Classic TV Theme Song of the Month - February 2026

 Sadly, the only thing I remember about Inger Stevens and this series from 60 years ago is that she killed herself shortly thereafter.

Dinner last night:  Salisbury steak.

Smile!

 

More snapshots from Hell. I don't know why this baby is smiling. He's next.

For once, they're not looking through bars.

Toucans bite as she will soon painfully discover.

My three sons. An arsonist, a molester, and a serial killer.

It was a bitch sliding these things down my birth canal.

"Dad, I told you. I'm in the witness protection program. No photos!!!!!"

Dinner last night:  Grilled hamsteak.

Overheard...

I can only relay the conversation exactly as I heard it in Aisle 6 of Bristol Farms.  Two young female gremlins (if you saw them in person, you would agree with that description) were talking as they took turns looking at cans of crushed tomatoes.

Girl #1: It was a hassle, but it was so worth it for my own protection. It's not hard to get a temporary restraining order. If my boyfriend comes within 20 yards of me, I can call the cops.

Girl #2: The one I got for my last boyfriend, he couldn't come within 10 yards. And my friend's TRO on her ex-husband didn't allow him to be within one mile of her.

They moved onto Aisle 7.

So, how easy are these temporary restraining orders to get? 

Is there a department at Target for them? 

Or, maybe you can get the fancy ones at Nordstrom's. You know they are all so customer-service-oriented there. "I know you want the 30 yard one, but I think you'd be much happier with the 15 yard TRO. They are more popular these days."

Actually, I am going to request my own TRO and start with these two super market cookies.

Dinner last night:   Salad.

This Date in History - February 18

 

Happy birthday, John Travolta.  I love your outfit.

1229:  FREDERICK II, HOLY ROMAN EMPEROR, SIGNS A TEN YEAR TRUCE WITH AL-KAMIL, REGAINING JERUSALEM, NAZARETH, AND BETHLEHEM.

I'd walk a mile for Al-Kamil.

1268:  THE LIVONIAN BROTHERS OF THE SWORDS ARE DEFEATED IN THE BATTLE OF RAKVERE.  

Which means you get February 18 off if you're a Livonian or a Rakverian.

1478:  GEORGE, DUKE OF CLARENCE, IS CONVICTED OF TREASON AND EXECUTED IN PRIVATE AT THE TOWER OF LONDON.

Today it would be a sweeps special on Fox.

1546:  MARTIN LUTHER DIES.

Thanks to him, I have a church to go to.

1564:  PAINTER MICHELANGELO DIES.

Come on down, we've decided to wallpaper.

1766:  A MUTINY BY CAPTIVE MALAGASY BEGINS AT SEA ON THE SLAVE SHIP MEERMIN.  

Mutiny on the Meermin.   Doesn't roll off your tongue like the Clark Gable movie.

1781:  CAPTAIN THOMAS SHIRLEY OPENS HIS EXPEDITION AGAINST DUTCH COLONIAL OUTPOSTS ON THE GOLD COAST OF AFRICA.

Don't call him Shirley.

1797:  SIR RALPH ABERCROMBY AND A FLEET OF 18 BRITISH WARSHIPS INVADE TRINIDAD.

Any word from Fitch?

1861:  IN ALABAMA, JEFFERSON DAVIS IS INAUGURATED AS THE PROVISIONAL PRESIDENT OF THE CONFEDERATE STATE.

So who will be the president of Texas when they secede from the union?

1865:  UNION FORCES UNDER GENERAL WILLIAM SHERMAN SET THE SOUTH CAROLINA STATE HOUSE ON FIRE DURING THE BURNING OF COLUMBIA.

Well, there goes the housing market in Columbia.

1885:  THE ADVENTURES OF HUCKLEBERRY FINN BY MARK TWAIN IS PUBLISHED.  

Cliff Notes are out when?

1890:  ACTOR ADOLPHE MENJOU IS BORN.

He was in every movie made in the 1930s.

1892:  POLITICIAN WENDELL WILLKIE IS BORN.

Nobody Won With Willkie.

1913:  PEDRO LASCURAIN BECOMES PRESIDENT OF MEXICO FOR 45 MINUTES---THE SHORTEST TERM OF ANY PRESIDENT OF ANY COUNTRY.

He was double parked.

1919:  ACTOR JACK PALANCE IS BORN.

And immediately did ten push-ups.

1920:  TV GAME SHOW HOST BILL CULLEN IS BORN.

I'll freeze, Bill.

1925:  ACTOR GEORGE KENNEDY IS BORN.

Lord, he's old.

1930:  WHILE STUDYING PHOTOGRAPHS, CLYDE TOMBAUGH DISCOVERS PLUTO.

I thought that was Walt Disney.

1930:  ELM FARM OLLIE BECOMES THE FIRST COW TO FLY AND BE MILKED IN AN AIRCRAFT.

Talk about your Stupid Pet Tricks.

1933:  SINGER (?) YOKO ONO IS BORN.

She killed more Beatles than a can of Raid.

1943:  THE NAZIS ARREST THE MEMBERS OF THE WHITE ROSE MOVEMENT.

White Rose?   Did they used to make ginger ale?

1943:  JOSEPH GOEBBELS DELIVERS HIS SPORTPALAST SPEECH.

And he goebbeled all the way through it.

1954:  THE FIRST CHURCH OF SCIENTOLOGY IS ESTABLISHED IN LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA.

Ironically, this occurs on the same day as...

1954:  ACTOR JOHN TRAVOLTA IS BORN.

Who knew???

1957:  WALTER JAMES BOLTON BECOMES THE LAST PERSON LEGALLY EXECUTED IN NEW ZEALAND.

