Len's Recipe of the Month - June 2024

 

Here we go again, folks.   Before it gets too hot to cook.

My culinary capabilities have expanded one more time thanks to Valerie Bertinelli.   She did this recipe on her show a while back and I was intrigued enough to attempt it.   

Boy, I am glad I did.   Delicious!!

It's chicken with prunes and olives.   Yes, you heard right.   Prunes and olives.   I had one friend who immediately sneered at the inclusion of prunes.   Sure, there is a stigma to that word.   But, somehow, all these ingredients come together as a symphony of flavors.   And, yes, prunes are included.   Well, said person is not invited to dinner when I am serving this tasty dish, which is also known as Chicken Marbella.

Here's how you get started.  Keep in mind that you have to marinade much of the ingredients overnight in your fridge.   

First off, get yourself a large Ziploc bag.   Or I used a Tupperware bowl with a cover.   Whatever you're using, place in it the following:

2 to 3 pounds of chicken pieces with the bone in.   Valerie used chicken breasts. I opted for thighs.   Go with your heart.

2/3 cup of really good EVO.

2/3 cup of red wine vinegar.

2 cups of pitted prunes.   I used diced prunes.   Worked fine.

1/4 cup capers with a bit of the brine from the jar.

2 tablespoons dried oregano.

5 cloves of minced or finely chopped garlic.

2 bay leaves.   I didn't have any.  I lived.

20 garlic-stuffed olives.   That should be one whole jar.

Kosher salt and pepper.

Seal it up and stick away in the refrigerator for several hours.   Go overnight if you can.   The longer, the better.

On the next day, pull the chicken out of the marinade and set it aside for a moment.   Take a 9 x 13 inch baking dish sprayed with a little olive oil and pour the marinade into the bottom of the pan.  Overnight, this mixture may have congealed a little.   No worries.   Just spoon it in and spread it around.

Preheat your oven at 375 degrees.

Take the chicken pieces and lay it over the marinade.  Now take about 1/4 cup of brown sugar and sprinkle it over the chicken evenly.   Wait till you taste the sweet crispness that results.   

Take a 1/2 cup of white wine and pour it around the chicken.   Put it all in the oven and, since you already opened the vino, you might as pour yourself a glass.  Or two.   

Bake this all at the aforementioned temperature for about an hour to an hour and twenty minutes.   Open the oven a few times to keep the juice mixing around.

The end result will be a confluence of flavors you have never experienced.  No other ingredient overrides the others.   

You're welcome.

Now finish the bottle of white wine.

Dinner last night:  Sesame chicken tenders.

Monday Morning Video Laugh - June 24, 2024

 A wedding classic!

Dinner last night:  Wine and cheese at the Hollywood Bowl.

The Sunday Memory Drawer - Who Wants the Ice-a Cream?

 

Well, the season is here, so let's remember that centerpiece of any warm summer's evening. 

Ice cream.

In this vintage photo from the Mount Vernon Daily Argus newspaper, you'll see not me, but the kid brothers of my neighborhood best pal, Leo.  They are cashing in on a promotion at our favorite Carvel stand, which was located at the corner of 14th Avenue and First Street.  Free ice cream when it rained.

Examining this snapshot a bit more closely, note the attire on the two youngsters.  This ain't summer.  More likely a blustery day in March.  Nevertheless, it obviously had rained so cones were ready to be made.

Still, ice cream at the end of a long summer's day of play was the cherry on top of whatever sundae you were savoring.  In our neighborhood, we had several sources for these treats.

The Carvel stand above is now a Jamaican super market as our beloved neighborhood has literally and figuratively gone to pot.  But, back in the day, this is where you went for a "bigger" ice cream experience.  Made-to-order custard oozing out of the machine into your cone or plastic dish.  Get it covered with that special chocolate syrup and it would harden into a "Brown Bonnet."  Dump it into a boat-like container with a couple of bananas and you had your "Barge."  Cleopatra may have loved hers.  These usually made me sick.  The real ending of this snack on a long summer's day would be in a vomit flow into your toilet.

Now, this Carvel was located right next to "our stadium."  A vacant lot which was the location of our nightly baseball game with ground rules that defied logic.  Hit the sidewalk and you got a homerun.  Hit it further and you were out.  Carvel was in foul territory down the left field line.  Whoever went to retrieve that ball usually came back with a milk shake.  Okay, time out for refreshments.

My dad liked to frequent this Carvel when he was on vacation.  A hot fudge sundae with butter pecan ice cream was always his favorite.  Sometimes, Grandma would give me money.  All she wanted was a dish of vanilla, but I could buy something for myself, too.  Those were the kinds of errands that had pay-offs for an eight-year-old.

My mother?  She'd bring me to the stand for a treat, but rarely got anything for herself.  But, there was one day where Mom had another experience at our local Carvel.

