The Sunday Memory Drawer - Another New Year's Eve

 

The requisite end-of-the-year celebration results in the requisite end-of-the-year Sunday Memory Drawer.  And the realization that New Year's Eve has gone through phases with yours truly.  Starting with the kid in the photo above.  That's me.  The littlest bartender.

You've read before the stories and seen the photos of the December 31 parties in my parents' basement.  Family members actually enjoying each other's company.  Doing the Cha Cha on the tattered linoleum that used to be in our kitchen upstairs.  And me mixing drinks.

Why the hell was I doing that?  Well, you have to understand my family dynamic.  Age-wise, I was in purgatory.  My teen-age cousins were usually making out with somebody somewhere in the dark recesses of the house.   My mother would warn me.

"Don't go upstairs."

I did once and immediately wondered why X had his hands on Y's....  They saw me standing in the doorway.   A couch cushion was tossed in my general direction.  

In No Kid's Lane, I had to busy myself on the adult side of the party aisle.  And, bored to the hilt, I decided to stand behind the table where all the family booze was lined up.  One relative came up to me.

"Hey, make me a gin and tonic."

Huh?   I was about seven years old.   But, smart enough to know the names on the different bottles.   I poured a whole bunch of gin into a glass.  With very little tonic.

"Whoa!  You put too much booze in there!"

Okay, I thought, I'll pour it out.

"No!  Don't do that.  We don't waste liquor.  I'll drink it."

And that how's this littlest bartender single handedly sunk most of the adult relatives at that New Year's Eve party.  I might have been the only sober one left in that entire basement by 1AM.

Pockets of memories across New Year's Eve.   Despite my position as a one-kid island,  I really cherished those family parties.   Trying to avoid getting a wet smooch from some old codger.  Working hard to make sure nothing on my plate had even remotely come in contact with the dreaded Vita pickled herring on the buffet table.  

Fun times.   And they drifted away too soon.  Just like on Christmas, the family drifted apart for New Year's Eve.   People stayed home.  Alone.   It was too much trouble to go out.   Why?   Most of our family lived within three miles of each other.

Of course, as I got older, I still wanted to celebrate.   The passage of one year into another remained a big deal with me.  And, hell, I was remembering what my cousins were doing upstairs.   When do I get to do THAT?

Yeah, well...

When I should have been groping somebody on a December 31, I was actually celebrating midnight at 6PM.  That was the year I spent New Year's Eve at a Tonight Show taping in New York.  It was taped earlier in the day.   When it was allegedly midnight, Johnny and Ed tossed confetti in the air as we pretended it wasn't really 6PM.  I went home and promptly threw up.   This New Year's Eve would be the first and last time that I had the flu.

More memories as one college party on one December 31 morphed into another.  Playing hockey in a dorm hallway with my roommate's crutches.

There was the year where I was fresh out of college and trying to impress some girl with my ability to cook in that new wok I had just gotten for Christmas.  Note to all: you really do have to chop up the ingredients or your meal can be a disaster.

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 home.  I won the game and the painkillers were delicious, thank you very much.

There was the fateful Eve when I returned from a house party to hear that my mom had just lapsed into a coma at the hospital.  My first official act of the New Year was putting my John Hancock on a "do not resuscitate" order.

Yep, over time, the night of December 31 became less and less important.   It was essentially forced fun.   From those glorious days as a kid to less than stellar nights as an adult, the luster wore off.  There was less and less pressure to have...ahem...a date.   There was less and less pressure to even do something special.

Of course, I have written in the past of one magical New Year's Eve that stands out over almost all others.

1984. 

Typically, I had not made definitive plans, when my good friend Glenn in New York called with a bright idea. He and his wife were going downtown to an oldies club called Shout. In the true spirit of marketing, the place played the song several times 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 night was electric. One big hit from the 50s and 60s after another. At several points out on the dance hall, 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 all did. I kissed a few of the other patrons around me. I had no clue who they were. I didn't give a shit. 

It was that free. 

And easy. 

And spontaneous.

Suddenly, I was a kid again.   Mixing gin and tonics for the family.   And feeling so amazingly empowered with fun.

