• The fat man and a little boy

    This afternoon I was having a pleasant conversation about the movies, when I became helplessly mute over the name of a famous actor. I was fishing futilely for anything resembling a name, tossing out hints with reckless abandon.

    “You know, Superman’s father… the fat guy…”

    Apparently the actor in question is known for more than being fat, and such characterizations can cause offense.

  • I went to the beach and I saw a beach

    All my life I could count on the rocks of Honeymoon Island. I don’t know the complete history of Honeymoon Island, but I seem to recall a story about a developer who thought it would be a good idea to stabilize the island by dumping tons of rocks on the shoreline. In any case, the rocks were the sole sore subject of the island since I came to Florida as a young lad during the summer of ’79. If you weren’t interested in unprotected walking on the beach (re: barefoot), the island was great. The woods were a great place for exploring, the rocks were great for throwing… and if that wasn’t enough… for a long time the north part of the island was a haven for nudists.

    This was great stuff for any kid with a good pair of shoes: adventure, ammunition, and titilating urban legend.

    Several years ago the state took over the whole kit and caboodle, and the nudists (real or legend) have been long gone. But we still had the rocks to kick around.

    Wouldn’t you know it, we went to the beach last week and there were no rocks. For the first time I can remember there were more people than rocks. It was a regular hot-bed of Florida style frolicking in the sand and surf.

    At this point I’m not entirely sure it was real. I may need to go back to verify my previous findings.

  • Fear be gone!

    A collective sigh could be heard from as far as the Paines’ Prairie State Preserve late last week as word spread that Billy Donovan was not interested in the Kentucky job – and would be staying at Florida (for now).

    Going back to my days as a UF freshman, and lonely season ticket holder under the Don Devoe regime, I’ve had a destinct inferiority complex over my allegiance to the Gator B-Ball team. Even with the recent success (a bit of an understatement), I was ready to believe that other jobs were more attractive than the UF job. Maybe it’s not true anymore.

    Now UF just has to deal with the loss of the starting five and the first guy off the bench. Next year the boy wonder will earn every bit of his pay.

    I hope that no matter what happens next year, everyone remembers he’s the guy who did for UF Basketball what Spurrier did for UF football.