When we arrived at the same window in the photo above, there was a big button set up on the counter.  Inside, there was a woman pretending to be a waitress/robot.  The sign said, "Press the button and the robot will serve you."

Huh, I thought?

My mom was a bit more realistic.

"What is this??  Candid Camera??"

The lady robot broke down into laughter.  My mother had outed them.  It sure was Candid Camera.  And that ended any chance we had to be laughed at on a Sunday night by Allen Funt.

Shortly thereafter, the Carvel signage came down and up went a new name for this place.

"La Creme."

Huh?

It was still the same ice cream stand, but now did not have the Carvel backing.  As I would later figure out years later when I did actually work for the Carvel Corporation, I'm guessing that, suddenly, the owners of this joint had balked at paying the price to be a "participating dealer."  Screw that, they probably said.  And, miraculously and almost mystically, they became French.

On really hot days, you needed that frozen feeling at multiple times of the day.  Leo and the rest of us would troop on down to Charlie's Delicatessen for what was then called a "Freez Pop."  It was nothing more than a clear plastic tube filled with flavored ice shavings.  You got your choice of cherry, lemon, blueberry, or orange.  Well, you didn't order them that way.  You identified your choice by color, instead.

The problem that this junk presented was that they were often re-frozen several times over whenever Charlie shut down his freezer.  The more they thawed and then were re-frozen, the more the flavor got crummy.  You'd suck the ice shavings into your mouth and promptly spit them into the gutter.  Or at whoever was pissing you off at the moment.

For a brief time, we had near us some establishment called "Luigi's Italian Ices."  I doubt the guy who ran it was either named Luigi or Italian.  Nevertheless, we all got into this concoction for a while.  The only problem was that Luigi's was located across First Street, a major thoroughfare of traffic.  If you really wanted that freakin' lemon ice, you had to dodge oncoming cars to get it.

I've written before here about our strange-o neighborhood guy named Louis.  Well, one day, his kid sister Toni Ann was making a Luigi's run and the traffic won that battle.  There is something completely unsettling for a nine-year-old when you hear screeching breaks in the distance and then...impact. 

Toni Ann was spread out all over First Street in a pool of blood and cherry ice.  She wound up in a coma for several weeks and then a wheelchair for the rest of whatever her days were.   On that afternoon, her life continued but effectively ended.

Nobody really bothered with Luigi's Italian Ices after that.

Dinner last night:  Orange chicken and lo mein.

Classic Movie Trailer of the Month - June 2024

 Forty years old this month??  And karate chopping today with Cobra Kai.

Dinner last night:  The pregame buffet at the Dodger Stadium Club.

Your Weekend Movie Guide for June 2024

 

If you were paying attention, you know I didn't do this monthly feature last month.  Primarily because there was nothing really to guide you to.   But, perhaps, things have gotten better with the oncoming summer releases.   If they exist at all.   Now, "Jaws" was the epitome of the perfect summer film.

You remember the drill here?   I'll peruse the movie theaters and give you my knee-jerk gut reaction to what's out there.  Hopefully, we'll need a bigger boat...I mean, theater.

Inside Out 2:  Hated the first one, so...you guess.

Bad Boys - Ride or Die:  Will Smith stars and there better be a cameo by Chris Rock.

The Garfield Movie:  I'm allergic.

If:  More animation but I can't for the life of me tell you what it is about.

The Watchers:   That M. Night guy from "The Sixth Sense" directs a suspense yarn about somebody trapped in the woods of Ireland.  "I see drunken Irish people."

Furiosa - A Mad Max Saga:   You mean there were others?

Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes:   These movies were better when it was make-up and not computer generated.

Treasure:  Starring Lena Dunham.   So...see ya!

Tuesday:  Julia Louis-Dreyfuss meets the character of Death as a talking bird.  Yada yada yada.

Challengers:  I hear terrible things about this romantic comedy set on a tennis court.   30-Not Love.

Humanist Vampire Seeking Consenting Suicidal Person:   Now that's an inviting personal ad.

The Bikeriders;  Keep pedaling.

The Exorcism:  Russell Crowe as an actor on a possessed movie set.   Don't eat anything green on the craft services table.

Thelma:  June Squibb and, in his last role, Richard Roundtree go after people who scam senior citizens on the phone.

Kinds of Kindness:  Emma Stone teams up again with her "Poor Things" director.  And who's the idiot who advocated this?

Dinner last night:  Grilled gruyere cheese sandwich with bacon.

St. Elmo's Ashes

 

Sometimes I amaze my self by the documentaries I will be drawn to.   At the same time, I'm equally amazed by how some documentaries even get made.

That would be the case on both counts of the new doc "Brats" which you can find...if you dare...on Hulu.  Yes, I watched it and I still don't know why.   Sure, I watched all those "brat pack" movies in the 80s.  Was I a huge fan?  Not really.  I'm guessing I went to see them just to keep up with the crowd.   I was the target demo at the time.

