Len's Recipe of the Month - December 2019

Nothing like cleaning out the refrigerator (and the blog posts) on the last day of the year.  It dawned on me that I had yet to share a recipe this month and this one comes from my own holiday table.  

No, it's not the beef tenderloin above which I have already told you about in a previous post.  Or the smoky potatoes.  Both of these were on my menu Christmas Day and compliments of America's Test Kitchen.   

Nope, our focus today is on the little bowl of green stuff in the corner.   Also courtesy of America's Test Kitchen.   Frankly, I didn't know about this until very recently.  It's called persillade relish and I did try it and succeeded.  It's French and the perfect complement to a succulent beef dish.  Just drizzle it over your meat and it is quite tasty.  

And I still don't know how to pronounce the name.  But I can tell you how to make it correctly.

Persillade is apparently a derivation of the French translation for parsley and it's fitting because you start this recipe with 3/4 cup of fresh chopped...wait for it...parsley.

Now you keep adding other stuff to the bowl of parsley.

3 cloves of garlic....minced.

1 scallion...minced.

6 tablespoons of chopped cornichons.   Yeah, I didn't know what that was either.  It's a little chopped dill pickle.  I couldn't find it so I used the equivalent amount of dill pickle relish.

1/4 cup of capers...yep, minced.

1/4 teaspoon of salt.

1/4 teaspoon of relish.

Now, to cut all the acidity, add a tablespoon of sugar.

To bring it all together, stir in two tablespoons of EVO.  Mix thoroughly.

The big issue with persillade relish is that you need to use it the same day.  It doesn't keep well.   But, I doubt there will be little left over if you make it right.

Enjoy!   Happy 2020!

Dinner last night:  Roast beef sandwich.

Monday Morning Video Laugh - December 30, 2019

Here's how Mariah Carey ruined New Year's Eve two years ago...

Dinner last night:  Leftover beef tenderloin and cucumbers.

The Sunday Memory Drawer - New Year's Eve And All That Crap

Yeah, we've been down this path before.   The requisite end-of-year memory drain recounting...

...Past New Year's Eves.

The photo above is historic as previous blog entries will remind you. You may recall my tale of serving as the seven-year-old bartender for some family gatherings on December 31. Here I am on one of those infamous nights. Unfortunately, I couldn't find any photos of some relatives lying drunk underneath the buffet table of cold cuts and German potato salad.

It all came about because I had nothing else to do at these parties usually held at some relative's home or perhaps even our own freezing meat locker of a basement. At this age, I was in a party purgatory. I had nobody my age to play with. My older cousins were usually sequestered in some dark corner of the house with whatever girlfriend or boyfriend they were either groping or being groped by at the moment. They didn't need me hanging around with my nagging questions. 

"Why are your hands there??" 

I often heralded in the new year with the greeting, "go away, kid."

So, I wound up with the adults, listening to dirty jokes that I didn't get. I'd camp out at the liquor table. My family was so proud of the array of bottles that they would feature at these soirees that I actually have uncovered photos of nothing but booze.

To keep myself busy, I would help my father make the drinks. At first, I was relegated to the placement of ice cubes. Then, I graduated to the insertion of tonic, Tom Collins mix, or whatever soft beverage was being included. At some point, my father decided to go and have some fun on his own and I would man the cocktail dispenser all by myself. Each relative would come up and direct me how to make whatever libation they were desiring. And, pretty much, every dialogue included this exchange:

Relative: "Whoa, you put way too much booze in there."

Me: "Okay, I'll start over."

Relative: "No, no, don't throw it out. I'll drink it."

This happened every single time. It's no wonder why most of my family was tanked by 12:15AM. At this point, they didn't give a shit whether it was New Year's Eve or Arbor Day. When I canvassed my dad's slides of these parties, I could actually tell what time the photo was taken from the looks of some of those faces. In one shot, I saw some distant uncle modeling certain body parts made out of balloons. Now, regardless of your age, every family member at this party was R-rated. Except for me. Hell, even Grandma and Tante Emma would get into the act with a polka.
Back then, this photo meant nothing to me. In retrospect, it looks like a senior citizen center's production of "The Children's Hour."

