For those of you across the country who do believe that all people from New Jersey live in a putrid industrial swamp, say fugeddabouit at the drop of a hat, and will whack somebody just for taking their parking space… you really do need a little “Jersey Style” education courtesy of the Zman.

Wherever I travel throughout the U.S. or Canada, every brutally unoriginal, smart-ass jokester says the same goddamned thing every single time: “So, you’re from Joizey?” Now usually I’m a playful sort who kids back with almost anybody, but this always irks me. And the reason: NO ONE… I said ABSOLUTELY NO ONE from New Jersey says NEW JOIZEY! It’s an urban myth, my guess perpetuated by 1930 gangster flicks and The Bowery Boys movies. “Hey Satch, why don’t you grab da dames and we’ll all head fa Joizey.”

Now I admit we have our accents, especially northern NJ, which is close to Manhattan. While recently dining in Toronto I asked the waitress for an after dinner coffee and she says back, ‘Ya’s want some Caw-fee?” and proceeds to laugh. Now I possess a killer Joe Pesci imitation, and I look at the server deadpan in the eyes and said, (think Cousin Vinnie, now) “Hey toots, howz ‘bout a little respect here…huh?” She snickers again and says, “Come on, let me here you say Joisey! I just want to hear you say it!” Now all of a sudden I’m some kind of freakin’ traveling road show. Like an indignant ass – still in Cousin Vinnie mode – I blurt out for the entire restaurant to hear, “We don’t say Joizey for crissakes! Capiciche?!” She froze in her tracks as her hands started to tremble. With big puppy dog eyes the woman looks up at me and asks, “ You’re not going to hurt me, are you?”

Not too long ago in Tampa, I’m in a store and the woman starts laughing and says, “Boy oh boy, ya’ll sure do talk funny.” Unfortunately she didn’t know she wuz dealin’ wit’ Tommy DeVito from Goodfellas. I gave her the stare that could kill and said, “Whadda ya mean I tawk funny? Like clown funny, like ha-ha funny?”

This dumb-ass broad (having absolutely no inkling of a clue that I was pulling her leg) stared at me like I stepped out of a silver spaceship from Uranus. “No, sir… ya just talk funny.”

“Do I amuse you? Wise don’t you explain it to me, huh? I wanna know…do I amuse you?”

“SECURITY!!! SECURITY!!!”

For years, the much-maligned state of New Jersey has often been the brunt of many a comedian’s off-color jokes. But without question, the HBO series The Sopranos brought a new and interesting sense of pride to the Garden State. I personally happen to be half Italian on my mother’s side, and have lived all my life in northern New Jersey. I know all of the show’s landmarks and have even frequented the Bada Bing (actually known as Satin Dolls, on Rt. 17 in Lodi.) When you live in this area, you learned to recognize that when streets were closed, traffic was diverted, light towers were up, and large production trucks surrounded the grounds, The Sopranos were shooting a scene.

But as cool as The Sopranos was, it only deepened the stigma that everyone here is a buncha leg breakin thugs and that everyone is Italian! And to that again I say, stop being such a friggin’ stunad! Do any of you gabbagools realize that New Jersey has hundreds of miles of sandy white beaches and coastline, pristine forests and mountain ranges, is one of the nation’s top producers of sweet corn, tomatoes, and cranberries, is home to Princeton University, Seton Hall, and Rutgers, as well as luminaries such as Albert Einstein, Thomas Edison, Buzz Aldrin, Norman Schwarzkopf , Derek Jeter, Shaq, Bon Jovi, Sinatra, and of course let’s not forget Derek Drymon, from my hometown of Jefferson Township, and famed producer of Spongebob Squarepants? (And of course, headquarters to the greatest Cigar store and Cigar magazine on the planet.) This state is a venerable melting pot of nationalities, with Wallington Township being the 2nd largest Polish community in the country! And above and beyond anything, we’re probably best known as the “diner” state.

I will admit there’s no doubt that Jersey people are nowhere near as friendly as others around the country. We’re certainly not mean or anything, it’s just that people in the NY / NJ metro area move at a much faster pace than anywhere else in the U.S. New Jersey is the most densely populated state and the cost of living is outrageous. Our property taxes and car insurance is the highest in the nation and millions of us are cramped into this little state that basically looks like a guy with a flat head who is looking to his left.