I've achieved the same serendipity on New Year's Eve a time or two after that with a special person.  But it was that one at Shout that was special. 

Of late, I celebrate December 31 on the west coast which, in my convoluted mind, stretches out the outgoing year by three hours.  If it's dinner with friends and maybe a glass of champagne, that's all I require.

If you look at all these New Year's Eve celebrations, they almost mirror the phases of anyone's life.  From the innocence of childhood to the unabashed freedom of young adulthood to the seemingly problem-laden world of a grown up.  

Okay, maybe it is an overrated holiday.   But, it is still the passage of time.   And one's life.

Dinner last night:  Egg nog infused French toast.  Breakfast for dinner.

Classic Musical Comedy Production of the Month - December 2023

Woo hoo.   A five Saturday month which means we get to see a classic number from a musical comedy.  And even though it's a week after Christmas, we still need to celebrate this gem from "White Christmas."  God bless Vera-Ellen.

Dinner last night:  Chicken sausage.

Christmas Cards That Came Late

 

The family that smokes together...

Happy Holidays from Lenscrafters!

Bad wallpaper doesn't necessarily translate to bad pajamas.

I'd like to return them, please.

Santa's planning a home invasion robbery.

She's outsourced her husband.

Obviously, there was nothing he really wanted.

The dog is the brightest thing in this picture.

The Birth of Chucky...and Christmas.

If somebody was in need of one of those Christmas shavers from Norelco...

Dinner last night:  Sandwich.

My Last Movie Review of 2023

 

It might not be the last movie I see this year, but likely the last one I review on this here bloggerino.

That is, unless the horrific experience I had seeing "Poor Things" doesn't deter me from ever seeing a movie again.  A long time ago, I saw something called "The Tin Drum," which I believe won a Foreign Film Oscar.   It got no awards from me and was declared the worst film I've ever seen in my lifetime.

Until now.   "The Tin Drum" finally falls to second place on Len's Crappy Films list.

I saw this one with all good intentions.  I am a fan of Emma Stone and have liked her work in lighter fare like "La La Land" and "Crazy Stupid Love."   If she stuck to rom coms, I would be a ticket holder for all of them. 

But you see, since she won an Oscar and probably wants more, comedies will not be her direction.   Indeed, she is the odds-on favorite for the Best Actress Award on Oscar night.  And, inexplicably, "Poor Things" falls into the Golden Globe category of Comedy.   I wonder who's laughing at the moment because I'm not.

"Poor Things" is one of those movies that I needed to read about on Wikipedia as soon as I got home.   I sat on the computer and shook my head.   Is that what the film was about?  You could have fooled me.

This thing is, I think, set at the turn of the century.  Willem Defoe, with a scarred face signifying he got too close to a Ginzu chef on his last visit to Benihana, plays a surgeon named...wait for it...God.   He's one of those doctors who likes to play mix and match with body parts.   This is why you see chickens walking around with heads from bulldogs and pigs.  

Emma Stone plays a pregnant Bella who opens the picture by jumping off a bridge.  "God" retrieves her body and places the brain of her still-alive infant into her head.  So, you have a child-like adult.   Jerry Lewis made a fortune with this act.   But it is inexplicable here.

Bella decides to travel the world and have sex.   Lots of it, which Bella calls "furious jumping" and "cocking."  If you've been dying to see Emma Stone's nipples a lot, this is the movie for you.  At one point, she wants to give money to all those women with dead babies (can we have one film from Hollywood that doesn't mention abortion?) so she becomes a prostitute.  More furious jumping and cocking.  

Bella wanders around Paris and Lisbon on her adventures and I think also a cruise ship.   I can't be sure of the latter because, by this time, I was covering my eyes.   To make matters even more dire, the first 20 minutes of the film are in black and white before shifting to color.   I assume this was a creative choice.  Or perhaps the idiots that made this mess simply put the wrong film stock in the camera.

The final "FU" from the filmmakers is with the ending credits.   They are done with varying different fonts and sizes, rendering them unreadable.   Perhaps this was done by design so we couldn't identify the names of the dopes who made a movie that essentially is nothing more than a toilet bowl at a bus station.  If you know what's good for you, you don't want to look.