And, given the stress level of my solitary confinement at these gatherings, I couldn't even calm myself by eating. Not that the food we put out was bad. But, for me, there was one bowl on the table that tainted everything else.

Herring in sour cream. The odor was nauseating. It permeated the entire buffet. The ham smelled like herring. The pickles smelled like herring. I started to smell like herring. And I have no idea who the fuck was eating this shit. I think my grandfather did. As a result, there might have been some years where I avoided him until July or August.

While these parties sometimes lasted till 2 or 3AM, I usually didn't. I'd get bored and head up to bed, carefully tiptoeing around some oversexed cousin who was crawling on top of some date on the stairs. I vowed that the next New Year's Eve would be better for me. It never was.

Oh, it would be years later that there would be some year-end celebrations that would be memorable for me. In college, we once welcomed the passage of time with a raucous hockey game in the dorm hallways, using a friend's crutches as sticks. There'd be another year where I went to a taping of the Tonight Show. As it recorded at 530PM, the audience was coached on how to sing "Auld Lang Syne" six hours early.

There was the year where my fractured shoulder was in a sling and I could barely reach for the dice playing Trivial Pursuit at a neighbor's house. There were years when I remembered what I saw my cousins doing and I put the memories to good use myself. And there was the fateful Eve where I returned from a house party to hear that my mom had just lapsed into an irreversible coma at the hospital. Suddenly, the herring smell years paled in comparison.

And then there was my favorite New Year's Eve of all time. 1984. I had wavered on definitive plans when a good friend called with a bright idea. He and his wife were going downtown to an oldies club called Shout. In the truest spirit of marketing, the place played the song several nights that night. My friends even had another girl going, so we could easily divide the drink bill equally four ways.

To be honest, I don't remember who they brought along, because I danced with so many people that night. The evening was electric. One big hit from the 50s and 60s after another. At several points out on the dance floor, we toasted catcher Gary Carter, who the Mets had just obtained in a trade. At midnight, they dragged out "Shout" one more time. And we did. I kissed a few of the patrons around me. I had no clue who they were. I didn't give a shit. It was that free. And easy. And spontaneous.

We had so much fun that, by January 2, I was already making plans to duplicate it the following year. And we kept spreading the word around other friends as if we were sharing a secret handshake. By the time December, 1985 had rolled around, most of the names in my Filofax had been invited. And I had a girlfriend, to boot. A non-stranger to kiss at the stroke of 12. This was going to be super-electric.

It was horrible.

What had been spontaneous the year before was now over-planned to the hilt. 

And the cast of thousands of my friends didn't exactly mesh. It was the Hindenburg of celebrations. To make the gloom even more pronounced, we got word in the middle of the evening that Ricky Nelson had been killed in a plane crash.

To this day, I still don't know what happened from one year to another. I'm not even sure the club stayed open much longer. New Year's Eve eventually returned to "crapshoot" status as far as I was concerned.

These days, I keep it quiet. A nice dinner out with some West Coast friends. I try to call my East Coast pals at 9PM so we can still celebrate New York New Year's Eve at the same time. But, the one constant throughout all the years? I've always been sober.

That's because I always make sure never to get a drink from a seven-year-old bartender.

Dinner last night:  Chicken sausage at the Arclight.

Classic Movie Trailer of the Month - December 2019

Well, there is New Year's Eve in this...

Dinner last night:  Have a little stomach bug so noting really.

Rethink Your Christmas Lights Next Year

 Happy Holidays from your local electric company.

 If that's their bedroom window, they can probably read in bed in the dark.

 Happy Holidays to your local construction workers.

 That reindeer will be history in certain garages.

 When your home looks like the Radio City Christmas show.

 I hope you didn't go to too much trouble.

 Exactly!

 On a long night of deliveries, Santa has to go sometime.

 Merry Christmas to your significant other.

 Exactly, Part 2.

 How was that wind storm?

The dyslexic Christmas light installer.

Dinner last night:  Leftover beef tenderloin and veggies.

Len's Jukebox of the Month - December 2019

That wonderfully infectious Christmas ditty.

