Unequaled

 

Here we go again.   Another Netflix documentary.   At this pace, they'll be doing one on my life by February.

Don't get me wrong.   I welcome this perspective because I was a huge fan of the SCTV franchise.   For my money, their comedic sketches were on a par with those from the old Carol Burnett shows.  And it soars over SNL which has never recovered from the loss of their first cast in 1980.

The talent behind SCTV was second to none and, despite the fact that it was only on the air for a couple of years, its comedic moments have never been equalled.

The cast is phenomenal.   Andrea Martin.  Eugene Levy.  Rick Moranis.  Martin Short.   They all went on to wonderful careers.  But none of them have come close to the work they did up there in Canada.

When the subject of a documentary is so revered, you can't help to expect the tribute film to be excellent.   And this one is.   Lots of good talking head interviews.  And clips, clips, and more clips.   At one point, I had torn emotions.  I was laughing so hard at the special "Perry Como Barely Alive."   But it also brought tears to my eyes.

God, we miss this kind of variety show on TV.

LEN'S RATING:  Four stars.

Dinner last night:  Leftover Chinese noodles.

Monday Morning Video Laugh - November 9, 2026

 Multi-cam Sitcom Month continues with this glimpse at one of the best "Frasier" episodes.

Dinner last night:  Ribeye steak.

The Sunday Memory Drawer - Give Me A Hand

 

Indeed, there is some connection between Mickey Mouse and today's memories.  You see the way he is dressed?  For my junior and senior years in high school, I'd dress in a similar fashion going to bed every night.

No, not the shoes.   Focus on the white gloves.   I wore a pair of them whenever I went to sleep.  For a while, I used my grandmother's old ones.  Who else would have had a drawer full of white gloves but her?   And maybe Queen Elizabeth.

Of course, I quickly figured out that those white gloves didn't fit me so I had to go to Genung's Department Store in Mount Vernon, New York.   Um, these don't come in sizes for men.  I asked for the largest ones they had.   Small, medium, large, and Beatrice Arthur.

So, why the need to do this single evening for two solid days?

Contact eczema.  An ugly, ugly skin disease and those are the photos, like frame 313 of the Abraham Zapruder films of the JFK assassination, are not something you want to see.

Yet, I lived it.  

It came out of nowhere really.  I thought it was part of puberty.  Body hair growing in weird places, voices cracking, and incredibly itchy fingers.  The latter became so intense that only the constant wringing of my hands would alleviate the need to scratch.  Of course, once the itching stopped, I felt relief as if it was an orgasm.  Or whatever a fifteen-year-old sense that an orgasm felt like.  

Once the itching stopped, my fingers, and particularly the skin between them, would get dry, crack, and sometimes bleed.  It was disgusting and the main reason why I was always sitting on my hands in American History.  It would take a week or so for the condition to dry up and then you'd think it was gone.

Wrong.  The process would start all over again.

Okay, in the not-trusting-doctors world that was embraced by my folks, this disgusting display had to go through about a dozen iterations until my mother made the obvious suggestion.

"That looks terrible.   You better go to the doctor."

No shit, Mom.

Going to the doctor meant a visit to Dr. Weisberg in the Bronx.  He was our family physician and everybody trusted him with their lives.  I wouldn't have relied on him to pick up my dry cleaning.  The man didn't really work hard and he treated everything as if he was a Boy Scout using a First Aid kit on a mountain hike.   Every possible ailment was handled with aspirin or an Ace bandage.  I've always thought that if Dr. Weisberg was on duty at Parkland Hospital on November 22, 1963, he would have sprayed JFK's head wound with a shot of Ungentine.

Marcus Wel-not-by didn't fail with his treatment of my hands, either.  

"That looks terrible.  Get some Vaseline hand lotion."

D'oh.

The hand cream was useless.  I started using anything of the sort that was in the house.   Whatever Mom had in the bathroom.   Whatever Grandma had in her cosmetics drawer.  I found going to class smelling like a hooker in Berlin.

Nothing worked.  Hand wringing, hand wringing.  Orgasm.  Dryness.  Peeling.  Bleeding.

And all over again.

I completely stopped making hand contact with anybody and anything.

I don't remember who was the genius that finally suggested I visit a dermatologist, but that was the move that saved my teen age dignity.  At last, somebody was going to help.

The diagnosis was a stunner.

I was allergic to virtually every soap, cleanser, shampoo, and cologne.

Thank God oxygen was spared.  

The treatment was even more of a head scratcher.

I was instructed to soak my hands every single night.   Whereas some folks would enjoy a glass of warm milk before bedtime, I got to have the same.   Except instead of drinking it, my hands would soak in it for an hour.  After that, I was told to apply this very greasy prescription ointment to my hands.  

