Nobody Cares

 

I certainly don't.  And it's sad because I used to.

Since I was in the third grade and my teacher, Mrs. Popper, told us to stay up late and watch the telecast, I was hooked.  I planned my life around the event.  Years later in Los Angeles, this would be the attraction for my annual chili party.

I also used to participate in an Oscar pool with two good friends.   On this blog, I annually would post my picks so everybody could win their office pool.   Well, COVID took care of that unless you want to do it on an office Zoom.  But, looking back at it all, the Oscars were such fun.

The point being is I, in 2025, didn't realize the Oscars were this Sunday until I was driving home from Arizona last week and some satellite radio DJ mentioned it.   That's just how irrelevant the Oscars have become to me.   And I am guessing most people.

In past years, I would have pretty much seen all the nominees in most categories.  Now there are up to ten movies up for Best Picture and I have seen only a few.   And the ones I did screen were lousy or overrated at best.

Looking at the names of the actors up, I see that diversity is alive and well in Hollywood with nominees nobody has heard of.   Or, in one, a transgender is up for Best Actress but used to identify as a....you finish the sentence.  

Nobody cares.

If you thought the Oscars were irrelevant, no better proof is in the choice of this year's host.  Conan O'Brien.   Yes, the guy who used to have a TV show.   The guy who used to have a following.  Yep, that guy.

And nobody cares.

Of course, the broadcast itself will be a tough watch.  Every single acceptance speech will include barbs thrown at Trump, Musk, and, for good measure, Dwight Eisenhower.   When not waxing hate at Washington, each winner will take time to salute the LA firefighters who battled the January blazes.   It's all so predictable that it's nauseating.

And nobody cares.   I am estimating this will be the lowest rated Oscar ceremony ever.   For all of the reasons above.

Frankly, I started to turn away from it all several years ago when I was talking to a guy in my church who helped to create the voting software used by the Academy.  He told me there was a three person panel who had the power to overturn the winner if they wanted something else to be the victor.  The very next year was the fiasco where the award for Best Picture was allegedly going to the crowd-pleasing "La La Land" but instead went to the dreary but diverse "Moonlight."  I asked my contact if that was evidence of a panel getting involved to reverse the vote.

"No comment."

That was when I stopped caring.

And now nobody does.

So, if you're one of the three people in this country still participating in an office pool...um, you're on your own.

Dinner last night:   Went to the theater for a show so not much.

Hollywood Then and Now - February 2025

This comparison never gets old for me.   

You can still see how multicam sitcoms started in this photo where studio audiences lined up for this golden new genre.

Today, I still regularly go past the same building.   And you can still probably hear Desi laughing.

Dinner last night:  Had a big lunch so just some chips and salsa.

This Date in History - February 26

 

Happy birthday in Heaven  to Tom Kennedy.   Remember...it's not what you say...it's what...

364:  VALENTINIAN I IS PROCLAIMED ROMAN EMPEROR.

We can't do one of these Wednesdays without at least one knucklehead becoming Roman Emperor.

1233:  DURING THE MONGOL-JIN WAR, THE MONGOLS CAPTURE THE CAPITAL OF THE JIN DYNASTY.

Well, naturally...

1658:  AFTER A DEVASTATING DEFEAT IN THE NORTHERN WAR, THE KING OF DENMARK-NORWAY IS FORCED TO GIVE UP NEARLY HALF HIS TERRITORY TO SWEDEN.

Who knew there was such unrest in a country that ultimately gave us Inger Stevens?

1802:  AUTHOR VICTOR HUGO IS BORN.

Where ever hugo...

1815:  NAPOLEON BONAPARTE ESCAPES FROM ELBA.

If you're gonna keep that hand in your jacket, you can at least pull out your wallet when the dinner check comes.

1829:  DESIGNER LEVI STRAUSS IS BORN.

Do you have a 31 length please?

1846:  SOLDIER BUFFALO BILL IS BORN.

Thirty-nine more and you've got yourself a football team.

1887:  ACTOR WILLIAM FRAWLEY IS BORN.

Fred!!!!!

1908:  ANIMATOR TEX AVERY IS BORN.

Genius.

1909:  KINEMACOLOR, THE FIRST SUCCESSFUL COLOR MOTION PICTURE PROCESS, IS FIRST SHOWN TO THE PUBLIC IN LONDON.

Spellcheck!

1914: HMHS BRITANNIC, SISTER TO RMS TITANIC, IS LAUNCHED IN BELFAST.

Hope it stays afloat longer.

1917:  THE ORIGINAL DIXIELAND JAZZ BAND RECORDS THE FIRST JAZZ RECORD IN NEW YORK.

Well, what did you think they were going to record?  Show tunes??

