When I go into the town square called Facebook, I start to worry about some of my friends. Really. Smart, respectable people who suddenly become downright maniacal when it comes to political issues. Such was the case one more time when Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia died. Admittedly, this is a big deal because only nine people in the world have this job. And, of course, as the Supreme Court has become super polarized, any change in the judges has a dramatic impact on what goes on in America. Of course, Scalia's death has the potential to significantly shift the balance of opinion from slightly conservative to extremely liberal on the bench. According to a lot of my friends on Facebook, this is stupendous news. And was met with a wide variety of exultations. "Good riddance." "No tears on my pillow." "I'm so glad he's finally dead." "We win." Who the fuck is "we?" I thought we were all in this together. Apparently not. And that's sad and frightening. The venom from normally decent folks on Facebook towards Scalia's death was equivalent to a scene from "Day of the Locusts." I mean, Scalia wasn't exactly Adolf Hitler or Osama Bin Laden. He was probably a decent, wise man who simply had opinions that half the country disagreed with. That's it. But, to read the glee on Facebook, you would think that the man burned down an orphanage. Hello, is this on? Can you hear me? Doesn't this bother you just a little bit? Of course, I'm liable to read equally nasty thoughts from the other side when Ruth Bader Ginsburg finally buys the farm she's been looking at for the past five years. And that will be just as vile. Truth be told, the Supreme Court of the United States has become a joke over the past thirty years as politics and the media turn this concept into one more reality show. Where there are bad guys and good guys. People who need to be there and people who need to die and leave. Really? Wow, this has become one callous society. Unfortunately, it was President Franklin Delano Roosevelt who first turned this Supreme Court idea into a parlor game where he could craft his policies over a nightly martini with Lucy Mercer. And, for what was originally a good idea by our founding fathers, it's been downhill ever since. As far as my political views go, you will never see them on Facebook. Largely because they differ from the 99.9 percent of the nation who are battling it out like they're in a Marvel Comic book. You can all have your opinions most definitely. But, think long and hard about how vociferous you sound. And un-humanistic you appear. Dinner last night: Steak and cucumber salad.
Here's an oldie but goodie. One of the first Sunday Memory Drawers written from about 7 or 8 years ago. I've been super-occupied this week and too busy to write something new. But, it is Valentine's Day and more than appropriate to rerun one of my college rituals from years gone by. Dating? Oh, the humanity. College was hardly a harvest of dating riches. More often than not, those years would be spent thinking about someone endlessly and ultimately doing squat with said thoughts. And when you did, it was always the wrong time, the wrong place, and the wrong everything. You’d get summarily rebuffed and wind up lying across your bed on your stomach. Hopelessly staring at the dirt on the dorm room carpet. I lived at Fordham for two years: junior and senior. This should have been prime time in the dating arena. Once again, not so much. Still more of the wrong time, the wrong place, and the wrong everything. And, as my luck would have it, when there was interest on the other side, it was pretty much the wrong girl. I was lucky in the fact that my roommate wasn't doing much either. Luckily, we never found each other staring at the floor at the very same moment. In the spring of junior year, we did hit on a situation that was so monumental the historians at the Guinness Book of World Records passed out in a dead faint. It also started a tradition that we carried on for, gasp, two years. It was Double Date Night. It all started innocently. He had to go to some award banquet and somehow, miraculously, got a girl to go with him. We talked about his impending evening and decided it would be absolutely hilarious if we both had dates the very same night. After all, that type of duality had come around, well, never before. So, I set out to secure my end of the bargain. As always seemed to be the case, there was somebody that I had a crush on at the time. This was the impetus to get off the stick. I swallowed hard. ”You want to go to dinner Friday night?” The reaction from my little friend was hardly inviting. ”Why?” Gee, I love you, too. But, looking