I guess the key word here is "legally."

1957:  TV STAR VANNA WHITE IS BORN.

H_PP_ _I__HD_Y!

1970:  THE CHICAGO SEVEN ARE FOUND NOT GUILTY OF CONSPIRING TO INCITE RIOTS AT THE 1968 DEMOCRATIC NATIONAL CONVENTION.

Yeah, sure.

1977:  ACTOR ANDY DEVINE DIES.

Daughter Loretta must be distraught.

1979:  SNOW FALLS IN THE SAHARA DESERT FOR THE ONLY TIME IN HISTORY.

Put some snow chains on those camels.

1991:  THE IRA EXPLODES BOMBS IN THE EARLY MORNING AT PADDINGTON STATION IN LONDON.

Hope the teddy bear wasn't hurt.

1998:  SPORTSCASTER HARRY CARAY DIES.

No formaldehyde needed to preserve him.

2001:  SEVEN-TIME NASCAR CHAMPION DALE EARNHARDT DIES IN AN ACCIDENT DURING THE DAYTONA 500.

What color flag do they wave for that?

2006:  SINGER BILL COWSILL DIES.

The Rain, The Park, and Death.

2025:  ACTOR GENE HACKMAN DIES.

At least, we think that's the date.

Dinner last night:  Sandwich.

The Claire Danes School of Acting

 

If such a school existed, there would be a limited curriculum.

Anguish 101.

Advanced Anguish.

Master Class in Anguish.

Don't get me wrong.  I think she's a fine actress.  But she does have a habit of taking roles that are...well...anguished.   I mean she had the same look for five seasons of "Homeland."  In this recent Netflix limited season, she does take it one step further and plays...wait for it...an anguished lesbian.  I would love to see her branch out and do a screwball comedy with Will Farrell.

That said, "The Beast in Me" is another dark series from Netflix and, on the recommendation of friends, I gave it a shot.   Yes, it is dark but the plot is compelling and sucked me in.  Sadly, I must report that I watched all eight episodes over four days.

I hate when that happens.

Danes plays an....ANGUISHED...author with a new neighbor out on Long Island.  The new dude next door is a creepy and sinister urban developer played by Matthew Rhys and he has some skeletons in his closet.   One just might be the real skeleton of his first wife who "disappeared" several years ago.   Meanwhile, Danes has her own brand of anguish dealing with the local kid who accidentally killed her son in a car crash several years ago.

Somehow, Nil Jarvis the businessman and Danes' author character connect and she is contracted to write his bio.   Of course, to do that, she must learn the story behind the first wife's disappearance.   So, everybody has a nasty angle here and the story peels back slowly like an onion.  Even though it is dark, there is something about the story that sucks you in like a Dyson floor cleaner.  And the good news is that the tale does end definitely after eight episodes which means you won't get trapped with several sequels over the next five years.

Check it out.  He said in anguish.

Dinner last night:  Leftover beef with Chinese noodles.

Monday Morning Video Laugh - February 16, 2026

 The February weather videos continue with this snapshot of bad drivers in Canada.

Dinner last night:  Roast chicken dinner at the home of Amir and Kevin.

The Sunday Memory Drawer - My Birthday with George's Aunt

 

My birthday was last Wednesday and regardless of how I celebrate, it will never top a birthday I enjoyed about 30 or so years ago.   And it involves none other than the lady in the photo above.

Rosemary Clooney is one of the things I inherited from my parents, other than the maddening mix of personality flaws (stoicism from Dad, impulsiveness from Mom) I got from both. Her music was always playing in our house on those monaural long playing records that were stacked up five-at-a-time on the "Hi Fi." Vikki Carr, for some bizarre reason, was always being piped in throughout the house, and this made no sense to me, as half of her songs were always in Spanish. But, I digress...

I developed an affinity for Rosemary Clooney at an early age, and I continued it as her musical stylings changed over time. Indeed, when she got to that small cabaret stage in the early 90s, this was a fastball over the plate for me. I ate it up. So, you can imagine my absolute glee when I heard that she would be appearing at the old Rainbow and Stars supper club on top of Rockefeller Center on a Saturday evening in February about two plus decades ago. And it was my birthday! Touchdown. Score the goal. Touch 'em all. I would be there.

I made a pact with God not to louse up this amazing quirk of timing. The only thing that could stop me would be one of those crippling blizzards that renders New York City as useful as power brakes on a turtle. I enlisted two cohorts to share in my glory. And then I called for three reservations to the show. And here comes what might have been a fatal mistake.

Supper Club: "Will you be dining with us or just coming for the show?"

Me: (knowing fully well how pricey their menu was) "No, just the show, please."

An oops moment. Except I did not know it at the time.

When the evening arrived, it was cold and blustery. But nary a winter cloud in the sky. The only flakes were the usual tourists that hover around like Rock Center like ants on picnic blanket crumbs. We ate dinner, but at a venue certainly a little more downscale than the 75 buck burgers the supper club was hawking.

An hour before the 11PM show, we made our way up the elevator to that wonderful room that overlooks the entire city. I walked up to the hostess and announced our arrival.

There was no reservation in my name.

WTF!

I stressed there must be some mistake. I recited the day, date, and appropriate time that I called.

Still nothing. Sorry.

And, of course, the show is sold out, so there was no chance of getting another table.

WTF!!

I asked to speak to the manager. He was not available. But we were more than welcome to have a cocktail in the bar and enjoy the view.

Happy birthday to me. And a glorious Fuck You from the Rainbow Room.

