Classic TV Theme Song of the Month - May 2019

Hard to believe that this was prime time TV fare...gasp...40 years ago this month!

Dinner last night:  Bacon and cheese frittata.

Your Weekend Movie Guide for May 2019

This photo is probably over forty years old but it brings tears to my eyes.   This was one of my home town movie theaters...Loews...reduced to rocks and gravel.   The memories I got seeing films in this palace with my parents stay with me to this day.   This is when movies made memories.

Not so today.  I can barely recall anything I have seen this year.   But we are headed into the summer of 2019 so, perhaps, there will be something to see soon.  Or not.  You know the monthly drill, gang.  I'll sift through the movie pages of the LA Times and give you my gut reaction to what is polluting our multiplexes right now.   

Trust me.  There will be even more weeping.

Avengers - Endgame:  For me, the game never started.

The Hustle:  Van McCoy?

Amazing Grace:  Rare footage of Aretha Franklin performing in a church.  Much easier to watch than those endless photos of her lying in a coffin.

Poms:  Diane Keaton tries to re-channel "Book Club" with a bargain basement cast.

Long Shot:  Any of the 20 or so Democratic candidates for President?

Tolkien:  If I didn't see any of the Lord of the Rings movies, I'm not going to see a biography about the guy who wrote the books.

The White Crow:  The story of dancer Rudolf Nureyev's defection to the West.  Collusion!!

All Is True:  A look at the final days in the life of renowned playwright William Shakespeare.  Luckily, I don't have a book report due.

The Biggest Little Farm:  Documentarian John Chester and his wife Molly work to develop a sustainable farm on 200 acres outside of Los Angeles.  Well, that's one way to avoid the homeless problem in the city.

Pokemon Detective Pikachu:   Do you know me at all?

Ugly Dolls:  Seriously, do you know me at all??

Shazam:  Jim Nabors' last movie?

Ask Dr. Ruth:  I am actually interested in this documentary on the famed sex therapist/dwarf.  But it runs on Hulu next month so save your dollars until then.

The Intruder:  Dennis Quaid is some creepy guy trying to keep a young couple out of the house he just sold them.  So, essentially, a Twilight Zone episode airing on HGTV.

Wine Country:  Three scary words.  Amy Poehler directs.

John Wick - Chapter 3:  There were two other chapters already??

All Creatures Here Below:  A desperate young couple on the run seek refuge in Kansas City.  Probably from movies like this.

A Dog's Journey:  A pooch impacts the lives of several humans.  The busy Dennis Quaid is in the cast.  I wonder if he's the one who falls down the well.  Oh, wait, that's an episode of Lassie.

The Souvenir:  A young film student in the early 80s becomes romantically involved with a complicated and untrustworthy man.  I guess the souvenir is what comes out nine months later.

Ask For Jane:  A group of determined Midwestern women begin providing safe but illegal abortions in this 1960s period drama based on a true story.  I guess Jane is the one with the scalpel.

Shed of the Dead:  Sometimes you can tell just by the title.

Perfect:  An emotionally troubled young man enters a clinic.   If it's the one where you ask for Jane, he's more troubled than he things.

A Violent Separation:  Two brothers struggle with a terrible truth behind a tragedy that aims to tear three generations of a family apart.  Well, that's one way to ruin a Memorial Day barbecue.

Trial By Fire:  The tragic and controversial story of Cameron Todd Willingham, who was executed in Texas for killing his three children after scientific evidence and expert testimony that bolstered his claims of innocence were suppressed.  Ah, so a romantic comedy?

The Meanest Man in Texas:  I have no clue who that is, but the dumbest one has to be that Beto guy.

Dinner last night:  Caesar salad.

And Here's Another Pet Peeve

Well, sometimes, it feels that way when you're on the 10 Freeway headed to Dodger Stadium.  Don't even try it during rush hour.  During those drives, you actually need to shave during it.   

But, on Mother's Day, you figure the only traffic you would hit going to the Dodger game could be coming from those folks headed out to see Grandma in Palmdale.    Yet, there it was.   A slowdown.   For no reason.

When you hit freeway traffic in Los Angeles, you want it to be for a good reason.   A major crack-up.   White sheets covering somebody or something in the road.   But, most of the time, the slowdown is precipitated by...well...nothing.   