So now, former "brat packer" Andrew McCarthy has filmed a documentary largely because he's still offended by the term "brat pack" if that makes any sense at all.   Apparently, the phrase was coined by a New York magazine writer in 1985.   McCarthy still finds it demeaning and now the pity party starts all over again.

McCarthy takes his camera and tracks down his former co-stars to see if they're all equally pissed.   Most are smart and have moved on.  But not Andrew.   He loves a good whine.

That, my readers, is the summation of 93 minutes of "Brats." By the end of the first 15 minutes, you want to punch the director in the face.  You continue to watch and see if he ever grows a pair.  PS, he doesn't.

Now if you want to take some time and see what Demi Moore and Ally Sheedy look like today, this is the movie for you.  Other than that, go rewind the VHS you have of "Pretty in Pink."

LEN'S RATING:  One-and-a-half stars.

Dinner last night:  Salisbury steak.

This Date in History - June 19

 

Happy birthday, Kathleen Turner.  You were really hot back in the day.  Meanwhile, somebody explain to me why today is a national holiday.

1269:  KING LUIS IX OF FRANCE ORDERS ALL JEWS FOUND IN PUBLIC WITHOUT AN IDENTIFYING YELLOW BADGE TO BE FINED TEN LIVRES OF SILVER.

That fine was a lot easier to take than the one Hitler invented centuries later.

1586:  ENGLISH COLONISTS LEAVE ROANOKE ISLAND, AFTER FAILING TO ESTABLISH ENGLAND'S FIRST PERMANENT SETTLEMENT IN NORTH AMERICA.

You snooze, you lose.  Here comes the Mayflower.

1770:  EMANUEL SWEDENBORG REPORTS THE COMPLETION OF THE SECOND COMING OF CHRIST IN HIS WORK TRUE CHRISTIAN RELIGION.

Still waiting.

1816:  BATTLE OF SEVEN OAKS BETWEEN NORTH WEST COMPANY AND HUDSON'S BAY COMPANY.

One of those historical facts that means absolutely nothing to me.

1846:  THE FIRST OFFICIALLY RECORDED, ORGANIZED BASEBALL GAME IS PLAYED IN HOBOKEN.  THE NEW YORK BASEBALL CLUB BEATS THE KNICKERBOCKERS, 23-1.  

Should have taken the Knickerbockers with 23 points.

1862:  THE US CONGRESS PROHIBITS SLAVERY IN UNITED STATES TERRITORIES, NULLIFYING DRED SCOTT VS. SANDFORD.

And Son?

1865:  OVER TWO YEARS AFTER THE EMANCIPATION PROCLAMATION, SLAVES IN GALVESTON, TEXAS ARE FINALLY INFORMED OF THEIR FREEDOM.

Good news travels slowly.

1896:  SOCIALITE WALLIS SIMPSON IS BORN.

Wife of Edward VIII, grandmother of Homer I.

1897:  ACTOR MOE HOWARD IS BORN.

Why, I oughta.....

1902:  BAND LEADER GUY LOMBARDO IS BORN.

Happy New Birth.

1903:  BASEBALL STAR LOU GEHRIG IS BORN.

Guten tag.

1910:  THE FIRST FATHER'S DAY IS CELEBRATED IN SPOKANE, WASHINGTON.

Who knew that Spokane was such a trendsetter?

1914:  MUSICIAN LESTER FLATT IS BORN.

Come and listen to a story...

1915:  ACTOR PAT BUTTRAM IS BORN.

Mr. Haney from "Green Acres."!!

1919:  FILM CRITIC PAULINE KAEL IS BORN.

I wonder if she liked this.

1921:  ACTOR LOUIS JOURDAN IS BORN.

And he subsequently died.  This is not a new phenomenon, folks.

1928:  ACTRESS NANCY MARCHAND IS BORN.

What an acting range.  The stately Mrs. Pynchon on "Lou Grant" and then the grizzled Livia on "The Sopranos."

1932:  ACTRESS PIER ANGELI IS BORN.

Later screwed by James Dean....and then really screwed by Vic Damone.

1934:  THE FEDERAL COMMUNICATIONS COMMISSION IS STARTED.

And those seven dirty words are?

1937:  AUTHOR J.M. BARRIE DIES.

From Never Never Land to Really Never Never Land.

1953:  JULIUS AND ETHEL ROSENBERG ARE EXECUTED AT SING SING.

Bye, spy.

1954:  ACTRESS KATHLEEN TURNER IS BORN.

Now she's ice cold.  And just plain fat.

1961:  KUWAIT DECLARES  INDEPENDENCE FROM THE UNITED KINGDOM.

Yet another historical fact that means absolutely nothing to me.

1964:  THE CIVIL RIGHTS ACT OF 1964 IS APPROVED AFTER SURVIVING AN 83-DAY SENATE FILIBUSTER.

Why do I think the filibuster was started by some Southern Democrat?

