Just In Time Indeed

 

One of the major problems when you have four significant surgeries over the course of four years?

I missed going to live performances.   Most notably on Broadway.  Oh, I've done a few shows during the recovery mode, but it was a hassle.   Given the lack of legroom on the Great White Way, seating is always a hassle.   And the crowds make everybody a fall risk.

But, on my last NY trip, I finally found a good reason to endure all of the above.  I saw the lauded Bobby Darin tribute called "Just In Time."  And it was perhaps one of the best shows I have seen in a decade.

First off, I would go to the venue any day of the week.   The Circle in the Square is a relatively "newish" theater as it was built in 1972.   There's automatically more legroom.   And, with this show, the staging depicted a Vegas night club.  And, because of the layout, there are frequent moments where one of the cast members is performing five feet away from you.

Now Bobby Darin was originally played to the hilt by the wonderful Jonathan Groff but he's already left the show.  But, have no fear, his replacement is the equally reliable Jeremy Jordan and he was terrific.

But, truth be told, my main enticement in the cast was the presence in the role of Connie Francis of Isa Briones, who is hotter than blazes currently as Dr. Santos in "The Pitt."  I wanted to see her and so did a lot of other patrons.   I was asked repeatedly by fans to take selfies of them underneath her poster in the lobby.  And to make things even more special, she performed "Who's Sorry Now" just five feet away from my seat.   And we made eye contact.

God, I have missed going to live performances.

Everything about this show is perfect.   The tunes are terrific.  The acting is top notch.   Oh, sure, the ending is a bit of a Debbie Downer because...well...Darin died at the age of 37.  But that's a small sad price to pay when you are thoroughly engaged for a comfortable two-and-a-half hours.   

Maybe just the sheer experience of being back...and not broken...on Broadway. But seeing a magnificent show sure did make it even more special.

Stages of America, I will be back.

Dinner last night: Hamburger.

The Sunday Memory Drawer - The Sunday Funny Papers

 

Again, sensory perception conjures up another memory.  

When I return to my New York existence from time to time, I immediately fall into some immediate patterns that I don't really practice in Los Angeles.  There are certain foods I will only crave in New York.  Or schedules that I adhere to there and not here.  The here and there are, of course, interchangeable.

One such beast is Sunday morning.  In Los Angeles, I will wake up and get ready for church.  While dressed and waiting for my hair to dry, I will have an English muffin with Nutella and open up the Los Angeles Times that has been delivered to my front door.  Most Sundays, I will immediately zip through the sports pages and then tackle the Sudoku puzzle.  If I can get that done before church, I am gold.  Usually, I won't tackle the rest of the newspaper until later.  If there is a Sunday afternoon Dodger game at home, I may never finish that Sunday's LA Times.

When in New York, after all these years, I revert back to habits developed decades ago.  And now performed only when I am there.

I don't get a newspaper delivered there so I have to get dressed (with a baseball cap covering my bed head) and drive to the...wait for it...local candy store which is adjacent to the...wait for this as well...local bakery.  I'll get my breakfast of a muffin or a bagel.  Purchase the New York Daily News and, thanks Dad, for establishing that priority when I was five years old.

I drive home.  Lay out the food on the dining room table and open the paper.  

I have to eat my breakfast while reading the Sunday comics.  Or, as you may have called them, the funny papers.

Of course, without the driving, this was my Sunday morning since I was about six years old.  Heck, I was reading the paper before that.  But I absolutely had to this each and every week.  Even when I was going to Sunday School in the Bronx, I couldn't leave the house until those funny papers had been completely absorbed by my eyeballs.

In the summertime, I would particularly savor the whole process.  With Sunday School in remission for July and August, the comics would be lingered over.  I'd take them to my favorite reading spot next to the kitchen fan.  I would wedge myself into that corner.  And spend the next hour lost in the color drawings that seemed to go on endlessly.  

