Ozzy Osbourne’s swan song

When I was in junior high in 1981, everyone was talking about Ozzy Osbourne.

We were too young to remember when Ozzy was the lead singer for Black Sabbath (the band that finally fired him in 1979). But we all liked Blizzard of Ozz, and Diary of a Madman, the two solo albums of his that were then available.

Back then, we bought them in vinyl, or maybe cassette. There were no lame streaming platforms in 1981. In 1981, Taylor Swift would not even be born for another eight years. It was a grand time, indeed.

There were concerns about some aspects of Ozzy’s persona. His music, like that of Black Sabbath, had a quasi-occult vibe. That was typical for heavy metal music of the 1980s. On at least one occasion, Ozzy had bitten off the head of a (already deceased) dove. That was not so typical, even for heavy metal artists.

I still like Ozzy’s music. But as is so often the case with still-thriving Boomer artists whom I discovered in my tender years (like Stephen King, for example), I have a strong preference for the early portion of Ozzy’s oeuvre. And even that is something I have to be in the right mood for.

I never tire, however, of my interest in Ozzy the individual. A few years ago, I watched several of Ozzy’s reality show series with my dad. I could never get my dad to listen to Ozzy’s music back in the 1980s; but he liked Ozzy the reality show star.

Now 76 and beset by health issues, Ozzy is closing out his long career. This weekend marked his final solo performance. Not bad, for a man whose first stage performances date back to the late 1960s.

-ET

Bumble and the death of the dating app

The dating app Bumble has lost over half of its value since going public in 2021. The company recently announced plans to cut 30 percent of its workforce.

Bumble is not the only dating app that is in trouble. Tinder is also hemorrhaging members. So is Match. Almost all dating apps are losing paying members, otherwise known as “men”. What gives?

Women almost always get a “free ride” on dating apps. In other words, they almost never have to pay for memberships.

This isn’t because of some feminist conspiracy. It’s because of simple laws of sexual economics. In the human world, as in the animal one, males are in supply, and females are in demand.

If you don’t believe this, and you would like an extreme example as proof, announce online that you’re going to host an orgy at your house. A hundred men will show up, and not a single woman. Continue reading “Bumble and the death of the dating app”

The return of the summer bikes, and evidence for time travel

I was driving through my neighborhood the other day when I saw…a group of kids riding their bikes.

No, seriously. Kids. Riding. Bikes. There were no electronic devices involved. No one was checking Instagram. There were no hovering, fretful parents, either.

For a moment I thought I had strayed into a time slip, and wandered back into the 1970s or 1980s, when the “free range” childhood was the norm. During the summer months, I used to take off at 8 o’clock in the morning—maybe come back for lunch—and disappear again until dinnertime. The bicycle was the cornerstone of that style of summering.

But that simply isn’t done anymore! Someone might get hurt! And think about all the screen time that the kids are missing.

I had to be back in 1978 or 1982! Time travel is real, I told myself.

Then I noticed that the kids were all wearing helmets, as if they were commandos assaulting the Taliban headquarters in Afghanistan. A concession to the hyper-vigilant, ever-nervous present. No—I was still in 2025! Whew! That was a close one!

Me, with bike, summer of ’78. The older adults in the photo are my grandparents, members of the WWII generation, who grew up during the Great Depression.

Nevertheless, this was reassuring to see. For years now, childhood has become increasingly screen-based and indoors. This trend accelerated during the pandemic.

The result is a young generation that is more disturbed than ever—even more than my grandparents’ generation was; and they came of age during the Great Depression—when there was actually a lot to worry about.

According to one recent study, 30 percent of adolescents today are affected by anxiety disorders. Some pundits blame social media. I don’t disagree with that analysis. I’m 56 years old, and an hour on Facebook or TikTok gives me anxiety, too.

I will interpret the kids on bikes as a positive sign, then. Perhaps there is a collective realization that the kind of childhood enjoyed by Generation X and the Baby Boom generation was much healthier—even if we didn’t wear bike helmets.

-ET

Should AC/DC retire?

Now let’s turn our attention to something really important: the future of the rock band AC/DC.

I’ve been a fan of AC/DC since the early 1980s, when Back in Black was the latest thing. AC/DC isn’t my favorite band. (That honor goes to Rush.) But AC/DC is definitely among my top ten.

