This is Ohio State Senator Ed Kearney and he's an idiot. Well, I suppose that calling some politician a moron is redundant. But, Kearney's our special nominee for this month and here's why.
Probably bored and dying to get his name in the press during a quiet summer, Kearney has gone on the attack.
Kearney, a Democrat from Cincinnati, introduced a resolution
Wednesday that would encourage the Cleveland Indians baseball team to adopt a new name and
mascot, citing racial insensitivity. He also sent a letter to Indians
owner Lawrence Dolan urging a change.
Yep, one more time, it's bye bye to....
Here we fucking go again.
It's happening before with the Indians. American Indians or Native Americans or whatever Heep Big Chief wants to be called now have protested. This is offensive to them. Okay, but it's history. The Encore Western channel tells me so. And, besides, are you not over that? Or are you too busy working in those tax shelters called casinos where the black jack dealer delights in scalping the wallet of the white man?
We've heard the same hue and cry over the Washington Redskins and the Atlanta Braves. Again, it's American history, folks. And aren't these storied sports franchises with a great and illustrious past as well? Okay, if they want to shoot anybody who continues to do that deplorable Tomahawk Chop, I won't argue. But....
You can always count on moronic politicians like Ed Kearney to go on the warpath with their super-duper insensitivity. Because, in 2014, you can't say anything to anybody without fear of being sued. Or chastised by your local congressman or dog catcher.
Hey, if we need to worry about each and every one's feelings, let's really tackle some of these team names.
Okay, Indians, Redskins, Braves. Gone.
The New York Yankees? Offensive to anybody's whose great grandfather fought and died for the South in the Civil War. Bye.
The New York or San Francisco Giants? Offensive to anybody with a glandular disorder or thyroid condition. Out.
The San Diego Padres? Protestants wonder why we must promote the Catholic Church. See ya.
The Miami Marlins? Consider those folks allergic to seafood. Toodles.
Think I'm being silly? I've just gotten started.
The New York Jets? Offensive to planes with just two propellers.
The Milwaukee Brewers? Why are we promoting beer to teenage fans?
The Houston Astros? Offensive to dumb people with hearing issues who taught you said "asshole."
I could go on and won't.
This is a ridiculous issue championed by a two-bit politician with too much time on his hands. I mean, here's a guy who's probably offended when he hears somebody say they don't like the black pieces in a box of Good N'Plenty.
As if there aren't enough issues confronting America.
Illegal immigration.
The affordable health care debacle.
The Middle East and Middle America on fire.
The economy which, despite what the mainstream media tells you, has never really recovered.
Ed Kearney, spend some of our tax dollars and your hours on something that is truly important to every American. Regardless of color and nationality and heritage and religion.
But, if you must, I would like to stick up for the donkey AKA jackass.
Long considered the symbol of the Democratic Party, I am personally offended. Why should this poor, defenseless animal be associated with such a group of idiots and dumbbells? Especially when there are just as many asses on the Republican side as well?
Dinner last night: Leftover grilled ham and salad.
Summer winding down.
Dinner last night: Grilled hamsteak.
And it was my fault. Sort of.
This is one of my dad's Technicolor photographs. He was probably trying his new Argus Camera out on my grandmother's roses. This was part of the garden near our back steps. Oh, wait, our back "stoop." Notice how the bricks of the stairs blends in with the bricks of the house.
Except the house wasn't made of brick. It was this type of shingle that made it look brick but it really wasn't.
It was one of the reasons why my father and mother questioned whether my grandparents should have bought the house on South Fifteenth Avenue of Mount Vernon, New York at all. Besides its location adjacent to a major thoroughfare and proximity to a bunch of apartment buildings, I have been told that my folks thought the house needed major repairs. While my parents weren't buying the house itself, they would be renting out the second floor and I suppose they felt they had a say in it all.
As a little kid, I learned myself about all the warts.
The back door always got stuck.
Some of the smaller windows didn't open.
There was a part of the bannister going upstairs that always came loose.
Little things would break here and there. I always made sure that I wasn't around for the inevitable "what did you do now." I, of course, had my answer always well rehearsed.
"I didn't do it. It was like that already."
The phony brick façade was just one more thing wrong with our house. But my grandparents had bought it dirt cheap. And so was the rent my folks were paying.
Of course, the crumbling brick shingles did get an assist from me as they hit the ground.
