Classic Musical Comedy Production Number of the Month - January 2026

Woo hoo.  A five Saturday month gives us the chance to revel in a moment from Broadway or Hollywood musical lore.  Today, we celebrate Donald O'Connor in the wonderful "Singin' In The Rain."

Dinner last night:  Cheese and crackers.

Hollywood Then and Now - January 2026

 We like to talk about things that are not around anymore.  Particularly when it comes to movies, so many old palaces are gone.   And when you look at past locations used around Hollywood, invariably you see a strip mall standing in the post today where film history was once made.

But, not always.   

Maybe you remember the great film "The Best Years of Our Lives."  It won Best Picture in...I believe...1946.   It is about military folks coming home after serving in World War II.   

At the beginning, three such men from the same hometown arrive back together and take a cab to each of their destinations.   One is a banker played by Frederic March.   He comes home to his family and his wife, Myrna Loy.   They live in a seemingly prestigious apartment building.  Here's how that looked in the film.

Almost magically, here's the same shot today.

The apartment building sits one block east of La Brea on Beverly Boulevard in Hollywood.  People pass it every single day.   Most don't know its prominence in film history.  Hey, I bet the tenants don't even know.

But I do.   And now so do you.

You see, not everything has been torn down.

Dinner last night:  Hamburger.

The Best TV Show I'm Watching Right Now

 

It takes a lot to bowl me over when it comes to TV shows.   Here's the latest one that has done just that.

"The Pitt," brought to you by former "ER" star and a whole bunch of writers/producers from that legendary show, came onto HBO last year and I never watched Season 1.  I had heard it was designed to be a reboot of Noah's previous character and how he was coping with post pandemic medicine.  But I also read that "ER's" original creator Michael Crichton's estate did not allow him to use Wylie's character.  So the show was redeveloped as an original and not a reboot.  But it was all about this actor running a Pittsburgh emergency room.

None of the behind-the-scenes hoopla had prompted me to watch it.   But then it cleaned up at the Emmys and the Golden Gloves.  More importantly, some good friends told me to check it out.

I did and immediately binged on the first four episodes.   And then, speaking of hospitals and ERs, I landed in one.  Emergency surgery on four pesky hernias and I spent my first night ever in a hospital bed.  As it turned out, I spent four consecutive nights in said hospital bed.

Suddenly, "The Pitt" was very real to me.  And, upon returning home, I made very short shrift of the remaining 11 episodes of Season 1 as well as the first three segments of Season 2.

Yep, it's that good and that compelling.  Wylie is amazing as the chief ER doctor, but, for me, the amazing feat is that I truly like the rest of the cast.  Oh, sure, there are one or two who get on your nerves but they do it in a way that is...strangely...likeable.

I am now a fan and heartily recommend it.   Sure, it can get gross but that's what happens in ERs.   I should know.   I had a tube through my nose into my stomach. 

Dinner last night: Sandwich.

This Date in History - January 28

 

Happy birthday to fellow Fordham and WFUV alum Alan Alda.

814:  EMPEROR CHARLEMAGNE DIES.

Centuries before he opens on Broadway in Pippin.

1393:  KING CHARLES VI OF FRANCE IS NEARLY KILLED WHEN SEVERAL DANCERS' COSTUMES CATCH FIRE DURING A MASQUERADE BALL.

Gee, was he under some dancer's dress at the time?

1521:  THE DIET OF WORMS BEGINS.

Some people will do anything to lose weight.

1547:  HENRY VIII DIES.  HIS NINE-YEAR-OLD SON BECOMES KING.

And the kid's already been married twice.

1701:  THE CHINESE STORM DARTSEDO.

Not to be confused with the TV movie Sharknado.

1754:  HORACE WALPOLE COINS THE WORD SERENDIPITY IN A LETTER TO HORACE MANN.

Which was pure serendipity in itself.

1813:  JANE AUSTEN'S PRIDE AND PREJUDICE IS FIRST PUBLISHED.

Book report due Friday.

1846:  THE BATTLE OF ALIWAL, INDIA, IS WON BY BRITISH TROOPS COMMANDED BY SIR HARRY SMITH.

The guy from the old CBS Morning Show??

1855:  A LOCOMOTIVE ON THE PANAMA CANAL RAILWAY RUNS FROM THE ATLANTIC OCEAN TO THE PACIFIC OCEAN FOR THE FIRST TIME.

Please don't try to tell me this happened in one day.

1887:  THE WORLD'S LARGEST SNOWFLAKES ARE REPORTED IN MONTANA.

Wait.  I think the city of Buffalo has something to say about that.

1896:  WALTER ARNOLD OF KENT BECOMES THE FIRST PERSON TO BE CONVICTED OF SPEEDING.

Which means that today we also have the first cop to give out a speeding ticket.

1909:  US TROOPS LEAVE CUBA WITH THE EXCEPTION OF GUANTANAMO BAY NAVAL BASE.

Funny how long that place has been around.

1917:  CITY-OWNED STREETCARS TAKE TO THE STREETS OF SAN FRANCISCO.

They had to have some place to hang up those Rice-A-Roni ads.

1934:  THE FIRST SKI TOW IN THE US BEGINS OPERATION IN VERMONT.

Well, you didn't think it would be in Florida??

1936:  ACTOR ALAN ALDA IS BORN.

I met him once.   Just sayin'.

1941:  RECORD PRODUCER KING TUBBY IS BORN.

I have no clue who he is.  I just like the name.

1944:  ACTRESS SUSAN HOWARD IS BORN.

Donna Krebs from TV's Dallas!

1956:  ELVIS PRESLEY MAKES HIS FIRST US TV APPEARANCE.

He ain't nothing but a hound dog.

1958:  THE LEGO COMPANY PATENTS THE DESIGN OF ITS LEGO BRICKS.