So all of you good folks from the other 49 states – how about cutting us some slack? We’re good citizens and our state has a lot to offer. Just don’t ask me to say Joizey, cuz the next person who makes that lame-ass wise crack ends up with his friggin head in a bowling ball bag.

I’m glad we came to this little understanding.

- ZMAN

Hey Gabbagool…yeah, I’m talkin’ to you. I got a rib recipe that’ll knock your freakin’ head into the next room. These sons of bitches are so sweet, so tender, so juicy and tasty that I had to whack my neighbor just to get the secret recipe from him. But since you came all the way to Jersey just to see me, I’ll let ya take a look – but don’t tell nobody…capeesh?

All right, I’m full of it. It’s actually my neighbor’s Sal & Carol’s own recipe. You see, we’ve been going to parties at their house for years and when they serve these ribs, everyone goes absolutely insane over them. A platter the size of Rosie Odonnell’s housecoat will disappear in minutes with the crowd begging for more. I’ve never tasted a sauce like this, anywhere, and could never put my finger on it. The flavor is intoxicating and I just had to get the lowdown. So last July fourth we had them over the house, they brought the ribs, and Carol was in a sharing mood and divulged her deep secret recipe to me. And since I am a hell of a guy, I’ll be a real mamaluke and share it with youz guys, too.

The Recipe…
I’ll start by letting you know that it’s not a traditional bbq sauce we use, but a base of molasses and brown sugar. You’re going to slow-cook these bad boys, using both the oven and your grill. Yeah, it’s a little bit of work, but I’d like to consider it a labor of love. Trust me, ya chooch.

Start with a nice rack of baby back ribs. (The Zman is always partial to a nice rack.)
Then we make a rub – Paprika, garlic powder, salt & pepper, cumin, and oregano.
Then we make the sauce –
Molasses – 1/4 cup
Brown sugar – 2 1/2 cups
Ketchup – 1/2 cup
Mustard – 1 tablespoon
Chinese Sweet and Sour Sauce – 2 packets (Go rip ‘em off from Chan’s up the Street)
Soy Sauce – 1 tablespoon
Worcestershire Sauce – 1 tablespoon
Fresh Garlic – 3 – 5 (cloves depending on your love for garlic) thinly sliced
Red Pepper Flakes – 1/2 teaspoon

Place the ingredients into a pot and onto the stove top, stir and bring it to a boil. Turn down the heat and just let it simmer.

Take your rub and coat both sides of the meat evenly.
Place the rack on a cookie sheet, uncovered – and put it in the oven for one hour set at 225.
After an hour, cover it with foil and pop it back in for another  2 hours. This lets it get all steamy in there as it slow-cooks in it’s own juices.

Ok, brutha, you’re ready for the grill. Set it to a medium flame and let the grill top heat up.

Place the rack on the grill top for a few minutes on each side until they get golden brown.

Now it’s time to brush on that sauce with a nice consistency.

Place the ribs back onto the grill again for only a couple of minutes, both sides – until the sauce starts to bubble and caramelize. The outside should get slightly charred and nice and crispy.

After you cut them up, you can pour the remainder of the sauce over the meat while it’s still hot.

And that’s it, my brother. North Jersey Style Killer Ribs to impress the hell out of Paulie, Christopher, Silvio, and Tony. And if Johnny Sacks and Phil Leotardo want some, don’t act like a douche bag – just give ‘em their cut. We don’t want no trouble over here.

Oofah! – Z

By Larry Winget

Best selling author Larry Winget has a new book and it’s not only his best work to date – it’s the most important book you might ever read. Yeah, those are some pretty strong words and rightfully so. But today, his message is very black & white.

Some of you have really had your blood pressure soar about my black and white approach to self-improvement, finances, parenting and life in general. You have pointed out that there are several areas that really are gray when it comes to life. No kidding? Thanks for pointing that out to me. I had NO IDEA that was the case. How could I know that? I have never had a problem or faced with a challenge. I have never raised teenagers, had money issues, been married or divorced, held a job, managed people, driven down the street, eaten out, bought anything, had a bill, or had to make a tough decision. Never. None of those things. I have lived a completely sheltered life in a cave blessed with only positive thoughts and outcomes. I have attracted all of my success through The Secret and The Law Of Attraction. I have never had a real life facing all of the things real people face and I honestly had no idea that life had any gray areas.

