Monday Morning Video Laugh - August 7, 2023

 We can see your underwear.

Dinner last night:  Ribeye steak.

The Sunday Memory Drawer - The Vacation from Hell

 

Oh, Len, say it isn't so.  How could you possibly have a horrible time in Pennsylvania Dutch Country?   And what could you possibly have against those wonderfully simple folk?

Truth be told, I've got nothing against these horse-and-buggy types.  I would probably have loved this visit.

If I had only gotten the chance to actually see anything there.  Why would you go on vacation to a destination and then never visit it?

Yes, this is one of my childhood vacations with the family.  A trip that went horribly wrong at every turn.  And was badly conceived from the get-go.

When I was a kid, our major family summer outings were confined to two specific weeks a year.  The last week in July and the first week in August.  Those were the two weeks that my dad took off every summer.  You could set your calendar watch to those dates.  If Mom was working, she would do the same.  

So, the big summer fun was always super-concentrated into those fourteen days.  A night at Playland in Rye.  An afternoon trip downtown to see the summer fare at Radio City Music Hall.  A Met game at Shea.

And, somewhere embedded in those two weeks, we would actually pack a couple of suitcases and actually go someplace far.  Not on a plane, of course.  It was always a car ride.  Niagara Falls.  Atlantic City.  Lake George.  My mother would prep for the excursion by buying lots of peaches and plums for me to snack on during the four or five hour drive.  Invariably, these treks would be done in tandem with another family.  Usually my parents' friends and their kids.  The children would get along famously.  But, at some point, one of the adults would say the wrong thing to one of the other adults and the proclamation would be announced:

"WE'RE NOT GOING ANY PLACE WITH THEM AGAIN."

By the very next year, we would likely be out on the road with the same people all over again.

These vacations were fun for me, but, as I got older, I didn't necessarily want to hang out with a bunch of kids I barely knew.  I'd much prefer staying home with the gang in my neighborhood.

And, of course, bury myself in the New York Mets.

Such was my sentiment the year my mother took me aside and gave me the word on that year's planned trip.

"We're going away with Aunt Anne, Uncle Bob, and your cousins."

For informational purposes, that would be my mom's loony sister, her New York Yankee-obsessed husband, and my cousins who were close to my age.  They lived in Suffolk County and I wrote about our Sunday trips to their home several weeks ago.  

Sound harmless?  I didn't think so.  We had never traveled with this tribe before.  Our holiday visits on Long Island always found us with somebody being pissed at somebody else.  Now we're going to take this hilarity out on the road for the unsuspecting public to see??

I was eleven and felt that I could exert a bit of independence.

I'll stay home and keep Grandma and Grandpa company.  And, oh, yeah, watch the Mets on TV every single day.

Er, no.

Apparently, the voting age in my family was 12.  Because I didn't get one for this proposition on the ballot.  My mother went into oversell mode, telling me how much fun we would have in the planned destination.  

The Pennsylvania Dutch country.

Oh, I thought.  That's where the noodles come from.  

More heavy-handed selling from Mom.  The history of the region.  How educational it would be.

I saw impending doom at every turn in the country road.  I asked the simple question as to how they all had decided on visiting the Pennsylvania Dutch country.

"Well, that's where Uncle Bob's parents live."

Oh.  Why are we going?  That's not our family.

"Yes, it is.  Sort of."

But it's Uncle Bob's family.  Your brother-in-law's parents.  How are they connected to us?

"Well, they are.  Sort of."

I would not win a single point in this discussion.  I went into my room and looked at the New York Met baseball schedule which hung over my bed next to a photo of Jesus Christ.  Damn, the Mets were home that whole week.

And I wouldn't be.

The trip into the middle of Pennsylvania seemed to take forever.  We were traveling on our own.  My aunt and uncle were in a separate car.  As I looked out the window of my back seat, I saw nothing but grass.  I sucked down one plum and peach after another.  I thought briefly about swallowing a pit and ending it all right there in the back of the Buick.  

When we all arrived in the midst of nowhere, I was startled at how desolate it all was.  Where's our motel?

"We're staying at their house."

ALL OF US????  UNDER ONE ROOF???

I was back to thinking about clogging my windpipe with that peach pit all over again.

The house in question seemed to be the only one within miles.  There were just fields and fields and fields of grass.  It was as if we had come to a new planet.

We were all greeted by my cousins' grandparents and my amazement/shock continued anew.  I didn't remember seeing these two before.  They looked incredibly old.  My own grandmother and grandfather looked like John and Jackie Kennedy compared to these fossils.  

I had briefly thought that, perhaps, these two relics were actually Pennsylvania Dutch types.  Maybe I'd be riding in a horse and carriage.  Or get to watch the old lady churn up a stick of butter.

Nope.  As I surveyed their home, they had all the modern conveniences of the 20th century.  Except for one.

