It comes down to reflexes

PETER BUFFA

Answer: 12-year-old “Jeopardy!” contestant from Costa Mesa.

Question: Who is Wil Curiel?

Sounds backward, but it makes perfect sense to “Jeopardy!” fans,

where the only good answer is a question. Is there anything loopier

than game shows? No, there is not, and that’s why we love them. On

the rare occasion when I do watch a game show, “Jeopardy!” is it. Two

reasons: it’s the only game show where you actually have to know

something and for a purveyor of utterly useless information like me,

it is the mother lode.

Question: A movie that people with triskaidekaphobia should never

see.

Answer: What is “Friday the 13th?”

Getting back to Master Curiel, who hones his intellectual skills

at Kaiser Elementary in Costa Mesa, watching the show every night

with his parents led to his applying to be a contestant, which led to

a written test, which led to a tryout, which led to Hollywood.

Actually, it led to Washington, D.C., which is just like Hollywood

except the people who work there are less stable. Wil was selected

from 1.3 zillion applicants to be a contestant on “Jeopardy!” Kids

Week, which taped in the Potomac place on April 4, but you’ll have to

wait until the show airs the week of May 3 to see how Wil did. He and

his family have been sworn to secrecy, and if they spill the pintos

before then, they have to watch 24 hours of “The Bachelorette” with

no breaks.

However well Wil will do, which is a lot of Ws, just having made

the final cut is a major league big deal. So how did he do it?

Took an Evelyn Woods course? Nope.

Camped out in a library for six weeks? Nyet.

Listened to “Encyclopedias on Tape” in his sleep? Negative.

He practiced his buzzing. If you haven’t seen the show, which I

don’t think is possible, once an “answer” is up for grabs, the

contestant who hits his or her buzzer first gets a shot at giving the

right “question.” On the advice of his dad, Frank, Wil tried to

become the Doc Holliday of buzzers, instead of trying to memorize a

million factoids like, “It was Constantinople, now it’s Istanbul.”

“He practiced pushing the button all the way down and not

click-click-clicking,” Frank Curiel said. “I know that was the only

thing you could practice.”

Spoken like a true “Jeopardy!” fan. A show like “Jeopardy!” is a

test of three things: the sum of all knowledge in your head, your

reflexes, and most of all, your nerves.

I don’t care if you do know how many books are in the Bible (73 or

66, depending on the version) or whom Camp David was named for (David

Eisenhower, Ike’s grandson), once that red light goes on and the

audience starts clapping and cheering and Alex Trebek makes his big

entrance -- you’d be lucky to remember your name. Sitting in your

family room yelling answers at the TV is to a game show what watching

golf is to playing it. It’s amazing how easy something is when you’re

doing it in your recliner.

I must confess, I tried out for a game show once, in the

unimaginably long-ago year of 1973. It was a show called “The Joker’s

Wild” that began in 1972 and ran for years, hosted by Jack Barry and

Bill Cullen. I was an Air Force officer and little extra money

wouldn’t have hurt. So, I decided to go for it after losing count of

how many people told me I should be on a game show because they had

never met anyone who knew as much useless information, ever. I made

it through the testing and two auditions, all of which came to a halt

when an associate producer pulled me aside and said she had never met

anyone who knew as much useless information, ever, but could I just

be more perky.

“More what?” I said.

“More, you know ... perky.”

I explained to her that she had the misfortune of speaking to

probably the unperkiest person who had ever lived, ever, and that if

Henry Kissinger and I were in a perk-off, it would be called on

account of darkness. And that was the end of my game show career. But

never mind that. Just keep a sharp eye out for Wil Curiel and his

excellent “Jeopardy!” adventure.

*

In keeping with the season, I have an Easter story for you.

I’m not sure what kind of Easter story it is, but I am positive

that it’s different than any other Easter story you’ve ever heard.

Think of it as a cautionary tale that no matter how strong one’s

faith may be, it is no defense against a small brain.

Welcome to Glassport, Penn., a Pittsburgh suburb, and the

Glassport Assembly of God. The church was upset with the endless

commercialization of Easter, including the hubbub over Mel Gibson’s

“The Passion of the Christ,” and they decided to stage an Easter

pageant for the entire community. Fair enough.

Last Saturday, an impressive line of Glassportians, many with

young children, filed into Glassport Memorial Stadium. But soon after

the curtain rose, things started to head south, and I’m not talking

about Harrisburg.

When the actor portraying the Easter Bunny -- in full E. Bunny

regalia, with basket and eggs -- appeared, the other actors started

to rough him up. They pushed the Easter Bunny around, chanting “There

is no Easter Bunny!”

They then grabbed the Easter eggs and broke them. Then, in a show

of bad taste that would bring a tear of envy to Madonna’s eye, the

Easter Bunny was tied to a pillar and lashed. After a moment of

stunned silence, the outraged audience started to boo, many of them

making a hasty exit with sobbing children in tow.

Melissa Salzmann, according to the Associated Press, said her

4-year-old son J.T. “was crying and asking me why the bunny was being

whipped.”

The actor who played the Easter Bunny, Patty Bickerton, who is

also the church’s youth minister, said “We wanted to convey that

Easter is not just about the Easter bunny, it is about Jesus Christ.”

Oh, OK. So, that’s why you whipped the Easter Bunny. I hate to

think what you have in mind for Santa Claus.

Happy Easter to all. And stay out of Glassport. I gotta go.

* PETER BUFFA is a former Costa Mesa mayor. His column runs

Sundays. He may be reached by e-mail at ptrb4@aol.com.