Come on folks, I know life if full of gray areas. It’s just that I think we have all become way too comfortable living in those gray areas. Gray areas used to be little tiny corners we could escape to in order to justify our stupid actions and results. Now the gray areas are everywhere! Our homes, our businesses, our government, our society, our grocery stores, in our books, and all over our televisions. Our leaders spew gray and drape it red, white and blue. Things are so gray that when someone actually draws a line and paints one side black and the other side white, it bothers the hell out of people! We have become comfortable and embraced the gray areas way too much and shied away from the uncomfortable realities of black and white. I want people to begin to think more in terms of black and white. Right or wrong. Good or bad. People need to understand they are either doing enough or they aren’t doing enough. We need to recognize we are either giving our best or we aren’t. You are either on the way, or you are in the way. You are either living within your means or you aren’t.  It’s either the truth or it’s a lie.

It’s easier to live in the black and white world. That’s why I am so confused by those who love the gray area so much. When faced with a decision, you just make it quickly based on whether it is the right thing to do or the wrong thing to do. You don’t have to wallow in it, meditate on it, study it, consider it, hold a focus group, or take a vote. You DO the right thing.

Why? Because you can. All it takes is some guts. A backbone. A pair.

You will be criticized for it. Trust me, I know. Who cares? You will be given grief at work for kissing up by doing your job when others are slacking. Tell them to kiss off. Your friends will give you crap about being too tough on your kids. They will laugh at you for saying no to spending money when you know you can’t afford it. They will ridicule you for not taking the easy road when you know you should take the right road. Those people are not your friends, dump them. Now. And never look back.

Do the right thing in your life every time to the best of your ability. You won’t be perfect at it. I’m certainly not. I mess up every day and slip and slide around in the gray area, just like everyone else. But every day, I remind myself I can do a little better; take more of a stand for what I know is right and take action on it. That’s all it takes: a decision to do it, a willingness to take action, the humility to admit you aren’t doing your best, the honestly to confront yourself for it, and the willingness to keep on doing what you know is right regardless of the consequences.

Yep, that’s it: it’s black or white.

Visit Larry’s website @ www.larrywinget.com

Larry’s new book is available at all the major bookstores and online retailers.

In the early 50’s famed artist George Petty drew and airbrushed the pin-up girls for Ridgid Tools popular calendars. According to the ASIFA Animation Hollywood Animation website:

George Petty was one of the top “cheesecake” illustrators of the 30s and 40s. He began his career with a series of cartoons featuring beautiful girls and their far from handsome beaus. His work coined the term “Petty Girls” to describe the carefully airbrushed girls with brilliant smiles and sexy poses. He left Esquire, to be replaced by Alberto Vargas who we will be featuring here soon, and became a freelance commercial artist. His girls soon ended up gracing magazine ads and calendars for such unlikely products as Tung-Sol Radio Tubes and the aptly named, Ridgid Tools.

Being a huge fan of nostalgia and retro stuff, I love this calendar art and so will you. An interesting note about the artist… He grew up working in his dad’s photography studio where airbrushing was common in the business, but not at all in illustration – until he applied the medium to drawings like these making Petty the pioneer of the technique for illustrators who followed.

Scroll down and check ‘em out…just gorgeous stuff!

VOTE FOR YOUR FAVORITE!

Tell us who happens to be your favorite RIDGID chick from years back. While March 1953 is incredibly suggestive for it’s day, I think November 1952 would have threaded my pipe with the most precision!

- Zman

Okay, So I Gathered a Few Photos, Below…

To call Denise Milani sexy is to say that Michelangelo was just some local guy who painted ceilings for a few extra bucks. Guys, this woman is the pinnacle in “stinkin” hot” and while I am an avid fan of cougars of the elder variety, I would gladly spend an evening or ten hanging with the woman who puts the B into buxom – and bossoms and breasts, boobs, bongos, and behemoth boulders.

Denise was born in the Czech Republic and now resides in sunny California, where at 5’ 4’’ her whopping 32 triple DDD’s can be confused for various mountains that protrude from the Golden State. Her bra is like the world’s largest piñata, filled with enough sweet candy to satisfy a party in Yankee Stadium. (I’d like to crack my stick at that.) At 29 years old it may have taken a while for her to gain recognition, but the gal is popping up (and out) all over, and we at Planet Zman just thought it was the right thing to do by sharing a few photos of this titanic topped bombshell.