And so the printing of money begins.

1960:  THE NATIONAL FOOTBALL LEAGUE ANNOUNCED EXPANSION TEAMS FOR DALLAS TO START IN 1960 AND MINNEAPOLIS IN 1961.

And so the printing of money in Dallas begins.

1973:  ACTOR JOHN BANNER DIES.

"Hogan!!!!"

1979:  CBS SUNDAY MORNING DEBUTS WITH HOST CHARLES KURALT.

For those just getting in from Saturday night.

1985:  USA FOR AFRICA RECORDS THE HIT SINGLE "WE ARE THE WORLD" TO HELP RAISE FUNDS FOR FAMINE RELIEF.

In 2015, there's still famine but Michael Jackson is dead.

1986:  SPACE SHUTTLE CHALLENGER EXPLODES AFTER LIFTOFF KILLING ALL SEVEN ASTRONAUTS ON BOARD.

I remember this like it was yesterday.

1994:  ACTOR HAL SMITH DIES.

Otis the Drunk from TV's Andy Griffith Show.

2004:  FOOTBALL PLAYER ELROY HIRSCH DIES.

Dig those crazy, lifeless legs.

2021:  ACTRESS CICELY TYSON DIES.

If I remember correctly, her last appearance was the day before on the Kelly Ripa morning show.

Dinner last night:  Sandwich.

99 Years Young

 

A documentary in two parts.   Nearly four hours long in total.  Seems successive and a drag?

WRONG.

Here's some mandatory viewing from me.   This new film on HBO Max is a must watch for movie fans, theater types, and anybody who just needs to laugh.  It reinforces one more time the genius of this man who, with any luck, will hit triple digits in age this June.

Amazingly, there is some current footage of Mel as he talks to one of the filmmakers, Judd Apatow.   But there is also lots and lots of archived screen shots of Mel over the years.   Thank God for the invention of cameras which methodically and wonderfully document Brooks' career from the Sid Caesar Show all the way to The Producers on Broadway.   Trust me.   You are not cheated here.

Sure, there are moments you have seen before but Mel Brooks comedy is just made for repeat viewing.   But, two of the elements that come out marvelously are the love he had for his wife Anne Bancroft and the amazing friendship he had for his best friend Carl Reiner.   Sadly, the latter is told in the film by son Rob and I wonder how Mel handled that recent news.  Indeed, Mel and Carl leaned on each other when they were both widowed around the same time.   This prompted the twp buddies to have dinner every night while they watched Jeopardy.

There's just so much in this film.   Watch it once.   Watch it eight times.   Just see it!

And salute Mel Brooks one more time.

LEN'S RATING:  Four stars.

Dinner last night:  Leftover Chinese food.

Monday Morning Video Laugh - January 26, 2026

 Our Rob Reiner salute concludes with his most famous movie clip.  With an assist at the end from his mom.

Dinner last night:  Sandwich.

The Sunday Memory Drawer - Snows of My Youth

 

There is currently a monstrous winter storm over most of America.   Except where I live in SoCal.   Lucky me.   Unlucky the rest of you.  But my youthful memory serves me right.   I had more than my share of winter storm warnings.

After all, I grew up in Westchester, NY.

You may have seen the photo above before.  But, nevertheless, here I am again.  Enjoying the snow several decades ago.  With a friend that was undoubtedly built by my dad.  Even then, I had no patience when it came to artistic moments.  I certainly couldn't have crafted a snowman.

Ah, how refreshing.  How homespun.  How cute.

And, then, a bunch of years later...

Here I am again.  Having a lot less fun.  A snapshot from the 80s.  My very first solo apartment on North Broadway in Yonkers.  And, whoa, there's my very first car.  A 1980 Toyota Corolla.  I loved that little brown peanut.  It gave me ten solid years of reliable transportation.  Despite the fact that it was always parked outside amongst the elements.  And took the brunt of snowfalls like this.

It's amazing how your perspective changes when you grow up in an area that endures snowflakes during the winter months. 

When you're a kid, you live through the delight of the Christmas season just as winter sets in.  Then, on January 2, you are likely headed back to jail AKA elementary school.  And the prospect of time off, prior to the regularly scheduled Presidential birthdays in February, is totally dependent upon some low pressure systems meshing with some Canadian cold front.  You'd anxiously await the weather report on the nightly news.  You'd gladly switch over from the Three Stooges on WPIX Channel 11 to hear WCBS weatherlady Carol Reed tell you to "have a happy" and then announce the prospects of a blizzard within the next five days. 

"70% chance of snow."

Hmmm, that's more than 50-50.  I'll take it.  I would immediately start to make plans about how late I would sleep in the morning.

Of course, school had to be officially cancelled first.  And, in Mount Vernon, New York, which was just north of the Bronx/NYC line, that wasn't so easy.    The New York City public school system was notoriously famous for not cancelling classes.  It really had to be a dire emergency.

"Due to the plague of locusts, New York City public schools will open at 10AM this morning."

Mount Vernon didn't like to cancel if New York City stayed open.  So, frequently, as the drifts piled up, we were screwed.  Still, we had hope.  If you knew that snow had fallen overnight, you would get up and prod your mother to tune to Westchester's official "school closing" radio station, WFAS-AM.  I don't think anybody ever really listens to WFAS unless it's snowing.  And you'd listen hopefully as the roll call of Westchester County school systems checking in.

"Mahopac schools closed."

Of course, they are.  Mahopac is right next to Alaska, correct?

"Rye Country Day School closed."

That sounds like such a nice place to be educated.  The Rye Country Day School.  Mom, can we move please?  Because they're closed today.

"White Plains schools closed."

Okay, gang, we're getting closer.

"Mount Vernon public schools............open."

F Me.

We never got a break. 

