No Words Today

 

This Date in History - September 10

 

Happy birthday in Heaven, Arnold Palmer.   Most people recognized you for your golf prowess, but I.....well, I'll finish the thought down below.

506:  THE BISHOPS OF VISIGOTHIC GAUL MEET IN THE COUNCIL OF AGDE.

Some gall.

1419:  JOHN THE FEARLESS IS ASSASSINATED BY ADHERENTS OF THE DAUPHIN, THE FUTURE CHARLES VII OF FRANCE.

Not so fearless now, heh, bub?

1509:  AN EARTHQUAKE KNOWN AS "THE LESSER JUDGMENT DAY" HITS CONSTANTINOPLE  

So when is the "Bigger Judgment Day?"

1515:  THOMAS WOLSEY IS INVESTED AS A CARDINAL.

Big deal.  So was Stan Musial.

1570:  SPANISH JESUIT MISSIONARIES LAND IN PRESENT-DAY VIRGINIA. 

Can college professors at Georgetown and Fordham be far behind?

1608:  JOHN SMITH IS ELECTED COUNCIL PRESIDENT OF JAMESTOWN,  VIRGINIA.

And found in most motel registers.

1776:  DURING THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION, NATHAN HALE VOLUNTEERS TO SPY FOR THE CONTINENTAL ARMY.

You'll be sorry.

1778:  DURING THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION, THE ANTELOPE SLOOP IS SUNK BY A "A BLOODY GREAT YANKEE" NEAR MONTEGO BAY.

My guess is Joe DiMaggio.

1823:  SIMON BOLIVAR IS NAMED PRESIDENT OF PERU.

Simon sez.

1846:  ELIAS HOWE IS GRANTED A PATENT FOR THE SEWING MACHINE.

I'll need the pants by Saturday.

1918:  DURING THE RUSSIAN CIVIL WAR, THE RED ARMY CAPTURES KAZAN.

Elia or Lainie?

1929:  GOLFER ARNOLD PALMER IS BORN.

....that nifty iced tea and lemonade concoction.

1932:  THE IND, THE NYC SUBWAY'S THIRD LINE, IS OPENED.

Change at 50th Street for the RR.

1934:  JOURNALIST CHARLES KURALT IS BORN.

Always got him mixed up with Collingwood.

1934:  BASEBALL STAR ROGER MARIS IS BORN.

Asterisk.

1935:  POLITICIAN HUEY LONG DIES.

Well, killed really.

1939:  CANADA DECLARES WAR ON NAZI GERMANY.

Join the Allied Forces and see the world.

1943:  GERMAN FORCES OCCUPY ROME.

Hey, can you blame them?   The food is good.

1945:  SINGER JOSE FELICIANO IS BORN.

Without the ability to see a calendar, how does he know?

1946:  THE WOMAN WHO WILL LATER BECOME MOTHER THERESA CLAIMS TO HAVE HEARD THE CALL OF GOD, DIRECTING HER TO LEAVE THE CONVENT AND HELP THE POOR.

Hmmm.  I must be on the Do Not Call list.

1967:  THE PEOPLE OF GIBRALTAR VOTE TO REMAIN A BRITISH DEPENDENCY RATHER THAN BECOMING A PART OF SPAIN.

Rock solid decision.

1972:  THE UNITED STATES SUFFERS ITS FIRST LOSS OF AN INTERNATIONAL BASKETBALL GAME IN A DISPUTED MATCH AGAINST THE SOVIET UNTION AT THE 1972 MUNICH SUMMER OLYMPICS.

As if that's what people remember about these Olympic games.

1974:  GUINEA-BISSAU GAINS INDEPENDENCE FROM PORTUGAL.

Anybody really care?   Show of hands.

1977:  HAMIDA DJANDOUBI, CONVICTED OF TORTURE AND MURDER, IS THE LAST PERSON TO BE EXECUTED BY GUILLOTINE IN FRANCE.

A head of their time.

1996:  ACTRESS JOANNE DRU DIES.

Peter Marshall's sister, if you care.

2001:  CHARLES INGRAM CHEATS HIS WAY INTO WINNING ONE MILLION POUNDS ON THE BRITISH EDITION OF WHO WANTS TO BE A MILLIONAIRE.

I'd like to use my attorney as a lifeline.

2002:  SWITZERLAND, A NEUTRAL COUNTRY, JOINS THE UNITED NATIONS.

How do you vote, Swiss delegation?  Yes.  No.  Yes.  No.  Abstain.

2007:  ACTRESS JANE WYMAN DIES.

She saw Ronald Reagan naked.   I don't thank that's what killed her.

2011:  ACTOR CLIFF ROBERTSON DIES.

I used to always get him mixed up with that guy who was on the Wells Fargo TV show.

2020:  ACTRESS DIANA RIGG DIES.

Avenged.

Dinner last night:  Salad.

Moron of the Month - September 2025

 

In a week where we remember the devastation of 9/11, it's noteworthy to spotlight one of the complete idiots our soldiers defend this country for.