Not only is Denise known for her sweater bombs, but that gorgeous face, sultry eyes, and alluring smile can cast a spell on men that no mere Siren could accomplish. Put the whole package together and this girl is stunning and will no doubt become a known name in modeling. I really don’t know why I’m writing this drivel as there is no doubt that you are glomming at the photos and have actually forgotten how to talk for a few brief moments.

Hey Denise… careful over there, you’re gonna put somebody’s eye out.

- ZMAN

Shwing! What more can a guy really say?

By Izzy Jaecks

For those of you guys who love the loaf but don’t cook, Izzy Jaecks brings us a recipe that even a primate could make…

Because everything’s better with bacon, a recipe to put a smile on that grizzly face…

I don’t cook beyond heating things.  I don’t even have a grill (or anywhere to use one) so if something is easy enough to ME to make, it’s easy enough for just about anyone to make.  There is almost no measuring to this, and I came up with the recipe just walking around the grocery store trying to think what would be good in meatloaf…. I call it “whole meal” because adding spinach and oatmeal make this a pretty balanced meal all in itself (I like one dish meals).  So I present my Stupid-Proof, Whole Meal Meatloaf:

2 lbs ground beef

1 can chopped tomatoes, mostly drained

8 oz fresh mushrooms, chopped

10 oz package of frozen spinach (thawed…)

3 raw eggs

1 packet soup mix

2 cups “old fashioned” oatmeal

And of course, the very best part of all… one entire package of delicious bacony flavored bacon!

The proportions are what you can find pre-packaged, and even the oatmeal you can just toss in a couple handfuls instead of measuring exactly. Mix it all together in no particular order, stuff it into a bread pan, weave bacon strips across the top and bake it for about an hour and a half at 375.  If there is any leftover mix that didn’t fit into the bread pan, just fry it up like a burger patty.

Variations:   use different kinds of ground meat – turkey, veal, pork… add cheese…

Trust me, you won’t need ketchup, it’s awesome all by itself—and DAMN it’s great as leftovers and sandwiches with some melted cheddar. After I make it I cut it up, chuck it into the freezer, and take pieces to work for lunch. Hey, I’d share some with your guys, but the Zman just devoured the whole pan full!

- Izzy

Since you’ve landed on this website, it means that there’s a 99% chance that you are of the male species. So the question is – Do you think of yourself as a “Man’s Man?” You probably already consider yourself in that company, but how can you “really” tell for sure? Well, the Zman has come up with a self-examination quiz that will accurately measure your levels of testosterone, guy thoughts, and man sweat.

It’s the Official Planet Zman Manly Man Quiz

The following 35 questions have been technically researched and verified for authenticity. So give us your answers fair and square, and see what kind of guy you really are. How much testosterone is in your tank? Lets find out, shall we?…

1. Have you seen the movies Slap Shot, Red Dawn, Weird Science, Clerks, Lost Boys, or High Plains Drifter in any combined order a total of 20 times?

2. Do you ever find yourself saying “Go get your f@#king shine box” at the most inappropriate times?

3. Have you smoked a cigar during a game of Texas Hold ‘Em anytime in the past 2 weeks?

4. Do you know who the team with the most victories in Monday Night Football history is?

5. Do you laugh aloud every time the giant rack of ribs flips the Flintstones car in the final credits?

6. Have you ever kissed the Stanley Cup?

7. Have you ever drank Budweiser from an ashtray, shoe, or a rubber?

8. Do you religiously head bang to the ending of Bohemian Rhapsody?

9. Do you have a favorite Motorhead song?

10. Have you ever been drilled in the cubes with a street hockey ball?

11. Do you find Paris Hilton a brutally skanky, bizarre, oddity, yet you’d hit it just the same?

12. Are you a normal law abiding good citizen, yet you get off on anyone who is pummeled, maimed, strangled, curbed, or cut up into pieces on the Sopranos?

13. Do you have any sorrow whatsoever for Bill Buckner?

14. Would you stop for a sack of White Castle Sliders even though you were on your way to your mom’s for Thanksgiving dinner?

