Hockey Goalie Mikayla Demaiter In The Gym, 67-Year-Old Denise Austin Is Still Fit, A Mayo Bath & RIP To The Dodge Challenger
Mrs. Screencaps was an emotional wreck over a muskrat being separated from her family during a Yellowstone nature show on the Smithsonian Channel
It was one of those nights.
Gray wolves ripping meat off bison. Bears ripping off parts of bison because they're starving. A bobcat trying like crazy to kill a duck for a meal. Foxes launching into the air and going head first into the snow to catch voles.
Will the baby bears be eaten by the gray wolves? Will the bobcat starve to death? Will the female bear give up the booty to some massive bear tracking her for miles? Will Black Tail, the lone wolf, find a pack? He eventually got his ass kicked for being on the turf of a wolfpack that didn't appreciate him snagging part of a carcass.
Talk about an emotional rollercoaster for Mrs. Screencaps as she sat there playing Nintendo Switch.
Don't watch...don't watch...that duck is a goner...
It felt like I was Kirk Herbstreit giving play-by-play so she wouldn't look up and see haunting images of a baby bison being ripped to shreds.
Then she went to bed and I followed that up with "Get Gotti" on Netflix where mobsters had their brains blown out by fellow mobsters and witnesses had their arms broken.
I made it through 1 1/2 episodes of that three-parter before I crashed. Don't tell me how it ends!
What a bender it was.
There was plenty of real-life death, despair (for the muskrat), fun 1980s file footage of NYC, interesting characters, and I had the Louisville-USC shootout on the second TV.
I packed all of that into 2/12 hours.
I think it's time to change the Dale Earnhardt tradition in 2024 & I need your advice
After years and years, I think it's time to retire Dale Earnhardt as the Screencaps closer. It's not that I no longer cherish the values that Dale Earnhardt brings to each post. It's just that it's time for the next step in the Screencaps journey. Call it the evolution of Screencaps. The next chapter is here.
Now I need your help: How should we end Screencaps moving forward?
Email: joekinsey@gmail.com
Screencaps Year-End Awards
• Ricky A. writes:
Just sitting here thinking while trying to crank out some year end reports at the office desk & got to thinking; ever think about doing an official year-end Screencaps awards?
Film has the Oscars.
Music has the Grammys.
Why can't we have the Screeny's (or insert other cheesy name here)?
Though I'd imagine these to be far less pretentious, no-tie affair, opening up winning envelopes around the driveway solo stove, probably even swap out a red carpet for a stroll down the dirt road. Either way, just curious if that crossed your mind at all.
Topic of the year (woodstacking, chili, proper garage fridge, etc), newcomer of the year (recency bias I know, just go ahead & give it to Vern), our version of the Walter Payton Man of the Year has to be the Indy Daryl "Do Hard Things" person(s)/group (Ragnar Relay group early leaders for sure). Go ahead & give the IG ladies an award too.
Lord knows they're struggling for some extra notoriety. The one thing that stands out the most? Not a single entry has ever given me the feeling of someone shooting for one-upsmanship. Just folks being folks & sharing life together.
Hope you had an enjoyable Christmas & looking forward to the next chapter. Thanks to you & the rest of the Screencaps loyalists.
Kinsey:
I'd like to hear some of your favorite moments from the year. My brain gets foggy after writing this column day after day after day, but tomorrow, I'll try to put this year in perspective.
Share your thoughts and I'll run them in the morning.
Email: joekinsey@gmail.com
Supermoon over Hilton Head
• Daytonian Ron writes:
Born and raised in Dayton, OH but nothing beats my frequent trips to Hilton Head Island, SC. After beautiful sunsets, the supermoon takes over with its stunning show!
Kinsey:
Not to play favorites, but the minute I see Dayton, OH (I was born and raised in Dayton; the hospital I was born in is gone; 3/4 of my elementary school building is gone; my middle school is gone; my high school is gone; the high school baseball team no longer plays on the field I cherished; my beloved Hardscrabble Little League is gone, too -- 13U State Champions before travel ball hardos like Chris B. in Houston ruined youth baseball), I move those emails right to the front of the line.
When it comes to my fellow Daytonians, I play favorites. Thank you for checking in, Ron.
First-time emailer ALERT & it's a wild one!
• Great American Dave K. in San Diego writes:
First-time emailer, although you did like my LinkedIn post about attending the Top Gun: Maverick premier in San Diego with Tom Cruise last year.
Flying to Cabo yesterday on vacay with the family. The college freshman daughter is on the window, wife in the middle, I’m on the aisle and the 17-year-old son is in the same row across the aisle. A couple in their mid-to-late 50s sits next to the boy child with the guy in the middle and lady against the window.