No, not Joe Biden.   He's old news.   I'm talking about the punk on the left.  That would be Harry J. Sisson.   I would assume the "J" stands for "Jerk."   Yep, our military protects this idiot's right to forge a major career.   Mainly because he knows how to use Instagram and Tik Tok.

In 2025, all you need to become a social media phenomenon is a laptop.    The world of political pundits and so-called influencers can be at your feet if you can maneuver the internet.   And Harry knows how to do it.  I mean, there's a lot of life experience in those 22 years he clocks in at.   

Harry is the darling of the far left liberal crack pots.   Go to his Twitter...I mean, X...account and take a look at who adoringly follows him.   It's a potpourri of Hollywood influencers.     All united in their hatred for Trump.   Every day and in every way, there is news and innuendo pointed at the President from this kid who probably got a C- in American History.   If you follow him regularly, you will note that more than 50% of his entries are lies and downright incorrect information.

Never was Harry more stupid than last weekend when he and other liberal mouthpieces somehow got traction with the rumor that Trump had died.  They focused on pictures that showed bruises on his hand.    Dr. Harry J. Sisson had a diagnosis ready.   And they must be hiding the dire news because somehow Harry doctored a phone of the First Lady leaving Walter Reed Hospital.

There is much ado about nothing when it comes to schmucks like Harry.   I would suggest he find a real career but he's probably making too much money for his financial portfolio.   And the funny thing is that the portfolio is probably doing well in large part due to Trump's work on the economy.   I know mine has gone up.  And the so-called end of democracy that Harry portends is really non-existent.   After all, nobody has shut down his social media.

Someday, idiots like Harry J. Sisson will go the way of Silly Putty and that will be a good thing.   The only person who will still be in love with Harry is...well...Harry.   Sitting on the edge of his bed every night with one hand holding a box of tissue.

Dinner last night:  Roasted tomatoes.

Monday Morning Video Laugh - September 8, 2025

 School has started...for Rodney Dangerfield.

Dinner last night:  Ribeye steak and roasted cherry tomatoes.

The Sunday Memory Drawer - That "Back to School" Thing

 

We know the kids have gone back to school because the buses tie up traffic every morning and afternoon.

Ah, September.

The Fall prospects were doubly ominous for me.   Not only was I going back to school, but Sunday school at church was also kicking in.   Jeez, can't a kid get a break?

The photo above is one from my childhood church.  St. Peter's Lutheran Church on 219th Street.   It looks like something out of the Little Rascals.   Since my family roots helped to build this church, I am thinking my dad was once in the same position as these urchins.   

I would be, too.   Many years later.

I do remember the pastor in the picture. By the time I was one of these tykes, the guy had the word "Emeritus" in his title and was about to have his first one-on-one with God himself. He had already turned over the reins of the place to another German, Pastor Hoeniger. 

But, one thing that did not change over the years? Sunday school classes like this one. 

This, indeed, may have been a confirmation class, judging by the way the boys are dressed. Time, however, did remove the bows from the hair of the girls I studied with. Mercifully.

In the circle of life of our family, my dad would drive me to the same church for a similar Sunday school class.  For an hour beginning at 9AM, he would sit in his car outside the church, reading up on Gasoline Alley and Moon Mullins in the funny papers. I was inside, learning how to recite the Apostle's Creed. 

And not exactly loving the experience.

For us, Sunday School was one big room. Long rows of tables and, as you had birthdays, you moved from one table to the next like it was a Parker Brothers game. First, you were at the kindergarten table. Then, the first grade table. Then, the second grade table. As you progressed around the room, you noticed that there were less and less crayons as you grew up. 

At the kindergarten table, you colored some drawing of Noah loading animals on his arc. At the first grade table, you got to memorize the writing at the bottom of the page you just colored.

"Noah loading animals on his arc."

Done.

By the second and third grade tables, you were starting to hear Bible stories. But, not the traditional ones. Instead, because we were kids and more likely to identify with somebody else our own age, there were books devoted to Jesus as a small boy. Going to temple. Helping out his father in the carpenter shop. Totally strange. Little Jesus as if he were the star of a situation comedy.
"Leave It to Jesus."

In retrospect, it was all absurd. But, back when, we bought it hook, line, and sinker.

At the beginning of every Sunday School session, we all stood as one group. Kindergarteners right through to the sixth grade. And we recited prayers and sung hymns as led by the wife of the church council president. One such Sunday service had disastrous results for me, when a lack of breakfast made me faint face forward.   It was very well timed.  At the end of the Lord's Prayer.

"Forever and ever...amen."

Thud.

For us kids, I guess this was a worship service. After all, we were not allowed upstairs to the main sanctuary. That was for the grownups. Downstairs, we had other life issues to grapple with.

"Hmmm, should I make Jesus' robe blue or green?"

The only time we got to go up to the big people's church was at Christmastime. The Sunday School annually put on a Yuletide pageant of carols and recitations. For this, my mother would make an in-person appearance. Which had been preceded by weeks and weeks of arduous rehearsals at home as she put me through my paces for whatever small contribution I was going to make to the show. 

Usually, the littlest kids had to memorize two or three lines of rhyming verse. She called it "saying my piece." For hours on end, I had to stand in the living room and recite it. 

