Classic TV Commercial of the Month - April 2010

Just in time for the baseball season. This Rheingold Beer ad, as voiced by Mets announcer Bob Murphy, had to have been seen by me countless times when I was a kid. Probably ran constantly during Met games.

But, my family was a Schaefer household. Just so you know.

Dinner last night: French dip at the Arclight.

I Think I Went to a Tea Party

And just so you know, this is the only kind of tea I really drink. Diet Snapple with Lemon is preferred.

I don't need to burden you with the hows and whys this happened, but one day last week found me at the Ronald Reagan Library in Simi Valley for a Sean Hannity event. I was in the front row for the radio broadcast in a packed auditorium. There were whoops and hollers and lots of applause. Plenty of discussion calling for the mass firing of Nancy Pelosi, Harry Reid and even President Obummer. Not through any means of violence, but the good ole electoral process. You get the general idea.

Yep, I suppose this was a Tea Party of sorts. The only problem is that I missed some of the Tea Party elements that have been reported on with great glee by the media.

I didn't see homosexuals being pummeled.

I didn't see Jews being beaten.

I didn't see Blacks being forced to shine shoes.

Oh, and the esteemed "N" word that is supposedly dropped around willy nilly at Tea Parties like Tic Tacs? The only "N" word I heard?

"Len, have you got a piece of gum?"

"No."

That's as "N" as it got.

What I did hear and see was a lively discussion of one side of the issues. Forget the fact that I pretty much sit firmly on that very one side of the issues. If Nancy Pelosi or Obummer were to be bounced from their jobs tomorrow, I'd be the first to call down to the mailroom for a packing box. But, still, what I watched was an honest and respectable dialogue from the right side of the political aisle. Nothing sinister here or there. No swastika posters hoisted overhead. No Nazi symbols emblazoned on photos of POTUS. No DVDs of movies called "The Assassination of Barack Obama" or "The Assassination of Harry Reid."

Of course, during the former Presidential administration, we did see all of the above from the left side of the political aisle. Swastika posters hoisted overhead. Nazi symbols emblazoned on photos of the then-POTUS. DVDS of movies called "The Assassination of George Bush" or "The Assassination of Richard Nixon."

Double standards available 24/7. Having cake and eating it, too.

And you are viewed as less than normal if you differ slightly. For instance, during one of the show's breaks, a work colleague who apparently didn't buy into any of the day's rhetoric was obviously distressed by the discussion.

"After listening to this, we should both go home and take a shower."

Quite the bold assumption. Because he thought so, I naturally was in agreement? I wanted to answer back as succinctly as possible.

"No shower needed for me. You'll have to wash your own back."

My colleague raised an eyebrow. With a little surprise and a whole lot of disdain.

"Oh???"

Yes, oh. Because, let's face it, in this most polarized of all countries, there's at least one-half of the populace that doesn't agree with what's going on. These days, from what I could tell at this event, there are a whole lot more.

I had a similar experience last month while flying back from NY. In my newfound campaign to read more, I had cracked open once again conservative radio host Mark Levin's "Liberty and Tyranny," a marvelous juxtaposition of current day politics to what was originally framed in the United States Constitution by our forefathers. As I read the book while stuck in an equipment snafu at the gate, I suddenly felt a pair of eyes on me. The guy in 23F. Eyeing what I was reading. And shaking his head. The more I turned the pages, the more I aggravated him. Ray Bradbury, where are you when needed?

I wanted to say something snarky to this jackass. I did nothing. I just kept reading. And resolved to never apologize again for what I say, read, or believe.

So, let's get this out in the open right now. Certainly no surprises for any of the regular readers to this daily hamster wheel called "Len Speaks."

I am registered in California as an Independent. But, back in NY, I was registered as a Republican.

I will always tend towards the conservative side, most particularly with regard to economic spending.

I am a very generous person and not a racist, but I am very strongly against entitlements to certain members of the population who expect them.

I am of the opinion that the sooner we recognize those segments of our population still exist to this day, the better off we will be.

I am against an overly imposing federal government.