1919:  PRESIDENT WOODROW WILSON SIGNS AN ACT OF THE US CONGRESS ESTABLISHING MOST OF THE GRAND CANYON AS A NATIONAL PARK.

When does the gift shop open?

1920:  ACTOR TONY RANDALL IS BORN.

Oscar, Oscar, Oscar.

1920: THE FIRST GERMAN EXPRESSIONIST FILM, THE CABINET OF DR. CALIGARI, PREMIERES IN BERLIN.

Achtung.

1921:  ACTRESS BETTY HUTTON IS BORN.

She said you can't get a man without a gun.  But then she moved in with a bunch of nuns.  You can't get a man there either.

1927:  GAME SHOW HOST TOM KENNEDY IS BORN.

The brother of game show host Jack Narz.

1928:  SINGER FATS DOMINO IS BORN.

Ain't misbehavin'.

1932:  SINGER JOHNNY CASH IS BORN.

Odds are 3-1 he came out of the womb high.

1935:  ADOLF HITLER ORDERS THE LUFTWAFFE TO BE RE-FORMED, VIOLATING THE PROVISIONS OF THE TREATY OF VERSAILLES.

Surprised?  Anybody?

1946:  FINNISH OBSERVERS REPORT THE FIRST OF MANY SIGHTINGS OF GHOST ROCKETS.

So I guess all the kooks aren't in Arkansas.

1966:  HERALDING THE APOLLO PROGRAM, THE FIRST SATURN IB ROCKET IS LAUNCHED.  

One small step coming...

1971:  UN SECRETARY GENERAL U THANT SIGNS THE UN PROCLAMATION OF EARTH DAY.

If Ella Fitzgerald had married U Thant, she would have been Ella Thant.

1980:  EGYPT AND ISRAEL ESTABLISH FULL DIPLOMATIC RELATIONS.

Who are they kidding?

1987:  DURING THE IRAN-CONTRA AFFAIR, THE TOWER COMMISSION REBUKES PRESIDENT RONALD REAGAN FOR NOT CONTROLLING HIS NATIONAL SECURITY STAFF.

"I have a national security staff?"

1993:  IN NEW YORK CITY, A TRUCK BOMB PARKED BELOW THE WORLD TRADE CENTER EXPLODES, KILLING SIX AND INJURING OVER A THOUSAND.

That was just the appetizer.

1997:  ACTOR DAVID DOYLE DIES.

Hello, Angels.

1995:  SELINA GAVE HER LAST "LIVE" CONCERT IN HOUSTON, A FEW DAYS BEFORE SHE WAS SHOT.

And then she gave her first "dead" concert.

2013:  ACTOR DALE ROBERTSON DIES.

The last Tale of Wells Fargo.

2017:  JUDGE JOSEPH WAPNER DIES.

Sustained.

Dinner last night:  Leftover sausage chili.

With A Z

 

She's a complete mess these days, but she still gets a decent documentary.

It was a matter of time for some documentarian like Bruce David Klein to throw the spotlight on Miss Liza and he's smart enough to do it while she is still coherent and has memories.   As a result, this is a captivating look at a Hollywood legend regardless of whether you like her or not.  Back in the day, there was nobody hotter.

Klein got lots of home movie footage from the star and, as a result, you get a truly inside look...warts and all.  From stardom to Oscar to Emmy to Tony to five different husbands (most of them gay), you see and hear it all.   Vintage clips of Liza performing add to the enjoyment.   Like her mother, there was no voice more recognizable.   

The warts you get are from the Studio 54 years where liquor and pills overcame Liza.  To her credit, she cleaned up her act at Betty Ford.  But, before that, there were likely times where Liza was a real bitch to deal with.  I can remember a good friend of mine who was producing a TV talk show and Liza was a guest.  Production was held up for seven hours so they could sober her up.   

On that day, life was a Cabernet.  

The alcohol and drug usage is mentioned, but not focused on.   And there are really interesting talking heads like Michael Feinstein, John Kander, and Lorna Luft.  Sure, the film is more of a love letter than an expose.  But, it's a perfect glimpse of a true superstar.   And we are certainly running out of them fast.

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

Dinner last night:  Cheese and crackers.

Monday Morning Video Laugh - February 24, 2025

 Boy, do we miss Robin Williams?!

Dinner last night:  Pizza with the works at Lil Capo in Glendale, Arizona.

The Sunday Memory Drawer - Friends That Aren't Really...

 

In last week's post, I wrote about some birthday parties of the past.  A friend asked me how come my neighborhood buddies weren't at the party.

I don't know.

A grade school friend wondered why kids from my elementary school weren't at the party.

I don't know.