Over and over and over and over and over. Laurence Olivier rehearsed "Hamlet" less.

And the words I had to say were always silly. Crafted by that same wife of the church council president, our Christmas pieces seemed to have been lifted from Bazooka gum wrappers.

"Tis the season, tis the reason, for glory to seize us, and love you, Baby Jesus."

Or something like that. The afternoon pageant couldn't end soon for me. Mom would be beaming in the front row as if I was Lincoln on the battlefield at Gettysburg.

Eventually, my Sunday School years ended with the natural progression. You moved to a Confirmation class with the Pastor. This was no small feat. Two hours every Saturday morning at church for two solid years. You didn't become a Lutheran easily those days.

And that meant I was now going to a school seven mornings a week.

Yes, a kid could not get a break around here.

Dinner last night:   Roasted tomatoes. 

Classic TV Commercial of the Month - September 2025

 Hey, Jed, call the Surgeon General.

Dinner last night:  Yakisoba steak.

The Mugs of September

 

Right out of bed and into a jail cell.

With her ass in jail, where will her family hang up their washcloths?

The first time I've ever seen hair do snow angels.

The one call she can make from jail should be to whoever can show up with her bottom dentures.

Vintage political T-shirt # 1.

Vintage political T-shirt # 2.

Somehow I don't think you can fix this with a squirt of Bactine.

The real criminal here is whoever did her mascara at Walmart.

Got cell?

This guy really got plastered.

Vintage political T-shirt #3.

Dinner last night:  Cheese and crackers.

Len's Recipe of the Month - September 2025

 

Even though it's still hot in Los Angeles, the calendar flipping to a Fall month turns on my oven and my cooking.

I've been looking in one of the viral dishes people are talking about.  Hot Honey Chicken.  Savory and sweet.   I found one of my favorite social media chefs had a recipe and I tried it.

With most recipes these days, it's all about the marinade which ideally you should do overnight.    Let's assemble the marinade for this using...

6 cloves of garlic.

1 small chopped onion.

1/3 cup olive oil.

1/3 cup white wine.

1/3 cup tomato paste.

2 tablespoons of honey.

1 teaspoons of dried oregano.

2 teaspoons salt.

1 tablespoon Calabrian chili paste.

On the last item, my super market didn't have the paste, but they had a jar of chopped chilis.   Simply mash them with a fork and voila...paste.

Now you'll want to unwrap four to six bone-in, skin-on chicken thighs.  Put them in a Ziplock bag and pour the marinade over them.   Put in the fridge overnight.

Slice up about a pound of small Yukon Gold potatoes.   Lay them over a roasting pan.   You might want to spread some cooking spray in the pan before you do this.

Preheat your oven to 425.

Remove the thighs from the fridge and put on a plate.   Pour the marinade over the potatoes and roast for 30 minutes.

While the potatoes are cooking, you need to assemble the hot honey sauce.  In a small bowl, mix 1/3 cup of honey with two tablespoons of the chili paste.

Remove the potatoes and nestle the thighs of them.   Baste the thighs with the sauce.   Tin foil the pan and cook for 30 minutes.   

Remove the tin foil and then return the pan to the oven for 20 more minutes.

You're all set...Hot Honey.

Dinner last night:  Chicken sausage.

This Date in History - September 3

 

Happy birthday, Charlie Sheen.  You've been quiet lately but, then again, I'm behind in my reading of Police Gazette.

301:  SAN MERINO, ONE OF THE SMALLEST NATIONS IN THE WORLD AND THE OLDEST REPUBLIC IN EXISTENCE, IS FOUNDED BY SAINT MARINUS.

Marinus?   Doesn't he play in Seattle?

673:  KIMG WAMBA OF THE VISIGOTHS PUTS DOWN A REVOLT BY HILDERIC, GOVERNOR OF FRANCE.

If Wamba was on a baseball team, he would swing a wambat.

1189:  RICHARD THE LIONHEART OF ENGLAND IS CROWNED AT WESTMINSTER.

He is the king of the forest.

1260:  THE MAMLUKS DEFEAT THE MONGOLS IN PALESTINE, MARKING THEIR FIRST DECISIVE DEFEAT AND THE POINT OF MAXIMUM EXPANSION OF THE MONGOL EMPIRE.

I love Mongolian Beef.

1651:  THE BATTLE OF WORCESTER IN THE THIRD ENGLISH CIVIL WAR.

So how does this wind up in Massachusetts?

1658:  RICHARD CROMWELL BECOMES LORD PROTECTOR OF ENGLAND.

Lord Protector?   Sounds like a movie with Arnold.

1777:  DURING THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION, THE FLAG OF THE UNITED STATES IS FLOWN IN BATTLE FOR THE FIRST TIME AT THE BATTLE OF COOCH'S BRIDGE.

Long may it wave.

1812:  24 SETTLERS ARE KILLED IN THE PIGEON ROOST MASSACRE IN INDIANA.

But how many birds died?

1838:  FUTURE ABOLITIONIST FREDERICK DOUGLASS ESCAPES FROM SLAVERY.

