Bob Fanucchi

Bob Fanucchi is an American film and theatre actor since 2005. He is often noted by critics for method performances in diverse roles, as well as for his distinctive mustache.

A California native and North High School graduate Fanucchi began his performing career as a bible character as child. Fanucchi made his professional acting debut in 2005 in “Prison Break” a popular television series after retirement in two other successful careers in law enforcement and the military.

Fanucchi is best known roles are as villains in 2007 in Yvonne Duque’s theater production “The Miser of Mexico”, and movie shorts as a Mafioso in” Harlem Sunset”, and "The Killer's Reprieve" , a police officer in "Night”, and a Russian pawn shop owner in “Black Mail”.

Fanucchi has appeared on National Lampoons “Eye For A Eye” television show and “Friday Night Lights” another popular television series. Then in a stars in a role in the soon be release feature film "Revenge With No Regard".

He continues his training with acting coach Dennis O'Neill and owner of Dennis O'Neill School of Acting, Fort Worth Texas and Ms. Julie Gale of Tarrant County College.

Fanucchi is also a poised stock trader and manages an active stock portfolio

Dust Storm Memories

I was 9 years old when the dust storm hit. School was called off, and the kids sent home early. I spent the first hour peeling tumble weeds off our house and sending them down the street, laughing as they piled up in Tiffany Ghiliga’s front yard a block away.

I thought how I could harness the wind for my amusement. Jumping on my skateboard, I pulled my jacket behind my body and lifted it up and over my head. My jacket, acting as a sail sent me shooting down the street at break-neck speeds. The wind was blowing so hard, it pinned my arms up so I was unable to take down my “sail”. There I was flying down the street unable to stop; of course the inevitable happened… wipeout.

Little did I know in those brief moments I’d traveled quite a distance. Face and hands all skinned up, ankle badly sprained, I began trudging my way back home, facing the storm mind you. Three hours later, injured and exhausted, I arrived at my doorstep, opened the door to see my worried & teary-eyed mother and my enraged father. My dad was one that would pummel first, ask questions last. So I walked into a flurry, and I mean a flurry of blows, adding injury to injury.

THE JEWEL IN AN OCEAN OF SPACE

THE JEWEL IN AN OCEAN OF SPACE

~The earth has something to say to us. Let's pay very close attention~

Howcha do. My name is earth (but if you'll pardon the conceit) I

like to think of myself as a jewel in an ocean of space just a

hangin' over nothing. Hey wait, didn't some guy by the name of Moses

say that?

It might feel like I'm standing still but I spin so fast it would

make your head spin but you’d never know it. Little thing called

gravity keeps your shoes nailed to the ground. Be thankful for that

or you'd be streaking through space like a blue-tailed comet! I live

in a galaxy so vast that if you could travel as fast as the speed of

light, it would still take you 100,000 years to cross it. This ole

Milky Way galaxy has 100 billion stars or more and is 600 quadrillion

in diameter (that's with 18 zeros in case you're taking notes).

You ever complain about living too close to your neighbors? Then

you'd love to live in my neighborhood but it sure would take a long

time between visits because my neighbors live about 36 trillion

miles apart from each other..or 6 light years. Speaking of the speed

of light, did ya know from the time you flick a light switch to the

moment you see the light, it will have traveled 186,282 miles...yep,

all in the blink of an eye! Hey, we're talking law of physics here,

no small potatoes. Why, it takes me a whole year to float around the

sun, fast float that is, at 66,600 miles per hour bringing you

winter, summer, spring and fall. And speaking of the sun, I'm 92

million miles away and you be glad of that considering the sun's

surface temperature is about 11,000 degrees! You sun bathers, they

don't make a sunscreen for that one! It's a good thing that only

two-thousand-millionth of its radiant energy reaches me.

I'm the 5th largest planet in the solar system and I cover

196,000,000 square miles (that's right, millions) and my

circumference at the equator is 24,900 miles. How'd ya like to have

a waist that size? By the way, I'm not as round as you think. I'm

also known as an oblate spheroid, that just means I'm slightly

flattened at the poles. Thought you smart alecks would like to know

that.

I have everything you could possibly need. Food, air, water...water,

71% of it! Makes me laugh when I think of your astronauts, big

shots, off to the moon, traveling through space, exploring new

horizons, acting like they could live without me. Ha! Packed in

their little ole capsule was air, food, water, from me, their home.