In 2026, the comics in daily newspapers are always condensed to fit now into just two pages.  The type in the Los Angeles Times is so small that I need a magnifying glass to see what Linus is saying.  The same is happening in New York.  

But, back then, the Sunday comic supplement went on endlessly.  And so did I.

There were some Sundays that, despite my ability to read at a very young age, I would go downstairs and let my grandfather do his best Fiorello LaGuardia impersonation for me.  As I sat alongside him at the kitchen with their window fan blasting nearby, I would be enraptured as Grandpa would take me from panel to panel.

"So, Moon Mullins picks Kayo up and puts him to bed and says..."

Grandpa and I had our favorites.

Gasoline Alley, which had a character named Skeezix.  I once asked Grandpa what kind of name that was.  My grandfather's reply : "I don't know but it sure as hell isn't German."

There was the little bald-headed kid named Henry.  He also was apparently a deaf mute.  Henry was written with no lines.   Grandpa and I would survey the panels and then simply chuckle at the end.

There were the continuing stories starring the likes of Brenda Starr, Steve Canyon, Rex Morgan MD, and Winnie Winkle.  For those, you had to read the paper Monday through Saturday to keep up.  But, most of the action was saved for Grandpa and me on Sundays.

While Grandpa was not a fan, I loved the exploits of Dondi.

The kid was close to my age, so I could identify with him.  Except, as I later learned, he was a WWII war orphan, so our similarities ended there.  

At some point, Hollywood attempted to make a movie based on Dondi.  I hounded my dad to take me to see it.  When it came to life before my eyes, I realized it was more fun to read it.  As it turns out, a variety of film historians call it one of the worst movies ever made.  Agreed.

Meanwhile, on the back page, there was Dick Tracy and Grandpa was a fan of him.  At one point, they made a series of TV cartoons based on the character.  This was confusing to me since Tracy was always there at the beginning but never carried through the entire cartoon.  Instead, you saw a bunch of borderline offensive subordinate detectives named Go-Go Gomez, Joe Jit-su, and Heap O'Calorie.  The politically incorrect police today would have a field day.  As for me back in the day, the cartoons were nothing like what Grandpa had to read to me the previous Sunday.  Another foolproof way to confuse the shit out of a seven-year-old.

Somehow, though, my favorite comic strip was always Blondie.

Although the confused person that always sat firmly inside of me couldn't figure out what the comic was called Blondie when it was always about Dagwood.  Still, despite the title issue I would raise, the adventures of the Bumsteads were ideal for me since my family values were being formed on television situation comedies.  Where one of the parents was always getting into trouble and the other, usually smarter parent was there with the wise crack. 

In Blondie, nobody ever seemed to grow old.  Alexander and Cookie were eternally in high school.  Dagwood was always sleeping on the couch.  And Daisy the dog was in every frame.  

Life was quiet and good.  Just what I was looking for.

Perhaps that's why, to this very day, I continue to read Blondie every morning.  Oh, sure, the gags have been updated.  There are references to Twitter and e-mails and reality television.  But, the format has stayed the same.  

Life is still quiet and good.  Just what I'm looking for.

On my last NY Sunday, I made the usual drive for my Sunday morning needs.  Only to be greeted by a sign hanging over the stack of New York Daily News editions.

"SORRY, DUE TO A PRINTER PROBLEM, THERE ARE NO COMICS TODAY."

My heart sank. I drove to two other stores before I could pick up a copy of the Westchester Journal News which also features Sunday comics.  Luckily, many of my favorites are included.  But the drama was too much for me to handle.

Eventually, I got home.  The weather was toasty.  I spread out the funny papers on the dining room table.  I devoured my chocolate chip muffin in front of the portable fan that I had propped up next to me.

Suddenly, I was six again.  Grandpa, where did we leave off with Nancy and Sluggo?

Dinner last night:  Grilled Taylor Ham.

Classic TV Commercial of the Month - June 2026

The memorable Rheingold Beer.  This commercial featuring the Mets' legendary announcer Bob Murphy. 