My friends did their best over drinks to make me feel better. It didn't work. As I sat there staring at the Empire State Building with that red heart of lights all ready for Valentine's Day, I got more and more agitated. And then I kicked into what I call Murphy Brown mode. Or something akin to that scene in "Terms of Endearment" when Shirley McLaine screams at the nurses' station to get her daughter more medication.

I got ugly.

Leaving my friends with their adult beverages, I went Rainbow Room manager hunting. And I didn't care who I asked. Or interrupted. I finally tracked the guy down in the main part of the Rainbow Room, where he was coordinating somebody's wedding reception.

Yeah, I didn't care.

At first blush, he tried to blow me off. But, then I explained it was my birthday that was now ruined. Of course, I added, other people in the same situation may use that "faux birthday" excuse. I assured him my birthday story was true. I whipped out my driver's license and shoved the date in his face. There was a small glimmer of hope in his face. He told me to go back to the bar and that he would send somebody for us just before the show was scheduled to start.

And he was good to his word. Just before 11PM, the same snarly hostess, who was now off my Christmas card list, came to get us. She explained that the reason for the mix-up was due to a late reservation request from.....Harry Crosby. Okay, if I'm going to get upended by a Crosby kid, make it Mary Crosby. At least, she's the answer to a Trivial Pursuit question. Nevertheless, they were creating an extra table for us. The only caveat was that we couldn't enter the show until the very last minute and we had to do so from a side door. Perhaps, there was surveillance set up by the Fire Department? Who knows?

Anyway, the skank ushered us to said side door. Which was not really a side door. It was actually the wings to the stage.

And we were standing there alongside Rosemary Clooney!

It took me about five seconds to realize that this was the ultimate birthday present. I thought really fast about what to say to her. I know not to say "break a leg." Besides, I know she already had several years before.

Me: "Have a great show."

Rosemary: "I'm a little nervous."

Me: "Don't be. All friends in there."

And Harry Crosby is in my original seats.

Rosemary: (patting my arm) "You're sweet."

And off she went for an hour of musical nirvana.

Oddly enough, after the show, we ran into her again near the coat check. She was apparently using the area to mingle with her friends. I was standing about three feet away from her as she gabbed with Skitch Henderson. Another friend came over to take their picture. I realized I was positioned right in the center of the intended photo. They smiled. So did I. Flash.

I've always wondered if anybody questioned who the hell was this schmuck standing between Rosemary Clooney and Skitch Henderson.

Hey, I'm the one who was celebrating my birthday that night.

When Rosie died in 2002, I posted this story to a memorial website that her family had set up for fans. About three months later, I received a handwritten note from her brother, Nick Clooney (father of George). He mentioned that the family was touched by my story and they wanted to invite me to the Hollywood memorial concert being held later that year. Unfortunately, I couldn't be there. And I didn't need to be.

I still had my story. And I was sticking to it.

It really was my birthday!

Dinner last night:  Beef with noodles from Chin Chin.

Classic Newsreel of the Month - February 2026

 A slow news week 66 years ago.

Dinner last week:  Sandwich.

Len's Juke Box of the Month - February 2026

This was a big hit in 1960 despite that the only one who could understand the lyrics was my grandmother.

Dinner last night:  Spaghetti at the home of Connie and Leo.

Bad Bunny Who?

 

I stopped listening to pop music around 1995 and I'm kind of proud of that.  As a result, many of the current music stars and Grammy winners are a complete mystery to me.

And that includes this idiot named Bad Bunny who recently was the focus of the Super Bowl half time show.   Because I inexplicably got sucked into watching this coma of a game, I actually got exposed to post 1995 music courtesy of this jerk.

I would have been better off getting COVID.  This is what mainstream music is in 2026?   Bring back the Lennon Sisters.

Now I heard from a lot of apparently deaf friends who loved this guy's performance.   Not that they could understand him because his entire act was exclusively in Spanish.   But Mr. Bunny (clearly no relation to the grossly more talented Bugs) has been vocal about Trump and ICE and anything else on the Left, so his appearance was compared to something akin to Jesus walking on water.

What amused the hell out of me was the ultra-woke NFL's attempt to be all things to all people not American.   All of the pre-game singers did their songs with lyrics interpreted in sign language a nice touch.   But where was the translation when Buddy was performing exclusively in Spanish?   Maybe they could have gotten an ASL person who also spoke Spanish.

America.   Increasingly laughable at every turn.

Dinner last night:  Chicken parm at Craig's in West Hollywood.

This Date in History - February 11

 

Happy birthday, Thomas Alva Edison.   We're going to celebrate a lot of birthdays today and you'll soon know why.

660 BC:  JAPAN IS FOUNDED BY EMPEROR JIMMU.

No relation to Shamu.

55:  TIBERIUS CLAUDIUS CAESAR BRITANNICUS, HEIR TO THE ROMAN EMPERORSHIP, DIES UNDER MYSTERIOUS CIRCUMSTANCES IN ROME.  THIS CLEARS THE WAY FOR NERO TO BECOME EMPEROR.

Britannicus?  I prefer Funk and Wagnall.

244:  EMPEROR GORDIAN III IS MURDERED BY MUTINOUS SOLDIERS IN MESOPOTAMIA.

Probably the lesson on one of those many days I slept through World History in the tenth grade.

1531:  HENRY VIII OF ENGLAND IS RECOGNIZED AS SUPREME HEAD OF THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND.

His wives all knew that already.

1659:  THE ASSAULT OF COPENHAGEN BY SWEDISH FORCES IS BEATEN BACK WITH HEAVY LOSSES.

Wonderful, wonderful Copenhagen.