I don't think the health care system needs to be totally reformed. Go back to the previous statement on entitlements and that will explain why.

I am supportive of a strong military, as I know that there are many longstanding enemies of the United States in this world. These grudges and conflicts didn't pop out of nowhere over the course of the last eight years.

On a social basis, I am pro-choice as long as there are medical reasons behind the necessary actions.

I am in favor of leaving my fellow man alone. They can believe what they want, say what they want, and marry whom they want. As long as I receive the same reciprocal treatment.

I am most supremely proud to be an American.

Have these messages been conveyed successfully? I sure hope so. If you agree, fine. If you disagree, fine. Just don't judge me if we're not on the same page. Because you'll get it right back.

In spades.

And I'm talking about the playing card. But, then again, you never know these days what is allowed in the course of your given day.

Watching a news network last week on an apparent slow day, there was a crawl talking about Obama being "the first President to use a Blackberry."

At what point will somebody complain about this statement and adapt it to read "the first President to use an African American Berry?"

Hey, I'm just thinking what I'm told.

Dinner last night: Grilled teriyaki chicken.

My Sights and Sounds: The El Capitan Theater

This is my first attempt at uploading some video from my Flip camera. Given it looks to be successful, welcome to my newest feature. Enjoying the sights and sounds of my life.

Here's a wonderful little clip of the pre-show entertainment at the delightful El Capitan Theater. The organ playing reminds me of the Radio City Music Hall. The pans and scans are done to show you some of the theater decorations installed for the current film playing there---"Alice in Wonderland."

I apologize in advance for the assholes who kept looking for their seats in front of me. Such barbarians! Some people will do anything to make an appearance in my blog.

Dinner last night: Sausage pizza at Maria's Italian Kitchen.

A Black and White Wednesday

If they can co-exist so well on a cookie, why not in America?

---Here's why.

---Have you filled out your Census yet? Are you conflicted over your race and ethnicity?

---If so, you've got plenty of company. For instance, take the President.

---Please. Thank you, Henny Youngman.

---After reminding us constantly that it was not about race and that he had a White mother and grandmother, Obummer fills out his form and checks the box "Black."

---Well, that settles that.

---Not that it makes.

---They kept telling us it didn't.

---Of course, at the same time, they kept reminding us that it did.

---But, what the hell, I wrote down that I was Chinese.

---What's even more laughable are these allegations that tea parties are nothing but Klan meetings. I went to one last week and I didn't see a single white sheet.

---Although I did see some white pants and it's not even Memorial Day.

---These days, there's only discrimination and racism when the Democrats want to bring it up.

---At the end of the day, what difference does it make if the Census thinks you're White, Black, or Yellow? Aren't you still just one person regardless?

---Er, probably not.

---And I just realized that I forgot to mention the twelve Indians living in my walk-in closet.

---Somebody asked Obummer a question about health care and he talked for seventeen minutes.

---With the teleprompter, it would have been sixteen minutes.

---This is a guy who needs Cliff Notes to answer the question "what time is it?"

---"Er, time? Well, that's a good question. Hmm, time? Okay, when George Bush was President, nobody cared about time."

---"Now, the Republicans...they'll mention time and then accuse you of hiding it. But, you ask me the time and I can tell you what it is."

---"Time is ultimately unimportant in the great scheme of things. I was thinking about the correct time when I was doing my NCAA brackets just the other day."

---"Okay, what was the question again?"

---Meanwhile, POTUS threw out the first ball at the Washington Nationals' home opener.

---The pitch was off the mark and way to the left. The usual.

---Afterwards, Obummer was interviewed about his hometown team, the Chicago White Sox. And couldn't recall the name of a single player.

---But remembered that the team played in Co-minsky Park.

---I wonder if he was there the night they raided Co-minsky's.

---Have you seen a bigger hunk of junk than the iPad??

---Who the fuck wants to carry around a snack tray all day?

---I can read a magazine, too. Without the iPad. Wanna know who?

---I buy the friggin' magazine and open it!

---The thing weighs a pound and a half. An average magazine is how many ounces??

---How stupid a public are we?