The members of AC/DC, just like the rest of us, are getting older. Angus Young, the group’s iconic guitarist, is now 70. Lead vocalist Brian Johnson is now 77.

I’ve seen several articles in the press of late, claiming that AC/DC has been giving lackluster live shows, and that the band is overdue for retirement.

Perhaps. But I’ve also seen several video clips of recent AC/DC concerts.

No, it isn’t 1981 anymore. (And oh, how I wish that it were, for any number of reasons.) But AC/DC still gives a pretty solid live performance, by my estimation.

-ET

Angel: scandalous action films of the 1980s

The 1980s have acquired a reputation for being hopelessly conservative, fuddy-duddy times. On the contrary, many of the movies, songs, and jokes that were commonplace back then wouldn’t pass muster in today’s environment.

Consider Exhibit A: the Angel series of thriller films. The tagline of the initial 1984 movie was:

“High school honor student by day, Hollywood hooker by night.”

The movie starred Donna Wilkes (then in her twenties) as the 15-year-old Molly Stewart, a prep school honor student who, for whatever reason, moonlights as a sex worker each night. And of course, she solves a crime or two along the way, as well!

Now, I’m not saying this is a laudable film concept. But people barely batted an eye at it in the 1980s. If such a film were released today, social conservatives on the right would go ballistic. (Jesse Watters and the rest of the Fox News crew would have a field day.) On the dour, humorous left, meanwhile, there would be wailing and shrieking about “exploitation”.

To be sure, there was an element of exploitation in the movie. (This is why a twenty-something actress was cast in the lead role.) But in the 1980s, most folks seemed capable of realizing that a movie was just a movie.

I was fifteen when Angel came out. I never saw the movie, but it was heavily advertised. Many people did see the film, apparently. There were two sequels: Avenging Angel (1985) and Angel III: the Final Chapter (1988).

-ET

Get Angel (1984) on Amazon

The public soundtrack, and the cheapening of music

I took guitar lessons for a while in the early 1980s. But only for about a year.

I did not have a knack for music. I lack the sense of timing that is inherent in all great musicians. Writing comes naturally to me. Practicing the guitar was always a chore. I wanted the result, but I did not enjoy the process.

Forty years later, I can still manage most of the basic chords. But where music is concerned, I am content to remain in the audience.

Nevertheless, music is an art form that I appreciate. But I appreciate it selectively. There is music I love (most of it 1980s rock) and music that I will simply never enjoy. I acknowledge Taylor Swift’s commercial success. Her music is not my cup of tea.

But I’m a 50-something male, and we all hate Taylor Swift. Right? Well, maybe, but that’s an oversimplification. Even in the 1980s, there was popular music I never developed an appreciation for: A Flock of Seagulls, Prince, Bruce Springsteen, most of Michael Jackson’s catalog.

On the other hand, I loved Rush, Foreigner, Triumph, Def Leppard, Bryan Adams, Journey.

I think that’s normal, where music is concerned. We all have preferences. No one, I’ve found, is neutral about music. No one likes all of it.

Which makes the public soundtrack all the more annoying. Whenever one enters a restaurant, retail establishment, or waiting room, one is immediately assaulted with random music, piped in from overhead speakers. They play music at my gym, even though most members wear headphones.

Another problem with music in public places is that it is usually played too loud. I won’t get technical here, and speak of decibels. If when addressing my lunch or dinner companion, I have to raise my voice to be heard over the music, then the music is too loud.

Almost as annoying is the street guitarist, tambourine player, or vocalist. I admire the chutzpah of those who publicize their art this way. But I quicken my pace whenever I pass by a street musician. Similarly, I would not stand on the sidewalk and read from one of my novels, stories, or essays.

I want to consume my music selectively: the music I choose, at a time and a place of my choosing. I don’t want a restaurant, fitness club, or a grocery store to tell me that listening to the music of their choice, at the volume of their choice, is the price of admission to their place of business. This is especially true when I find their preferences actively annoying.

As a long-ago failed musician, I understand how difficult it is to become a real, skilled practitioner of that craft. How many hours of practice is required to perform music at even a journeyman level.

All the more reason not to cheapen music, by turning it into aural wallpaper.

