TV Review: Star Wars Rebels : “Zero Hour” – What Jedi Devilry Is This?

* This review contains spoilers. 

The third season's finale of Star Wars Rebels had just about everything we fans could want – an epic space battle, a pernicious villain, heroic action from our Jedi, and the element of human trial and error that can make or break the rebellion.

That said, the two-part “Zero Hour” had to follow in the wake of last week’s powerful “Twin Suns,” the season’s penultimate episode featuring the long awaited battle between Obi Wan Kenobi (Stephen Stanton) and Maul (Sam Witwer). Still, this finale did have enough of everything that keeps Padawan hearts beating fast and, as the storyline keeps moving forward, we have the inevitable collision with characters from Rogue One and A New Hope, which are like enticing Easter eggs we can’t help but love finding.

The concern that keeps popping up in my mind is a great villain like Admiral Thrawn (dastardly played by Lars Mikkelsen) and the equally great Jedi Kanan Jarrus (Freddy Prinze Jr.) and his Padawan Ezra Bridger (Taylor Gray) are nowhere to be seen in A New Hope. Thrawn would seem to be quite integral to the Empire’s plans, especially since he frequently communications with Grand Moff Tarkin (Stephen Stanton) who is a key figure in A New Hope. Why would Thrawn not be involved unless he were dead?

Kanan, Ezra, and the rest of The Ghost crew are now equally integral to the rebellion – even rubbing elbows with the iconic figures Mon Mothma (Genevieve O’Reilly) and Jan Dodonna (Michael Bell) – that it seems incongruous to think of them not being around when Han, Luke, Leia, and company come on board to join the rebels, unless they are dead. That prospect is upsetting, but then again an explanation could be that both Imperial forces and the rebel alliance are widespread, and thus Thrawn and the crew of The Ghost certainly could be deployed elsewhere during the original trilogy.

Getting back to “Zero Hour,” we see Thrawn take on undercover Agent Callus (a terrific David Oyelowo) and capture him, and then he begins the plot to destroy the rebel fleet stationed at Atollon.  Thrawn, no doubt owing his blue skin to the ice in his veins, is the best villain in three seasons of Star Wars Rebels (if you don’t count appearances by Darth Vader), and his cunning and brilliant plan has been to get to know his enemies before destroying them.

On Atollon the rebels are preparing to attack the imperial forces on Lothal, and Ezra is happy to see this plan to liberate his home planet coming together. He shares a crucial scene with Kanan, where the Jedi master reveals that he is not sure there is anything more that he can teach Ezra. The Padawan responds by saying that Kanan (now blind due to an attack by Maul) has taught him more than just the Force – he has taught him about life. It is wonderful to see how the relationship has grown between these two and how Kanan now fully respects Ezra as his partner.

Once the rebels discover that Kallus has been compromised, they realize their attack on Lothal is not possible and that an evacuation of Atollon must happen immediately. In orbit above the planet Commander Sato (Keone Young) is surprised to see five Star Destroyers appear, and with his small contingent of ships knows that he is trapped.

The Battle of Atollon begins with the rebels, as usual, badly outgunned and outnumbered, but Hera (Vanessa Marshall) believes if she can get word out to the larger rebellion force out there that things can be salvaged. She sends Ezra on a desperate mission to get this extra help, while Kanan seeks a different kind of support in the desert of the planet.

While Sato and his small fleet put up a valiant fight above, Kanan goes to meet Bendu (Tom Baker) and things do not go so well. Though the Jedi has established a rapport with the powerful being who exists somewhere in the middle of the light and dark side of the Force, Bendu is angry and blames Kanan for bringing war to his planet. Instead of getting Bendu’s help, Kanan receives his wrath and a small sample of the scope of Bendu’s powers when his eyes illuminate and he churns up a dust storm.

On his journey in hyperspace, Ezra reaches Mon Mothma via hologram, but the wise leader of the rebellion warns Ezra that Thrawn is counting on the rest of the force to come to Atollon to destroy it in its entirety. Ezra realizes this is true, but then seeks help from old crewmate Sabine Wren (Tiya Sicar) who to his dismay is too busy helping her fellow Mandalorians fighting a civil war. When Ezra believes things are hopeless he prepares to leave, but Sabine changes her mind and convinces her mother, Countess Ursa Wren, to send ships and troops to help the rebels.

