Monday Morning Video Laugh - May 20, 2013

And this is before the wedding ceremony....

Dinner last night:  Grilled bratwurst, red cabbage, and corn.

The Sunday Memory Drawer - The Three Days I Was Skinny

I am still sifting through more of the photos I dug out of my New York apartment.  Most of them I can easily remember the specifics.  The time, the place, the occasion.  The one atop today's post?

No clue.  

Okay, it's a batting cage.  I don't recall ever going to one on the East Coast, so this must have been taken during one of my California trips.  The longish hair.  The moustache.  The timing seems right.  And, good news, the ball is nowhere to be found.  I've obviously made contact. Len's 1 for 1.

Meanwhile, as I stare at this snapshot, there is one thing that grabs me.

Damn, I was skinny on this day.

Seriously, there is no stomach.  The legs don't look that chunky.  Are those designer jeans that I have wormed my way into?  I'd like to lose the two tone belt that just screams "J. Crew."  But, overall, this looks like one fit individual.

Really?  When was this?  And how come I couldn't make this last more than three days?

Weight has always been an issue with me.  Want to see?

I'm probably four in this picture and already I see evidence of love handles.  One Animal Cracker box too many.  And dig those chunky thighs.  Frankly, I think some folks just happen to be blessed.  There are those who have svelte in their DNA make-up and others that don't.

I'm somewhere in the middle.  As you can see, I could be bi-polar with regard to fitness.  But, for me to achieve the thinner side, it takes a lot of work.

The only problem is that I didn't start that work until I was in high school.

For about sixteen years, I was totally passive.  Except when it came to eating.  We dined healthy, although not to the maniacal extremes that First Lady Michelle Obama supports.  There was candy and dessert and always chocolate chip cookies in Grandma's pantry jar.  Fruit and vegetables, yes. Tootsie Rolls in Grandma's living room candy dish, definitely yes.  And, after school, there was always the walk around the corner to Charlie's Delicatessen for an after school snack.  A carrot stick?  Hell, no.  Make that a Drake's Ring Ding.

Exercise in my first decade and a half?    Well, there wasn't as much as there should have been.  I played in the neighborhood, but was always the slowest and clumsiest one on the team.  Sports didn't come to me easily.  Maybe it was the extra pounds.  Maybe it was a lack of practice.  I was always the last one to be picked when sides were chosen.

Things weren't much better in school when there was gym class always taught by some jerk who thought he was coaching the Green Bay Packers.  The most strenuous activity for me was just to figure out how to get a medical excuse for whenever they would turn to gymnastics and tumbling.  

And, of course, we had that great annual humbler.  The President's Fitness Test.  Some bureaucratic nonsense concocted to make kids feel horrible about themselves.  You had to run six laps around the playground.  Or scoot around picking up erasers.  Your times were compared to everybody else in the class.  It was a horrible feeling each and every Spring.   While other classmates had moved on to the locker room, I was still in Lap 5.

This kind of misery became quite second nature to me.  It was me and I started to accept it.  I was aided and abetted by parents who discounted the whole concept of weight and fitness.

"Some people are just big-boned."

Oh.

But, as I moved into the teen years, I started to kick back on this flimsy excuse.  I looked around at some friends.  There were others who were equally "big-boned."  My best neighborhood buddy Leo was one of them.  But, when it came to playing games on the block, he had a dose of athleticism that I envied.  Why was that?

Ultimately, I found my own niche.  It came on those summer teenage nights when my gang would troop en masse down to the local vacant lot after dinner.  We'd play softball or baseball until it was either too dark or the ball had been lost in the weeds.  And, as I did this night after humid night, I found there was some truth to the old adage.

Practice does make perfect.

Well, maybe not perfect.  More like passable.  

Suddenly, I could pitch at softball.  I found a hitting stroke and could pound the ball with a little power.  And, given my height, I came in handy playing first base.  You always wanted to put the tall guy there because the highest weeds were right behind that base.  You never wanted to overthrow because that would easily get that night's game cancelled due to shrubbery.  

I was tall and was now able to catch.  I was ideal at first base and relished the notion.  Leo would play third and field like a young Ron Santo.  Snag a grounder and fire it to me for the out.  What a defensive combination.

I now belonged someplace on a playing field.