Can you blame him for his later political stand?

1861:  DURING THE AMERICAN CIVIL WAR, CONFEDERATE GENERAL LEONIDAS POLK INVADES NEUTRAL KENTUCKY. 

My Old Confederate Home.

1875:  THE FIRST OFFICIAL GAME OF POLO IS PLAYED IN ARGENTINA AFTER BEING INTRODUCED BY BRITISH RANCHERS.

So now we have something to put on the cologne bottle.

1910:  TV PERSONALITY KITTY CARLISLE IS BORN.

With or without the long black gloves.

1913:  ACTOR ALAN LADD IS BORN.

He's here, Shane.

1914:  FRENCH COMPOSER ALBERIC MAGNARD IS KILLED AFTER SHOOTING AT INVADING GERMAN SOLDIERS.

Cue the funeral dirge.

1924:  ACTRESS MARY GRACE CANFIELD IS BORN.

Alf...or Ralph....from Green Acres,   Whichever one, she just died, too.

1929:  MOBSTER WHITEY BULGER IS BORN.

Celebrating this one in jail.

1931:  SERIAL KILLER ALBERT DESALVO IS BORN.

Don't answer the door.

1935:  SIR MALCOLM CAMPBELL REACHES A SPEED OF 304,331 MILES PER HOUR ON THE BONNEVILLE SALT FLATS IN UTAH, BECOMING THE FIRST PERSON TO DRIVE A CAR OVER 300 MPH. 

They haven't seen me when I'm late for a Dodger game.

1939:  FRANCE, THE UNITED KINGDOM, NEW ZEALAND, AND AUSTRALIA DECLARE WAR ON GERMANY AFTER THE INVASION OF POLAND.

Mr. Roosevelt, what say you?  I hear nothing.

1939:  THE UNITED KINGDOM AND FRANCE BEGIN A NAVAL BLOCKADE OF GERMANY THAT LASTS UNTIL THE END OF THE WAR.

I'm guessing this was mostly England's idea.

1941:  THE FIRST GAS CHAMBER EXPERIMENTS ARE CONDUCTED AT AUSCHWITZ.

Charming.

1944:  ANNE FRANK AND HER FAMILY ARE PLACED ON THE LAST TRANSPORT TRAIN TO AUSCHWITZ.

And speaking of the gas chamber.

1951:  THE FIRST AMERICAN TV SOAP OPERA, SEARCH FOR TOMORROW, AIRS FOR THE FIRST TIME ON CBS.

Not one that my grandmother watched.

1962:  POET E.E. CUMMINGS DIES.

rip.

1965:  ACTOR CHARLIE SHEEN IS BORN.

You think there's some drinking going on at his house tonight?

1967:  IN SWEDEN, TRAFFIC CHANGES FROM DRIVING ON THE LEFT TO DRIVING ON THE RIGHT OVERNIGHT.

Which makes it very confusing when you're coming home with a snootful at midnight.

1970:  COACH VINCE LOMBARDI DIES.

Thrown for a huge loss.

1985:  SONGWRITER JOHNNY MARKS DIES.

He had a very shiny nose.

1991:  DIRECTOR FRANK CAPRA DIES.

It WAS a wonderful life.

2001:  FILM CRITIC PAULINE KAEL DIES.

I bet she hates this, too.

2012:  RELIGIOUS LEADER SUN MYUNG MOON DIES.

Setting in the west.

2015:  ACTRESS JUDY CARNE DIES.

Socked it to her.

Dinner last night:  Leftover Hot Honey Chicken.

Bye Bye Cyndi

 

So, to maintain my vaulted status with the Hollywood Bowl, I have to buy tickets for five different concerts every summer.  Now, there are years where I am okay with four events but hard pressed to find a fifth one I really want to see.  This was one of those years.   

Four was easy.   The fifth, not so much.   Under consideration?  Josh Groban.  Meh?  Chicago?  Already seen whatever passes for Chicago in 2025?  A tribute to Black Movie soundtracks?   You're kidding right?

So I settled for Cyndi Lauper on what is supposedly her last concert ever.   Not that I have anything against her.   I've enjoyed the three or four hits she's had.  She would not be my first choice.   But, as far as this fifth selection, she was.

This led to one of the more bizarre Bowl evenings ever.   First off was the majority of the crowd.   I would not have been surprised to hear that this tour was a joint sponsorship of AARP and Jenny Craig.   You get the picture.   If you were an older overweight single woman living in Los Angeles, you were not home this night.

Entering the Bowl, there were signs all around alerting the crowd that the event was being taped for a TV special.  Now most of the Bowl events are taped, but it was noteworthy that they were making a special case to notify us.  Hmmm.

There was an opening act.  Some 30-year-old flaming Gay singer named Jake Wesley Rogers who peppered his act with unintelligent songs and pointed barbs at the federal government.  He concluded by saying that he hoped we would see him again soon.   I would say that was possible if you shop at the West Hollywood Gelson's where he will likely be the new grocery bagger.

We moved mercifully onto Ms. Lauper and the first hour of her performances were songs depicting her life's journey.  Songs, of course, that nobody ever heard before.   