Dinner last night:  The charcuterie board at the Dodger Speak Easy.

The Merry Mugs of June

 

With apologies to the Judy Garland movie poster, "A Convict is Born."

 Somebody send him a Super Cuts gift card.

And now Guilty As Sin.

 "What I do?"

Makes you wonder, doesn't it?

Please hold still for your Lancome skin treatment.

 You're too old for that hair do, Granny.

 Oh, my God, they've arrested J. Fred Muggs!!!

Now, is that nice?

You sure are.

The hair looks awful from any angle.

Dinner last night:   Leftover Korean chicken.

Morons of the Month - June 2026

How well timed.  Another monthly tribute to morons two days after the primary elections in California.  Ah, people, you don't let me down.  Because, once again, it is proven that democracy and voting rights are wasted on the population of this country.

Yes, Karen Bass won the mayoral primary and garnered the right to be part of a runoff for re-election in November.   She will run against some schmuck named Spencer Pratt who once was on some reality show I never heard of.  He's probably not the sharpest tool in the shed, but he did lose his home in the Palisade fires.  He is likely very genuine about his emotions and, let's face it, I would vote for a Chick Fil A kitchen worker before I would ever pull a lever for Karen Bass.   It says here she got about 35% of the vote.   Given her ineptitude in a host of political positions, I'd be surprised if 35 people voted for her.

But I have written about her here before.   When, back in 2018, she was a Moron of the Month.  Cue the flashback.

 

Let's get this month's stupidity out of the way on Day One.

This is my Congress representative Karen Bass...leave off the B.  I have never met her or seen her out in public.  She is my voice in the House of Representatives and I might as well have Marcel Marceau.  

As most people know, I think there should be a special place in Hell for anybody who's ever held public office.  To be a politician is to be a complete fraud and Karen Bass...leave off the B...is no different.  She doesn't represent my views or even has acknowledged my opinion, which I did try to share with her three years ago.   More on that later.  Simply, she is just the typical political charlatan who takes her party views and turns them into her own original thoughts.   Of course, when it comes to politicians, there really are no original thoughts.

So, two nights ago, I was upholding my long standing streak of not watching the State of the Union address.   I have not watched one since 2002 and the only reason I viewed that one was because we were still enduring the pain and trauma of 9/11.  These speeches are a pointless charade in a country which is now hopelessly and fatally fractured by two completely inept political parties. But, apparently just as the speech ended, my phone rang.  I looked at the caller ID.

OFFICE OF KAREN BASS.

I've had these calls before but was looking to be amused.  I picked it up.

Ms. Bass...leave off the B...was doing one of her phone town halls.  She was jabbering about whatever Trump said and somehow meandered into discussing how the United States should worry about poor people in Africa.

I hung up.  

I thought about my drive back from the gym earlier in the day.  I passed one homeless encampment after another.   This is a critical problem in Los Angeles right now.   Hey, the homeless are the main reason why all those fires started two months ago.   One of those folks who ignited the flames on the side of the 405 Freeway in Brentwood is not hiding in the crawlspace of my church. That's one of a dozen or so issues in my neighborhood right now.

So what is Karen Bass...leave off the B...focusing on?   Everything but.   She is just one more asshole who simply parrots her party's talking points as if Edgar Bergen had his hand up her back.   This woman represents me in Washington DC and is utterly clueless and worthless.

But I knew that already.

Flashback to three years ago.  For some bizarre reason, the office of Karen Bass...leave off the B...contacted me to help her battle Tea Party Republicans who were gunning for Obama's Affordable Healthcare Act.  Oh, and the way to defeat it was by clicking a convenient link.   It took me to her re-election campaign fund drive.

Typical.

So I chose to actually e-mail Ms. Bass...leave off the B.   I explained to this moron that health care was a very complex issue in America.   I related to her all the costs I was bearing at the time with my own private health insurance...costs that were depleting my bank account quickly.  I invited her to have a dialogue with me.