I probably will forgive Emma Stone in time.   But, for the rest of the jerks behind "Poor Things?"   I hope to never see the likes of them again.

LEN'S RATING:  ZERO stars!!!

Dinner last night:  Leftover beef tenderloin.

This Date in History - December 27

 

It's amazing how slow a news day it was for two days after Christmas.   But, it is John Amos' birthday, so good for him.

537:  THE HAGIA SOPHIA IS COMPLETED.

Who?  What?  Why?

1657:  THE FLUSHING REMONSTRANCE IS SIGNED.

I have no clue as long as it has nothing to do with toilets.

1703:  PORTUGAL AND ENGLAND SIGN THE METHUEN TREATY WHICH GIVES PREFERENCE TO PORTUGUESE IMPORTED WINES INTO ENGLAND.

Now we're paying attention.

1831:  CHARLES DARWIN EMBARKS ON HIS JOURNEY ABOARD THE HMS BEAGLE DURING WHICH HE WILL BEGIN TO FORMULATE HIS THEORY OF EVOLUTION.

Some people go on cruises for the food.   Darwin goes to figure out evolution.

1836:  THE WORST EVER AVALANCHE IN ENGLAND KILLS EIGHT PEOPLE.

For the worst ever, you would expect more than eight people dead, right?

1845:  ETHER ANESTHETIC IS USED FOR CHILDBIRTH FOR THE FIRST TIME IN GEORGIA.

100, 99, 98......zzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

1901:  ACTRESS MARLENE DIETRICH IS BORN.

Alert the boys in the back room.

1905:  COMIC CLIFF ARQUETTE IS BORN.

Charlie Weaver to block.

1911:  "JANA GANA MANA," THE NATIONAL ANTHEM OF INDIA, IS FIRST SUNG IN THE CALCUTTA SESSION OF THE INDIAN NATIONAL CONGRESS.

Which means every worker in 7/11 stops for two minutes.

1927:  "SHOW BOAT," CONSIDERED TO BE THE FIRST TRUE AMERICAN MUSICAL PLAY, OPENS AT THE ZIEGFELD IN NEW YORK.

That ole man river....

1932:  RADIO CITY MUSIC HALL OPENS FOR THE FIRST TIME.

The first movie did not appear until the next month.   The film?  "The Bitter Tea of General Yen."

1935:  REGINA JONAS IS ORDAINED AS THE FIRST FEMALE RABBI IN THE HISTORY OF JUDAISM.

Oy.

1939:  ACTOR JOHN AMOS IS BORN.

Most people remember him from "Roots" or "Good Times."   I recall him as Gordy the Weatherman on "Mary Tyler Moore."

1945:  THE INTERNATIONAL MONETARY FUND IS CREATED WITH THE SIGNINGS OF AN AGREEMENT BY 29 NATIONS.

Couldn't make it an even 30?

1966:  THE CAVE OF SWALLOWS, THE LARGEST KNOWN CAVE SHAFT IN THE WORLD, IS DISCOVERED IN MEXICO.

Those swallows who did not make it to Capistrano.

1968:  APOLLO 8 SPLASHES DOWN IN THE PACIFIC, ENDING THE FIRST ORBITAL MANNED MISSION TO THE MOON.

Not counting Alice Kramden's trip there in 1955.

1978:  SPAIN BECOMES A DEMOCRACY AFTER 40 YEARS OF FASCIST DICTATORSHIP.

Because as Chevy Chase told us, that Franco guy finally died.

1983:  POPE JOHN PAUL II VISITS MEHMET ALI AGCA IN PRISON AND PERSONALLY FORGIVES HIM FOR THE 1981 ATTACK ON HIM.

"But don't do it again."

1985:  PALESTINIAN GUERRILLAS KILL 18 PEOPLE INSIDE THE AIRPORTS OF ROME, ITALY, AND VIENNA.

Random, I think not.

2002:  DIRECTOR GEORGE ROY HILL DIES.

Of all his great films, I think "A Little Romance" was my favorite.

