Monday Morning Video Laugh - July 13, 2026

 Summer hiccups.

Dinner last night:  Beef tri tip at the home of friends Kevin and Amir.

The Sunday Memory Drawer - When The Stars GetHot

 

Holy shit!

I'm looking at the internet and rubbing my eyes.  This could have been a photo that my father took with that damn Argus Technicolor camera of his.  Because I clearly remember this image on the Boardwalk at Atlantic City.  We went to see this show.

After seeing the "Jersey Boys" movie last weekend, it hit me like a ton of bricks.  I had actually seen Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons perform.  At the Steel Pier that you see above.  And at Freedomland in the Bronx.  I don't know how I had forgotten this, but the movie and the music jogged my memory.

My mom was a big fan and wouldn't miss seeing them.   And, of course, it was during the summer at Atlantic City that we actually went to see somebody perform live.

Back in the day, my family didn't venture out beyond the local movie theater when it came to entertainment.  Heck, I didn't see my first Broadway show until I was 15.  I didn't go to my first rock concert until I was in college.  The closest I had come to seeing stars in person was when they showed up for a ten minute walk-on during a movie promotional tour that landed at one of the Mount Vernon movie theaters.  That was as close as we ever got. 

I wonder now if this caused an issue between my parents.  My mom was a big fan of top 40 music.  She went out to buy the 45 rpm discs of all the big hits.  She sang along to them while she cleaned the house.

Music was a big deal to her.

My dad?  Meh.  

He would listen to nothing but WNEW AM 1130 on the car radio.   And then tune into the Polka Party on WFUV every Saturday night.  That was it.

So, another question that goes begging for an answer through the ages is whether my parents ever went to see a musical star perform in person.  I'll never know the answer.   My guess is...no.  Nein.  Nyet.

And this makes our summer vacations in Atlantic City even more important.  And it explains now to me why my mother always seemed to be focusing on who was appearing at the Steel Pier while we were there.

She'd call ahead weeks before to find out.  The entire vacation, usually accompanied by another family, was planned around the performance schedule at the Steel Pier.  It was tricky since stars only showed up there for two or three days at a time.  They would then move on.  If your vacation was ill-timed, you'd be stuck with some dog.   But, not with my mom handling the logistics.

And that's how we ended up seeing Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons on the Boardwalk at Atlantic City.  The place was jammed.  Me and the rest of the kids got dragged along.  My dad and the representative male figure of the other family?  My guess is that they passed the time in a nearby gin mill.

And here's yet another photo that my dad could have taken.  Because on a subsequent summer, Mom got to see Paul Anka at the same venue.  There was a meet-and-greet line.  I shook Paul Anka's hand.  I was probably eight years old.  I was already taller than him.

Lo and behold, there was one more summer and one more concert at the Steel Pier.  Mom called ahead.  Who was on the schedule for our week in the sun and the surf?

Lawrence Welk and the Lennon Sisters.

You would have thought my family hit the million dollar lotto.  The show that played on two...count 'em...two different TV sets in my house every Saturday.  And we would be seeing them live.

Naturally, I was bored out of my skull.

But, of all people to make an appearance for the show?  My father.  Lawrence Welk was sacred.  He was German.  He played polka music.  That was good enough for him.  Two degrees of separation for my dad.

We got an added bonus when the Freedomland amusement park opened just ten minutes from our house in Mount Vernon, New York.   It was a foolhardy attempt by some idiot to recreate Disneyland.  In. The. Bronx.  But, since there was no freakin' way that my family was going to get to Anaheim, California any time soon, we sucked in the swamp air of Freedomland on multiple summer nights. 

They had a musical band shell at Freedomland and suddenly the Steel Pier was at our doorsteps.  Mom regularly checked the newspapers to see who was appearing.  One night, we ventured out to see Frank Fontaine, who played "Crazy Guggenheim" on the old Jackie Gleason Show.

Okay, going by the picture, you know his act was an acquired taste.  But he was on the Gleason Show.  We watched the Gleason Show.  We went.  My father was a fan.  He showed up, too.

A month later, my mother was on the moon again.  Coming to Freedomland:  Frankie Valli and the Four Season.  I didn't understand the reason for a repeat viewing.  I questioned the outing.  Mom was not hearing a thing.

"Don't argue with me.  We're going."

Yes, ma'am.

One year later, guess who showed up at Freedomland.   The bubble king and those four sisters.   We're not, are we?

"Don't argue with me.  We're going."

This time, an appearance by Lawrence Welk ten minutes away from where we lived emptied out the whole house.   My grandmother and grandfather came along.  This was monumental.   The only places they really went were the supermarket, the bank, and the doctor.

It was odd seeing Grandma and Grandpa out amongst the living.  In an amusement park, no less.

I don't remember much about the performance that night, except I probably dozed off two or twenty times.  Indeed, the oldest generation was not impressed.