Now there was a back-up alert system that we always hoped would prove those WFAS frauds wrong.  The city of Mount Vernon had a set of loud fire whistles.  If there was no school, the siren would go off at 7AM and 8AM.  I would wait with baited breath.  Nobody make a sound, please.

Most of the time...nothing.

But, there were those days where the whistle went off and I felt glorious.  I also think they were going to use the same warning in the event of a nuclear attack so the last laugh could have been on me as I shimmied my way into my snow suit and/or a radioactive haze.

Not that my day was going to be completely full of leisure.  Invariably, I would be invited outside to help my father shovel out the driveway.  With the usual winter threat.

"Go help your father.  Do you want him to die of a heart attack?"

Okay, got it.

I'd amble outside and then perform my usual snowstorm chore.  I'd pretend to shovel.  If it was windy, the white stuff would blow back into my face.  Eventually, I had more snow on me than I had moved into a neat pile.  Within fifteen minutes, the potential coronary victim that was my dad had seen enough.

"Go inside.  You're just making a mess out here."

Okay, got it.

And that's how, every winter as a child, I managed to get out of shoveling snow.  A wonderful system.   And my father never did have that heart attack.

But, in retrospect, I probably could have used the practice.  Because as glorious as snow days were when you're a youngster, your viewpoints changes when you're an adult.

You don't listen to the school closings on WFAS-AM.

You don't get to wait for a fire whistle.

Unless, it's fifteen inches or more, you don't get to stay home.  You are expected to work.

So, you wake up in the AM and shovel out your car as you see in the photo above. 

It all sucked.

At my very first solo apartment on North Broadway in Yonkers, just leaving the premises in the snow was an ordeal.  First, you had to clean off the car.  If I was smart the night before, I had already taken the brush, shovel, and ice scraper out of the trunk.  Then you begin the process.  If it was really early and nobody was outside yet, I would simply push the crap onto the car in the next space.  Hell, he was a dirtbag anyway.

Now I had a real problem if there was a sheet of ice on the windshield.  Those of you not familiar with frozen tundra-like conditions have no idea how you defrost your car window.  To do it correctly, you ideally need to go out about a half-hour before you really want to leave.  You sit in the car and turn on the defroster.  And simply sit and wait.

Me?  I had little patience.  So I would try to help it along by spraying on the windshield washing liquid.  That would help speed up the process momentarily. 

Until that froze over even more.  Before I knew it, my car window could have served as the arena for the Stanley Cup playoffs.  And I never ever learned my lesson.

Of course, once you could see out your car window, you had to figure out a way to get up the huge slope of a driveway.  On lots of winter mornings, there were cars literally lined up waiting to take their turn up Mount Kilimanjaro.   People would rev their engines to get some momentum going and then start to speed up the driveway which had been barely cleaned.

Halfway up, you'd start to slide down.

Again.

Halfway up.  Slide back down.

Again.

Halfway up.  Slide back down.

Okay, if you failed the climb on the third attempt, common courtesy would be to step aside and let the next bozo try.

Halfway up.  Slide back down.

Again.

Halfway up.  Slide back down.

If somebody managed to keep going, everybody else would stand there perplexed trying to figure out how they did it.  That and, also, cursing the bastard for his success.

Once I got up to the main thoroughfare of North Broadway, I wasn't nearly finished.  I had to somehow maneuver my way gingerly down the mountains of Yonkers to the Metro North train station in Getty Square.  Driving behind other idiots trying to do the same thing but with tires that had not been rotated or replaced in a decade.

The usual ten-minute drive to the train often took an hour on those mornings.  And then, of course, you had no guarantee of transportation into Manhattan.  You'd arrive triumphantly on the train platform only to hear the scratchy announcement over the public address system.

"The 7:55AM to Grand Central...has been cancelled...due to equipment trouble."

Okay, there was another one in ten minutes.

"The 8:05AM to Grand Central...has been cancelled...due to equipment trouble."

And fifteen minutes later...

"The 8:05AM to Grand Central...is running...fifteen minutes later."

Duh.

Admittedly, the Metro North railroad has gotten their act together in the past three decades.   But, back in the 80s, you had a better chance of getting into the city if you waited for a sleigh to come by with Doctor Zhivago at the reins.

When you finally crawled into your office by 9:30AM or 10AM, you'd look around at complete emptiness.  And wonder in amazement how you managed to get to work from Westchester County but the person who lives ten blocks away on 57th Street hadn't arrived yet.

Yeah, writing this piece has given me an epiphany.

I don't miss that weather at all.  I am happy to spend the winter months in Los Angeles.  Where a 20 percent chance of showers prompts a "storm watch" on local TV stations.

Dinner last night:   Beef night noodles from Chin Chin.

Classic TV Theme Song of the Month - January 2026

 This odd piece of TV premiered this month...gulp...sixty years ago.

Dinner last night:  Salisbury steak.  

One Picture, 100 Words

 

The latest marketing campaign from the NRA.

Hey, Mom.  It's a freakin' family portrait.  How about running a comb through??

 Every child tastes better on a Ritz.

 Seventeen years and two bottles of vodka later.

The low budget reboot of "Charlie's Angels."

Over here.  No, over here, dear.   Over here.  Oh, never mind.

"You've met my daughters, the Maguire Sisters?"

Thank God they refrained from doing the breastfeeding re-enactment.

Nobody likes a stepmother.

Dinner last night:   Dan Dan Noodles.

Ticket Rules are Ticket Rules

 

I’m not sure, but I think my writing partner and I invented this concept for a script. We built a whole episode around it and now we’re both convinced it existed before that. But, still we’re not sure.

I’m talking about The Ticket Rule.

I heard you. Huh?

