Another Day at the Gym

Here's a photo of the gym I used in West LA.  It's one of those places where only trainers can go with their clients.  I'm usually there Tuesday and Fridays.  Keeping myself mobile.

And listening to the world around me...

Since this gym is in the United States, it naturally mirrors the composition of the country.  Meaning that it is fiercely and fatally bi-polar politically.  And it raises its ugly head from time to time.   Right after Trump got elected, I actually watched a fist fight between two fifty-year-old women in the massage room.  Just because one of the gals was wearing a MAGA t-shirt.

Meanwhile, there is one real pig that works out here when I do.  She was formally some TV development executive but recently got shitcanned because she's pushing 75 or 80.   Her face reflects how she deals with age.   She's had face work that is desperately trying to make her look 50.   Except the work must have been done by Earl Scheib because, in reality, it makes her look 85.   My trainer and I have nicknamed her something that actually has caught on around the gym.

Hatchet Face.  There is a head shot of her on-line.   I would not post it here as it is liable to get me kicked off the Blogger website.

Well, Hatchet Face has another detestable trait.   She is completely intolerant of any political opinions not her own.  She essentially vomits talking points heard on MSNBC.  When we know she is due to appear, my trainer playfully switches the TV overhead to Fox News.   She goes ballistic.

Yep, this woman is a real bitch.

And, last week, I was privy to a conversation she was having with one of the trainers who obviously sits on the other side of the aisle.   They were discussing the current impeachment controversy.

HF:  "Well, we need whistle blowers in this country.   We need people on the inside to expose the treachery that is going on."

Trainer:  "So, you fully support whistle blowers?"

HF:  "Absolutely."

Trainer:  "So that means you find nothing wrong with what Snowden leaked?  Or Julian Assange."

HF:  "No, that's different."

Trainer:  "How is it different?"

HF:  "It just is."

Trainer:  "How?"

HF:  "I'm not talking to you any more."

She and her plastic face walked away.

And, ladies and gentlemen, that is what America is all about on this day, October 17, 2019.

Dinner last night:  Chopped salad.

This Date in History - October 16

Happy birthday, Tim McCarver.  The man who taught my mother baseball.

456:  MAGISTER MILITUM RICIMER DEFEATS EMPEROR AVITUS AT PIACENZA AND BECOMES MASTER OF THE WESTERN ROMAN EMPIRE.

An awful lot to type if you don't really care.

1384:  JADWIGA IS CROWNED KING OF POLAND, ALTHOUGH SHE IS A WOMAN.

If this is a simple mistake, then that Jadwiga must be one ugly lady.

1590:  CARLO GESAULDO, COMPOSER, PRINCE OF VENOSA AND COUNT OFCONZA, MURDERS HIS WIFE, DONNA MARIA D'AVALO AND HER LOVER FABRIZIO CARAFA THE DUKE OF ANDRIA.

Even more to type and I don't really care.

1793:  MARIE ANTOINETTE, WIDOW OF LOUIS XVI, IS GUILLOTINED.  

If you need this basket for the laundry, you better wash it out first.

1834:  MUCH OF THE PALACE OF WESTMINSTER IN LONDON BURNS TO THE GROUNDS.

But what about the London Bridges?  Aren't they falling down?

1846:  WILLIAM TG MORTON IS THE FIRST TO ADMINISTER ETHER ANESTHESIA.

Gee, I hope he was a doctor.

1875:  BRIGHAM YOUNG UNIVERSITY IS FOUNDED IN PROVO, UTAH.

Introduction to Mormons 101 is open for enrollment.

1916:  IN BROOKLYN, NEW YORK, MARGARET SANGER OPENS THE FIRST FAMILY PLANNING CLINIC IN THE US.

Because not everybody is interested in birthin' babies.

1917:  ACTRESS ALICE PEARCE IS BORN.

Abner!

1923:  COMPOSER BERT KAEMPFERT IS BORN.

His mother has a song request.  Red Roses for a Sore Pelvis.

