and pop operated barbershop. I must have driven past a dozen Supercuts, Great Clips, and Super Clips before a spotted an honest to goodness barber shop pole.
It was a small place. There were three barbers and four chairs. The football game was on the television. Two guys were cutting hair. The third barber looked like an old-guy version of Steve McQueen. None of these guys wore eye make-up or metal in their faces.
When the barber asked how he could help me, I fought back the urge to order pastrami on rye, asking instead for a haircut. Come to think of it, the guy sounded a little like Steve McQueen. He took his time, stopping to watch the football game often. I had almost forgotten the pleasure of an old fashioned haircut, complete with hot shaving cream and a straight razor. Yeah, it was a relaxing experience, not a lot of conversation, and that was ok.
I paid up and was on my way. The price was fifteen bucks, three dollars more than at the corporate owned joint. The guy gave me a pretty good hair cut, considering what he was working with. As a matter of fact, it’s the best haircut I’ve had in a long time, well worth the extra three bucks.
I stuck it to the man and you know what? I’m going to keep on sticking it to him! No more soulless, sociopathic corporate owned haircutting joints for this guy.
Oh, there’s one more thing; I distinctly heard one of the other guys call my barber Steve. Makes you wonder…
Sunday, November 14, 2010
WILLIAM Z. SNYDER STICKS IT TO THE MAN - Part 2
...continued from William Z. Snyder Sticks it to the Man - Part 1.
Backing my car out of the parking space, I noticed the Supercuts guy in the window. Would you believe me if I told you he was giving me the stink eye? Well, that’s exactly what the little creep was doing. So I waved him off with the palm of my hand. Believe it or not, the nut job nut raced out from Supercuts and kicked the side of my car with his meticulously shined steel toed Jackboots. Before I had time to react, the kook tore the windshield wiper away from my car.
He was out of his mind. Quite frankly, I’d taken all I could take.
It was on.
Slamming the car into neutral, I threw the door open and sprang from my car, ready to brawl it out with my antagonist.
“I’m not taking any more crap from anybody!” he screamed, winding his boot back to kick.
But I was ready and I wasn’t in any mood to take any crap myself. I caught his foot and sent him crashing onto the sidewalk.
My adrenaline was pumping.
“Get up!” I shouted, waving him toward me.
Someone leapt unto my back and wrapped an arm around my throat.
“Leave Marvin alone, you big galute!” screamed the woman on my back.
Marvin staggered back to his feet and came after me with my windshield wiper. Before he had a chance to swing, I cracked him in the nose with a hard, short right. Marvin dropped back to the sidewalk holding his profusely bleeding nose.
The woman on m back began digging her fingernails into my throat and gnawing on my right ear as two other female Supercuts employees rushed toward me from the front door. Reaching over my shoulder I grabbed the assailant on my back by her blouse, ripped her loose and a launched her into her charging coworkers. They fell like bowling pins.
It was over As Quickly as it had started. Marvin was crying and the girls sat shaking their heads, trying to make sense of the birds and stars.
Placing my hands on hips, I threw my head back and laughed heartily
“How do you like them apples, Supercuts people?”
OK, that’s not really what happened. Guess I got a little carried away at the keyboard. I’d be lying if I told you that somewhere in the darkest recesses of my psyche, I didn’t enjoy fanaticizing about letting loose.
As for the real story of how I stuck it to the man, you’ll have to wait until next week.
Backing my car out of the parking space, I noticed the Supercuts guy in the window. Would you believe me if I told you he was giving me the stink eye? Well, that’s exactly what the little creep was doing. So I waved him off with the palm of my hand. Believe it or not, the nut job nut raced out from Supercuts and kicked the side of my car with his meticulously shined steel toed Jackboots. Before I had time to react, the kook tore the windshield wiper away from my car.
He was out of his mind. Quite frankly, I’d taken all I could take.
It was on.
Slamming the car into neutral, I threw the door open and sprang from my car, ready to brawl it out with my antagonist.
“I’m not taking any more crap from anybody!” he screamed, winding his boot back to kick.
But I was ready and I wasn’t in any mood to take any crap myself. I caught his foot and sent him crashing onto the sidewalk.