It applies to people who gift friends for birthdays or Christmas with a pair of tickets to some concert, theater event, etc.. According to our script, if Person X gives Person Y two tickets for Christmas to a show, Person Y naturally invites Person X to accompany him or her. I have adopted this regulation to my life for years. Gifted tickets and went with the presentee. Was gifted with tickets and invited the presenter. A no-brainer.

Naturally, this works only with single people. Well, actually, it could work with people in relationships, but it’s probably not entirely appropriate for me to have a night out on the town with your wife. Or maybe it is. I’ll let you make that call.

My partner and I thought this was a wide-adopted rule so we used it in a script. Our lead female character gave a girlfriend two tickets for a birthday and, of course, comedy mayhem ensues, when the friend decides to take this hot new guy she’s dating. When we got to the table read with the actors we regularly work with, there was a blank stare over the entire cast. None of them got it. No one had heard of The Ticket Rule. We were totally confused. Had this occurred in our little worlds and minds that were completely exclusive to us? In our own brilliance, were we completely and utterly obtuse?

I started asking about this amongst my friends. More silence and addled looks.

But, it does live on. I gave a good friend a Christmas gift of two tickets to a George Gershwin revue at the Geffen Playhouse. She took me along. I gave another good friend a Christmas gift of two tickets to a new musical at the Ahmanson Theater. As far as I know, I am going along.

I now must assume that The Ticket Rule is something that exists but is never openly discussed in public. Like your uncle who drinks too much or your co-worker with excessive body odor. One more thing swept under the rug.

And now I’m wondering which married friend I can gift with two tickets? The ultimate test.

Dinner last night:  Sandwich.

This Date in History - January 21

 

Happy birthday, Geena Davis.  It's also Robby Benson's birthday, but I'd rather look at her picture.

1525:  THE SWISS ANABAPTIST MOVEMENT IS FOUNDED WHEN CONRAD GREBEL, FELIX MANZ, GEORGE BLAUROCK, AND ABOUT A DOZEN OTHERS BAPTIZE EACH OTHER IN ZURICH, BREAKING A THOUSAND-YEAR TRADITION OF CHURCH-STATE UNION.  

I have no idea what any of this means, but it sounds important.

1535:  FOLLOWING THE AFFAIR OF THE PLACARDS, FRENCH PROTESTANTS ARE BURNED AT THE STAKE IN PARIS.

Damn.  Those placards must have said something more than "Let's Go Mets."

1720:  SWEDEN AND PRUSSIA SIGN THE TREATY OF STOCKHOLM.

I always like it when two countries pledge to play nice.

1738:  AMERICAN PATRIOT ETHAN ALLEN IS BORN.

Just in time for the February President's Day sale.

1749: THE TEATRO FILARMONICO IN VERONA IS DESTROYED BY FIRE.

Started by two gentlemen, no doubt.

1793:  AFTER BEING FOUND GUILTY OF TREASON BY THE FRENCH CONVENTION, LOUIS XVI OF FRANCE IS EXECUTED BY GUILLOTINE.

So there goes the new hat he just got for Christmas.

1840:  JULES DUMONT D'URVILLE DISCOVERS ADELIE LAND, ANTARCTICA.

I hope he wasn't surprised that it's freakin' cold down there.

1861:  DURING THE CIVIL WAR, JEFFERSON DAVIS RESIGNS FROM THE US SENATE.

A Jefferson that actually moved on down.

1899:  OPEL MANUFACTURES ITS FIRST AUTOMOBILE.

Drive home in a new 1900 Opel.

1905:  ACROBAT KARL WALLENDA IS BORN.

Died in 1978 when he fell off a wire. 

1908:  NEW YORK CITY PASSES THE SULLIVAN ORDINANCE, MAKING IT ILLEGAL FOR WOMEN TO SMOKE IN PUBLIC, ONLY TO HAVE THE MEASURE VETOED BY THE MAYOR.

Good thing since the Mayor's wife had just gotten a carton of Chesterfields for Christmas.

1915:  KIWANIS INTERNATIONAL IS FOUNDED IN DETROIT, MICHIGAN.

And here comes a bunch of Little League teams sporting the same name.

1922:  ACTOR TELLY SAVALAS IS BORN.

Who loves ya?

1924:  COMIC BENNY HILL IS BORN.

Never ever found him funny.

1938:  RADIO HOST WOLFMAN JACK IS BORN.

The real star of "American Graffiti."

1940:  GOLFER JACK NICKLAUS IS BORN.

He's the golfer who didn't figure out how to mix iced tea with lemonade.

1948:  THE FLAG OF QUEBEC IS ADOPTED AND FLOWN FOR THE FIRST TIME OVER THE NATIONAL ASSEMBLY OF QUEBEC.  THE DAY IS MARKED ANNUALLY AS QUEBEC FLAG DAY.

Funny how they figured that out.

1950:  AMERICAN LAWYER AND GOVERNMENT OFFICIAL ALGER HISS IS CONVICTED OF PERJURY.

Boo Hiss.

1950:  AUTHOR GEORGE ORWELL DIES.

Born in 1903.  He would have had to live to 81 to get to 1984.

1954:  THE FIRST NUCLEAR SUBMARINE, THE USS NAUTILUS, IS LAUNCHED BY MAMIE EISENHOWER.

I'll bet you sampled a bit when you cracked that bottle of champagne.

1956:  ACTOR ROBBY BENSON IS BORN.

The most monotone actor ever.

1956:  ACTRESS GEENA DAVIS IS BORN.

She and Robby could share the same birthday cake.  If, of course, they went to the same school.

1959:  DIRECTOR CECIL B. DEMILLE DIES.

And Hollywood cheers.

1959:  ACTOR CARL SWITZER DIES.

Oh, my God!  Alfalfa just shot himself.

1967:  ACTRESS ANN SHERIDAN DIES. 

All out of oomph.

1968:  IN VIETNAM, THE BATTLE OF KHE SANH.

