Monday Morning Video Laugh - November 7, 2011

There are no words...

Dinner last night:  Filet mignon, roasted potatoes, and broccoli.

The Sunday Memory Drawer - The First Time I Set Foot in California

Sometimes, it's very mythical how this Sunday Memory Drawer evolves.  In its earliest conception, this weekly blog entry was designed to be a homage to my grandmother, who would sit on a Sunday afternoon and start telling me some story from the past.  One Sunday would not necessarily connect to the next.  It was all a little free form.

And, so has been my Sunday Memory Drawer.  There are times when I plan it out as if I am invading Normandy.  There are other weeks where an idle conversation or thought taps my mental keg of wonderment.

And so was the case this week.

I had to drive down to Huntington Beach with some colleagues on business.  For those of you not in Southern California, "HB" is about forty miles to the south of Los Angeles.  A very nifty bedroom community in Orange County with arguably the most desirable and cleanest beach in the whole state.

I was standing in a parking lot with one work friend.  I was looking around the vista and a thought sprang into my head.  And left my mouth almost as fast.

"Huntington Beach is the place where I spent my first ever night in California."

Suddenly, I remembered I was in proximity to my own personal history.  I certainly couldn't tell you where this actually happened.  I had no feel for the terrain, but I do recall it was a motel room that had a kitchen.

And, correcting myself, I realized that the first time I ever slept in this state, it was daytime and not nighttime.

Huh, you say?

I will explain.

Well, I already explained it here several years ago.  But, heck, my grandmother would tell a tale more than once.  Why can't I? 

It started so simply. Just out of college and looking to be a star in Hollywood, even though I still barely could get out of Mount Vernon. Looking longingly at the West Coast, palm trees, and live studio audience tapings, I wanted to visit badly. But, given my recent graduate status, money was a premium. Actually, it was virtually non-existent.

But, from Heaven above, an opportunity landed from the clouds. Well, really, on the telephone. My college roommate and best friend had miraculously been the one to actually land a job in the profession he was pursuing. As a junior reporter, his assignment was to travel with an all-girls softball team to a tournament in Huntington Beach. He was getting there on cross country bus, but, once in SoCal, there was a hotel room that was easily shared. How fast could I get there?

Hmmm, let me see. An all-girls softball team (this is prior to the days where I would automatically assume that they were all lesbians). A free hotel room. A place near Los Angeles (this is prior to the days where I would learn that Huntington Beach is an hour away from anything worthwhile in Hollywood). And the word "beach" was in the city's name. How fast can I get there?

Is tomorrow too soon?

I quickly made plans to get a flight within the week. The logistics were met with my father's usual rousing support.

"What the hell do you wanna go there for?"

Thanks, Dad. One more time. Nevertheless, I forged ahead with what little scratch I had. In those days, you could get cheap flights if you flew on the red eye. In what would be the very first of many subsequent flights on American Airlines (I am a member of the Million Mile Club, thank you very much), I scheduled a Sunday night 9PM flight from JFK. And, begrudgingly, my father even offered to drive me to the airport.

Everything went like clockwork. Timex, not Rado, but clockwork nonetheless. Because I booked late, I did not have a wide choice of seating on the plane. In the center section. Right in front of the movie screen. In the middle seat. Next to an old and blind Spanish lady. Okay, I was looking for a trip to Los Angeles, not an on-board tryst in the restroom. Even if she was blind.

Take-off was smooth and, after settling into my cramped seat, I pulled out some of my spec scripts to read. Heck, one of the reasons why I was going was to be discovered as the next Larry Gelbart. And, I'd be curious to watch folks around me, watching me read scripts. "Hmm, who is that? Maybe the next Larry Gelbart?" Of course, I knew I'd get no reaction from the senora on my left.

The beverage cart came by and I got my Diet Coke. Well, back then, it was probably a Tab. They hadn't rolled it much further up the aisle when, suddenly, the flight attendants quickly pulled the carts back. Then, we hear glasses, etc. getting shoved back into the cabinets.

Hmmmm.

A few minutes later, the captain gets on the sound system.

"Sorry, folks, we're going back to Kennedy."

Groans all around. But, no reason why. Equipment issue? Weather? The co-pilot forgot his wallet?

We hadn't been up in the air for more than 45 minutes so the return trip to JFK couldn't be long. Apparently, we were somewhere over Pennsylania. Then, a little news from the flight attendant.