1966:  ACTOR ED WYNN DIES.

Not laughing any more.

1975:  MOBSTER SAM GIANCANA DIES.

Dies?  Ha.

1978:  GARFIELD THE COMIC STRIP MAKES ITS DEBUT.

The only thing on the funny pages that I'm allergic to.

1982:  THE BODY OF GOD'S BANKER, ROBERTO CALVI, IS FOUND HANGING IN LONDON.

Forcing God to go to the ATM himself.

1986:  BASKETBALL PLAYER LEN BIAS DIES.

Fifth technical.

1990:  THE COMMUNIST PART OF THE RUSSIAN SOVIET FEDERATIVE SOCIALIST REPUBLIC IS FOUND IN MOSCOW.

Calling the Marketing department for suggestions on a shorter name.

1991:  ACTRESS JEAN ARTHUR DIES.

Shane didn't come back.   Neither will she.

1998:  ACTOR ATTICUS SHAFFER IS BORN.

The wonderful young actor who played Brick on "The Middle."

2009:  MASS RIOTS INVOLVING 10,000 PEOPLE AND 10,000 POLICE OFFICERS BREAK OUT IN SHISHOU, CHINA.

Well, at least, the sides are even.

2010:  BASKETBALL PLAYER MANUTE BOL DIES.

A tough day to be tall.

2016:  ACTOR ANTON YELCHIN OF "STAR TREK"  DIES.

He ran himself over with his own car.  I kid you not.

2017:  AMERICAN STUDENT OTTO WARMBIER DIES AFTER BEING HELD CAPTIVE BY NORTH KOREA.

Why would anybody want to go there in the first place??

2018:  GORILLA AND USER OF AMERICAN SIGN LANGUAGE KOKO DIES.

Leaving a bunch of deaf gorillas shit out of luck.

Dinner last night:  Steak salad.

Merrily We Roll Along and Along and Along

 

The late Stephen Sondheim is usually a big hit or a big miss with me.   His legendary "Company" remains one of my favorite musical comedies.  At the same time, he's done others like "Pacific Overtures" and "A Little Night Music" that bore me to tears.

And then there's "Merrily We Roll Along."  It was a big miss with a lot of people when it first opened in 1980.   Indeed, I believe it famously closed after two weeks and, this despite, having one dynamite production number "Old Friends."  Perhaps it didn't find an audience because it was so damn cynical.  Or maybe it was the show's format where action went into reverse.   Who knows?  But bomb it did like Enola Gay.

Now, my first exposure to it was a small production staged in Los Angeles.   It was okay but I could see where the complaints might lie.  Lots of people have tried to revive the show numerous times...looking for the right formula for success.

And now Maria Freedman may have done that with the Broadway production now winding up its run at the Hudson Theater.  This, on top, of a bunch of Tony Award wins.

I think the only thing that Freedman did to make this production finally shine was by casting some Broadway star power into the three leads.  The likes of Jonathan Groff, Lindsay Mendez, and Daniel Radcliffe infuse the show with such energy that it can't help but succeed.

Indeed, the problems are still there.  It's missing one or two more big splash production numbers.  The reverse plot still takes a bit to get used to.  And there's two or three scenes too many.

But the crowd I was with loved it and forty five years later, "Merrily" is finally a hit.

Sort of.

Dinner last night:  Turkey salad.

Monday Morning Video Laugh - June 17, 2024

 How was your Father's Day, Dad?

Dinner last night:  Ribeye steak.

The Sunday Memory Drawer - Dad On My Mind

 

Today is Father's Day and, for 2024, this year's annual rotation would not have provided me with that double whammy given that June 20 was his birthday.   There are years which this coincided.  As it is, not only is today Paternal Recognition Day but it also would have been my dad's 104th birthday.

Here he sits for some school photo. I can't tell his age in his snapshot, but he might be younger than the fancy suit would suggest. Is it graduation? Confirmation? Who knows? There is really nobody around that I can ask.

Indeed, if Dad were around, I still might not know. Because he never did share any personal information. As were most of the people on his side of the family, silence was golden. Words were few. The showing of emotions was limited at best or worst. And, as a kid in the middle of all this, this just contributed to an ongoing confusion.

With regard to my father, I'd pick up little snippets that somehow got past the verbal censor and run with that knowledge because it was so infrequent. I remember once seeing Dad talk to a woman while he was picking me up from Sunday school. He said her name was Muriel. When I mentioned this to my mother later at home, she sneered.

"That's your father's old girlfriend."

Oh? Well, there's a little something to chew on.

When I had to learn how to type for school, my folks bought me a Smith Corona electric typewriter. Naturally, I hit a lot of speed bumps as I learned to use it. My dad slipped behind the machine and typed like a banshee. Wow. I later told my mother about Dad's typing prowess.

"Well, after the war ended, he went to school and was going to become a court stenographer."

