Tag Archives: Key & Peele

A funeral unlike any other makes me feel mortal. Key & Peele rap Ali vs. Jordan. And why can’t Hollywood get Wonder Woman right?


Been to a lot of funerals in my life, like most people in their late 30s have. Sometimes the routine can all seem familiar: The families dressed in black, the rabbi or funeral home director giving a well-meaning but bland speech, and lots of happy memories recalled about the deceased through the tears.

Tuesday was different. Tuesday, I went to a funeral for a person younger than me for the first time.

He was 34 years old, stricken with cancer when he was in his 20s, cancer that came back with a vengeance about six months ago. I don’t want to name him or give too many details about his life, out of respect, but suffice to say that though I didn’t know him well, what I did know is he was a terrific man, a loving husband, and a doting father on his toddler son.

Funerals don’t usually get to me this much, but when someone younger than you has died, it feels different. You look in the mirror and look older; feel older. You start to think about turning 40, and turning 50, and what have I accomplished in my life, and how could we all be here at a funeral for a person who wasn’t even old enough to be elected President yet?

I hardly ever think about death; I’m the most optimistic person I know, and maybe once a year I think about mortality and what lies afterward.

But as a multitude of eulogists made their way to the microphone to talk about the deceased, it seemed like everyone in the audience had much the same thought: What are we doing here celebrating the life of someone still in their prime, with their best years ahead of them?

I think I do a pretty good job of counting my blessings and appreciating all that I have. But now that I’m old enough to have the kind of funeral experience I had Tuesday, I’m going to try awfully hard to never lose sight of how fast it could be taken away.

Thirty-four years old. Damn.

**OK, time for some less weighty stuff. I really ought to be watching the great sketch comedy show “Key & Peele” on a regular basis, since I always seem to see clips on the Internet and find them hilarious.

Like this one; as part of a parody of a popular YouTube series called “Epic Rap Battles of History,” the two comedians pitted Michael Jordan vs. Muhammad Ali. Yeah, you might be a tiny bit offended at some of the rap, but I watched it three times and laughed harder each time.



**Finally, check this out (hat tip to my fellow teacher and friend Jon S. for pointing me to this).

The role of Wonder Woman has just been cast in the latest superheroes movie to come out of Hollywood, “Batman vs. Superman.” Her name is Gal Godot, she’s an Israeli actress, and also looks like a good stiff breeze would knock her over.

And this story made me mad, because once again, Hollywood is screwing up my childhood memories by continuing to screw up Wonder Woman. Lynda Carter, the subject of my first-ever life crush, was perfect as Diana Prince’s alter ego: Beautiful, strong-looking, with a great personality and a woman who, quite frankly, could kick your butt.

Which is exactly how the cartoon Wonder Woman was. And yet, since the gorgeous Ms. Carter left the role in the early ’80s, Hollywood has continually screwed up WW’s legacy.

Like at least 10 movies about WW were started then stopped. Then a few years ago there was going to be an NBC show about her, starring Adrienne Palicki, who was great on “Friday Night Lights” and might’ve made a good Wonder Woman, but the show never aired before getting cancelled.

Now Hollywood’s trying again. Here’s my free advice: STOP! The role was perfected by Lynda Carter. If you’re not going to get someone strong and buff to play her, like a Jennifer Lawrence or a Gina Carano, then just quit.

Because you’re ruining Wonder Woman with casting like this, you’re just ruining her.

Seven-year-old me is not happy.


“Homeland” torturing Brody mentally, and now Nazir’s back. A football legend you’ve never heard of retires. And Key and Peele make me laugh

Too depressed thinking about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict to write about it tonight, maybe tomorrow. All I’ll say tonight is this: How many of these occasional flare-ups are we going to see before all-out war really happens? And there’s no turning back once all-out war commences. So depressing. Now, onto the fake terrorists that delight me on Showtime each Sunday night…

Damien Lewis is such a terrific actor on “Homeland” that there are scenes where I truly have no idea whether he’s on board with being a CIA double-agent trying to stop terrorism or not, just by looking at his eyes.
The man has such an expressive face, that Brody can show several emotions at once, and lately, most of his expressions have been confusion and rage. The guy really has had to endure so damn much lately.

I  thought Sunday night’s episode was stellar, even the really creepy “everyone back at the CIA bunker listening to Brody and Carrie having sex” scene. (And poor Saul, you just know that had to kill his soul just a little.)

Brody lost it about two or three times Sunday, but there was his stalker crush/psychologically brilliant partner in this show, Carrie, there to put him back together.
I loved how the show dealt with Brody’s “capture” by Roya and the other bad dude whose name we don’t know yet, though I’m really surprised Quinn didn’t just OK his guys picking up the two terrorists when they had the chance (I know that would’ve ruined the ongoing plot, but still).

I continue to be amazed at how good Clare Danes is, and don’t believe her for a second when she tells Saul she’s got everything under control this time. Bitch be crazy for that Brody.

I also thought the Dana/hit and run storyline finally made some sense, and that I’m glad they’re giving Brody’s wife Jessica some more to do this year.
And now, Nazir’s back. Face-to-face with Brody. Can the future vice-president lie convincingly to the man who saved him? Does Brody turn full-on terrorist again, ignoring his bizarre lust for Carrie?

This show has three more episodes this season to tie us up in knots. What a fantastic, well-crafted piece of work.

**With any luck (and the speed and efficiency of the New York City Dept. of Education), I may start substitute teaching in the city public schools soon.
I would hope my first day wouldn’t go like this; it’s from the Comedy Centeral show “Key & Peele,” and it cracked me up toward the end…

**Finally, it’s hard to believe that someone as successful and smart as John Gagliardi can live so much of his career in the shadows, but that’s what he’s done.
If you’ve never heard of Gagliardi, you’re not alone, but he is definitely worth knowing about.
For the past 64 years, he’s been the head football coach at St. John’s (Minn.) College, a Division III team. He won 489 games and four national championships, with a delightfully unconventional style.

The man had few rules for his program, and the ones he did have were wildly different from the neanderthal policies of most successful coaches:
He didn’t believe in tackling in practice, fearing injury and not believing it was necessary.  Gagliardi never used a whistle in practice, and he demanded his players call him “John,” instead of “Coach.”

He also didn’t let players use words like “hit” or “kill,” and never cut anyone who wanted to be on the Johnnies team, meaning sometimes they had a roster of 200.

“I eliminate the unnecessary,” Gagliardi once told the L.A. Times. “And I think almost everything is unnecessary.”

He was a simple man who loved his job and never dreamed of chasing the brighter lights of big-time sports. He announced his retirement on Monday, at age 86, and I envy that he was able to coach so long, doing something he loved, and on his own terms. (Think of how Joe Paterno and Bobby Bowden exited; this is a lot cleaner and happier).

I first learned of Gagliardi in 2003 thanks to this terrific Austin Murphy story in Sports Illustrated. Read it and realize that some of us really do get satisfaction in doing what we love, well, for decades.
And that we don’t all need the glory.