2007:  FORMER PAKISTANI PRIME MINISTER BENAZIR BHUTTO IS ASSASSINATED.

Bye, Bye, Bhutto.

2012:  GENERAL NORMAN SCHWARZKOPF DIES.

Atten-shun.

2015:  HARLEM GLOBETROTTER MEADOWLARK LEMON DIES.

Fouled out.

2016:  ACTRESS CARRIE FISHER DIES.

You may have read this somewhere.

Dinner last night:  Leftover beef tenderloin.

Len's Recipe of the Month - December 2023

 

I posted this the last time I made a beef tenderloin for Christmas dinner and it bares repeating.   I was kind of meh on it, but my guests loved it.  

So here is the 2023 edition of Persillade Sauce, although it's not really saucy.   It's really a bunch of stuff chopped and minced together.   But it creates a perfect relish for your meat, which this year cost 242 dollars.

So how do you do it?

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.

Or so say my guests.

Dinner last night:  Beef tenderloin with.....ta da...Persillade sauce.

Merry Christmas From My Tree...

 

to yours.   Have a glorious Christmas Day.

Dinner last night:  Beef and broccoli.

The Sunday Memory Drawer - My Version of "The Night Before Christmas"

 

Back by popular demand.   Just like Linus and Frosty the Snowman, the holidays would not be the same without this tradition.

And what better thing to do on Christmas Eve than to bring back this warm chestnut from blog days past.  It worked before.   It will work again.

Just imagine us in front of a warm Christmas Eve fireplace. Snug as bugs in rugs. And I open this book to read it aloud to all assembled. 

How utterly delightful! 

How comforting! 

How could I possibly get through the whole thing without making a bunch of snarky comments?  The green print is the poem.   The blue print is yours truly.

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;

Okay, it's me now. An ignoble start to this Christmas chestnut, because right from the get-go, you find out they've got rodents in this place. 

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there. 

Giving rise to another horrible childhood nightmare when Monte, my "alleged  friend" up the block who liked to spew a lot of Catholic hate my way, told me that St. Nicholas was obviously Catholic and didn't visit Protestant homes. 

The children were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads; 

I have never dreamed of fruit. Even once. 

And Mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap, had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap, 

Bedtime headwear? The only person I ever saw in a nightcap was Fred Mertz. And what's with the nonsense about a nap? When you go to bed at nighttime, it's not a nap. It's called "going to sleep!" 

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. 

If there ever was commotion in our neighborhood, we didn't immediately think it was Santa Claus. It was probably the woman next door coming home drunk from the local gin mill. Once, she fell right through my grandmother's lilac bush. 

Away to the window I flew like a flash, tore open the shutter and threw up the sash. 

"Threw up the sash?" You never should have tried to eat it in the first place. 

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow gave the luster of mid-day to objects below, 

If I was reading this as a kid, I would have started to giggle at the mention of "breast" and probably not get through the rest of the poem. I'm just saying... 

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer, 

This is one of the only Christmas passages that gave you any perspective on the size of the reindeer. Were they babies? And, if so, is this not animal cruelty? Making these things run all over the world in one night?? 

With a little old driver, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. 

Had we no prior experience with Christmas, would we immediately know it was St. Nick? On any street corner in December, there are tons of imposters. There are myriad ways that a scam artist could bilk thousands of unsuspecting children on Christmas Eve. After all, nobody is awake to demand proper identification. 

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, and he whistled and shouted and called them by name; "Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!" 

Okay, no mention of Rudolph. When does he get invented? And perhaps he was nothing more than a urban legend designed to get Gene Autry a couple of Gold albums. And don't you wonder just a little about Vixen? With a name like that, I wonder which of the other reindeer she was doing. The smart money is on Dasher. 

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall! Now dash away! dash away! dash away all! 

I typed that just as Clement Moore wrote it originally. What's with the inability to capitalize properly? 

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky; 

Dry leaves? How do these turn up in a winter poem? My guess is that Moore started writing this in September or October and simply got sidetracked during the process. I know just how deadly writer's block can be. Who knows? Maybe this was supposed to be "Twas The Night Before Halloween." 