There was no air conditioning.

Or electric fans.

Or any breeze of any kind.

I felt my clothes adhering to every pore of my skin.  The only way I will be able to get undressed at the end of the day is by using a spatula.

And then the vacation started to kick into high gear.

We did nothing but sit around the house and talk.

My cousins and I fooled around outside and played in their yard which seemed to go on for acres.  But there was nothing but grass.  No swings.  No slides.  And, definitely NO SWIMMING POOL.

I could feel the temperature getting hotter by the second.

I asked my mother what our plans were for the next few days.  Sightseeing?  An amusement park nearby?  ANYTHING????

"We'll see what they want to do."

Meaning her sister and brother-in-law, who were too busy yakking it up with their side of the family.  And ultimately didn't really want to go anywhere.

I looked at the clock on the wall.  Back in civilization, it was 8PM.  The Met game would be starting right about now.  I could be sitting in the backyard with Grandma and Grandpa.  Wolfing down a slice of her rhubarb pie while radio announcer Bob Murphy would be telling me the New York Met lineup.

It would get worse.  As the night dragged on, people started to stretch and yawn.  

It was time to hear the sleeping arrangements.  Or how to cram six adults and three children into a two bedroom house that had virtually no air.

The shortest straw again?  Yours truly.  My bunk mates were my cousin Bobby and his grandfather.  From the heat I felt, it might have been on the top shelf of their convection oven.  Sweat pored out my body as if it was Old Faithful.  But dehydration was the least of my issues on that night.

The old fart snored.

I don't mean lightly.  He could be heard clear into Ohio.  Martians could hear him in their backyard light years away.  It was like I was trying to get some shut-eye in the middle of a lumber mill.

I kept looking at the clock.  Counting the minutes and the seconds until it would be morning.

Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick.....

The next days were filled with as much boredom as the first one.  If there was anything to do in the vicinity, we sure as heck didn't do it.  I got the impression that my parents had even been sold a bill of goods on this one.  They started to look bored, too.

It was Friday and the coma set in on me early.  Until I remembered something.  Back home on the planet Earth, the Mets were home that night.  Playing the Philadelphia Phillies.

Whoa!!!!

Since the TV was always on in this dungeon, I knew that we were in the Philadelphia TV market.  Maybe the game was on with the Phillie announcers.  This was in the days before ESPN and the MLB Network.  But, local teams did broadcast games.  The Mets and Yankees did.  The game had to be on in Philadelphia.

OH, GOD, PLEASE LET THE GAME BE ON.

I asked the retched old buzzsaw which channel carried the Phillies.

"I don't know."

Do you have a TV Guide?

"We use the newspaper TV listings."

Do you have today's paper?

"I think we threw it out."

OLD MAN, THIS SHOULDN'T BE THIS HARD!!!

Guess who didn't get to see a baseball game on TV that night?

When I attempted to turn the channel in the family room that night, Uncle Bob scolded me.

"Don't turn that channel.  My father's trying to watch the 11 O'Clock News."

I wondered why.  There didn't seem to be happening within a hundred miles of this God-forsaken place.  

Meanwhile, the sports report came on.

"The Mets beat the Phils tonight in 10 innings, 3-2."

In those days, the Mets didn't win more than 50 or 60 games a season.  And I had missed it.  I felt so defeated that I wanted to cry.  Except there was no water left in my body.  All the liquid had been used up as perspiration.

I don't remember much about that vacation after that.  It might have lasted another day or maybe ten.  But, it certainly wasn't what my folks had in mind either.  There was definitely a tension in the air.

As we began the long drive back to where real people lived, I heard my mother's declaration from the front seat.
 
"WE'RE NOT GOING ANY PLACE WITH THEM AGAIN."

Dinner last night:  Fried chicken at the Hollywood Bowl.

Classic TV Ad of the Month - August 2023

I never liked powdered iced tea.  Just sayin'. 

Dinner last night:  BLT from Clementine's.

The Mug Days of August

 

As Lucy Ricardo would say,  "Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!"

If only she ran as fast as her mascara....

They caught him, but he sure doesn't want to catch anything himself.

"D'oh!!!!!!!!!!"

Oh, say, can you see?  Well, not so good through these metal bars.

She still misses her President.

Oh, my God!!!  They arrested Michelle Obama when she was in college!!!!

I don't think you can arrest a corpse.

Anybody got an aspirin?

President of the Chamber of Commerce, South Chicago division.

Dinner last night:  Hot dog at Carney's.

Moron of the Month - August 2023

She's back.

This frightful visage adorns the head of Debbie Wasserman Schultz.   Or as I call her Debbie Washwoman Schultz.  

I believe in the very early days of this blog she was one of her first monthly morons.  At the time, she was in charge of the Democratic National Committee.  In 2023, she's a congresswoman from the east coast of Florida and you have to worry about the constituency there who actually elected her to be their representative.