Oh? Another little something to chew on. I asked what happened to that career choice.

"You'll have to ask him."

Of course, I didn't. Because you just didn't.

I wondered about all this pent-up emotion in my father that was destined to make him, in my mind, explode. This can't be good to hold it all in. I started to obsess that he would have a heart attack and die. Every time he was the slightest bit tardy returning from work or the store, I was convinced that he had collapsed dead in some very public place and an ominous phone call was coming momentarily.

I was a weird kid, but, then again, you can see a little bit of the reason why.

This is not to say that I didn't get the usual treatment most sons would get from their fathers. Catches in the driveway, ball games in the summer, movies in the winter. He'd take me to all the war movies. The Longest Day, Guns of Navarone, The Great Escape. I remember him taking me to see the wonderfully funny Operation Petticoat. My father was convulsed in laughter. I enjoyed watching him laugh as much as I did the film itself. You didn't see any kind of emotion often.

A year or two after he died, I had developed a communication with his late brother's former fiancee, Stella. This was the brother killed in France two weeks before WWII ended in Europe and the person I would be named after. During my dad's last years, Stella had resurfaced and spent a lot of time on the phone with him reminiscing. I kept up the dialogue until she herself passed away.

Well, at one point, Stella shared with me some details on her marriage to another guy about two years after my "uncle" was killed. Our entire family was invited and showed up en masse. Apparently, as Stella told it, my father pulled her aside for a moment. And started to sob uncontrollably.

"We're so sorry. We really wanted you in our family."

I was astounded. I didn't know the person in this tale. But, that kind of emotion was possible. Rare. But possible.

I still clamor for more stories like this. They don't come. I fret over the questions I never asked. There is one contemporary of my parents still alive. My father's cousin is still with us in her 90s. But, she no longer remembers who she is.

Some memory drawers will just never be opened again.

If you're lucky and your particular older generation is still around, ask the questions. And ask them soon.

As for me, there is today and a few pleasant memories.   I'll ask again out loud. And the silence will continue.

Happy June Days, Dad. You were still special to me.

Dinner last night:  Beef with broccoli.

Classic TV Theme Song of the Month - June 2024

A very underrated series in my book. 

Dinner last night:  Bacon wrapped Dodger Dog.

The Class of 2024

 

Dinner last night:  Ginger sesame chicken tenders.

The Kindness of a Stranger

Every once in a blue moon, life surprises you in a good way.   And, in the heart of New York City,. for Pete's sake.

I was in town for ten days.   I had some events to attend, but also I wanted to do some normal things even though my last knee replacement surgery left me much less than normal.

The quest for normalcy took me to a Broadway theater night with a good friend. Now she has endured this before.   When I got to the theater with limited mobility, the theater, the parking garage, and the restaurant all have to be within one city block.   And we managed that.  Even though I had to cross Times Square in the middle of a tourist evening.   I was convinced somebody dressed as Minnie Mouse would upend my cane and knock me to the pavement.

So, everything went smoothly and we returned to the parking garage post-show.  This place was a challenge on its own as the only way down to the garage was via a steep ramp.  Not a great place for somebody on a cane.

When we got to the bottom, we realized a lot of shows had just let out.  The cashier's line was about fifty deep.   The line for the valet parking was about 30 deep.  I audibly moaned.

A few minutes later, a parking attendant walked by and looked at the pathetic figure I must have resembled.

"Come with me."

At that, he took us into a private room where I was allowed to pay for my parking.  Five minutes later, the valet showed up with our vehicle.

Did I look that pathetic?   Oh, who cares?

Think about it.   Would you ever expect to see such kindness in the middle of Manhattan?  Mankind, I might have you all wrong.

Dinner last night:  Baby back ribs.

This Date in History - June 12

Happy birthday, Marv Albert.  Now that he's retired, does he still wear the wig?

1665:  THOMAS BILLETT IS APPOINTED THE FIRST MAYOR OF NEW YORK CITY.

It was all downhill after that.

1817:  THE EARLIEST FORM OF BICYCLE, THE DANDY HORSE, IS INVENTED.

Sounds a little gay to me.

1900:  THE REICHSTAG APPROVES NEW LEGISLATION CONTINUING GERMANY'S NAVAL EXPANSION.

Sounds like they're planning something.

1921:  MIKHAIL TUKHACHEVSKY ORDERS THE USE OF CHEMICAL WEAPONS TO END THE TAMBOV PEASANT UPRISING.

That should keep these slobs quiet.

1939:  THE BASEBALL HALL OF FAME OPENS IN COOPERSTOWN, NY.

A great place, but a bitch to get to.

1941:  SPORTS ANNOUNCER MARV ALBERT IS BORN.

And, to think he was once accused of sexual assault.

1942:  ANNE FRANK RECEIVES A DIARY FOR HER 13TH BIRTHDAY.

Now write everything down.