---I'll tell you. We watch programs like "Dancing with the Stars" and "Real Housewives."

---If you wonder why God is giving us mine disasters and earthquakes, he's monitoring our television viewing.

---And to those of you who checked in with me after the Easter Sunday earthquake, thank you.

---To those of you who didn't...well, you weren't getting much money from my will anyway.

Dinner last night: Egg salad sandwich.

My Mother Rhonda Fleming

Or so I wish.

I would say that Rhonda Fleming was my first celebrity crush. And I was probably nine or ten years old at the time.

Was I a particularly horny youngster? Nah.

I didn't want Rhonda Fleming to be my girlfriend. I wanted her to be my mother.

This blog will now pause for ten seconds so you can roll your eyes.

Blame it all on our new color television. And NY's WOR Channel 9 which ran "Million Dollar Movie."

When that hulky Zenith console first made its appearance in our home, we'd watch anything and everything in color. Just because it wasn't in black and white. Our household became TV junkies. And I was the biggest addict of all. Even the early morning test pattern looked damn color in shades of red, blue, and green.

So, when the in-glorious-Technicolor "Big Circus" landed on "Million Dollar Movie," it was just one more thing for me to gobble up. A nifty movie with hues that jumped out and caressed your eyes. And the WOR-TV format for "Million Dollar Movie" lended to repeat viewings. You see, they ran the same movie over and over for an entire week. Once a night and then all day Saturday and Sunday.

I watched "The Big Circus" every single time. And reveled in this neat red-headed lady Rhonda Fleming playing circus publicist Helen Harrison.

Who was this woman? She had it all together. She was smart. She was funny. She knew her job. She was in complete control. Looks were secondary as far as I was concerned.

Wouldn't it be neat for me to bring her into school on Parent-Teacher Night? Wouldn't Miss Lipsius, my homeroom teacher, be impressed when Rhonda Fleming came in to discuss how well I was doing with arithmetic?

In retrospect, I realize now that I was essentially dissing my own mother with this fervent wish that I had been adopted elsewhere. Of course, she didn't have the flashy red hair, but Mom wouldn't exactly give you a stye either.

Yet, still....Rhonda Fleming! Making my Taylor Ham sandwich and laying out exactly five pimento-stuffed olives for lunch? How neat that would be for little goofy me?

It's not like I followed Miss Fleming's career elsewhere. I don't think I saw her in anything else. It was simply how she was and looked in that single circus yarn that made me quiver. In a kid sort of way.

Of course, "The Big Circus" disappeared from sight for years and years after that. So, even if I wanted to turn my Rhonda Fleming love into Rhonda Fleming lust, it wasn't available for me to revisit. The movie never really got to VHS or DVD, a fact that I even discussed with one of its co-stars, Kathryn Grant Crosby, a few years back. Ultimately, Warner Brothers released it on DVD as part of their new archive store.

And Rhonda Fleming looks just as good to me now as she did when I wanted her to tuck me decades ago.

So, when I learned that Miss Fleming herself was going to be making an appearance at the Egyptian Theater's annual Film Noir festival, I just had to go and see her in-person.

At last. And, as a result, I finally saw her act in another movie. Some sultry little yarn called "Cry Danger" with Dick Powell.

Afterwards, she did the usual Q & A and signed some autographs. My digital camera and I got up close. She obviously still looks remarkable.

My friend suggested that I ask her to pose with me for a photo. And then I could explain to her that, as a child, I had wanted her to be my mother.

I didn't bother.

That would have provided a reason for somebody to call theater security. And fast.

I went home without a true Rhonda Fleming connection.

I realized that one mother had been more than enough for my lifetime.

Dinner last night: Grilled chicken and broccoli pasta salad.

Monday Morning Video Laugh - April 5, 2010

This is a real commercial! How did Gilbert Gottfried do the voiceover and keep a straight face?

Dinner last night: Pasta with proscuitto and bread crumbs.