"We will be evacuating via the rear doors."

Evacuating? What happened to a leisurely exit? This clearly was evolving into something more than a busted food conveyor belt.

"Okay, folks, we will be evacuating via the slides."

As in slides that can be used as rubber rafts if you're in the water. For a moment, I looked for my rosary beads. Then, I remembered I wasn't Catholic.

"Passengers, please remove your shoes."

Gulp.

"Please assume crash landing position. Put your head in your lap."

And kiss your ass goodbye? I looked over at the old Spanish fossil next to me. Shoes on, blindly and literally looking off into space. I wasn't going to do anything about taking her Buster Browns off, but I certainly could help with the crash position.

I slammed her head into her lap.

We touched down at 9:58PM. I could see the time because my eye was right on top of my wristwatch. And then, as soon as we came to a stop, one word rang out through the cabin. Over and over and over.

"Go! Go! Go! Go!"

The doors were open. The slides were ready. In one fluid movement, you jumped into a sitting position and then slid. Down and down and down. Onto a tarmac at JFK that was literally fifty feet from the water. I managed the manuever easily. Others came flying off the slide in different directions. Some landing on the concrete on their ass. Others face down on the gravel. But, there was no time to linger.

"Run! Run! Run! Run!"

Outside. On the ground. With no shoes.

When we were all a safe distance from the aircraft, I looked at the scene unfolding before me. Fire engines, ambulances, and police cars speeding to the plane. It reminded me of the last scene from "Dog Day Afternoon." Where was John Cazale with the bullethole in the middle of his forehead?

Later on, we heard the details. A bomb scare had come in for our flight. It was allegedly to go off at 10PM. They had gotten us back with very little margin for error.

The eternal evening continued. Eventually, after walking around a terminal for two hours, we were allowed back on the plane (after the requisite dog sniffing for explosives) to get our stuff. Sometime around 2AM, they boarded us on another flight. Which had only enough fuel to get us to Cleveland. We refueled there on the runaway. After the plane switch, I had scored a window seat. I looked out at the Ohio blackness. This would be the only time I ever saw Cleveland. At 330AM.

What I didn't realize, in these pre-cell phone days, was what was happening in Los Angeles. As my friend waited endlessly for me to arrive, all the folks there saw on the arrival board were the usual words that signify a disaster.

"SEE AGENT."

He did and still learned nothing except that the flight had been delayed and was now due about 7AM. He, too, got to wander around an airport terminal as well. Except, he still had shoes on.

So, my first view of Southern California was seen through a pair of droopy eyes in his rental car. We got to Huntington Beach and both of us crashed on our beds. And did not move for the next 12 hours. By the time we woke up, the all girls softball team had already left. And, because I had used some of my spending money at the JFK Terminal, we later in our trip wound up trying to tour Disneyland on just ten bucks in our pockets. I even had to wire home for some dough so I could get back to the East Coast. My father still had unwavering support.

"What the hell did you want to go there for?"

Yes, Dad, I am safe now. Thanks.

So that's the story.  The first time I slept in California was really during the daylight hours.  And the jet lag from that overnight debacle stayed with me for about three years.

To this day, I remember that this trip really never connected me to the state.  We had a rental car, but that was useless since Huntington Beach was just to the left of the moon and light years away from anything really fun to do.  

One night, we went to a local watering hole.  Or, as we called, the finest of the city's libraries and museums.  We were looking to see who and what these California girls were all about.  And, as my college roommate and I used to do whenever we went to these clubs, we stood in the corner and stared out blankly at nothing in particular.  

Meanwhile, from my vantage point, I wasn't seeing any of those California Girls that the Beach Boys were always singing about.

Huntington Beach, this was not a good start to my California life.

On subsequent trips to Los Angeles, I stayed much closer to the city.  I had lots more fun.  And got to love everything that the environs had to offer.

Scoping out Huntington Beach from an office complex parking lot the other day, I suddenly started to feel very tired all over again.   It was 10AM and I had this weird desire to take a nap.

Dinner last night:  Hunan beef and sauteed green beans at Hunan Cafe.

Classic Newsreel of the Month - November 2011

A reminder to vote this Tuesday.


Dinner last night:  Roast beef dip sandwich at BJs.

Walmart Weird-dos

Just in time for early holiday shopping.

Please direct her to the underwear aisle.

Looks like you've already had plenty.

Paging Jenny Craig.