So up to the house-top the coursers they flew, with the sleigh full of Toys, and St. Nicholas too. 

So is this proof that Santa only brought toys? That runs contrary to some other images we have. Of Mr. Claus riding a Norelco razor up and down some snowdrifts. And Santa was prominently displayed on that carton of Kent cigarettes my mother always got as well as the box of Canadian Club my dad got from his friends around the corner. 

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof the prancing and pawing of each little hoof. 

The way our roof was arched, there was absolutely no way that the sleigh and reindeer could have kept their balance. At least, three of those suckers would have tumbled off. Right into Grandma's lilac bush, lying next to the drunken neighbor. 

As I drew in my head, and was turning around, down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound. 

You see, this always presented a major problem in our house. There was one chimney fireplace. In Grandma's dining room. And it was sealed with cement. I once asked her how Santa Claus could get in. She told me not to ask a lot of stupid question. 

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot, and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot; 

Dressed in fur? Are we absolutely 100% sure that there was a Mrs. Claus? Because the image I'm getting is Liberace. Except no gay guy allows himself to get this dirty ever. 

A bundle of toys he had flung on his back, and he looked like a peddler just opening his pack. 

You see a sprightly old gentleman? I'm seeing a homeless bum down in Santa Monica. 

His eyes---how they twinkled! his dimples how merry! His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! 

Possibly warning signs of melanoma or even high blood pressure. 

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow and the beard of his chin was as white as the snow; 

One verse later, we have our medical diagnosis. "Mouth drawn up like a bow." He's had a mild stroke. 

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath; 

A stroke brought on by heavy smoking. 

He had a broad face and a little round belly, that shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly. 

I never understood this image. Do me a favor. Take a jar of jelly and empty it into a bowl. It doesn't shake. It just lies there. Inert. Now, if Moore had known about Jell-O at the time, this reference would have worked. But, then, you have the rhyme problem. Jell-O, bellow, hello, mellow. The whole poem falls off the proverbial map. 

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, and I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself; 

Another misnomer. Fat people are not always happy. Most are depressed, having eaten themselves into a coma for deep seeded psychological reasons. 

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread; 

Or maybe I did. An old guy winking and making overt gestures. Hello, Pedophile. 

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, and filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk, 

Head twisting. Body jerking. I'm thinking Parkinson's. What about you?

And laying his finger aside of his nose, and giving a nod, up the chimney he rose; 

Once again, I'd ask my grandmother how Santa could get out with a sealed up  chimney in our house. Once again, I'd hear, "You ask too many stupid questions." 

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, and away they all flew like the down of a thistle, 

I never knew what a thistle was, let alone how much down you got from one. And, how about the noise this bunch generates as they leave? For what purpose? Aren't they simply going to fly over to the house next door? 

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night." 

Yeah! Me, too! 

Dinner last night:  Eggplant parm at Miceli's.

Classic Movie Trailer of the Month - December 2023

 Thirty years ago, this was the nigh Christmas movie release.  Go figure.

Dinner last night:  Sandwich.

It's A Merry Christmas on Madison Avenue

 ...with these wonderful vintage advertisements. 

Santa sings, "I see London, I see France, I see Mommy's underpants."  This is what happens the moment before the song starts about her kissing him.

Celebrate your holiday with a mass murder.

Because we all had at least one sloppy drunk in our families.

I love Lucy...and nicotine.  "Call for...Lung Cancer."

And when Sammy has that holiday hangover....

The gift that just keeps on rerunning.

Now you open your smart phone first because nobody takes pictures with instant cameras anymore.

"Screw the hot chocolate.  I want a Coke!"

So Santa's outfit will be nice and wrinkle-free.

Santa smokes Pall Malls.  So should you.

Dinner last night:  Pork chop at Otium.

Not Your Hallmark Christmas Movie

 

Well, here's another way you can celebrate the holidays at the movies.  But, trust me on this.  This is not a film you would mind on the Hallmark Channel.  There are no obvious plot points that will time the script for a kiss.   There's no warm hugs.   And it doesn't star Candace Cameron Bure.

