This Date in History - March 4

 

Happy birthday to Paula Prentiss.   She starred in "He and She."   Guess which part she played?

51: NERO, LATER TO BECOME ROMAN EMPEROR, IS GIVEN THE TITLE PRINCEPS IUVENTUTUS...OR HEAD OF THE YOUTH.

 I guess there's a reason why they don't teach Latin in schools any more.

932:  TRANSLATION OF THE RELICS OF MARTYR WENCESLAUS I, DUKE OF BOHEMIA, PRINCE OF THE CZECHS.

Good King of the Christmas song.

1152:  FREDERICK I BARBAROSSA IS ELECTED KING OF THE GERMANS.

Barbarossa?   Wasn't that a movie with Jane Fonda?

1351:  RAMATHIBODI BECOMES KING OF SIAM.

Yul Brynner could never pronounce that, which is why he was simply the "King."

1386:  WTADYSLAW II JAGIETTO IS CROWNED KING OF POLAND.

It's Crazy Name Day on the blog.

1461:  THE WAR OF THE ROSES IN ENGLAND.

Wasn't this a movie with Michael Douglas and Kathleen Turner?

1493:  EXPLORER CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS ARRIVES BACK IN LISBON, PORTUGAL, ABOARD HIS SHIP NINA FROM HIS VOYAGE TO THE BAHAMAS AND THE CARIBBEAN.

Going all the places we later went on the Love Boat.

1681:  CHARLES II GRANTS A LAND CHARTER TO WILLIAM PENN FOR THE AREA THAT WILL LATER BECOME PENNSYLVANIA.  

As opposed to a lead No. 2 pennsyl.

1789:  IN NEW YORK CITY, THE FIRST CONGRESS OF THE US MEETS, PUTTING THE US CONSTITUTION INTO EFFECT.  THE BILL OF RIGHTS IS WRITTEN AND PROPOSED TO CONGRESS.

Back when we were civilized and actually wanted to follow a constitution.

1791:  VERMONT IS ADMITTED TO THE US AT THE 14TH STATE.

Saps.

1837:  THE CITY OF CHICAGO IS INCORPORATED.

Vote early, vote often.

1861:  THE FIRST NATIONAL FLAG OF THE CONFEDERATE STATES OF AMERICA IS ADOPTED.

National?   What is it?   About 10 states???

1865:  THE THIRD NATIONAL FLAG OF THE CONFEDERATE STATES OF AMERICA.

Oh, make up your mind!

1888:  FOOTBALL STARE KNUTE ROCKNE IS BORN.

What were his parents thinking with that name?

1909:  US PRESIDENT WILLIAM TAFT USES A SAXBE FIX, A MECHANISM TO AVOID THE RESTRICTION OF THE US CONSTITUTION'S INELIGIBILITY CLAUSE.

History majors, please call to explain.

1913:  THE US DEPARTMENT OF LABOR IS FORMED.

I'm dying to know who got the very first unemployment check.

1925:  COMPOSER PAUL MAURIAT IS BORN.

Love is blue.  Unless you're color blind.

1933:  FRANCES PERKINS BECOMES US SECRETARY OF LABOR, THE FIRST FEMALE MEMBER OF THE US CABINET.

Even here, women can't escape labor.

1938:  ACTRESS PAULA PRENTISS IS BORN.

My writing partner met her and husband Dick Benjamin in a super market and they had a long talk about spices.

1943:  DURING WORLD WAR II, THE BATTLE OF THE BISMARCK SEA ENDS.

The Bismarck is sunk?

1945:  FINLAND DECLARES WAR ON NAZI GERMANY.

What took them so long?

1949:  ACTRESS CARROLL BAKER IS BORN.

I don't know anybody who met her in a super market.

1962:  A CALEDONIAN AIRWAYS FLIGHTS CRASHES ON TAKE-OFF FROM CAMEROON, KILLING 111.

And losing at least 111 suitcases.

1966:  A CANADIAN PACIFIC AIRLINES FLIGHT EXPLODES ON LANDING TOKYO, KILLING 64 PEOPLE.

And losing at least 64...never mind.

1970:  FRENCH SUBMARINE EURYDICE EXPLODES UNDERWATER.

So, if a submarine explodes underwater, does anybody hear it?

1974:  PEOPLE MAGAZINE IS PUBLISHED FOR THE FIRST TIME.

And now we all have something to read on the toilet.

1985:  THE FOOD AND DRUG ADMINISTRATION APPROVES A BLOOD TEST FOR AIDS INFECTION, USED SINCE THEN FOR SCREENING ALL BLOOD DONATIONS IN THE US.

Also a great day to own stock in white surgical gloves.

1994:  ACTOR JOHN CANDY DIES.

