Madre de Mios

This is a 2007 salute to my mom for Mother's Day that I happened to like so here it is again. Just because it's a re-posting doesn't mean I loved my mother any less. She liked reruns too. STOP JUDGING ME!
  
Happy Mother's Day to all you mothers out there. (read: mothers, not muthas) You know who you are and you know what you are.  Whether you've squeezed out a child or seven yourself, adopted a young 'un, acquired the title through marriage or found yourself in the foster care program,  I salute you one and all. Of course, this only pertains to mothers of human beings. This does not apply to pet owners. I will say this once and once only-they are animals, not children. Continuing to assimilate them into society is wrong. Have we not learned anything from Planet of the Apes? Please stop the madness now.

Anyway I love mothers. My mom used to be one. She's no longer with us, having passed away in 2001. Phyllis Lucille Galvez was born in Alameda, California and grew up all around Northern California. Her family settled in Galt, on the outskirts of Sacramento, in the early 1940s. She attended Galt High School with a young red-headed lad named Bill Richardson, who later moved to Hollywood and changed his name to Darren McGavin, star of The Night Stalker and A Christmas Story. Later in the decade, she met a Hungarian bartender with a sly smile named Adam Cherney and soon became his wife. She gave birth to three kids, the baby being me. I was named after Zachary Scott, her favorite actor (pictured above). I was almost Zachary Scott Cherney, but instead took Zach's last name and my dad's for a middle. (For more info on Zach, click HERE.Pretty cool stuff.) After raising her three lil' boomer chillun, my mom went back to school to learn accounting at Humphreys Business College, turning it into lifelong employment at the University of the Pacific.

I miss my mom. She was a great supporter of mine, seeing just about everything I did on stage until she got sick. She was even present the night I won the stand-up comedy competition. She used to claim that she wasn't much different than Milton Berle's mother.  From that, she meant that she was my biggest fan. It meant everything to make my mom laugh.

When someone was leaving, she used to say, "Catch your act later", some catch-phrase probably from the '40s.

That's always stuck with me. I even told her that the last time I saw her alive, laying in a hospital bed, her mind pretty much gone the way of all dementia. I'd have given anything to hear her reply. It wasn't meant to be.

So now, I'll just say it again, but first I'll say:

Happy Mother's Day, Mom

I'll catch your act later.

Merry Christmas, You Ol' Internet!

Instead of a snarky diatribe about the commercialization of Christmas or a whiny dissertation 'bout why I ain't got no spirit this year, I decided to relate to you a little tale that may or may not be related to the holiday season. However, it occurred at this time of year, so it shall suffice, m'kay?

Driving home the other night from the northeast side of Portland to my home out in the 'burbs (a cruel act of fate from which I may never recover), I had my radio tuned to KNRK, what passes for an "alternative rock" station in this day and age. Listening to this keeps me young, yo...and apparently in denial. Anyhoo, the volume was cranked as I was singing along with my man Cee-Lo Green's sweet tune "Fuck You"(censored to simply "F You" here or "Forget You" everywhere else or "Fudge You" if you're Ralphie from A CHRISTMAS STORY). Naturally, I had been emphasizing my preferred nomenclature at the top of my lungs to blow off some necessary steam after the stress-o-rama known as the workaday world. Once the song ended, I heard something not quite right on the right of my car, sudden vibration with a noticeable deceleration of power.

"Hmmm...what could THAT be?"

Several possibilities ran through my head, most actually involving NOT pulling over with the stupidest scenario being:

"I'm only ten miles from my house। I can probably make it!"

It should be noted that I was dropped on my head when I was a baby. How many times, I'm not sure, but it must have been daily at the very least.

My car decided for me as something began to seriously start rapping up the right side o' my front end. Okay, could very well be a flat. Great! Thanks for playing, dumbass! I had already made my way over to the far right lane ever so carefully with the next exit just a few hundred feet ahead. I made it, turned and parked. My tire had shredded like so much black licorice right down to the rim. I swear on a stack of pancakes that it didn't feel like a flat tire at all. It didn't veer to the right at all and it just felt like a vibrator having a seizure. I thought it might be the tranny or a loose belt of some kind, maybe Grandma got run over by a Honda Civic but not a flat friggin' tire.

The question was: What to do NOW?