I used to love and mimic baseball games in my backyard. My "catcher" was the brick stoop. It made for a great strike zone. Except when I missed the stoop and would hit the side of the house. Part of the old shingle would crack and fall off. Invariably, my grandmother would be in the kitchen nearby.
"What are you doing?"
Nothing.
Of course, nothing could be easily found lying at the base of the house. Little pieces of brick shingles lying on the ground. I'd quickly clean them up and deposit in the garbage can. Of course, with my luck, Grandma would then come out with a bag of her own trash.
"What's this in here?"
Um, nothing.
This scene would be repeated over and over for about three summers. Meanwhile, thanks to me and just general wear and tear, the shingles that adorned our house were slowly coming off. It was the mirror reverse of the Picture of Dorian Gray. Our house was starting to look uglier and uglier every single day.
But, then, my grandfather died. The very next summer, as if she needed to consume herself with something or anything else, Grandma made a bold decision.
"I want to put aluminum siding on the house."
Huh? I thought that. My father actually said it.
Apparently, unbeknownst to all of us, Grandma had answered the front door to a salesman selling the stuff. Of course, this is never a good idea, especially if you're a senior citizen. But, God bless my grandmother, she was a house afire when she got a bug in her head. Once she wanted something done, she would not rest until it happened.
I think my dad then checked out the aluminum siding guy and he passed the sniff test. Grandma's reasoning was that she wanted to do something to make the house look nicer. And, oh, she had the money. After all, the siding would help keep the house cooler in the summer and warmer in the winter. My mom got a nasty chuckle out of the latter.
"She never puts the heat on in the winter anyway."
Okay, starting as soon as my school was out in June, our house was descended upon by a phalanx of workers who would be there the better part of the summer. Scaffolding was set up all over and you could barely see the house underneath it all. There seemed to be about a dozen craftsmen but, in reality, just two or three of them. I noticed one starting to scrape the crummy brick shingles off. I offered to help. I was an expert.
I am guessing that, in 2014, a house being redone with aluminum siding is probably a two day project. But, back then, everybody was Eldin from "Murphy Brown." Working with precision, but at a snail's pace. There were few hiccups in the long process, except for the day when Grandma complained that a worker was on the scaffold outside her bathroom window when she was in the tub. Um, the window is frosted glass. He can't see a thing.
"Oh, you never mind. He was looking."
When they were done, the removal of the scaffolding took almost as long. Of course, with the house done, it looked brand new. Inside, the bannister still was loose. The windows still stuck. But, in its two-toned aluminum siding of green and white, Grandma was now so proud of her house.
The stuff they used must have been top notch. Almost five decades later, it still looks the same.
That's because I didn't get a chance to do any damage. On the very first day I tried to resume my backyard baseball game, there was a stern voice from Grandma's kitchen.
"Don't put any dents in my house."
Dinner last night: Channeling my grandmother's hot weather summer supper - sandwich with German cold cuts, cold salads, and pickles.
I've been watching this show again for the umpteenth time. A truly NY sitcom. And notice the rare sponsor mention.
Dinner last night: Sausage and peppers sandwich at the Dodger game.
Amidst all the shock and sadness of this week, there's this. Another validation of how goofy...and sad...a society we have become.
In 2014, the outpouring of grief whenever a celebrity dies is now a viral event. Back when John F. Kennedy was killed in 1963, I am guessing that, unless you were tuned to radio or television, you might have heard the devastating news by having a friend call you.
On the telephone. Or even knock on your front door. Did you hear?
Not today. It unfolds completely on Facebook or Twitter. I watched it happen and, believe me, most of what I encountered was genuine. People were really moved by his untimely passing. Hey, I was a fan, too. There were photos posted from Mrs. Doubtfire or Mork and Mindy or Aladdin.
Also, there were lots of posts on depression and mental illness. Okay, good. But suddenly every one is an expert on a very, very complicated issue. Um, not so good. Now we're hearing that he might have been in the early stages of Parkinson's Disease so I guess we'll be seeing lots of "experts" on this.
Then, we encounter folks who are totally consumed by the intruding press coverage of Williams' suicide. Okay, there's a lot of truth here. I mean, look at this annoying dichotomy from the ABC News website.
Suddenly, people are super concerned about Robin's family. Okay, but did you even know anything about them? Did you know how many times he was married? Answer: three. Do you even know how many kids he has without looking at Wikipedia? Answer: three. I looked it up on Wikipedia myself. But, reading the reactions on-line, you would think that most people were actual friends of the family. Are you going to the memorial service? Are you invited back to the house after the cemetery? Can you bring a nice crumb cake? The answer to all three: probably not.