1790:  THE RELIGIOUS SOCIETY OF FRIENDS, ALSO KNOWN AS QUAKERS, PETITIONS THE US CONGRESS FOR THE ABOLITION OF SLAVERY.

Talk about trendsetters.

1794:  THE FIRST SESSION OF THE US SENATE OPENS TO THE PUBLIC.

Back when people were actually interested in how our government used to work.

1812:  MASSASCHUSETTS GOVERNOR ELBRIDGE GERRY "GERRYMANDERS" FOR THE FIRST TIME.

That's not what we heard from his mistress.

1847:  INVENTOR THOMAS ALVA EDISON IS BORN.

Let there be light.

1858:  BERNADETTE SOUBIROUS' FIRST VISION OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN MARY AT LOURDES.

Yeah, sure, whatever you say.

1861:  THE US HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES UNANIMOUSLY PASSES A RESOLUTION GUARANTEEING NONINTERFERENCE WITH SLAVERY IN ANY STATE.

Obviously, they don't pay attention to the Quakers.

1889:  THE MEIJI CONSTITUTION OF JAPAN IS ADOPTED AND THE FIRST NATIONAL DIET WILL START IN 1890.

I don't eat sushi.

1909:  BOXER MAX BAER IS BORN.

Jethro Senior.

1916:  EMMA GOLDMAN IS ARRESTED FOR LECTURING ON BIRTH CONTROL.  

If you ever saw a picture of Emma, you wouldn't need birth control.

1917:  AUTHOR SIDNEY SHELDON IS BORN.

The Other Side of the Birth Canal.

1919:  FRIEDRICH EBERT IS ELECTED PRESIDENT OF GERMANY.

His vice president was Wolfgang Siskel.

 1919:  ACTRESS EVA GABOR IS BORN.

Meanwhile, sister Zsa Zsa has lasted to the age of 214.

1920:  ACTOR BILLY HALOP IS BORN.

A Dead End Kid.

1921:  POLITICIAN LLOYD BENTSEN IS BORN.

A Dead End Candidate.

1926:   ACTOR LESLIE NIELSEN IS BORN.

And don't call me Shirley or old.

 1934:  ACTRESS TINA LOUISE IS BORN.

How did she manage three seasons on that island without sleeping with the Professor, the Skipper, Thurston Howell, Gilligan, and...hell, even Mary Ann?

1936:  ACTOR BURT REYNOLDS IS BORN.

The first day where he was buck naked for the camera.  There would be others.

1937:  A SIT-DOWN STRIKE ENDS WHEN GENERAL MOTORS RECOGNIZES THE UNITED AUTO WORKERS.

How did they recognize them?  They were the ones sitting down.

1939:  A LOCKHEED P-38 LIGHTNING FLIES FROM CALIFORNIA TO NEW YORK IN 7 HOURS, 2 MINUTES.

And what was the movie?

1941:  MUSICIAN SERGIO MENDES IS BORN.

Brazil '41.

1943:  GENERAL DWIGHT D. EISENHOWER IS SELECTED TO COMMAND THE ALLIED ARMIES IN EUROPE.

First stop Normandy.

1953:  US PRESIDENT DWIGHT D. EISENHOWER REFUSES A CLEMENCY APPEAL FOR JULIUS AND ETHEL ROSENBERG.

What a ten-year ride for Ike.

1963:  AUTHOR SYLVIA PLATH DIES.

Got her wish.

1964:  POLITICIAN SARAH PALIN IS BORN.

Which means that two failed Vice Presidential candidates were born on this day.

1968:  THE MEMPHIS SANITATION STRIKE BEGINS.

This is why Martin Luther King Jr. wound up there on April 4.

1969:  ACTRESS JENNIFER ANISTON IS BORN.

I'll be there for you.

1973:  THE FIRST RELEASE OF AMERICAN PRISONERS OF WAR FROM VIETNAM BEGINS.

So all that picketing wasn't in vain.

1976:  ACTOR LEE J. COBB DIES.

Nice salad.

1978:  CHINA LIFTS A BAN ON WORKS BY ARISTOTLE, WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, AND CHARLES DICKENS.

Which prompts the very first book report assignment in Shanghai.

1982:  ACTRESS ELEANOR POWELL DIES.

So that's the tap dancing I hear above me.

1990:  NELSON MANDELA IS RELEASED FROM A SOUTH AFRICAN PRISON AFTER 27 YEARS.

So how was the food?

1994:  ACTOR WILLIAM CONRAD DIES.

Well, you know it wasn't from malnutrition.

2002: BASEBALL COACH FRANK CROSETTI DIES.

Hold up at third!

2006:  AUTHOR PETER BENCHLEY DIES.

He wrote "The Deep."  Now he is.

2012:  SINGER WHITNEY HOUSTON DIES.

Around the corner from my house and it totally ruined my....well, keep reading.

2013:  POPE BENEDICT XVI BECOMES THE FIRST PONTIFF TO RESIGN IN MORE THAN HALF A MILLENIUM.

To those of you who are confused, Nixon only thought he was a pope.

2018:  SINGER VIC DAMONE DIES.

I can't remember a single song he did.

2020:  THE WORLD HEALTH ORGANIZATION OFFICIALLY NAMES THE COVID-19 VIRUS.

You may have heard about this.

WHENEVER:  I AM BORN.

I told you it was a special birth date.

Dinner last night:  Sandwich.

And I'm Watching Why?

 

It's a far gone conclusion that it's virtually impossible to watch every series that shows up on a streaming service.  Way, way, way too much.  And I have to really be propelled to check something out.