Special guests were promised and ultimately delivered in the second half.  Suddenly, Joni Mitchell appeared for a number.   Cyndi enjoyed doing it so much that she announced they would sing it again.   This was my first clue that the TV taping was running roughshod over the evening.   

Out came John Legend for one of her hits.  They sang it and, three quarters of the way in, they stopped so they could restart it.   I began to realize that this was turning into a "Friends" taping.   A mult-cam sitcom that routinely does scenes several times.

The same happened when Cyndi did a number with SZA (anybody?).   At least, it gave me extra time to figure out who the hell she was.

As weird as this evening was, the final number "Girls Just Wanna..." made it all worthwhile when special surprise guest Cher appeared.  It ended with a round of fireworks.

When it was over, there were murmuring of a second go.   But, the Bowl was now up to his 11PM neighborhood curfew.   And somebody probably realized there were no more fireworks left.

Indeed. an oddity of an evening now completed.

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

Monday Morning Video Laugh - September 1, 2025

Another Labor Day without Jerry Lewis.  Except on this blog.  Enjoy watching him putting up a TV antenna.

Dinner last night:  Hot Honey Chicken and Potatoes.

The Sunday Memory Drawer - One Last Woof

 

I've used this old, old photo of my childhood dog, Tuffy, before.  Sadly, it's the only snapshot I have of my beloved Beagle.  It's also the old picture I have of our hideously ancient kitchen.  But I digress...

Here in Los Angeles, kids have already gone back to school.  Two weeks before Labor Day and that would suck if I was still learning my reading and writing. Back in my hometown of Mount Vernon, New York, our first day back into the dungeon was always the Wednesday after Labor Day.   You dreaded that day like no other.

Of course, the telltale signs had creeped up for several weeks prior.  On TV, you'd see more and more commercials for the new Fall shows.  You'd notice that, at 8PM, it was darker today than it was yesterday.  And, on some days, there was a crispness in the summer air that was a portent of the fall.   Somebody up my neighborhood block would then be tempted to pull out the football for a game of touch in the street.

And, every year, as summer closed and school approached, I would start to have guilt feelings that I needed to purge quickly.  

Had I not played with my dog enough this summer?

I've written the tale here before of how Tuffy came into our household.  She was a birthday present to me when I turned eight years old.   Technically, she was my dog.  And I consumed much of her time in the early years.  There, of course, was the day that I wrote about here as well.   When she went into the vet's office for the surgery that would spay her.  I suffered the same pains and wound up in the nurse's office, convinced that my dog was going to die mid-operation.

For the first few years, Tuffy and I were inseparable.  But, then, as I got older, I was distracted by school, friends, and play.  Suddenly, my dog became our dog.

With both my parents working at night, it fell to my grandmother to be the guardian of Tuffy while everybody was out of the house.  Sure, my dad would take her out for a walk when he came home from work at midnight.  But, for the most part, Tuffy became the property of Grandma downstairs.  The dog would be down there most of the day, following my grandmother's daily schedule to a tee.

Lunch at 11AM.  Tuffy would wait by the table for scraps.  If the door between our part of the house and Grandma's was closed, Tuffy actually could turn the knob with her paws.  

While Grandma took her "beauty rest" from 1PM to 2PM, Tuffy did the same and stretched out on the area carpet between the living room and the dining room.  If it was particularly hot during the summer, she would opt for the cool linoleum floor underneath the dining room table.

At 4PM, Tuffy was back at Grandma's kitchen table as dinner was consumed.   She would always get to lick the plate or suck some stale bread soaked in whatever gravy or sauce had been consumed that day.  My grandmother would then go sit in the yard for a couple of hours.  Tuffy would be nearby, leashed to the railing of the backyard steps.

It was a simple summer life for the two of them.

Until the end of August when I would feel compelled to disrupt the routine.  I would suddenly realize that I would be separated soon from Tuffy.  And, after all, she was still my dog.  It was as if I needed in two late August weeks to reinforce that fact that I was still in charge.  And could see to my dog's every want and need.

Suddenly, I was the one walking her.  Almost all day long.  I would walk her ten blocks to the Fourth Avenue shopping district.  We would walk proudly to the 241st Street shopping district in the Bronx.  We'd walk to the Penn Central train station on Mount Vernon Avenue.  I was clearly overcompensating.  And, while probably not thrilled by the sudden spurt in activity, my dog never wavered in loyalty.  For those two weeks.

We'd play catch in the yard.  For hours at a time, we'd engage in a tug-of-war battle over an old sock.  I took care of all the brushing.  And, in one foolhardy attempt to really show my control, I tried to give her a bath in the yard.  The one who wound up soaked was me.

Then, almost instantly, I was back in school.  And Tuffy was undoubtedly delighted to go back to her normal, quiet routine.

When I went away to college, our time together became even less.  And, unlike those Augusts where I felt that I needed to exert my authority, I did even less with the dog.  It went from my dog to our dog to their dog.

Before I knew it, Tuffy had every ailment in the world.  She had somehow lasted to the age of eighteen.  But there was a tumor growing on her jaw and one August morning, she couldn't even stand.