 

-ET

A crime novel that came from a casino visit

One day in the early spring of 2018 I traveled to a rural part of southern Indiana to attend to some family matters. (I live in Ohio, but I’m half Hoosier. My dad grew up in nearby Lawrenceburg.)

I spent most of that day in Switzerland County. You’ve probably never been there. Switzerland County, Indiana looks nothing like Switzerland. In early spring, that part of Indiana, along the Ohio River, can look a little bleak. 

(Portions of the 1988 Molly Ringwald/Andrew McCarthy movie, Fresh Horses, were filmed in Switzerland County. McCarthy said of the area, “There’s the whole starkness up there; it helped the mood of the movie.” )

Southern, rural Indiana is home to several large casinos. I ordinarily have no interest in gambling venues. I ate lunch at the nearby Belterra Casino that day, though, because…there weren’t many other dining options in the vicinity.

My visit to the casino got me thinking: What if a young couple in debt visited the casino in a make-or-break effort to get ahead financially? What if they were lured there by a special offer? $300 worth of ‘free’ gaming chips?

What if their beginner’s foray into gambling went horribly wrong, and they fell further in the hole? Then suppose that a narcotics kingpin offers them an alternative plan…another way to get ahead. 

All they have to do is run an errand for him. What could possibly go wrong?

Get it on Amazon!

That’s the premise behind my 2020 casino novel, Venetian Springs. Set in a fictional version of Belterra Casino, Venetian Springs is a story of two down-on-their-luck high school teachers who succumb to the lure of easy money. They soon discover that easy money doesn’t exist. But this is a lesson that may cost them both their lives.

Watch the Venetian Springs trailer below.

View Venetian Springs on Amazon.

Read the first 8 chapters of Venetian Springs here on Edward Trimnell Books.

Rediscovering F. Scott Fitzgerald

In the fall of 1984, I was a junior in high school. I had a passion for the novels and short stories of Stephen King.

My high school English teacher, not so much. He was a devotee of two twentieth-century writers: Ernest Hemingway and F. Scott Fitzgerald. So I read a lot of Hemingway and a lot of Fitzgerald that year.

I was 16 years old, and really two young for either writer. Hemingway and Fitzgerald wrote about adult concerns, and concerns of what was already a long-ago, bygone era. As a teenager of the Reagan-era American suburbs, I had little interest in the social conventions of the Jazz Age, or the moody ramblings of World War I veterans.

As an adult, I’ve developed a new appreciation for both writers.

I’ve recently begun digging into The Short Stories of F. Scott Fitzgerald: A New Collection. This collection, edited by Matthew J. Bruccoli, contains all the Fitzgerald short stories I remember as a junior in high school: “Winter Dreams”,  “A Diamond As Big As the Ritz”, “Babylon Revisited,” etc.—as well as many that my high school English teacher never assigned.

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Fitzgerald wrote his short stories long. Not all of them can be read in a single sitting. Many of his short stories resemble compressed novels more than typical short stories, as they deal with events stretching out over many years, even decades.

Fitzgerald’s writing style is accessible to modern readers, but his subject matter is a hundred years removed from our time. It takes some effort to put oneself in the mindset of an adult living in 1925. (I am soon to turn 57 years old, and that is the era of my great-grandparents. The one great-grandparent I knew was born in 1895, one year before Fitzgerald.)

Still, there are some universal themes in Fitzgerald’s fiction. One of my favorite stories is the aforementioned “Winter Dreams”. This is the tale of a man who, between adolescence and early middle age, mistakenly projects all of his ideals onto a woman with whom he has a fleeting romantic relationship.

1922 magazine illustration for “Winter Dreams”

“Winter Dreams” is basically a story about the pedastalization of femininity. The theme is as relevant in 2025 as it was in 1922, when Fitzgerald wrote the story.

(Note: When I first read “Winter Dreams” in 1984, I “got” what Fitzgerald was trying to say. Some years would pass before I learned the real-life lesson.)

You might be hesitant to dive into a book of century-old stories. I would encourage you, though, to give Fitzgerald a try. Many of his tales, like The Great Gatsby and “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”, have been adapted for film in the modern era.

There is a reason why Fitzgerald endures, when so many other writers have fallen by the wayside. Fitzgerald was a skilled and insightful storyteller.