"He looks better on television."

Given that their TV set only got black and white, that didn't say much for Mr. Welk's complexion.

"Next time we stay home."

And, as far as I can remember, that was the last concert we ever went to as a family.

Dinner last night:  Pepperonata.

Classic Newsreel of the Month - July 2026

 How did that work out for you, Barry?

Dinner last night:  Broccoli and rice.

Hazy, Hot, and Stupid

 

Obviously, the photographer had told them this would be nothing but a head shot.

If this is a familyu portrait, I have some questions.

Little Petunia is being blocked by, well, a little petunia.

The way Dad is sitting behind Mom, you would think she would have a bigger smile on her face. 

This time, the dog is giving Mom a bath.

Future pole dancer.

Trying to fit a size 6 baby into a size 4 wagon.

"Mommy, this uncle is drunk now, too."

I need her phone number.

Surprisingly, the most awkward thing in this picture is the sofa.

Dinner last night:  Salisbury steak.

Enough May Be Enough

 

Okay, confession time.   The "Toy Story" franchise is the only Pixar genre I follow.  All the rest bored me to tears.

I have followed (seen) them all since the first one hit in the early 90s.  Surprisingly, the fifth just came out and I was caught off guard by the release. Did they really make a fifth edition?

Well, yes.   And I'm here to announce that it is time to put all the toys away for good.   Or sell them on eBay.  

Yep, I'm done.   They're done.  We're all done.

"Toy Story 5" is one convoluted mess that had the adults I was with totally confused by the plot.   How the heck can kids follow this stuff?   There's a well meaning concept here of traditional old toys being replaced by tech devices.   Yrp, that is happening.   But, the way this all unfolds in 2026. Elon Musk would have a tough time telling the story.   Plus Tom Hanks as Woody, always the best thing in any Toy Story film, is relegated to a reasonably small role.  But I doubt more would have helped.

We can stop at Five.   Sadly, the on-screen epilogue sets up the sixth installment.  

Yeesh.

LEN'S RATING:  One star.

Dinner last night:  Broccoli and rice.

This Date in History -July 8

 

Happy Heavenly birthday to Steve Lawrence, pictured here with his late wife, Eydie Gorme.  The Bossa Nova kills.

1099:  FIRST CRUSADE - FIFTEEN THOUSAND STARVING CHRISTIAN SOLDIERS MARCH IN A RELIGIOUS PROCESSION AROUND JERUSALEM AS ITS MUSLIM DEFENDERS LOOK ON.

And they're still marching.

1497:  VASCO DA GAMA SETS SAIL ON THE FIRST DIRECT EUROPEAN VOYAGE TO INDIA.

An awful long way to go for some curry.

1579:  OUR LADY OF KAZAN, A HOLY ICON OF THE RUSSIAN ORTHODOX CHURCH, IS DISCOVERED UNDERGROUND IN THE CITY OF KAZAN.

Elia or Lainie?

1730:  AN ESTIMATED MAGNITUDE 8.7 EARTHQUAKE CAUSES A TSUNAMI THAT DAMAGES CHILI'S COASTLINE.

Back in 1730, I would guess that about four people were impacted.

1775:  THE OLIVE BRANCH PETITION IS SIGNED BY THE CONTINENTAL CONGRESS OF THE THIRTEEN COLONIES OF NORTH AMERICA.

With or without pimentos?

1853:  US COMMODORE MATTHEW PERRY ARRIVES IN EDO BAY WITH A TREATY REQUESTING TRADE.

So, when Perry finally got on Friends, he was really, really, really old.

1874:  THE MOUNTIES BEGIN THEIR MARCH WEST.

Sgt. Preston leading the way.

1876:  WHITE SUPREMACISTS KILL FIVE BLACK REPUBLICANS IN SOUTH CAROLINA.

And the note I take from this?   Five dead Black Republicans.

1889:  THE FIRST ISSUE OF THE WALL STREET JOURNAL IS PUBLISHED.

Where are the funny pages?

1892:  ST JOHN'S, NEWFOUNDLAND, CANADA IS DEVASTATED IN THE GREAT FIRE OF 1892.

And I guess I am too.  Devastated, I mean.

1898:  THE DEATH OF CRIME BOSS SOAPY SMITH, WHO IS KILLED IN AN ALASKAN SHOOTOUT.

The Sopranos Go to Juneau.

1908:  GOVERNOR NELSON ROCKEFELLER IS BORN.

Best joke I ever heard about him.   When he wakes up in the morning, he feels happy.  And then Happy feels him.

1917:  ACTRESS FAYE EMERSON IS BORN.

A name I've heard countless times.   I couldn't place her if I fell over her.

1918:  ACTOR CRAIG STEVENS IS BORN.

Peter Gunn!

1930:  SINGER JERRY VALE IS BORN.