My adrenaline was pumping.
“Get up!” I shouted, waving him toward me.
Someone leapt unto my back and wrapped an arm around my throat.
“Leave Marvin alone, you big galute!” screamed the woman on my back.
Marvin staggered back to his feet and came after me with my windshield wiper. Before he had a chance to swing, I cracked him in the nose with a hard, short right. Marvin dropped back to the sidewalk holding his profusely bleeding nose.
The woman on m back began digging her fingernails into my throat and gnawing on my right ear as two other female Supercuts employees rushed toward me from the front door. Reaching over my shoulder I grabbed the assailant on my back by her blouse, ripped her loose and a launched her into her charging coworkers. They fell like bowling pins.
It was over As Quickly as it had started. Marvin was crying and the girls sat shaking their heads, trying to make sense of the birds and stars.
Placing my hands on hips, I threw my head back and laughed heartily
“How do you like them apples, Supercuts people?”
OK, that’s not really what happened. Guess I got a little carried away at the keyboard. I’d be lying if I told you that somewhere in the darkest recesses of my psyche, I didn’t enjoy fanaticizing about letting loose.
As for the real story of how I stuck it to the man, you’ll have to wait until next week.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Sunday, November 7, 2010
WILLIAM Z. SNYDER STICKS IT TO THE MAN - Part 1
For too many years I’ve been supporting the sociopathic corporations of the world by bringing my haircut business to the Supercuts conveniently located less than a mile from my home.
Not anymore, brother.
I’m sticking it to the man, baby.
It all started when I drove down to the local Supercuts for a quick buzz job last Sunday afternoon. Stepping through the door I was not greeted by a swooshy thirty-something hair stylist hairstylist with a whole lot of eye makeup and a half-dozen pieces of metal sticking out of his face. Three hairstylists were snipping away on their customers. Mister second rate Marilyn Manson finished sweeping up a pile of hair before casually strutting up to the counter.
“Can I help you?” he said, avoiding any semblance of eye contact and making it clear that helping me was the last thing he wanted to do.
“Can I get a tuna fish sandwich?”
This is my stock line for the ever changing array Supercuts employees who consistently ask me that ridiculous question.
“Right. We’re closed. We close at three, I’m sorry.
“Right,” I said turning and heading back to the car.
I really didn’t want that guy cutting my hair anyway. Inside the car, I turned the ignition key and the clock read 2:58. That’s when it hit me. It was time to find a new joint to cut my hair. Over the thirteen years I’d been frequenting the corner Supercuts, I’d received a few bad haircuts and a lot of mediocre haircuts, but they had only cut my hair the way I wanted twice. I usually shrugged and reminded myself that the difference between a bad haircut and a good haircut is about two weeks.
2:58.
I was tired of being pushed around by soulless corporations. Soulless corporations wear different faces too. On this particular day they wore the face of a thirty five year-old weirdo with eye makeup and a whole mess of metal stuck too his face who didn’t even bother to give up a courtesy laugh for my tuna fish sandwich line.
To be continued…
Not anymore, brother.
I’m sticking it to the man, baby.
It all started when I drove down to the local Supercuts for a quick buzz job last Sunday afternoon. Stepping through the door I was not greeted by a swooshy thirty-something hair stylist hairstylist with a whole lot of eye makeup and a half-dozen pieces of metal sticking out of his face. Three hairstylists were snipping away on their customers. Mister second rate Marilyn Manson finished sweeping up a pile of hair before casually strutting up to the counter.
“Can I help you?” he said, avoiding any semblance of eye contact and making it clear that helping me was the last thing he wanted to do.
“Can I get a tuna fish sandwich?”
This is my stock line for the ever changing array Supercuts employees who consistently ask me that ridiculous question.
“Right. We’re closed. We close at three, I’m sorry.
“Right,” I said turning and heading back to the car.
I really didn’t want that guy cutting my hair anyway. Inside the car, I turned the ignition key and the clock read 2:58. That’s when it hit me. It was time to find a new joint to cut my hair. Over the thirteen years I’d been frequenting the corner Supercuts, I’d received a few bad haircuts and a lot of mediocre haircuts, but they had only cut my hair the way I wanted twice. I usually shrugged and reminded myself that the difference between a bad haircut and a good haircut is about two weeks.