And the Khe Sanhs keep rolling along.

1976:  COMMERCIAL SERVICE OF THE CONCORDE BEGINS.

Yeah, that will be a short flight.

1977:  US PRESIDENT JIMMY CARTER PARDONS NEARLY ALL AMERICAN VIETNAM WAR DRAFT EVADERS, SOME OF WHOM HAD EMIGRATED TO CANADA.

Whenever this happens, you know the politicians is trying to buy votes.

1989: BASEBALL STAR CARL FURILLO DIES.

And Flatbush weeps.

1997:  THE US HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES VOTES 395-28 TO REPRIMAND NEWT GINGRICH FOR ETHICS VIOLATIONS, MAKING HIM THE FIRST SPEAKER OF THE HOUSE TO BE SO DISCIPLINED.

Meanwhile, Nancy Pelosi is also a big crook.   Do your research.

1998:  ACTOR JACK LORD DIES. 

Bury him, Dan-o.

2002:  SINGER PEGGY LEE DIES.

Yep, that's all there is.

2019:  ACTRESS KAYE BALLARD DIES.

Knew her.  Miss her.

Dinner last night:  Leftover SPO.

The Romcom Mind Drain

 

It seems like a 100 years since I saw this Netflix movie.   I watched it last week and then immediately had to have major hernia surgery.   So, let's make the leap here.

Romcoms can make you sick and land you in the hospital.

Admittedly, that's unfair and I shouldn't besmirch the entire concept.   I mean, romcoms are designed to keep single older women content while they pet their cats.   So there is a purpose to it all.

I still have no idea why I watched this in the first place.  Maybe it was to predict every plot point which you can see coming a year before.   Or maybe it was just to be mindless in case I had to suddenly face hernia surgery.  PS, I did.

That said, I sort of like this film and that was days before they gave me the codeine pain killers.  Yes, it was predictable and, in particular, the lead actress was hideous.   But Tom Blyth as the male lead had a certain flair that made you think you were watching something a lot more important than it really was.

Still?  What was I doing?  What was I thinking?  

I need to revisit my pre-hernia surgery entertainment choices.

LEN'S RATING:  Two-and-a-half stars.

Dinner last night:  Cheese and crackers.

Monday Morning Video Laugh - January 19, 2026

 Our Rob Reiner tribute presses on.  For me, one of his best movies as a director was "The Sure Thing"...a college version of "It Happened One Night."   This clip doesn't give the film justice.

Dinner last night:  Still coming from a few days in the hospital.   Not much really.

The Sunday Memory Drawer - My First Operation

There would be others.   One just this past week.  But today let's talk about my first ever time under the knife. The official name of my scheduled procedure was "orchiectomy." Go ahead. Look it up in a dictionary and you will finally figure out what the hell I've been talking about for the past two Sundays.

My urologist did all his cutting in St. John's Hospital in Santa Monica. I remember seeing the place on television during the 1994 Northridge earthquake. There were a lot of cracks in the building back then. I hoped and prayed that there wouldn't be a shaker while I was under the scalpel. The same way I fear having a cavity filled during a trembler.

For some reason known only to doctors, nurses, and insurance companies, these outpatient surgeries are always scheduled for the early morning hours. This requires you to get there even earlier than you would for a flight out of LAX. First of all, there are tons of forms to fill out so the hospital is totally protected if you choose to die during surgery.

As I repeatedly signed my name, I kept thinking that these autographs might be worth something. If I happen to... I also start to consider that the doctor might make some extra dough by working on the carpel tunnel syndrome that is certainly developing as I manuever through Page 112 of the hospital disclaimer.

"Who do we call?"

If I die? Well, Variety, the Hollywood Reporter, and then maybe my roommate in that order.

"Who is here with you?"

You mean the person that you can slip the box of Kleenex to if I check out? Well, my roommate dropped me off and will pick me up when I am ready to go. There was no reason to keep him here in these ultra-depressing surroundings. So, you can keep the tissue.

These hospital workers have a tough job when patients like me show up. When we're nervous, we like to babble. Even if it's only in our minds.

When you appear for one of these slash jobs, you watch the nurses go about their business in almost robotic fashion. You realize that they do this every single morning of the week. And the only way they can go through this successfully is by being structured and regimented. I wasn't a name or a person. I was simply "Room 24" and the "830AM surgery in OR 2."

At St. John's, they shuttle you to your own personal little "green room" to prep for your big appearance on the table. There, you can disrobe, gown up, and panic in privacy. I did so quickly and immediately hopped up on the gurney, which would be my home away from home for the next three or so hours. To while away your time, St. John's equips these rooms with a television. I turned it on to see Matt Lauer and Al Roker yammering about the weather in New York.

I immediately turned it off. Oh, my God, the last television I would see is "The Today Show." My life is ending with such emptiness.

Another knock on the door. A different nurse rolled in an EKG machine. Not only was I going to be under a knife in less than ninety minutes, but now I was going to endure the heartless pain of those little stickers pulling off my body hair. She went about her business, layering me with those little electronic Post-its. A pause as she flipped the switch. Another pause as she stared at the machine. Hmmmmmm.

"I'll be right back."

She returned with another nurse, who also stared at the machine. She turned to leave.

"I'll be right back."

Nurse Moe and Nurse Larry were now joined by Nurse Shemp. They all surveyed the nothingness that was apparently my heartbeat.

"I don't know how to tell you this but you might be dead."

Already?????

They contemplated their apparently faulty equipment. I looked for the exit sign. And then peered down at the floor. I tapped Nurse Moe on the shoulder.

"I think the machine works better when it's plugged in."

Three of the reddest faces ever to be seen in a hospital. The three nurses laughed hysterically. I wished I could join in. Now I couldn't wait to see what fresh hell would be awaiting me in the operating theater.