When are they gonna smarten up?

I know you think I'm just a gentle giant but sometimes I feel so

pressured that I just open wide and swallow up everything in

sight...and sometimes, I blow my top and spit hot, fiery lava

everywhere. Why, one time I even buried a whole place called Pompeii,

( with a little help from one of my buddies, Mount Vesuvius) what a

mess!

But, if you want to see me at my scary best, wait till I rock and

roll, ebb and neap my watery deep and raise a wall of water so high

it almost touches the sky and when that wet and wild baby comes

crashing down, watch out! I once took an entire Japanese island

dragging 10,000 people out to sea...the entire population! Hey, I

don't mean to be a bad guy, these things just happen.

It's true, I was pretty hostile and desolate when I was born but

now, well you remember that song 'YOU MUST HAVE BEEN A BEAUTIFUL

BABY CAUSE BABY LOOK AT YOU NOW'....yeah, look at me now.

You humans sure love my sparkling aquamarine oceans, lush green

forests, rainbowed deserts, frosty snow-capped mountains,

multicolored carpets of flowers...not to mention the cute little

critters that run all over me and the not so cute ones too. How

about those candy colored rainbows, those diamonds in the sky, rouge

colored sunsets and sunrises and those funny little wispy things

that float across the sky. And if you're fortunate enough to live in

my northern regions you get to see the aurora borealis...boy, is

that a sight for sore eyes, electrifying ribbons of eerie light. By

the way, that name means northern dawn (in case you're one of those

inquisitive types who have to know everything). And did you know she

has a twin sister from my southern regions called aurora australis

that means southern dawn, incredible twin beauties!

Yep, I sure do have a lot to offer. I'm just gonna keep right on

spinning forever and ever and I've got secrets you ain't even seen

yet. Someday I'll reveal all. I'm usually a pretty hospitable guy

and you're welcome to stay here even though you've treated me pretty

rotten but it's not up to me how long you stay, it's up to our

Creator.

So you hang in there...I will too (heh heh). Do right, and when

God gives you the go ahead for everlasting life then you and me

are really gonna have some incredible experiences. I promise.

Popyan, in the State of Caluca, Columbia 1972

I worked as a farm overseer for four years in Popyan, Columbia in the state of Kalka, about 500 miles south of the Columbian capital, Bogota. I had twelve peasant workers who lived on the cabuya farm of 800 acres in the mountains. They lived in a large shanty wooden house. They did not even have a table to sit down and eat at when I arrived as overseer in 1972. They worked at a dollar a day for six days of the week, with Sunday off with pay. The first thing I did was to build them a wooden picnic bench so they would have a place to sit down. There are three or four harvest cuts of the cabuya each year, so the peasants had no vacation.

They slept on straw on the floor, they did not have a bed. They cooked their meals on an open fire in their dirt-floored kitchen. Their diet was basically rice and beans. This was their diet because they could not afford anything else. So when I arrived and saw their deplorable conditions, from that day on, my foreman Carlos and I would drive down the mountain once a month to Popyan in our truck, where I would buy fruits, vegetables, and eggs to give to my workers.

Every Sunday morning I would sit on the front porch of the hacienda. It was seventeen miles to the farm, and I rode it often. The peasants would come down the hill down the road lined with cabuya plants.There was a lake in my front yard. A river bordered half of the ranch. The hacienda was over two hundred years old and made of white stucco, with a porch running across two sides. It had two large swinging doors and two windows. Every room opened to an outside hallway. In the kitchen in the back, the maid cooked on a primitive electric stove. There was no running water. The counter-tops were wood or stucco. The outside opening had no door.. Fifty yards up the hill, behind the house, grew five or six banana trees that produced year round. To the left of the bananas was a pineapple patch. There were other fruits growing on various trees, such as papaya.

We had one house servant who cooked and doubled as our personal maid. I had a personal valet and foreman of both locations. He lived in a small room in the back of the hacienda. The name of our hacienda was Hacienda Palace. It was a historical landmark in Columbia. People come from all over the country to visit this site, but it was privately owned. The Columbians fought the Spanish for many years for their independence. The famous General who led the Columbians was Simon Bolivar. The Columbians lost every battle to the Spanish until they met Bolivar in the battle of Palace, where the Hacienda Palace sits. Bolivar stood his ground in this valley. He stopped the Spanish in their tracks, handing them their first defeat in Columbia. It was a haunting feeling to live in this valley where so many had died. I felt humbled to live among the thousands of dead heroes of the great general Bolivar.