15. Have you ever given nicknames to any of your farts?

16. Do scenes of John Travolta dressed in drag in the movie Hairspray give you convulsions or seizures?

17. Have you ever spent more than 30 minutes trying to delete pop-up windows during a random porn surf?

18. Three Stooges episode or Obama / Clinton debate?

19. Does the thought of having a Corvette, a Harley, and a Hummer in your driveway make you retard giddy?

20. Do you own more than three humidors?

21. Do you soil yourself each time Col. Jessup barks “YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH?”

22. When flipping through TV channels, do you pause each and every time on the Spanish station while trying to convince your significant other that it’s for educational purposes?

23. What do you think is heavier: Trying to figure out the meaning of life or Rosie O’donnell’s lunch bag?

24. Have you ever watched Das Boot and felt bad for the Germans?

25. Should cheeseburgers have their own box in the food pyramid?

26. Do you wish you could be Mikey from American Chopper for just one day?

27. Do you find it to be offensive when a woman displays major rack then covers up when you stare?

28. Do you still get awkwardly tense each time you hear Tommy DeVito ask, “What do you mean, I’m funny?…You mean the way I talk?…What’s funny about it?…What the f@#k is so funny about me? Tell me?”

29. Do you feel Harvey Fierstein should be held accountable for the gerbil shortage in French Guiana?

30. Bill & Ted, Harold & Kumar, or Jay and Silent Bob?

31. If it was ok with your significant other, would War Pigs be your wedding song?

32. Did you swear like a psycho drunken sailor and throw shit at your TV when the screen went to black during the Sopranos finale?

33. If Dr. Phil, Simon Cowell, and David Spade were killed in a mine shaft explosion would your immediate response would be, “huh, looks like rain today.”

34. Do you admit to drinking a glasses of ecoli laden raw eggs after you saw ROCKY for the first time?

35. Who’s on first?

OK, brothers, you’ve done your best. Good luck in your continual quest towards eternal manliness and may God bless your decrepit soul.

By Tommy Z.

Our very own Tommy Z reminisces about the plight of the Man’s Man. A while back, our fearless leader sat with tough-guy actor and Sopranos star Frank Vincent for his views on the subject.

I remember way back to when I was a very young child, my dad used the term “Man’s Man.” He spoke of guys like Sinatra, Bogart and Charlton Heston, Unitas, YA Tittle, Dimaggio, Mantle, Gordie Howe and Bobby Hull. They were “real” men – guys with character who exuded masculinity and had a certain edge about them. Back then it was definitely cool and you were looked up to if you embodied these qualities. But over the years, the politically correct do-gooders of society have almost forcefully eradicated this term and category of the male species. The great fear is that groups of people who do not fit that type of image such as effeminate men or homosexuals, geeks, nerds, and pocket calculator carrying brainiacs will feel excluded and take great offense – God knows, we just can’t have that. And one of the newest terms in our society coined by British journalist, Mark Simpsom is the much talked about metrosexual. On salon.com in July of 2002, Simpson was quoted as saying, “The typical metrosexual is a young man with money to spend, living in or within easy reach of a metropolis — because that’s where all the best shops, clubs, gyms and hairdressers are. He might be officially gay, straight or bisexual, but this is utterly immaterial because he has clearly taken himself as his own love object and pleasure as his sexual preference.”

Wow… this is the new cool? WTF happened to “Ah’ll be bock?”

The near extinction of the Man’s Man is a direct result of the agenda ridden crusaders of P.C. If it offends just one person, let’s give it the broad-brush treatment so that everyone can be happy and gay! I for one am sick of this mentality and was driven by an inner calling to stand up in the name of Men’s Men everywhere (kind of like when your sack is ready to bust because you have to pee really bad in the middle of the night). With all this talk of metrosexuals and the Queer Eye perspective, Men’s Men have become relegated to fourth-class citizenship facing certain extinction – that is, if we don’t stand up and make ourselves be heard.