Karen Bass...leave off the B...never had the common courtesy to respond.  Likely, she never saw the e-mail.  I am guessing somebody on her overpaid staff looked at my last name, said "white guy," and immediately trashed it.

And there you have it.  American government in a nutshell.  

But, as I salute Karen Bass...leave off the B...as this month's honorary moron, I realize that it could be worse.   I could live several miles south and wind up with Maxine Waters as my Congressional representative.  I have friends who are stuck with her.   They also tried to contact her.   

They didn't get an answer either.

And there you have it.  2018 and 2026.  She was once a monthly moron.  Now I officially add anybody who voted for her on June 2. 

Dinner last night:   Korean chicken.

This Date in History - June 3

 

On this date, the poem "Casey at the Bat" was first published.  From the picture, I wish we knew the date Casey started to take steroids.

350: THE ROMAN USURPER, NEPOTIANUS, OF THE CONSTANTINIAN DYNASTY, PROCLAIMS HIMSELF ROMAN EMPEROR.

Ne-potty-anus?  Now there's a name they need to rethink.

713: THE BYZANTINE EMPEROR PHILIPPICUS IS BLINDED, DEPOSED, AND SENT INTO EXILE. BY THE OPSIKION ARMY IN THRACE.

It certainly sucks to be Philippicus.

1539:  HERNANDO DE SOTO CLAIMS FLORIDA FOR SPAIN.

His little hideaway.  Ole!

1781:  JACK JOUETT BEGINS HIS MIDNIGHT RIDE TO WARN THOMAS JEFFERSON AND THE VIRGINIA LEGISLATURE OF AN IMPENDING RAID BY BANASTRE TARLETON.

I guess we never hear of the midnight ride of Jack Jouett.

1861:  POLITICIAN STEPHEN A. DOUGLAS DIES.

Jeez, he didn't last long after those debates.

1862:  A 3000-STRONG RIOT OCCURRED AT WARDSEND CEMETERY IN ENGLAND, SETTING OFF RUMORS OF BODY SNATCHING.

The Invasion of...

1866:  THE FENIANS ARE DRIVEN OUT OF ONTARIO INTO THE UNITED STATES.

Who are they and why are we now stuck with them?

1885:  IN THE LAST MILITARY ENGAGEMENT FOUGHT ON CANADIAN SOIL, CREE LEADER BIG BEAR ESCAPES THE NORTH-WEST MOUNTED POLICE.

And later opens his own ski resort in California.

1888:  THE POEM "CASEY AT THE BAT" BY ERNEST LAWRENCE THAYER IS PUBLISHED IN THE SAN FRANCISCO EXAMINER.

Fitting given his size and that city became the future home of that lummox Barry Bonds.

1889:  THE FIRST LONG-DISTANCE ELECTRIC POWER TRANSMISSION LINER IN THE US IS COMPLETED, RUNNING 14 MILES IN OREGON.

Let there be light.   And, oh, yeah, air conditioning.

1911:  ACTRESS ELLEN CORBY IS BORN.

Grandma Walton!

1916:  ACTOR LEO GORCEY IS BORN.

An original Bowery Boy.

1925:  ACTOR TONY CURTIS IS BORN.

Bernie Schwartz to you.

1929:  TV PRODUCER CHUCK BARRIS IS BORN.

A Happy Birthday Kiss!

1937:  THE DUKE OF WINDSOR MARRIES WALLIS SIMPSON.

Homer's sister?

1940:  DURING WORLD WAR II, THE LUFTWAFFE BOMBS PARIS.

Mon dieu!

1941:  DURING WORLD II THE WEHRMACHT RAZES THE GREEK VILLAGE OF KANDANDOS TO THE GROUND, KILLING 180 OF ITS INHABITANTS.

Wehrmacht?  There Macht.

1943:  IN LOS ANGELES, WHITE US NAVY SAILORS AND MARINES CLASH WITH LATINO YOUTHS IN THE ZOOT SUIT RUITS.

Glad to see nothing has changed.