The weight, or non-lack of it, still plagued me.  It became really chronic in my senior year.  During the very first gym class of the year, a deep knee thrust popped out the whole joint and that would be the beginning of the long end for my right knee.  Touch football games after school were discarded in favor of TV reruns and lots of Hostess Twinkies.  

By Christmas, I was no longer "big-boned."  I was fat.

I hated the way I looked and vowed to make changes.   There was a diet being hawked on TV talk shows that required you to drink eight glasses of water a day.  A problem when you're taking six classes a day in a high school where going to the bathroom was a death wish.  But I did it.  Plus I monitored my calorie intake.   Dad did the super market shopping.  I gave him my list.

"Low calorie Wishbone dressing?" 

"Non-fat yogurt?"

"Tab?"

Yes, that Tab.  

By spring, I was looking for a new wardrobe.

And, folks, it's been a battle ever since.  I went to college and almost ballooned to Jabba the Hut proportions again.  Late night hero sandwiches from the Fordham student deli will expand your waist measurement.  As soon as I graduated, I went back to dieting.

Weight off, weight on.  Muscle tone good, muscle tone bad.  I never stayed the same the rest of my life.

There are some photos over time that I want to burn.  Since when did I look like Ralph Kramden?  There are other snapshots that make me squint to see the label on the jeans.  Calvin Klein?  Hmmm, I'm impressed.

There's the photo at the top and I like what I see.  How many days did that flat stomach last?  I'm curious.

Over the years of my life, there was always some form of cardio.  I've been through not one, not two, but three stationary bikes.  There was a Yonkers gym membership in the 90s and I actually went four times a week.  I became addicted to a Nordic Track machine.  

And then rotten joints that connect the two parts of my leg started to prevent a rigorous exercise regiment.

Today, there is a personal trainer that works with me twice a week.  The struggle continues.  The weight doesn't leave, but it gets more defined.  After two years,  I see an ab in the mirror.  Oh, look, there's another one.  

I have abs.  That's plural.

It's a part of my life that I can't ignore.  And don't.  

I may never look like the photo at the top.  But, at the same time, I never want to be the one in the middle either.

And, my friends, isn't that what it's all about?

The middle.

Dinner last night:  Proscuitto and provolone panini at Greenblatt's Deli.  My own version is better.

Classic TV Theme of the Month - May 2013

Really???  This happened???  With Joe Besser, of all people???

Dinner last night:  German cold cut sandwiches.

Your Weekend Movie Guide for May 2013

Regular readers know that I like to post photos of movie palaces long since gone.  Well, guess what, gang?  The Wilshire Theatre shown above is still there!  It's now the Saban Theater and used for stage shows and...get this...high holy day services.   The feature on those days is apparently "How to Marry a Rabbi."

The film on this marquee was the very first wide screen movie.  A good reason to go out to see a cinematic treat.  These days, those reasons are few and far between.  You know the drill, folks.  I will sift through the movie pages of the LA Times and give you my gut reaction on what's dirtying the screens at all the non-movie palaces around town.  Spoiler alert: most of the films suck.

The Great Gatsby:  Most commonly asked question from his young target audience:  "It was a book?"

Iron Man 3:  Reviewed here earlier in the week.  A major time waster.  With emphasis on the word "waste."

The Company You Keep:  Reviewed here earlier in the month.  Act your age, Robert Redford.

42:  I've been busy.  Reviewed here last month.  A good movie.  Just don't expect it to be a perfect historical match.

The Place Beyond the Pines.  Not reviewed here, but I did see it.  A two-hour-plus look at crime and police corruption in America.  Just like your morning newspaper except without the Sudoku puzzle.

Pain and Gain:  Muscle-bound gym rats stage a heist.  Arrest the person at the box office first.  That's the one who sold you a ticket to this.

The Big Wedding:  Robert De Niro, Diane Keaton, Susan Sarandon, Robin Williams, and, from what I hear, No Script.

The Croods:  Hand reluctantly up.  Yes, I saw it.  There was a kid attached to the outing.  It's the Flintstones in 3-D.  Except there's no Ann Marg-rock.

Tyler Perry Presents Peeples:  I am longing for a month where Tyler Perry doesn't present a single thing.