The final battle is fierce and spectacular – on the ground and in space – just what we would expect along with the heroism of the outnumbered rebel force. When it looks as if the Empire is going to have a victory in space, Ezra and Sabine arrive and prepare to clear a way for the rebel ships to escape.

On the ground Thrawn uses three AT-ATs and TIE fighters to pummel the rebels, eventually surrounding them with his force of Death Troopers (first seen in Rogue One). He demands Hera’s surrender and prepares to start killing her people with Kanan to be the first one, but streaks of lightning shake his resolve as he utters “What Jedi devilry is this?” That should serve as a classic line to be repeated from this point forward.

The “devilry” is Bendu, his glowing eyes in a black cloud that manifests itself powerfully, destroying the AT-ATs while the lightning takes out some of his troops. “Leave this place,” Bendu’s voice thunders, and this disruption allows Hera, Kanan, and the rest to get to their ships and escape.

After the initial shock, Thrawn is not impressed by this and orders the rest of his men to fire at Bendu, eventually causing him to collapse. The sinister Thrawn stares at the fallen being with disdain as Bendu warns, “I see your defeat.” Thrawn shoots Bendu but instead of killing him it causes him to vanish (ala Obi Wan and Yoda), making us believe that he has now become one with the Force.

In the end Hera rescues Kallus who escapes the Imperial ship in a pod, and the team is reunited. They are mourning because some of the rebels were lost during this battle, including Sato, but now they have to make plans to join the rest of the rebels on Yavin (yes, that rebel base on that planet), getting us closer to the events of A New Hope.

Kanan discovers a disenchanted Ezra, who is upset that his home planet could not be liberated. The episode ends with Ezra saying, “There is a future for us, one where we’re all free, but it’s up to us to make it happen.”

Overall, season three has been satisfying, but there certainly was the feeling that the impact of season two’s Ashoka-Darth Vader arc hung heavily over it. With their bruising light saber battle ending last season’s finale, it would have been hard for anything to top that – though the Obi Wan-Maul duel in episode 20 came pretty darn close.

For now it is exciting to see the convergence of Rebels, Rogue One, and A New Hope stories this season, and no doubt we can expect more of that in season four (due later this year). I must confess I did not have high hopes for this series initially, but the stories are so strong and with its indelible characters Rebels is now an essential part of the Star Wars canon. I really look forward to watching it each week (since it is animated, I make the excuse that I am watching it with my son). The truth is that Star War Rebels is so good that it is fitting entertainment for fans of all ages.

Until next time, may the Force be with you!

TV Review: Star Wars Rebels: “Twin Suns” – Saving the Chosen One

*This review contains spoilers.

My reasons for watching Disney’s animated series Star Wars Rebels are twofold – it makes connections to the other animated series The Clone Wars and, more importantly, with the Star Wars films, but it also gives me a chance each week to bond with my young son over our mutual love of all things Jedi. That said, season 3 episode 20 – “Twin Suns” – is well beyond just any episode but rather a defining moment not only for this series but the mythology of the entire franchise.

The title “Twin Suns” refers literally to the two suns of the planet Tatooine, but figuratively can be seen to represent two Jedi sons Ezra Bridger (Taylor Gray) and Luke Skywalker (in this episode a shadow seen only from a distance). These Jedi must go in separate directions to fulfill their destinies, and protector Obi Wan Kenobi (Stephen Stanton sounding more like Alec Guinness than seems possible) must see to it that both stay safe.

The looming threat in this episode is (the former Darth) Maul, voiced convincingly by Sam Witwer, who through The Clone Wars and then Star Wars Rebels has been seeking Obi Wan to exact his revenge (for being sliced in half during the film The Phantom Menance). Maul’s entire arc through that film and the two series has been used to illustrate the depth of the dark side’s power and evil, and Maul’s attempt to enroll Ezra as his “apprentice” connects with the mythology of the Sith once defined by Yoda as “There’s always two: no more, no less.”

Yet Maul can be seen as trying to relinquish his ties to the Emperor (also Witwer) and become a different type of follower of the dark side of the force, if not actually Sith, and using it to his full advantage as he lures Ezra to Tatooine in order to bring Obi Wan out of hiding.