Yet, the kitchen table around a candle-laden strawberry shortcake was filled.   With my older cousins who didn't want to be there.   And a bunch of forced friends.  The children of my parents' chums.   Tossed together for afternoons of fun and frivolity.  Kids who I saw repeatedly for about five years.   And then never again.

Yeah, to this day, I don't know.   And they wonder why I would mope in a chair and stare blankly at the television set.

I've written about some of these people before.  But the photos from my childhood birthday gatherings bring all the memories to the forefront one more time.

What the hell was I doing with these kids?

Back in the day, Sundays were special.   You used the day to go visiting friends and relatives.  You were over this aunt's house or this cousin's place.  You might have a big meal and then, around five o'clock, a cold supper of delicatessen food.  

My parents cast a wide net when it came to visiting people.   It wasn't just relatives.   They seemed to have an endless array of friends from their workplaces, old neighborhoods, and the like.   For about five years, my mom and dad were virtual social butterflies.  Every Sunday was with some other family.  Out on Long Island.  Or in the Bronx.  Or maybe just around the corner.  Regardless of the locale, they were never home.

And I was always dragged along.  Thrown haphazardly together with the children of those friends.  

"Here, go play with them."

Like it or not.  

The adults would sit in the kitchen and gossip and smoke and drink and gossip a little more and smoke and drink a lot more.   Meanwhile, I was supposed to be best buddies with some stranger that I saw maybe six months ago.

Just a few block away from our house in Mount Vernon, New York, there was my mom's best friend, Ronnie, whose main claim to fame was that she was the spitting image of Susan Hayward.  Dad was pals with her husband, Larry, who owned the local gas station.   The four of them were as thick as thieves.   We even went on vacation to Atlantic City once.

Me?   I was saddled with the two daughters, Susan and Nancy.   And when you're on their home turf, you find yourself having to adapt to whatever games they are used to playing.  I'm surprised that I didn't grow up to become a character actor, since I was always forced to fit into some play-acting scenario with these gremlins.

With Susan and Nancy, it was "school."

"Okay, we're the teachers and you're the student."

Why do there have to be two teachers?

"Well, one teaches arithmetic and the other teaches social studies."

Oh.

It was bad enough that I was forced to go to regular school.  Now I was stuck there on a Sunday afternoon and I had two whole subjects to boot.  Within five minutes, I'd fall into a coma.

"You didn't answer my question, Lenny."

Shut the F up.

There was a whole different kind of drama going on in Hartsdale, New York whenever my folks would go to see their friends, Nancy and Dan.  I still pass their house from time to time and get the shivers.  In that home, I was tossed in with their daughter Ellen, who was a little advanced for her age and a lot more advanced for my age.  

Ellen liked to play house with stark realism.  She was the mommy.  I was the daddy.  And some ragtag doll was our kid.  And it was a loving little family unit.  

Ellen, for some reason, was a little physical.  In this game, she liked to hug and kiss me.  Wow, where was she getting this?   What was going in this house when the lights are out?  

At one point, she pulled me into a corner of a dark hallway.

"Let's cuddle."

What?????

At some point, our moms passed by and asked what we were doing sitting in the dark.  Ellen piped right up.

"Go away, we're in love!"

AUDIBLE SCREAM.  

For God's sake, I was six at the time!

I have no idea what became of Ellen.  Or what street corner she ultimately was working.

I've written before of my mother's rather high-falutin' pal, Marie, who may have been the ultimate version of little Ellen.  My mother looked up to Marie as a role model and frequently copied her actions.  I never could understand the attraction, but then again, I was only seven.

Of course, as Mom cultivated her friendship with Marie, she liked to plan outings between our two families.  Since Marie apparently thought we were living on Tobacco Road over there in lowly Mount Vernon, we'd almost always go over to visit them on their home field in Yonkers.  While the two women gabbed away, my dad and I were uneasily thrown together with our counterparts in Marie's world.  And they were not perfect fits to say the least.  For once, my dad could appreciate how I felt with these forced friendships.

My father and Rich seemed to have nothing in common.  I remember them talking briefly and then sitting in cold silence as the topic of weather was exhausted quickly.  Rich was big and brawny and probably had the brain of somebody from the Ozarks.  In comparison, he'd make Jethro Bodine look like cafe society.  I could tell that my dad certainly wanted to be any place but with anyone else but.  

Me?  I was stuck with their lummox of a son, Richie.

Hey, Mom, what am I supposed to do there all day?

"You can play with Richie in his room."

Uh-huh. 

Richie was a few months older but light years behind in social graces.  Virtually every toy he had involved the military and some form of combat from World War II.    With game and play scenarios that might have been concocted in General Dwight D. Eisenhower's war room.

"Okay, you're the Kraut soldier and you have to hide under the bed until I invade and then kill you."