Grandma was too upset to comprehend.  This was amazing since she was the one almost two decades before who had asked the question.

"What do you want to bring a dog in the house for?"

My dad was a bit in denial as well.  He must have enjoyed those midnight strolls more than he admitted.

It was up to me.  I made the call.  It was time.

On one last August day, Tuffy was my dog all over again.

Dinner last night:  Hot dog at the Hollywood Bowl.

Classic Musical Comedy Production Number of the Month - August 2025

Woo hoo.  A five Saturday morning gives us the opportunity to enjoy a great musical comedy production number.  "The Sound of Music" (movie) is 60 years old.  Here's my favorite number from that wonderful musical.

Dinner last night:  Grilled peaches, burrata, and proscuitto at the Courtyard Kitchen.

Len's Jukebox of the Month - August 2025

 Summer's end.

Dinner last night: Roasted chicken pieces.

Hollywood Then and Now - August 2025

The changing landscape of Hollywood.  Or not.   Here is part of the Desilu lot back sixty years ago when they owned part of Paramount.

 Years later, Desilu is gone but Paramount exists for now.   The globe on the corner of the roof is intact.

Dinner last night:  Not hungry so just some frozen lemonade at the Dodger game.

This Date in History - August 27

 

It's Wednesday, so let's say happy birthday to Tuesday...Weld, that is.

410:  THE SACKING OF ROME BY THE VISIGOTHS ENDS AFTER THREE DAYS.

Who knew the Visigoths had such good tackles.

1172:  HENRY THE YOUNG KING AND MARGARET OF FRANCE ARE CROWNED AS JUNIOR KING AND QUEEN OF ENGLAND.

But who got Homecoming?

1776:  IN THE BATTLE OF LONG ISLAND, IN WHAT IS NOW BROOKLYN, NEW YORK, BRITISH FORCES DEFEAT AMERICANS LED BY GENERAL GEORGE WASHINGTON.

And this is why Jackie Robinson didn't speak with a British accent.

1798:  WOLFE TONE'S UNITED IRISH AND FRENCH FORCES CLASH WITH THE BRITISH ARMY IN THE BATTLE OF CASTLEBAR.  THIS RESULTS IN THE CREATION OF THE FRENCH PUPPET REPUBLIC OF CONNACHT.

I love puppets.

1813:  FRENCH EMPEROR NAPOLEON I DEFEATS A FORCE OF AUSTRIANS, RUSSIANS, AND PRUSSIANS AT THE BATTLE OF DRESDEN.

Not bad for a guy with one arm in his jacket.

1832:  BLACK HAWK, LEADER OF THE SAUK TRIBE, SURRENDERS TO US AUTHORITIES.

Black Hawk Down.

1859:  PETROLEUM IS DISCOVERED IN PENNSYLVANIA LEADING TO THE WORLD'S FIRST SUCCESSFUL OIL WELL.

Paging Jed Clampett.

1861:  DURING THE AMERICAN CIVIL WAR, UNION FORCES ATTACK CAPE HATTERAS, NORTH CAROLINA.

Usually it's just hurricanes.

1896:  ANGLO-ZANZIBAR WAR - THE SHORTEST WAR IN WORLD HISTORY (45 MINUTES) IS HELD BETWEEN THE UNITED KINGDOM AND ZANZIBAR.

Fits perfectly into an hour with commercials.

1908:  PRESIDENT LYNDON B. JOHNSON IS BORN.

I ask for your help...and God's.

1916:  ACTRESS MARTHA RAYE IS BORN.

On this day, she didn't have any teeth either.

1921:  THE BRITISH INSTALL THE SON OF SHARIF HUSSEIN BIN ALI AS KING FAISAL I OF IRAQ.

Well, Faisal is shorter to write on checks.

1927:  FIVE CANADIAN WOMEN FILE A POSITION TO THE SUPREME COURT OF CANADA ASKING "DOES THE WORD PERSONS INCLUDE FEMALE PERSONS?"

These days, I'm wondering if the word persons refers to male persons.

1942:  MUSICIAN DARYL DRAGON IS BORN.

The Captain with Tennille!

1943:  DURING WORLD WAR II, JAPANESE FORCES EVACUATE NEW GEORGIA ISLAND IN THE PACIFIC THEATER.

What did they always call it a theater?   This is not a show I wanted to watch.

1943:  ACTRESS TUESDAY WELD IS BORN.

Oddly enough, August 27, 1943 was a Friday.

1964:  WALT DISNEY'S "MARY POPPINS" PREMIERES AT GRAUMAN'S CHINESE THEATER.

A great movie.

1964:  COMEDY STAR GRACIE ALLEN DIES.

I hope she didn't have tickets to see "Mary Poppins."

1971:  AN ATTEMPTED COUP D'ETAT FAILS IN THE AFRICAN NATION OF CHAD AND THEY BLAME EGYPT.

Or Jeremy.

1971:  PUBLISHER BENNETT CERF DIES.

Now his line is "Corpse."

1975:  ETHIOPIAN EMPEROR HAILE SELASSIE I DIES

Highly not breathing.