1923:  THE WALT DISNEY COMPANY IS FOUNDED BY WALT DISNEY.

Gee, I wonder if they ever turned a profit.

1925:  ACTRESS ANGELA LANSBURY IS BORN.

Birthday, She Wrote.

1928:  ACTRESS ANN MORGAN GUILBERT IS BORN.

Millie Halper, next door neighbor to Rob and Laura Petrie.

1939:  THE FIRST ATTACK ON BRITISH TERRITORY BY THE GERMAN LUFTWAFFE.

I guess the Nazis weren't big on scones and clotted cream.

1941:  BASEBALL STARS/SPORTSCASTER TIM MCCARVER IS BORN.

Many people don't like him.  I, however, think he was great.  Terrific career, Timmy.

1944:  WALLY WALRUS, WOODY WOODPECKER'S FOIL, DEBUTS IN A WALTER LANTZ CARTOON.

Chilly Willy can't be far behind.

1946:  ACTRESS SUZANNE SOMERS IS BORN.

If you want to laugh a lot, watch her next show on the Home Shopping Network.

1962:  THE CUBAN MISSILE CRISIS BEGINS WHEN PRESIDENT JOHN KENNEDY IS SHOWN PHOTOGRAPHS OF MISSILE SITES IN CUBA.

"What?  You only have black and white??"

1964:  CHINA DETONATES ITS FIRST NUCLEAR WEAPON.

And we were worried about Russia?

1964:  SOVIET LEADERS LEONID BREZHNEV AND ALEXEI KOSYGIN ARE INAUGURATED IN RUSSIA.

Bye, bye, Nikita.

1968:  US ATHLETES TOMMIE SMITH AND JOHN CARLOS ARE KICKED THE US OLYMPIC TEAM FOR PARTICIPATING IN THE BLACK POWER SALUTE.

Right on, brother!

1969:  THE NEW YORK METS WIN THE WORLD SERIES.

And a young boy in Mount Vernon, New York has his first moment of glory in life.

1972:  ACTOR LEO G. CARROLL DIES.

"George!  Marian!"

1973:  HENRY KISSINGER AND LE DUC THO ARE AWARDED THE NOBEL PEACE PRIZE.

Is this before or after Kissinger was shtupping Jill St. John?

1973:   DRUMMER GENE KRUPA DIES.

Bang this.

1978:  KAROL WOJTYLA IS ELECTED POPE PAUL II.

A big day for Poland because...

1978:  WANDA RUTKIEWICZ IS THE FIRST POLE AND EUROPEAN WOMAN TO REACH THE TOP OF MOUNT EVEREST.

Kielbasie for everybody!

1978:  ACTOR DAN DAILEY DIES.

Mother Wore Tights.  Dad Wore Shrouds.

1984:  DESMOND TUTU IS AWARDED THE NOBEL PEACE PRIZE.

He did not sleep with Jill St. John.  As far as I know.

1989:  ACTOR CORNEL WILDE DIES.

The Greatest Wake on Earth.

1995:  THE MILLION MAN MARCH OCCURS IN WASHINGTON, DC.

Any excuse to take a day off.

1997:  ACTRESS AUDRA LINDLEY DIES.

Mrs. Roper!!

1997:  AUTHOR JAMES MICHENER DIES.

Did he ever write a book shorter than 1000 pages?

1999:  RADIO HOST JEAN SHEPHERD DIES.

This is worse than poking your eye out.

2004:  FORMER WHITE HOUSE PRESS SECRETARY PIERRE SALINGER DIES.

He had no comment.

2006:  A MAGNITUDE 6.7 EARTHQUAKE ROCKS HAWAII.

Hawaii 6.7.

2007:  ACTRESS DEBORAH KERR DIES.

From Here to Real Eternity.

2010:  ACTRESS BARBARA BILLINGSLEY DIES.

"Gee, Ward, I'm worried about June."

2012:  BASEBALL PLAYER/COACH EDDIE YOST DIES.

On this very date in 1969, he was coaching third base for the World Series winning New York Mets.