Another knock. The door opened slightly. A mild-mannered bald man stuck his head in.

"Would you like a prayer?"

Given what I had just seen with the three idiots and the EKG machine, I certainly needed one. And I was feeling fairly ecumenical. But I asked the guy what religion he was.

"I'm a priest."

Hmmmm. At this point, I didn't really care. But, suddenly, the face of my grandmother flashed before my eyes. Heck, she didn't even like it if you dated a Catholic, let alone have one doodling with some rosary beads before they went off to surgery. If my last moments were indeed Catholic ones, there would be no living with my grandmother in eternity. I lifted my head off the pillow and spoke to the priest.

"Nah, I'm good."

It wasn't more than ten minutes later that I was on my way. A rapidly speeding gurney through the halls of St. John's Hospital. I was wide awake and got to see all the other patients on their respective ways to a meeting with a very sharp object. In my own surgical suite, KRTH. the local oldies station, was blasting out of the speakers. A nurse, busying herself with my doctor's weapons, was singing along.

"STOP IN THE NAME OF LOVE....BEFORE YOU BREAK MY HEART....."

I quickly searched around for the dude who would be administering the knockout punch. I had only undergone anesthesia once before in my life when I had a small cyst removed. That was minor. This would be the Big Kahuna of deep sleep. And I was fully braced for the usual instructions. Start at 100 and count backward. Friends already advised me that you never get past 98. Suddenly, a tap on my shoulder.

"Hello, Len."

It was my smiling doctor.

And that's the last I remember. I didn't even get to count. An hour later...

"Hello, Len."

My smiling doctor again. I was still on the gurney in the operating room. The same nurse was still fooling with the now-sullied scalpels. And she was still singing.

"TALKIN' ABOUT MY GIRL....MY GIRL....."

The next half hour was admittedly hazy for me. I heard my doctor's voice in short spurts.

"Everything....fine....biopsy results....next week.....Vicodin."

I totally slept through the gurney ride to the post-surgical recovery room. But, when I did come to, I found myself side-by-side with the rest of the outpatients. And each one of their moans was louder than the next. I felt like I was lying in the streets of Atlanta as depicted in "Gone With The Wind." A nurse came by.

"How are you feeling?"

Fine. Can I go home?

Another nurse came by with a cup of some liquid.

"Here's some apple juice for you."

Thank you. Can I go home?

Another half hour. Another round of wails from the patients around. What specifically had been done to them? The nurse came back to my gurney.

"Your clothes are underneath. If you can get dressed..."

Done. In five minutes. Can I go home?

They finally got the message and called my roommate. He picked me up fifteen minutes later. With my senses totally relaxed by the fading anesthesia, he asked me what I wanted to eat.

"Entenmann's Pound Cake and a Diet Snapple."

I have no idea why. But that pound cake and that Diet Snapple never tasted better.

Oh. sure, the next few days were a little rough. My stitches down below were courtesy of Swingline Staplers. I finally figured out why the doctor had mentioned Vicodin. I needed it at night. Showering, of course, was a bitch. I couldn't get the bandage wet and I didn't want to, since I had already peeked under the dressing.

I was now Frankengroin.

So, the odyssey that had begun when I was five years old and sobbing in Dr. Fiegoli's office was finally over. A long journey that ended with the news that...

"The biopsy results were negative."

Dinner last night: Hospital food.

Classic Movie Trailer of the Month - January 2026

 This undervalued gem went into general release...gasp...70 years ago this month.

Dinner last night:  Still eating hospital food.

This Blog Is

 

Dinner last night:  Hospital food.

Two Documentaries, Two Jerks

 

Regular readers know I love a good documentary, particularly if it's historical and the subject is a renowned celebrity.   There are those cases where I don't like the individual being profiled.   But I still watch because I am curious to see how they will be depicted.

Of late, I have watched two such documentary films with subjects that feel a lot to be desired.   Both were well known for years as complete assholes.   Hmmm.  With such a challenging target, I wondered how the filmmakers would handle their films.

Folks, here's one blog movie review of two films.

The first you can see above.  It's the CNN-produced "I'm Chevy Chase and You're Not."  Okay, it's a well known fact that Chevy, formerly of SNL, is a dirtbag.   Bad behavior in spades.  I've heard plenty of lurid and nasty tales.   The film confirms most of them and even expands to stories you don't know.

The curious thing is that Chevy Chase actually participates with the film makers.  He sits for several long interviews and CNN, not exactly the bastion of unbiased journalism, does nothing to whitewash their subject matter.   Regardless of what Chevy says on screen, there are dozens of other talking heads who confirm what we have heard for years.

Chevy Chase is a jerk.  And, for the simple reinforcement of that truth, this film does exactly what a decent documentary should do.

Now, let's consider the other documentary.

HBO's newest celebrity profile about the legendary teen idol Paul Anka now in his 80s but still touring with his five or six hit songs.  Anka's been around so long that I have a faint memory of my mother taking me along to see him at Atlantic City's Steel Pier.   There's even footage of that theater marquee.

Now, Anka has been successful over the years, not only with his hits but also composing the Johnny Carson Tonight Show theme as well as some songs for (????) Michael Jackson.  It's all relived in this film which certainly did its homework on Anka.   

This movie is part documentary and part road show as we follow Paul on tour all over the world.   Apparently, he is revered in Japan for some reason.  We hear him tell his life story and it is interspersed with tour footage.   Yes, it is interesting.

But there is a bias at work here.   Anka comes off as a hero and a saint, largely because I believe he is one of the producers of the film, which also includes a rousing endorsement from Paul's son-in-law, Jason Bateman.  Something seems very forced and whitewashed as you view this film.  I go back several years when shock jock Howard Stern got a hold of some recording studio tapes which featured Paul abusing everybody around him.  I've heard other stories as well and he clearly has his own Chevy Chase-like moments.   