And then you see there is a message on one of these electronic signs.   People literally slow down to read them.   Um, can't you folks multi-task?   I can certainly read the message and maintain my speed of 55 MPH.   But it happens all the freaking time here.   There's an electronic message warning you about DUI or motorcyclists sharing the road and traffic comes to a standstill.

Makes no sense, right?   Wrong.   I understand exactly why it happens.   Think about it a little bit.   You're smart.   I know you will come up with the answer.

You see, there's now a multitude of drivers out here in California who cannot read English.  And they are not encouraged to learn how to.   No attempts at assimilating into American society.   So, when an electronic message flashes at them, they have no clue what it says.   

So they immediately slow down.   Is there a wreck ahead?   A policeman hiding behind a sign?  A flooded road?   ICE at the next exit???  These people have no idea.   

Because they can't read English.   

See how easy that was to solve.   I would say 90 percent of the traffic jams in California are caused by drivers who have bothered to learn English.   But, you will counter with this argument.

How did they pass a written road test?

Well, it is likely they didn't.   And that's a pet peeve for another day.

Dinner last night:  Hamburger and pan roasted tomatoes.

This Date in History - May 15

Happy birthday, Wavy Gravy.  Who, you say?  I don't know, I say.  But his name showed up on the May 15 birthday list and, with a name like that, it's impossible not to include him.

392:  EMPEROR VALENTINIAN II IS ASSASSINATED WHILE ADVANCING INTO GAUL AGAINST THE FRANKISH USURPER ARBOGAST.  HE IS FOUND HANGING IN HIS RESIDENCE.

What was he hanging from?  I mean, back then, there were no overhead light fixtures.

589:  KING AUTHARI MARRIES THEODELINDA, DAUGHTER OF THE BAVARIAN DUKE GARIBALD I.  

Sentences like that are why I always hated world history in high school.

1252:  POPE INNOCENT IV ISSUES THE PAPAL BULL AD EXTIRPANDA, WHICH AUTHORIZES, BUT ALSO LIMITS, THE TORTURE OF HERETICS IN THE MEDIEVAL INQUISITION.

He's Innocent...and trying to keep it that way.

1525:  INSURGENT PEASANTS LED BY PASTOR THOMAS MUENTZER WERE DEFEATED AT THE BATTLE OF FRANKENHAUSEN, ENDING THE GERMAN PEASANTS' WAR IN THE HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE.

#OccupyFrankenhausen.

1536:  ANNE BOLEYN, QUEEN OF ENGLAND, STANDS TRIAL IN LONDON ON CHARGES OF TREASON, ADULTERY, AND INCEST.  SHE IS CONDEMNED TO DEATH.

She was a head of her time.

1602:  BARTHOLOMEW GOSNOLD BECOMES THE FIRST RECORDED EUROPEAN TO SEE CAPE COD.  

In May.  He beat the summer rates.

1648:  THE TREATY OF WESTPHALIA IS SIGNED.

I love their ham.

1718:  JAMES PUCKLE, A LONDON LAWYER, PATENTS THE WORLD'S FIRST MACHINE GUN.

Elliot Ness thanks you.

1791:  MAXIILIEN ROBESPIERRE PROPOSES THE SELF-DENYING ORDINANCE.

Self denying what?  Umm, maybe I shouldn't ask.

1817: THE FIRST US PRIVATE MENTAL HEALTH HOSPITAL, THE ASYLUM FOR THE RELIEF OF PERSONS DEPRIVED OF THE USE OF THEIR REASON, OPENS IN PHILADELPHIA.

That's a long way to say "nut house."

1858:  OPENING OF THE PRESENT ROYAL OPERA HOUSE IN COVENT GARDEN, LONDON.

Eliza Doolittle needed some place to sell her flowers.

1862:  PRESIDENT ABRAHAM LINCOLN SIGNS A BILL INTO LAW CREATING THE US BUREAU OF AGRICULTURE.  

Good, he freed the farmers.

1869:  IN NEW YORK, SUSAN B. ANTHONY AND ELIZABETH CADY STANTON FORM THE NATIONAL WOMAN SUFFRAGE ASSOCIATION.

And when do they give equal rights to their husbands?

1886:  POET EMILY DICKINSON DIES.

She should have stayed in bed because now she's dead.

1902:  POLITICIAN RICHARD DALEY IS BORN.