Sigh. Well, I'm in a well-lit area. Gotta change the tire, but first, call the wife. Phone. Where would a pay phone be? No, I don't carry a cell...DON'T YELL AT ME! I HAVE MY REASONS! NO, THEY'RE NOT BASED ON PRACTICALITY!...there's got to be a pay phone somewhere, right? I wandered the neighborhood, a series of strip malls. Hmm, the rain stopped. it's almost warm outside. Where in the hell is there a goddamn pay phone in 2010? Not at Home depot. Not at Taco Bell. Plaid Pantry (an Oregonian convenience store)? No pay phone, says the clerk. Could I use their phone? I could? Really? SA-WEET.

"Hi, honey. I'm going to be a little late. I got a flat tire."

"Oh, that's too bad. What are you buying at the Plaid Pantry?"

"Nothing! Gotta go!"

As I head back to the car, a Washington County Sheriff's car pulled up right behind my car, lights a blazin'. Friendly chap. Shone his flashlight as I started to dig out the doughnut sized spare, the first time it's been removed since I first bought the car back at Stockton Honda in 1997. I had a bit of difficulty with the jack when the officer suggested we use his. Okay by me. Before I knew it, here was Officer Friendly changing my tire for me and I was holding the flashlight for him.

Say what?

When he finished, the officer noticed there wasn't much air in the spare, so he offered to follow me to the Chevron station around the block. Upon arrival, he asked if I had any change for the air since, in this day and age, you have to pay for air. I'll be damned if the air wasn't free.

I asked my new best friend his name and he told me he was Officer Morris. I shook his hand, thanked him again and again, then wished him a Merry Christmas as he resumed his patrol, already in progress.

So let's review:

I got a flat tire and drove on it for at least two miles, working it right down to the bone. It had stopped raining. I was able to use a phone at a convenience store. Officer Morris of the Washington County Sheriff Department changed my tire for me. My mechanic told me the brake line was undamaged . I didn't have to buy a whole new wheel, just a replacement tire.

Come on, people! If this was not a Christmas miracle, then I don't know what is. It works in my book. More likely, it's the best thing of all, an act of human kindness that restores more than just a little hope in my heart that somehow balances out the rest of the michegoss from the rest of the year. Let's not forget a big dose of faith too. Aren't those the two main ingredients of the season- Hope and Faith? Just to complete the trilogy, don't forget their lil' sister Charity either, me hardies.

As for the other bullets I dodged-the weather, the lack of damage, the free air?

I'm not above believing in a little holiday magic.

So there you have it. If you don't think this is much of a heartwarming tale, then try to imagine it in Claymation with songs by Perry Como, Toby Keith, and Ke$ha.

Or would you like to hear Cee-Lo Green again? 

Merry Christmas, y'all to y'all, a g'nite!

I Saw Mommy #$%*?&%@! Santa Claus

'Tis the season for all the same holiday movies-any number of adaptations or variations of A Christmas Carol, It's A Wonderful Life as well as 24 hours of A Christmas Story. Add to that the latest batch of garbage this side of Crapatalola, East of Java, namely Deck the Halls, Surviving Christmas, Jingle All the Way, Christmas with the Kranks and your head will swim trying to find some kind of joy while the rest of the world stresses out to find at least one last Nintendo Wii or Diaper Me Elmo. Why should the search for at least half-way decent Christmas fare be so frustrating as well? Sure Elf and Bad Santa are fine and I do have a demented friend whose idea of holiday entertainment is The Lion in Winter (which is actually a deliciously diabolical choice), but what else is out there?

And let's not get into the Die Hard debate, okay? Lethal Weapon is more of an Xmas action flick than the John McClain saga. Don't even think about tossing in some disposable Hallmark junk neither cuz it brings out the Scrooge in me.

Here are a few suggestions or what one might call The Scott Cherney Christmas DVD Box Set (if one was me, of course)

Pocketful of Miracles (1961) Frank Capra's last film was a lavish remake of his earlier Damon Runyon Lady for a Day. Bette Davis stars as gin-soaked street vendor Apple Annie Glenn in this Ugly Duckling holiday fable with Glenn Ford, Peter Falk and Ann-Margaret in her first role. As funny and sloppily sentimental as the best Capra.


A Midnight Clear (1992)-Adapted from the William Wharton novel, this World War II story involves a Christmas truce between two ragtag platoons of GIs and Nazis. Director Keith Gordon made a small masterpiece here with a fine cast that includes Gary Sinise, Frank Whaley and actually tolerable performances from Ethan Hawke and Peter Berg.

Gremlins (1984)-Originally a summer release, the great Joe Dante's classic film of Chris Columbus screenplay (That's right, Chris Columbus, you elitist snobs! Don't forget, he wrote your beloved Goonies too) takes place-when, class? During Christmas. You betcha boots. "They're watching Snow White-and they're loving it!"