One bona fide “real” man who whole-heartedly agrees with me wrote a book on the subject. Tough guy actor Frank Vincent, (the infamous Billy Batts in Goodfellas who told Joe Pesci to go home and get his fuckin’ shinebox, Casino, Raging Bull, and most recently psycho bastard, Phil Leotardo, Johnny Sack’s #2 man in the Sopranos) released a literary classic that should be owned by every living, breathing fan of this blog. ‘A Guy’s Guide to Being a Man’s Man’ is a fun, informative, and often times tongue-in-cheek look at what it takes for a guy to be a part of this esteemed classification. A while back I sat down with Frank for lunch and cigars and we talked about his theories behind the book.

I asked Frank point blank, what is the definition of the quintessential man’s man: “It’s a man who has dignity and respect – especially respect for women,” he noted, “And, he also displays the qualities of honor and loyalty. He must have self-respect and respect for others. Those are the assets that make up a real man’s man.”

One thing that Frank and I agree upon is that you don’t have to smoke cigars, drink, curse, surf porn sites or participate in dwarf-tossing competitions in order to be considered a real man (although, those activities do tend to heighten the testosterone levels significantly). There’s no requirement to know the lyrics to the Monty Python Lumberjack Song, and you need not physically transform yourself from the 98-pound weakling into the Charles Atlas prototype, as in the old comic book advertisements. So what then? Quite simply, it is more about an attitude – the way you think and the way you carry yourself. It’s really about who you are inside.

Guys – I say it’s time we show an outward pride in being real men. I really mean it. I say enough is enough, to the suffocating stranglehold of political correctness and those who perpetuate its inherent dangers. We have the constitutional right to speak our minds freely without persecution. If you don’t believe in same sex marriage that does not instantly qualify you as a queer hating homophobe. It makes you a person who has his own set of beliefs and choices. If you want to hunt, fish or wear a fur hat, it does not make you a murderer. If you want to surf the internet for porno sites, well, just make sure your history cache is deleted afterwards. (Those pop-up windows certainly do get a little hairy at times.) And if you choose to sit around all day Sunday in your underwear, watching football, scratching your boys, and sucking down Busch Light in cans… well, your wife is right – you are a lazy goddamned bastard. But gently remind her that it still doesn’t make you a homophobe.

Being Men’s Men doesn’t mean acting like sex-crazed, beer-swilling, Homer Simpson-esque Barbarians. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. Like Frank Vincent says, it’s about self-respect, honor and loyalty. And I’d say those are some pretty admirable qualities. I asked Frank, what final words he had for all the politically correct zealots who demand that we conform to their mediocre, metrosexual, smoke free, low-carb, un-opinionated, off-white, milquetoast world? He just smiled and said, “Very simple; do YOUR thing – but PLEASE show some tolerance and let other people do THEIR thing. Mind your own business and whatever you do; don’t infringe on my space.”

Well put my friend. I’ll light up a Hoyo Excaliber on that note.

And remember… If guns kill people, then spoons made Rosie O’donnell fat.

- ZMAN

You Got a Problem Wit Dat?

Yeah, I do. It’s sucks. It’s boring. And I’m really pissed because nobody’s gettin’ whacked. I was a Sopranos junkie… and for those of you who have never watched or followed the show, this is what life is now like for those of us who lived for the monumental series. On June 11, 2007, HBO aired the final episode of it’s all-time biggest hit, The Sopranos, and ever since then, Sunday nights without Tony, Carmela, Chris, Paulie, and Silvio just ain’t right.

Maybe you don’t like violence? Maybe you deplore gangsters. Maybe you’re the effeminate type and dig Desperate Houswives? Or maybe you’re just a cheap f@#k who won’t spend the coin for HBO? Whatever the reason, you’ve missed out on some of the finest acting and storylines the television world has ever known. The HBO series, which first aired in January of 1999, has become the most prolific drama in the history of television. In TV Guide’s list of the 50 Greatest Shows All-time, The Sopranos ranks number five, behind four legendary comedies: 1. Seinfeld, 2. Lucy, 3. The Honeymooners, and 4. All in the Family. It’s the highest rated cable series ever, and the only cable-show to win the Emmy for Outstanding Drama Series.

For some weirdo reason, perfectly nice everyday honest hard-working citizens were romantically addicted to the exploits of this brutal and violent crime family. Wonderful, law-abiding citizens worldwide were simply enamoured with Tony Soprano and his cast of goombas.“How in God’s name can you like that show?” I have been often asked. “Those people are are thieves, bullies, thugs, con men, philanderers, drug dealers, and ruthless, murdering psychopaths… yet, you love them? WTF?”