1943:  GERMANY LIQUIDATES THE JEWISH GHETTO IN POLAND.

Did you write that down, Anne?

1957:  ACTOR TIMOTHY BUSFIELD IS BORN.

I conversed with him on a LA-NY flight....one of the first flights after 9/11/01.  Nice guy.

1963:  NAACP FIELD SECRETARY MEDGAR EVERS IS MURDERED IN FRONT OF HIS HOME BY A KLU KLUX KLAN MEMBER.

The sheet was a dead giveaway.

1963:  "CLEOPATRA" STARRING LIZ TAYLOR AND RICHARD BURTON, ONE OF THE MOST EXPENSIVE FILMS EVER MADE, IS RELEASED.

And that's why Fox sold their backlot to what is now the Century City mall.

1967:  THE US SUPREME COURT IN LOVING VS. VIRGINIA DECLARES ALL US STATE LAWS WHICH PROHIBIT INTERRQCIAL MARRIAGE TO BE UNCONSTITUTIONAL.

Thereby widening the dating pool.

1981:   THE FIRST INDIANA JONES FILM, "RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK" OPENS.

And I was there Day One.

1987:  US PRESIDENT RONALD REAGAN CHALLENGES MIKHAIL GORBCHEV TO TEAR DOWN THE BERLIN WALL.

And put up a Starbucks in its place.

1991:  IN RUSSIA'S FIRST DEMOCRATIC ELECTION, BORIS YELTSIN IS ELECTED AS THE PRESIDENT OF RUSSIA.

With no election fraud?

1994:  NICOLE BROWN SIMPSON AND RON GOLDMAN ARE MURDERED.

The late OJ may have been involved.  Wink, wink.

2003:  ACTOR GREGORY PECK DIES.

One of the best.

2018:  US PRESIDENT DONALD TRUMP AND KIM JONG-UN OF NORTH KOREA FOR THE FIRST TIME.

Fake news.

2019:  ACTRESS SYLVIA MILES DIES.   

At 95.  And she looked that old when she was 40.

2023:  ACTOR TREAT WILLIAMS DIES.

Way too young.

Dinner last night:  Pulled pork at the Dodger game.

 

Moron of the Month - June 2024

 This is Jamaal Bowman and he is the House representative for lower Westchester, NY and the Bronx.

And, yes, he is a moron.  A super big one.  But, first, a story of how this Los Angeles resident became aware of his stupidity.

When I traveled to NY last week, I was struck by the number of lawn signage devoted to the guy running in the upcoming primary to unseat Bowman.  Longtime Westchester politician George Latimer is vying for the job.

And I know George.

Years and years ago when I lived on Fifteenth Avenue in Mt. Vernon, George was a year ahead of me in school and living on Fourteenth Avenue.  We became friends.  George even had me and my neighborhood best bud Leo play in his table hockey tournament.

George went to Fordham and one year later so did I.  For a while, George worked in the news department of WFUV the college radio station.  I joined the Friday night team and George ran the show.  He is the one who got me to deal with my self consciousness and actually go on the air.  Every Friday night, after the show, he and I took the bus home together.

Latimer left the station to pursue more political paths and did so.   He ultimately got elected to the County Legislator seat of Westchester.

So, flash forward after years of not being in touch, it turns out George and I wound up at the same Mt. Vernon High School event.  I saw George and went up to say hello.

His terse reply?

"Hey, good to see ya."   And watched away.  I had gotten the politician's response.  Ignored.  Maybe he knew I didn't have a vote here.  Anyway, it was confusing and insulting.

This brings me to 2024 and George's many yard signs.   Would I vote for him if I lived here?   Angry still, I probably wouldn't.  Indeed, a good friend of mine sports a yard sign pushing Bowman.  I became curious enough in this election to watch a televised debate the candidates took part in several weeks.

Truth be told, George wiped the floor with Bowman.  What an idiot.  The very first thing out of his mouth was how January 6 was his first day in Congress and he witnessed multiple killings.

Huh??!!!

The Democrats liked to say this was a bloody day but, in reality, just one person died.  And she was that innocent Trump supporter and nobody knows to this day who shot her.

The rest of the debate was comedic.  Whenever Bowman couldn't answer a simple question, he exclaimed "Oh, I'm just the angry Black man."

Puh-leze.  Bowman embodies the worst of every politician.  Especially when you look at my hometown of Mount Vernon, it resembles a public toilet at the bus station at 3AM.

So, I guess I would vote for George if I could.

If only he had given me a friendlier hello.

Dinner last night:  Long day of air travel.

Monday Morning Video Laugh - June 10, 2024

Again...everybody in the water...woof! 

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

The Sunday Memory Drawer - Hit Traffic?

 

Last weekend found me going to the anniversary event of good friends on Long Island.  PS, I was two hours late.  Because, well, see above.

