I’m lonely, bored and tired of writing my book. So here’s my new list: The Top 10 Flicks You Have To Stop & Watch if They’re On TV

1. Titanic: Flawed for myriad reasons, but a really great flick with 800 memorable lines.

2. Jerry Maguire: One of the best sports films ever, with 801 memorable lines. You complete me, Show me the money, You had me at hello, I air dry, The Kwan, Are you Hootie, etc …

3. Wedding Crashers: Really funny, and easy on the head.

4. A Walk To Remember: Mandy Moore dies, but she never looks especially sick.

5. Superman: Just a terrific movie, with a million excellent scenes.

6. The Cable Guy: My favorite all-time film.

7. Tootsie: Can’t go wrong.

8. Spice World: So insanely bad, it’ll rot your mind.

9. Predator: If it bleeds, we can kill it.

10. Meet Joe Black: But only if you crave sleep and a good night’s rest.

… as voted upon by me. Ted Lilly, opening day vs. Milwaukee.

Back when I was a wee lad, my Grandma Marta used to work part time at the original Macy’s, located at 34th Street in Manhattan. I still vividly recall going to the store to visit her—the long wood escalators, the employee cafeteria, the Cellar. What I remember best is that, a couple of Christmas seasons, Grandma took my brother and me to see Santa. It was a true highlight—Macy’s had this whole Santa’s Village, with a long path and Santa’s helpers, etc. In my family, it was a favorite story to talk about the time, at age 7 or 8, Santa asked me what I wanted for Christmas and I replied, “Nothing, I’m Jewish.”

Anyhow, two years ago I started what I hope will be a lengthy tradition with my 5-year-old daughter, Casey: Taking her into the city for a day of fun before Christmas—capped off by Santa at Macy’s.

Today was the day.

I have friends who don’t want kids, and usually I understand. But not today. This was pure glee for both of us. Casey was mesmerized by Santa—we had this lengthy debate beforehand whether she should tell him she’s Jewish. When she reached a decision, she looked at me very seriously and said, “Now, Daddy, don’t tell him.” So I didn’t. Casey sat on his lap, asked for makeup for Christmas, posed for the overpriced photographs we would never, ever purchase.

Later in the day, after seeing the big tree across from the Rainbow Room, I dragged Casey into St. Patrick’s. She was fascinated, and initially asked whether we could sit down. I agreed, and then she started asking me about prayer. I explained the concept, how it’s supposed to work. “Daddy,” she said. “I think we should pray for Grammie, because she’s old.” I laughed.

This is a long babble. But for all the trials of being a parent, it really is worthwhile. Tomorrow, my wife and kids are going to Florida for a week as I work on my next book. To say I’m hurting is a huge understatement. But, for lack of a better word, I’m hurting.

Some absolutely amazing Hickey info:

First, Hickey actually accessed his Facebook page tonight and updated it thusly: “Brian gets off an certain trouble.”

Second, these two updates were posted today on Facebook by Angela, his dazzling wife:

1. Brian’s dad and I are sitting here in shock because we don’t know how Brian got on Facebook. Brian has expressive aphasia and may not be able to express himself properly, use the correct word in a sentence, or create fluent sentences. Friday was the first day he was really speaking words voluntarily (not on command) and yesterday he was attempting sentences for the first time. This is remarkable. Yesterday was so hard because he said numerous times he was nervous, frustrated, and unable to explain how he felt. He even said he can’t handle it. This all added to his frustration and anger. He kept telling me he wanted to come home. When I left he said, I’m right behind you. I felt so helpless. Today he was clearer and his sentences definitely fluent. He knew so much more. Its remarkable, his text messages are really the first time he has gotten a chance to express himself on paper because he doesn’t write with his left hand and since he’s so stubborn he prefers not to try it right now.

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2. Brian was aggitated all day yesterday, but today he smiled a lot and after gettin in bed an hour ago, couldn’t be happier. He has his cellphone tonight, so if you get any calls or emails from him they may actually be from him. I can’t confirm that he knows how to text or access his phone but he will answer it if you call him bc he did it earlier tonight.

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I’ve known Brian for a long time. We went to college together, worked on the student newspaper, have kept in touch over the years, talk every other month or so. He has always been an extremely tough guy—oozes of gritty reporter, staking out the mafia or chasing drug dealers. That sort of cat. So to see his ruggedness now is inspiring and, in some ways, not surprising. He’s a battler.

Here I stand early this morning, freezing my ass off, walking Norma. It was my fear when we bought a dog, and it has come true. Winter+Dog=No Good.