2:58.
I was tired of being pushed around by soulless corporations. Soulless corporations wear different faces too. On this particular day they wore the face of a thirty five year-old weirdo with eye makeup and a whole mess of metal stuck too his face who didn’t even bother to give up a courtesy laugh for my tuna fish sandwich line.
To be continued…
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Snyder Comics/Soaring Swine #24
WHO AMONGST US HAS NOT ASKED THIS PRESSING HISTORICAL QUESTION?
Bad Joke of the week:
What kind of hot dogs should be eaten on Halloween?
Halloweenies
I stole this bad joke from an episode of Happy Days.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Griggits
Friday, October 15, 2010
CRAPULOUS
Today’s secret word is crapulous. I came across the word while reading George Bernard Shaw’s introduction to his 1924 play, Saint Joan.
Shaw writes about Joan’s execution stating “… this result could have been produced by a crapulous inferiority as well as by a sublime superiority, the question of which of the two was operative in Joan’s case has to be faced.”
Crapulous. Nifty word, huh. And I can’t say I can recall crossing paths with crapulous. Initially I thought it was somehow connected to Thomas Crapper of flushing toilet fame. If I had had paid attention to my instruction on Greek roots, I would have known the word is a descendent of “kraipalē,” meaning the giddiness and headache caused by drinking wine to excess.
To the point, our secret word of the day may defined as surcharged with liquor; alcoholism; sick from excessive indulgence in drinking or eating; drunk; given to excesses.
Shaw writes about Joan’s execution stating “… this result could have been produced by a crapulous inferiority as well as by a sublime superiority, the question of which of the two was operative in Joan’s case has to be faced.”
Crapulous. Nifty word, huh. And I can’t say I can recall crossing paths with crapulous. Initially I thought it was somehow connected to Thomas Crapper of flushing toilet fame. If I had had paid attention to my instruction on Greek roots, I would have known the word is a descendent of “kraipalē,” meaning the giddiness and headache caused by drinking wine to excess.
To the point, our secret word of the day may defined as surcharged with liquor; alcoholism; sick from excessive indulgence in drinking or eating; drunk; given to excesses.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Soaring Swine #23 and the Latest News on THE EIGHT FINGERED CRIMINAL'S SON
Snyder Comics
The bad news is the release date is going to be pushed back a couple of months. This is due to the fact that I used my book dough to put a rebuilt transmission for my car. The good news is the guys at Chandler Auto and Tire have agreed to hawk my book. This brings the grand total of venues prepared to carry The Eight Fingered Criminal's Son to six.
Chandler Auto and Tire - Chandler, Arizona
Tempe Auto Repair - Tempe, Arizona
Second Use Building Materials - Seattle, Washington
Island Style Kitchen Design - Maui, Hawaii
Lakeside Sporting Goods - Beaver Island, Michigan
Geli Books - Bangkok, Thailand
Chandler Auto and Tire - Chandler, Arizona
Tempe Auto Repair - Tempe, Arizona
Second Use Building Materials - Seattle, Washington
Island Style Kitchen Design - Maui, Hawaii
Lakeside Sporting Goods - Beaver Island, Michigan
Geli Books - Bangkok, Thailand
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Sunday, September 19, 2010
wheN piGs flY #21
snydertOOns 2010
I haven't had much time to work on the book. Teaching is hard. I've been busting my tail to keep ahead. Some teachers bust their tails to keep a foot, or an arm or a neck, but not me.
The editing process is under way and I'm meeting with a graphic designer to discuss the cover this week.
The Eight Fingered Criminal's Son is on schedule to be released in November. The book will be available at the auto repair shop in Arizona, the lake sports store in Michigan, the kitchen design studio in Hawaii, the junk yard in Washington, and that book store in Thailand.
Bad Joke of the Week
A sasquatch was pulling his son in a sled across the Himilayas. After three hours the boy said to his father, "Are we there, Yeti?"
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