Oblivion:  The end of the world....again.  With Tom Cruise and that pain in the ass Morgan Freeman.  When that old coot finally stops making movies, it will truly be the end of the world.

Scary Movie 5:  Who are the people going to see this franchise that warrant five different movies?  Please raise your hands.  I did for the Croods.

Olympus Has Fallen: ...and can't get up.

Disconnect:  Spoiler alert.  Will be reviewed here shortly.  But my thumb is up.  Now try to sue me for using that phrase, Roger Ebert.

The Iceman:   Don't goeth.

Deceptive Practices - The Mysteries and Mentors of Ricky Jay:  A documentary about the magician.  He should figure out how to make that bad hair do disappear.

Mud:  Two words guaranteed to keep me out of any movie.  Matthew McConaughey.

At Any Price:  Two more words guaranteed to keep me out of any movie.  Zac Efron.

Love Is All You Need:  It has nothing to do with the song.  It's a romantic comedy from Denmark starring Pierce Brosnan.  Yes, you read that correctly.  I actually have seen it...and, well, it's not worth reviewing for this blog.  

Kon Tiki:  No tiki, no movie.

The Reluctant Fundamentalist:  A young Pakistani man is chasing corporate success on Wall Street. He finds himself embroiled in a conflict between his American Dream, a hostage crisis, and the enduring call of his family's homeland.  It co-stars Keifer Sutherland so, hopefully, he simply shoots the cast in the first reel and everybody gets to go home.

Scatter My Ashes at Bergdorf's:  A documentary about the legendary NY store.  Already marked down.

Erased:   An ex-CIA agent and his estranged daughter are forced on the run when his employers erase all records of his existence, and mark them both for termination as part of a wide-reaching international conspiracy.  Sure, they'll make movies about this stuff, but nobody talks about Benghazi?

And Now a Word from Our Sponsor:  Some guy talks in advertising slogans.  "You can be sure" it sucks.

Something in the Air:  In the months after the heady weeks of May '68, a group of young Europeans search for a way to continue the revolution believed to be just beginning.  From France, so that must be the smell mentioned in the title.

The Sapphires:   It's 1968, and four young, talented Australian Aboriginal girls learn about love, friendship and war when their all girl group The Sapphires entertain the US troops in Vietnam.  Alternate title:  "The Lennon Sisters Go to War."

Star Trek Into Darkness:  I enjoyed the first film of the new reboot.  I am hoping this doesn't go the way of every other sequel.  Meanwhile, as long as Shatner's not in it, I'm good.

Frances Ha:  A story that follows a New York woman (who doesn't really have an apartment), apprentices for a dance company (though she's not really a dancer), and throws herself headlong into her dreams, even as their possible reality dwindles.  Doesn't sound like there's a single "ha" in it.

Black Rock:  Three young women go to a remote island and get hounded by three guys.  Beach Blanket Bingo with Knives and Guns.

33 Postcards:   Dean Randall has sponsored a young Chinese orphan Mei Mei for many years, when she arrives in Sydney out of the blue to thank him, their lives are changed forever.  And, in the role of Brian Keith, we have Guy Pearce.

The English Teacher:  An English teacher's life is disrupted when a former student returns to her small town after failing as a playwright in New York.  This sounds mildly interesting to me.  I must be getting soft.

State 194:  A look deep inside Israel and Palestine at the men and women trying to seize a historic opportunity to end the conflict and make implementing the two-state solution a reality.  Now here's a documentary I can't be bothered with.

Hating Breitbart:  A documentary about the late conservative blogger.  A fun fact:  he was the son-in-law of Orson Bean.  Insert your favorite "To Tell the Truth" joke here.

Stories We Tell:  A documentary from Sarah Polley and she peels back the layer of her own family.  The trailer looked oddly fascinating.

What Maisie Knew:  Is this the latest from Ann Sothern?

Pieta:  A loan shark is forced to reconsider his violent lifestyle after the arrival of a mysterious woman claiming to be his long-lost mother.   I don't see the word "statue" in that logline.

Dinner last night:  Had a big lunch, so just a sandwich and salad.

Moron of the Month - May 2013

I was all set for this month.  I had a "Moron of the Month" piece ready to go for May.  

The perils of doing a blog in advance.  Especially when breaking news can bring some real idiots to your virtual doorstep.  