This show came to me very innocently.   In the pre-game discussion on a work-related Zoom call, a bunch of folks...mostly women, I will add...were raving about "Heated Rivalry" on HBO.  It's a romance between two NHL players and, since I can see the photo above, I assume the story is gay.   But the work ladies were so enthusiastic about it that I gave it a try.

And, somehow, I stuck with it for all six episodes.   And the last scene hints of other seasons.   My continued viewership is intriguing because, essentially, this series pretty much is nothing but watching a couple of hockey players give each other blow jobs.   Indeed, I counted an average of 3 to 4 every episode.

Now I'm curious about what's going on with those women I work with.  Yes, I watched it.   Was it interesting?  At times.   Did I need to see it?   Frankly, I was curious enough to see where the story was going.   And, as I said, the ending leaves an opening for Season 2.

The big problem for me here was not necessarily the subject matter.   The issue is the actor who plays the Russian hockey player that forms the duo above.    He clearly isn't Russian and his acting is horrible.   It's sort of like the return of Boris Badanov from Rocky and Bullwinkle Land.   This guy's work is so bad that it ultimately makes the whole thing unviewable.

Again, that's what I get for listening to pre-Zoom call buzz.   And, one more time...ladies, what the hell am I missing?

Dinner last night:  Leftover steak.

Monday Morning Video Laugh - February 9, 2026

 The month of weather continues.  Here's a bad idea.

Dinner last night:  Ribeye steak in the air dryer with cherry tomatoes in balsamic sauce.

The Sunday Memory Drawer - What's Up Doc?

 

I've been watching the Dr. Kildare TV series via DVD over the past several years and I marvel at just how good this show was.   And realistic.   They didn't save the patient all the time.  It made me more envious of the medical profession.   If you find yourself with a good doctor, make sure you hold onto them.  If you live your doctor, please try and keep your doctor, regardless of what your health plan says.   
I'm blessed with a great internist who would fit very well alongside the likes of Dr. James Kildare and Dr. Leonard Gillespie.  So much of what they do is detective work.   Taking the clues at hand and solving somebody's health mystery.

And, thinking again of the blog title today, I remember a medical poser from a February 11 years ago and it involved me.   Now, in the last four years, I have had four surgeries.   Two knees replaced.  A hip replaced.   Most recently, four hernias repairs like Costco had them on sale.

But there was a time in the past where I truly didn't know what was wrong with me.

Let's flip the calendar pages.  Super Bowl Sunday, 2015.  Two bouts of fifteen-minute-long chest and upper back pains followed by about five hours the next day of wild fever with temperatures all over the FM dial.   Teeth chattering like when Stymie saw a ghost.  

Given the season, my doctor wrote it off as the flu, even though I hadn't gotten the flu since New Year's Eve of freshman year in college.   Okay, a five-day course of Tamiflu knocks its all out and I go about my crazy business.

A couple of weeks later, I head to New York for some work and even more play.  Three Broadway shows, to boot.  On the plane home (in coach, thank you very much), I know that I am feeling more dehydrated than usual.   I chalk that up to the sandwich I brought on board---proscuitto and provolone from my favorite Yonkers Italian deli.   I get home and ingest every container of liquid in the house, stopping before I swig the Tide detergent.

The next day, I proceed to my regular office for Thursdays.  No issue.

On Friday, I work from home.  My stereo guy comes and finally figures why my back speaker keeps cutting out.  An errant nail.   A good day so far.   I head to the gym to see my trainer for the first time in a week.   All stretching and massages.   No weights.   

As she and I are walking out of the facility, I could feel it come like the 6:02 express from Croton-Harmon.  I get into my car and I am immediately consumed by upper back pain.   Hello, Super Bowl Sunday all over again.

What the fudge?

Just like last month, it goes away in a quarter-hour.  I'm pain-free the rest of the night.

On Saturday, I head to the super market for grocery shopping.   By the time I get home, I am abdomen-deep in round two.   The same exact pain as yesterday.  The same exact pain as early February.   In fifteen minutes, it's gone.

What the fudge again?

So, now like a trusted "I Love Lucy" rerun,  I start waiting for the funny line that's going to come next.  After this all transpired last month, the fever should come like clockwork.  I decided not to wait.   Knowing that my doctor's office is part of a cooperative in the same building, I am aware that there is always one physician on duty every weekend.  I hit the digits.

The nurse on the other end dutifully heard everything I said and then asked the obvious question.

"Did the fever start yet?"

No.   But it's expected here sooner than Easter.   She tells me to play it by ear and assured that it would be wise for me to make an in-person the next day.   

Of course, the fever was delayed a little bit.   Its arrival came at 5PM.   This time it's worse than the month before.   I take my temperature so much that I feel like the Thanksgiving turkey.  I hit degree heights that aren't even on the FM dial yet.

And my mind begins to wander to places all over the medical map.   So is this the flu again?   Or is it something else and I really didn't have the flu in February?  

I crawled my way to the doctor on Sunday morning.  My guy wasn't on duty and the one who was....well, he was a nice guy but certainly not the one I have trusted with my health for over a decade.   He asked all the usual, annoying questions.

 "Have you been out of the country lately?"

No.

"Have you been working in Africa recently?"

I don't have Ebola.  No.

"Have there been any weird sexual partners?"

Seriously?   No.   

After he asked every question except the ones James Lipton asks at the end of every Actor's Studio interviews, he drew the requisite blood and promised to have the results that night.  Oh, would I also provide a urine sample?

Sure.

And, as I did so, something happened that only occurred one other time in my life.   That was after a kidney stone.   And, just as I did then, I peed...well...what you see a lot of in a Vincent Price movie.

I walked out of the bathroom and told Dr. Sherlock Holmes I had just given him his first clue.