And, then there's this. I see in two different places on Facebook an on-line petition calling for the firing of Fox News reporter Shepherd Smith because he allegedly made insensitive remarks about Williams and supposedly said that his suicide made him "a coward."
I clicked on the posts and discovered that there was a virtual petition available and the goal was 250,000 signatures. There was a meter off to the side counting the number of names. So, there's actually a software out there designed to do this? I suddenly wonder a little bit more about America.
I researched Smith's remarks and listened to the whole segment. Yes, Smith suggested that suicide is a form of cowardice. But, in context, he also ticked off a very detailed list of all the possible reasons why Robin took his own life. I thought about all the people who had already signed to clamor for Smith's ouster and whether any of them had even heard the whole tape themselves. Doubtful.
Of course, contemplating these off-the-cuff remarks, I think about those TV journalists who automatically called Donald Sterling a "racist" or Donald Trump "a loony tune" or anybody they don't necessarily agree with it "a nut case."
Indeed, the reporters may be right. Or they may be wrong. And they're all entitled to their opinions. And that doesn't necessarily mean that anybody needs to be fired for it. And we certainly don't need petitions.
This is America slipping a little further down the rabbit hole. Intolerance. And a need to make somebody or anybody, even in the depth of despair over Robin Williams' unfortunate passing, a villain.
Think about everything we deal with in the media. How much of our "entertainment" dwells on somebody's failure and punishment?
Who's getting voted off?
Who's going home?
Who's being fired?
Who's going to die in the season finale?
Isn't this exhausting for you? It is for me.
Can't we leave anybody alone for just five minutes without trying to capitalize on somebody's failure or demise or that opinion you don't agree with?
Do what I do. Turn the freakin' channel.
I don't like Bill Maher at all. I hate his views on religion. I think they are incredibly insensitive and offensive. Moreover, his political views are phony. I know for a fact that he will espouse any side of the aisle depending upon whether he can get employment out of it. But do I start a petition to get him thrown off HBO? Nah.
I just don't watch his show.
There are politicians, both Democrats and Republicans, that I can't stand. I think they're all crooks. My views are different from probably 99% of my friends. It is my opinion and, other than sometimes mentioning this in a blog, I keep it to myself. I make it a practice not to discuss politics with my pals. And don't necessarily force it down the throats of people on social media.
I have first hand information that Denzel Washington is not a nice guy. I won't get into specifics to protect my confidential sources, but I've know this for a long time. It's totally contrary to how he is portrayed in the media. I have zero respect for him as a human being and that comes from me who lived very close to his family in Mount Vernon, New York. Do I picket his movies at the Arclight Cinema? Nah.
I simply don't go to them.
You don't like it? Leave it. Or get yourself a blog and go to town.
So, one more thing that I learned from all this Robin Williams news of the week? I have a little bit less respect for our society. And I worry again about the long term future of a country that was originally built on the basic premise of simple freedom.
Right now, lots of folks are consumed by this ALS Ice Bucket Challenge. Okay, a good cause but, like all things in America, it's getting completely overplayed and ridiculous. I'm hoping, though, that the icy showers work to wake some people up. If we continue down this crazy path, there will be a day maybe 10 or 20 years down the road when we have leaders who are dictators or despots and we will all wonder how they got there.
But, until that unseemly moment occurs...
Robin, one of the things I will miss is the laughs. Because, as this country continues to unravel, we're going to need them more than we know.
Dinner last night: Leftover bratwurst and German potato salad.
I might as well. Everybody else is doing it. But with a slightly different angle.
I was sitting in a business office when a colleague was looking at her computer and exclaimed, "Oh, my God, Robin Williams died."
It was one of those breaking news alerts that literally took my breath away. People often misuse the concept of being shocked, but this truly was one. It was the same as when Michael Jackson died. Whether you were a fan or not, you were immediately and totally consumed. The total concept of being "taken aback."
It reminded me of the time that I actually saw and had a brief moment with Robin Williams. No, it wasn't in a comedy club or a theater. I was simply walking through the Century City shopping mall around the corner from my home. I turned the corner by Bloomingdale's and found myself face-to-face with Mork himself. He was simply doing what I was doing. He was carrying a shopping bag.
The suddenness of our encounter must have registered on my face. He smiled at me and said "hello." I did the same.
And that was it.