Any politician in Chicago is born automatically corrupt.

1905:  ACTOR JOSEPH COTTEN IS BORN.

No, he did not invent the Q-Tip.

1905:  BUSINESSMAN ABRAHAM ZAPRUDER IS BORN.

Back and to the left....back and to the left.

1905:  LAS VEGAS, NEVADA IS FOUNDED.

Now Siegfried and Roy have someplace to go.

1909:  ACTOR JAMES MASON IS BORN.

A star is born.

1918:  COUNTRY SINGER EDDY ARNOLD IS BORN.

Back in the day when country singers sounded like...well, country singers.

1928:  MICKEY MOUSE PREMIERES IN HIS FIRST CARTOON "PLANE CRAZY."

And still his fur is jet black.  He must use "Just for Mice."

1935:  THE MOSCOW METRO IS OPENED TO THE PUBLIC.

I can't think of a worse place to be than Russia during rush hour.

1936:  ACTRESS ANNA MARIA ALBERGHETTI IS BORN.

With meatballs.

1936:  CLOWN WAVY GRAVY IS BORN.

And I still don't know who the hell he is.

1940:  SINGER LAINIE KAZAN IS BORN.

She always plays a fussy old Jew.  Probably because she is.

1940:  MCDONALD'S OPENS ITS FIRST RESTAURANT IN SAN BERNARDINO, CALIFORNIA.

Two Served.

1942:   IN THE US, A BILL CREATED THE WOMEN'S ARMY AUXILIARY CORPS IS SIGNED INTO LAW.

They're called WAACs and that sure describes any girl I ever knew.

1948:  FOLLOWING THE DEMISE OF THE BRITISH MANDATE OF PALESTINE, EGYPT, TRANSJORDAN, LEBANON, SYRIA, IRAQ, AND SAUDI ARABIA INVADE ISRAEL THUS STARTING THE 1948 ARAB-ISRAELI WAR.

Talk about a pile-on.

1953:  BASEBALL STAR GEORGE BRETT IS BORN.

Without the aid of any pine tar in the birth canal.

1963:  THE LAUNCH OF THE FINAL MERCURY MISSION, MERCURY-ATLAS 9 WITH ASTRONAUT GORDON COOPER ON BOARD.  HE BECOMES THE FIRST AMERICAN TO SPEND MORE THAN A DAY IN SPACE.

On that very day, I was attending my first ever baseball game at Yankee Stadium.  I remember this because the scoreboard kept telling us how many orbits Cooper had completed.

1969:  CALIFORNIA GOVERNOR RONALD REAGAN HAS AN IMPROMPTU STUDENT PARK OWNED BY UC-BERKELEY FENCED OFF FROM STUDENT ANTI-WAR PROTESTORS IN A RIOT CALLED BLOODY TUESDAY.

There he goes again.

1972:  IN LAUREL, MARYLAND, ARTHUR BREMER SHOOTS AND PARALYZES ALABAMA GOVERNOR GEORGE WALLACE WHILE HE IS CAMPAIGNING TO BECOME PRESIDENT.

If he was aiming for the head, he missed.

1994:  ACTOR GILBERT ROLAND DIES.

The tightrope walker in "The Big Circus."  

2003:  SINGER JUNE CARTER CASH DIES.

Cash is no longer king.  Or queen.

2007:  PASTOR JERRY FALWELL DIES.

See ya, dirt bag.

2008:  CALIFORNIA BECOMES THE SECOND US STATE AFTER MASSACHUSETTS TO LEGALIZE SAME-SEX MARRIAGE.

When do the polygamy activists get their day in court?  

2015:  FOOTBALL STAR GARO YEPREMIAN DIES.

He kicked...the bucket.

Dinner last night:  Had a big lunch so just a small salad.

Reboot Rebuff

Well, "Murphy Brown" is no more.  Again.   The much heralded "11th season" reboot of the CBS show was finally cancelled after just 13 episodes.   Indeed, the last installment aired so long ago (late December) that nobody probably remembered it was even on.

I had high hopes and still a warm heart for the only sitcom I ever actually appeared in.   Creator Diane English and Candice Bergen had good intentions.  The highly bi-polar political climate was ideal for Murphy to revisit and comment on.   You got the impression that English and Bergen were salivating by mouth at the thought of tackling the Trump presidency.  