On whatever highway I was on, the traffic was heavy.  You go.  You stop.  You go.  You stop.  Your foot hits the gas.  Your foot hits the brake.  Push.  Pull.  Push. Pull.  I mean, when you're stuck in traffic, you want to see a good reason why.  Maybe a SUV on fire.  Chalk outlines in the pavement.

But, nothing.  It was just volume.

As I sat there at times motionless and, at other times, a slow creep-along, I suddenly was awash with reminders. Another tsunami of memories from my childhood.  The truest sensory perception.

When was the last time I had sat in Sunday summer traffic heading out of Long Island?

And how many times did this happen when I was a kid?

I can't answer the former, but I know the response to the latter.

A whole freakin' lot.

It seems like that's all my family ever did on Sundays during the summer.  Go out to visit somebody in Long Island.  Hell, don't we know anybody where a bridge toll isn't involved??

This process killed me all the time.  During those days, I wanted to be home for the day.  Curled up with a New York Mets doubleheader on the television.  I'd put up a stink.  Can't I stay home and watch baseball?  Either parent came back with the same retort.

"You can watch the Mets there."

Groan.

So we'd pile into the car.  My folks and sometimes Grandma and even my beagle Tuffy.  We'd head down Baychester Avenue in the Bronx on our way to either the Bronx Whitestone Bridge and the Throgs Neck Bridge.  Stopping briefly so I could throw two quarters into the toll basket.  (I noted the toll now is $7.50!!)  And, once on "the other side," we'd be up for a day of fun and frivolity.

Or, as I would often prefer, a fork in the eye.

There were a bunch of places we could be headed.

Maybe Floral Park where my parents had friends, Joe and Dotty, with three or maybe four awful kids.  I've written about this form of waterboarding before.  Joe was the guy missing some fingers.  Enough said.

Or New Hyde Park.  My parents had another set of friends there.  Mike and....wait for it...Dotty.  From what I was told, my folks and those two were like the Ricardos and the Mertzes before I was born.  They went everywhere together and I saw the photos for proof.  Now they had a daughter, Joanne, who I had zero in common with.  And, to make matters worse, Dotty was now in a wheelchair.  Another cry for an explanation that always went unanswered.  I never found out how she wound up there.

Or we could really travel and wind up at Lake Ronkonkoma.  I can still spell that correctly to this day.  My parents had old neighborhood friends from Mount Vernon who had recently moved there.  A couple of Greeks named Nick and Eppie.  They had two kids who I had....wait for it...zero in common with.  Their names were George and Effie.  The names alone killed me in this house.  Meanwhile, their old Greek grandmother lived with them.  She was always dressed completely in black and hadn't altered this fashion statement since 1943.  They called her "Ya Ya." 

The problem with this set-up was that the old lady had the only television in the house.  So, when I attempted to tune into the Mets, I had to ask for her permission.

"I don't think we get Channel 9 here."

You're in the New York metropolitan area, Granny, not Athens!

The fight would always have me losing because everything with Ya Ya was "No No."  She'd make another offer.

"Don't you want to watch the Ted Mack Amateur Hour?  He always puts on a good show."

Kill me now.

So I'd wind up with the two kids play acting in the yard.  George had his own issues.  No matter what we were enacting, he wanted me to kill him in our little playlet. 

"Okay, so now you shoot me dead...."

"You come save Effie and stab me in the heart..."

"Let's pretend you push me into the BBQ grill and I burn to death..."

Even the sunniest days in Lake Ronkonkoma were as dark as night.

Of course, our most frequent trips to Long Island were to my mom's loopy sister and that bunch in Deer Park.  There, I had two cousins, Patty and Bobby, who were my age.  Plus they'd had a backyard pool so there would be endless fun.  Eventually, I'd put Tuffy in a plastic boat and push her around the pool until it inevitably tipped over and she would dogpaddle herself out.

I'd still want to know what the Mets were doing, but there was no luck in this home either.  At some point, I'd go into the house where the television was being guarded by my Uncle Bob, who was a huge Yankee fan and might have even slept with Mickey Mantle at one point.  I'd ask very politely if I could check for the Mets score.

"We don't watch the Mets here.  This is a New York Yankee house."

Persecuted for my beliefs and I wasn't even ten years old.

I'd hang around and wait in the living room because the way Uncle Bob guzzled beer, he'd have to empty the bladder soon enough.  While he whizzed away in the bathroom, I'd quickly change the channel and hope that Lindsey Nelson would give the score of the Mets game in the next minute and thirty seconds.  As soon as I heard the flush, I'd switch the TV back to Channel 11 and the guys playing in the Bronx.

Logistically, the town of Islip was just a short drive from Deer Park and that's often why Grandma came along on these trips.  You see, we had some distant relatives there.  They even had our same last name but, to this day, I have no clue how they were related to us.  There was a couple there that were my parents' age, Ruth and Lenny.  Yes, he had the same name as me.  Plus his mother lived with them and she also had been dressed in black since the days of Franklin Delano Roosevelt.  Grandma liked to go over and spend time with this lady.  And I still never understood the connection.