Dinner last night:  The last of the leftover meat loaf.

Judy, Judy, Judy

It was a given this fall.  I would see "Judy" as quickly as I would see "Downton Abbey."  Whereas I checked out the latter on its first weekend, the Dodgers' playoff run kept me away from the former longer than I thought.  

But, as soon as the Dodgers did their early and unexpected check-out, I made a beeline to Miss Garland.  It was my first step in baseball detox this October.

And, boy, did it ever!!!

Okay, regular readers know that I am a fan of Judy.   This was handed down to me by my mother, who was a huge devotee.  Had I been born a girl, Judy would have been my name.   I had my mother's ashes interred in Ferncliff Cemetery near Judy for about 20 years...until Liza and company moved their mom out to Hollywood Forever.

Long story short.  There are connections.

So, naturally, I was a mite skeptical about Renee Zellweger playing Garland. But, as soon as she showed up on the screen, I was mesmerized.   Renee not only portrayed Judy, but she became her.   The mannerisms.  The facial tics.  The walk.   It was all there.   And, as a result, Zellweger gives a bravura performance that is sure to win at least an Oscar nomination.  My only fear is that diversity-conscious Hollywood will present the Best Actress to whichever nominee is Black, Hispanic, Asian, or transgendering.   If they bypass Renee, it will be a huge crime.

Now, of course, you wonder how Renee Zellweger could possibly become Judy Garland vocally.   Well, in a wise acting choice, she does not.   No one could duplicate that sound.  But Zellweger puts her own take on the five or six songs she does from the Garland songbook.   And while it doesn't sound like Judy, it's still unmistakably Judy.

This marvelous film directed by Rupert Goold is actually based on a Broadway play "End of the Rainbow" that I saw myself at the Ahmanson Theater a few years back.  It tells the tale of Judy's last months of life.   Working at a London nightclub "The Talk of the Town" and still experiencing the major ups and downs of life that had enveloped her existence ever since she worked for Louis B. Mayer at MGM.  

While the play pretty much was set in Judy's hotel room, the movie branches out further and even employs some flashbacks to her youth on the set of "Wizard of Oz" as well as some orchestrated dates with a young Mickey Rooney.  The shifting back and forth works to show that the external damage that Judy endured as a child never really left.  She was tortured the same way...at 17 and at 47.

While there's not much I don't already know about Judy Garland, this film was still eye-opening and presented Judy in ways I had never seen before.  Moreover, it reaffirmed that this woman was an exceptional talent that will never ever be duplicated.

Indeed, while this is a movie about Judy Garland, it is also very much Renee Zellweger's greatest cinematic work.  I think, in a way, that Judy herself would be proud to see how Renee portrayed her.   

This is one not to be missed this fall.  Even if your baseball team is still in the post season hunt.

Bravo.  Brava.

LEN'S RATING:  Four stars.

Dinner last night:  Leftover meat loaf.

Monday Morning Video Laugh - October 14, 2019

The very funny Christine Pedi as Liza Minnelli.   Christine is, like me, a Fordham graduate and a fellow WFUV alumnus.   Well played....

Dinner last night:  German meat loaf, caramelized onions, and glazed carrots.

The Sunday Memory Drawer - When Your Baseball Team Loses

As Yogi would say, it's deja vu all over again.  The pain.  The anguish.  You think you get used to it.  You don't.  And yet you still come back for more.

I don't have to time travel too far back to pull this mental picture into my foreground. This is also on my mind since I just attended a Game 5 NLDS clincher for the Nationals at Dodger Stadium. It was perhaps the most excruciating game I have ever attended since Game 4 of the NLCS 1988 when Mike Scioscia of the Dodgers which I then hated hit a ninth inning homer off Dwight Gooden of the Mets which I then loved.   Momentum swung like a pendulum and I remember screaming in the mezzanine as Gooden began the ninth inning.

Take him out.

Just like I was doing last Wednesday night from the Dodger Stadium Loge when Dave Roberts managed the Dodger bullpen as if his life didn't depend upon it.  