Of course, you can't escape what is happening with our Federal government these days.  One cover-up after another and it makes you wonder if President Obama has told his kids that their next dog will be named "Checkers."  The truth of the matter is you get what you pay for.  In this case, you get what you vote for and you can't escape the grim realities of the past several weeks in Washington, DC.  Unless, of course, you don't have a brain in your head...or watch MSNBC with a closed mind.  Wait.  That's an oxymoron.

But I digress....

The one scandal (there are actually several, at the moment) that has me really worried is the one revolving the IRS.  Apparently, they've been outed for targeting conservative political groups.  Frankly, this is not new information to me.  I actually know two people who were audited last year.  Their returns have been squeaky clean for decades.  But, suddenly, the IRS is on top of them like a Korean whore.

Simply because they donated money to a political organization not affiliated with the one currently residing in the White House.

Okay, speaking of morons, you really have to be one to donate money to any political organization, whether it be blue, red, or yellow.  This is the equivalent of taking your money and tossing it down the trash compactor.  What a waste of an income.  Giving it to some folks who don't give a shit about you.  You're better off buying shares of stock in the Edsel car.

In my humble opinion, there should be no tax exempt status for any such political groups.  I don't care what side of the aisle you sit on.  Fix out another way to doctor your group's tax returns.  Screw you all.

That said, it is actually frightening what the IRS has done.  They have zeroed in on groups with such words attached as "tea party," "patriot," "conservative," and "limited government."  Yikes.  Does that mean the New England NFL team is going to be audited??  

Forget the levity for a moment.  This is scary shit, folks.  

All right, I'm sure this kind of nonsense has gone over for years, both Democrat and Republican.  The two party system that is effectively destroying America always has one side persecuting the other.  All in the name of freedom.  

We're in big trouble, sports fans.

But, this time around, the current IRS fracas seems just a little bit dirtier.  From what we read, this nefarious practice was instituted by some "lower level" IRS employees.

Really?  No.  REALLY???????

It's all incredibly dirty and, for once, lots of folks agree.

Except for this one month's Moron.....

That's Julian Bond.  Former head of the NAACP and yes, both this old fuck and that antiquated organization are still around.  Intelligent people (everybody that does not watch Chris Matthews regularly) stopped caring about them years ago.  Mainly because their business model of fighting Jim Crow laws and back-of-the-bus ridership dried up years ago.

But, every once in a while, a douche bag like Bond seizes an opportunity to fan the flames all over again.  When it comes to Black-on-Black crime or unwed mothers or welfare fraud, Bond has nothing to say.  But, as soon as the right opportunity arises, he will be the first in line to yell fire in a crowded elementary school.

Let's look at what this fossil had to say about the IRS scandal.

"I think it's entirely legitimate (for the IRS) to look at the tea party.  Here are a group of people who are admittedly racist, who are overtly political, who've tried as best as they can to harm President Obama in every way."

Bond told this all to some dope on MSNBC.  Surprise.

Meanwhile, let's think about what this clown just said.  More talking points and generalizations about folks who disagree with the direction of the country.  Time-honored traditions in this nation.  Remember the hippies?  How about those felons who bombed buildings in protest of the Vietnam War?  And the dirtbags who have openly called for the execution of every Republican that ever sat in the big chair at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.  That's not right either, Julian.

Indeed, it's almost laughable how the Tea Party is portrayed.  I picture a scene from some 1932 Warner Brothers movie.  With the Black guy tied to a wagon while a bunch of folks sporting Wamsutta pillow cases jiggle in secret.  

Uh huh.  From a more independent perspective, I see the Tea Party has a group striving for financial conservatism.  We cut back on entitlements.  Oh, wait, there's the racism.  Because if you want to cut back on those pork barrel departments devoted to funding Black-on-Black crime, unwed mothers, or welfare fraud, you must be racist.

Got it?  Six Degrees of Sidney Poitier.  Thank you, Julian Bond, for the time travel back to 1965.   

Bond continues.  He mentions that, back in 2004, the NAACP was targeted by President George Bush.

"They are saying if you criticize the president, we are going to take your tax exemption away from you.  It's pretty obvious that the complainant was someone who doesn't believe George Bush should be criticized."