Because you know there's a distinct phoniness at work here, this documentary from HBO comes out a little empty.   It was well made but...

So when you look at the ratings I am giving these films, please know that I am judging the content of the film, not the despicableness of the subjects.

LEN'S RATING:   Three stars for Chevy, two stars for Paul.

Dinner last night;  In the hospital on no food regimen.

This Date in History - January 14

 

Happy birthday, Faye Dunaway.  This photo is obviously old because, well, so is she.

83BC:  MARK ANTONY IS BORN.

He looked nothing like either Marlon Brando or Richard Burton.

1301:  ANDREW III OF HUNGARY DIES, ENDING THE ARPAD DYNASTY IN HUNGARY.

Was Arpad anything like an iPad?

1539:  SPAIN ANNEXES CUBA.

There's rum to be had.

1639:  THE FUNDAMENTAL ORDERS, THE FIRST WRITTEN CONSTITUTION THAT CREATED A GOVERNMENT, IS ADOPTED IN CONNECTICUT.

Nobody remembers the Fundamental Orders.   But, then again, nobody remembers the real Constitution either.

1784:  RATIFICATION DAY IN THE US.  CONGRESS RATIFIES THE TREATY OF PARIS WITH GREAT BRITAIN.

And we care why?

1814:  FREDERICK VI OF DENMARK CEDES NORWAY TO SWEDEN IN RETURN FOR POMERANIA.

Somebody got stuck with some dogs.

1858:  NAPOLEON III OF FRANCE ESCAPES AN ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT.

Thanks to the 1858 version of Jack Bauer.

1892:  PRODUCER HAL ROACH IS BORN.

I have to stay home and grease Wheezer.

1906:  ACTOR WILLIAM BENDIX IS BORN.

And so Riley begins.

1907:  AN EARTHQUAKE IN KINGSTON, JAMAICA KILLS MORE THAN 1,000.

Change at Jamaica for Babylon and the coroner's office.

1915:  GAME SHOW PRODUCER MARK GOODSON IS BORN.

Waiting for Todman.

1933: THE CONTROVERSIAL BODYLINE CRICKET TACTICS USED BY DOUGLAS JARDINE'S ENGLAND PEAK WHEN AUSTRALIAN CAPTAIN BILL WOODFULL IS HIT OVER THE HEART.

I don't know what any of that means.

1941:  ACTRESS FAYE DUNAWAY IS BORN.

Why do I think that the nasty character she played in Network is really the way she is in real life?

1943:  JAPAN BEGINS OPERATION KE, THE SUCCESSFUL OPERATION TO EVACUATE ITS FORCES FROM GUADALCANAL.

Running like scared rabbits.

1943:  FRANKLIN ROOSEVELT AND WINSTON CHURCHILL BEGIN THE CASABLANCA CONFERENCE TO DISCUSS STRATEGY AND THE NEXT PHASE OF THE WAR.

They went to Rick's afterwards.

1943:  FRANKLIN ROOSEVELT BECOMES THE FIRST PRESIDENT OF THE US TO TRAVEL BY AIRPLANE WHILE IN OFFICE WHEN HE TRAVELS FROM MIAMI TO MOROCCO FOR THE CASABLANCA CONFERENCE.

All that WWII news in one day.  Must have kept Edward R. Murrow up all night.

1952: NBC'S LONG RUNNING MORNING SHOW TODAY DEBUTS WITH HOST DAVE GARROWAY.

Just in case you're confused and thought the first host was a chimp.

1954:  THE HUDSON MOTOR CAR COMPANY MERGES WITH NASH TO FORM THE AMERICAN MOTORS CORPORATION.

In about twenty years, makers of that piece of junk called the Gremlin.

1957:  ACTOR HUMPHREY BOGART DIES.

Bad news.   The good news?  Lauren Bacall now available.

1961:  ACTOR BARRY FITZGERALD DIES.

Going God's way.

1965:  SINGER JEANETTE MACDONALD DIES.

Ever seen one of her musicals with Nelson Eddy?   ZZZZzzzzzz.

1967:  THE HUMAN BE-IN TAKES PLACE N SAN FRANCISCO, LAUNCHING THE SUMMER OF LOVE.

Hey now.

1973: ELVIS PRESLEY'S CONCERT FROM HAWAII IS BROADCAST LIVE VIA SATELLITE AND SETS THE RECORD AS THE MOST WATCHED BROADCAST BY AN INDIVIDUAL ENTERTAINER IN TELEVISION HISTORY.

Take that, Taylor Swift.

1977:  ACTOR PETER FINCH DIES.

Just as he gets an Oscar nomination for Network.  And later wins.  And note that it happened on Faye Dunaway's birthday.  Don't you love this Wednesday feature?

1984:  BUSINESSMAN RAY KROC DIES.

Supersize that.

1986:  ACTRESS DONNA REED DIES.

It was a wonderful life.

2004:  THE NATIONAL FLAG OF THE REPUBLIC OF GEORGIA, THE SO-CALLED FIVE CROSS FLAG, IS RESTORED TO OFFICIAL USE AFTER A HIATUS OF SOME 500 YEARS.

I doubt any of the originals were still around.

2006:  ACTRESS SHELLEY WINTERS DIES.

After sleeping with practically everybody in Hollywood.

2009:  ACTOR RICARDO MONTALBAN DIES.

Including maybe him.

2013:  ACTOR CONRAD BAIN DIES.

After outliving two of the three kids on that damn Diff'rent Strokes sitcom.

2016:  ACTOR ALAN RICKMAN DIES.

Really hard this time.

Dinner last night:  Sandwich.

Morons of the Month - January 2026

 

No, I am not naming Mary as a monthly moron.  Hardly.