The Ref (1994)- Dennis Leary, Judy Davis and Kevin Spacey enjoy the holidays Edward Albee style in this biting little tale of a burglar acting as a referee in a knock-down, drag-out battle between a husband and wife as the family arrives for Christmas dinner. Ted Demme never made a better movie and the script by Richard Lagravenese is ho-ho-ho-larious.

and yes...

A Christmas Story (1984)-Played to death over the last twenty years, I have to throw some love its way mainly because director Bob Clark died this year and really deserves his props. Forget that he was responsible for Baby Genuises 1 AND 2, Rhinestone and Loose Cannons. Remember instead that he gave us the original Black Christmas (still genuinely scary), the fantastic Sherlock Holmes meets Jack the Ripper saga Murder by Decree and, love it or hate it, Porky's, a major box office hit. Of course, he will always be remembered for this Jean Shepherd tale, a Christmas perennial. It works because it is so unapologetic and allows Ralphie to just be a kid without learning some kind of false-note message at the end. And it gave Darren McGavin his best role next to Kolchak-The Night Stalker. So to Bob Clark, I dedicate this Christmas to you.

As for the rest of you...Merry Christmas and don't shoot your eye out.

Happy Mama's Day

Happy Mother's Day to all you mothers out there. (read: mothers, not muthas) You know who you are and you know what you are. You can have squeezed out a child or seven yourself, adopted a young 'un, acquired the title through marriage or found yourself in the foster care program. I salute you one and all. Of course, this only pertains to mothers of human beings. This does not apply to pet owners. I will say this once and once only-they are animals, not children. Continuing to assimilate them into society is wrong. Have we not learned anything from Planet of the Apes? Please stop the madness now.

Anyway I love mothers. My mom used to be one. She's no longer with us, having passed away in 2001. Phyllis Lucille Galvez was born in Alameda, California and grew up all around Northern California. Her family settled in Galt, on the outskirts of Sacramento, in the early 1940s. She attended Galt High School with a young red-headed lad named Bill Richardson, who later moved to Hollywood and changed his name to Darren McGavin, star of The Night Stalker and A Christmas Story. Later in the decade, she met a Hungarian bartender with a sly smile named Adam Cherney and soon became his wife. She gave birth to three kids, the baby being me. I was named after Zachary Scott, her favorite actor (pictured above). I was almost Zachary Scott Cherney, but instead took Zach's last name and my dad's for a middle. (For more info on Zach, click on the title above. pretty cool stuff.) After raising her three lil' boomer chillun, my mom went back to school to learn accounting at Humphreys Business College, turning it into lifelong employment at the University of the Pacific.

I miss my mom. She was a great supporter of mine, seeing just about everything I did on stage until she got sick. She was even present the night I won the stand-up comedy competition. She used to claim that she wasn't much different than Milton Berle's mother. From that, she meant that she was my biggest fan. It meant everything to make my mom laugh.

When someone was leaving, she used to say, "Catch your act later", some catch-phrase probably from the '40s.

That's always stuck with me. I even told her that the last time I saw her alive, laying in a hospital bed, her mind pretty much gone the way of all dementia. I'd have given anything to hear her reply. It wasn't meant to be.

So now, I'll just say it again, but first I'll say:

Happy Mother's Day, Mom

I'll catch your act later.

TV Trifecta

No sooner do we lose Don Knotts that two more iconic TV stars buy the farm.

Dennis Weaver, known as Chester from Gunsmoke and Sam McCloud from the NBC Mystery Movie series McCloud, is pushing up daisies on Boot Hill at the age of 81, the same age as Deputy Barney Fife. Undoubtedly, his best performance had to be in Steven Spielberg's incredible debut, Duel. For pure creepiness, check out Weaver as the motel manager in Orson Welles' Touch of Evil where he wouldn't have been a stranger in David Lynch country.

Now comes word that Darren McGavin, immortalized as The Old Man in the holiday perrenial A Christmas Story (You remember him. He won a major award.) is also taking a dirt nap. McGavin also starred in the second best Movie of the Week of all time (after Duel), that being The Night Stalker. After the sequel, the not quite as good The Night Strangler, he continued his role as reporter Carl Kolchak for the precursor to The X-Files entitled Kolchak-The Night Stalker. However, I will always remember him as the guy who went to Galt High School at the same time as my mom. Whenever he'd appear on TV, we used to kid her by saying, "There's your old boyfriend." God, we were funny kids.

So long, boys. I'll be waiting for your mentions on the Parade of Dead Folk on the innumerable award shows.

Wow, this'll keep 'em busy until next fall's Emmy telecast.