1962:  AT PARIS ORLY AIRPORT, AN AIR FRANCE BOEING 707 OVERRUNS THE RUNWAY AND EXPLODES WHEN THE CREW ATTEMPTS TO ABOUT TAKEOFF, KILLING 130.

Frequent flyer miles achieved: 0.

1963:  POPE JOHN XXIII DIES.

And so begins the six months of funeral proceedings.

1965:  THE LAUNCH OF GEMINI 4.  ASTRONAUT ED WHITE PERFORMS THE FIRST AMERICAN SPACEWALK.

Just in case you thought this was first done by Michael Jackson.

1968:  VALERIE SOLANAS, THE AUTHOR OF SCUM MANIFESTO, ATTEMPTS TO ASSASSINATE ANDY WARHOL BY SHOOTING HIM THREE TIMES.

That piece of scum!

1975:  ACTOR OZZIE NELSON DIES.

The last adventure of Ozzie.

1980:  THE 1980 GRAND ISLAND, NEBRASKA TORNADO - $300 MILLION DOLLARS IN DAMAGE.

You ever wonder if Home Depot secretly prays for these storms?

1992:  ACTOR ROBERT MORLEY DIES.

A distinguished career, but everybody remembers him for those darn British Airways commercials.

1997:  TV HOST DENNIS JAMES DIES.

But he did receive this nice consolation prize.

2001:  ACTOR ANTHONY QUINN DIES.

You just know he was a creep in real life.

2009:  ACTOR DAVID CARRADINE DIES.

Kung Fu this.

2010:  ACTRESS RUE MCCLANAHAN DIES.

She was in the same scene with me in the only sitcom camera appearance I ever made.

2011:  ACTOR JAMES ARNESS DIES.

Gunsmoked.

2011:  SINGER ANDREW GOLD DIES.

How fitting that the writer of "Thank You for Being A Friend" should die one year to the day that Golden Girl Rue passed on.

2011:  ACTIVIST JACK KEVORKIAN DIES.

So, who pulled the plug on him??

2016:  BOXER MUHAMMAD ALI DIES.

TKO.

2021:  ATTORNEY F. LEE BAILEY DIES.

Wonder what the F stands for.

Dinner last night:  Leftover SPO from my freezer.

The Best Movie of 2026

 

Look at the title of today's blog.   Yes, I know it's only June.  But, as far as I'm concerned, the nitwits in Hollywood are going to have to work overtime to top the spectacular "Pressure."  This is now one of the definitive and best movies about the D-Day invasion of Normandy Beach.   And, yes, I realize how good "The Longest Day" was.

Okay, this is not a movie that's going to have a wide range of appeal across various age groups.   I mean, the showing I went to had an audience mostly of folks aged 75 and up.   Two people came in pushing walkers.  Yep, twenty-somethings are going to wonder what the devil was all this fuss about World War II.  But that's the reason why EVERYBODY should see this movie expertly put together by director Anthony Maras.

The plotline is well-known yet simple.   The Allied forces are planning their France invasion largely by sea and air.   Success is contingent upon perfect weather conditions, which one American meteorologist has predicted.   But a British weatherman named James Stagg says otherwise and goes head-to-head with General Dwight Eisenhower.  While the main plot and argument is about storm fronts, the film is so much more.   It's about the momentous decisions military leaders have to make.

Everything in "Pressure" is superb from the direction to the writing to the set decoration.  Indeed, there are only five or six main characters and that results in a super tight movie that tells its story in...get this...101 minutes!

Meanwhile, let's chat some more on the acting.  Andrew Scott is stoic and heroic and multi-layered as Stagg.   And this is another example of how good an actor Brendan Fraser has become.  He commands every moment on the screen as Ike.  He has certainly come a long way from "Encino Man."

Oh, there might be some good movies to come along the rest of 2026 and let's hope so.   But, for the price of my ticket, there is no other Best Film than "Pressure."

LEN'S RATING:  Four stars.

Dinner last night:  Salisbury steak.