So, if you have to expend liquid that looks like the opening of Walt Disney's Wonderful World of Color, you might as well do it in a doctor's office.   Had this happened at home, I would have freaked out.   As it was, I already was spending way too much time typing my symptoms into Google.   Rule of thumb?   When you have something wrong with you, don't spend too much time typing your symptoms into Google.   You'll discover that even a clogged sinus will take you straight to cancer.

But I will admit that my mind was already in race mode.   And thinking about what the hell was going with my body that had a perfect blood test during my annual physical in December.  

As promised, the substitute doctor called me that night with the blood test results.  My bilirubins were spiked.  That's part of the blood attached to your gall bladder and liver.  Or so I learned that night.  I was told to follow up with my regular internist on Monday.  Meanwhile, I was happy to announce that the color of urine had moved to a dull orange.  Yep, those are the bilirubins.   Or so I learned that night.

Waiting for the next day and trying to sleep that Sunday night, I tried to put it all aside.  Let the doctor do what he's got to do.   But there was one action I could take.

I stopped taking my Celebrex.   That's medication for arthritis and I had been on the stuff since my knee surgery three years ago.  And I just had a feeling that, when all was said and pronounced, those side effects they rattle through during TV commercials would be part of my problem.

Luckily, I had a consult with my own physician on Monday morning.   He wanted to systematically rule things out.   And the only way to do that would be a series of tests personally designed to address my health and simultaneously help me hit my 2015 deductible of $ 5,000 in the course of one March week.

Ultrasound of gall bladder to see if I had stones?  Negative.

CAT scan of abdomen complete with lots of nasty stuff to drink that hardly qualifies as a smoothie at Jamba Juice?  Negative.

MRI of liver just to be sure?  Coming soon, but nothing expected wrong with the liver.  Or the bacon or the onions.

So, at the end of the week, I had essentially bought a new diagnostic machine for St. John's Tower Imaging.   And I was no closer to finding out just what had made me so sick.   Twice.

As my doctor told me, it's all about body chemistry.  Mine had gotten out of whack.   Of course, I decided once and for all that I wouldn't let that balance be upset again.

I decided to reboot myself.  As far as my life was concerned, I was hitting control-alt-delete.

Lots and lots and lots more hydration.

Frequently ditching diet soda for fruit juices and lemonade.

Changing ever so slightly my healthy diet and making it even healthier.  Although I would still eat sausage and peppers if pressed to do so.

Heck, that last dish is still a lot healthier than ingesting Celebrex.  Those, by the way, have gone the way of my memory toilet.

Flush.

Dinner last night:   Sausage and salad.

Classic TV Commercial of the Month - February 2026

Why do I foresee some broken limbs? 

Dinner last night:  Salisbury steak.

The Ground Mugs of 2026

 

Too cheap to get a haircut for the whole head.

Voted "Most Likely to Be Scared in a Haunted House."

A real ass kissing.

Arrested for licking the sugar off a box of donuts.

Just met his new prison roommate...in the shower.

Hold still.  This is for the jailhouse yearbook.

If second helpings are a criminal offense, this one's in for life.

You're supposed to blow dry both sides.

Why buy an easel when a face will do just fine?

"Go ahead.  Hit me.  I dare you."

Dinner last night:  Hamburger.

Moron of the Month - February 2026

 

One of the more audacious and comical moments of the last two weeks was the antics of this idiot in the truly fucked up city of Minneapolis.   Indeed, it was three words that had me rolling on the floor.

"Journalist Don Lemon."

Now pardon me while I convulse in laughter all over again.  Because Don Lemon is as much of a journalist as I am the right fielder for the Los Angeles Dodgers. To call him an unbiased reporter is a blatant lie.   And, frankly, I thought we were rid of this bozo several years ago when CNN shitcanned him and he was exiled to a life of picking fights in gay bars out at the Hamptons.

But, in this day of everybody can have a podcast and/or a YouBoob Channel, Lemon lives to ruin yet another day.   Most recently, one of his antics designed to increase likes and subscriptions on his social media landed him in jail.   In reality, he might like the showers there.   Nevertheless, Lemon's stupidity was on a premium showcase two weeks ago when he decided to infiltrate the ICE drama going on in Minneapolis.

It was Lemon's objective to confront ICE in a church during their worship service.  This was not the goal of getting a balanced and unbiased story.  Nope, his goal was to attack ICE and the B-roll video he shot pretty much provides the back-up.   And, just for good measure, Don kept providing his social media links and reminded viewers to subscribe and hit the like button.   This was not about investigating a story.   This was all about clicks and thumbs going way up.

Except the antics got him arrested because this schmuck totally forgot that, to disrupt a worship service in America, is a federal crime.   Whoops.  It looks like Lemon skipped that day's class in 10th grade American History.

Lemon tried to hide behind freedom of the press but that brings me back to my current favorite three words in the English language.

"Journalist Don Lemon."

Dinner last night:  Salad.

This Date in History - February 4

 

Happy February 4.   An earthshaking day.  As you will read.

211:  ROMAN EMPEROR SEPTIMIUS SEVERUS DIES AT EBORACUM WHILE PREPARING TO LEAD A CAMPAIGN AGAINST THE CALDEONIANS.  HE LEAVES THE EMPIRE IN THE CONTROL OF HIS TWO QUARRELING SONS.

So you thought that Game of Thrones was intriguing?

960:  THE CORONATION OF ZHAO KUANGYIN AS EMPEROR TAIZU OF SONG, INITIATING THE SONG DYNASTY PERIOD OF CHINA THAT WOULD LAST MORE THAN THREE CENTURIES.