Writers Dave Filoni and Henry Gilroy have great respect for the Star Wars canon, and it is never more obvious than in this episode that carefully weaves threads from the films and both TV series into a dramatic fabric that is quite effective. Ezra has a vision, inspired by Maul, that Obi Wan is in danger, and then he defies Hera (Vanessa Marshall) and Kanan (Freddie Prinze Jr.) when they tell him they need him to stay put and fight for the rebellion (which they do).

Ezra, always impetuous and still learning the ways of the Force, decides to heed the call anyway, which makes perfect sense for his character. With intrepid droid Chopper as a stowaway he blasts off for Tatooine without thinking – his confrontation with Maul would obviously end in disaster if it were to take place.

Maul wanders the desert of Tatooine waiting for Ezra to arrive, and when he does so is immediately attacked by Sand People, but just like Obi Wan saving Luke from them in A New Hope, Maul saves Ezra from them here, but not before they destroy his ship and any chances of escape.

Chopper is eventually incapacitated by a dust storm and Ezra collapses, only to wake up and find that Obi Wan has saved him. This allows the characters a chance to talk – the erstwhile Jedi master and the apprentice who looks up to him as an idol. Though their encounter is brief, Obi Wan’s wisdom is not lost on Ezra. This momentous interaction has to change Ezra, help him refine his views, and bring him closer to the Force.

Maul appears as we and Obi Wan know he would, and Obi Wan quickly sends Ezra and Chopper off to make their escape. The “battle” we have been anticipating since these two faced off in The Clone Wars has finally arrived, and there is some banter between the two, with Maul condescendingly saying, “Look what you have become – a desert rat.”

But we know that all this time Obi Wan has not just been wallowing in the desert. He has been there as a protector of Luke Skywalker all this time, and he has also been perfecting his connection to the Force and his Jedi skills. Thus, the battle with Maul is not a long, drawn out one as between Ahsoka Tano (Ashley Eckstein) and Darth Vader (James Earl Jones) in the season 2 finale, which was a battle of almost equals. Here Obi Wan (not surprisingly) quickly dispatches Maul after Maul surmises that he is protecting someone on the planet.

As he dies in the arms of his opponent, there is a moment of illumination for Maul but not redemption – he asks Obi Wan if he has been protecting the Chosen One. Obi Wan admits that he has been, and Maul expires wrongly thinking that the Chosen One will bring about his revenge, but Obi Wan knows otherwise. The Chosen One’s purpose has always been to bring balance to the Force.

So, after eight films and two TV series, we finally get confirmation of what many of us have suspected – Anakin Skywalker was never the Chosen One; it was always going to be his son Luke. Based on what we know from Return of the Jedi, that film does so much as validate that fact. Though Darth Vader throws the Emperor to his death, his motivation is to save Luke. Vader dies knowing that he has prepared the way for his son to bring balance of the Force to fruition.

Star Wars fans should be delighted as I am with this episode. The mythology of the Chosen One has long hovered over the entire franchise, with the dramatic irony of characters in the prequels believing Anakin was the Chosen One, but his turn to the dark side always seemed too easy, while Luke’s resistance to it – even in the face of death – clearly establishes him as the one.

It will be interesting to see how Star Wars: The Last Jedi (December 2017) will connect with this revelation. It was once assumed that Obi Wan was the last Jedi, and that we know was wrong. We also do not know where some other Jedi may be – as Ezra, Kanan, and Ashoka are still out there as of now – after this series ends and the years progress through the original trilogy to the new film. We also should assume that Rey (Daisy Ridley) is also a Jedi based on The Force Awakens, so the title of the new film may be a misnomer, but we will have to see.

The end moments of “Twin Suns” are most compelling and deeply meaningful ones – Obi Wan watches the moisture farm where Luke grew up from afar, those setting suns on the horizon as they were in A New Hope when teenage Luke stared at them and thought about his future. At this time Obi Wan hears the familiar voice of Aunt Beru (archived voice of Shelag Fraser from A New Hope) calling, “Luke, Luke…” and in the distance we see the shadow running home across the field. Cue John Williams’ enthralling music (and the lump in my throat), and we have just been treated to a most compelling connection to the films that feels unforgettable.