Dinner last night:  Christmas dinner:  beef tenderloin, smoky potatoes, cream of tomato soup, brussels sprouts with pancetta, and cucumber salad.

This Date in History - Christmas Day

Happy birthday, Baby Jesus.  Except this really happened sometime in March.  But, a lot of other nifty stuff did happen on this date.  Wait till you see...

333:  EMPEROR CONSTANTINE THE GREAT ELEVATES HIS SON TO THE RANK OF CAESAR.  

The first of many power grabs on this Christmas day.

350:  VETRANIO IS FORCED TO ABDICATE HIS TITLE OF CAESAR TO LIVE AS A PRIVATE CITIZEN ON A STATE PENSION.

And who goes up must come down.

496:  CLOVIS I, KING OF THE FRANKS, IS BAPTIZED INTO THE CATHOLIC FAITH.

Done with relish.

800:  THE CORONATION OF CHARLEMAGNE AS HOLY ROMAN EMPEROR IN ROME.

They loved to tie up Christmas day with this nonsense.

1066:  WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR, DUKE OF NORMANDY IS CROWNED KING OF ENGLAND IN LONDON.

This king garbage just does not stop.

1100:  BALDWIN OF BOULOGNE IS CROWNED THE FIRST KING OF JERUSALEM.

Says he.

1130:  COUNT ROGER II OF SICILY IS CROWNED THE FIRST KING OF SICILY.

And on and on and on....

1642:  PHYSICIST ISAAC NEWTON IS BORN.

Not crowned, thank goodness.

1643:  CHRISTMAS ISLAND FOUND AND NAMED BY CAPTAIN WILLIAM MYNORS OF THE EAST INDIA COMPANY.

He got lucky.  Two weeks earlier and it could have been Hanukah Island.

1776:  GEORGE WASHINGTON AND THE CONTINENTAL ARMY CROSS THE DELAWARE RIVER AT NIGHT TO ATTACK THE BRITISH AT TRENTON THE NEXT DAY.

Working on Christmas?  That's time and a half.

1826:  THE EGGNOG RIOT AT THE US MILITARY ACADEMY CONCLUDES.

When do they start throwing around the mince pie??

1868:  US PRESIDENT ANDREW JOHNSON GRANTS UNCONDITIONAL PARDON TO ALL CIVIL WAR CONFEDERATE SOLDIERS.

A nice thing to do on the holiday.  But no presents for them, please.

1870:  BUSINESSWOMAN HELENA RUBINSTEIN IS BORN.

And last minute gifts of make-up bearing her name would be around on Christmas from this day forward.

1899:  ACTOR HUMPHREY BOGART IS BORN.

Here's looking at you, kid.

1907:  MUSICIAN CAB CALLOWAY IS BORN.

Hi-de-ho.

1918:  EGYPTIAN POLITICIAN ANWAR SADAT IS BORN.

So it's not just a holiday for Christians....

1924:  WRITER ROD SERLING IS BORN.

We enter a dimension of space, time....all that jazz.

1932:  ACTRESS MABEL KING IS BORN.

That's what's happening.

1932:  A MAGNITUDE 7.6 EARTHQUAKE IN CHINA KILLS 275 PEOPLE.

Hope there were 275 gift receipts.

1941:  ADMIRAL CHESTER W. NIMITZ ARRIVES AT PEARL HARBOR TO ASSUME COMMAND OF THE US PACIFIC FLEET.

So, in a way, this was a coronation, too.

1945:  ACTOR GARY SANDY IS BORN.

WKRP in Cincinnati!!

1946:  ACTOR W.C. FIELDS DIES.

Whipsnade, Whipsnade.

1947:  THE CONSTITUTION OF THE REPUBLIC OF CHINA GOES INTO EFFECT.

So that 1932 earthquake didn't destroy them altogether.

1949:  ACTRESS SISSY SPACEK IS BORN.

Also known as Sissy Space Chick.

1950:  THE STONE OF SCONE, THE TRADITIONAL CORONATION STONE OF BRITISH MONARCHS, IS TAKEN FROM WESTMINSTER ABBEY BY SCOTTISH STUDENTS.

That's going to be one long detention period.

1958:  BASEBALL STAR RICKEY HENDERSON IS BORN.