back now, this girl would be one to question and angst over everything. The type of annoying personality that would provoke even Mother Theresa to slap her. But, decades ago, I had lower standards. Nevertheless, she quickly agreed to the meal. And I decided to do this in style. A drive up to a steak house in Westchester. This meant I needed to secure my father’s car for the evening. And, essentially explain why. Clue a parent into your social calendar? Something that just wasn’t done in those days. ”Can I come home and use the car Friday night?” The reaction from my father wasn’t very inviting either. ”Why?” Wow, Dad, thanks for the support. And have I got a screwed up girl for you. The logistics did work out. Of course, I wasn't used to driving my father's car, a Buick LeSabre that could have also doubled as Cleopatra's barge. This chick worried about my driving all the way up the Bronx River Parkway. And her worrying naturally made me drive badly. I wound up off the road on a sharp bend somewhere around Hartsdale. It was a bad deal all around. But, still, I managed to hold up my end of the Double Date Night premiere. We would repeat the stunt a year later. My roommate was going out with somebody to some event. All over again, I went on the prowl to match up for the evening. This year, it was a little easier. I had an even bigger crush on somebody else. And when I asked she didn’t ask why. ”Definitely. What time?” Score! As we walked across the campus to whatever eatery we were headed to, she suddenly grabbed my hand to hold. Hey, now!! Gee, I really love this annual tradition. Of course, she then explained that we were walking past her boyfriend’s dorm and she was hoping he would see us. Balloon. Pin. No more air in Len. The evening was fun, but there was always a black bunting over it. Like one of those fire houses which has just lost a member. In this case, the corpse was...me. Dinner last night: Meat lasagna at Casa Nostra.
This week, my home is abuzz with activity as my writing partner and I plan for a little staged read tonight in a 99 seat theater somewhere in the bowels of North Hollywood. So, things are pretty active. But, usually it's just me. And the silence is deafening. For an hour each morning, I hear the voices of Kelly Ripa and Michael Strahan keep me company. Then, while taking a lunch break, I am entertained by Ina "Barefoot Contessa" Garten. Or, as I cut between channels, the antics of some fiend named Andre Dimera on "Days of Our Lives." But, for the most part, it is bone quiet. Except for the phone that rings almost constantly. Oh, it's my daily check-in from the gal who wants to steam clean my carpets. She calls regularly despite the fact that I have hard wood flooring. Then it's that nice lady who wants to lower my credit card bills. And add maybe 10 or 20 percent to my annual interest rate. Oh, wait, here comes today's greeting from my city councilwoman Karen Bass. She is not shy when it comes to calling me and patting herself on the back about everything she's done. PS, she's done nothing and, as hard as I have tried to insult her, she keeps my home phone number in her speed dial. Every other day, there's that fun call from the person who craves my opinion. Would I like to share my thoughts on the issues facing our community today? Um, that would be a no. Unless, of course, one of the burning issues is why I am getting so many of these garbage calls at home. And now it's time for the ever helpful "Joe" who sounds more like a "Kamal." He's detected from somewhere in darkest Asia that my computer is running slow and, for about 99 dollars, he can fix my problematic "Windows" software. I welcome always his intrusion and frequently play along with him just to waste the man's time. I reply frequently that my computer is slow but that his mother is quite quick when it comes to.... Never mind. At least once a week, there is a visit on the phone from the IRS. Hmmm, my tax returns are all screwed up and there's a warrant out for my arrest unless I call them back. So far, there are about three dozen warrants out and I'm going to do even more jail time than the Birdman of Alcatraz. So, thank you one and all. I am always grateful to hear your voices in my hum drum day. It gets lonely when you work at home. I appreciate the break in monotony. Of course, I could end it all by enlisting in a "Do Not Call" list. Hey, I was foolish enough to try and do that multiple times with no success. Of course, it's administered by the government and we know how well they work. So, thanks to the ineptitude of our federal framework, I get to have many diversions in my long day at home. I'm so grateful. Dinner last night: Orange chicken.