May I also add that his method of "killing" always included punching me in the arm.  Excessively.  The Nazis on Normandy Beach got off easier than I did in Richie's stalag of a bedroom.  Can we play something else, please?

"Okay, you're the Jap hiding on this beach.  Take your shirt off, hide under the bed until I land in my helicopter and then kill you."

Take my shirt off?  This was a request that kept turning up more and more in our games.   Years later, I am thinking that there were issues with Richie that ran a lot deeper than the blood shed on Midway Island.  I'd wait for the words from my mother that never came soon enough.

"We're going home."

Whew.

"And why is your shirt off?"

I'm still waiting to hear one day that Richie has shot the President of the United States.

At one point, my parents must have been seeking some diversity in friends.  Mom became pals with a woman who lived in the eyesore of an apartment building across the street.  Her name was Marilyn, married to Abe, and mother to two clowns named Michael and Lori.  Almost overnight, my parents and them were inseparable.  I thought nothing of it at the time.  But, my ever watchful grandmother had something to say from her own distinctly different viewpoint where everybody that wasn't Lutheran was suspect.

"Are your mother and father going to become Jewish?"

Huh?  I didn't know what that meant.  So I decided to fact check with Mom.

"Yes, Michael and Lori are  Jewish."

What?

"They're Jewish."

Whenever my mother's voice tailed off like that, she was trying to cover up some information.   She also did it with most religions that weren't Protestant and most nationalities except for Italians.

It was a different day and a different time.

We ended up actually spending a Passover dinner with them in their apartment.  My mother tried to give me the back story on it all.   But, I just stared at the food, which certainly didn't look like the Virginia Ham Grandma always cooked up for big holidays.   I was seated at a children's table with my new besties, Michael and Lori.  They started to talk in what I now assume was Hebrew or Yiddish.  I was totally in over my head.

Oddly enough, we never really saw much of them after that dinner.  One day, I asked what had happened.

"Your father didn't like the food."

Oh.  Thank you, Dad.

Marilyn and Abe were soon replaced in my parents' orbit by a couple of Greeks in the apartment building on First Street.   Eppie and Nick.   My mother had met Eppie at work and they clicked.   Once again, we were off to the races.   And I was presented with a couple more weird-ohs.  George and Effie.  Yes, you read that right.  Eppie's daughter was Effie.  Thank God they didn't name their son Rick.  

Anyway, one more time, I was thrust into some kids' play areas and forced to adapt myself to their favorite play scenarios.  George was into fish and aquariums.   He also spent way too much time watching Chiller Theater on Channel 11.   Every game turned out to be a knock-off of "The Creature from the Black Lagoon."  

Unlike with that asshole Richie, I always got to be the hero with George.  He liked to be the monster who I always got to kill.  Meanwhile, Effie was tied to a chair, sometimes literally.  The damsel in distress.  George particularly liked to pretend his death was by drowning.

"Glub, glub, glub, glub."  

Since he was the director of this drama, I was instructed that I had to "swim" over to save Effie.  

Huh?

Across the linoleum floor, that is.  Meanwhile, I started to wonder why George was so preoccupied with his own demise.

Sadly, we didn't get rid of this bunch as quickly.   They moved out to Lake Ronkonkoma, which is somewhere either on Long Island or the Moon.  Nevertheless, we followed them out there for Sunday visits.   

Now in the equation was George and Effie's grandmother.  Somebody named "Ya Ya" who wore a net on her head and had been dressed in black since the days when Adlai Stevenson was considered Presidential timber.  "Ya Ya" comannded the part of the house that included the one TV and my undying connection to the Mets.  The only trouble was she claimed that her TV didn't pick up Channel 9 for the ballgames.

"Go play in the yard with George and Effie."

Groan.

Now with a big house and an even bigger yard, George's imagination ran wild.

"Okay, you come and stab me in the heart with this branch."

"You kill me and then pull Effie down from the tree."

"You push me into the BBQ grill and I will burn to death."

Years later, I have no clue whatever happened to Susan, Nancy, Ellen, Michael, Lori, George, and Effie.   I guess I could look for them on the internet.

I don't want to.  That speaks volumes for the forced friendships of my childhood.   Indeed, even my parents eventually lost interest in these families.  I can't say I blamed them.

I had lost interest a long time before that.

Dinner last night:   BBQ pork and kimchi fried rice at the Thirsty Lion in Glendale, Arizona.

Classic Movie Trailer of the Month - February 2025

 Fifty years old this month.  And I'm still in love with Katherine Ross.

Dinner last night:  Fried chicken sandwich at Flankers in Glendale, Arizona.

Frosty Who?