Regardless, she's still...a moron.

You see, Debbie Washwoman Schultz is one of those politicians who doesn't know how to do anything but regurgitate the talking points released by her party on any given day.  If Debbie ever had an original idea come out of her mouth, we would have to hold a parade.  But, no.   Everything she says and does is...Republicans, bad...Democrats, wonderful.

So what propelled her back on my radar screen?  Well, apparently, she's heading some Congressional committee looking into the background and comments of Robert F. Kennedy Jr.  Now what could Debbie possibly have to complain about this from this lifelong Democrat?   Well, RFK is daring to call out everybody for their hypocrisy and that doesn't sit well with no-brain Debbie.  So she chooses to use this opportunity to call a Kennedy a bigot and a homophobe.

You see how it works?

If you don't toe the party line, you are depicted as evil.  And Debbie showed him the same kind of hatred and disdain that Hitler showed to the Jews in Auschwitz.   Because, in reality, Debbie Washwoman Schultz is no different.

But, somehow and someway, we continue to find a place in the world for shitheads like Debbie.  Indeed, stupid people can be dangerous.

Dinner last night:  Sandwich.

This Date in History - August 2

 

Happy birthday to Joanna Cassidy.  Photos like this automatically get you a prominent spot on this blog.

216 BC:  THE CARTHAGINIAN ARMY LED BY HANNIBAL DEFEATS A NUMERICALLY SUPERIOR ROMAN ARMY.

Numerically superior?   I guess that means there were more of them.

461:  MAJORIAN IS ARRESTED NEAR TORTONA AND DEPOSED BY THE SUEBIAN GENERAL RICIMER AS PUPPET EMPEROR.

Kukla, Fran, and Majorian.

1343:  AFTER THE EXECUTION OF HER HUSBAND, JEANNE DE CLISSON SELLS HER ESTATES AND RAISES A FORCE OF MEN WITH WHICH TO ATTACK FRENCH SHIPPING AND PORTS.

If that doesn't sound like a Lifetime movie, I don't know what does.

1610:  DURING HENRY HUDSON'S SEARCH FOR THE NORTHWEST PASSAGE, HE SAILS INTO WHAT IS NOW KNOWN AS HUDSON BAY.

Gives you a rough idea how far off he was.

1776:  THE SIGNING OF THE UNITED STATES DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE TOOK PLACE.

A month after it was written.   Red tape even then.

1790:  THE FIRST US CENSUS IS CONDUCTED.

Nine, ten, eleven...

1869:  JAPAN'S ED SOCIETY CLASS SYSTEM IS ABOLISHED AS PART OF THE MEJII RESTORATION REFORMS.

#OccupyJaps.

1870:  TOWER SUBWAY, THE WORLD'S FIRST UNDERGROUND RAILWAY, OPENS IN LONDON, ENGLAND.

And was delayed due to signal trouble.

1873:  THE CLAY STREET HILL RAILROAD BEGINS OPERATING THE FIRST CABLE CAR IN SAN FRANCISCO.

Good.   Now there's someplace to put those Rice-A-Roni ads.

1876:  WILD BILL HICKOK DIES.

And almost eighty years later, his TV series is cancelled.

1905:  ACTRESS MYRNA LOY IS BORN.

The best year of her life.

1914:  THE GERMAN OCCUPATION OF LUXEMBOURG DURING WORLD WAR I BEGINS.

Have no clue about Luxembourg but it would be cool to say you live there.

1918:  THE FIRST GENERAL STRIKE IN CANADIAN HISTORY TAKES PLACE IN VANCOUVER.

Any excuse for a day off.

1923:  VICE PRESIDENT CALVIN COOLIDGE BECOMES US PRESIDENT UPON THE DEATH OF PRESIDENT WARREN G. HARDING.

The democratic transfer of power.  How civilized.  Back then.

1922:  INVENTOR ALEXANDER GRAHAM BELL DIES.

Disconnected.

1924:  ACTOR CARROLL O'CONNOR IS BORN.

Oh, Archie...

1932:  THE POSITRON (ANTIPARTICLE OF THE ELECTRON) IS DISCOVERED BY CARL D. ANDERSON.

I guess this is a big deal to physicists.

1932:  ACTOR PETER O'TOOLE IS BORN.

Lawrence.  Of Arabia.

1934:  ADOLF HITLER BECOMES FUHRER OF GERMANY FOLLOWING THE DEATH OF PRESIDENT PAUL VON HINDENBURG.  

They'll be sorry.

1937:  THE MARIJUANA TAX ACT OF 1937 IS PASSED IN AMERICA, THE EFFECT OF WHICH IS TO RENDER MARIJUANA AND ALL ITS BY-PRODUCTS ILLEGAL.

Yeah, that was then.