I will admit that there are two moments in Robin Williams' career that I will always remember. The first came during those initial episodes of "Mork and Mindy" where you saw a sitcom in a way you never had before. It seemed as if it was being made up right before our eyes. Totally spontaneous and yet there were still writers' name credited. Truth be told, the novelty of his almost mystical work on that show died off fairly quickly. But, those very first shows were magical and memorable.
I also am thinking about the penultimate episode of Johnny Carson's Tonight Show. We were all dealing with a grief of another kind during that time. I was relishing every last moment with Johnny behind that desk. Robin Williams and Bette Midler were the guests that evening and really the last performers ever to appear on the Carson show. Their antics that night made us laugh heartily and helped us get through the difficult TV passage.
Oh, sure, I saw a bunch of his other appearances and most of his movies. He was one of those rare birds that managed to shuttle comfortably between comedy and drama, a task that is not as easy as it sounds. You just knew that somebody with that much talent and quickness and creativity had to be multi-layered, both good and bad. It was no surprise to me whenever I heard that those inner demons had come to the forefront one more time.
Of course, on the day that Robin Williams' suicide was announced, the mainstream media and news outlets naturally went crazy. Wall-to-wall coverage. CNN, of course, jumped on the bandwagon as they endeavor to find the next Malaysian Airline story. Inexplicably, that dummy Wolf Blitzer went on the air and, talking about Robin, said that "America must find a way to deal with this loss." Huh? Yes, it was tragic. But it also wasn't November 22, 1963. But, then again, this is America in 2014 where the very worst thing to happen ever just occurred five minutes ago.
I was bombarded with tweets and comments from celebrities or...in reality...their publicists. Whether they knew Robin or not, everybody had something to say. No place on Earth does death better than Hollywood. Of course, each and every quote started with "Robin was the nicest guy I have ever worked with." It was almost unanimous. Given the dark periods he endured, I really would have appreciated the Hollywood celebrity who commented that they had worked with Robin during one of his cocaine binges and he was a real shithead. You know those folks are out there. Because somebody with his plethora of problems could not have been easy going and free wheeling 24/7.
But that is the phoniness of the world that Robin Williams lived and worked in. He knew he was tormented. He tried to get help on multiple occasions. I hope he was not alone in knowing that he needed assistance to get through the days.
And that's my biggest takeaway from this week. Those folks like Robin who can't get help or don't even see the warning signs of depression and mental illness.
I read a statistic this week that the number of suicides in America has dramatically increased over the last decade. Now here's a news item that did not surprise me. And I think there's two main reasons why it's happened.
Our worlds are frenzied. Our attention is divided by a myriad of portals and diversions from e-mails to Facebook to DVRs to you name it. We all retreat into our cocoons and personal connections with other people have become...well...secondary. If somebody in our world is in pain or needs a shoulder to lean on, we're missing it. You. Me. All of us.
I'm thinking also about our doctors and their propensity to access the prescription pad to cure all ills. Take this. Take that. All chemicals that, in turn, may or may not help us. Our blood is loaded with different kinds of elements that may or may not mix well with each other. Our plasma is like snowflakes. No two are alike. And a drug that helps one person may not inter-connect with the medications taken by another.
It brings me back to the days when my mother was first retired. I've never really told this story to many, although it might show up in a Sunday Memory Drawer at some point. She had a tough time dealing with this and also was coping with the onset of arthritis. She knew enough to recognize she had a trouble so she sought the help of her doctor.
Said physician prescribed her a sleeping pill and an anti-depressant. Oh, and for a chaser, Mom was to take a painkiller. The mix for my mother almost became lethal. On a daily phone call to her, I heard the words that were chilling to me.
"I feel like I want to kill myself."
This was not said in jest. It was not her reaction to the Mets losing the night before. And I could tell the difference. I immediately made some calls and the right ones. I got her some quick and copious help.
So what does this have to do with Robin Williams?
Well, as you mourn him, you might be moved to watch an old episode of his TV show or perhaps the DVD of "Aladdin." There are others who are wringing their hands and lambasting the treatment of this news story by pundits, reporters, and the like.
I say that you use your time more wisely. If you have a friend that you know is struggling, make a call. Pay a visit. Let them know you're around.
That's exactly what Robin Williams would want you to do. There is no better tribute in the world.
Dinner last night: Grilled bratwurst, German potato salad, and salad.
Happy birthday to Pat Harrington Jr.. A fellow Fordham graduate.