Noteworthy on Christmas day only because Jesus wasn't a great base stealer.

1974:  MARSHALL FIELDS DRIVES A VEHICLE THROUGH THE GATES OF THE WHITE HOUSE.

Okay, just being clear, this has nothing to do with the Chicago department store??

1977:  PRIME MINISTER OF ISRAEL MENACHEM BEGIN MEETS IN EGYPT WITH PRESIDENT ANWAR SADAT.

Effectively ruining the latter's birthday.

1977:  ACTOR CHARLIE CHAPLIN DIES.

The tramp has been silenced.  Of course, understanding that he didn't talk much in his movies anyway.

1979:  ACTRESS JOAN BLONDELL DIES.

She was a big deal in the movies about two centuries earlier.

1989:  BASEBALL MANAGER BILLY MARTIN DIES.

In a car crash.   Way, way, way, way too much holiday cheer.

1991:  MIKHAIL GORBACHEV RESIGNS AS PRESIDENT OF THE SOVIET UNION.

All that wall demolition proved to be too much for him.

1995:  SINGER DEAN MARTIN DIES.

That's a morte.

2006:  SINGER JAMES BROWN DIES.

No longer feeling good.

2008:  SINGER EARTHA KITT DIES.

Santa baby, how about a casket?

2009;  UMAR FAROUK ABDULMUTUALLAB UNSUCCESSFULLY ATTEMPTS A TERRORIST ATTACK AGAINST THE US WHILE ON BOARD A FLIGHT TO DETROIT.

And he didn't even bother to pack clean underwear.

2016:  POP STAR GEORGE MICHAEL DIES.

Wham!

Dinner last night:  Some snacks after going to church service.

Everybody Loves Santa?

He's coming tonight!   Merry Christmas Eve, everybody!!

Dinner last night:  Leftover beef sausage and potato salad.

Monday Morning Video Laugh - December 23, 2019

My Christmas video tradition!  I can't get enough of this.

Dinner last night:  Smoked beef sausage and salad.

The Sunday Memory Drawer - Office Christmas Party

Hey, this looks like a swingin' time.  A wild soiree down at the insurance company.  Woo fucking hoo!

Luckily and perhaps mercifully, the Christmas office gathering is slowly disappearing.  No need to talk glowingly about somebody you don't really give a shit about.  No great need to knock back a few so you can get up the nerve to talk glowingly about somebody you don't really give a shit about.  Or the worst scenario.  Getting so drunk that you don't care that the Xerox machine has become a mattress and you don't care that you're swapping spit with somebody you don't really give a shit about.

When I think back of recent years, I've been to some glorious ones.   At the Beverly Hills Hotel.   The Ritz Carlton.  Even a sound stage on the Universal Studios lot.  But, as I wrote earlier, these years were the exceptions as company finances drop with business.   The same place that hosted the parties at the Ritz Carlton just had their 2019 gala in an arcade during the afternoon.

You see what I mean?

So I live with the memories of office parties in both NY and then LA after I relocated here.  And my mind wanders back to my very first office holiday party.  

Because it was probably my worst.  And, while there was definitely no bartering of saliva, my behavior could not have been worse.  Unintentionally.

It was my first Manhattan-based job after college graduation.  I was the lowest man on the totem pole that was below sea level in the first place.  A junior assistant at a small media buying service that was run by some snooty Brit who would have been less pompous if he realized just how bad his teeth were.  Clearly, there were to be no life-long friends for me in this collection of misfits.  Except for one other media buyer who also detested the lot of them and became a long time friend, I had zero connection or emotion for anybody performing in this corporate three-ring circus.

So, imagine my horror when the memo came around about the holiday party.  Forced socializing.  Was that a pit forming in my stomach or was that a glob of last year's fruit cake?    Attendance was not mandatory, but "expected."  I was screwed.  Fa la la la la la la la fucking la.

Since my only office chum lived in Westchester as well, we immediately made very strategic plans on how quickly we could get the hell out of there.  Our transportation would be tied to her husband's work schedule.  When he showed up with the car, we had to leave.  Or escape, as the proper definition would have it.  We rationalized that nobody would notice we had even left.