In 1974 my contract was up and I returned to America. Someday when I can afford it I hope to return to Hacienda Palace.

Kern Autism Network's Thanksgiving Turkey Donation

This November, the Kern Autism Network (KAN) collaborated with Kern Regional Center to distribute turkeys to families affected by autism spectrum disorders to insure they enjoyed a holiday dinner for Thanksgiving.

KAN purchased 40 turkeys from Hammons Meat Sales and coordinated with Kern Regional Center to distribute food gifts to selected families in need before the Thanksgiving holiday.

Autism is characterized by impaired social interaction, problems with verbal and nonverbal communication, and unusual, repetitive, or severely limited activities and interests (National Institute of Neurological Disorders and Stroke). According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, one in 150 children is affected by autism.

The Kern Autism Network provides support, awareness, information and education to families, professionals and the public throughout Kern County. New members are always welcome. For more information, visit our website at www.kernautism.org.

Kern Autism Network

www.kernautism.org
661 588-4235

The Ralph Bailey Show

"Nigga please"

Wait, don't delete this!!!

I was driving home and thought I'd give Bailey another shot. You see, I stopped listening to the show after Bailey was arrested for his alcohol related incident. DUI, I believe. I was one of the first (I think) to shoot him an email and tell him to hang in there. You know, poor judgment ... don't get too down on yourself, that kind of thing. Well, upon further review this was not his first offense. I thought, what a frigging hypocrite. He sits in his studio taking stands on things involving honesty, morals and anything else he thinks his core listeners want to hear and yet he hasn't kept his own house clean. I was offended by the hypocrisy and I stopped listening.

Rewind to Wednesday past.

He starts talking about double standards and how he wished he could say nigger. Reread that if you want to, but it's accurate. He said in the right context, it's okay to say nigger on the radio. He actually had his producer (Preston Nash...cool name) tell him a lie and his reply was,

"nigga please".

He couldn't stop himself so after another prompt, dropped yet another "N-bomb".

He defended his use of the word by saying, it's okay because he is Black. First, he's Black like O.J. Simpson is Black. No disrespect to O.J.

I sent him a message on his website telling him how offended and hurt I was by his actions. I'm not looking for a response, I'm not trying to boycott his show and not trying to get him fired. I just think that in 2007, to hear anyone, let alone a Black man use that term on the public airway...or anywhere else for that matter is pitiful.

Ralphy, there's no defense and no "context" in which it's right. Be ashamed. I just wanted to vent 'cause like Opie once said, "it's preying on my mind..."

You Are Not Forgotten

In response to Nikisha Brown's letter on the Faith section. (http://people.bakersfield.com/home/ViewPost/39352)

My name is Evelyn Rosado. This story was read last Sunday at our church because our Pastor felt it was an encouraging letter. This letter really touched me and I felt compelled to respond.

I too have been through hard times experiencing incarceration and bound by drugs, and as you've said, no one can keep us more lifted up than our Lord. I totally agree with you when you say that it is nice to know that there are believers that have the love of God in them and pray for you and your fellow inmates, even though their names are not known.

So, as I write this letter with you & your fellow inmates in mind, I wanted to make a promise. A sincere promise as a new born believer to pray earnestly for all the inmates, not only in your location, but in others. I know the members of The Good Neighbor Church, were I attend, will also keep you in their prayers.

Thank you for coming forward with your awesome testimony. I know you will be blessed in a mighty way because you have shed some light on the kind of love that God has for us. I encourage others to join us in prayer, because we definitely need it!

And remember, God sees all, and knows all, YOU ARE NOT FORGOTTEN!

May God Bless you, Your Sister in Christ,

Evelyn Rosado

We all need faith, even those in jail

My name is Nikisha Brown, and I am an inmate here at the Lerdo Farm
Facility. Before I go on I will let you know a little about myself and the
other women here.

I am 19 years old and awaiting the arrival of my soon-to-be new baby
(twins). I am looking at a year here in the Kern County jail, which is a
very common sentence among the women here, right along with a 16-month to
three-year prison sentence upstate.