I am looking forward to next week’s season finale, but it will have to go a long way to surpass this penultimate episode that made necessary connections, strengthened Obi Wan’s legend, and helped to shape Ezra’s story arc. In my opinion season 3’s episode 20 is the most important and memorable one to date in Star Wars Rebels, but that may change next week as the rebellion and the Empire prepare for battle.

Until next time, may the Force be with you.  

A St. Patrick’s Day Song for the Bishop - A Short Story by Victor Lana

It had always been said that “Smiling Jack” Doyle could make any man – or woman for that matter – cry when he sang “Oh Danny Boy,” his deep and robust voice quivering ever so slightly throughout, causing hearts to flutter and eventually tears to flow.

On a cold Brooklyn night a week before St. Patrick’s Day, Jack sat at his usual table in Dolan’s Pub surrounded by several friends. At 47 his once gaunt and handsome face had become red and swollen, and the lean physique had been subsumed by the current bloated version he saw in the mirror each morning.

Business was booming at the accounting firm Jack had inherited from his father, and he was proud that he put his kids through Catholic schools and sent Jack Junior to Notre Dame and Deirdre to the University of Delaware. He had pictures of them in his wallet that he proudly showed people after a few pints, and he told everyone that life had been good to him.

Old man Dolan came over to the table wiping his hands on a bar towel. “Gents, may I speak with Jack for a moment, please?”

Tim Finnegan looked up from his glass of Old Bushmills and said, “We’ve all been friends since kindie-garten, Bill. We have no secrets.”

Dolan frowned and pointed to the giant bouncer Rob Rooney at the door. “I need to speak to Jack alone. Go away or you can go home.”

“Have it your way, Bill,” Tim said taking his drink and leading the others to the far corner of the bar.

“So what did I do now?” Jack asked.

Bill sat down. “I’ve got a big favor to ask you actually.”

Jack sipped his Guinness and downed a shot of whiskey. “Well, you know I’d do anything for you, Bill.”

Bill whispered,” I want you to sing this Friday night.”

Jack laughed, “But I always sing without an invitation, Bill.”

“This is different.”

“I can hardly hear ya, Billy-boy.” Jack leaned closer to him. “I feel like I’m in confession.”

“Funny you should say that,” Bill said. “You will be singing for the bishop.”

Jack’s eyes widened and his face turned almost purple. “The bishop?”

“Yes, he is coming for dinner and personally requested that you sing ‘Oh Danny Boy.’”

“How did the bishop hear about me?”

“McCrae says the bishop saw that story on New York 1. Seems you’re getting famous, Jack.”

“I guess,” Jack sighed.

“So, will you do it, Jack?”

Jack sipped his drink and nodded. “It will be my honor.”

*

Three days had passed and Bill hadn’t seen Jack in the pub, so he sent Rooney to check on him.

Maureen Doyle answered the door, her green eyes shining in the sunlight. “What do you want here?”

Rooney, despite his size, was extremely shy especially around women. “I…I’m checking if Jack’s alright.”

Maureen dug her fists into her hips. “Alright? He is mortified about singing for the bishop. He’s not eating or sleeping and what’s worse he’s not drinking.”

“Oh, my,” Rooney moaned.

“He’s driving me nuts! Tell that to your boss.” Maureen slammed the door and turned to see 

Jack looking out the back window. “Jack, why don’t you go to the office for a few hours or the pub?”

Jack turned to her, his lips quivering. “I can’t drink a drop until I sing for the bishop. I need to be thinking clearly as to not mess up the words.”

Maureen went to him and touched his hot red cheek. “You’ve sung that song hundreds of times.”

“But this will be the first time for the bishop.”

“Okay,” Maureen turned to walk away and looked back at him, “but you have never sung in public without needing a few drinks first. Think about that.”

*

St. Patrick’s Day came and the pub was overflowing with people. The Kerry Brothers Band was performing, and platters of corned beef and cabbage kept coming out from the kitchen. As Kenny Kerry crooned, “I’m looking over a four-leafed clover…” Jack Doyle walked into the pub and everything stopped.

Dolan came running up to him looking at his watch. “I thought you weren’t coming. The bishop will be here in five minutes!”