The Sunday Memory Drawer - Easter Sunday 1998

For years after I left my childhood church in the Bronx, my only forays into any kind of worship were via weddings or funerals. And, most of the time, these were held in Catholic churches. Each time, I could feel the disdain of my grandmother from wherever her spirit now resides. But, as strong as my worship habit was when I was a kid, I just as easily fell into several decades of laziness. I became a card carrying member of that worldwide group.

"Spiritual But Not Religious."

I was sleeping in on Sunday mornings. I was reading the paper and doing the crossword puzzle. I was reveling in the comic strip exploits of Blondie and Marmaduke.

I wasn't going to church. Just like my parents, I had inexplicably and perhaps irrevocably shut down my religion.

Until I moved to Los Angeles.

Well, actually, the thoughts of returning to a church had begun during my last years in NY. I had looked around a little for a new Lutheran church that I could call home. The only problem was that most in my area were not fulltime organizations. You could show up at the building at certain times and find a Lutheran service. If you read the sign wrong, you'd wind up at a Chinese Buddhist service. Most of the Lutheran churches around me had to rent out their facilities to anybody and everybody.

After I moved west, the nagging desire for a bit more religion became a bit more acute. And I wanted to use the experience as a means of meeting some new friends.

Easter Sunday 1998 seemed like as good a date as any to begin the process.

On the Saturday before, I set out to find myself a church for the next day. By simply going through the church directory that is always printed in the Los Angeles Times. I knew that I wanted a Lutheran church not affiliated with the Missouri Synod, which is just an inch or two removed from the Third Reich. Location was also an issue. I didn't want to drive more than fifteen minutes. God was important, but he also needed to be damn convenient.

I literally reviewed the names of the churches in the directory. Hmm, that one sounds boring. Hmm, that one sounds a little too big. I was Goldilocks sipping the porridge of the Three Bears. Suddenly, a name sang out to me.

Village Lutheran Church.

Awwww, how homey.

On a street called Church Lane.

How hokey can you get?

I was sold.

An amazing thing happened as I entered Village Lutheran Church in the Brentwood Glen area of Los Angeles that Easter Sunday morning.

It looked just like St. Peter's in the Bronx. Almost eerily the same. I began to wonder if this was just another stop on the BX 41 bus route. And was my dad outside in the car reading the newspaper?

Oh, there were some head spinning differences. A lady pastor, for one. That alone would have sent the oldtimers at St. Peter's in the Bronx into cardiac arrest. But, other than that, the actual worship service was exactly as I had left it years ago. This was an extremely comfortable old sweater that still fit perfectly.

Nevertheless, I was completely self-conscious walking into this new unchartered territory. I sat way in the back.

And then another miracle happened. The Sunday after Easter, I yearned to go back.

I sat one row closer to the front. And felt an even warmer feeling. Even though I talked to no one. This was my equivalent of stepping into a swimming pool. I was going to get wet one skin pore at a time.

Each week, there was a coffee and cake hour in the fellowship hall after service. I was always invited in. And, each week, I always had something to do.

This was starting not to sit well with Florence, the old lady in the pew across from me. During the always uncomfortable "sharing of the peace," she'd always grab my hand a little harder.

"What's your name again?"

I'd tell her.

"So, Glenn, when are you coming in for coffee?"

Errrrrrrrr.

"Glenn, we're expecting you next week."

Errrrrrrrrr.

Florence meant business. I was convinced that, even weighted down with her walker, she could kick my ass. I'd later discover that Florence was an actress. She had done years on Broadway. She knew James Dean. She was one of the only two Broadway cast members to travel west to do the screen version of "The Rose Tattoo." The other was its star Anna Magnani. Later on, she'd be a regular on "The Life of Riley" with William Bendix. She'd play one of the hookers in "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid." And portray Barbara Eden's mother on "I Dream of Jeannie."

But, for now, she was acting as a thorn in my very shy side. And the role was quite convincing.

The next week, I lowered my head and stepped into the lion's den for coffee. Talking to people I didn't know.

It was fine.

And, thanks to a lot of really special friends, I have been at Village Lutheran Church ever since.

But there's a lot more to the story and that will be for another time. Happy Easter!
Dinner last night: BBQ Ribs at Hooters.