Random thoughts and observations:

On May 22, South Valley Junior High (and nearly all other junior and middle schools in Arizona) is holding “promotion” ceremonies for 8^th graders. Why? Apparently to celebrate the fact that most, if not all, students learned enough about algebra, astronomy and the Civil War to be allowed to go to high school, where they will spend their first year trying to avoid giving seniors reasons to beat them up.

Promotion? Are you serious? Why not just call it the “Hey, lookit what these kids done did!” ceremony, like they do in Arkansas. Of course, in Arkansas the 8^th grade graduates are the ones that go into that state's institutions of higher learning (truck-driving schools, beauty schools or prison) and accomplish something so few Arkansans do – keep their teeth through most of their lifetimes (something to do with staying off meth).

Otherwise, call “promotion” ceremonies what they really are – “It's the end of the year, we're all cranky, so let's hand out cake and get outta here early.”

–

Text conversation between myself and my son (spelling cleaned up so as to not require knowledge of “textese”):

Me: “Hey, you see that cop who tased that 14 yr old?”

Bryson: “No, what happened?”

Me: “Cop went to break up a fight and tased one of the kids.”

Bryson: “Cool”

Me: “Cool? That kid got 50K volts. Why is a cop tasing a kid?”

Bryson: “Yeah, that's not good'”

Me: “So why did you say cool? What if you got tased?”

Bryson: “It would hurt but then I'd brag about it.”

–

Having been fortunate enough to interview many celebrities over the years as a reporter, here off the top of my head are these three ratings:

Coolest celeb: The late George Carlin. His publicist said I had to record it (I never recorded interviews, a big pain in the ass) so I thought he was going to be a jerk. But he talked to me way longer than “allowed,” answered questions thoughtfully, and injected humor without forcing it (some comedians – yes you, Judy Tenuta – use interviews to try out material and get mad if you don't laugh). George Carlin was such a pleasure to talk to.

Nicest celeb – Dwayne Johnson. Met him at a local hotel as he pimped Game Plan, and he was extremely gracious and pleasant. Again, we went over the time limit (as his “handlers" grew more exasperated because he had numerous interviews to do that day), and as I left, he expressed condolences for a colleague who had recently passed, our movie reviewer Bill Muller. Johnson said he had never “had the pleasure” of meeting Bill, but had heard many wonderful things about him in the industry. Class act all the way.

Biggest jerk – (tie) Chris Rock and Norm Macdonald. Rock, doing standup at the time, was at a party and made it clear how much talking to a reporter annoyed him. Macdonald (you may remember him as a member of Saturday Night Live, or maybe not because he's pretty much disappeared) was in the middle of moving. Several times he put me on hold so he could talk to his agent, something about his new address and where his couch was. Talked to him roughly 12 minutes over an hour. His answers were unresponsive and tedious.

–

Everyone I know loves those two Sonic guys. Their series of commercials are consistently funny (well, 1 or 2 clinkers, like the time the stupid one drove), but my favorite usually runs during the NCAA basketball tournament when the two are talking about their love of tater tots. The driver goes to put one in his mouth and the other guy slaps it away screaming, “Oh no, not in my house! I'm not putting up with that weak tot action! When you go to the mouth, you go strong or not at all!” Brilliant. So is the one about being a cheap date. Keep up the good work, Sonic guys.

–

A friend and I were having beers at the mall and the Kentucky Derby happened to be on. With what happened last year (Eight Belles breaking both ankles at the finish and having to be euthanized right there), I was not too keen about watching it this year. But it was on, so what the heck. We watched the horses being introduced, and I kept giving the thumbs-down until one particular horse was introduced. I loved the name. I mean, Mine That Bird? WTF? Where did that come from? Not “Mind That Bird,” like, “Hey, watch out for that bird,” or “Dude, be careful where you flip that bird.” But “Mine That Bird.” Who mines birds? My mind immediately created this dimly lit cavern with the seven dwarves carving away with pick axes and every now and then a piercing squawk as they hit another rich vein of bird. So I was all over Mine That Bird. Yup, that was the one I was gonna root for.

The race starts and, having not paid attention to the horses' numbers, I made the casual observation that the last-place horse was probably Mine That Bird (it was). And when the winner stormed out of nowhere, I said, “Did that announcer just say Mine That Bird won?” (he did). So I just wanted all those bookies and experts that a guy who knows as much about horse racing as he does about particle physics (he doesn't) picked that 50-1 shot. And somebody somewhere owes me money.