Right.  So, if that did happen, guess what, Julian?  Payback is a bitch.  So nobody has clean hands.  And that includes you, who probably benefited quite lucratively for years as head of the NAACP.  Trust me, you wouldn't have taken the job if it didn't pay well.

So, Julian Bond is scared of the Tea Party and calls them "the Taliban wing of American politics."  The MSNBC idiot nods in unison.  

And we're all a little worse off than we were the day before.

You want to know what I'm afraid of?  Relics like Julian Bond who are still being given soapboxes to preach from.  Schooling us all on principles that most of us graduated from years ago.

Dinner last night:  Louisiana sausage at the Dodger game.


 

This Date in History - May 15

Happy birthday, Wavy Gravy.  Who, you say?  I don't know, I say.  But his name showed up on the May 15 birthday list and, with a name like that, it's impossible not to include him.

392:  EMPEROR VALENTINIAN II IS ASSASSINATED WHILE ADVANCING INTO GAUL AGAINST THE FRANKISH USURPER ARBOGAST.  HE IS FOUND HANGING IN HIS RESIDENCE.

What was he hanging from?  I mean, back then, there were no overhead light fixtures.

589:  KING AUTHARI MARRIES THEODELINDA, DAUGHTER OF THE BAVARIAN DUKE GARIBALD I.  

Sentences like that are why I always hated world history in high school.

1252:  POPE INNOCENT IV ISSUES THE PAPAL BULL AD EXTIRPANDA, WHICH AUTHORIZES, BUT ALSO LIMITS, THE TORTURE OF HERETICS IN THE MEDIEVAL INQUISITION.

He's Innocent...and trying to keep it that way.

1525:  INSURGENT PEASANTS LED BY PASTOR THOMAS MUENTZER WERE DEFEATED AT THE BATTLE OF FRANKENHAUSEN, ENDING THE GERMAN PEASANTS' WAR IN THE HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE.

#OccupyFrankenhausen.

1536:  ANNE BOLEYN, QUEEN OF ENGLAND, STANDS TRIAL IN LONDON ON CHARGES OF TREASON, ADULTERY, AND INCEST.  SHE IS CONDEMNED TO DEATH.

She was a head of her time.

1602:  BARTHOLOMEW GOSNOLD BECOMES THE FIRST RECORDED EUROPEAN TO SEE CAPE COD.  

In May.  He beat the summer rates.

1648:  THE TREATY OF WESTPHALIA IS SIGNED.

I love their ham.

1718:  JAMES PUCKLE, A LONDON LAWYER, PATENTS THE WORLD'S FIRST MACHINE GUN.

Elliot Ness thanks you.

1791:  MAXIILIEN ROBESPIERRE PROPOSES THE SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE.

Self denying what?  Umm, maybe I shouldn't ask.

1817: THE FIRST US PRIVATE MENTAL HEALTH HOSPITAL, THE ASYLUM FOR THE RELIEF OF PERSONS DEPRIVED OF THE USE OF THEIR REASON, OPENS IN PHILADELPHIA.

That's a long way to say "nut house."

1858:  OPENING OF THE PRESENT ROYAL OPERA HOUSE IN COVENT GARDEN, LONDON.

Eliza Doolittle needed some place to sell her flowers.

1862:  PRESIDENT ABRAHAM LINCOLN SIGNS A BILL INTO LAW CREATING THE US BUREAU OF AGRICULTURE.  

Good, he freed the farmers.

1869:  IN NEW YORK, SUSAN B. ANTHONY AND ELIZABETH CADY STANTON FORM THE NATIONAL WOMAN SUFFRAGE ASSOCIATION.

And when do they give equal rights to their husbands?

1886:  POET EMILY DICKINSON DIES.

She should have stayed in bed because now she's dead.

1902:  POLITICIAN RICHARD DALEY IS BORN.

Any politician in Chicago is born automatically corrupt.

1905:  ACTOR JOSEPH COTTEN IS BORN.

No, he did not invent the Q-Tip.

1905:  BUSINESSMAN ABRAHAM ZAPRUDER IS BORN.

Back and to the left....back and to the left.

1905:  LAS VEGAS, NEVADA IS FOUNDED.

Now Siegfried and Roy have someplace to go.