Three hundred years of song.  Just like Tony Bennett.

1169:  A STRONG EARTHQUAKE STRIKES SICILY, CAUSING TENS OF THOUSANDS OF INJURIES AND DEATH.

One.

1703:  IN EDO (NOW TOKYO), 46 OF THE FORTY-SEVEN RONIN COMMIT SEPPUKU (RITUAL SUICIDE).

Seppuku.  Not to confused with Sudoku.

1789:  GEORGE WASHINGTON IS UNANIMOUSLY ELECTED AS THE FIRST PRESIDENT OF THE US BY THE ELECTORAL COLLEGE.

It's all downhill from here.

1797:  THE RIOBAMBA EARTHQUAKE STRIKES ECUADOR, CAUSING UP TO 40,000 CASUALTIES.

Two.

1825:  THE OHIO LEGISLATURE AUTHORIZES THE CONSTRUCTION OF THE OHIO AND ERIE CANAL.

The good news?   Not an earthquake.

1846:  THE FIRST MORMON PIONEERS MAKE THEIR EXODUS FROM ILLINOIS TOWARDS SALT LAKE CITY.

Here comes the Osmonds.

1861:  IN ALABAMA, DELEGATES FROM SIX BREAK-AWAY US STATES MEET AND FORM THE CONFEDERATE STATES OF AMERICA.

You Yankee bastards.

1902:  PILOT CHARLES LINDBERGH IS BORN.

Future Nazi sympathizer.

1915:  ACTOR WILLIAM TALMAN IS BORN.

Perry Mason's Hamilton Berger.

1918:  ACTRESS IDA LUPINO IS BORN.

Howard Duff's former wife.

1923:  ACTOR CONRAD BAIN IS BORN.

Gary Coleman's adopted father.

1936:  RADIUM BECOMES THE FIRST RADIOACTIVE ELEMENT TO BE MADE SYNTHETICALLY.

Glow in the dark.

1941:  THE USO IS CREATED TO ENTERTAIN AMERICAN TROOPS.

And to give Bob Hope an excuse to avoid Dolores during the holidays.

1945:  THE YALTA CONFERENCE BETWEEN CHURCHILL, ROOSEVELT, AND STALIN OCCURS IN THE CRIMEA.

This would ultimately be FDR's last trip abroad.

1966:  ALL NIPPON AIRWAYS FLIGHT 60 PLUNGES INTO TOKYO BAY, KILLING 133.

Unlike Malaysian Airways, they know what happened to this plane.

1969:  YASSER ARAFAT TAKES OVER AS CHAIRMAN OF THE PLO.

Yessir, Yasser.

1971:  MAYOR ERIC GARCETTI IS BORN.

The new Mayor of Los Angeles.  Which means we finally got rid of the old Mayor, that lummox Villaraigosa.

1974:  THE SYMBIONESE LIBERATION ARMY KIDNAPS PATTY HEARST IN BERKELEY, CALIFORNIA.

When will they release here?   What's the hold up?

1975:  THE HAICHENG, CHINA EARTHQUAKE.

Three.

1976:  AN EARTHQUAKE KILLS MORE THAN 22,000 IN GUATEMALA AND HONDURAS.

Four.

1977:  A CHICAGO TRANSIT AUTHORITY ELEVATED TRAIN REAR-ENDS ANOTHER AND KILLS 11, THE WORST ACCIDENT IN THE AGENCY'S HISTORY.

But, at least, it wasn't during one of their lake-effect blizzards.

1983:  SINGER KAREN CARPENTER DIES.

From Top of the World to....

1987:  PIANIST LIBERACE DIES.

He died of AIDs???   How is that possible???

1998:  A 6.1 EARTHQUAKE KILLS MORE THAN 5,000 IN AFGHANISTAN.

Five.

2004:  FACEBOOK IS FOUNDED.

Like this.

2005:  ACTOR OSSIE DAVIS DIES.

Don't you wish he was once married to Harriet Tubman?

2006:  ACTIVIST BETTY FRIEDAN DIES.

No mistake.  Or mystique.

2018:  ACTOR JOHN MAHONEY DIES.

The unsung cast member from "Frasier."

Dinner last night:   Smoked beef sausage.

These Are Starting To Sting

 

Now wherever I turn, there is sad news from Hollywood.  They're bringing up that old gang of mine.  Movie stars I enjoyed as contemporaries.  Robert Redford.  Diane Keaton.

We're all a little closer to the end than we are to the beginning.

The latest loss is Catherine O'Hara and the sting is a little sharper.   I've enjoyed her comedic work in a variety of movies as well as the SCTV show.  Another person we will all miss.

Thinking about her career, one of the more unsung performances she gave is in the "Home Alone" franchise. Indeed, amidst all the crazy slapstick, Catherine gives the movies some heart and she effectively grounds the whole film.   

Check it out next Christmas and you will see what I mean.  

Regardless, the loss then will still hurt.

Dinner last night:  Sandwich.

Monday Morning Video Laugh - February 2, 2026

 February...the month of weather.

Dinner last night:  Baby back ribs at the Smoke House.

The Sunday Memory Drawer - My First Ever Movie

 

The Oscar nominations came out and nobody cares.   There are other ways to celebrate movies.  For instance, how about a flashback to my very, very first foray into a cinema?

Of course, knowing me, you know it couldn't have gone smoothly.  The location of the disaster is shown above.  The wonderful Loews Theater right across from City Hall in Mount Vernon, New York.  Well, that's where it used to be.  It's nothing but a dumpy parking lot now and just another sterling example of how my hometown has turned into nothing but a toxic waste dump raped and pillaged by a conga line of inept and crooked politicians over the past three decades.  A hamlet that used to have two beautiful movie palaces now has none.  As soon as my one friend still residing there moves out, the whole city can easily be blown off the Google map. 