Jack wore a suit and green tie; the collar of his shirt was dark with sweat. “I’m…here.”

Bill pointed at Kenny and barked, “Play some music.”

Jack went to the end of the bar and sat down. Dolan quickly poured him a pint and set a glass of whiskey next to it. “Do yourself a favor, Jack, and have a drink.”

“No, I must not,” Jack said.

The bishop came wearing his black suit and white collar followed by several priests. An empty table waited for him directly in front of the stage, and he sat down and ordered a glass of wine and corned beef and cabbage. All conversations and the music stopped; you could hear a pin drop all the way to Dublin.

Jack went on stage, took the microphone from Kenny, and stared at the bishop. “It is an honor to sing for you tonight, Your Excellency.” The band began playing. Jack sang, “Oh, Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling…” By the time he had finished, the bishop used his napkin to dry the tears on his cheeks.

Later that night Jack sat at the bar staring at the same pint and whiskey Dolan had poured for him earlier. The bishop had left, the band kept playing, and the crowd had become rambunctious.

“You’ve sung it many times, but that’s your best performance, Jack,” Bill said.

“Thank you,” Jack said.

Bill lifted his pint and said, “It’s over now; you made bishop cry! You need a good stiff drink.”

Jack got up, adjusted his tie, and said, “I’ll have my next drink when I want one and don’t need one.” Jack left the pub through the back door to avoid the crowd and walked home whistling “Danny Boy.”

Movie Review: Kong: Skull Island – Two Out of Four Bananas

Director Jordan Vogt-Roberts’ Kong: Skull Island is the type of big summer blockbuster audiences crave, except that this is still winter. He gets the blockbuster part right, however, thanks to excellent CGI and the big lug at the heart of the film. King Kong has always connected with audiences in his various incarnations, not because he is big and powerful, but rather that he is an innocent wronged by greedy humans who wish to exploit.

Nothing against Tom Hiddleston (James Conrad), Samuel L. Jackson (chewing more scenery than Kong as Colonel Preston Packard), and Brie Larson (award-winning photographer Mason Weaver) and the rest of the human cast, but this is Kong’s movie. Part of the problem is that Vogt-Roberts and writers Dan Gilroy and Max Borenstein have made the human cast so one dimensional, with little exploration of their characters. Only John C. Reilly’s Hank Marlow (a World War II pilot who crashed on the island and has been marooned there for 28 years) is given a back story and lines that make him somewhat interesting.

Kong: Skull Island seems to be something like the child of Predator and Land of the Lost. The CGI action scenes featuring Kong in battle against various other oversized creatures – who knew the big ape enjoyed eating giant calamari – are the best parts of the film. The humans fall into various kinds of stock characters, and I am not sure if the writers were playing with idea of giving them more to do or not, but particularly Larsen’s Weaver seems lost and has a perplexed rather than a frightened expression on her beautiful face as she gazes at these gigantic beasts, making us wonder if she too doesn’t have clue as to her character’s motivation.

Without giving too much away, the cold opening involves Marlow and a Japanese pilot (Miyavi) crashing on Skull Island during World War II. As they battle each other on the ground, they are interrupted by the roar and then the enormous face of King Kong staring at them, which sort of changes the playing field.

Flash forward to 1973 and Bill Randa (John Goodman) and Houston Brooks (Corey Hawkins) go to Washington D.C. to see a senator to try to raise funds for an expedition to the unchartered Skull Island. After some wrangling they get their money, and since the Vietnam War is ending they get a military escort in the form of Packard and his men, who should be going home but sign on for one more mission. Randa and Brooks also bring Conrad along for his expertise in tracking, and Weaver is hoping to chronicle the action and gain more notoriety. Of course, we’re thinking she is the requisite blonde we have known since Fay Wray and that Kong is going to have to walk around with her in his huge paw at some point – which, of course, he does.

The rest of the story pretty much is textbook action fare, except that it all looks so wonderful. Chris Brenczewski’s special effects along with Larry Fong’s cinematography paint a beautiful lost world indeed, and there has never been a more believable Kong in the fluidity of his movements, the hair raising on his neck, the steam of breath coming from his mouth, and the benevolence of his beautiful eyes that makes us know he is no monster.