Killed perhaps by a dentist.

1996:  COMEDIAN MINNIE PEARL DIES.

Howdy?   Bye!

2001:  A MASSIVE CAR BOMB EXPLODES IN FRONT OF THE BBC IN LONDON.   THE ATTACK WAS ATTRIBUTED TO THE REAL IRA.

You mean there was an imitation IRA?

2001:  POLITICIAN HAROLD STASSEN DIES.

Known as a big loser in elections, he's really out of the running now.

2016:  TENNIS BROADCASTER BUD COLLINS DIES.

Net!

2019:  ACTOR LUKE PERRY DIES.

Does Heaven have a zip code?

Dinner last night:  Salisbury steak.

Moron of the Month - March 2026

 

If it was up to me, there should be an appearance element thrown into every US election.   For instance, somebody like Katie Porter, a Congresswoman from somewhere in the bowels of California, wouldn't stand a chance.   I mean, she rates high on the fat and dumpy barometer.

But, frankly, this slob wouldn't have a chance even if she were a runway model.   On sheer brain power alone, Katie is disqualified.

You know, this monthly moron feature really could be turned over to nominating the newest idiotic Democrat to make an appearance.  With the upcoming gubernatorial election in California and the future 2028 Presidential race, there will be no shortage of morons kissing babies at the mall.  There will be the raising of one ugly head after another.

And that's where Katie Porter comes in.   One of those clowns educated by the most liberal colleges in the country, Katie doesn't have an original thought in her head.   Look at some of her political stances on-line.   Every word out of her mouth comes straight from the Democratic Party.   She must get a daily download.  There is nothing original or even remotely unique with her political stance.

And that's why she is looking to replace Gavin Newscum as Governor of California as yet another stupid and worthless civic leader.   Dopey Gavin has his eye on the White House, while Katie has her eye on Sacramento...and probably a bucket of KFC.  Being able to recite from the liberal playbook doesn't make you a leader.

Indeed, if you do some research on Katie, you will see she is hardly leadership quality.   She allegedly goes through staffers like onion rings at In N'Out Burger.  Anger management incidents follow her daily.   She supposedly poured a pot of boiling potatoes over her first husband's head.  There's already a restraining order between her and the latest boyfriend.

But this is all trivial stuff, right?   Because Katie Porter knows how to recite political viewpoints as if Senor Wences had his arm up her back.  Is there no end to the number of useless politicians out there?   

Boy, oh, boy, do we throw our votes in the toilet every November?   Morons electing morons.   Katie Porter is an idiot.   But somebody will vote for her.

Dinner last night:  Leftover General Tso's chicken.

Monday Morning Video Laugh - March 2, 2026

It's my blog anniversary and I am beginning Year 20 this month.  As is the habit in the past, let's recall some of the funnier video laughs.  And let's swing into action.

Dinner last night:  Chicken cacciatore at Osteria Vera.

The Sunday Memory Drawer - Buried Memories

 

Located on a quiet hill in the even quieter hamlet of Hartsdale, New York, Ferncliff Cemetery is the eternal home of lots of famous people. Songwriter Harold Arlen, James Baldwin, ice cream meglomaniac Tom Carvel, Joan Crawford, Basil Rathbone, Toots Shor, Ed Sullivan and his orchestra leader Ray Bloch, director Preston Sturges, Moss Hart and his wife Kitty Carlisle Hart, renowned troublemaker Malcolm X, Oscar Hammerstein, Moms Mabley, and Judy Garland. Beatle John Lennon was cremated there. The list goes on and on and on. The place includes also a whole passel of my relatives. And the relatives of several good friends of mine.

And my parents.

Indeed, my mom would be happy to know that her top floor studio apartment/niche was once a mere three dozen footsteps away from Miss Garland, whom I would have allegedly be named after. If I, of course, was a girl. Not that gender ever made a difference to Judy. Meanwhile, Judy's family has since moved her casket to Los Angeles.  But, I digress...

Believe it or not, cemeteries were a prime destination for Sunday drives, especially with my grandparents.

"Come on, let's go see Uncle Fritz."

The eight-year-old comedian in me could not resist the witty retort.

"Yeah, but he can't see you." 

Ha ha. My grandmother didn't find the funny in funny.

"Don't be fresh."

Almost as punishment, I was loaded into the car along with a whole bunch of gardening tools and off we went to Tombstone Land. I never understood why my grandmother felt the need to garden some graves, except perhaps we had some family members who were too damn cheap to pay for the perpetual care offered by the cemetery. My grandmother would survey the lawn on top of some relative and if she found it a little too weedy, there would be the beckoning call to my grandfather.

”Pop, bring me the shears!”