But I digress...

Back to the movies, I can remember that they were a big part of my mom's life.  She was always reading the fan magazines.  Photoplay.  Modern Screen.  TV/Radio Mirror.  At least one night a week and with my dad working evenings, she was off to the theater with her girlfriend, Ronnie, who was a dead ringer for Susan Hayward herself.  I always knew they had been to the movies if I found a box of Pom Poms or Milk Duds on the kitchen table.  The breakfast of four-year-old champions.

If my mother and Ronnie weren't at the movies, they were on the phone talking about what they had just seen or what they were planning to check out the next week.  And they'd gossip about some of the screen stars as if they knew them.

"Maurice Chevalier looked a little bloated in Gigi."

"Did you see how bloodshot Eleanor Parker's eyes were in Home From the Hill?"

"Do you think Kirk Douglas dyed his hair for Spartacus?"

I can only imagine how catty they were with people they actually knew.

Nevertheless, I guess my mom couldn't wait to include me in her movie going world.  I couldn't have been more than four years old when I was considered cinema ready.

And, from my vivid recollection, my very first movie would be...

Perfect entertainment for somebody my age.  And, oh, look, "it's colorsome."

So, on one warm weekday afternoon, Mom walked me down Stevens Avenue to Loews for the first of what would be thousands of motion picture experiences for yours truly.

Except...

I remember the huge and glorious edifice being empty.  It was the first show of the day and apparently even a colorsome movie like Tom Thumb wasn't packing them in just yet.   We made the long climb to the balcony, which was my mother's prime viewing location.  Why?  It was the smoking section.

I probably was in awe of my surroundings.  It was so eerily quiet.  But the hall was very pretty.  And the velvet curtain that faced us all.

Moments later, the lights began to dim.

Uh oh, what's happening?

The curtain slowly started to inch its way apart to reveal a huge white wall.  

Suddenly, this all didn't look so inviting.  I had no clue what was happening.  But none of it looked good.  And I reacted the way any well-adjusted child would.

I started to scream.

'WHHHHAAAAAAAA!   WHHHAAAAAAAAAAA!"

My mom was so off-put that she probably had to douse her cigarette.  What the hell was wrong with me?

"WHHHHHAAAAAAA!  WHHHHAAAAAAAAAA!"

If there was anybody else in the theater at that moment, I am sure they were complaining to the manager.  Can you shut that freakin' kid up?

Mom had no luck with me.  This freakin' kid wouldn't shut up.  I sounded like Lucy Ricardo on the umpteenth time that Ricky wouldn't let her be in the show down at the Tropicana.

There would be no Tom Thumb for me that afternoon. 

I think I stopped the histrionics several blocks away.  And re-ignited them  anew when Mom had her say.

"You've wasted my money, today, young man."

Young man?  Okay, I was four.

With a great flourish, my mother ripped apart the two movie tickets.  Wasted money, indeed.  The tickets were probably no more than fifty cents each.  Needless to say, the rest of my afternoon was spent in my room.  A just punishment for having squandered my family's fortune.

Not wanting to repeat the scream fest ever again, my mother got smart at how to get around my "dimming lights/curtain parting" phobia.  For the next two years whenever I was taken to the movies, we arrived ten minutes into the first feature.  I clearly recall one afternoon while we hung around Hartley Park just up the street from the RKO Proctors theater.  The show had started at 1PM.  My mom looked at her watch.

"1:15PM.  I guess we can go in now."

Now, this late arrival trend was admittedly a little strange.  And it couldn't have gotten more bizarre on the occasion where I first remembered ever going to the movies with not one, but both of my parents.  And I previously told this particular saga when I wrote about my Top 25 Favorite Films.  The movie that came in at # 2....

"Some Like It Hot" holds a very special place in my own personal film history, as it was the very first time I heard a movie theater audience laugh. Out loud. I was very, very, very young, but I distinctly remember going to Loews' Mount Vernon theater to see it. It was even more noteworthy since it was probably the only time I ever went to an indoor theater with both my parents in tow. Back in those days, your neighborhood movie house ran two pictures and you frequently didn't pay attention to start times. You just showed up when you wanted to. There were many times when we would show up and see the final 20 minutes of one movie, see the next one, and then leave at the exact spot where we came in. Very weird and I would never even fathom doing that today.

We inexplicably arrived to see "Some Like It Hot" about ten minutes from the end. I remember very little except that it was the big chase scene through the hotel. And the audience was roaring with laughter. I did not know what to make of it all. Many years later, I truly understood.

There is not one single wasted moment or line of dialogue in this whole movie. Every word has a purpose and a function. And, more importantly, it gets you to where Billy Wilder wants you. In the palm of his hand. Laughing hysterically till it hurt. I've read the screenplay several times and it is a master course in film comedy. It should be used as a textbook in film schools all over the country.

I've seen "Some Like It Hot" probably 30 or 40 times in my life. It never gets old or repetitive. I've seen it on TV and on the big screen. It never gets any less funnier than it was the very first time. When I walked into that Loews theater across from City Hall in Mount Vernon.

And heard all those people enjoying a truly phenomenal movie.

Oddly enough, there are days now where I crave to see a curtain open up to reveal a movie screen.  Nothing excites me more.  You sadly see it done any more.  The Alex Theater in Glendale does it.  The Bruin and the Fox Westwood Theaters do it.  But, otherwise, it is a lost art.

And just when I got over that screaming thing...

Dinner last night:  Hamburger at Fanny's.