Anybody?

A flag we are not saluting.

Going commando in a big way.

You will note that he is the fruit section.

There are alternatives to a stroller.

Road kill.

Dinner last night:  Antipasto salad.

Hacking It

I guess it's not much fun to be a banker these days, especially if you're one of the people running the joint.  You're greedy, you're rolling in the cash, and, damn you, it's all your fault that the country's economy is falling apart.

Uh-huh.

The dumbbells who are setting up camp sites all over metropolitan areas have Wall Street and the scumbag bankers in their crosshairs and, while I'm no supporter of the "added fees" we all find in our debit columns of our bank accounts, there are two sides to every argument.

Here's mine.

All my banking business is done with Chase.  I had been with Washington Mutual and you all know where that went.  I got absorbed when WaMu dried up like a bag of beef jerky.  And, to me, this provided some symmetry.  My dad had been a longtime banker with then-Chase Manhattan.  Okay, if it was good enough for my father...

I've been quite impressed by Chase.  They have a lot of protections that you can place on your account to prevent the ever-present fraud mavens in our world.  You know what I mean?  If your account goes below five bucks, you have to be contacted.  If someone walks into a bank and pretends to be your long lost aunt, you get a call.  If you burp while in line at the ATM, a bank officer phones to ask you what you had for lunch.

Admittedly, it's a little bit of Big Brother, but when it comes to my dough, I'll take as much uncomfortable surveillance as possible.

Last year, when I was in Dallas, I used my ATM card.  Since I hadn't been in that city for some time, some do-hickey in the great Chase scheme of things started to buzz.  I got a voice mail telling me that these purchases were being made and wondered whether they were being made by me.  Please call and confirm.  I did so, alerting them that Texas was frequently on my approved list of itineraries and, oh, by the way for future reference, anything below the Equator is not.

I was good to go.

So, last week, I head to Boston for a few days.  When I got home, there was an e-mail from Chase Banking On-Line.  Hmm, they've noticed that I had made some transactions in an "unusual location."  I ignored it mainly because it didn't ask for any additional action.  I wondered why Chase themselves had not called me directly.

One day later, another e-mail.  Shame on me for not answering the first one.  If I didn't confirm within 48 hours by clicking on some link, all my Boston purchases would head off to the fraud department.

Huh?

I stupidly clicked on the link.  It took me to a very official Chase-looking screen that asked for all my personal information, including social security number and favorite side vegetable.  Something was not passing the smell test.  While it all looked perfectly legit, I couldn't understand why Chase would need all my personal details again.  Weren't they on file?

Plus I went into my account on-line and discovered that, of all things, my Boston purchases had cleared in good standing.

I went back to the e-mail from Chase On-Line and reread it.  The last sentence tipped me off that this indeed had come from a hacker.  I print it verbatim.

Please Note:

If we do no receive the appropriate account verification within 48 hours, then we will assume this Chase Bank account is fraudulent and will be suspended. The purpose of this verification is to ensure that your bank account has not been fraudulently used and to combat the fraud from our community.

"If we do no receive..."

Would a major banking institution like Chase put out an e-mail that sounded like it was written by the last cab driver that drove me home from LAX?  Did this super-large company have no need for spell or grammar check on their servers?

Yeah, this was all bogus.

I called Chase customer service and reported this to their "abuse" department.  It's sad that such a division must exist in the first place.  I got the following acknowledgement from them.

Thank you for submitting a suspicious e-mail message for our evaluation. We review each message submitted to us via e-mail and will determine if further action is needed. A number of the suspicious e-mail messages customers and others receive appear to have originated from Chase. Fraudulent e-mail takes on many forms. Most commonly, the originators try to impersonate legitimate businesses in hopes of tricking innocent customers into providing confidential information such as account numbers or Social Security numbers.

Yeah, that's exactly what they did to me.  Lesson learned.  Luckily, no fuss, no muss.

But, I thought about the other suckers who were a little too quick to respond to these phony e-mails.  How much money did they lose?  Okay, in reality, how much money did the bank lose?

Yep, there might be more than just greed behind your bank's decision to add an additional fee to your checking account on a monthly basis.  In 2011, they might be doing this to simply survive.

I began to think about all the other ways these banking institutions can get screwed.  People cutting corners on their mortgages.  Folks not paying back student loans.  Shitheads looking for one loophole after another to beat the system.