 

Dinner last night:  Dan Dan Noodles from PF Chang's.

Ding Dong

 

Or maybe today's blog entry should be called "There Is Hope After All."  I don't know.   I was conflicted.   But you will get the idea a few paragraphs from now.

It was all so innocent and simple.  I had gone for my regular chiropractor appointment.   Working out the knots of tension.   I had parked on the street.  And was as light as air as they returned to my car.   As I slid into the driver's seat, I saw it on the windshield.

A parking violation envelope.

And the tension returned almost instantly.   I looked around.   I was in a legal space.   I had put my ADA placard where all could see and that little sign means I don't have to feed a meter.  I grabbed the envelope while dropping F-bombs as if it was Hiroshima 1945.

Turns out it was not a ticket, but a note.

"Text or call me.  I accidentally hit the left bumper of your car.  I am so so sorry."

I didn't know how to react.   At first, I checked out the damage and, with my hand, I was able to make the scratches disappear.   One, however, did scrape a little paint and probably will require some auto body work.

But that didn't bother me.   This was one auto mishap that actually made me smile.   Because this girl (I could tell by her name) did something that 99.9999% of the cretins around us would never do.   It's sparked my hope for humanity.

The damage is minimal but will probably have a cost attached.   She was thankful that I was so easy on her and that I was not trading insurance information.  If there is a cost for repair, we will deal with it like civilized folks.  At one point, she asked if I was from NY.   I don't know why, considering I wasn't screaming at her like a New Yorker.  Nope, it was because of my accent.  

I looked her up on Instagram when I got home and it turns out she's probably around 30 years old.  And quite attractive.   If there weren't a 25-30 difference in ages, this would have a great "meet cute" for a Hallmark movie.

Okay, Len, what are you thinking?   Just be happy and content that there are decent people still left in this world.

Dinner last night:  Beef stir fry.

This Date in History - February 19

 

Happy birthday to Smokey Robinson.  Ah, the miracle of childbirth.

197:   EMPEROR SEPTIMIUS SEVERUS DEFEATS USURPER CLODIUS ALBINUS IN THE BATTLE OF LUGDUNUM.

Five points if you know either of these guys and where Lugdunum is.

356:  EMPEROR CONSTANTIUS II ISSUES A DECREE CLOSING ALL PAGAN TEMPLES IN THE ROMAN EMPIRE.

So, I'm assuming he is anti-Pagan.

1600:  THE PERUVIAN STRATOVOLCANO HUAYNAPUTINA EXPLODES IN THE MOST VIOLENT RECORDED ERUPTION OF SOUTH AMERICA.

Was the stratovolcano by the same people who produced Strat-O-Matic Baseball?

1807:  FORMER US VICE PRESIDENT AARON BURR IS ARRESTED FOR TREASON IN ALABAMA.

Hence, the word "former."

1846:  IN AUSTIN, TEXAS, THE NEWLY FORMED TEXAS STATE GOVERNMENT IS OFFICIALLY INSTALLED.  

Today, they want to be their own country.

1847:  THE FIRST GROUP OF RESCUERS REACHES THE DONNER PARTY.

And why do I think this group failed, necessitating a second group of rescuers?

1859:  DANIEL E. SICKLES, A NEW YORK CONGRESSMAN, IS ACQUITTED OF MURDER ON GROUNDS OF TEMPORARY INSANITY.

As opposed to NY Congressman Charles Rangel, whose insanity was permanent.

1861:  SERFDOM IS ABOLISHED IN RUSSIA.

Serfs Up!

1878:  THOMAS EDISON PATENTS THE PHONOGRAPH.

So we should blame him for Lady GaGa.

1884:  MORE THAN SIXTY TORNADOES STRIKE THE SOUTHERN US.

The nineteenth century's edition of Global Warming.

1916:  JOCKEY EDDIE ARCARO IS BORN.

Paying $5.50, $4.30, and $3.70.

1940:  SINGER SMOKEY ROBINSON IS BORN.

Named because one of his relatives wanted to remind him always that he was Black.  Okay, done.

1942:  DURING WORLD WAR II, NEARLY 250 JAPANESE WARPLANES ATTACK THE AUSTRALIAN CITY OF DARWIN.

I never knew that Australia was under attack, too.

1942:  PRESIDENT FRANKLIN D. ROOSEVELT SIGNS THE EXECUTIVE ORDER 9066, ALLOWING FOR JAPANESE-AMERICANS TO BE RELOCATED INTO INTERNMENT CAMPS.

That's what they get for bombing kangaroos.

 1945:  ABOUT 30,000 US MARINES LAND ON THE ISLAND OF IWO JIMA.

Who's got the flag???

1953:  GEORGIA APPROVES THE FIRST LITERATURE CENSORSHIP BOARD IN THE US.