And therein lies the reason why it never caught on.   Ironically, other reboots have been successful.   The "Roseanne/Conners" series is surprisingly entertaining.   At the same time, "Will and Grace" is absolutely dreadful even though it is coming back for yet another year.

So, "Murphy Brown" certainly had the pedigree and the cast and the creative forces to make it work.   

The only trouble was they tried too hard to be political and edgy.  Keep in mind that CBS doesn't just have affiliates in the blue cities of New York, Chicago, and Los Angeles.  And they wrote from one point of view which I am sure turned off the good citizens of Oklahoma City.

Sure, the original MB was political and edgy, but times were different and tones were not as vociferous.   From the moment in the premiere where Hillary Clinton showed up to be Murphy's next doomed secretary, you knew there was an agenda at work.

Ironically, my original thoughts on how I would have brought back MB were the ones English and company should have taken.   I fashioned an updated series where Murphy's adult son Avery was also in the news business but working at the Fox-like Wolf Network.  But, in my blueprint, Avery was a staunch conservative.   This would have set up a balanced and fun weekly debate not unlike "All in the Family."

Well, yes, English had Avery working at Wolf but, in her world, Avery was working there as the lone liberal voice.   Um, apparently you can be half pregnant.  Why not take the route of funny and balanced with a Mom-Son relationship that many Americans can relate to.   

Boat.  Missed.

At the end of the day, English and her writers were probably incapable of writing from that perspective.  So, the end result for 13 episodes were plots that were often more preachy than funny.   The episode I saw taped in early November was all about reporter Frank Fontana getting beat up by Trump-supporting goons at a rally.  Cringe.  Worthy.

Oh, there were other smaller problems, too.  Grant Shaud was completely wasted as the hyper kinetic producer Miles Silverberg.  Candice, who was obviously slowed by a stroke several years ago, occasionally drifted in and out with energy levels.   

And what was the reasoning behind CBS' decision to run the 13 episodes so quickly last fall?  They should have savored the series like a fine wine.   It was almost like they wanted to get the installments run as soon as possible.

One mistake after another.   And, as a result, the fine legacy of "Murphy Brown" ends not with a crescendo, but a resounding thud.

Dinner last night:  Chopped salad.

Monday Morning Video Laugh - May 13, 2019

The press can't get a break these days.

Dinner last night:  Cold London broil and salad.

The Sunday Memory Drawer - Mom Memories on Mother's Day

The photo of my mother was taken as she was retiring from her very last job.  I forget the name of the place but I think it was on Columbus Avenue in Mount Vernon, New York.  She had already given up the daily rat race of commuting into Manhattan for her job at Ernst and Young.

Ah, the latter part of my mother's life.  That time when the child-parent dynamic shifts and you---the child---wind up as the governing body of their---the parent---life.  It happens to all of us as illness and age always arrives unfortunately too soon. 

After she retired from work, it fell to me as an only child to be the one who imposed a monthly budget on my mother.  Over the years, I had learned that there wasn't a dollar bill that my mom couldn't spend.  She was always Lucy Ricardo looking to buy that new hat and hide it from Ricky.  I've written before of those times where my mother secretly made deals with loan companies to help her get through some shortfalls.  We're not talking Federal deficit spending levels, but Mom could always do her best to continually stimulate the economy of Mount Vernon's shopping district.

Once she was on a fixed income, I knew that I had to step in with a vengeance before Mom ran up another tab to Bromley's Dress Shop on Fourth Avenue.  It was time to present her with a business option.

With her Social Security and a small pension, she would pay her rent and the rest of her money would be hers to play with for the month.  I would pay the utilities, the cable bill, and any medical-related costs.  From my calculations, she'd have more than enough to get her food, eat at the diner with my building cronies, and, of course, keep some cigarette company solvent for another decade.  

This worked.  For a little bit.  And, then, one month...

"I'm a little short."

Yeah, about 5-4.  That was my snarky answer.  

After getting through the requisite hemming and hawing, I would eventually discover that Mom's money hadn't stretched properly for the month because she was busy extending it all over her apartment complex.  It seems some of her friends were also short as well and my mother was their most requested and willing philantrophist.   Trickle down economics that was leaving a large puddle in my wallet.