There is some attempt to make Packard a kind of Ahab figure and Kong his Moby Dick, but there is just not enough in the script for any of it to seem valid. Hiddleston and Larson look great but lack any chemistry, and the best moments are when Kong realizes that all humans are not bad and acts way more humane than Randa and Packard possibly could.

Besides Kong there are a slew of other enormous beasts on this island – a battle with giant spiders is perhaps the best sequence of humans fighting back – but most of the time the characters get in each other’s way and do things that make no sense. Packard’s insistence on finding one lost man is not only illogical but foolish, and the only excuse could be that Ahab thing, but it doesn’t work for me.

Clearly this is Kong’s show and, while he could have pounded his chest and roared a few more times, Kong and his interaction with the other spectacular beasts is worth the price of admission. Unfortunately, when the most frightening thing in the movie is a Richard Nixon bobble-head on a helicopter dashboard, you know something is missing.

Still, due to the great depiction of Kong, I give Kong: Skull Island two out of four bananas. I just hope Kong doesn’t get too comfortable because I have a feeling that a formidable opponent named Godzilla may be darkening the shores of his island in the near future. If that pairing occurs, can Mothra be far behind?

Daylight Saving Time – Saves Neither Day or Time

If you are like me and many other people, the whole concept of Daylight Saving Time makes you very angry, confused, and tired. The loss of an hour seems unforgivable, even when considering you are giving back the hour you got in November. Some say this is a fair equation, but in my mind it is like Santa Claus asking me to give back a gift, but the Jolly Old Elf  never does that.

No one ever said Father Time was a fair guy; in fact, he is one cruel fellow with the way he treats people. Only an extremely pernicious mind could make fifteen minutes in the dentist’s chair seem like an eternity and a fifteen-minute break at work seem like a blink of an eye. He has to be pretty twisted to manipulate time that way.

Even so we humans are the ones who devised this concept of Daylight Saving Time – no, it’s not Daylight Savings Time – invented by Benjamin Franklin who should have stuck to flying kites dangling keys in lightning and writing almanacs. Alas, it figures eventually we would adopt his concept of “saving time” which is just an illusion of making a day longer in order for night to be shorter. In essence, that is the real purpose of this annual debacle that more than half of the world does not observe.

The problem with putting the clocks ahead an hour seems salient – we lose an hour of sleep as Father Time sneaks around changing clocks like a cheap Santa Claus who doesn’t even leave us anything – and then the alarm rings and we are up at seven o’clock, but the world outside our windows is still dark and the little timer in our brains is telling us that it is six and not seven o’clock.

Besides this feeling of being victims of Father Time’s theft, there are other insidious problems with this lost hour that include an increase in heart attacks, driving accidents, and sleep problems. This can also cause people to suffer Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), which is a serious state of depression.

The supporters of Daylight Saving Time go on and on about its benefits – a longer day, more time outside rather than inside, later sunsets in order to enjoy barbecues, and the list goes on. The downside is never considered. Why do we artificially lengthen the day when there is so much to appreciate and enjoy about the night? Especially in summer when we can take the time to gaze at the stars, roast marshmallows, and enjoy a respite from the hot day. In summer night is like a soft kiss while the day can seem like a punch in the kisser.

I think we should hold to Standard Time all year round. As it is, time is different for all Americans anyway. It is why everyone is all giddy in LA at the Oscars while we here in New York are bleary eyed trying to stay up to see what film wins Best Picture. Putting the clocks ahead one hour does nothing to change that.

Staying in Standard Time would avoid these shocks to our system twice a year, and it would be nice to actually get up and go to work in daylight and come home in daylight too.

As it is, time is an illusion and always has been since the sun dial and the hour glass. We quantify time in order to constrict the day and structure the night. While we may manipulate hours like this in order for some semblance of control, the truth is that Father Time is beyond human interference and marches to the beat of his own drummer, incessantly moving at a pace that pleases only him.

Of course, like everyone else, I will dutifully put my clocks ahead one hour and then grumble tomorrow morning and Monday morning and on into the week. Like after taking a long plane ride through time zones, it will take a few days to adjust, and then the sheep will keep moving in and out of subway cars, automobiles, and buses. We will go to work and school and come home and forget that we have been robbed of an hour. Ignorance is bliss indeed!