And you actually have to go to a theater to see it.

That said, "The Holdovers" is well worth your holiday movie time.  Because while it is set at Christmas, it just as well could have been set on Arbor Day.  It's about broken people and, frankly, who among us isn't?  Just a little bit.  You get the good feels at the end but it's a long but compelling journey to get there.

First off, I am a sucker for anything director Alexander Payne does.   Truth be told, I met him twice at the hair salon when he and I seemed to be on the same haircut schedule.  His films are always an interesting blend of comedy and drama.   And he always manages to set them in the most desolate of places.  Nebraska in "Nebraska." Some sad Midwestern town in "Election." And, in "The Holdovers," a snow covered and gloomy male boarding school in 1970 Massachusetts.

The title refers to those "holdover" students who have no home to go to for Christmas break.   They hang back in achool and actually have class while others are vacationing.   This particular Christmas, the teacher is the toughest and most hated instructor.  The always welcome Paul Giamatti is marvelous as the most demanding and annoying teacher on the faculty.  

What starts out as a group of five students stuck at school whittles down to one---Angus Tully, whose mother is off on a honeymoon with hubby number 2.  Despite the fact that the kid is rich, his holiday is destined to be a lonely one.  This is the very first movie ever for newcomer Dominic Sessa and he likely will get a Supporting Actor nomination for his work here.  

Rounding out the unfortunate trio is cafeteria worker Mary, who is working the holiday to cover her grief over her son recently being killed in Vietnam.  Again, Da'vina Joy Randolph does solid work here and might be sharing a limo with Dominic on Oscar night.  Indeed, Giamatti will be hitching a ride with them as well.

"The Holdovers" is one of those movies where nothing happens and a lot happens under the surface.   The three characters are working out their personal issues individually and as a group.  The peeling back of each of these onions is slow, methodical, but so fascinating at the same time.  It's one of those movies where every word of dialogue has a purpose whether you realize it or not.

"The Holdovers" is no "Love Actually" and I doubt it will be a perennial Christmas watch.  But it might make my every-other-year rotation just to marvel at the acting one more time.

Check it out.

LEN'S RATING:  Three-and-a-half stars.

Dinner last night:  Sandwich.

This Date in History - December 20

 

Happy birthday to David Wright, who should have had a more robust baseball career than he did.   Damn injuries.

217:  CALLIXTUS I IS ELECTED AS THE SIXTEENTH POPE, ALTHOUGH HIPPOLYTUS OF ROME IS ELECTED AS A RIVAL POPE.

I see a reality TV show here.

1192:  RICHARD I OF ENGLAND IS CAPTURED AND IMPRISONED BY LEOPOLD V OF AUSTRIA ON HIS WAY HOME TO ENGLAND AFTER THE THIRD CRUSADE.

Another day I slept through in tenth grade World History.

1606:  THE VIRGINIA COMPANY LOADS THREE SHIPS WITH SETTLERS AND SETS SAIL TO ESTABLISH JAMESTOWN, THE FIRST PERMANENT ENGLISH SETTLE IN THE AMERICAS.

Permanent as in these guys are still there?

1803:  THE LOUISIANA PURCHASE IS COMPLETED AT A CEREMONY IN NEW ORLEANS.

Keep the receipt.

1860:  SOUTH CAROLINA BECOMES THE FIRST STATE TO ATTEMPT TO SECEDE FROM THE UNITED STATES.

If only that had been permanent.

1881:  BASEBALL EXECUTIVE BRANCH RICKEY IS BORN.

His father's name was Lime.

1916:  WORLD WAR I - THE BATTLE OF VERDUN RESULTS IN A FRENCH VICTORY AFTER MORE THAN 9 MONTHS OF FIGHTING.

The French had to win something sooner or later.

1924:  ADOLF HITLER IS RELEASED FROM LANDSBERG PRISON.

What a stupid parole officer.

1932:  ACTOR JOHN HILLERMAN IS BORN.

From "Magnum, PI."  One of those actors that I thought had already died until he actually did.

1942:  WORLD WAR II - JAPANESE AIR FORCES BOMB CALCUTTA, INDIA.