Except...

The snotty Brit owner then announced that our party would be a sit-down dinner in a small but exclusive French restaurant down in Greenwich Village.

Mon Dieu!  And crap!!!!  How the hell was this happening?  And since when does a British guy want to patronize a French eatery???

To make matters even more tragic, we were advised that the dining establishment didn't even have a liquor license.  No worries.  Our pretentious boss had that all covered.  He would be bringing along the finest of wines personally selected by himself.  And, to ease our concerns even further, we didn't have to worry about a food selection either.  He was personally working with the chef to design every single course of the meal.  And, oh, by the way, there would be ten of them.  Courses of the meal, that is.

On the dreadful evening in question, the dozen or so of us sat around a big table like a family.  A family, of course, with two in-laws who couldn't wait to get the fuck out of there.  But we were trapped.  I don't remember the name of this place, which is not an issue since I planned to never again eat within a five mile radius.   The kitchen was obviously taking great pains to serve up a delicious meal.  Because each course took a half-hour to appear.  How long would this party be?  We were celebrating Christmas now, but dessert might be ready by Valentine's Day. 

Our high-falutin' host had also carefully selected a menu without taking into account the personal likes and dislikes of his staff.  Quail eggs.  Salmon.  Something with duck.  One by one, each course presented me with something else that I wouldn't fathom eating. 

The only thing on the table that wasn't offensive to me was the wine.  I focused not on the solids, but the liquids.  And plenty of it.  Previously, I hadn't really been exposed to wine.  Not on this evening, however.  It slid effortlessly down my windpipe like Hawaiian Punch.

The lack of food and the abundance of drink, along with the less than congenial spirit around the table, morphed me (and my friend, as well) into a pickled mess.

By the time her husband showed up with the car several hours or days later, I was officially for the first time in my life drunk.

Symbolically, I was poured into the back seat of their car for the ride up to Westchester.  I had no clue where I was, except that it was way too hot.

"Open the window."

And way too cold.

"Close the window."

And feeling like I was going to hurl chunks.

"Open the window."

Except it was too cold for that.

"Close the window."

I have no recollection how and when we pulled up in front of my house, except it was midnight and I wanted to die immediately.  But, death was detailed for a few more moments as I ran into another vision of the Grim Reaper.

My father.  Just home from work and out on the street emptying my dog Tuffy for the evening. 

Uh oh.

I tried to play it cool.  I spouted off some witty repartee with Daddy dear.  And it probably was completely incoherent, which was not lost on my father.

"Are you drunk?"

Me?  The audacity!  I certainly was not drunk!

And I promptly threw up on the dog.

Tuffy was being emptied.  And so was I.

Dinner last night:  Bacon-gruyere burger at Monsieur Marcel.

Classic TV Theme Song of the Month - December 2019

Not exactly a TV theme song, but you know it well at this time of year.

Dinner last night:  Had a really big lunch at a holiday party so nothing really.

Your Holiday Weekend Movie Guide for December 2019

T'is the season.   Ah, the photo above is one of my favorite places in Hollywood.  The Arclight Cinemas.   This is a theater that caters to the show biz crowd and you are generally not seeing films there with the usual mall riff raff.  

And, during Christmas week, it is the place to be when you want to capture up to the movies with Oscar buzz.  Plus it's almost always a guaranteed celebrity sighting during that time period.   Not everybody leaves town.

So what's playing at the Arclight and other theaters this weekend?  You know the monthly drill, gang.  I'll zip through the movie pages of the LA Times and give you my gut reaction to what's on screens right now.

Oh, and if you go to the Arclight, try the caramel popcorn.   You're welcome.

Knives Out:  Blog review coming.   An entertaining film but, speaking of knives, it needed about 30 minutes cut.

Marriage Story:  Reviewed here the other day.  You don't need a theater to see it.  Now playing on Netflix.  And you should check it out because it's loaded with Oscar worthy performances.

Ford V. Fairlane:  Reviewed here recently.  Surprisingly entertaining film about car racing, a sport that I will argue is not a sport.

The Irishman:  Blog review coming.  You're better off seeing it on Netflix where you can work in about a half dozen intermissions into this almost four hour affair.