Happy birthday, Robert Wagner. Take any yacht rides lately? 1306: IN FRONT OF THE HIGH ALTAR OF GREYFRIARS CHURCH IN DUMFRIES, ROBERT THE BRUCE MURDERS JOHN COMYN. What are dumfries and do they come with ketchup? 1355: THE ST. SCHOLASTICA DAY RIOT BREAKS OUT IN OXFORD, ENGLAND, LEAVING 63 SCHOLARS DEAD IN TWO DAYS. Well, that's not a nice way to honor them. 1567: LORD DARNLEY, SECOND HUSBAND OF MARY, QUEENS OF SCOTS, IS FOUND STRANGLED FOLLOWING AN EXPLOSION, A SUSPECTED ASSASSINATION. Death by strangulation. And, oh yeah, explosion. 1763: FRENCH AND INDIAN WAR - THE TREATY OF PARIS ENDS THE WAR AND FRANCE CEDES QUEBEC TO GREAT BRITAIN. Back in the day when England owned everything. 1840: QUEEN VICTORIA OF THE UNITED KINGDOM MARRIES PRINCE ALBERT. Not in a can. 1861: JEFFERSON DAVIS IS CHOSEN AS PRESIDENT OF THE CONFEDERATE STATES OF AMERICA. Another Jefferson movin' on up. 1870: THE YWCA IS FOUNDED IN NEW YORK CITY. Separate locker room please. 1893: COMIC JIMMY DURANTE IS BORN. How about that nose coming down the birth canal? 1920: JOZEF HALLER DE HALLENBURG PERFORMS SYMBOLIC WEDDING OF POLAND TO THE SEA. Huh? Perhaps the very first Polish joke. 1922-29: MY MOTHER IS BORN. We never ever got an exact year. 1930: ACTOR ROBERT WAGNER IS BORN. Seriously, what really happened that night? 1933: IN ROUND 13 OF A NEW YORK BOXING MATCH, PRIMO CARNERA KNOCKS OUT ERNIE SCHAAF, WHO DIES FOUR DAYS LATER. The ultimate knock-out. 1937: SINGER ROBERTA FLACK IS BORN. The first time we ever saw her face. 1942: THE FIRST GOLD RECORD IS PRESENTED TO GLENN MILLER FOR "CHATTANOOGA CHOO CHOO." Track 29. 1943: WORLD WAR II - THE SOVIET RED ARMY ENGAGES GERMAN TROOPS IN THE BATTLE OF KRASNY BOR. Last time we were rooting for the Russkies. 1944: SINGER PETER ALLEN IS BORN. Married to Liza Minnelli. Like mother, like daughter. 1950: SWIMMER MARK SPITZ IS BORN. Does chlorine tarnish gold? 1954: US PRESIDENT DWIGHT EISENHOWER WARNS AGAINST US INTERVENTION IN VIETNAM. He was smarter than he looked. 1957: AUTHOR LAURA INGALLS WILDER DIES. The Little Burial Plot on the Prairie. 1962: CAPTURED AMERICAN U2 SPY-PLANE PILOT GARY POWER IS EXCHANGED FOR A SOVIET SPY. And a fugitive to be named later. 1967: THE 25TH AMENDMENT TO THE US CONSTITUTION IS RATIFIED. The Constitution. Remember that? 1981: A FIRE AT THE LAS VEGAS HILTON HOTEL KILLS EIGHT. Craps! 1989: RON BROWN IS ELECTED CHAIRMAN OF THE DEMOCRATIC NATIONAL COMMITTEE, BECOMING THE THE FIRST AFRICAN-AMERICAN TO LEAD A MAJOR AMERICAN POLITICAL PARTY. Ron Brown, ask me again and I'll knock you down. 1992: AUTHOR ALEX HALEY DIES. He wrote "Roots." Now he is one. 1996: THE IBM SUPERCOMPUTER DEEP BLUE DEFEATS GARRY KASPAROV IN CHESS FOR THE FIRST TIME. Reboot. 2005: AUTHOR ARTHUR MILLER DIES. Once married to Marilyn Monroe. No dope. 2008: ACTOR ROY SCHEIDER DIES. You're gonna need a bigger casket. 2014: ACTRESS SHIRLEY TEMPLE DIES. The Good Ship Lollipop's final voyage. Dinner last night: Had rehearsal so really nothing.