Again, for those of you who have never watched the series, for some unexplainable and disturbing reason …we could relate to them. SAY WHAT?! I know that sounds bizarre, but listen to me. The reason that regular everyday folks could relate to these people was because Tony and his family let you into their home and personal family lives. They didn’t live behind iron gates like the Corleones – they lived in suburban northern New Jersey, where mob boss Tony himself strolled down his driveway each and every morning to pick up the Newark Star Ledger. And that is where the brilliance of show creator David Chase comes in. He made them real people with real foibles and phobias. They may be Mafioso by day, but by night they return to their true families and face everyday issues like running a home, raising their kids, investing, paying taxes, dealing with prejudice, and caring for their health. In the past, mobsters were bigger than life as they gunned down their enemies in a blaze of bullets and fire on the silver screen. Tony Soprano visits his son’s guidance counselor, hosts family barbeques, protects his loved ones from a recurring black bear, and drives his daughter to visit a quaint New England college. (But of course while Meadow is visiting the campus, he crosses paths with an ex-mobster in the witness protection program – a guy who ratted – and Tony brutally strangles him with his bare hands. Gotta kill time somehow.)

There’s no denying whatsoever that the Sopranos are an abomination – a psychologically disturbed, ethically bankrupt, spiritually void gene pool. But, fans like myself are obsessed with their lives, and we love them unconditionally – as if they were of our own flesh and blood. When nine o’clock struck on Sunday nights and that magical, hypnotic theme song by the band A3 began to play… Bum, ba bum, bum, bum, wa wa wa…”Woke up this morning and got your self a gun…” like one of Pavlov’s dogs, I’d prop up in front of the TV in a semi-lathered state as Tony drove through the Jersey side of the Lincoln Tunnel, lighting his cigar, pulling the Turnpike ticket from the booth, cruising past, Pizzaland, Satriale’s Pork Store, and the rows of refinery tanks in lovely Newark. For the next 60 minutes, you couldn’t help but become are a blood sworn Soprano.

And now…Sunday nights are a bore. No pre-show pasta and canolis. No cigars with red wine. No hearing the F-word sixty-some odd times within an hour. Nobody getting shot, strangled, beaten, flogged, shoveled, maimed or curbed. No dead go-go dancers, burned up racehorses, pony-tailed assassins, or severed heads in a bowling ball bag… nothin’. Just boring ol’ Sunday night, sitting around with the loved ones.

How uncivilized.

- Zman

Some of you may think that Jason Vorhees of Friday the Thirteenth fame, was the orginator of the hockey mask. Well, puck breath, that ain’t quite right. You see, it was actually a French Canadian by the name of Jacques Plante, who first donned a goaltenders face mask on November 1, 1959. And this Sunday marks the 50th anniversary since Plante debuted his facial ware – and quite the coincidence, it was exactly one day after Halloween.

Goalies didn’t wear masks back in that time, but the man they referred to as Jake the Snake , was about to change NHL history. Just three minutes into a game against the New York Rangers at Madison Square Garden, Plante’s face was sliced open with an Andy Bathgate wristshot, delaying the game for 21 minutes as the Habs netminder lay on the ice in a pool of his own blood. After a trip to the locker room and a bunch of gnarly stitches, he returned to the ice, astonishing both fans and the players. And even more astonishing, the goaltender finished the game with a 3-1 victory over the Rangers.

It’s simply amazing that goalies of that era who faced beasts like Gordie Howe and Bobby Hull didn’t wear face and head protection. Plante and other names like Terry Sawchuck, Johnny Bower,  Glenn Hall, Eddie Johnston, and Gump Worsley may just have been the toughest and most fearless sons of bitches in all of sport.

Back in the 60’s, goalies started to slowly adopt the idea of a mask as a part of their equipment, even though they were crude fiberglass plates with eye holes and straps. Today’s masks are made of carbon fiber space-age material designed by engineers, with the sole purpose of stopping a cruise missile. And with guys Alex Ovetchkin on the ice, that just may be a really good idea.

Read some truly great stuff about the late Jacques Plante and this historic anniversary in sport at the NHL’s official website.

CLICK HERE>NHL.com/Jacques Plante

- ZMAN