My writing partner once saw him in the super market, looking for his name in the tabloids.

1932:  THE DOW JONES INDUSTRIAL AVERAGE REACHES ITS LOWEST LEVEL OF THE GREAT DEPRESSION.

For those who still haven't jumped out of their window...

1934:  ACTOR MARTY FELDMAN IS BORN.

It's Eye-gor.

1935:  SINGER STEVE LAWRENCE IS BORN.

Go away, little boy.

1947:  REPORTS ARE BROADCAST THAT A UFO CRASH LANDED IN ROSWELL, NEW MEXICO.

Hence, all the jokes about Roswell ever since.

1948:  THE UNITED STATES AIR FORCE ACCEPTS ITS FIRST FEMALE RECRUITS.

Opening the Mile High Club....

1949:  CHEF WOLFGANG PUCK IS BORN.

Overrated.

1958:  ACTOR KEVIN BACON IS BORN.

If you share this birthday, you have one degree of separation.

1960:  FRANCIS GARY POWERS IS CHARGED WITH ESPIONAGE RESULTING FROM HIS FLIGHT OVER THE SOVIET UNION.

Vat you looking at, Yankee.

1968:  THE CHRYSLER WILDCAT STRIKE BEGINS IN DETROIT.

Is that their new model?   A Wildcat.

1982:  ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT AGAINST IRAQI PRESIDENT SADDAM HUSSEIN.

Too bad it didn't take.

1990:  ACTOR HOWARD DUFF DIES.

Making Ida Lupino an ex-wife/widow.

1991:  ACTOR JAMES FRANCISCUS DIES.

Not a good last name if you lisp.

1994:  ACTOR DICK SARGENT DIES.

The second and lesser Darrin Stevens.

1994:  KIM JONG-IL BEGINS TO ASSUME SUPREME LEADERSHIP OF NORTH KOREA UPON THE DEATH OF HIS FATHER.

So I guess Dad was Il, too.

2006:  ACTRESS JUNE ALLYSON DIES.

Bladder no longer full.

2011:  FORMER FIRST LADY BETTY FORD DIES.

She didn't last much longer after her husband.

2012:  ACTOR ERNEST BORGNINE DIES.

What are you going to do now, Marty?

2018:  ACTOR TAB HUNTER DIES.

I always preferred Diet Coke.

2022:  ACTOR LARRY STORCH DIES.

RIP Troop.

2022:  ACTOR TONY SIRICO DIES.

The wonderful Paulie Walnuts on "The Sopranos."

YEAR NOT SPECIFIED:  A HAPPY, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO DEAR FRIEND, THE BIBSTER.

A regular reader to this Wednesday frivolity.  I couldn't enjoy this life without you.

Dinner last night:  Beef fried rice.

Last Week

Some of you are in the know. But, for those who are not, I'll update the annals of social media and this blog to cover the mass circulation. And forgive the highlighting of prose. I am toggling through several portals.

Last Thursday, I was at the gym with my trainer for the usual exercise regimen.

By Saturday night, I had a Ralph Kramden stomach and couldn't manage a simple flight of stairs.

By 330PM Monday, I was in the St. John's-Santa Monica version of "The Pitt" and hearing the three words "congestive heart failure." What the hell.

By Monday night, I was in ICU where they literally "can see you" at all times.

I was introduced to my new best friend, electrocardiologist Dr. Saarik Gupta, who determined I suddenly had an atrial flutter, which is the bastard second cousin of the more popular "a fib." This would necessitate a procedure that effectively rewires the heart and returns it to normal sinus rhythm as opposed to the Monday meter readings which made my heart resemble the 2008 stock market crash. Essentially a shock to the ticker.

And that's what Dr. Gupta and his team did Tuesday morning from 921 AM to 932 AM. It takes longer to get your order from In N Out Burger.

By Thursday night at 730PM, I was listening to the Beach Boys at the Hollywood Bowl.

Oh, there are ramifications. I've got a slew of pills to take every morning and evening. But no other restrictions have been cast for my trainer, my PT, and my future water coach. I said to Dr. Gupta that the big winner is the pharmacy at Ralph's. He corrected me. "No, the big winner is you." Nobody knows yet what triggered this medical soap but he, along with my phenomenal and super human internist Dr. Jonathan Weaver, will figure this out.

Just as happened a few months ago with "The Grand Slam of Hernias," I am reminded of the wonderment of my friends that range from sea to shining sea. I am honored to have that particular contact list in my phone. But, this week I was more mesmerized and astounded again by the staff at St. John's, most notably the folks in the ICU and ER. I salute nurses Amanda, Amy, Eva, and Gerardo as well as anybody else who answered my buzzer. They are all Doctor Robbys in my book.

One more time, our bodies are gifted with amazing alarm systems. Always make sure yours are turned on. Listen to them.

Dinner last night: Grilled sausage.