Category: Self-Therapy
Author: Scott » Published On: October 15th, 2016 » Filed In: podcast, Self-Therapy » Comments: (0)

OK, so it’s only 22 minutes or so. Ever wondered what Em thinks of Heart of the Storm still in training? Ashwinder’s Long Island Classic win? This and much more is discussed here in a one-on-one impromptu interview with the Steward…and Scott

Author: Scott » Published On: July 29th, 2015 » Filed In: podcast, Self-Therapy » Comments: (0)

holdalltickets tiny logo

Welcome to Year 42, everyone!  Scott and Madelene Gilbert ring in the new SIM year with an abbreviated recap of the Stewards Cup, a discussion about what to do about disappointing gallops, and Abby’s new toy on  Open up the Year 41 Week 16 Toronto Racecourse stakes races to follow along in the beginning, folks, because Scott jumps around even more than usual.  We’ll be back next week to discuss the Triple Crown Trail, what happened in the first Trial By Summer yearling sale, and more.


Author: Scott » Published On: January 16th, 2014 » Filed In: News, Self-Therapy » Comments: (0)

I had a nightmare about this sexy lady last night:

You’ll notice who she didn’t see. She didn’t see “Scottie.” She NEVER saw Scottie. Not ONCE. In 11 3/4 years of considering “Romper Room” to be appointment television, what’s-her-name (I’d tell you her name, but seeing how she never saw me, what does SHE care?) NEVER saw me in her “Magic Mirror.”

“BUT I’M STANDING RIGHT HERE!” I would bellow, plaintively wailing my plight so that everyone in the house and neighborhood can hear. “Why won’t she acknowledge me?! Aren’t I amazing enough? I play all the games and do all the crazy nonsense she suggests, ESPECIALLY “using my imagination.” When I imagined an air raid and talked all the other nursery school kids to head to the fallout shelter that I manufactured out of sticks, paste, and Cathy Sue’s hair ties, I got detention. This evil woman is willfully corrupting me while ignoring me at the same time! That brazen temptress! I was putty in her hands and she didn’t even know my name! Oh, the HUMANITY!!!

At some point (I think I was 11) I decided that the campaign of evil debauchery perpetrated by Romper Room and its millions of minions had to be stopped. “This woman has to be stopped. Today,” I declared. I began a letter writing campaign that, I decided, was going to go viral. Never mind that it was 1984 and “going viral” back then meant something completely DIFFERENT than it does now. My letter writing campaign was going to go viral if it was the last thing I do. “And all of you here will be a part of this plan to restore truth and justice to our lives, and MISS JANE will be struck down like dictators of decades past!

“Not to paraphrase Ulysses S. Grant,” 11-year-old me declared, “but I will fight it out on this line if it takes all summer! Who is WITH ME?!” The crowd in attendance cheered. (they were cheering the arrival of two-o-clock daycare cookies. But they were cheering>) I felt a surge of pride as I envisioned my first day as a leader of men, a conqueror of worlds, and a challenger to evil temptresses the world over. I watched my friends scatter in all directions, their marching orders in hand to start the revolution.

I then quickly realized that everyone was running to the same spot, where Mrs. Lee the daycare supervisor stood armed with apple juice and fig newtons.

My revolution was foiled. I was upset. How would I galvanize a nation of pre-teens and children if I couldn’t galvanize the after-school program at the Summit YMCA? How could I move millions if I couldn’t move tens? I despaired.

Then I saw “Jessica” (not her real name).

Jessica was the prettiest girl I had ever seen to that point. She had a smile that she employed a lot. She was armed with fig newtons, smiled at me, and patted the area of the bench upon which she was sitting.

“Have some newtons, Scottie,” she said.

I gave up my revolution, sat down to snack time, and seethed. Then Jessica smiled at me again, and I forgot about my crusade until today.

There will not be a sequel. I have bigger fish to fry.