3114 BC: THE MESOAMERICAN LONG COUNT CALENDAR, USED BY THE MAYANS, BEGINS.
That's a long, long, long time ago.
523: JOHN I BECOMES THE NEW POPE AFTER THE DEATH OF POPE HORMISDAS.
Pope Horm, for short.
554: EMPEROR JUSTINIAN I REWARDS LIBERIUS FOR HIS LONG AND DISTINGUISHED SERVICE IN THE PRAGMATIC SANCTION, GRANTING HIM EXTENSIVE ESTATES IN ITALY.
So we'll be seeing him flip those estates on HGTV?
582: MAURICE BECOMES EMPEROR OF THE EASTERN ROMAN EMPIRE.
Maurice? Is that the guy in the Pompatus of Love?
1099: POPE PASCHAL II SUCCEEDS POPE URBAN II AS THE 160TH POPE.
Urban was the first Pope named after a radio format.
1532: THE DUCHY OF BRITTANY IS ABSORBED INTO THE KINGDOM OF FRANCE.
France is apparently super absorbent.
1624: THE FRENCH KING LOUIS XIII APPOINTS CARDINAL RICHILIEU AS PRIME MINISTER.
I guess Cardinal Stan Musial wasn't available.
1792: THE CONVENTION OF LONDON, A TREATY BETWEEN THE UNITED KINGDOM AND THE UNITED PROVINCES, IS SIGNED IN LONDON.
Where else would you sign the Convention of London?
1831: NAT TURNER SEES A SOLAR ECLIPSE, WHICH HE BELIEVES IS A SIGN FROM GOD. EIGHT DAYS LATER, HE AND 70 OTHER SLAVES KILL 55 WHITES IN VIRGINIA.
I don't see God said exactly that.
1860: TARGET SHOOTER ANNIE OAKLEY IS BORN.
Because Father Oakley was an even sharper shooter.
1895: ACTOR BERT LAHR IS BORN.
I am the King of the Forest.
1899: DIRECTOR ALFRED HITCHCOCK IS BORN.
Good evening.
1906: THE ALL BLACK INFANTRYMEN OF THE US ARMY'S 25TH INFANTRY REGIMENT ARE ACCUSED OF KILLING A WHITE BARTENDER.
Another sign from God?
1918: WOMEN ENLIST IN THE US MARINE CORPS FOR THE FIRST TIME.
Shazam, Sarge. I just saw me a lady in the shower.
1918: BMW IS ESTABLISHED AS A PUBLIC COMPANY IN GERMANY.
Beemer.
1926: CUBAN LEADER FIDEL CASTRO IS BORN.
It would be cliché if they handed out cigars.
1929: ACTOR PAT HARRINGTON JR. IS BORN.
I introduced myself to him once at a Fordham Alumni party but it was only to see if he had Valerie Bertinelli's number.
1930: MUSICIAN DON HO IS BORN.
Tiny bubbles.
1942: WALT DISNEY'S "BAMBI" PREMIERES.
Watch out for forest fires.
1946: AUTHOR HG WELLS DIES.
Now he's really invisible.
1961: EAST GERMANY CLOSES THE BORDER BETWEEN THE EASTERN AND WESTERN SECTORS OF BERLIN.
This is the wall that Gorbachev later tore down.
1964: PETER ALLEN AND GWYNNE EVANS ARE HANGED FOR THE MURDER OF JOHN ALAN WEST BECOMING THE LAST PEOPLE EXECUTED IN THE UNITED KINGDOM.
Not the Peter Allen who was "married" to Liza Minnelli.
1969: THE APOLLO 11 ASTRONAUTS ARE RELEASED FROM A THREE-WEEK QUARANTINE TO ENJOY A TICKER TAPE PARADE IN NEW YORK.
Hello? Three weeks in quarantine? Do you know the germs you can find on today's regular jetliner?
1995: BASEBALL STAR MICKEY MANTLE DIES.
So, I assume the 60 day disabled list?
2004: HURRICANE CHARLEY STRIKES FLORIDA.
As if hurricanes are a new invention.
2004: CHEF JULIA CHILD DIES.
Béchamel that.
2007: BASEBALL STAR PHIL RIZZUTO DIES.
Holy Cow.
2010: AUTHOR EDWIN NEWMAN DIES.
Or kicks the bucket. Relatively speaking.
2012: AUTHOR HELEN GURLEY BROWN DIES.
Magazine subscription expired.
Dinner last night: Chinese chicken salad.
