Here's Another Show I Am Binge Watching

 

If you're like me, you are sick to death of the dark and depressing TV shows being offered by the likes of Netflix and Apple.   Each one is more sinister than the next.  So, to keep my spirits up, I go and look for some vintage series.   It might be one I enjoyed as a kid.   Or perhaps I never watched it first run and I am discovering it years later.

The one I am binge watching right now is a show that I did watch in a much earlier decade.   I liked it then and, more importantly, I am liking it on a second viewing.

That would be "Family" which ran for about five years in the late 70s.   I remember feeling like an adult as I watched originally.   The cast and the writing and the production (run by genius Mike Nichols) was luminous.   Amazingly, it holds up forty years later.

It's the simple saga of the Lawrence family.  Two parents, three children (until they adopted a fourth), one grand child.  Each episode was one more week in their lives.   And it all was so special.

Through the Lawrence family, the writers were able to address all the social issues of the time.   Teen alcoholism.   A teacher who is a lesbian.  Child abuse.  Teen-age sex.   "Family" covered it all and did so brilliantly.   Everybody in the cast was on-point, but I want to call special attention to Sada Thompson as Mom and the amazing Kristy McNichol as Buddy.   

There is still good stuff on TV.   Just look at the program guides of those classic TV networks and you will most certainly cancel your Netflix subscription as soon as you can.

Bravo, "Family."

Dinner last night:  Chicken teriyaki bowl.

Monday Morning Video Laugh - September 29, 2025

This is one of those special moments from the sitcom "Good Times."  But it evokes laughs because of the reaction from the studio audience.  Norman Lear used to have people bussed in from the hood for his shows.   And they whoop and holler and talk over the actors.   Amazing.

Dinner last night:  Skirt steak at the Metropolitan Grill.

The Sunday Memory Drawer - Johnny Still the Best

 

With all the fervor this week about that shithead Jimmy Kimmel, my mind drifted back to the all time best in late night television.   Need I say who?

When I was a kid, I loved loved loved Fridays. Not only was school done for the week and the weekend of play was at hand, it was the one weeknight that my bedtime was not under Nazi control. Translation: I could stay up till all hours, as long as I kept the TV in my room and me quiet. Not an issue. I didn't want to do anything that might endanger my Friday night watching Johnny Carson and "The Tonight Show."

This was when late night talk shows were true entertainment. Spontaneous, funny, educational, always interesting. Nothing like the over-rehearsed publicist-driven offerings now hosted by Jay Leno and David Letterman. I made a pledge the day Johnny Carson said goodbye that I would never watch late night talk shows ever again. And, except for peaking at the usually clever first 15 minutes of David Letterman, I have held to that promise. I am very, very content in living with my memories of "The Tonight Show" when it really was "The Tonight Show."

I looked forward to those Friday nights with Johnny. What old friend would I get to see that evening? 

Tony Randall teaching us the origination of some obscure word. 

Suzanne Pleshette complaining about her husband. 

Pearl Bailey pulling Johnny out to join her in a soft shoe dance. 

Jimmy Stewart reading one of his poems, perhaps dedicated to the paper clip. 

Joan Embery from the San Diego Zoo putting some creature on top of Johnny's head. 

Don Rickles popping out to surprise Johnny during a Japanese bath. 

Maybe Carnak. Or Aunt Blabby. Or Art Fern. It was always a roll of the dice, but it almost always came up a winner for me.

Once I actually had to expand my viewership beyond Friday. In a much ballyhooed event, that crazy crooner Tiny Tim was going to actually get married on a "Tonight Show" episode airing on, gasp, a Monday (and school)night. This precipitated about three weeks of Kissinger-like negotiations with my mother to be allowed to stay up for the nuptuals. I had to commit to going to bed at 7:30PM for several hours, so that my eight hour plus sleep time would not be disrupted.

My love for "The Tonight Show" also provided me with my first-ever attendance as a member of a studio audience. Long, long ago, Johnny's gabfest was based in NC Studios at 30 Rockefeller Plaza. And the age limit for tickets was a very loose "15." I would send for tickets and then my friend Leo and I would truck down there for the 530PM taping. As soon as we got home, I would send for more tickets the very next day. I continued to do this for about four years. And we relished the 1230AM commercial break where they always showed the audience and we would clamor to see us enjoy that 15 nano-seconds of fame.

As I got older, I got to watch "The Tonight Show" a lot more than just Friday nights. And it was the ideal way to end a day of college or work. Because it was spontaneous. Television you will never ever see again. Whether it was a celebrity or maybe an animal, you didn't know what to expect.It's one show that I truly miss to this day. And now I go to bed on Friday nights at the same time I go every other night.

And I long for one more chance to stay up late with Johnny.  I made a vow to avoid late night TV after Johnny left and I have held to it.

Take that, Jimmy the Dirtbag.

Dinner last night:  Hot dog at the Mariner game.

Classic Movie Trailer of the Month - September 2025

 Fifty years old this month...Jeez!

Dinner last night:  Seattle Dog at T-Mobile Park.

Hollywood Then and Now - September 2025

Actually this is Westwood...my neighborhood.   Looking different, but, in some cases, still the same.

Dinner last night:  Dim sum at Din Tai Fung in Seattle.

Winning....and Losing

 

This pretty much sums up the new Netflix documentary about the life of Charlie Sheen.  During one of his drug and alcohol binges, he chose to celebrate one year of sobriety...by tapping a keg of beer.

Yeah, that's pretty much the tale here.  Over and over and over.  Don't get me wrong.   I'm glad he got his act together.   I do admit to snickering at his sitcom "Two and a Half Men."  But his life was pretty much fucked up and that started largely with his dad who probably thinks he really is the President of the United States.

There are a bunch of talking heads in this film, but be aware that both daddy Martin and brother Emilio declined to participate.   But, the main voice here is Charlie himself photographed in an empty diner.   He pulls no punches.   One binge after another.  He's fine until he's not.  You hear from friends and wives and Jon Cryer and producer Chuck Lorre.  The tale is compelling but oh, so repetitive.   As a result, it gets tired to listen to it all.

Of course, there's been great publicity about the secret that is revealed in the last twenty minutes.   Charlie is HIV-positive and that's because...wait for it...he's enjoyed sex with men.  And there you are.

What also bothers me about the documentary is that there are a lot of dramatic reenactments that confuse the viewer.  At the same time, there's also a lot of Super 8-filmed family memories that reinforce just how screwed up the Sheen...um, Estevez...family was and is.

For an interesting time waster, check it out.  

Or not.

LEN'S RATING:  Two-and-a-half stars  (I couldn't resist)

Dinner last night:  Honey chicken leftover from my freezer.

This Date in History - September 24

 

Happy birthday, 60 Minutes.  It keeps on ticking.

15:  ROMAN EMPEROR VITELLIUS IS BORN.

That greasy kid stuff?

1180:  MANUEL I KOMNENOS, LAST EMPEROR OF THE KOMNENIAN RESTORATION, DIES.  THE BYZANTINE EMPIRE SLIPS INTO TERMINAL DECLINE.

Just like everybody eventually.  Look at where America has fallen in 2014.

1664:  THE DUTCH REPUBLIC SURRENDERS NEW AMSTERDAM TO ENGLAND.

Who got Old Amsterdam?

1780:  BENEDICT ARNOLD FLEES TO BRITISH ARMY LINES WHEN THE ARREST OF BRITISH MAJOR JOHN ANDRE EXPOSES ARNOLD'S PLOT TO SURRENDER WEST POINT.

Oh, he's such a Benedict Arnold.

1789:  THE UNITED STATES CONGRESS PASSES THE JUDICIARY ACT WHICH CREATES THE OFFICE OF THE ATTORNEY GENERAL AND ORDERS THE COMPOSITION OF THE SUPREME COURT.

Still a waste to this day.

1841:  THE SULTAN OF BRUNEI CEDES SARAWAK TO THE UNITED KINGDOM.

Sarawak sounds like a lefty-hitting outfielder for the Milwaukee Braves.

1846:  DURING THE MEXICAN-AMERICAN WAR, GENERAL ZACHARY TAYLOR CAPTURES MONTERREY.

You mean Mexicans and Americans aren't still at war??

1853:  ADMIRAL DESPOINTES FORMALLY TAKES POSSESSION OF NEW CALEDONIA IN THE NAME OF FRANCE.

But what about Old Caledonia??

1869:  GOLD PRICES PLUMMET AFTER ULYSSES S. GRANT ORDERS THE TREASURY TO SELL LARGE QUANTITIES OF GOLD AFTER JAY GOULD AND JAMES FISK PLOT TO CONTROL THE MARKET.

The earliest version of the evil 1%.

1890:  THE CHURCH OF JESUS CHRIST OF LATTER-DAY SAINTS OFFICIALLY RENOUNCES POLYGAMY.

Sorry, Wives #2 through 6.

1896:  AUTHOR F. SCOTT FITZGERALD IS BORN.

He's buying first round.

1921:  SPORTSCASTER JIM MCKAY IS BORN.

He died in 2008.  He was gone.  He was all gone.

1921:  ACTRESS SHEILA MACRAE IS BORN.

Still not Alice Kramden.

1931:  SINGER ANTHONY NEWLEY IS BORN.

Stop the world.  He wants to get on.

1932:  GANDHI AND DR. B.R. AMBEDKAR AGREE TO THE POONA PACT, WHICH RESERVES SEATS IN THE INDIAN LEGISLATURE FOR THE DEPRESSED CLASSES.

Of which, in India, there are many.

1935:  EARL BASCOM AND WELDON BASCOM PRODUCE THE FIRST RODEO EVER HELD OUTDOORS UNDER ELECTRIC LIGHTS IN MISSISSIPPI.

Yee-ha.

1936:  PUPPETEER JIM HENSON IS BORN.

And, hence, it's also the birth date of Kermit.

1946:  CLARK CLIFFORD AND GEORGE ELSEY, MILITARY ADVISERS TO U.S. PRESIDENT HARRY S. TRUMAN, PRESENT WITH A TOP SECRET REPORT ON THE SOVIET UNION.

If this happened today, it would be leaked on Entertainment Tonight.

1948:  THE HONDA MOTOR COMPANY IS FOUNDED.

So how come I never heard of them until the 80s?

1948:  ACTOR PHIL HARTMAN IS BORN.

I was three blocks away from where he was shot and killed in 1998.

1957:  PRESIDENT DWIGHT EISENHOWER SENDS TROOPS TO LITTLE ROCK, ARKANSAS, TO ENFORCE DESEGREGATION.

So he didn't just golf?

1962:  UNITED STATES COURT OF APPEALS ORDERS THE UNIVERSITY OF MISSISSIPPI TO ADMIT JAMES MEREDITH.

My father was the one who allowed me to go to Fordham.

1968:  60 MINUTES DEBUTS ON CBS.

Hi, I'm Morley Safer...

1969:  THE NEW YORK METS WIN THE NATIONAL LEAGUE EASTERN DIVISION TITLE.

"At 9:07......."

1979:  COMPUSERVE LAUNCHES THE FIRST CONSUMER INTERNET SERVICE AND THE FIRST E-MAIL SERVICE.

So what was the very first spam?

1991:  AUTHOR DR. SEUSS DIES.

The Cat in the Casket.

2005:  HURRICANE RITA MAKES LANDFALL IN THE UNITED STATES.

And creates lots of landfill.

Dinner last night:  Leftover chicken tenders.

Cry Me a River

 

Are you okay?   Can I get you anything?  Do you want to cry on my shoulder?

This is what I want to ask my friends who are absolutely devastated by the firing of Jimmy Kimmel from his late night perch.   Here is apparently one more move fostered by Donald Trump in his ongoing threat to create the Fourth Reich.  I'm guessing some of my sad friends didn't even watch Kimmel.  But his right to free speech is being challenged and it gives my Trump-hating brethren another reason to seethe as they get out of bed each morning.

Oh, fucking please.   

Okay, let's get the obvious out of the way.   The "joke" that Jimmy said which led to his dismissal was stupid, inappropriate, and, most of all, not funny.  Does he have a right to say it?   Of course.  But so did Roseanne Barr have a right to speak the stupid comment she uttered that got her bounced from "The Conners" sitcom.  By the way, she lost her gig mainly because the magical couple called the Obamas complained.

Uh huh.  You see how this works.   Freedom of speech is really a one-way street.

So, while Jimmy Kimmel is now being revered like Jesus Christ complete with the wound on the side from the centurion's spear, I can add another perspective.  You see, I've always known a lot about what goes on at his joke.  My ex-trainer used to work there.   Her brother-in-law was the musical director.  Her good friend was on the writing staff.   These connections gave me a perspective like no other.  And, from it all, I have one conclusion.

Jimmy Kimmel is a shithead.

So you want to know about this bastion of free speech?

He fired anybody on staff who wouldn't get a COVID vaccine.

He queried his musicians as to how they recently voted.   If you went Republican, you lost your job.

The Writers Guild made a very public statement regarding Kimmel's right to free speech.  This was amusing to me since several writers filed grievances with the union for wrongful termination.

Wait.  There's more.  

A cute girl got hired to be the writers' room assistant.   Jimmy very quickly was fucking her.  And that led to her elevation to Head Writer.   Oh, and he ultimately married her.   This is ironic to the staff since they were all waiting for Jimmy to get snared by the #MeToo movement.   Yes, they were all waiting for harassment charges that apparently got bought out.

Oh, and after he would go through some of his reigns of terror with the staff, he would blame it on his narcoleptic condition.  

Uh huh.

Free speech.   Jimmy has a right.   So do I.  

PS, ABC is allegedly giving him another chance.  Too bad.   Roseanne Barr, please note.

Dinner last night:  Coconut chicken tenders.

Monday Morning Video Laugh - September 22, 2025

 Studying multiple languages...Lucy style.

Dinner last night:  Leftover Chinese noodles.

The Sunday Memory Drawer - Remembering a Day at the Car Wash

 

This used to be my car wash.  It was located right down the block from my old apartment.  It closed in April 2020 right when COVID started to spiral.  In fact, that was why they closed.   Three of the workers got sick and died.   To this day, the building still stands as is.  Just empty.

I used to enjoy my trips there.   You never knew who you would and what you would hear.  Every so often, there was a celebrity in the midst.  Ellen Degeneres with a really crappy Toyota Corolla.  Diane Lane working hard not to make eye contact.  Greg Kinnear working very hard to get recognized.  And Della Reese advising some Mexican on how to correctly wipe down her church bus.

This car wash also got some screen time many years ago.  Located virtually next door to the 20th Century-Fox lot, it was used for a major slapstick scene in the Doris Day movie "Move Over Darling."  Back in 1963, the car wash looks eerily like it does today.  Except, as far as I know, Doris Day is no longer covered with soap suds.

But, even with these Hollywood connections, my car wash visits were usually nondescript.  In and out.  Quiet time for me, even if I am trying to make eye contact with Diane Lane.

Except one Saturday.  

It all started so innocently.  My Toyota Highlander had gone through the machine.  The super-short illegal immigrant had moved my seat as far up as possible as he drove it to the spot where he would be performing all his post-car wash obligations.  I was standing quietly alongside a wall.  Sipping a Diet Pepsi.  And, then.....

"So, what kind of gas mileage you get out of that Highlander Hybrid?"

A STRANGER WAS TRYING TO ENGAGE ME IN CONVERSATION.

I probably should have gone into Marlee Matlin mode and feigned deafness.  But, in one of my life's mistakes, I didn't.  I told him that a hybrid isn't everything it's cracked up to be.  

The floodgates opened.

"I have a car that's twelve years old and it's still running like a top."

"My mechanic has all the parts for my car and he says I could keep driving it for years."

"I'd never buy anything that didn't have at least eight cylinders."

"I like to hear my engine when I'm driving.  Those Hybrids don't make noise."

I had yet to even turn to my right to look at this guy.  I was afraid to.  The eye contact that Diane Lane had so carefully avoided would be devastating here.

"My wife likes the subcompacts.  I won't drive one.  My legs are too long."

"Boy, September sure does get hot in Los Angeles."

Ah, a subject change.

"How does the AC work in your Hybrid?"

Okay, not quite.

"They say the heat wave will break by the end of next week, but those guys on TV are just guessing."

"Probably start up a bunch of fires.  Most of them are arson."

As if on cue, a fire truck sped by.

"Those trucks are beautiful.  I once got to watch them take one apart."

"Those engines are something else.  Amazing piece of machinery."

"I bet they'll be electrically powered at some point."

The conversation was making a complete circle.  He was making a point with all his pointlessness.  Meanwhile, I kept staring at the kid wiping down my car and I wondered if somebody with a chamois cloth could work any slower.

"We've got some big elections coming up."

Okay, the aforementioned circle was not unbroken.

"It will be interesting to see how the tea party does.  People are really fed up with Obama."

Pedro, come on, there's no need to empty out the ash trays.  I don't smoke.

"I think it's going to be close between Meg Whitman and Jerry Brown for Governor."

Where are you, Lord?!

At last, a wave of the towel.  My car was pronounced fit to leave.  And I was none too ready.

"Okay, nice talking with you."

I had said less than two sentences to the man.  He has a very low threshold on how he defines a conversation.

I waved politely.  Walking away, I knew exactly how Diane Lane felt.  Please don't look at me.  And definitely don't say a word.

Despite this encounter, I still miss this car wash.

Dinner last night:  Beef night noodles from Chin Chin.

Classic TV Theme Song of the Month - September 2025

This premiered 60 years ago this month and ran for just one season.   Boy, Sally Field is old. .

Dinner last night:  Sandwich.

Len's Jukebox of the Month - September 2025

This was arguably one of my mother's favorite songs.   Played over and over and over on our record player.

Dinner last night:  Sandwich.

Saving the Day

 

Timing is everything.

Now the last installment of the "Downton Abbey" franchise was scheduled to be released last weekend over a year ago.  Who know that this would be the most perfect timing in movie release history?   At the end of a week where America desperately needed a breath of fresh air, "Downton Abbey - The Grand Finale" provided us all with a release.   Hope.  A respite from the nasty world around us.

I'm a big Downton fan from the seasons on television and the first two films that it spawned.   I was not looking forward to the final film, but seeing it now, I can tell you that it is the most perfect conclusion to this tale featuring a potpourri of fabulously drawn characters.  Even without the late Maggie Smith whose character died at the end of the second movie, there is plenty of juice in the tent.

All of Downton comes from the luminous writer Julian Fellowes who wrote every single word of the TV series and the film.  His storytelling was always exquisite.  And, in this conclusion, he was mindful to give every single character a moment in the spotlight.  No stone was left unturned.  Nobody was given short shrift.  These people are all old friends.  We will never see the likes of them again.   But the wonderful memories will be held in our minds forever.

The final five minutes of the film capture every emotion you are feeling at the time.  I began to cry.   

Yep, those tears of mine meant the film was that good.

Bravo, one and all.  And thank you for saving the psyche of so many Americans.

LEN'S RATING:  Four stars.

Dinner last night:  Sandwich.

This Date in History - September 17

 

Happy birthday, John Franco.   You saved a lot of Met games.  So how come I only remember the ones you blew?

456:  ROMAN GENERAL REMISTUS IS BESIEGED WITH A GOTHIC FORCE AT RAVENNA AND LATER EXECUTED.

I would be remist not mentioning this today.

1176:  THE BATTLE OF MYRIOKEPHALON IS FOUGHT.

Sounds like something you take when you comedown with Myrio.

1462:  THE BATTLE OF SWIECINO IS FOUGHT DURING THE THIRTEEN YEARS' WAR. 

Included here for no reason other than to mention I have no clue what the Thirteen Year's War was fought over.

1630:  THE CITY OF BOSTON IS FOUNDED.

I guess it had to start some time.

1683:  ANTONIE VAN LEEUWENHOEK WRITES A LETTER TO THE ROYAL SOCIETY AND INCLUDES THE FIRST KNOWN DESCRIPTION OF PROTOZOA.

As if anybody is antitozoa.

1775:  DURING THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION, THE INVASION OF CANADA BEGINS.

Why bother now?   Winter is coming.

1787:  THE UNITED STATES CONSTITUTION IS SIGNED IN PHILADELPHIA.

And now it's not worth the parchment it was written on.

1814:  FRANCIS SCOTT KEY FINISHES HIS POEM "DEFENCE OF FORT MCHENRY," LATER TO BE THE LYRICS OF THE "STAR SPANGLED BANNER."

What so proudly we hail.

1849:  ABOLITIONIST HARRIET TUBMAN ESCAPES FROM SLAVERY.

But she's no Steve McQueen.

1859:  JOSHUA A. NORTON DECLARES HIMSELF "NORTON 1, EMPEROR OF THE US."

We should have had the Norton Anti-Virus.

1862:  DURING THE AMERICAN CIVIL WAR, GEORGE MCCLELLAN HALTS THE NORTHWARD DRIVE OF ROBERT E. LEE'S CONFEDERATE ARMY IN THE BATTLE OF ANTIETAM, THE BLOODIEST DAY IN AMERICAN MILITARY HISTORY.

Take that, Vietnam.

1904:  ACTOR JERRY COLONNA IS BORN.

Hey, Hope!

1908:  THE WRIGHT FLYER FLOWN BY ORVILLE WRIGHT WITH LIEUTENANT THOMAS SELFRIDGE AS PASSENGER, CRASHES KILLING SELFRIDGE.   HE BECOMES THE FIRST AIRPLANE FATALITY.

Well, the count had to start some time.

1916:  DURING WORLD WAR I, MANFRED VON RICHTHOFEN (THE RED BARON" WINS HIS FIRST AERIAL COMBAT.

My money's on Snoopy.

1928:  ACTOR RODDY MCDOWALL IS BORN.

I just realized that the spelling was not "McDowell."

1931:  ACTRESS ANNE BANCROFT IS BORN.

Mrs. Mel Brooks to you.

1939:  DURING WORLD WAR II, A GERMAN U-BOAT U 29 SINKS THE BRITISH AIRCRAFT CARRIER HMS COURAGEOUS.

Yeah, not so much.

1940:  DURING WORLD WAR II, FOLLOWING THE GERMAN DEFEAT IN THE BATTLE OF BRITAIN, HITLER POSTPONES OPERATION SEA LION INDEFINITELY.

Reset.

1945:  BASKETBALL PLAYER/COACH PHIL JACKSON IS BORN.

Two points.

1957:  MALAYSIA JOINS THE UNITED NATIONS.

Yeah, I still wouldn't fly their airline.

1960:  BASEBALL STAR JOHN FRANCO IS BORN.

No walks, please.

1978:  THE CAMP DAVID ACCORDS ARE SIGNED BY ISRAEL AND EGYPT.

Yeah, that worked well.

1983:   VANESSA WILLIAMS BECOMES THE FIRST BLACK MISS AMERICA.

What nude photos?

1996:  POLITICIAN SPIRO AGNEW DIES. 

Almost exactly 23 years after his political career did.

1997:  COMIC RED SKELTON DIES.

Two seagulls......

2001:  THE NEW YORK STOCK EXCHANGE REOPENS FOR TRADING AFTER THE SEPTEMBER 11 ATTACKS, THE LONGEST CLOSURE SINCE THE GREAT DEPRESSION.

I remember it so vividly.

2006:  PATRICIA KENNEDY LAWFORD DIES. 

No conspiracy theory needed.  Natural causes.

2011:  THE OCCUPY WALL STREET MOVEMENT BEGINS.

Some haven't bathed since.

2013:  BUSINESSMAN EIJI TOYODA DIES.

Death.  You got it.  Toyoda.

2019:  JOURNALIST COKIE ROBERTS DIES.

Wonder if she had a sister named Pepsi?

Dinner last night:  Leftover SPO.

The United States of Mean

 

Truer words were never spoken.   

Okay, did I know a lot about Charlie Kirk?  Nope, but I did know that he had quite the following with younger America.   He apparently galvanized the young adult vote for Trump in the last election.  Of course, that connection alone had the kid ostracized for life.

Whether you agreed with this political stance or not, Charlie Kirk had a right...in this democracy...to say what he wanted to say.   None of it was vile or out and out hatred.   He took a smart and mannered approach to this dastardly two-party country.

He didn't deserve to "catch" a bullet as his assassin wrote on one of the bullet casings.  But he did.    Charlie and the shooter.   Two lives that never should have been intertwined but they were.  And will be for eternity.

It took less than 24 hours for this event to become politically divisive in our disgusting nation.  

"Charlie deserved to die."

"Good riddance."

'Fascist."

That last word has become the most widely used word in America these days.  We don't like what you say?  You must be a fascist.  This comes from people who have no clue whatsoever what true fascism is.  Their barometer for its use comes from the leaders of a political party.   Some of our elected officials use it.   Most of the droids in mainstream news media use it.

And so do, apparently, some of my own friends on Facebook.  Oh, they might temper their messages by displaying some sadness for Kirk's wife and toddler children.  But the end of their social media opinion remains the same.

"Charlie deserved to die."

"Good riddance."

'Fascist."

I am ashamed of some of my friends.  I tolerate everybody's political viewpoint whether I agree or not.  But, still, people...

Are we that angry?  Are we that uncaring?  Are we that stupid?

I hang my head as I consider the very easy answer to these questions.

Dinner last night:  Sandwich.

Monday Morning Video Laugh - September 15, 2025

Another new TV season and still no variety shows with the spontaneity of Carol Burnett.

Dinner last night:  Sausage, peppers, and onions.

The Sunday Memory Drawer - Is That Damn September Back Again?

 

You start to see the tell-tale signs around the middle of August.  When you're playing your nightly baseball game on the local vacant lot, it seems a little darker a little earlier.

While the hot and humid days often continue, you occasionally get an afternoon where, out of nowhere, cool breezes blow through your kitchen window.  The window fan is spinning and it's not even turned on.

And, worst of all, there are posters and billboards all over the place that promote...gasp...the Jerry Lewis Labor Day Telethon.

For those of us in Mount Vernon, New York, this meant only one thing.

It would soon be back to school.  

And the fall season is arriving.

You'd see dead kids walking all over my neighborhood.  Freedom was waning.  The yearly ritual would begin anew.

I'd get dragged down to the Fourth Avenue shopping district by my mother.  We'd blow through the boys' clothing department at Genung's Department Store.  She'd try to guess what the smart fourth-grader would be wearing this season.

Sometimes it was turtlenecks built into sweaters.  Or pants that were bell bottoms.  Or, during the years I had to do so at Washington Junior High School, an assortment of ties.  

"We'll get you some of those clip-on ties so you don't have to worry about tying one after gym class."

As well-meaning as this gesture was, a clip-on tie was deadly.  If some kids saw you wearing one of those, they'd love to pull it off as you were moving in the hallway from class to class.

It wasn't often that I'd look at my neighborhood friends and envy that they all went to Catholic school.  Their wardrobe was always a standard uniform.  Crappy looking colors, for sure, but a life less complicated.  

Back at home, the end of summer found my grandmother in her rhubarb garden.  She'd cut down the remaining stalks in bulk and then cook them up for the freezer, ensuring that she'd have plenty of pie filling for Thanksgiving and Christmas.  Meanwhile, she'd watch the commercials ballyhooing the upcoming Jerry Lewis fundraiser.

"That thing is on too damn long.  Who can watch all that?"

Well, Grandma, it's a telethon.  It's supposed to be long.

"There's never anybody good on."

On this, there was no argument.  While the ads promised big stars, I'd always tune in and find comedian Morty Gunty.  Who, you say?  Exactly, I say.

"This is boring.  All Jerry Lewis is doing is asking for money."

Well, that is the point of any telethon, Grandma.  She'd eventually shake her arms at the television set and switch over to some game show hosted by Bill Cullen.

Upstairs in our end of the house, my mother wouldn't on the telethon until the very last hour.  She wanted to be there when Jerry would sing "You'll Never Walk Alone" and eventually break down into sobs.  One year, though, Mom was working in Manhattan for the accounting firm that audited Muscular Dystrophy.  She actually had to work there and had a very soft spot for Jerry Lewis after that.  
"There's a secret reason why Jerry does this every year."

I asked my mother, the insider, what it was.

"I can't.  It's a secret."

Hmmm.  To this day, I have no clue whether my mom really did know.

In my room of the house on a nightly basis, there was another annual ritual going on.  The fated re-adjustment of bedtime.  Getting set to go to bed earlier on school nights.  Naturally, this was not welcomed.  I had become accustomed to later hours.  On summer Sunday nights, I could be up all the way to 11PM so I could watch "Candid Camera" and "What's My Line?"  But, for the school year, it had to be much earlier.  Except, as I got older, later times on selected nights would be open to negotiation.  

I'd have to first do some research before I plead my case.  This involved the annual TV Guide Fall Preview issue which was always long awaited in my world.  I'd keep going down to Bob's Luncheonette and Newsstand on First Street every day to see if it had arrived yet.   There was one year where I got there in time to watch Bob actually cut open the package that contained my Bible.

I'd run home with the gold and spend hours with it, reading about all the new TV shows, the changes to my returning favorites, and, most importantly, the prime time schedule grid.

Similar to the plans that they likely used to storm the beaches at Normandy during World War II, this schedule would allow me to pick which school nights I needed to stay up all the way to 10PM.

Monday night was a given.  CBS had all the best shows on there.  And, even though Andy Griffith eventually got moved earlier, there was always something at 930PM that I wanted to see.  

But choosing the second night had to be done carefully and strategically.  Sometimes, the TV networks moved shows around so I had to really know this schedule by heart.  I'd eventually decide on a second day for a later bedtime and then provide my argument to the judge AKA my mother.  

The good news is that, once she went back to work at nights just like my dad, my grandmother was the ultimate TV and bedtime custodian.

Which means I was up at 10PM almost every night, as we gleefully watched "our shows" together.

You'd trudge back to school on the first day, worrying that this year was going to be the toughest of all.  Perhaps kids a year ahead had warned you.  Going into the fifth grade, we heard bad things in advance of our new instructor, Mrs. Lillian C. Ian.   She's an ogre.  She's a troll that lives under a bridge.  Two children went into her homeroom last year and never came out.

We soon discovered that none of that was true.  And, while Mrs. Lillian C. Ian was tough, it was a rewarding experience.  And nobody disappeared.

You spent your first school days, surveying all the new expectations and assignments with trepidation.  How would you get this all done?  How hard does this look?  How the heck am I going to do all this homework and still watch my TV shows?

Somehow, we all managed.  And, if you went to a public school in Mount Vernon, New York, you got a wonderful bonus usually the first or second week of September.

Since most of the teachers in our school system back then were Jewish, we got off for both Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.  Summer didn't leave completely after all.

I'd enjoy the time off but look longingly around my neighborhood.

Crickets.

That's the problem of having all Catholic friends.  They'd be off for things like All Saints Day and the Feast of Saint Whoever.  Me?  I was off for three days in September.  All by myself.

I'd go up to my room and open the now dog-eared edition of TV Guide's Fall Preview.  Gee, what did I miss the first dozen times that I had read it?

Dinner last night:  Chicken caesar wrap at Ipic.

Classic Newsreel of the Month - September 2025

 Any bets whether she is still alive...70 years later.

Dinner last night:  Pineapple fruit salad.

Len's Lens

 

More photos that were better off being undeveloped. Take, for instance, the one above. Er, the guy in the green gym shorts. What exactly is going on with him at this very moment?

She always gets into his head.

It might be me, but I always love a good nun-on-stilts act.

Yeeeesh! Does Eddie Bauer even carry pants with that length?

Something borrowed, something blue, something stinks, is it you?

Have we told lately that we have a pool? No, really, have we? Because we do. We have a pool. Really. A pool.

Why do I think that Dad doesn't necessarily stop with churros?

Dinner last night:  Fasting for a procedure.

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.