Meh.   But "Calcutta" was a great instrumental hit by Lawrence Welk.

1946:  PSYCHIC URI GELLER IS BORN.

Attention, all you spoons and forks.

1946:  TV PRODUCER DICK WOLF IS BORN.

At one time, he had every single show telecast on NBC.

1946:  THE MOVIE "IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE" IS RELEASED IN NY.

Oddly enough, it had originally come out in August.

1951:  THE EBR-1 IN ARCO, IDAHO BECOMES THE FIRST NUCLEAR POWER PLANT TO GENERATE ELECTRICITY, POWERING FOUR LIGHT BULBS.

Four light bulbs that are probably illegal in 2017.

1957:  THE INITIAL PRODUCTION VERSION OF THE BOEING 707 MAKES ITS FIRST FLIGHT.

Food for purchase.

1961:  PLAYWRIGHT MOSS HART DIES.

Mr. Kitty Carlisle.

1967:  A PENNSYLVANIA RAILROAD METROLINER EXCEEDS 155 MPH ON WHAT IS NOW AMTRAK'S NORTHEAST CORRIDOR.

Which means it forgot to stop at any stations.

1968:  THE ZODIAC KILLER KILLS TWO IN VALLEJO, CALIFORNIA.

Bad horoscopes.

1968:  AUTHOR JOHN STEINBECK DIES.

Of Mice and Corpses.

1971:  BUSINESSMAN ROY O. DISNEY DIES.

I didn't know they were Irish.

1971:  THE INTERNATIONAL AID ORGANIZATION DOCTORS WITHOUT BORDERS IS FOUNDED IN FRANCE.

Hey, we're all without Borders now that the book chain closed.

1973:  SINGER BOBBY DARIN DIES.

At 37.   Now that's young.

1982:  NEW YORK MET DAVID WRIGHT IS BORN.

Wow, he is already 41???

1985:  POPE JOHN PAUL II ANNOUNCES THE INSTITUTION OF WORLD YOUTH DAY.

Take a Youth to lunch.

1989:  THE UNITED STATES INVASION OF PANAMA DEPOSES MANUEL NORIEGA.

Adios.

1994:  POLITICIAN DEAN RUSK DIES.

The head of Rusk University?

1996:  AUTHOR CARL SAGAN DIES.

Into the cosmos.

2001:  COMIC FOSTER BROOKS DIES.

With all the liquor in him, he will never decompose.

2007:  ELIZABETH II BECOMES THE OLDEST MONARCH OF THE UNITED KINGDOM..

And used the same handbag all these years.

2009:  ACTOR ARNOLD STANG DIES.

Top Cat now on the bottom.

Dinner last night:  SPO from my freezer.

Yawn

 

"Maestro" is one of those Netflix movies that first opens in theaters for a few weeks and then shows up on the home stream.   My recommendation would be, if you choose to see it, viewing it in a theater is best.  No home sound system can provide you with the musical sounds that come out of this movie.

That said, my secondary suggestion might be to skip this all together.  This biopic of famed musical "maestro" Leonard Bernstein was obviously a labor of love for Bradley Cooper who wrote, directed, and stars in the film.   The only trouble is that there's not really a story here.   Essentially, it's about Bernstein's marriage to actress Felicia Monteleagre (anybody ever heard of her?).   While Cooper's portrayal seems to be one bordering on a Rich Little-like imitation, Carey Mulligan is more believable and likeable as Felicia.   Perhaps they should have called the movie "Mrs. Maestro."

Other than the superlative music, there is nothing here by way of a story.  Yes, the Bernstein union is rocky mainly because Leonard was bi-sexual.   In reality, who cares how he waves his baton?  If that's the only tension you can ratchet it up, the movie is effectively empty.   You just commute from tender moment to fight to tender moment t0 fight.   In reality, it's all none of our business and we easily could have gone on in life without knowing any of this information.

But, again...the music.   The sound of this movie is glorious.  Maybe you should just go out and buy the sound track album.

Hmm?  Can you still do that?

LEN'S RATING:  Two stars.

Dinner last night:  Salisbury steak.