1909:  ACTOR JAMES MASON IS BORN.

A star is born.

1918:  COUNTRY SINGER EDDY ARNOLD IS BORN.

Back in the day when country singers sounded like...well, country singers.

1928:  MICKEY MOUSE PREMIERES IN HIS FIRST CARTOON "PLANE CRAZY."

And still his fur is jet black.  He must use "Just for Mice."

1935:  THE MOSCOW METRO IS OPENED TO THE PUBLIC.

I can't think of a worse place to be than Russia during rush hour.

1936:  ACTRESS ANNA MARIA ALBERGHETTI IS BORN.

With meatballs.

1936:  CLOWN WAVY GRAVY IS BORN.

And I still don't know who the hell he is.

1940:  SINGER LAINIE KAZAN IS BORN.

She always plays a fussy old Jew.  Probably because she is.

1940:  MCDONALD'S OPENS ITS FIRST RESTAURANT IN SAN BERNARDINO, CALIFORNIA.

Two Served.

1942:   IN THE US, A BILL CREATED THE WOMEN'S ARMY AUXILIARY CORPS IS SIGNED INTO LAW.

They're called WAACs and that sure describes any girl I ever knew.

1948:  FOLLOWING THE DEMISE OF THE BRITISH MANDATE OF PALESTINE, EGYPT, TRANSJORDAN, LEBANON, SYRIA, IRAQ, AND SAUDI ARABIA INVADE ISRAEL THUS STARTING THE 1948 ARAB-ISRAELI WAR.

Talk about a pile-on.

1953:  BASEBALL STAR GEORGE BRETT IS BORN.

Without the aid of any pine tar in the birth canal.

1963:  THE LAUNCH OF THE FINAL MERCURY MISSION, MERCURY-ATLAS 9 WITH ASTRONAUT GORDON COOPER ON BOARD.  HE BECOMES THE FIRST AMERICAN TO SPEND MORE THAN A DAY IN SPACE.

On that very day, I was attending my first ever baseball game at Yankee Stadium.  I remember this because the scoreboard kept telling us how many orbits Cooper had completed.

1969:  CALIFORNIA GOVERNOR RONALD REAGAN HAS AN IMPROMPTU STUDENT PARK OWNED BY UC-BERKELEY FENCED OFF FROM STUDENT ANTI-WAR PROTESTORS IN A RIOT CALLED BLOODY TUESDAY.

There he goes again.

1972:  IN LAUREL, MARYLAND, ARTHUR BREMER SHOOTS AND PARALYZES ALABAMA GOVERNOR GEORGE WALLACE WHILE HE IS CAMPAIGNING TO BECOME PRESIDENT.

If he was aiming for the head, he missed.

1994:  ACTOR GILBERT ROLAND DIES.

The tightrope walker in "The Big Circus."  

2003:  SINGER JUNE CARTER CASH DIES.

Cash is no longer king.  Or queen.

2007:  PASTOR JERRY FALWELL DIES.

See ya, dirt bag.

2008:  CALIFORNIA BECOMES THE SECOND US STATE AFTER MASSACHUSETTS TO LEGALIZE SAME-SEX MARRIAGE.

When do the polygamy activists get their day in court?  

Dinner last night:  Steak and mashed potatoes with broccoli.

One More For The Scrap Metal Drive

First off, let's deal with some blog housekeeping.  After much internal discussion (with myself, of course), I've decided to now include a rating system whenever I review a movie.  I go back to the days when I was a kid devouring the movie pages of the New York Daily News.  I would race to see if a new film got anywhere from zero to four stars.  Well, starting today, I am going to include the same kind of "Len Rating" on these critiques.  It will be down at the bottom of the review.  

But, don't scroll down there just yet.  You're going to want to read what I have to say.  There's some good stuff in this piece.

Unlike in this movie.  And how's that for a smooth transition into my review of "Iron Man 3?"

These days, Hollywood is nothing but predictable.  They make an action movie.  It makes money.  Then they make a second.  It makes more money because the moviegoing zombies think they're seeing something new.  Then they make a third.  And this cycle continues until our society is a little dumber than it was fifty years ago.