New York’s Wacky Winter Weather Continues

One day this week I was walking around in shorts and a T-shirt, and the next day I had to bundle up like a polar explorer. This weird New York winter has featured the most fluctuation in temperature that I can ever remember and, according to the meteorologists, none of this is going to change anytime soon.

Back in December dreaming of a white Christmas seemed an impossibility because of the temperate weather. In January – forget about the traditional thaw – we had balmy days and nights, but then some wicked winter weather came flowing in from the north and it was parka time.

We all got fooled once again when that fickle fink Punxsutawney Phil saw his fat little shadow and proclaimed six more weeks of winter, but I have never trusted that glorified rodent anyway. Ever since Groundhog Day, New York has been on a weather roller coaster and I want to get off.

Years ago, I used to have a great system. I would make room in my closets and drawers by bringing my summer clothing down to the basement storage area and bring my winter clothing upstairs. That worked for a long time, but now I find myself raiding the bin for shorts and T-shirts. On some days I am running outside in shorts, hitting the cold air, and then going back to throw on a winter coat. Going to the store in a winter coat and cargo shorts definitely gets some strange reactions from people, but that's what this wacky winter is doing to me.

Still, today when I went outside for the morning paper, the wind hit me like a frozen hammer. I know Chicago is called the Windy City, but lately we are being pummeled by 40 to 50-mile-an-hour winds that are knocking down trees, blowing garbage cans across state lines, and making the wind-chill factor positively polar.

Physically people are being challenged by this weather, but the psychological damage is more overwhelming. If I go out with a light jacket in the morning because it is 60 degrees, I am not certain I won’t need my parka by evening because the weather keeps shifting so dramatically. If I don’t plan ahead, I am freezing my tuchus off all the way home. Not knowing how to dress each day is not only annoying but can be stressful, and compound that with the fact that people are already depressed because of the gloomy weather that keeps being briefly and cruelly interrupted by these summer like 70 degrees days.

Yesterday the cold swept back into New York, and this morning my handy dandy kitchen digital thermometer (which has a sensor located outside and inside) indicated the house was 70 degrees but the porch outside was just 15 degrees. Despite these arctic conditions, I was determined to keep to my morning routine.

At the local coffee shop, where I can go get a cup of joe and a bagel with a schmeer but also hear an array of opinions on everything happening in politics and sports, everyone’s favorite topic to complain about is always the weather.

There I usually encounter the all-knowing Manny, the old Brooklyn Dodgers fan who still has a patch of grass taken from Ebbets Field in a window box outside his apartment window. Yesterday he was wearing an LA Dodgers cap, a Mets sweatshirt, Jets sweatpants, and Knicks gloves (his NY Rangers jacket hung over the back his chair) as he sat at the table reading the NY Post and drinking a cup of coffee.

I like to kid around with Manny, whose face is like the late Abe Vigoda’s but less happy looking, so this morning I walked up to him and he glanced at me and then looked back at the newspaper.

"Are the Rangers making the playoffs?"

"Is Macy's in Herald Square?"

I asked, “What are the Mets’ chances this year, Manny?”

“Snowball in hell, as always. Wright is done and they got pitchers with glass arms.”

“How about the Knicks making the playoffs?”

“Ha,” he snickers, “maybe when the fans run Jackson out of town on a rail.”

“How about the Jets letting all these guys go?”

“It’s a fire sale,” Manny chuckles. “They might as well get Tebow back because he’s better than what they got and he's not going anywhere with the Metsies.”

Now I am ready to ask the most pressing question. “What do you think about this crazy weather? Is it global warming?”

He doesn’t look up from his paper. “I don’t know about this global warming crap, but one day I’m sweating my balls off and the next day I got icicles on my nose. I don’t know if I’m coming or going anymore.”

As usual, Manny sums things up succinctly. I said "Goodbye" to Manny, zipped up my parka as I left the coffee shop, and battled the freezing wind that hit me like a nasty left hook every time I turned a corner. Now, I understood why this winter has me feeling so off kilter. One day it’s like a soft, warm kiss and the next day like a cold, hard punch, making me uncertain whether I should be leaning forward or getting ready to duck.

Sixteen days left until spring, but who’s counting?