For those in the state who could actually read.

1963: THE PUBLICATION OF BETTY FRIEDAN'S "THE FEMININE MYSTIQUE."

The end of the American housewife begins.

1969:  ACTRESS MADGE BLAKE DIES.

Aunt Harriet on TV's "Batman."

1976:  EXECUTIVE ORDER 9066, AS BEGAN IN 1942, IS RESCINDED BY PRESIDENT GERALD FORD.

Well, it was fun while it lasted.

1985:  WILLIAM SCHROEDER BECOMES THE FIRST RECIPIENT OF AN ARTIFICIAL HEART TO LEAVE THE HOSPITAL.

Key phrase is "leave the hospital."

1996:  BASEBALL OWNER CHARLIE FINLEY DIES.

Now who's the real jackass?

2001:  THE OKLAHOMA CITY BOMBING MUSEUM IS DEDICATED.

Wow, that went up fast.  Unlike the memorial near Ground Zero.

2001:  FILM DIRECTOR STANLEY KRAMER DIES.

Guess Who's Coming to Heaven?

2003:  SINGER JOHNNY PAYCHECK DIES.

Cashing it in.

2016:  AUTHOR HARPER LEE DIES.

Mockingbird.  Dead.

Dinner last night:   Chili from my freezer.

Len's Recipe of the Month - February 2025

 

Back when I was a kid, my parents and I had a roast dinner every Sunday around 2PM.   A very nice and sweet tradition in retrospect.

Now my dad often did the cooking and, for a while, he loved to make a dish that became quite popular in the day.  London Broil.   The attraction of this piece of meat was that it could be tasty but it was from the part of the cow that is reasonably inexpensive.

Truth be told, I was not a fan as Dad didn't necessarily have success making it. The end product was often gray in color and chewy.  He truly cooked it too long.

I've been thinking about this of late and given that I am now a better chef than both of my parents ever were, could I possibly make a good London Broil.   With my research, I did and see the result above.   Not a gray speck in the photo.

The secret is a 24-hour-marinade and I'm pretty sure my father never marinaded anything.  This guarantees the meat will be flavorful.   Now, there are several ways to do this per the internet.   But I will detail my route.

First, I got a rather small-ish London Broil.   Some comes two to three inches high.   I went small first for my experiment.

Next, the marinade.   I pulled a few from the internet but also added my touch.

In a bowl, mix the following.

1/3 cup soy sauce.

2 tablespoons of balsamic vinegar.

3 tablespoons of EVO.

1 tablespoon of brown sugar.

Salt and pepper.

4 cloves of minced garlic.

Place the meat in a freezer lock bag and pour the mixture in.   Put it in the refrigerator for at least one day.

Okay, a lot of on-line cooks tell you to cook the meat in the oven broiler or on a grill.  I used a cast-iron pan and it worked just fine.  Pat the meat dry and put it in a sizzling pan.

Sear it on one side for about ten minutes.  Flip it and then let it go on this hot pan another five minutes.

Remove from heat and tent it with foil for at least 15 to 20 minutes so juices can circulate.   You should still have the marinade liquid in the bag.   You could use it to make a sauce.   I used it as the base to saute two cups of baby bella mushrooms.

Slice the meat on a angle and enjoy with the mushrooms.

Sorry, Dad.   I outdid you this time.

Dinner last night:  Salad with leftover...London broil.

Monday Morning Video Laugh - February 17, 2025

 These never ever get old.

Dinner last night:  London broil and sauted mushrooms.

The Sunday Memory Drawer - When Birthdays Attack

 

Yeah, that's sort of the look I have every year at this time.  

Not to be completely narcissistic, my birthday was last week.  This is not mentioned to induce any congratulatory words or merit undue attention.  I clearly hate the spotlight and always have.  Why then, you may ask, do you open up your life every day and in every way on this blog?

I never promised you a simple human being, did I?  

But, indeed, I have always been uncomfortable getting any attention, both good or bad.  And, of course, the celebration of one's birthday is the annual pinnacle of being focused upon.  It has never been easy for me, but, these days, the day arrives with even more intensity.  There are Facebook greetings from people you haven't seen in thirty years.  Folks are reminded on that website that there is a birthday to be recognized on that day.   Like a robot, you respond with a message.  I'm the same way.

"Happy, happy birthday.  Have a great day."

Of course, if it's somebody I am close with, the greeting is more personalized.  But, those folks are likely still getting the old fashioned recognition from me.

Yes, I still send a birthday card.  In an envelope.  With a stamp.  I'm stuck in the past and loving it.