Okay, that's not to say that the Iron Man franchise is killing America.  It's mindless entertainment geared at...hang on...the mindless.  There's nothing wrong with a good popcorn movie.  And that's what the first Iron Man film was.  Lots of explosions that are perfect when you're hearing lots of butter.  Even I enjoyed it, although I probably enjoyed a box of Raisinets instead.

Then they made a second film and I temporarily joined the parade of robots into the theater.  Well, "Iron Man 2" was devoid of anything remotely new or clever.  The first movie ever filmed without the benefit of a screenplay attached.

So, with that kind of track record, how does your truly wind up seeing "Iron Man 3?"  

Easy.

I was having my car serviced at Miller Toyota in Culver City.  Conveniently next door is a multiplex.  A perfect place to wait for your automobile.  An ideal time waster.

And, under that particular criterion, "Iron Man 3" works like a charm.  It's a lot more fun than waiting around a Toyota waiting room.  Listening to some woman gossip on her cell phone in Spanish.  Or watching some guy bang on the vending machine because his bag of Doritos got stuck.  

So, with those comparisons, "Iron Man 3" is an ideal diversion.  It's certainly better than the second one of the franchise.  But, that's like saying you feel better when you have the flu.  Sure, maybe the headache has gone away, but you still have the vomiting and diarrhea.

To me, it's the same old story with the same old characters played by the same old actors.  Good news for those who care.  Robert Downey Jr., Don Cheadle, and Gwyneth Paltrow are all back for more duty.  Of course, now there are the standard villains striving for world domination.  Ben Kingsley plays an Osama Bin Laden lookalike and Guy Pearce is a dastardly computer expert.  They both have their eyes on the White House and certainly put up more of a fight than Mitt Romney did.  Meanwhile, this film offers up a Vice President who actually has a brain in his head.  See!  I told you this movie didn't make any sense.

Downey morphs into Tony Stark who morphs into Iron Man periodically.  He doesn't simply get into his armor.  The costume actually flies over to him.  It's like a dry cleaner that delivers.  Of course, the armor fails periodically and it appears that Downey didn't keep all that paperwork about the warranty.  He has to rebuild it all from scratch just as the aforementioned terrorists are bearing down on the nation.  

Sound familiar?  It's the plot line of every action movie made since 1990.  

Meanwhile, you really can't fall asleep because there's a loud explosion that will wake you up at one-minute-and-forty-six-second intervals.  In between the latest building or oil rig to blow up, Downey pops off with one smart line after another.  The world may be coming to an end.  His loved ones might be dying around him.  But, regardless, Downey as Tony Stark frequently sounds just like Alan King on the Ed Sullivan Show.  In a movie like "Iron Man 3,"  there's no time for any serious acting.  You're too busy killing people and cracking wise.

Naturally, as with every action movie made since the year 2000, there is a uber-heavy reliance on computer graphics.  The ones in "Iron Man 3" are a bit less cheesy than in other movies.  But that doesn't stop them from trying some stunts that are absolutely stupid and incredibly hard to fathom.  One is when the entire flight crew, including pilots and flight attendants, are sucked out of a plane and sent plummeting to the ground from 30,000 feet.  The resolution to that problem is so mind-numbingly stupid that you now fear for the long term intelligence of our nation.  But, then again, look at who we have elected to the office of the President over the past 40 years.

Theaters are offering up "Iron Man 3" in a 3-D version, which is naturally another sleazy way for Hollywood to drive up ticket prices needlessly.  The 3-D effect still doesn't work and I was smart enough not to pay even more money to REALLY SEE "Iron Man 3."  I can't imagine how the device would have improved my enjoyment/lack of enjoyment even more.  Or less.

Okay, "Iron Man 3" won't kill you.  If your rear brakes need to be replaced, it's ideal.  My main gripe is that, other than sheer greed, there was no reason to make the money.  The story's been told over and over and over again.  There is nothing new to see.  But, of course, this never stops the cash-focused idiots in Hollywood.  If one makes money, let's make another twelve.

I can't wait to see if "The Great Gatsby" is a success.  Then we'll see "Gatsby 2" and maybe even "Gatsby 3."  Idiots will flock to see more chapters of a finite novel and author F. Scott Fitzgerald, after years in the grave, will start drinking all over again.

LEN'S RATING:  TWO STARS.

Dinner last night:  Roast beef sandwich.