And then cover them all night with white gloves.

This worked well and alleviated the problem.   Except the allergy never went away.  

I couldn't use regular bar soap.  There had to be special purchases of something called Basis Soap, which is chemical free.  In public bathrooms, I could rinse off my hands but never pump the soap dispenser.  

I couldn't put cologne on my hands.  If I ever wanted to smell better, I needed to use a spray.

I couldn't use shampoo unless I was standing in a shower where the constant cascade of water would always and immediately rinse it away.

And I couldn't dare touch household cleansers like detergent, dishwashing liquid, or bleach unless I was wearing rubber gloves.

Whereas it all seemed like a chore at the time, I quickly adapted this all to my life.  

And, decades later, I still maintain the same practices.  Basis Soap.  Rubber gloves.  Shampoo only in a shower.

There are those times where I might spill a little Tide on my hands and I can immediately feel my skin reacting.  It feels like something out of "Little Shop of Horrors."  The monster is being fed.  I run to a sink and run my hands under warm water for two minutes.  

You learn to live with it.

I thought this was solely my cross to bear until a few weeks ago.   The British sister of a good friend was here on holiday from England.  We were somehow talking about childhood ailments and I brought up my long-forgotten eczema.

"I had that, too."

And she described it all.  Step-by-step.  Itch-by-itch.  The nightly dipping into warm milk.  The ointment.

And the white gloves.

I was not alone.  It must be how you feel when you realize there are people in the world who are alcoholics or drug addicts.   A common bond.  Except we don't necessarily have the need to be anonymous.

But, truly, if you saw my hands back then, you really wouldn't want to know me.

Dinner last night:  Night noodles with beef from Chin Chin.

Classic TV Commercial of the Month - November 2026

 Remember when this commercial was a big deal.

Dinner last night:  BLT at Art's Deli.

November 2026 in the Local Lock-Up

 

And this is definitely extra creepy!

I knew that football helmet was on a little too tight.

Banana pudding fight!!!

And this is without botox.

Overdosing on Just For Men.

Fashion tip:  Mascara is not lipstick.

I can see the jury from here.

And also knee-deep in it.

Also available on e-Harmony.com.

And if you can't get a date with the one above...

He's in the bag.

This is somebody's grandma!!!

Dinner last night:   Had a big lunch so nothing really.

Morons of the Month - November 2026

 

It's two days after Election Day.   Look into this mirror.  What do you see?

Well, some of you have euphoric smiles on your face.   Good for you.

There are others out there who woke up on Wednesday despondent.  Sorry about that.  Life sucks.

Indeed, in that wide chasm of emotions, your smiles and your frowns are all united.  This is a country that can no longer sustain these wild moments of a pendulum.   America is supposed to be a nation moves a little to the right and then a little to the left...barely ten degrees of swaying.   But not to the degree that this past Election Day showed.   With such gyrations, the only certainty is when the whole mechanism breaks for good.

First off, mid-term elections are always deadly for those powers officially in charge.   Clinton in 1994.   In 2010, Obama got a beating that was almost as bad as what allegedly happened to Jesse Smollett.   

Shit happens.

And then what happens is also part of the routine.   The party who wins big tends to over reach and misinterpret what they have been told.   I mean, there's already one dopey shithead-elect who sent out a message of two words to Trump.

"Lawyer up."

As if that's the problem.   So, all you morons looking in the mirror don't realize that democracy shouldn't be exercised merely because there's a D or a R after one's name.   But, alas alack, so many people don't.   In my life, I have voted for both those letters.  And then frequently wish I had voted with an I.  

And there's much ado about how many blooming socialists got elected into office.  Is it time to vindicate the rants and ravings of Ocasio-Cortez who should only be posing one question on a daily basis.

"Can I get you another margarita?"

She has played her hand by focusing on promising young people free stuff as only a true socialist can.   These are students of the latest generation schooled by some of the worst and stupid educators ever to pick up blackboard chalk.   That's just one more problem you can see when you look into the mirror.

When the morons all around us proudly survey that glass mirror as they embrace their Ds and Rs, there is another letter that points out just how much they see with such a limited viewpoint.

It's U.

Dinner last night:  Sandwich.

Dinner last night:  Sandwich.

This Date in History - November 4

 

We fondly remember on her birthday one Doris Roberts from one of my favorite shows "Everybody Loves Raymond."   She holds the distinction of being the woman I saw in the audience most for movies playing all over Los Angeles.

1429:  JOAN OF ARC LIBERATES SAINT-PIERRE-LE-MOUTIER.

Who is he?   Or where is that?   

1501:  CATHERINE OF ARAGON, LATER HENRY VIII'S FIRST WIFE, MEETS ARTHUR TUDOR.  THEY WOULD LATER MARRY.