I’m not saying I don’t love little Norma. She’s a good gal. But, really, I can do without the early-morning hell …

 

Great update today from Brian Hickey’s wife, Angela …

“Brian is being moved out of the trauma stepdown icu into a regular trauma room as I write this. Visitng hours are 11am till 8pm at night. Don’t forget to use the bacterial hand lotion when you get into his room. He was moving his lips to mouth words today and he pointed to letters on his speech therapy sheet for us. The word was similar to a type of vehicle and he gave us the thumbs up and shook his head yes when we asked if that was what hit him. He may have just agreed with us, so we’ll have to ask him again.I left a message for the detective to let him know.”

Thus far, I haven’t given a ton of thought to whoever hit Hickey. I’ve been mostly concerned with his recovery. But if they ever catch the person, I will—without question—be at his trial. In the front row.

From today’s Salon … (their books of the year section)

Chuck Klosterman, author of “Downtown Owl”

“Boys Will Be Boys: The Glory Days and Party Nights of the Dallas Cowboy Dynasty” by Jeff Pearlman is the sportswriting equivalent of reading Neil Strauss’ “The Dirt” — it’s totally insane, completely plausible, and “gossipy” in the best possible way. Some of the content skews unnecessarily negative (I can’t imagine anyone in the Cowboy organization not named Troy Aikman who wouldn’t hate or dispute this book), but the reporting is dogged and the stories are more entertaining than any of the fictional moments in “North Dallas Forty.” By far the fastest 416 pages I read in 2008.

I was debating whether to write this, since it’s sorta cheesy and self-indulgent, but—to be honest—I keep getting requests, so figured I’d throw it out there:

With this being the holidays and all that jazz, if you or anyone you know is interested in ordering a signed copy of “Boys Will Be Boys: The Glory Days and Party Nights of the Dallas Cowboys Dynasty,” drop me an e-mail at anngold22@gmail.com. I’ll give you the info, but it pretty much involves you sending me a check for $21, which covers the book (believe it or not, I order them via Amazon) and the shipping.

Anyhow, just throwing it out there. Ho, ho, ho. Burrrrrp.

(For the record, the book has exceeded all my expectations. It spent seven weeks on the New York Times best-seller’s list, and is closing in on 50,000 copies sold. Crazy.)

As a guy who spends most of his daylight hours in myriad cafes and coffee shops, I’ve now had my brain penetrated by more than enough Christmas music to kill a large rat. Hence, I offer this brief list of the Top 5 Most Horrid, Putrid Christmas Songs Ever That Must Be Stopped Now, Now, Now!!!!!!!!!! (By the way, here’s the best holiday song ever, if you care)

1. “Mistletoe and Holly,” Frank Sinatra: Oh by gosh, by golly, Starbucks plays this song 8,000,000 times per day, and it sucks so amazingly bad that I can’t believe it’s Sinatra and not, say, Elton John. Just the absolute worst, most annoying holiday song ever written.

2. “Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer,” Elmo n Patsy: I was 12-years old the first time I heard this song, and it made me chuckle. Now, 10,000 listens later, it is acid to my face. Not funny, not harmonious, not good. Please make it stop. Please.

3. “Jingle Bell Rock,” Hall & Oates: It’s not a secret that I rank Hall & Oates ahead of the Beatles, but man, oh, man, what the hell were they thinking? (I can only imagine what goobers they felt like, filming this video. It’s like gay porn meets Leave It To Beaver)

4. “Jingle Bells,” Barking Dogs: I’m not making this up. Until a week ago, I did most of my writing at the Borders in Eastchester, N.Y. Then they started playing this song regularly, and I lost it.

5. “Santa Baby,” Kylie Minogue: Could be sung by Madonna, Dirk Nowitzki, Jed Bush–doesn’t matter. A masterpiece of dread. (Plus, she’s lipsinking)

For the past 1 1/2 weeks, many friends of Brian Hickey have lived under the assumption that the person who ran someone down with a car must be filled with guilt.

But I wonder.

It’s cliche to say humans are inherently good. But I wonder. I think about that man who was trampled to death in the Wall•Mart on Black Friday; about the greedy corporate SOBs who gave hundreds of thousands of mortgages to people who can’t afford them; to the leaders who fudged the intelligence to lead us into a war that has killed thousands; to the gas and oil executives who raise prices when demand is at its highest; to the CEOs who use the poor economy as an excuse to lay people off, even when profits are stable.

I truly try and see the good in people. But right now, in many ways, I’m struggling. Somewhere out there, a man or woman who ran down Brian Hickey is sitting in a house or apartment, kicking back and watching TV … sleeping in a comfortable bed … getting up and making breakfast. Maybe he/she feels guilty. But maybe he/she doesn’t. Maybe, instead of being inherently good, we actually have to fight and scratch and claw not to be bad. Maybe goodness has to be taught, not expected.

For the record, I’m not saying I’m any different. We all have greedy moments; selfish moments; crappy moments. But, well, I try and fight them off.

I try.