The Two Popes:  This Protestant is actually interested in this film.

JoJo Rabbit:  Reviewed here recently.   A clever story about a ten-year-old at Nazi camp during WW II.   Yes, you read that right.

Parasite:  Reviewed here a while ago.   It will likely win the Oscar for Best Foreign Film.  Hard to describe, but save for the Korean location, this could have been directed by Hitchcock.

Honey Boy:  It stars Shia LaBoeuf whose police record is now longer than his list of credits on IMDB.

A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood:  Mister Rogers, Tom Hanks-style.

A Hidden Life:   Even the movie poster in the lobby put me to sleep.

Dark Waters:  Mark Ruffalo as a crusading attorney.   Well, yes, there is apparently one still left in America.

Richard Jewell:  The guy who blew up the 1996 Olympics.  Oh, wait, he didn't.  I'm always intrigued about a Clint Eastwood movie.  Even at the age of 90, he knows how to tell a story.

The Aeronauts:  A balloon expedition in 1862.  Hot air supplied by the 2019 House of Representatives.

63 Up:  Michael Apted's continuing documentary as he follows the lives of several British youngsters.  I once sat next to him on a table.   He was not interested in following me.

Frozen 2:  Not a fan of Frozen 1, so do the math.

Cats:   Never saw the musical.  Will never see the film.

Lost Holiday:  A NYC social worker gets caught up with the kidnapping of a Washington DC socialite.  Frankly, anybody from the nation's capital who disappears is not worth finding.
Bombshell:  Strictly for MSNBC viewers.

Santa Fake:  First the news and now him??

Star Wars - The Rise of Skywalker:  I am curious to see how they have managed to work the dead Carrie Fisher into this.   They claim this is the last movie.  Oh, yeah, sure.

Queen and Slim:  Slim and Queen's first date takes an unexpected turn when a policeman pulls them over for a minor traffic violation.   Hmm, let me guess.  Queen and Slim are Black?

Jumanji - The Next Level:  Have never seen any incarnation of a Jumanji movie and I am quite proud to say that.

Uncut Gems:  Adam Sandler is getting Oscar buzz for this drama.  Yes, I wrote that.

Black Christmas:   This is a remake of sorority girls getting stalked by a killer.  Well, that's one way to reduce your gift list.

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

#MeTooChristmasGift

 Give her nuts and she's liable to kick you in yours.

 Make your wife look like Lena Horne for Christmas.

 So what does she expect?  I want photos.

 And now she can shoot you.

I wonder if Bob Hope could get by giving Dolores a box of chocolates for Christmas.

 Don't light up too close to that Christmas tree.

 Did Ann Sothern die of lung cancer?  Just sayin'.

 She gave him underwear but she might have sewed up the opening in front.

 A fruit cake?!  Go fuck yourself.

 To create even more space in the house, she should just ask him to move out.

 For the active shooter in your life...

Oh, that's what they're for...

Dinner last night:  Cocktail snacks at the home of my next door neighbors.

This Date in History - December 18

Happy birthday to Steven Spielberg.  It might not be Schindler's, but you're on our list today.

218 BC:  HANNIBAL'S CARTHAGINIAN FORCES DEFEAT THOSE OF THE ROMAN REPUBLIC DURING THE SECOND PUNIC WAR.

I totally slept through the first one.

1271:  KUBLAI KHAN RENAMES HIS EMPIRE "YUAN."  

Yawn.

1642:  ABEL TASMAN BECOMES THE FIRST EUROPEAN TO LAND IN NEW ZEALAND.

On purpose?

1655:  THE WHITEHALL CONFERENCE ENDS WITH THE DETERMINATION THAT THERE WAS NO LAW PREVENTING JEWS FROM RE-ENTERING ENGLAND AFTER THE EDICT OF EXPULSION OF 1290.

Our birthday boy today would be proud.

1777:  THE UNITED STATES CELEBRATES ITS FIRST THANKSGIVING, MARKING THE RECENT VICTORY BY THE AMERICANS OVER BRITISH GENERAL JOHN BURGOYNE IN OCTOBER.