And then they would spend an hour manicuring the grounds while I played hopscotch on the bronze nameplates all around me. And then get scolded for that.

”Don’t walk on them. That’s where their head is.”

Huh?

Now, in our family, there were two cemeteries of choice. The old and staid Woodlawn Cemetery in the Bronx. Most of the older folks wound up there. Cousins who had died of sinus infections in the pre-antibiotic days of the 30s. One young nephew who had accidentally stabbed himself to death while slicing some pork chops in the butcher shop. And now, there in Woodlawn, “reside” my grandparents. In a plot they selected twenty to thirty years before they died. By the fence so they could watch all the cars drive by on Webster Avenue. That was the reason I was given. I kid you not. And, I digress again…

The younger relatives were all found in the more modern and up-and-coming Ferncliff up in the suburbs. And that place always managed to give me the creeps. Invariably, I would get sent into the mausoleum to get some water for vases. And the eerie, somber music that was piped into that joint made my trips into them as time-condensed as possible. I walked through there wearing imaginary blinders. If you looked at any of the crypts on the left or the right, you would find decorated to look like real living rooms with kids’ toys on the floor. Audible scream!

There was one grave that my father scared the shit out of me with. It seems some real jerk had a bust made of his head. When he was buried, the bust was placed under the nameplate and you could lift it up to look down. One day, my father said, “come on and say hello to Uncle Charlie.” Not knowing the horror to come and being a dumb kid, I did so. Uncle Charlie looking up from his resting place. 

Audible scream all over again! Nightmares for a week. Thanks, Dad.

Ironically, I’d unwittingly get back at him for this injustice. Years later, the day after he passed away, I went through the robotic process of “making arrangements.” There never was a thought in my mind that his eternal resting place would be at Ferncliff. Besides, all the good spots by the fence at Woodlawn had already been taken. 

Anyway, as if I was playing the bonus round on Supermarket Sweep, I blew through Ferncliff and got everything settled in the space of fifteen minutes. Cement vault, hole in the ground, lettering and design for the plaque, timing for a graveside service. Because I don’t believe in the ritual, there would be no funeral parlor viewing. It would be just like the Wild West. 12 Noon at Boot Hill. Be there or be square. And your attendance would be by invitation only. I had it all solved in a flash.

The day before the burial, I got a call from one of my dad’s cronies who had made my A List of invitees.

”So, Len, what time is the cremation tomorrow?”

Huh???? I told the guy there would be a burial.

”But your father always told me he wanted to be cremated.”

I thought about the cement vault. Already invoiced. The grave. Already dug. The in-ground plaque. Perhaps being engraved as we spoke. I called my mother and asked if she had ever heard that request. Knowing my parent’s virtual disregard for any timely communication, I was not surprised that she had not. And naturally this was complete breaking news for me.

So, indeed, in death, there would be one last time where I screwed up something for Dad. And, in a way, I was getting back at it for the fright show that had been Uncle Charlie. But, I also thought that my father might have enjoyed the faux pas that only I could have constructed.

On the day of the burial, we stood in the street near the gravesite and waited for the hearse to show up. We saw it enter the gate and it immediately made a hard right turn. Into the section where all the Black people were buried. Most of us couldn’t help but giggle. Suddenly, the hearse slammed on its brakes and started to back up. We imagined that the drivers had been startled by a rap on the window in the back of the hearse. And perhaps a faint voice from the beyond.

”What are you idiots doing? You can’t put me here with all those coloreds.”

When I make my annual visit to Ferncliff now, I survey all the nameplates around my dad and realize that his pain is continuing. Every name is Chinese.

Sorry again.

Dinner last night:   General Tso's chicken.

Classic Movie Trailer of the Month - February 2026

 Fifty years old this month.   And, yes, I'm talking to you.

Dinner last night:  Cheese and crackers.

Photos Provide Such Memories

 

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:  Chili from my freezer.

Hollywood Then and Now - February 2026

 Back when Hollywood was brand spanking new in the Roaring Twenties and Thirties of the last century, the entire growing city was one big sound stage for the movie making world.   It was very easy to go and shoot whenever they found a great location.

A few years back, I visited one such memorable spot nestled into a quiet neighborhood in Silver Lake.

If you are fans of Laurel and Hardy, you might remember their Academy Award winning short "The Music Box."  Stan and Ollie lugging a piano up a large flight of stairs.

This might be one of the funniest Laurel and Hardy adventures ever.

Well, the internet allowed for me to search where these steps are and Hollywood has already turned the spot into a shrine.

With a street sign.

And a plaque.

But nothing is official until I visited the steps.   Notice I only went up one flight.  My knees, even then.

Yep, Hollywood's back lot just might have been your backyard.

Dinner last night:  Leftover chicken tenders.