-ET

Gen X memories: How and Why Wonder Books

So much was superior about the Gen X childhood. We had decent schools, conscientious teachers, no social media madness, no “AI” nonsense, and no smartphone obsessions.

We also had a thriving children’s book industry. And no—I’m not referring to Harry Potter. (Most Gen Xers were in our 30s when Harry Potter appeared.)

We had comics and storybooks, of course. But there were also plenty of children’s books that respected the intelligence of children. Many of these books were quite sophisticated by today’s standards, what might accurately be called “middlebrow”.

Among these was the How and Why Wonder Books series. Most of these were published in the early 1960s.

I owned this volume: The How and Why Wonder Book of The Moon.

Out of print! So no Amazon link!

This title, targeted at the casual juvenile reading market, went into considerable detail about the science of the moon and the history of lunar observation. Since this was published before the 1969 lunar landing, that event was not covered, but plenty else was.

In the 1960s and 1970s, it was still assumed that intelligent people would spend more time reading than staring at electronic screens. How and Why Wonder Books, though written for children in the 1960s, would be beyond the reading comprehension levels of many adults born after 1990. Make of that what you will.

-ET

Paul Hirsch, the man who edited ‘Star Wars’

I had never heard of Paul Hirsch until I read his memoir, but I have been watching his movies since the age of nine.

Paul Hirsch is a longtime film editor and Hollywood insider. He edited the original Star Wars (1977), along with its 1980 sequel, The Empire Strikes Back. Other films in Hirsch’s editing oeuvre include: Carrie (1976), Creepshow (1982), Falling Down (1993), Source Code (2010), two Mission Impossible films, and The Secret of My Success (1987). All movies that I’ve enjoyed watching, literally for my entire sentient life.

View it on Amazon

I recently read Hirsch’s book, A Long Time Ago in a Cutting Room Far, Far Away: My Fifty Years Editing Hollywood Hits—Star Wars, Carrie, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Mission: Impossible, and More.

I don’t read a lot of Hollywood books, but I made an exception in this case. I am not a movie editor, nor do I aspire to be one (aside from the editing of my YouTube videos). Hirsch’s memoir, however, provides some insights that can be applied to any creative process. Hirsch is observant, and he’s been doing what he does for a long time.

For those who are interested in Hollywood, this book contains tidbits like: the challenges of working with the late John Hughes, Tom Cruise’s fitness and diet routine, and the bad blood between Julia Roberts and Nick Nolte that turned I Love Trouble (1994) into a flop. The chapter on the ill-fated The Adventures of Pluto Nash (2002), starring Eddie Murphy, is also worth reading.

Hirsch adds enough of his own life and beliefs to this book to personalize it, but not enough to turn it into a manifesto or (heaven forbid) yet another Hollywood political screed. Hirsch makes his left-leaning politics fairly clear in his memoir, but he doesn’t beat the reader over the head on the topic.

My only real disappointment with Paul Hirsch is that unlike me, he does not enjoy horror movies, even though he edited several of my favorites (Creepshow and Carrie). Fair enough. Supernatural horror is not for everyone, including, perhaps, some of those who have a hand in making it.

-ET

1980: a shave with your Egg McMuffin?

This is a promotional ad that McDonald’s ran in 1980. Breakfast customers were given a free Bic razor with the purchase of any breakfast entree.

1980 McDonald’s print ad

I don’t specifically remember this promotion, and my guess is that it didn’t last long. This is also one that you’re unlikely to see repeated in the twenty-first century. Clearly the ad appeals to one specific gender. (And in 1980, no one disputed the notion that there were only two.) But as we all know, women eat pancakes, too. So what’s going on?

My mother worked outside the home in 1980; but that was the very beginning of the Boomer-led “working woman” trend of the 1980s. The McDonald’s marketing folks probably figured that men would comprise the main market for fast-food breakfasts, presumably on their way to work.

-ET

April’s woes

This was the scene in my part of the world last night. (The photos below were taken about 5 miles from my house.) Storms moved through the area, with high wind and hail.

My electricity remains on for the time being (fingers crossed). This morning, however, I did drive by a utility pole that had been snapped in half, presumably from last night’s wind. That was less than a mile from my house. Hopefully the electricity stays on.