1985:  THE NIGERIAN GOVERNMENT IS PEACEFULLY OVERTHROWN.

Er, excuse me, we're taking over now, thank you.

1996:  ACTOR GREG MORRIS DIES.

Mission:  Really Impossible Now.

2003:  MARS MAKES ITS CLOSEST APPROACH TO EARTH IN NEARLY 60,000 YEARS.

When those Martians get a good look at this place, they'll wait another 60,000 to come back.

Dinner last night:  Salisbury steak.

The Best Show I Am Watching Right Now

 

You Tube is one of the greatest TV resources we have.   You can find anything there.  And that's how the best TV show I am watching right now comes from 1967!

If you're bored like me with every single cam sitcom produced in the last 20 years, you will adore "He & She."  It ran one year for only 26 episodes, but so, so ahead of its time.  It foreshadows the golden sitcom era that will come from folks like Norman Lear and MTM.  In fact, one of the show runners on this gem is Allan Burns who co-created MTM.  The sophistication on this gem is so real that you can almost touch it.

The premise is simple.   Richard Benjamin plays the cartoonist who draws Jet Man.   He and wife Paula Prentiss live in Manhattan with ready access to the fire house next door.   The building super spends most of the season fixing the front door.  And Dick and Paula ooze such warmth and sexuality.

Speaking of which, Jack Cassidy plays Jet Man and is the forerunner of Ted Baxter.   He also plays the role with such subtle nuances that hint at him being perhaps the first gay TV character.

"He and She" got Emmy nominations for acting and won the award for writing and directing.   It should have been a clean sweep.  Not only was the show ahead of its time, but CBS didn't know where to schedule it.   The comedy ended up running right after "Green Acres."  Two completely different audience flows.  Had it premiered four years later, "He and She" would have run for eight seasons.

This has been a great visitation.  Recently, I saw Richard Benjamin at a screening.   I told him I was patiently waiting for a second season.

"I'm going to go home and tell Paula you said that."

Dinner last night:  BLT from Mendocino Farms.

Monday Morning Video Laugh - August 25, 2025

We wrap up TV Blooper Month with this classic from "The Carol Burnett Show." 

Dinner last night:  Cheese and crackers at the Hollywood Bowl.

The Sunday Memory Drawer - The Center Square

 

He popped up in my You Tube page the other day in a Carol Burnett sketch from maybe 50 years ago.

I waS hooked all over again.

From the very first time I was exposed to Paul Lynde (and that certainly sounds wrong), I was a fan.    During my marathon week at the Loews Mount Vernon movie theater when I saw "Bye Bye Birdie" not one, not twice, but five times, there were two people who impressed me most in that movie.  Ann-Margret for all reasons that are extremely obvious.  And Paul Lynde for reasons that I can't explain.

I lived, breathed, and probably everything else-d that movie for the next year.  The soundtrack album was played over and over and over in my room.  The record cover alone had an ignoble history all its own.  I mean, look at it.   You don't really want to know, do you?

But, along with the "things" I was doing and thinking to this album cover, the other thing I was doing with the soundtrack was singing along.  To all the songs except "How Lovely to Be a Woman" and "One Boy."  Even then, I knew the difference.  And my favorite songs to chime in on were Paul Lynde's.  "Kids" and "Hymn to a Sunday Night."

I can only imagine what my family thought.

"E----ddd  Sulli-van!  E----dd Sulli-van!  We're gonna be on E----dd Sulli-van!"

The intonation was perfect.  And so was my imitation of Paul Lynde.

If I knew then what I know now.  Hell, if only my parents knew then what they would eventually know later...

I became a bit of a Paul Lynde geek.  As soon as the TV Guide showed up in our house, I would devour it to find TV shows he was guesting on that week.

Bewitched.

F Troop.

The Munsters.

The Mothers In-Law.

Dean Martin Presents the Golddiggers.  Yes, there was such a show. 

And, of course, as soon as he landed as the center square on the Hollywood Squares, I couldn't wait for 11:30 every summer morning.  Who doesn't remember questions like this?

A friend from school tells me that I once answered a question in class with a Paul Lynde imitation.  I vehemently deny that this happened and attributed it to a bizarre uban legend.   In retrospect?  I'll admit today that it is highly possible.

Once I grew up a bit, my Paul Lynde fandom subsided a bit.  When I got to college, it was absolutely mandatory that it be reduced to minimal levels.  After all, you don't impress the opposite sex by walking up to them at a mixer and whining "how are ya."  I had moved on.

Or, so I thought...

Regular readers here have already heard tales of my days working at Fordham University's WFUV.  In my early days there, I needed to find a niche.  I didn't have the booming voice of an announcer or news anchor.  I didn't possess the verbal quickness to do play-by-play sports.  And I had yet to dream up my own radio situation comedy called "Diploma City."

Nope, I was still a little lost and looking for something to do that was uniquely Len.  I had an idea I pitched to the station news director.  I could do regular reports on television.  Yep, a radio guy reporting on TV.  Looking back, I really was probably the forerunner for "Entertainment Tonight."  I had the idea before they did.  And, for my sophomore year at WFUV, I was Mary Hart.  Well, sort of.