Take him out.  

Momentum always swings.  In 1988.  In 2019.  This was an October that I thought I would be celebrating the fiftieth anniversary of the Mets World Series with a similar victory from the Dodgers.  Um, not this year.

I happened to be in the bathroom when Howie Kendrick hit his grand slam that put the hydraulic brakes to the Dodgers' postseason.  When I came out of the men's room, it was like somebody had yelled "fire" in a crowded disco.   Mass exodus.  No parting of the Red Sea required.

Fans would have to suck it up one more winter.   But isn't that how a baseball fan is born?  By coping with the pain so that the victory down the road will taste so much sweeter.

I remembered a previous moment from my baseball life.

Thursday, October 26, 2000. Unbeknownst to us at the time, this would be the last World Series ever to played at the now-dismantled Shea Stadium. For the first time ever, it's the Yankees versus the Mets in the Fall Classic---a Subway Series in its truest sense.

We're at Game 5 and the Mets need to win to prevent the Yankees from clinching it all. In a very tight game, the Yankees manage to pull it together in the top of the ninth. As future Hall of Famer Mariano Rivera attempts to close it out for the Bronx contingent, the final hopes rest on the shoulders of Mike Piazza. He offers one mighty swing and sends one soaring to the centerfield wall. 

On most nights, this is a home run. 

But, in the late October misty air of Flushing Bay, the moisture holds the ball in the air long enough for it to be pocketed by centerfielder Bernie Williams. The Yankees celebrate at Shea Stadium, of all places. Manager Joe Torre is hoisted aloft, sobbing all the while. Another great Fall for the Yankees. Another mighty fall for the Mets.

Watching from the third base of the mezzanine level are yours truly and my best friend from high school, Danny. Being true baseball fans and sportsmen, we did not skulk into the night with disgust. We stayed and watched the festivities. Next to us were two Yankee fans. 

A dad and his eight-year-old son. The youngster is decked out in the warmest of Yankee apparel. He is grinning from ear to ear. Danny and I remember the feeling of being there in 1986 when our own team was doing all the whoop-de-doing. We leaned over and shook the boy's hand in congratulations. He thanked us and continued to bask in his life's most significant moment to date.

It was the dad's response that has always stuck with me.

"This is great and all, but, for his sake, I hope they lose one of these years."

Huh?

He continued in the role of Hugh Beaumont as Beaver's wise old dad.

"Ever since he got interested in baseball, the Yankees win every year. They need to lose so he can finally understand what it is to be a true fan."

Sheer brilliance and wisdom amidst the hot dog wrappers of Section 22. A father who truly knew how to balance life with fandom. I've taught about that exchange many times. Every time my team loses a playoff or a division title or a close game. And I think about that kid who, in the very next year, probably learned and cried a lot when the Yankees blew Game 7 of the 2001 World Series to the Arizona Diamondbacks.

I wonder if the kid is still a Yankee rooter. I should do hope so. Because that would make him a real fan.

This memory came back to me as I mounted the Loge stairs of Dodger Stadium for the last time in 2019.  Also leaving are a dad and two young sons.  Decked out in Dodger blue.  And as crestfallen as possible.   This time, I decided to be Hugh Beaumont.

I said to the two boys that this is why we are fans.  Because it will be so great when it finally does happen.   The kids looked at me like I had two heads.

But the dad smiled.  He got it.

So that's the bi-polar nature of the tale.   The boy in 2000 who had only tasted victory.  And the two boys in 2019 who have only endured defeat.  

And a bunch of adults trying to make sense of it all.  And never really managing to do so.

That's why we are fans.   

Dinner last night:  Turkey burger at the Westside Tavern.

Classic Newsreel of the Month - October 2019

And October AKA "Baseball Month" continues....  Will there be another LA Dodgers World Series here sixty years later??  Um, no.

Dinner last night:  Fried chicken sandwich at the Arclight.

The Church Sign Proofreader Is On Vacation Again

Dinner last night:  Maple bourbon salad with bacon.