After we get up to altitude they throw a blanket over her. Not unusual. They each have a Bloody Mary. Then my wife pokes me and points out that the lady has her bare foot on the guy’s leg and mouths, “gross.” Then she looks at my son and mouths, “Are you okay?” He nods. Next thing we see when we look over is the guy’s right hand is under the blanket and her leg has extended a bit and touched my son. She pulls the foot back, but it’s looking more and more like he’s giving her the business. The second time her foot hits my son, it’s 100% obvious that the under-blanket shenanigans are on and I step in.
I tell my son to swap seats and before I sit down I get in his grill and tell him, “Knock it off. It’s obvious what’s going on here and you’re sitting next to a minor.” Him: “No it’s nothing.”
I sit down, throw my earbuds in and continue to control my breathing. Mama Bear is about to choke someone out.
The rest of the flight goes quiet and he and she refuse to look me in the eye. As we’re leaving the plane my wife is again about to go full mama bear - “Why are you molesting my son?!?!?” I tell her to walk off, turn to the lady and sternly say, ” You’re not blameless in this either.”
Him;” No! She just gets really bad leg cramps.”
Could have been resolved in the first interaction. Not buying it.
Him: “Let’s talk about this off the plane.”
Me: “No, if we do that it’s going to get violent. I don’t need to be a part of that.”
She still wouldn’t look at me. All the way through the customs line, etc. Awkward for them; me staring that them like a-holes - not awkward. Look, I admire their gumption and damn-near-60 tenacity, but choose your time and place. Next to a high schooler? Not it. OBTW, this will forever be referred to a “The Great Alaska Airlines Blanket Incident.”
I held mama bear back. Was I right to do so? I think so. Nothing was going to be accomplished by fighting onboard (see: Spirit Airlines) and it was more than likely I would be arrested. My son is a stoic and I am trying to be one. I feel like this cemented that.
Thoughts?
Kinsey:
Since I know Dave's background via LinkedIn because he sent a friend request, I'll leave it at this: Like Vern in Washington, Dave is a Great American who has a legit bio page on Google and the last thing Dave needs is to have his name show up in Google Search for a plane fight.
Dave handled this wild incident correctly. He got his son out of the situation without ending up in some wild plane fight video that he doesn't need on his record.
By the way, I hope the guy going to town on the woman isn't the guy in my neighborhood I caught cheating on his wife. I just happened to be on a flight to Phoenix with the neighborhood guy years ago. He told me he was heading to Cabo with a work client. Then, I'm sitting there in Sky Harbor and down the stairs comes a couple from the American or United lounge. It's the guy from my neighborhood and some Instagram model. They were walking to the Cabo gate.
Speaking of Vern in Washington, I asked him for his favorite way to grill salmon
• 85-year-old Great American Vern was all over this request:
Joe, thanks for asking. Like most things I do, it is butt simple.
1. A filet of salmon - cut to size for number of people.
2. Baste with Olive oil.
3. Salt/pepper to taste.
4. Heat the grill to 400/450 degrees.
5. Place filet meat side down at 45-degree angle for 2 1/2 minutes. Rotate for 2 1/2 min to get grill marks.
6. Flip with skin side down for 5 to 6 min. Don't turn. Skin may burn- but no problem- I separate the skin when serving. Gray matter between skin and meat is fat-I don't eat- this is the source of fish taste.
7. Just before removal from the grill I drizzle the fish with melted butter, lemon juice and some lemon zest.
8. Serve with wild rice, salad or asparagus and favorite wine.
9. For a special dish you can add crab on top and then add bearnaise sauce .
Remember 2 basic rules: Always start with good product. You can't make chicken salad out of chicken chit! Like all seafood-don't overcook.
Your favorite beer fridge sticker
• Keith W. writes:
Your new Bengals helmet you showed in Screencaps is an absolute beauty! Great gift! Also, in today's Screencaps you mentioned the guy's garage fridge in the background of his blue convertible. Combine the two, and I KNOW you need this vintage Bengals helmet magnet for your own garage fridge (it's about 3"). I am certain it is from the late 80s/early 90s during the Wyche/Boomer years, but it's brand new old stock (i just opened it from the original packaging).
I also know you don't want readers sending you stuff... but I'd be happy to if you want it. Just let me know.
Otherwise thanks for an entertaining year and you can count on me for pageviews daily!
Kinsey:
Keith, I appreciate the offer, but you're correct, the last thing I want is for readers to be firing off too many things to my mailbox. I'll eventually get my hands on a beautiful vintage 1980s Bengals helmet magnet for the garage fridge.
One of these nights I'll get bored and go shopping on eBay for garage fridge stickers/magnets.
Celebrities/athletes you've spotted in the wild acting like us normals
• Jim T. in Sandy Eggo (that's how he spells it) writes:
Having been a newspaper reporter for 30 years, most of my interactions with celebrities have been in that capacity – and you can’t judge celebrities by how the treat the media: Usually, they need us, and are unfailingly polite. Other times, they hate us (not without justification).