I am aware that the majority of women brought here or sent upstate often
find God and prayer once incarcerated, but I knew the Lord before ever
setting foot inside of a jail, not to mention this is my first time ever to
know or see a place like this. I also know I am not the only one here who
knows the Lord on a personal note.

Like many others, I have children and have to face time here that will
exceed the length of pregnancy we have left.

The diversity is wide, but all the same, we all need prayer and for most, a
lot of it. I’m not quite sure what the point of my letter is, but as I was
looking through The Californian, something struck me to write a letter,
maybe bringing light to those facing hard and hopeless times in our lives
when our faith is tested the most.

Every day, the 96 women here and the 858 men next door (not counting
pretrial and central receiving) receive a newspaper, and honestly, the
horoscopes and sports are first interests. In fact, often the Faith articles
are tossed aside.

Is it uncommon for inmates facing time to believe that there is nothing for
us in this section? That there could not be anything written here to help
our situations?

Is there room for the incarcerated in your paper? Can some light be shown on
the early judged?

Many of us are placed out here away from life. I will not argue the guilt or
innocence of anyone here, but let you know that if it is so easy to be
tossed aside by the world, then how easy is it for our own Christian
community to forget us also?

Now I know my impulse to write was an attempt to remind the world we are
here. We are good, God-fearing men and women, and would like our own
community to remember us, our children, our lives and our futures and be a
part of someone’s prayers.

I am asking you to bring us into the light, not only to see someone pick up
“The Faith,” but to have the faith.

Our Day Care Thanksgiving Spread!

Now, this is how a toddler enjoys a Turkey!! We celebrated Thanksgiving at my day care in the Rosedale area with the sweetest Turkey in town!! Hope you're all enjoying left-overs!!

Lisa

Mister Know-It-All

My ex-husband was the first to admit that he could be rather mean-spirited; in truth, he often boasted of the fact, as if his ability to snap someone’s head off with a cruel retort were a virtue to be proud of. It was a “talent” he learned at an early age from his stepfather, but he perfected it beyond even the old man’s ability. Unfortunately, during the five years I was married to him, I found myself most often on the receiving end of his cutting wit. At first, I had very little defense against this verbal abuse, until I realized that, while able to pull a nasty name out of the air at any given moment, he had very little common sense, and could be positively gullible at times. Laughter is the best balm for hurt feelings, especially when the laughter is at the expense of one’s tormentor.

On one day, shortly before we finally decided to split up, he was in an especially nasty mood. He had managed to find fault with nearly everything and everyone around him. The kids had scattered to safer places, and I was feeling completely dejected. It was just after Christmas, and I was busily un-decorating the large cut Christmas tree in our living room when he came in from outside. I braced myself for yet another biting comment, but instead he, for once, simply made an observation.

“That tree still looks fresh,” he commented. “Look, the needles don’t even fall off when you pull on them. It is a shame we have to throw it in the trash.”

I looked up at him and considered for a moment. “Well, we really don’t have to, actually,” I said in all seriousness.

“Why not?” he asked, playing right into my hands.

“I read a story in [some magazine] a few days ago, about a family who replanted their Christmas tree in memory of their dead grandma. They just cut off the bottom, so the fresh wood was exposed; then they planted it in their yard and watered it.”

His eyebrows rose in interest; he was hooked. “Did it work?” he asked, as I dug my nails into my palms to maintain a straight face.

“Oh, yeah, it worked wonderfully. They showed a picture of that tree, and it was twenty feet high already, and they only replanted it a few years ago.”

That was all it took; I had scarcely removed all the ornaments from the tree when he dragged it out to the front yard. Painstakingly he sawed off the bottom six inches from the trunk, and then he set about digging a large hole while the dead tree lay waiting patiently to be resurrected. After I poured myself a stiff rum and Pepsi, I went out to enjoy the show from the front yard sidelines. As my ex began planting the tree, my friend next door joined me at the edge of our yard.

“Am I missing something,” she began, “or is he planting a dead….”

“SHHH! Not so loud, he may hear you,” I answered in a whisper. Living next door to us, she was often the unwilling witness to my ex’s foul temper, and she just smiled in understanding and sat down in the lawn chair next to mine.