But, with all the drama going on in America's latest shit hole, the city of Minny No Place, Mary and Rhoda and Ted and Lou are on my minds.   I hope they're staying as that city implodes one block at a time.

Most of the dump almost burned to the ground back in 2020 when George Floyd declared he couldn't breath.   But, apparently, there was still enough there to keep the city and state going to the point where there were plenty of public funds to be stolen by the scumbag politicians that run the place.   And then we almost wind up with their dopey governor as Vice President...arguably a politician who made Dan Quayle look like a Rhodes scholar.

So the state of Minnesota becomes a magnet for all the illegal criminals that sifted into this country while the only barrier at the border was Costco facial tissue.  It is no surprise that ICE comes to town for their own Ice Capades to clean up the mess.   And it is also no surprise for the citizenry of this moronic state to become up in arms over the alleged illegal deportation of criminals who don't belong here in the first place.

After all, it's all Trump's fault.   

Meanwhile, when did some of our population start championing illegal aliens over their own neighbors?  Apparently, in Minny No Place, there are organized bands of people equipped and, in some cases, armed to fight off authority.   It's okay to question the officials and fight back and even put a hand on these folks.  

Hmmm, when I was a kid, my father schooled me often on this.  If I was ever stopped for some reason by someone in an authoritative role, I was just instructed to comply quietly.   "You get your day in court later," Dad would say.  Well, apparently, my father never got around to offer this sage advice to the idiots of Minny No Place.   Especially that poor numbskull who may or may not have tried to run over an ICE person.  The fact that she was there in that fracas to begin with was wrong.   And she paid the unfortunate price for it.   Now her lesbian partner will lawyer up and make millions while the rest of the idiotic citizen base wrings their hands in disgust.

Yeah, all of this is a lot more complicated than they make it out to be.   But, at the end of the day, there are rules and procedures in this generally fair nation that can be followed to become a legal citizen.   I know several people who indeed stood in a large crowd, raised their right hands, and became a happy part of the United States.   Yet, there are so many scum buckets who don't do that.   They simply sneak in with the evilest of intentions and apparently move to Mary Richards Lane where criminal acts are not only tolerated but encouraged.

Love is NOT all around.

Dinner last night:  Broccoli salad.

Monday Morning Video Laugh - January 12, 2026

 Rob Reiner Month continues.  His guest shot on "The Odd Couple" with then-wife Penny Marshall.

Dinner last night:  SPO.

The Sunday Memory Drawer - Gifting Grandma for Christmas

 

Let's close out the holiday season with one last Christmas story. And it involves Grandma, pictured above with me and my dad, at my cousin's wedding.

Here was a woman you couldn't Christmas shop for. Because if you asked her what she wanted, she'd wave you off immediately.

"I don't need nothing."

And she really didn't. But then you would ask her what she wanted.

"I don't want nothing."

It was the same drill year after year. You would think that my relatives would learn their lesson. They never did. And so, one Christmas after another, they fell over backwards trying to buy her a present. And then they would get indignant when she didn't like it. I used to hold my breath every year when the inevitable gift exchange would happen and somebody would dumbly bestow her with some wrapped package.

"What the hell is this?"

A Christmas present for you, of course.

"I don't need nothing. I don't want nothing."

So we heard.

And then we got to watch her open a gift from a family member that might as well have been picked out of an office grab bag. Because they always seemed to be selected without a single thought that this was a woman who virtually never left her house past her front porch or her backyard, except for her Thursday morning trips to the A&P and her monthly visit to her doctor in a Bronx neighborhood she called "Jew Town."

After opening a box, she'd always look up quizzically.

"What the hell is this?"

Very fancy gloves for when you go out to some place nice.

She waved them off as if they were mental patients. And she was right. In all the years I knew her, I never remember her ever once going to some place nice. I never remember seeing her in a restaurant. The fanciest it ever got for her was either a wedding or a funeral.

It got worse. The next year, she opened a small box to reveal a very exquisite watch.

"What the hell is this?"

It was explained this was a wrist watch that she could wear out. For instance, she could check the time when she was waiting for the bus.

Huh? Grandma waved them off. I almost did the same. For this simple woman, a gift was purchased as if she was a high-powered commuter on "Mad Men" headed for her job at a major New York advertising agency.

The gloves and the watch were tossed back as was pretty much everything else she ever got for Christmas.

One year, even one of my own Christmas presents indirectly ticked her off. I had been given a little reel-to-reel tape recorder which made me the most annoying guest at that holiday season's family gathering. When I was done running around and interiewing the family, my mom decided we should be proactive and make a tape to send out to whichever relative couldn't make it to our house that year. Eventually, the microphone was put in front of Grandma.

"What the hell is this?"

We explained that she should talk into it and say hello. She easily complied.

"Hello?"

Pause.

"This is stupid. I don't hear anything back."

IT'S NOT A TELEPHONE!!!!

The one year I decided to join the Grandma Christmas Gift fiasco, I thought I had hit on a great idea. I had gotten tired of looking at the little kitty cat cookie jar she kept in the pantry, always chock full of chocolate chip cookies. It had been around pretty much since Roosevelt beat Alf Landon. At the time, the Pillsbury Doughboy had made his first Poppin' Fresh appearance on television and I had found a cookie jar version in a store. As perfect as it was, I still held my breath as she opened the package.

"Now THIS is something I can use."

And she did for the rest of her life. The kitty cat was retired to another shelf. I had scored a big, big win.

After she died, I know one of my cousins claimed the kitty cat cookie jar. But I immediately pulled in the Pillsbury Doughboy. And it is the one memento I have of my grandmother.

Twenty years ago, I finally shipped it from the NY abode to the LA apartment. And it sits proudly in the kitchen.

Always chock full of chocolate chip cookies.

Dinner last night:  Pineapple and bacon sausage.