But there have been 3 times I ran into a celebrity NOT as a reporter.
Spring of 1979, I’m on a high school trip from Dayton to New York City and Washington, D.C. for a week. While in NYC, our teacher-leader leads us into the lobby of the InterContinental Hotel in Times Square. Before going in, he warns us, “We’ll only have a few minutes before security kicks us out. But it will be fun to look around and see how the rich live.” As we walk in, Muhamad Ali comes comes in from the other side. He’s got his wife and a couple body guards with him. He sees this gaggle of 30 or so high school kids – and walks over to talk with us! He’s joking, throws a couple fake jabs at some of the bigger boys, asks how we like New York. When one of the girls pulls out her 110 instamatic to take his photo, though, his bodyguards moved in between us and him. He got kind of sheepish and said, “Sorry, kids, I gotta go now. Great seeing you.” Utter class.
Summer of 1984, I’m flipping burgers at a Jack in the Box over by Jack Murphy Stadium. One night after a Padres game, Mr. Padre himself pulls through the drivethrough – we knew it was him because he had his “T Gwynn” license plate on his white Ford, and Tony Jr. in a car seat in the back. I asked him if I could have his autograph – he laughed and said, “Sure – what do you want me to sign?” I looked around and all I could find was a Jumbo Jack tray liner – handed him that and a pencil. Still have the autograph – had Tony Jr. add his (also in pencil) a year or two ago when I ran into him at a radio event.
Winter of 1988, I’m on magazine assignment in Austin doing a profile on blues impresario Cliff Antone. Sunday morning, I’m at the airport flying back to San Diego. You still had to check in in person back then, so I’m third in line at the counter waiting for it to open. Guy in front of me turns around and asks if I have the time. We start chatting – he’s there to get a ticket for his wife. Sports, family, life, we’re just chatting out of boredom.
After about 10 mins of this, a lady talking by stops and just stares at him. “Oh my God, are you Ricky Skaggs?” He was. She reaches into her purse, hands me her instamatic camera so I can get a shot of them together. Other folks see this, and also stop by. After 20 minutes, counter still not open, but no more fans pestering him. I turned to him and said, “Well, that was embarrassing – I had no idea who you were!”
He laughed, and said it had been nice to NOT be recognized for a change and just be treated like a normal human being. But then he laughed again and pointed out that maybe a music reporter MIGHT be expected to recognize a big country star …
• Hallmark Christmas Movie Script Writer of the Year Steve B. in Grand Junction, CO writes:
Years ago, during college, I worked as a bellman at the Downtown Denver Radison, which was one of the nicest hotels in town at the time.
A lot of celebrities and athletes stayed there. The Fed-ex envelope I had to deliver to Mario Andretti's room, didn't require a signature, but I pretended it did anyway for my autograph collection.
One day, (early 90's), when the San Diego Chargers were staying at the hotel, an older gentleman waved me over, and I recognized him as Chargers owner Alex Spanos. He gave me some car keys and told me to fetch his cell phone downstairs in his rental car, after which he handed me crisp twenty. I can't remember what I was more impressed with: the slick giant cell phone (the first one I had ever touched), or the fact he was rich enough to pay a guy $20 to walk down a flight of stairs.
Another time, I approached a well-dressed middle-aged man who was standing alone outside on the sidewalk waiting for his car. Because I used to follow politics closely, I recognized him as lower-tier candidate for president, but nobody else knew who he was.
I approached and made small talk with him for five or ten minutes about his alma mater's good basketball team, CU football and the like. He was still a nobody at the time (at least in Colorado), so everyone walked past us, not paying us any mind. A year later, he was the most famous man in the world.
And that's how I met Bill Clinton.
Merc? Isn't that a Mercury?
• Marc in Brentwood, TN writes:
Keep noticing some SC readers identified Mercedes Benz as Mercs.
For the record, I believe true identity of Merc should be long gone Ford brand of Mercury.
I have owned Montegos, Cougars, Grand Marquis and Mountaineers with the last one being the attached 2000 which I still drive hauling tree branches and trash to the local dump. Great pushrod V-8 that runs like a champ.
Not as sexy as M-B, but still chugging along after 23 years.
Kinsey:
I always heard my father refer to his boat motor as a Merc. Then Merc Matt came along and called his Mercedes a Merc and I, like Marc, was a little confused, but I'm going along with it.
And we're another day closer to 2024. Get those year-end Screencaps thoughts to the inbox. Let's finish the year strong. I have two more columns to go before we turn the calendar.
Go have an incredible half-day of work, if you're actually working this week.
Have a great day.
Email: joekinsey@gmail.com
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