Unlike some people,  I view every birthday equally.  No one year is more important than the next or the last.   I don't pay more attention to those ages that end with a "5" or a "0."  To me, age is still a number and not representative of who you are as a person.  Besides, when I think of my parents at the age that I now possess, we are as different as night and day.  Yes, ninety is the new eighty.  Eighty is the new seventy.  And orange is the new black.  Whatever.

Truth be told, I prefer the day to pass simply.  If there's dinner with a good friend or two, that's ideal.  For years here in Los Angeles, my writing partner and my good friend, Djinn from the Bronx, did this round robin birthday tournament.  Two of the three would take the third out to a surprise restaurant.  We never went to the same place twice.  And ultimately sampled the best eateries in town.  Other friends participate with me throughout the month of February.  A good meal with a terrific pal is perfect.

A few years ago, I actually and unintentionally returned to the scene of the crime.  I spent my birthday in New York for the first time since 1997.  As I looked at the calendar, I realized that my birthday, as it did in that year, fell on a Tuesday.  Two days later in 1997, I moved to Los Angeles.  On February 13, 2014, I was also scheduled for a flight to Los Angeles.   Symmetry that is interesting but ultimately means nothing.  I will, however, never fly on my actual birthday.  That's too convenient a feng shui for the fatalist buried inside me.

Meanwhile, the symmetry didn't hold up.   A major snow storm pushed my flight to Friday.  And the birthday week took another hit.

So, as simple as I like my birthday, there have been years where it was much more.  Whether I liked it or, in most cases, not.

Look at the photo above.  In my family, hosting a birthday party for one of the kids was a D-Day-like military ploy.  My older cousins would be there with their minds elsewhere.  The children of my mother's friends would be there and, other than their own birthday parties, we never saw each other.  Where were my neighborhood pals?   Where were my classmates?   The kids I was going through the wars with each and every day.

Another mystery of life I never could understand.   You can see how puzzled I am in this photo.  I still don't.

Dinner last night:  BBQ Chicken Breasts at the home of good friends Amir and Kevin.

Classic TV Theme Song of the Month - February 2025

This was in its first season...fifty years ago this month.  The show never really caught on. 

Dinner last night:  Sandwich.

Will You Be My Whatever?

 

Dinner last night:    Leftover chicken cacciatore from my freezer.

F Bombs Away

 

For those that are still paying attention, "Anora" is one of the front runners to win the Oscar for Best Picture.  It's got a bunch of other noms including somebody named Mikey Madison for Best Actress.  Despite my disdain these days for anything Oscar, I decided to give it a ride.

I must admit that I was entertained by this movie which walks the tightrope of being a drama and a raucous comedy.  Or should I say "fucking" movie?   Because there is a lot of that as a verb.  And an adjective.   And a noun?  And a dangling participle. If director Sean Baker was paid by the use of this word throughout the script, he literally would win the equivalent of a Power Ball.

Because the word is used a fucking lot.

Anora is a NYC sex worker.   That's the nice way of calling her a paid whore who...fucks...a lot.  One night at a sex club, she hooks up with a 21-year-old Russian with a ton of money.  After some fucking...the verb..., they actually head off to Vegas and get married.  Then they settle down in some fucking...the adjective...Long Island mansion.

But they don't live happily fucking after.  It turns out the boy is the son of one of Putin's oligarchs who sends some Russian thugs to break up the marriage.  By break up the marriage, they mean lots of fucking punches to the body.  The boy runs away, leaving Anora to fend off the cretins as best as she fucking knows how.

As I said, the movie manages to walk the fine line of drama and comedy, because Anora's dialogue with the thugs...punches to the face notwithstanding...is pretty amusing.   Indeed, I somehow found this all entertaining, so fuck me.  Is it the best fucking picture of the year?   Let's see what the Oscar voters say.  

In a now traditional lackluster Oscar season, "Anora" just might fucking surprise us all.

LEN'S RATING:  Three stars.

Dinner last night:  Leftover eggplant.

This Date in History - February 12

 

Happy birthday, Abraham Lincoln.   I'm sorry you now have to share your birthday with George Washington.

41:  BRITANNICUS, ROMAN SON OF CLAUDIUS, IS BORN.

And his sister Encyclopedia.

881:  POPE JOHN VIII CROWNS CHARLES THE FAT HOLY ROMAN EMPEROR.

So if Charles loses a lot of weight, does his title change?

1502:  VASCO DA GAMA SETS SAILS FROM SPAIN ON HIS SECOND VOYAGE TO INDIA.

For me, one voyage to India would be plenty.

1541:  SANTIAGO, CHILE IS FOUNDED BY PEDRA DE VALDIVIA.

I think Valdivia, Chile sounds nicer.