Mom was particularly taken in by the across-the-hall couple, Marge and Missy.  They were, as my mother would always whisper to me, "lesbians."  Frankly, I didn't give him a shit about their sexual preferences, as long as I wasn't the one financing their Double A batteries.   I had to shut down that particular branch of the First National Bank of Mom.

Several months later...

"I'm a little short."

You have grown any since the last time?  Another snappy retort from yours truly.

After I ran down the list of building occupants and ensured that they were not being regularly funded by my mother,  I was stumped.  She should have plenty of money to live comfortably.  Except...

I looked over at her credenza.  On top, in plain sight, there were four or five piles of Lotto tickets.  Forget supporting the apartment complex.  My mother was now subsidizing the State of New York.

"But if I hit the big one, I'll give you all the money."

And, at this rate, that will only be 1/100th of the current deficit being amassed in this studio apartment.

New rule in place.  She was allowed to buy only three Lotto tickets a week.  That was it.  If she was short again, I never got the question.

In retrospect,  I should have been happy that these monetary squabbles were as insignificant as they were.  Indeed, forced retirement had goaded some other issues to bubble up for my mother.  She didn't like to be inactive and had a very tough time adjusting to a non-working lifestyle.  As far back as when I was in high school, Mom had taken a job in a Manhattan accounting firm and loved commuting via Metro North to the city.  When that stopped for her, the long buried arthritic pains began.  And they frequently prevented her from getting out of bed in the morning.

From a distance, I realized she was using the aches and pains as an excuse to not leave her apartment.  When I saw it becoming more acute, I called a psychiatrist and made an appointment for her.

"I'm not nuts."

You're also not bedridden, either.  I pledged to cut off her monthly financing if she didn't at least see the guy once.

"Can I buy five Lotto tickets a week?"

A negotiation.

I must confess that my mother was not a person who shared her life's history.  Ever.  She had a sister and both had been orphaned in their early teens.  Their parents, my maternal grandparents, apparently died at the same time.  Likely from one of those killer influenza outbreaks.  I knew their names, but never saw a picture or heard any stories.  The motto in my house was like the military.

Don't ask.  Don't tell.

So, the thought that my mother was going to open up to some stranger seemed to be a dicey prospect.  And a huge waste of money if she simply went in there to discuss the weather or last night's edition of Jeopardy.

My mom's shrink was Dr. Frenkel and his big claim to fame were some studies he had developed with regard to lights and colors.  His whole business model was constructed around the notion that everybody had a key positive color and a key negative color.  The pro-color would trigger good sensations.  The con-color would spike your pain.  Naturally, you wanted to be awash in your good color and the way you do that is with tinted glasses.  Dr. Frenkel obviously had cut a side deal with Lenscrafters.

After his testing, Dr. Frenkel declared that my mother's positive color was purple.  And, of course, he had the direct connection to a pair of them for $119.50, thank you very much.  Even more importantly, he also concluded that there was a two-way tie for her bad colors.  The ones that gave her intense pain.

Green and brown.

Holy shit. 

The furniture in her apartment?  Brown.

The wall-to-wall carpeting in her apartment?  Green.

If Dr. Frenkel was correct, my mother was spending her days in several shades of Hell.

Of course, Mom needed more than just a new pair of sunglasses.  Dr. Frenkel wanted to get to the bottom of her pain triggering colors.  And that would be done via a one-hour appointment every Saturday afternoon.

A new routine began.  I'd pick her up and drive up to the doctor's Scarsdale house.  After dropping her off, I would venture to a White Plains mall for a time-killing lunch and then go pick her up when she was done.  One Saturday, Dr. Frenkel was off his schedule and, when I came by to retrieve Mom, she was still inside his office. 

I sat patiently and quietly in the waiting room which was certainly not insulated for sound.  I could hear every word of Dr. Frenkel's session with my mother.  I thought quickly about covering my ears.  Maybe I'd hear something I didn't want to know.  But, my attention was piqued.

Dr. Frenkel had closed in on why Mom hated the color brown.

She was talking about a brown teddy bear.  She loved it so.  And, when she was five years old,  it was taken away from her by...

I walked quickly outside.  I didn't want to know.  Her pain and anguish needed to be private.

And I never did find out.  I decided that splurging on Lotto tickets was probably the least of what my mother had dealt with in her life.

Happy Mother's Day, all.

Dinner last night:  Grilled London broil, pan roasted tomatoes, and macaroni sald.