Never a dull moment in the badlands of Clermont County, Ohio.

-ET

A family-friendly version of Hooters?

The post-COVID era has been tough for all restaurant chains, but for some more than others. In February we learned that Hooter’s was teetering on the edge of bankruptcy. To avoid that, the company’s corporate owners are attempting to refurbish the brand with a more-family friendly image. They are calling this, whimsically, the “re-Hooterization”.

Hooters was founded in April 1983. The business model was simple: somewhat overpriced, okay food, served by winsome young ladies in short-shorts and form-fitting tops.

The clientele in 1983 would have been mostly Boomer men, who were then entering early middle age. The early 1980s was an era of socially conservative backlash. The Moral Majority was campaigning to ban girly magazines from convenience stores—often with success. There was no internet. In that environment, the bar for titillation was set decidedly low.

I was a freshman in high school in April 1983. As a 14-year-old boy, I would have been all over the idea of going to Hooters; but there was even less titillation in my part of the world, the conservative suburbs of Cincinnati.

About 20 years later, circa 2003, I did have lunch at a Hooters with a group of [male] work colleagues. I recall the waitress doing her best to get with the program: she made a point of sitting down beside each of us as we selected an item from the limited and overpriced menu. I ordered a grilled chicken sandwich. It came out dry and rubbery, as if it had been microwaved. That was my first and last experience with Hooters as an adult.

Regular readers of this blog will know that political correctness for the sake of political correctness is not my thing. Nevertheless, even I can recognize that a business model based on young women in skimpy attire has its limits. I like attractive women as much as the next guy, but when it comes to lunch, I’m much more easily sold on the quality of the steak, and the size and savoriness of the baked potatoes.

But what about this plan to rebrand Hooters as “family friendly”? I’ve heard reports (no doubt fed to the media by the company’s corporate owners) about an increase in Hooters diners with children. Coloring books available for the kids! (Yes, really.) Is Hooters now trying to compete with Chuck E. Cheese?

Here’s the question: once you take away the mildly prurient appeal of Hooters, what does the chain really have going for it? A family-friendly version of Hooters strikes me as an oxymoron, the equivalent of a vegetarian steakhouse, or a fast food restaurant with the motto, “We take our time while preparing your meal!”

We could have a spirited debate about whether or not Hooters was ever such a great idea to begin with, or whether such a concept has a place in the twenty-first century, which is simultaneously uptight about everything, and saturated with porn.

But who is the target market of a “family-friendly” version of Hooters? And why should anyone not take their family to Texas Roadhouse or Applebees instead?

-ET

Reading notes: ‘Flint Kill Creek’ by Joyce Carol Oates

Amid all the current events and weather-related entries of late, here is a quick mini-review of Flint Kill Creek: Stories of Mystery and Suspense. I have recently worked my way through the stories in this volume by the extremely prolific Joyce Carol Oates.

Speaking of Oates: she was born almost exactly 30 years before me, in the summer of 1938. Oates will turn 87 this year, and she continues to write and publish. This is a testament to both a sharp mind and a solid work ethic. Her style has not deteriorated, nor even changed much in recent decades. Her latest books are very similar to the ones she published years ago.

View it on Amazon

Flint Kill Creek, as the full name of the book implies, is a collection of dark tales. Many of these stories involve a crime, but not all of them do.

These stories are what JCO does best: explorations of the dark corners of the human mind and its motivations. These stories often have surprise twists. Oh…I didn’t see that coming.

Joyce Carol Oates is known as a writer of literary fiction. This means, among other things, that her work sometimes requires some effort to get through. And so it is with Flint Kill Creek. Some of these stories are quite accessible and fast-paced. (I particularly liked the opening, titular story.) Others are slower and more abstruse.

As is always the problem (for this reader, anyway) where JCO is concerned: few of her characters, even the innocent ones cast in victim roles, are very likable. I often find that in a JCO story, I have no one to root for.

If you already like Joyce Carol Oates’s work, you’ll like Flint Kill Creek. If you don’t like her style, this book will do nothing to change your mind.

As for me: I have always been somewhere in the middle regarding Joyce Carol Oates’s fiction. I most always admire her work; but I enjoy it to varying degrees.

-ET

**View Flint Kill Creek: Stories of Mystery and Suspense on Amazon