1939:  ALBERT EINSTEIN AND LEO SZILARD WRITE A LETTER TO FRANKLIN D. ROOSEVELT, URGING HIM TO BEGIN THE MANHATTAN PROJECT TO DEVELOP A NUCLEAR WEAPON.

Just in case.  We'll probably never use it.

1943:  WORLD WAR II - PT 109, WITH FUTURE PRESIDENT JOHN F. KENNEDY ON BOARD, IS RAMMED BY A JAPANESE DESTROYER.

Hey, this might make a great book.   And a movie!

1945:  ACTRESS JOANNA CASSIDY IS BORN.

In this strange Hollywood world, I actually know two people who dated her.   

1947:  A BRITISH SOUTH AMERICAN AIRWAYS AVRO LANCASTRIAN AIRLINER CRASHES INTO A MOUNTAIN ON ITS WAY TO CHILE.  THE WRECKAGE WOULD NOT BE FOUND UNTIL 1998.

Damn, that was hidden.

1951:  SINGER ANDREW GOLD IS BORN.

Thank you for being a friend.

1964:  NORTH VIETNAMESE GUNBOATS ALLEGEDLY FIRE ON THE US DESTROYER MADDOX IN THE GULF OF TONKIN.

Lester or Elliott?

1979:  YANKEE STAR THURMAN MUNSON DIES IN A SMALL PLANE CRASH.

Small or large, the outcome is the same.   Remember this like it was yesterday.

1985:  A DELTA AIR LINES FLIGHT CRASHES AT DALLAS/FORT WORTH AIRPORT KILLING 137.

Damn.   I guess August 2 is not a good day to fly.

1990:  IRAQ INVADES KUWAIT, EVENTUALLY LEADING THE GULF WAR.

As if the fighting never ends there.

1998:  PUPPETEER SHARI LEWIS DIES.

I knew where she lived in Beverly Hills and drove past her house the day after she died.  It was sad seeing Lamb Chop sitting on top of the garbage can.

2005:  AN AIR FRANCE FLIGHT LANDS IN TORONTO AND RUNS OFF THE RUNWAY AND BURSTS INTO FLAMES.

Yeah, I'm never flying on August 2.

2022:  DODGER ANNOUNCER VIN SCULLY DIES.

This still chokes me up.

Dinner last night:  Fried chicken sandwich at the Dodger game.

A Grand Evening at the Hollywood Bowl

Over the years, I have had plenty of good nights at the Hollywood Bowl.  I mean, 

who quibbles with this venue?  You're outside.  You're enjoying good music and maybe even a glass of rose.  So what if you're listening to John Williams and the Indiana Jones theme for the 40th time?   Or listening to a rock group who last had a hit record when Lyndon and Lady Bird were in the White House.

Yep, there are always good nights at the Hollywood Bowl.  But last Sunday was a great one.  Perhaps the best evening I've had there since their staging of "A Chorus Line" in 2016.   And it was nothing more simple than six Broadway stars singing one Stephen Sondheim song after another.  This was a tribute to the late and legendary Broadway genius and quite understated as the performers simply came onto the stage as soloists or in pairs and did their work.  There was no patter in between or historical dates and times like "and then Stephen wrote."  The name of the song and the corresponding musical were shown on the screen and then magic ensued.  Indeed, the only time you were reminded this was a Sondheim tribute was at the end.   After the cast concluded the night with the haunting "Sunday" from "Sunday in the Park with George," Sondheim's photo simply appeared on the Bowl screens.

He would likely have appreciated how understated it all was.   Because it was all about his music and nothing else.

The cast was superb, including several of whom I have seen before.   They each deserve name mention here.   The legendary Patti LuPone.  Norm Lewis.  The always welcome Sutton Foster.  Skylar Astin.  Sierra Boggess.   And Brian Stokes Mitchell who I actually remember from several Manhattan parties I went to....gasp...thirty years ago.   All were marvelous and nothing short of.

There were moments you expected like LuPone and Mitchell doing "A Little Priest" from "Sweeney Todd."  And Patti again essaying "The Ladies Who Lunch" from "Company" which I got to see her do on Broadway last year.  But some welcome twists came when Mitchell did all the voices in "Getting Married Today" from "Company" to hilarious results.   And whoever had the idea of mashing today "Losing My Mind" from "Follies" and "Not A Day Goes By" from "Merrily We Roll Along" is a genius.  On this one, Sutton and Sierra were mesmerizing.

But why should I have all the fun?   Within twenty four hours, lots of the evening could already be found on YouTube.

And here's the aforementioned Foster and Boggess with that terrific blending of songs from two different musicals!

I've already re-watched most of the concert.   That's how much I liked it.

No, I mean, loved it.   

Hello, Hollywood Bowl, you really raised the bar on yourselves now.

Dinner last night:  Italian sub from Jersey Mike's.