I went along when she would drop Grandma off for an afternoon visit.  The old lady also had a TV here.  Can I watch the Mets game?

"Channel 9?  Oh, that always comes in with a lot of snow."

I would smack my head in disbelief.

Now, my namesake in this house was a bit of a screwball.  Probably because I never saw him sober.  I once saw him run headfirst into a tree trunk.  Meanwhile, I would wander into the kitchen where my mother was often seated with a completely frazzled Ruth.  And she would always be saying the same thing.

"I can't take it anymore.  I want to divorce him."

Who the hell were these people and why do I care?????

So, regardless of where I was in either Nassau or Suffolk County, I could never catch a break.  Or find out the score of the Mets game.  But, as every summer Sunday on Long Island would wind down, I, at least, had the solace of going home for my weekly television tradition. 

I could stay up till 11PM and watch my two favorite Sunday night shows.  "Candid Camera" and "What's My Line?" 

The only problem was that the folks liked to linger wherever they were.  My shows started at 10PM.  We were still in Deer Park at 830PM.  Can we go?  NOW??????

Because I knew what the rides home would be like.  No matter what road you drove on.  Northern State.  Southern State.  Long Island Expressway.  They were all clogged with people headed back to New York City.  The trips home could often last for two hours.

Meanwhile, in the back seat, my grandmother did her usual brand of torture.  As soon as we would get into the car for the trip home, Grandma would immediately reach into her pocketbook and take out her back door keys.  She was ready to be home.  Of course, she would fumble with these keys for the entire ride.  Even though I was staring at the back of my mother's head, I could see her eyes rolling in disgust.

Dad would stop and start the entire trip.  Tuffy would be sound asleep up on the back window of the car.  Of course, my father would have to slam on the brakes at some time and this would send the dog flying from the window to the floor of the back seat.  It's a wonder she would live to the age of 18.

Dad, bored by the traffic, would start fiddling with the radio.  He'd stop on a news station.  My ears would perk up.

"And, today, in the sports world...."

My father would hit another button and suddenly it was Vic Damone on WNEW-AM.

The disc jockey would give the time.  9:42PM.  Damn, no Mets score and now maybe no "Candid Camera."  I'd be lucky to salvage "What's My Line."

It seemed like a weekly eternity before we would be safely across whichever Bronx bridge we used that Sunday.  Heck, I might make it home in time.   And, then, my mother, silent for the whole trip except for some loud "tsks" about Grandma's door key twirling, would make the dreaded announcement.

"We better stop at the candy store.  I'm down to my last pack."

And I'm down to my last nerve. 

Another summer Sunday on Long Island.  Final score?  Universe, one million.  Len, nothing.  I'd get home just in time to hear...

"And this is John Charles Daly saying goodnight for 'What's My Line'......"

Dinner last night: Hot dogs at Yankee Stadium Audi Club.

Classic Newsreel of the Month - June 2024

Yep, this happened 80 years ago this week. 

Dinner last night:  Grilled shrimp at Hudson Social.

Isn't June An Arresting Month?

 

Thanks for showing us your most useful body part.

If only she could run as fast as her mascara.

I'm thinking that the first thing that gets broken in her cell block are those specs.

 The advisory from Mom and Dad should have been "don't leave the house."

 Popeye's bastard son.

Honey, this isn't for the school yearbook.

 Oh, my God!  They've arrested Moms Mabley!

Seen a ghost?

 Inmate comes ready to assemble.

A perfect example of what repeated extensions can do to your scalp.

Dinner last night:  Chopped salad at Sardi's.

The Hand Up The Back

 

If somebody wrote a textbook about the Muppets, this would be the film version of that.  EVERYTHING you ever wanted to know about these characters are found in this linear and very clinical documentary directed by Ron Howard.

Speaking of which, let's give Ron a big round of applause for morphing into a documentarian and providing us with some very recent and compelling films of that genre.   There is no smarter film maker at work these days.  Kudos.

But, in the case of this particular film, it's all Jim Henson all the time.  You follow his career one felt puppet at a time. From local TV to Sesame Street to movies to...well, you name it.

Now if you are looking for salacious stories about Jim Henson, this is not your venue.   His kids are very much involved and you won't get idle gossip about the guy, even though he was allegedly a marital philanderer.  Nope, this is as white washed as it comes.

I would also have liked to know more about his untimely death at 53.  Supposedly, he was one of those people who didn't see a doctor for religious reasons.  If that's the case, I would have liked to have known more.

But if you are looking for a step-by-step creation of the Muppets, this is the movie for you.  It is totally entertaining, even though it's slightly lacking for yours truly.

LEN'S RATING:  Three and-a-half stars.

Dinner last night:  Korean fried chicken at the Cheesecake Factory.