For several weeks my ex-husband went out religiously every morning and watered the dead tree before leaving for work. He even gave it gallons of blue plant food. He became famous in the neighborhood; people often asked me in passing if the miracle had happened yet. And whenever he yelled at me or told me how stupid I was for those wonderful days, I just smiled, knowing that he was not nearly as smart, and I was not quite as dumb, as he thought.

As time passed, the once-fresh needles on the tree turned from green to a dry khaki brown, and still he poured water and effort into it. Of course, this amusement could not last forever. One day he went out to water his beloved dead tree and found it leaning a bit to one side. He took hold of the trunk and attempted to straighten it. What happened was a scene straight out of A Charlie Brown Christmas. Nearly every one of the brittle brown needles dropped like a rock to the ground, leaving my ex holding the bare trunk of an obviously deceased tree. I watched from the front window, my eyes pouring tears from laughing so hard and trying to keep it silent.

Amazingly, he took his failed efforts at raising dead plants in stride. He pulled the tree’s remains out of the ground and proceeded to chop it up for compost. He then scattered the pieces over the front yard. Having no experience with compost, he did not realize that the pieces have to be smaller than six inches to decompose into fertilizer. There were still dead-tree parts all over the yard when we moved out several months later; we were divorced within the year.

I got a lot of mileage and many laughs from this story over the next few years following our divorce. So when my daughter brought her boyfriend to our house one night the winter after her graduation from high school, I relayed the story of my ex and the dead tree to him as we all sat soaking in our Jacuzzi tub. He roared with laughter, but for some reason my daughter did not seem to think it was as funny as it had been when it first happened. At first I thought that she was being protective of her father. “What’s wrong, Kati?” I asked.

“It’s not funny anymore,” she said with a disgusted expression on her face. “He made me water that thing every day. I felt like a moron.”

I was perplexed. “He did not, Kati. He watered it himself, every morning. He never asked you to do it.”

She folded her arms, clearly annoyed. “Oh, yeah, he did, last year, while I was staying with him over Christmas break. He did it again!”

I nearly drowned laughing in my hot tub, and so did Kati’s boyfriend.

It is always a satisfying turn of events to see a bully get his comeuppance. However, there is nothing more gratifying than watching as the bully unwittingly amuses those he’s abused. Except, of course, if he does it again, and again, and again….

Foothill vs. Dinuba 11/16/07

BHS vs. Centennial 11/23/07 semifinal

Centennial vs. BHS 11/23/07 semifinals

BHS vs. Clovis East Playoffs 11/16/07

Temple Beth El Dedicates New Torah Learning Center

Temple Beth El dedicates new Torah Learning Center

Temple Beth El, a Reform Jewish synagogue, will dedicate its new Torah Learning Center on Sunday, December 2. Festivities will take place at the temple, 2906 Loma Linda Drive in Bakersfield. The community is invited to participate in this milestone event which will begin at 2 p.m.

Founded in 1947, Temple Beth El has served the Jewish community of Bakersfield for sixty years. The new Torah Learning Center provides eight modern classrooms which will be used by the temple’s religious school students and by Bright Beginnings, a secular community preschool and daycare operator. In addition, the facility will provide space for adult education and other programs.

According to Rabbi Cheryl Rosenstein, Rabbi Mark Diamond, Executive Vice President of the Board of Rabbis of Southern California, will speak at the dedication. A member of the Ethics Resource Committee of Children’s Hospital of Los Angeles, Rabbi Diamond is a past chair of the Los Angeles Council of Religious Leaders and is an active member of the Inter-religious Council of Southern California and the California State Advisory Committee on Institutional Religion.

“We are very grateful, not only to our donors and members for their support but to our neighbors for their patience,” said Rabbi Rosenstein. “The Torah Learning Center is the biggest project we have undertaken in nearly sixty years. We are pleased and proud to share our accomplishments with our friends and neighbors, as its existence benefits not only ourselves, but also the children of our community.”

The grand opening celebration will include refreshments furnished by the Women of Temple Beth El and entertainment provided by children from the religious school. Other highlights of the event will be the installation of mezuzot on the doorposts of the classrooms and the unveiling of the donor wall which recognizes those who helped fund this enterprise.

The spiritual home of 175 member households, Temple Beth El is the largest synagogue in Kern County. Temple Beth El is a member of the Union for Reform Judaism. For further information, please call the temple, 322-7607.

Submitted by Lynne Rosenstein

Member of the Torah Learning Center Committee

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