1554:  A YEAR AFTER CLAIMING THE THRONE OF ENGLAND FOR NINE DAYS, LADY JANE GREY IS BEHEADED FOR TREASON.

For her country, she gave...her head.  And you thought that was going to be a dirty joke.

1733: ENGLISHMAN JAMES OLGETHORPE FOUNDS GEORGIA, THE 13TH COLONY OF THE THIRTEEN COLONIES.

So how come it's not the Oglethorpe Braves?

1789:  POLITICIAN ETHAN ALLEN DIES.

But there's a big furniture sale today.

1809:  THEORIST CHARLES DARWIN IS BORN.

Or descended.

1809:  PRESIDENT ABRAHAM LINCOLN IS BORN.

On the same day as Darwin.   I love what we learn every Wednesday.

1832:  ECUADOR ANNEXES THE GALAPAGOS ISLANDS.

Love those turtles.

1855:  MICHIGAN STATE UNIVERSITY IS ESTABLISHED.

When's kick-off?

1907:  ACTOR JOSEPH KEARNS IS BORN.

Hey, Mr. Wilson!

1909:  THE NATIONAL ASSOCIATION FOR THE ADVANCEMENT OF COLORED PEOPLE (NAACP) IS FOUNDED.

So how come they haven't changed the name of this organization, eh?

1914:  IN WASHINGTON DC, THE FIRST STONE OF THE LINCOLN MEMORIAL IS PUT INTO PLACE.

Aw, on his birthday.  How clever.

1915:  ACTOR LORNE GREENE IS BORN.

Bonanza!!

1926:  BASEBALL PERSONALITY JOE GARAGIOLA IS BORN.

My grandmother used to call him Joe Garabaldi.

1934:  BASKETBALL STAR BILL RUSSELL IS BORN.

Score the goal.

1935:  USS MACON, ONE OF THE TWO LARGEST HELIUM-FILLED AIRSHIPS EVER CREATED, CRASHES INTO THE PACIFIC OCEAN OFF THE COAST OF CALIFORNIA.

Well, there were two.

1946:  AFRICAN AMERICAN US ARMY VETERAN ISAAC WOODARD IS SEVERELY BEATEN BY A SOUTH CAROLINA POLICE OFFICER TO THE POINT WHERE HE LOSES HIS VISION IS BOTH EYES.  THIS GALVANIZES THE CIVIL RIGHTS MOVEMENT.

Okay, back in 1946, he wasn't called an African American.  He was probably called "colored."

1947:  CHRISTIAN DIOR UNVEILS A NEW LOOK, HELPING PARIS REGAIN ITS POSITION AS THE CAPITAL OF THE FASHION WORLD.

As if it was going to be in Prague.

1963:  CONSTRUCTION BEGINS ON THE GATEWAY ARCH IN ST. LOUIS.

A landmark that I've never really understood.   I mean...it's nothing but an arch.

1974:  ALEKSANDR SOLZHENITSYN, WINNER OF THE 1970 LITERATURE NOBEL PRIZE, IS EXILED FROM THE SOVIET UNION.

He needs to buy a vowel.

1976:  ACTOR SAL MINEO DIES.

Well, murdered really.   And I drive by the spot frequently.

1994:  FOUR MEN BREAK INTO THE NATIONAL GALLERY OF NORWAY AND STEAL EDVARD MUNCH'S ICONIC PAINTING THE SCREAM.

Now it really has something to scream about.

1999:  PRESIDENT BILL CLINTON IS ACQUITTED BY THE UNITED STATES SENATE IN HIS IMPEACHMENT TRIAL.

Lincoln never had an intern.

2000:  FOOTBALL COACH TOM LANDRY DIES.

No overtime for him.

2000:  CARTOONIST CHARLES M. SCHULZ DIES.

What are you gonna do now, Charlie Brown?

2004:  THE CITY OF SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA BEGINS ISSUING MARRIAGE LICENSES TO SAME-SEX COUPLES.

As if you thought this was going to happen in Omaha.

2001:  ACTRESS BETTY GARRETT DIES.

From On the Town to Under It.

2011:  ACTOR KENNETH MARS DIES.

Loved him in The Producers and Young Frankenstein.

2014:  COMIC SID CAESAR DIES.

He had Mel Brooks, Neil Simon, and Woody Allen on his writing staff.  Not bad.

2015:  ANNOUNCER GARY OWENS DIES.

The true Fickle Finger of Fate.

2017:  SINGER ALL JARREAU DIES.

It ain't "Mornin'" any more.

2019:  POLITICIAN LYNDON LA ROUCHE DIES.

I still plan to give him a write-in vote this year.

2022:  DIRECTOR IVAN REITMAN DIES.

Who were you going to call?

Dinner last night:  Eggplant parmagiana at Rao's.