One of the things I did regularly as WFUV's ace "boob tube" correspondent was phone interviews with TV celebrities.  Back in those days, it was a lot easier to get a hold of these folks and book them to a chat that would be recorded.  I have previously written here about the wonderful time I spent conversing with Tony Randall, but there were others.  Art Fleming, the original host of "Jeopardy."  Karen Valentine, be still my heart.  Bob "Captain Kangaroo" Keeshan.  Alan Alda.  Ted Knight. 

Access to these people was amazingly easy.  You called their publicist and asked politely.  Usually, the rep would set up a time and give you a phone number, usually their dressing room or sometimes their home.  I remember the sounds of hammers and nails when I interviewed Karen Valentine.  Her then-husband was doing a kitchen renovation in the background.  Alan Alda was munching on potato chips and his wife asked for the car keys in the middle of our talk.

It was all so simple.

And, then one day, I read a small item in the New York Daily News.  A new feature-length cartoon was opening in New York.  And one of its voices was in town to promote it.

Paul Lynde.

Gulp.

Damn whatever classes I had that week.  I was bound and determined to book my former idol for a one-on-one.  I was a kid with a single focus.

Tracking Paul down, however, was not easy.  After many attempts, I finally got a hold of the movie publicist. 

"Mr. Lynde is very busy.  But I will see if I can squeeze you in."

More silence as I waited.  I called again.

"It's not looking good, young man.  Mr. Lynde is very, very busy."

Crap.

More silence as I waited some more.

"I've left a message at the Plaza Hotel where he's staying.  But I can tell you he is completely booked.  Sorry."

Sorry?  For what?  You just gave me a great idea.

The Plaza Hotel.  For a nano-second, I thought about camping out in the lobby and simply wait for him to swagger through the lobby.  But, in this case, I opted to be a little more professional.  I would try to call him myself.  In those days, the "do not disturb" feature had not found its way to very many hotel switchboards.

I gave my future phone call a long and hard think.  I rehearsed my quick thirty-second request for an interview.  No fuss, little muss.  I'd get to the point and expect a fast "yes" or "no."  That wasn't the tricky part.

How would I know when he would be in his hotel room?  I thought about my youth and how I would comb through each week's TV Guide to see when Paul was on the tube that week.  Hmmmm?

If this guy is as big a ham as I think he is, he's going to be in his room if he's set to guest on some show that week.  Sure enough, he was.  This meant I would be calling his room at 9PM but a determined reporter has to do what he has to do.

No sooner than fifteen seconds after the conclusion of the TV show, I hit the digits on the phone. 

"Mr. Paul Lynde's room, please."

The switchboard operator didn't flinch in connecting me.  The phone rang once.  Twice.  A third time.

Well, this idea was all wet, I thought. 

And then...

The voice was unmistakable.

"Heelllllllllllllo."

Bingo.

I ran through my thirty-second request in less than twenty.  I probably sounded like a raving lunatic to the renowned center square.  But, like the switchboard operator, Paul Lynde didn't flinch either.

"I'd be happy to do.  Call me here on Saturday at 1PM."

And that was it.  I had score some face/phone time with Paul Lynde.

My interview preparations were nothing short of David Frost's legendary session with President Richard Nixon.  When I looked down at the questions I had composed, I realized that I had gone into triple figures.  I needed to pare this down some.  Perhaps I shouldn't ask about his favorite brand of ketchup.   And I didn't really need to know the pre-sets on his car radio, did I?

Saturday at 1PM took forever to get there.  And, in some respects, it all happened too fast.  

I also began to wonder if Lynde had completely blown me off.  Maybe he wouldn't be there in his hotel room at 1PM.  I began to doubt the whole connection had ever happened.  I fully expected to have the telephone operator tell me "Mr. Lynde has checked out."

But, he hadn't.  I called promptly and he answered almost as quickly.  Nerves became an issue as I stumbled on the first question.  But, once I got my bearings, I moved the interview along and completed it in an efficient half-hour.  There were moments of pause when I could tell that the comic was taking on his cigarette.  This was even more noticeable when he begged off for a bit so he could have a coughing fit. 

Overall, Paul was very polite, respectful, and compliant.  As I look back, most of my queries were the softball-like questions that Larry King used to ask on CNN.  But, for me, this was sheer heaven.  Years after laughing hysterically with my grandmother as we listened to his latest Hollywood Squares zinger, I was actually an adult.  Talking to Paul Lynde like a professional.

A few years later, Lynde did a nightclub act that toured the country.  One of the stops was the Westbury Music Fair.  Of course, I was a ticket buyer.

Back in those days, it was not uncommon for stars to do an autograph signing in the lobby after such a show.  We queued up as did most of the patrons that night.  As we approached the table, I got a good look at Paul Lynde.

Dressed in a brightly colored caftan.  Frilly slippers.  And laughing like a school girl.

After all those times playing the "Bye Bye Birdie" cast album.  After all those years of fandom.  After that amazing phone interview. 

I finally got it.  A-ha.

Dinner last night:   Roast chicken at the Hollywood Bowl.