We hear today about the poor and oppressed "99%."  Just so you all understand that, embedded in that number, is a growing percentage of rat bastards more than willing to rip you off.

Dinner last night:  Chicken and broccoli from PF Chang's. 

This Date in History - November 2

And a happy birthday to Stefanie Powers.  Our hearts to Hart.

1570:  A TSUNAMI IN THE NORTH SEA DEVASTATES THE COAST FROM HOLLAND TO JUTLAND, KILLING MORE 1,000 PEOPLE.

For once, the Japanese heave a sigh of relief.

1734:  PIONEER DANIEL BOONE IS BORN.

So he was almost as old as Fess Parker.

1755:  QUEEN OF FRANCE MARIE ANTOINETTE IS BORN.

Clearly a head of her time.

1769:  DON GASPAR DE PORTOLA LEADS THE FIRST DOCUMENTED EUROPEAN VISIT TO SAN FRANCISCO BAY.

Personally, I remember Rod Gaspar, the fourth outfielder for the 1969 New York Mets.

1772:  DURING THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION, SAMUEL ADAMS AND JOSEPH WARREN FORM THE FIRST COMMITTEE OF CORRESPONDENCE.

It should be no surprise who brought the beer.

1783:  IN ROCKY HILL, NEW JERSEY, US GENERAL GEORGE WASHINGTON GIVES HIS FAREWELL ADDRESS TO THE ARMY.

Byuh, byuh.

1795:  THE FRENCH DIRECTORY SUCCEEDS THE FRENCH NATION CONVENTION AS THE GOVERNMENT OF REVOLUTIONARY FRANCE.

Je ne care pas.

1865:  29TH PRESIDENT OF THE US, WARREN G. HARDING, IS BORN.

He died in office.  From either blood poisoning.  Or harding of the arteries.

1868:  NEW ZEALAND OFFICIALLY ADOPTS A STANDARD TIME TO BE OBSERVED NATIONALLY.

As if everybody else's time isn't good enough for them.

1882:  OULU, FINLAND SI DECIMATED BY THE GREAT OULU FIRE OF 1882.

Oulu strikes me as one of those words that turns up in crossword puzzles all the time.

1889:  NORTH DAKOTA AND SOUTH DAKOTA ARE ADMITTED AS THE 39TH AND 40TH US STATES.

Well, once they took one, they had to let both in.

1898:  CHEERLEADING IS STARTED AT THE UNIVERSITY OF MINNESOTA WITH JOHNNY CAMPBELL LEADING THE CROWD IN CHEERING ON THE FOOTBALL TEAM.

But who was there to catch him?

1913:  ACTOR BURT LANCASTER IS BORN.

The way he clenched his teeth, this was truly a man in need of a night guard.

1914:  RUSSIA DECLARES WAR ON THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE.

Talk about a safe fight.  Battling with furniture.

1920:  KDKA OF PITTSBURGH, PENNSYLVANIA STARTS BROADCASTING AS THE FIRST COMMERCIAL RADIO STATION.

By November 3, 1920, they were already changing the rate card.

1930:  HAILE SELASSIE IS CROWNED EMPEROR OF ETHIOPIA.

On a trip to Scotland, his wife was called Lassie Selassie.

1936:  THE CANADIAN BROADCASTING CORPORATION IS ESTABLISHED.

Screw this.  Can you believe that joke I just wrote?

1942:  ACTRESS STEFANIE POWERS IS BORN.

A horrible actress, but she actually looked like Jessica Tandy playing alongside Robert Wagner.

1947:  IN CALIFORNIA, DESIGNER HOWARD HUGHES PERFORMS THE MAIDEN AND ONLY FLIGHT OF THE SPRUCE GOOSE, THE LARGEST FIXED-WING AIRCRAFT EVER BUILT.

And this day also marks the last time he ever shaved.

1950:  PLAYWRIGHT GEORGE BERNARD SHAW DIES.

They moved his bloomin' ass.

1959:  TWENTY ONE GAME SHOW CONTESTANT CHARLES VAN DOREN ADMITS TO CONGRESS THAT HE HAD BEEN GIVEN QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS IN ADVANCE.

If he had been on Jeopardy, they would have given him answers and questions in advance.

1961:  HUMORIST JAMES THURBER DIES.

My world and goodbye to it.

1963:  SOUTH VIETNAMESE PRESIDENT NGO DINH DIEM IS ASSASSINATED.

