FOUND!

Oliver Muirhead, from filmdope.com

After a few more searches, I was able to track down the real Tombstone Pizza star. His name is Oliver Muirhead. An English actor, his other credits include small roles in various Disney shows, Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me, MVP: Most Vertical Primate, LOST and numerous voice roles in video games, including Zork: Grand Inquisitor.

I updated his wikipedia page to highlight his work in culinary marketing.

Have you seen this man?

I'm not sure how my mind boarded its current train of thought, so don't ask. But in the past, I recall it has gotten on at each of the following stations: thinking about the classic Oregon Trail video game, deciding on a frozen pizza for dinner and seeing random glimpses of faces on TV.

Confused?

Let me explain. I've been on a search for the name of an actor. You may be wondering how those three seemingly unconnected instances all lead to my trying to figure out who this guy is?

The answer is simple--Tombstone Pizza.

We all remember those classic Tombstone pizza commercials from the early 90's, where a guy is about to be executed in some way, and when asked what he would like on his tombstone, swiftly and snarkily replies something like "pepperoni and cheese."

The Oregon Trail connection, of course, comes in when a member of your travel party succumbs to typhus, cholera, broken leg, snakebite or some other incurable illness, and you are forced to bury them beside the trail. Stupidly, in at least one version of the game, the game designers inserted a feature where one could add an epitaph to the grave marker. Needless to say, many mourners later stopped to view memorials etched with such touching remembrances as "Here lies Pepperoni," "Sausage," or my personal favorite, "The Ox We Were Forced to Slaughter Due to Starvation."

Here is where I need your help. View this circa 1995 commercial, and tell me who the heck the mustached man sinking into quicksand is. I remember him appearing in other commercials, including one for Schnuck's or some other grocery store, as well as in bit parts in many TV shows. For a while, I was almost convinced it was acclaimed Northern-Irish theatrical actor/director Kenneth Branagh, but highly doubt that now after googling many variants of "Kenneth Branagh Tombstone Pizza Commercial" and finding nothing of value.

On a side note, I did discover this gem, a 1992 installment of the commercial series featuring a very young Don Stark as the imperiled aficionado of frozen pizza-like item.

And the Oscar for Best Picture goes to...

The big-award buzz this year has been all about Benjamin Button, Frost/Nixon, and other epic features. It was a bit of a surprise, then, when little-known Slumdog Millionaire took the top prize at the Golden Globes.

But it appears another darkhorse has entered the picture. Combining crisp editing with hand-held styling gives a real sense of authenticity to this short journo-docu-drama from a rookie director. Guess we'll just have to wait and see...

Last Word?

So today was an eventful day. Besides the seemingly unavoidable stress associated with every Monday, today was going to be a busy one for me from the outset. I was to go to our weekly staff meeting, then quickly scoot out and head across town to campus for a follow-up meeting with some folks from the school psych program for a feature piece I'm writing for Madison Magazine. After a quick lunch, I had another meeting set up with biotechnology prof Bob McKown, a pioneering researcher on the eye protein lacritin, for a follow-up piece on a Madison Scholar story from a few years ago. That's a pretty full day for me.

Of course, fate threw me a curveball Saturday night. Sunday morning, after I'd had my morning cup and consumed my weekly rations of George Stephanopoulos and Charles Osgood, I was going to run to the store to get a few items. I hopped in my car and began to back out when I felt a slight drag on my front tires. I though I was just running over some chunky gravel and would be past it in a second. Then I heard an unsettling fffwump-fffwump. I knew I wouldn't be heading to the store quite yet.

I got out, looked and saw my front driver's-side tire, more deflated than the 401-Ks of Bernie Madoff's investors. Not knowing anything about cars, I called Greg to have him come look at it and see if it was repairable. (Clarification: I can change a tire and could have on my own, but thought I'd consult Greg first to see if we thought it was patchable or totally shot.) He and Sarah were heading to Costco to pick up a new sectional sofa anyway, so they stopped by and picked me up. We got back later, and after changing the tire, noticed a giant screw sticking out of the offending tire. A relief, indeed. It appeared easily patchable.

I left the spare on until this morning, when I got up a little early and headed to Midas before work. I dropped the bad tire off, pointing out the screw, and got assurances from the mechanic that he could patch it and I could pick it up later in the day. Good thing, because, as I mentioned, I had some driving around campus to do. About 15 minutes after arriving at work, I got a call on my cell, and I knew I was dunfer. It was the mechanic, and he said the tire had been patched once before and that the screw had not even fully punctured the tire. Basically, the tire was shot, and I needed a new one. So I decided to pony up for two brand-spankin' new ones. What began as a routine, $35 procedure wound up costing me nigh $300. At least maybe I'm spurring the economy.

Fortunately, our staff meeting was canceled, leaving me a little time to head back to the shop before my 10:30. I got over there and they went to work. I think. I couldn't really tell, you know they always keep you in the waiting room while they go into the garage. Again, what began as a routine, 35-minute procedure wound up costing me nigh an hour. Add another 20 minutes driving around the Miller Hall/Rockingham Memorial Hospital part of town trying to find a parking spot, and I was a whopping 45 minutes late to the meeting. Luckily, it was an informal and non-necessary meeting in the first place, and they welcomed we with a large "kitchen sink" cookie. The rest of the day was fine, with me getting a quick lunch at home, arriving early for my next meeting, getting about 100 pages worth of literature on lacritin research to read, and heading home at 3:30 for a massive nap.

The short point of this long post is the interesting horoscope I read in the DNR while waiting at Midas (authored by Eugenia Last). It read:

CANCER (June 21-July 22): You'll be faced with money issues due to unexpected expenses. You can overcome any stress by being fully prepared to make a leap from one way of earning money to another or by adding a second job to your plans for the upcoming months.

Pretty spot on, considering that I've been pondering whether to finally bite the bullet and try to find some work selling suits, soccer balls, shih tzus or some other department store delight. So what do you think, does Eugenia really have the Last word here?

Anonymity FAIL

Here's a graf that stood out to me from an overall middling quality news story I was reading on CNN.com. Do you see what I see?

Said Lisa Smith, 44, a recently laid-off administrator from Minnesota, "I began smoking in junior high school because I wanted to fit in with a certain crowd. However, that group of friends is looooong gone from my life and I still have the nasty habit." Smith didn't want her last name used.

For the record, or for those actually interested in the rest of the article, here's the link.

**UPDATE**
Screenshot: