Don't Make Me Laugh

 

And he never did.   But, then again, I never really gave Stephen Colbert the opportunity to entertain me.   

A friend texted me the other day to get my opinion on Colbert's last moments on the air which was an homage to the snow globe series finale of "St. Elsewhere."   I told my friend that I was proud to announce that I never saw a single moment of this series.  Ever.  I had made a commitment to Johnny Carson when he retired and I pretty much kept to it.

Of course, I would have little interest in what Colbert has been peddling.   At the end of the day, I don't want to hear bashing of politicians from either party.   I want to smile and laugh at inane things like Carnac and Stump the Band.  All these late night hosts have gotten so politically-focused and, as a by-product, much less funny or entertaining.

Now, if you go by my Facebook page, the majority of my friends bid a tearful farewell to Colbert.  As did most of the mainstream media.   It's not about the end of a TV show that was losing money and ratings by the bucket full.   It was all about Trump-bashing and how Colbert was the victim.   

Here's a little TV math.  When Carson went off the air in 1992, he was reaching 14 million people.   Colbert's audience level towards the end?  2 million.   And sinking.   The longer a show stays on the air, talent contracts and fees increase geometrically.  So there is less income and more outgoing money.   It's the reason Johnny left and the same goes for Colbert.

But everybody wants to think this was a Trump edict.  If everybody who lamented the end of Colbert did indeed watch regularly, his audience wouldn't have dwindled down to nothing.   The same folks are now pledging to never turn on CBS ever again.   Again more Trump hysteria.   If people found out Trump's grandfather invented the toilet bowl, these nuts would probably resort to squatting and shitting in the front yard.

Hey, that's a funny joke.   If Colbert had told one like it, he may have lasted longer.

Dinner last night:  Leftover Honey Chicken.

Monday Morning Video Laugh - May 25, 2026

The month of May concludes with one last Johnny Carson animal segment.  What a dump!

Dinner last night:  Ribeye steak and sauteed mushrooms.

The Sunday Memory Drawer - Remembering Memorial Day

 

Here's a snapshot of my grandmother with her winter coat on.  Trust me.  This might have been taken at a Memorial Day barbecue. 

Or maybe, more than likely, the Fourth of July.  My grandmother would not be smiling on Memorial Day.  She took that day very seriously.

Take, for instance, this one particular May holiday.  I had been invited by a new school chum to take in a doubleheader at Yankee Stadium.  I was over the moon with delight.  His family came to pick me up and I raced out of the house.  To do so, I had to scamper right through Grandma's part of the home downstairs.

"Where are you running like a crazy lunatic?"

I explained.  Baseball.  A doubleheader.   Hot dogs.  Peanuts.  Exactly what America should do on a national holiday.

"But it's Memorial Day.  You should stay home."

Huh?

Well, I didn't.  And her words bothered me all day.  I was twelve and still trying to put together the pieces of my family history.  Years later, I still have not.

We didn't talk much about it in the house.  The fact that my grandparents had sent four sons off to serve in the military during World War II and only three returned.  Three of my dad's brothers saw action.  My father fought gallantly with a Royal typewriter while stationed in an Army office somewhere in Japan.  One brother was killed exactly two weeks before V-E Day in 1945.  I was named after him.   We discussed him in this blog space before.  I've shared the sum total of information I have about him.

Yep, we almost never talked about it.

I'd ask questions of my parents and, when not reminded that I asked too many of them, got sparse information about the family member still buried in the south of France.  But, my grandmother?   Never said a word.   Oh, his name might have come up in anecdotes about the past.  But we never had a serious discussion about his loss. 

His purple heart hung in her living room.  I've seen the papers from the War Department.  I still have them in a file cabinet.  But they are just typed sentences on a now-yellowed page.  There's no emotion shown in them.   There was little emotion shown in our house. 

But, indeed, it came out in different ways.  Most notably in how my grandmother treated the sanctity of this one holiday.

Looking back, Grandma and Grandpa came from Germany probably around 1905 or 1910.  They were proud to be here in this country.  Who knows what their life must have been like over there?  But they came to America to make themselves a better life and they worked hard to do so.  Unlike the immigrants of 2014, my grandparents did their part to become true Americans.  They learned to speak English.  My grandfather could eventually read and write it.  Grandma would ultimately only be able to sign her name.

But they were Americans.   And, in little ways, I would hear how my grandmother loved the military that defended this homeland.

I'd hear it whenever there was a state funeral of some dignitary on television.  Grandma would look at the pallbearers.

"Those poor boys.  Having to carry that heavy thing up those stairs."

I'd hear it when she'd come in and I had commandeered her TV set for my own use.  I'd be watching some war movie or show.

"Turn that off.  We don't wanna see what happens to those poor boys."

Over and over and over again.   It was "those poor boys."

For years when I was a kid, Memorial Day was celebrated on May 30 without fail.  But, naturally, government workers stuck in their two cents and wanted a long weekend.  The holiday was changed to the last Monday of May.  Grandma was incensed.

"It should be May 30.  But everybody wants a free vacation.  They forget about those poor boys."

I wanted to know about one of those poor boys.  But it never was discussed.  I envision in retrospect that the days and years after 1945 had to be hard for my grandparents.  I remember one Memorial Day when Grandma actually hung in her living room window the little banner that showed our family had four people fighting in the war.  It likely hung in their Bronx window back during World War II.  She inexplicably displayed it again.   I never knew why. 

And, of course, my question was likely never answered.

Yes, Memorial Day was serious business for my grandparents.  And, as I sat at that Yankee Stadium doubleheader slurping up all sorts of ballpark treats, I wondered just what was behind it all.  I had still gone to the game that day.  And violated the sanctity of Memorial Day.

But, of course, not before I helped Grandma with the traditional national holiday ritual.

Our flag.

I've written this before, but it bears repeating in light of another Memorial Day and a memory about my grandparents.  You see, we had this flagpole in our front yard.

Do you know how to correctly fold an American flag?  Well, I do.

And it was my grandmother who taught me how.  And, on Memorial Day or Veteran's Day, it was on that flagpole in front of the house.

Yes, my grandparents were that American.

Our big honking flag pole was cemented right in the middle of the front yard. It actually stretched past our apartment on the second floor. It was as big as any you might find in front of the most important of Federal buildings. But it was all ours. Right there where my grandmother could easily see it from her first floor living room window.   

Early in the morning of every national holiday,  I would hear the hallway closet downstairs creak open. I'd envision the boxes being moved this way or that. The smell of mothballs would waft up to the second floor.   

Yep, Grandma was rooting around for the American flag again.

I'd walk around the neighborhood and not see a lot of the same patriotism on these holidays. Certainly, not an American flag being hoisted up a huge pole at the crack of dawn. But, that's what my grandparents did like clockwork.  After my grandfather died, I could no longer exist in mere passive curiosity.   

"You gonna help me now."

Okay, Grandma. I figured it was only going to be a slight diversion to my day of play. Yet, I had no idea how seriously she took this ceremony. The way in which the flag was unfolded. How it was handled with the utmost of care.

And, at the end of the day, the precise folding of the banner. Military style. To the strictest of code. My first few attempts did not go well.

"No, no, no. Not that way. This way!"

The words had a sharp tone. Grandma meant business with this. And I was treating it all like Gomer Pyle, USMC. 

 After a while, I got it. And we responded on every holiday. Grandma and I got into a neat rhythm when it was time to put the flag away. We did it as flawlessly as we could. Moreover, we did it with the proper amount of respect.

Several years later, I asked my father about that tradition. What was I missing? What was behind the flag ceremony?   

"Well, you do know that's the flag that covered your uncle's casket?"

Another small tidbit floating in the Ocean of No Information.  Oh. In this recent picture of that house years after I left it, the flagpole stands as tall as ever.

So, tomorrow is Memorial Day.  May the 25th.  Grandma would be unhappy one more time.  

What I will do to make her a little happy is my annual visit to see all the flags at Veterans Cemetery in Westwood.

I may linger a little longer over the flags.  And think again about my grandmother.  And the holiday she held so dear.  For reasons I still can only guess about.

Dinner last night:  Honey chicken at Chin Chin.

Classic Movie Trailer of the Month - May 2026

 Egads!  This movie came out forty years ago this month!

Dinner last night:  Grilled sausage.

Creepy Is As Creepy Does

 

What happens when you give birth on the Food Network.

 Don't you want to see them five seconds after the photo was taken?

Surprisingly, Dad is a professional barber.

Saran Wrap must have been on sale.

The kid's not fond of the new Pope.

I'm surprised they didn't include a photo of the conception.

And, in the role of Judas Iscariot....Uncle Moe.

No wonder they lost the West.

 That boy smells something.

 Can you buy some clothes with that EBT card?

Hair styles by Tupperware.

Nobody wanted to pose with this ugly thing.  And neither did Alf.

Dinner last night:   Leftover meat loaf.

Len's Recipe of the Month - May 2026

 

As I follow several YouTube-based chefs, I have learned that you can be adventurous as you finetune your culinary skills.   That's how I came up with the dish above.   It's essentially called Mediterranean Chicken, but that's a big catch-all phrase.   You could call it Chicken Len because I took several recipes and merged them together.   

I started with four boneless and skinless chicken thighs.   That's the part of the fowl that you want to use most of the time because it's got the most flavor.   Oh, and you can never overcook it to sheer dryness.   

So, I cut the thighs up into smaller pieces and tossed them into a bowl with some salt, pepper, and garlic powder.   On top, I sprinkled some flour but not to excess amount.

In a Dutch oven or pan, I melted some butter and mixed it with EVO.   When hot, I added the chicken and browned the pieces.   This took about 8 minutes.   I moved the chicken to a plate.

Back to the cooking apparatus, I caramelized a sliced sweet onion.   Then, I added a half jar of pitted Kalamata olives.   Then some drained capers.   Then a pint of cherry tomatoes.    Lastly, I poured in a half cup of white wine.

I covered the Dutch oven and let it simmer for a half hour.   Some sweet corn on the side.

Done.   And I did it all by myself.

The cooking lesson this month?   Use your skills to make every dish your own.\\

Dinner last night:  Grilled sausage with bacon.

This Date in History - May 20

 

Happy birthday, Cher.   And what better way to celebrate than to spotlight your acting triumph in "Moonstruck."

325:  THE FIRST ECUMENICAL COUNCIL OF THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH IS HELD IN NICEA.  

Meetings in the morning.  Golf in the afternoon.

526:  AN EARTHQUAKE KILLS ABOUT 250,000 PEOPLE IN WHAT IS NOW SYRIA AND ANTIOCHIA.

Now that's an earthquake.

794: KING ETHELBERHT II OF EAST ANGLIA VISITS THE ROYAL MERCIAN COURT AT SUTTON WALLS, WITH A VIEW TO MARRYING A PRINCESS.  HE IS TAKEN CAPTIVE AND BEHEADED.

I prefer to wait for Queen Ethelmertz I.

1293:  KING SANCHO IV OF CASTILE CREATES THE STUDY OF GENERAL SCHOOLS OF ALCALA.

Sounds like some gut courses to me.

1498:  PORTUGUESE EXPLORER VASCO DA GAMA DISCOVERS THE SEA ROUTE TO INDIA.

For you three who want to go there.

1521:  IGNATIUS LOYOLA IS SERIOUSLY WOUNDED IN THE BATTLE OF PAMPELUNA.

Didn't this guy Loyola open up a lot of colleges?

1609:  SHAKESPEARE'S SONNETS ARE FIRST PUBLISHED IN LONDON.

When do we see the Cliff Notes?

1775:  THE MECKLENBURG DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE IS SIGNED IN NORTH CAROLINA.

Doesn't Mecklenburg sound like one of those countries in a Marx Brothers movie?

1802:  NAPOLEON BONAPARTE REINSTATES SLAVERY IN THE FRENCH COLONIES, REVOKING ITS ABOLITION IN THE FRENCH REVOLUTION.

I guess that's Shorty's version of an executive action.

1861:  DURING THE CIVIL WAR, THE STATE OF KENTUCKY PROCLAIMS ITS NEUTRALITY, WHICH WILL LAST UNTIL SEPTEMBER 3.   MEANWHILE, THE STATE OF NORTH CAROLINA SECEDES FROM THE UNION.

Why do I think this kind of stuff will happen again?

1862:  US PRESIDENT ABRAHAM LINCOLN SIGNS THE HOMESTEAD ACT INTO LAW.

Pitch your tent here.

1873:  LEVI STRAUSS AND JACOB DAVIS RECEIVE A US PATENT FOR BLUE JEANS WITH COPPER RIVETS.

So that's how they got there.

1883:  KRAKATOA BEGINS TO ERUPT.  THE VOLCANO EXPLODES THREE MONTHS LATER.

From the movie title, I know this is "east of Java."  Or was it West?   Who does remember that film anyway?

1891:  THE FIRST PUBLIC DISPLAY OF THOMAS EDISON'S PROTOTYPE KINETOSCOPE.

Two on the aisle please.

1899:  THE FIRST TRAFFIC TICKET IN THE US --- NYC CAB DRIVER JACOB GERMAN WAS ARRESTED FOR SPEEDING WHILE DRIVING 12 MILES PER HOUR.

He probably contested it.

1902:  CUBA GAINS INDEPENDENCE FROM THE US.

Babalu.

1908:  ACTOR JAMES STEWART IS BORN.

This will be a wonderful life.

1915:  ISRAELI POLITICIAN MOSHE DAYAN IS BORN.

Are they coming on the left?

1916:  THE SATURDAY EVENING POST PUBLISHES ITS FIRST COVER WITH A NORMAN ROCKWELL PAINTING.

It was a boy with a baby carriage in case you're in a trivia contest.

1919: COMEDIAN GEORGE GOBEL IS BORN.

No longer lonesome.

1927:  CHARLES LINDBERGH TAKES OFF FROM ROOSEVELT FIELD IN LONG ISLAND TO MAKE THE WORLD'S FIRST SOLO NON-STOP FLIGHT ACROSS THE ATLANTIC.  HE LANDS IN PARIS THE NEXT DAY.

After what we learned later on, it's a shame this was a round trip.

1932:  AMELIA EARHART TAKES OFF FROM NEWFOUNDLAND TO BEGIN THE WORLD'S FIRST SOLO NONSTOP FLIGHT ACROSS THE ATLANTIC OCEAN BY A FEMALE PILOT.

This one she actually finished.

1940:  THE FIRST PRISONERS ARRIVE AT A NEW CONCENTRATION CAMP AT AUSCHWITZ.

And so it begins.

1944:  SINGER JOE COCKER IS BORN.

He'll get high.  With help from his friends.

1946:  ACTRESS/SINGER CHER IS BORN.

We got you, babe.

1948:  CHIANG KAI-SHEK IS ELECTED AS THE FIRST PRESIDENT OF CHINA.

Waiter, Kai-shek, please.

1964:  DISCOVERY OF THE COSMIC MICROWAVE BACKGROUND RADIATION BY ROBERT WOODROW WILSON AND ARNO PENZIAS.

Oh, good, now we can heat up lunch.

1966:  ACTRESS MINDY COHN IS BORN.

Saw her once picking up take-out food at Blue Plate Diner in Santa Monica.

1969:  THE BATTLE OF HAMBURGER HILL IN VIETNAM ENDS.

Hold the pickle.  Add the napalm.

1983:  FIRST PUBLICATIONS OF THE DISCOVERY OF THE HIV VIRUS THAT CAUSES AIDS IN THE JOURNAL SCIENCE BY LUC MONTAGNIER.

Uh oh.

1989:  ACTRESS GILDA RADNER DIES.

Marvelous talent.  What a waste.

1990:  THE FIRST POST-COMMUNIST PRESIDENTIAL AND PARLIAMENTARY ELECTIONS ARE HELD IN ROMANIA.

Da, I can vote now.

1996:  THE SUPREME COURT OF THE US RULES AGAINST A LAW THAT WOULD HAVE PREVENTED ANY CITY, TOWN, OR COUNTY IN COLORADO FROM TAKING ANY JUDICIAL ACTION TO PROTECT THE RIGHTS OF GAYS AND LESBIANS.

And now you can legally smoke weed in the same state.

2012:  SINGER ROBIN GIBB DIES.

How do you mend a broken heart?   You really can't.

2013:  SINGER RAY MANZAREK DIES.

From the Doors....now knocking on Heaven's...well, you get it.

2025:  ACTOR GEORGE WENDT DIES.

Norm!

Dinner last night:   Had a big lunch so just some cheese and crackers.

Go Long on Short

 

As far as I'm concerned, Martin Short can do no wrong.   He is probably one of the smartest and most talented people working in show business today.   

So, naturally, a documentary on him would be intriguing.   And even more so when one of the producers is Ron Howard, who has moved almost exclusively into the world of making documentaries.   And with all that positive stuff, there is no way the new Netflix film couldn't be successful and as interesting as all get out.

Oh, sure, it plays like the typical biographical documentary with a linear look at the life under the microscope.   The good news is that Marty participates with the production.   And, as a result, he provides access to tons and tons of home movie footage which demonstrates how he values the friendships of the likes of Tom Hanks and Steve Martin.

Short appreciates comedy and the ability to make people laugh.  Hey, I once got a giggle and a like from him when he was active on Facebook.   But, moreover, the laughter is the fuel that propels him through life despite an awful lot of loss.  When he was a kid, he lost his big brother, his mother, and his father over a two year period.  Later on, his beloved wife Nancy passes away after a battle with cancer.   More recently, he lost good friend Catherine O'Hara and his own daughter commits suicide.

But Marty perseveres almost magically.   And that is the true story behind this film.   Short presses on and on and on.   And remains the steady and positive influence for his treasure chest of friends who populate his home movies.

This is a must see.   I must say.

LEN'S RATING:  Four stars.

Dinner last night:  Leftover chicken.

Monday Morning Video Laugh - May 18, 2026

May continues with more animal tomfoolery with Johnny Carson.   That koala bear is so cute.

Dinner last night:  Mediterranean Chicken.

The Sunday Memory Drawer - I Once Was Thin

 

I am still sifting through more of the photos I dug out of my New York apartment.  Most of them I can easily remember the specifics.  The time, the place, the occasion.  The one atop today's post?

No clue.  

Okay, it's a batting cage.  I don't recall ever going to one on the East Coast, so this must have been taken during one of my California trips.  The longish hair.  The moustache.  The timing seems right.  And, good news, the ball is nowhere to be found.  I've obviously made contact. Len's 1 for 1.

Meanwhile, as I stare at this snapshot, there is one thing that grabs me.

Damn, I was skinny on this day.

Seriously, there is no stomach.  The legs don't look that chunky.  Are those designer jeans that I have wormed my way into?  I'd like to lose the two tone belt that just screams "J. Crew."  But, overall, this looks like one fit individual.

Really?  When was this?  And how come I couldn't make this last more than three days?

Weight has always been an issue with me.  Want to see?

I'm probably four in this picture and already I see evidence of love handles.  One Animal Cracker box too many.  And dig those chunky thighs.  Frankly, I think some folks just happen to be blessed.  There are those who have svelte in their DNA make-up and others that don't.

I'm somewhere in the middle.  As you can see, I could be bi-polar with regard to fitness.  But, for me to achieve the thinner side, it takes a lot of work.

The only problem is that I didn't start that work until I was in high school.

For about sixteen years, I was totally passive.  Except when it came to eating.  We dined healthy, but there was candy and dessert and always chocolate chip cookies in Grandma's pantry jar.  Fruit and vegetables, yes. Tootsie Rolls in Grandma's living room candy dish, definitely yes.  And, after school, there was always the walk around the corner to Charlie's Delicatessen for an after school snack.  A carrot stick?  Hell, no.  Make that a Drake's Ring Ding.

Exercise in my first decade and a half?    Well, there wasn't as much as there should have been.  I played in the neighborhood, but was always the slowest and clumsiest one on the team.  Sports didn't come to me easily.  Maybe it was the extra pounds.  Maybe it was a lack of practice.  I was always the last one to be picked when sides were chosen.

Things weren't much better in school when there was gym class always taught by some jerk who thought he was coaching the Green Bay Packers.  The most strenuous activity for me was just to figure out how to get a medical excuse for whenever they would turn to gymnastics and tumbling.  

And, of course, we had that great annual humbler.  The President's Fitness Test.  Some bureaucratic nonsense concocted to make kids feel horrible about themselves.  You had to run six laps around the playground.  Or scoot around picking up erasers.  Your times were compared to everybody else in the class.  It was a horrible feeling each and every Spring.   While other classmates had moved on to the locker room, I was still in Lap 5.

This kind of misery became quite second nature to me.  It was me and I started to accept it.  I was aided and abetted by parents who discounted the whole concept of weight and fitness.

"Some people are just big-boned."

Oh.

But, as I moved into the teen years, I started to kick back on this flimsy excuse.  I looked around at some friends.  There were others who were equally "big-boned."  My best neighborhood buddy Leo was one of them.  But, when it came to playing games on the block, he had a dose of athleticism that I envied.  Why was that?

Ultimately, I found my own niche.  It came on those summer teenage nights when my gang would troop en masse down to the local vacant lot after dinner.  We'd play softball or baseball until it was either too dark or the ball had been lost in the weeds.  And, as I did this night after humid night, I found there was some truth to the old adage.

Practice does make perfect.

Well, maybe not perfect.  More like passable.  

Suddenly, I could pitch at softball.  I found a hitting stroke and could pound the ball with a little power.  And, given my height, I came in handy playing first base.  You always wanted to put the tall guy there because the highest weeds were right behind that base.  You never wanted to overthrow because that would easily get that night's game cancelled due to shrubbery.  

I was tall and was now able to catch.  I was ideal at first base and relished the notion.  Leo would play third and field like a young Ron Santo.  Snag a grounder and fire it to me for the out.  What a defensive combination.

I now belonged someplace on a playing field.

The weight, or non-lack of it, still plagued me.  It became really chronic in my senior year.  During the very first gym class of the year, a deep knee thrust popped out the whole joint and that would be the beginning of the long end for my right knee.  Touch football games after school were discarded in favor of TV reruns and lots of Hostess Twinkies.  

By Christmas, I was no longer "big-boned."  I was fat.

I hated the way I looked and vowed to make changes.   There was a diet being hawked on TV talk shows that required you to drink eight glasses of water a day.  A problem when you're taking six classes a day in a high school where going to the bathroom was a death wish.  But I did it.  Plus I monitored my calorie intake.   Dad did the super market shopping.  I gave him my list.

"Low calorie Wishbone dressing?" 

"Non-fat yogurt?"

"Tab?"

Yes, that Tab.  

By spring, I was looking for a new wardrobe.

And, folks, it's been a battle ever since.  I went to college and almost ballooned to Jabba the Hut proportions again.  Late night hero sandwiches from the Fordham student deli will expand your waist measurement.  As soon as I graduated, I went back to dieting.

Weight off, weight on.  Muscle tone good, muscle tone bad.  I never stayed the same the rest of my life.

There are some photos over time that I want to burn.  Since when did I look like Ralph Kramden?  There are other snapshots that make me squint to see the label on the jeans.  Calvin Klein?  Hmmm, I'm impressed.

There's the photo at the top and I like what I see.  How many days did that flat stomach last?  I'm curious.

Over the years of my life, there was always some form of cardio.  I've been through not one, not two, but three stationary bikes.  There was a Yonkers gym membership in the 90s and I actually went four times a week.  I became addicted to a Nordic Track machine.  

And then, for a whole,  rotten joints that connect the two parts of my leg started to prevent a rigorous exercise regiment.

Today, there is a personal trainer that works with me twice a week.  I go to PT once a week.  The struggle continues.  The weight doesn't leave.  Actually it seems to pile up faster.   Now the only way I can have abs is by taking an old picture and running it through AI.

Still, it's a part of my life that I can't ignore.  And don't.  

I may never look like the photo at the top.  But, at the same time, I never want to be the one in the middle either.

And, my friends, isn't that what it's all about?

The middle.

Dinner last night:   Pizza at Viva La Mamma.

Classic TV Theme Song of the Month - May 2026

 One of those shows I never watched except for the opening theme.

Dinner last night:  Beef and broccoli.

It's Prom Season....AGAIN.

 It's that time of year.  Everybody, smile!

It's either the senior prom or open call for "The Lion King."

It's a courteous boyfriend who's always willing to coordinate his dress with his date's.

Explosion at the paint factory!

Hello, 1983.

Hello, Bellevue Hospital.

The junior prom at the Willy Wonka Chocolate Factory.

Love is Blue.

There's a problem when your boyfriend's hair makes him look like Lucille Ball.

Pat and Lois, sans toolbelts, at the prom.

"Oh, what proudly we hail....."

Dinner last night:  Bacon wrapped hot dog at Dodger Stadium.

The AI World

I hate to admit.  I have dabbled.   Playing with images and turning them into quick videos.  I haven't gotten complicated.   Just people...well, me...kissing some stranger.

I started with this single photo from about 30 years ago.   I've always liked this photo of me.   I call it my porn producer profile.   I look good but smarmy.

Well, Central Casting made a call and I wanted a romcom make-out moment.  Now I can't load the whole 8 second video here, but here's a screen shot of what happened.   Enter attractive woman.

Now I realize AI is putting people out of business and all that.  But, for a single fantasy moment.

Okay, so here's another little innovation of AI and I used this photo from my first ever photo to Los Angeles.

Dig the old Met t-shirt.  And the shot of the Valley with the Sheraton Universal hotel in the background.

I remember this being a sultry day.   Maybe I should have stripped down.   Enter AI again.

Oddly, I probably did look that good back then.

Again, another fantasy.

Now I'm not a fan of people who use AI to pose in pictures with Grandma who's been dead since Carter was President.   But, as a lark...

Dinner last night:  Sandwich.

This Date in History - May 13

 

He's got his detractors, but I'm a Bobby Valentine fan.  Happy birthday, Skipper.

1373:  JULIAN OF NORWICH HAS VISIONS WHICH ARE LATER TRANSCRIBED IN HER REVELATIONS OF DIVINE LOVE.

Is that like an older version of Fifty Shades of Gray?

1568:  THE FORCES OF MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS, ARE DEFEATED BY A CONFEDERACY OF SCOTTISH PROTESTANTS UNDER JAMES STEWART, EARL OF MORAY.  

As opposed to James Stewart, Awesome Actor.

1619:  DUTCH STATESMAN JOHAN VAN OLDENBARNEVELT IS EXECUTED IN THE HAGUE AFTER BEING CONVICTED OF TREASON.

With a name like that, he deserves it.

1787:  CAPTAIN ARTHUR PHILLIP LEAVES PORTSMOUTH, ENGLAND, WITH ELEVEN SHIPS FULL OF CONVICTS TO ESTABLISH A PENAL COLONY IN AUSTRALIA.  

If you have to be in jail, there's no better place than Australia.

1846:  THE UNITED STATES DECLARES WAR ON MEXICO.

This never ended, right?

1848:  THE FIRST PERFORMANCE OF FINLAND'S NATIONAL ANTHEM.

Don't know it.  Hum a few bars, please.

1861:  DURING THE AMERICAN CIVIL WAR, QUEEN VICTORIA OF THE UNITED KINGDOM ISSUES A PROCLAMATION OF NEUTRALITY WHICH RECOGNIZES THE BREAKAWAY STATES AS HAVING BELLIGERENT RIGHTS.

A good fight to stay out of.

1861:  PAKISTAN'S FIRST RAILROAD OPENS.  

For those four of you who actually want to travel around Pakistan.

1880:  IN NEW JERSEY, THOMAS EDISON PERFORMS THE FIRST TEST OF THE ELECTRIC RAILWAY.

Take that, Pakistan.

1914:  BOXER JOE LOUIS IS BORN.

Pow!  Crunch!  Pow!  Ouch!  

1917:  THREE CHILDREN REPORTS THE FIRST APPARITION OF OUR LADY OF FATIMA IN PORTUGAL.  

Do you see what I see?

1922:  ACTRESS BEATRICE ARTHUR IS BORN.

God will get you for that.

1933:  BASEBALL CATCHER JOHN ROSEBORO IS BORN.

Hit in the head with a bat wielded by Juan Marichal in 1965.  Just sayin'.

1939:  THE FIRST COMMERCIAL FM RADIO STATION IN THE US IS LAUNCHED IN BLOOMFIELD, CONNECTICUT.   THE STATION LATER BECOMES WDRC-FM.

1939?   It's a little early for them to be playing Jethro Tull.

1940:  WINSTON CHURCHILL MAKES HIS "BLOOD, TOIL, TEARS, AND SWEAT" SPEECH TO THE HOUSE OF COMMONS.

Earth, Wind, and Fire were not available.

1940:  QUEEN WILHELMINA OF THE NETHERLANDS FLEES HER COUNTRY TO GREAT BRITAIN AFTER THE GERMAN INVASION.

I wonder how somebody from the Netherlands would say "let's get the hell out of here."

1941:  SINGER RITCHIE VALENS IS BORN.

Died at the age of 18 in a plane crash.   Waste.

1948:  THE KFAR ETZION MASSACRE IS COMMITTED BY ARAB IRREGULARS, THE DAY BEFORE ISRAEL DECLARES ITS INDEPENDENCE.

PS, they're all still fighting.

1950:   BASEBALL LEGEND BOBBY VALENTINE IS BORN.

How he got those Mets into the 2000 World Series is still a mystery to me.

1950:  MUSICIAN STEVIE WONDER IS BORN.

When he really was Little Stevie Wonder.

1954:  THE ORIGINAL BROADWAY PRODUCTION OF "THE PAJAMA GAME" OPENS.

Steam heat!

1958:  DURING A TRIP TO VENEZUELA, VICE PRESIDENT RICHARD NIXON'S CAR IS ATTACKED BY ANTI-AMERICAN DEMONSTRATORS.

Don't hit my dog Checkers.

1958:  THE TRADEMARK VELCRO IS REGISTERED.

This will stick around for a while.

1958:  A GROUP OF FRENCH MILITARY OFFICERS LEAD A COUP IN ALGIERS DEMANDING THAT A GOVERNMENT OF NATIONAL UNITY BE FORMED WITH CHARLES DE GAULLE AT ITS HEAD IN ORDER TO DEFEND FRENCH CONTROL OF ALGERIA.

By the way, De Gaulle had really big ears.

1960:  BERKELEY STUDENTS CONGREGATE FOR THE FIRST DAY OF PROTEST AGAINST A VISIT BY THE HOUSE COMMITTEE ON UN-AMERICAN ACTIVITIES.  

There's always some kind of nonsense on this campus.

1961:  ACTOR GARY COOPER DIES.

Dead.  Yup.

1969:  RACE RIOTS TAKE PLACE IN MALAYSIA.

Just in case you thought this only happened in this country.

1972:  WILLIE MAYS PLAYS HIS FIRST GAME FOR THE METS AFTER BEING TRADED FROM THE GIANTS.

He hit a homer in the rain if my childhood memory is correct.

1972:  ACTOR DAN BLOCKER DIES.

Hoss!

1977:  MOBSTER MICKEY SPILLANE DIES.

No mystery.

1980:  AN F3 TORNADO HITS MICHIGAN AND PRESIDENT JIMMY CARTER DECLARES IT A FEDERAL DISASTER AREA.

If anybody knows disaster areas, it would be Carter.

1981:  MEHMET ALI AGCA ATTEMPTS TO ASSASSINATE POPE JOHN PAUL II IN ROME'S ST. PETER'S SQUARE.

After emergency surgery, he lasted a whole bunch longer.

1989:  LARGE GROUPS OF STUDENTS OCCUPY TIANANMEN SQUARE AND BEGIN A HUNGER STRIKE.  

An hour later, they were still hungry all over again.

1994:  JOHNNY CARSON MAKES HIS LAST TV APPEARANCE ON THE DAVID LETTERMAN SHOW.

Still miss the hell out of him.

2013:  PSYCHOLOGIST DR. JOYCE BROTHERS DIES.

You think I got problems???

2018:  ACTRESS MARGOT KIDDER DIES.

Not kidding any more.

2019:  ACTRESS DORIS DAY DIES.

They should have given her an Oscar while she was alive.

Dinner last night:  Leftover Korean chicken.

What The F Were They Thinking?

 

Ah, those were the days.   This is one of those iconic passageways at LAX that connected your gate with baggage claims.   That long, long, long walk that was made easier by the inclusion of those sliding people movers.   You just stood on it and, if you chose, you didn't have to move a single foot.   Perhaps you remember these from the opening credits of "The Graduate."

Well, it's 2026 and most terminals at LAX are sprucing up for the burgeoning Summer Olympics of 2028.   They are updating and upgrading the facilities.

And, as a result, those handy people sliders?   Gone.  Replaced by...well...nothing.  And with gates moved out more, this walk to your gate or to baggage claim on incoming flights is an unmitigated disaster.   Indeed, the American Airlines terminal at LAX is now a horror show for anybody that is ADA-compliant.  Or like me...coming off hip, knee, and hernia surgeries.

As the title says...what the bleep were they thinking?

Okay, they have a solution and I did try it out on my last plane trip.

Waymo Wheelchairs!  

The waiting attendant programs in your gate number or ultimate airport destination and off you go.  

At one mile a minute.   If you're flying next Wednesday, you might want to get your chair on Tuesday.  It's a help for sure.   But wasn't the original sliding gizmo a better alternative?

Indeed, at this point, the only people who will be fit enough to attend the Olympics will be the athletes who are in the Olympics.

Dinner last night:  Sandwich.