That's a no go, Ngo.

1966:  THE CUBAN ADJUSTMENT ACT COMES INTO FORCE, ALLOWING 123,000 CUBANS THE OPPORTUNITY TO APPLY FOR PERMANENT RESIDENCE IN THE UNITED STATES.

They should have stopped with Desi Arnaz.

1967:  US PRESIDENT LYNDON B. JOHNSON CONCLUDES THAT THE AMERICAN PEOPLE SHOULD BE GIVEN MORE OPTIMISTIC REPORTS ON THE VIETNAM WAR.

Which is why war footage started to show up on Disney's "Wonderful World of Color."

1983:  US PRESIDENT RONALD REAGAN SIGNS A BILL CREATING MARTIN LUTHER KING JR. DAY.

Oddly enough, this holiday coincides with a lot of department store "white sales."

1991:  PRODUCER IRWIN ALLEN DIES.

He made some wonderful disaster movies, but I still won't forgive him for letting Jennifer Jones fall out of the elevator in "The Towering Inferno."

1992:  PRODUCER HAL ROACH DIES.

At the age of 100.  He created the Little Rascals.  For this, he should get the Nobel Peace Prize.

2007:  LADY WRESTLER THE FABULOUS MOOLAH DIES.


From natural causes.  As opposed to a folding chair across the head.

Dinner last night:  Ziti and meatballs.

A Story You Might Not See on the Nightly News

You've all seen those screwballs camping out in city parks all across the country.  Occupying a City as they try to Occupy their Busy Days.  The media has tried to depict them as your middle-of-the-road standard protesters.  Very akin to the quiet and peaceful sit-ins of days gone by.  With dirty feet and sitting on the grass while singing along with Peter, Paul, and Mary to "Puff the Magic Dragon."

Yeah, we should be so lucky.  For the most part, these 2011 "occupants" are total jerks.  And they're about as evil as the Wall Street millionaires they are allegedly trying to shout down.  After all, legitimately homeless people have gravitated to these pup tent towns and tried to share in the "community."  Except the "occupants" don't want to share their food and their hospitality with these slobs.

Uh huh.  I get it.  Sharing the wealth doesn't necessarily extend to the peanut butter and jelly sandwich you're shoving through your pie hole at the moment.

Two-faced and phony.  Those are the true elements that are cutting through the Occupy territory in your town.

And then there's Patricia McAllister.  You won't see this bitch spotlighted by frauds like Anderson Cooper and that horse faced Christine Amanpour.  But, this piece of garbage was one of the sleaze buckets hanging around Occupy LA.  And she couldn't resist a video camera in her face.


Okay, let's think about all the ways Patricia McAllister is stupid. She gets on camera. She immediately gives her name. And even adds for embellishment where she works.

The IQ here has to be below freezing.

And, oh, yeah, we can't ignore the fact that this jerk made probably one of the most offensive, anti-Semitic statements ever recorded on camera.

You parents in Los Angeles, she was working in your school system.

Well, this went viral on YouTube and friends started calling Miss Patty about her big moment on screen.  And guess what so did her employers at LA USD.  They did the right thing.  They kicked her fat ass to the curb.

Now you would think Patricia McAllister would learn her lesson and realize the consequence of her regretable slip of the tongue.

Er, no.  She was right back out there and ready to flap her gums some more.


This is amazing to me. There's not an ounce of dignity or class or humility in her body. She keeps on with her "hate all the Jews" message. They are the ones who need to be run out of the country.

If this bag of dung really wants to suggest how our country and its flagging economy can be fixed, she might want to consider more than those nasty Jews on Wall Street.  There are plenty of crooks and thieves elsewhere.  They are White.  They are all colors.  They are Christians.  They might be Muslims.  They could be Agnostics.  They are all around us.  In elected positions in your town and mine. 

And she might want to consider her own "brothers and sisters."  Folks who have been bilking the system and milking governmental entitlements for the last forty years.  One of those frauds might actually be in the McAllister family. 

Once again, this is just one example of what you don't hear on CNN or ABC or NBC. 

A true and balanced view of our nation's woes.

Shipping the Zionist Jews out of America as a cure-all?  I'd rather start smaller and be a bit more productive. 

Let's ship Patricia McAllister out of here first.  A baby step, but a necessary one nonetheless.

Dinner last night:  Rotisserie chicken from California Chicken Cafe.