In December?   A little cold to blow up those helium balloons, I think.

1787:  NEW JERSEY BECOMES THE THIRD STATE TO RATIFY THE US CONSTITUTION.

Ah, the Constitution.  Remember that?

1878:  JOHN KEHOE, THE LAST OF THE MOLLY MAGUIRES, IS EXECUTED IN PENNSYLVANIA.

The Molly Maguires?  Didn't they sing in Vegas?

1878:  RUSSIAN LEADER JOSEPH STALIN IS BORN.

You can still visit his entombed body.  Creepy.

1886:  BASEBALL STAR TY COBB IS BORN.

And immediately went 3 for 4.

1892:  THE PREMIERE PERFORMANCE OF THE NUTCRACKER IN RUSSIA.

Just in time for the holidays.  What a genius move.

1916:  DURING WORLD WAR I, THE BATTLE OF VERDUN ENDS WHEN GERMAN FORCES UNDER CHIEF OF STAFF ERICH VON FALKENHAYN ARE DEFEATED BY THE FRENCH.

The French won???  Really????

1916:  ACTRESS BETTY GRABLE IS BORN.

Nice set of pins on her.

1917:  ACTOR OSSIE DAVIS IS BORN.

If he had hooked up with Harriet Tubman, we would have had one hell of a sitcom.

1917:  THE RESOLUTION CONTAINING THE LANGUAGE OF THE 18TH AMENDMENT TO ENACT PROHIBITION IS PASSED BY THE US CONGRESS.

Talk about a buzzkill.

1932:  THE CHICAGO BEARS DEFEAT THE PORTSMOUTH SPARTANS 9-0 IN THE FIRST EVER NFL CHAMPIONSHIP GAME.  BECAUSE OF A BLIZZARD, THE GAME IS MOVED FROM WRIGLEY FIELD TO CHICAGO STADIUM.

Because there was no blizzard five miles away????

1943:  ROCK STAR KEITH RICHARDS IS BORN.

Starting to gather some moss.

1944:  DURING WORLD WAR II, THE US AIR FORCES BOMBS HANKOW, CHINA, WHICH IS A JAPANESE SUPPLY BASE.

Holy hankow.

1946:  DIRECTOR STEVEN SPIELBERG IS BORN.

We're gonna need a bigger crib.

1956:  JAPAN JOINS THE UNITED NATIONS.

Oh, sure.  Now you want to play nice.

1963:  ACTOR BRAD PITT IS BORN.

A reminder to send birthday greetings to a good friend of mine who grew up with Brad and shared the same birthday party in grade school.

1971:  GOLFER BOBBY JONES DIES.

Yeah, but somehow he ended up pitching for the Mets thirty years later.

1972:  PRESIDENT RICHARD NIXON ANNOUNCES THAT THE US WILL ENGAGE NORTH VIETNAM IN A SERIES OF CHRISTMAS BOMBINGS AFTER PEACE TALKS COLLAPSE.

That ain't Santa Claus up on your roof.

1973:  THE ISLAMIC DEVELOPMENT BANK IS FOUNDED.

No interest.

1978:  DOMINICA JOINS THE UNITED NATIONS.

Is this a country or a stripper?

1997:  HTML 4.0 IS PUBLISHED.

RFLMAO.

1997:  ACTOR CHRIS FARLEY DIES.

What a waste.

2002:  THEN GOVERNOR OF CALIFORNIAN GRAY DAVIS ANNOUNCES THAT THE STATE BUDGET DEFICIT WILL BE TWICE WHAT HE PREDICTED.

Here comes Arnold.

2006:  UNITED ARAB EMIRATES HOLDS ITS FIRST-EVER ELECTIONS.

That explains the gunshots.

2006:  ANIMATOR JOSEPH BARBERA DIES.

Wilma!!!!

2007:  TV HOST JACK LINKLETTER DIES.  

His dad Art outlived him by three years.

2014:  ACTRESS VIRNA LISI DIES.

Lots of happy guys in Heaven on this day.

2016:  ACTRESS ZSA ZSA GABOR DIES.

At the age of 208.

Dinner last night:  Leftover tri-tip and Asian bean salad.