Hence, the House of?

 1677:  THE FUTURE MARY II OF ENGLAND MARRIES PRINCE WILLIAM OF ORANGE.   THEY WOULD LATER REIGN AS WILLIAM AND MARY.

Hence the college.

1783:  WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART'S SYMPHONY NO. 36 IS PERFORMED FOR THE FIRST TIME IN AUSTRIA.

Also the same number as the Mets' Jerry Koosman.  Just sayin'.

1791:  THE WESTERN CONFEDERACY OF AMERICAN INDIANS WINS A MAJOR VICTORY OVER THE US IN THE BATTLE OF THE WABASH.

Whoop whoop.

1847:  SIR JAMES YOUNG SIMPSON, A BRITISH PHYSICIAN, DISCOVERS THE ANAESTHETIC POWERS OF CHLOROFORM.

Okay, take a deep breathe.   100, 99, 98...

1864:  AMERICAN CIVIL WAR - CONFEDERATE TROOPS BOMBARD A UNION SUPPLY BASE AND DESTROY MILLIONS OF DOLLARS IN MATERIAL.

Back when they could fly their flag.

1879:  ACTOR WILL ROGERS IS BORN.

I never met a baby I didn't like.

1913:  ACTOR GIG YOUNG IS BORN.

Weird first name.   Maybe that's why he killed himself in 1978.

1916:  JOURNALIST WALTER CRONKITE IS BORN.

That's the way it is.

1918:  WORLD WAR I - AUSTRIA-HUNGARY SURRENDERS TO ITALY.

Who knew those two countries were hyphenated?

1918:  ACTOR ART CARNEY IS BORN.

Hello, ball.

1921:  THE ITALIAN UNKNOWN SOLDIER IS BURIED IN ROME.

Who izza dis?

1922:  IN EGYPT, THE ENTRANCE TO KING TUT'S TOMB IS FOUND.

That had to be a dusty mess by now.

1925:  ACTRESS DORIS ROBERTS IS BORN.

Here's a fact for you.   All the clothes she wore out in public are the same ones she wore on television as Marie Barone.

1937:  ACTRESS LORETTA SWIT IS BORN.

Hot Lips!

1942:  WORLD WAR II - DISOBEYING A DIRECT ORDER BY ADOLF HITLER, GENERAL ERWIN ROMMEL LEADS HIS FORCES ON A RETREAT.

Yeah, that's not going to end well.

1952:  THE UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT ESTABLISHES THE NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY.

I feel so much better knowing that.

1955:  BASEBALL PITCHER CY YOUNG DIES.

His ultimate award.

1960:  IN TANZANIA, DR. JANE GOODALL OBSERVES CHIMPANZEES CREATING TOOLS.

Monkey see, monkey do.

1961:  ACTOR RALPH MACCHIO IS BORN.

Wax on, wax off.

1970:  GENIE, A 123-YEAR-OLD FERAL CHILD IS FOUND, HAVING BEEN LOCKED IN HER BEDROOM FOR MOST OF HER LIFE.

That's some time out.

1973:  THE NETHERLANDS EXPERIENCES THE FIRST CAR-FREE SUNDAY CAUSED BY THE 1973 OIL CRISIS.

If only we could do this in LA.

1979:  IRAN HOSTAGE CRISIS - A MOB OF IRANIAN STUDENTS OVERRUN THE US EMBASSY IN TEHRAN AND TAKE 90 HOSTAGES, 53 OF THEM AMERICANS.

Hi, I'm Ted Koppel and this is Nightline.

1982:  ACTRESS DOMINIQUE DUNNE IS KILLED.

By her boyfriend.   She was the daughter of the famous writer who covered the OJ Simpson trial.

1995:  ISRAELI PRIME MINISTER YITZHAK RABIN IS ASSASSINATED.

In Israel, three shots were fired...

2005:  ACTRESS SHEREE NORTH DIES.

Speaking of big breasts.   Oh, we weren't?

2008:  BARACK OBAMA IS ELECTED PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES.

The most polarizing election ever until...well...you know.  Fifty years from now, when historians look at this moment with the proper perspective, he will be viewed as a failed President.  If America stills even exists.

2010:  BASEBALL MANAGER SPARKY ANDERSON DIES.

Sparky fizzles out.

2011:  JOURNALIST ANDY ROONEY DIES.

And you know what else bothers me?

2014:  ACTOR RICHARD SCHAAL DIES.

Former husband of Valerie Harper.  Now both in TV heaven.

2014:  CHEMIST S. DONALD STOOKEY DIES.

He invented Corning Ware.  What a genius.

Dinner last night:  Sandwich.