Classic TV Theme of the Month - August 2020

Remember made-for-TV movies?   I bet you didn't know this theme song was written by none other than Burt Bacharach.

Dinner last night: Garlic shrimp and pasta.

Your Weekend Movie Guide for August 2020

And "until further notice" must mean six months because that's what it has been since any of us have set foot in a movie theater.   If they ever open, let's hope the seats get a good dusting first.

So, without new movies, I can't do my monthly movie guide.   Or can I?   Let's see what I had to say when I did the August 2007 Movie Guide...the very first year of this blog.   How many of these flickers do you even remember?

Stardust: some magical thing with Clare Danes and Michelle Pfeiffer. The only critic mentioned in the ad is Gene Shalit. Is he still alive? Looks weird.

Rush Hour 3: about as necessary as power steering on a turtle. Has anybody ever seen this annoying Chris Tucker do anything else? Jackie Chan provides the Kung and Tucker does the FU. I'd have to be a hostage of the Taliban to see this movie.

The Simpsons Movie: even though this is proably nothing more than 3 episodes strung together, it is definitely on my list. The writing is always smart and funny. Anything that regularly lampoons Teddy Kennedy is aces with me.

Two Days in Paris: looks like two hours in Hell.

The Bourne Ultimatum: I actually saw this last week. A friend was visiting from Dallas and he had never seen the Cinerama Dome. I saw the first two movies and regarded them pretty much as cinematic frozen pizza. I couldn't remember a single thing I saw ten minutes after the credits stopped rolling. The third, however, is quite enjoyable and does tie up the three films nicely.

Daddy Day Camp: that hilarious mugger, Cuba Gooding, is at it again. No f-ing way for me. Side note---it was directed by the Wonder Years' Fred Savage. Meanwhile, his co-star from the show, Danica McKellar, is busy writing a middle school math book for girls. The only reason I know this is because the book is dedicated to a good friend of mine, who was her math teacher in the 7th grade.

Talk to Me: Don Cheadle's annual Oscar campaign.

Underdog: Paging Wally Cox.

Becoming Jane: another Jane Austen rehash. Only if your Rite Aid is completely out of Ambien.

Hairspray: I did the do and it was a bad hair day for me. Overrated.

Bratz: I have no idea what these are. Could be either teenage girls, sausage, or a brand of beer.

El Cantante: J-Lo and Marc Anthony show their home videos. Should be retitled "Who's Afraid of Immigration?"

Rocket Science: described as a cross between Rocky and Napoleon Dynamite. Actually, I would prefer it if it was a right cross from Rocky that landed on Napoleon Dynamite.

My Best Friend: some French comedy about the bonds of friendship. I saw it. If the theater is air conditioned, it's okay.

Skin Walkers: I don't recognize a single name in the ad. And it's playing at a lot of theaters in South Central LA. Do the math.

I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry: I have been told by some gay friends that this movie is incredibly offensive. The fact that it is an Adam Sandler comedy is enough for me.

No Reservations: that chick flick about a romance between two chefs. The type of movie that I can recite most of the dialogue while waiting on line for a ticket.

Ratatouille: I highly recommend it. Makes you realize why it is so important to regularly take out the garbage.

Transformers: a friend of mine saw it and he had to have it explained to him by his four year-old nephew.

Harry Potter Blah Blah Blah: I am very proud that I have not been sucked into this cult.

Arctic Tale: March of the Penguins with Polar Bears. The trailer says it is told by "storyteller" Queen Latifah. Who died and made her Rapunzel?

Dinner last night:  Italian muffaletta sandwich.

Moron of the Month - August 2020

At last!

I finally have the nerve to spotlight him on this monthly salute to stupidity.  But, in reality, he is not a moron.  Oh, no.  He is a genius.   He is cunning.  He is sly.   He is devious.   

Indeed, I might want to change this monthly post to "Villain of the Month."  Because, a century from now when historians will reflect on the destruction of the United States and can look past his skin color, Barack Obama will be Exhibit A on why the country took its last breath.   I mean, just listen how he turned that John Lewis funeral eulogy into a rabble rousing speech from the Adolf Hitler playbook.  Totally inappropriate, but totally Barack Obama.

I've always thought this, but I had a recent epiphany where I blurted out my feelings in a rare political discussion with a friend.   

Back in 2008, if Barack Obama doesn't play the race card and steal the Democratic nomination from Hillary Clinton, America would not be the shambles that is 2020.  No, I'm not saying Hillary would have been a great President.  She likely would have been a mess.   Heck, she might not even have won the election.   

But think about it.  The marketing and race campaign waged by the dirty and underhanded Barry was the pivot point in beginning America on its slippery slope downward.   

What, you say?  Obama played the race card?  Seriously?

Seriously.

Read the definitive book on that 2008 election called "Game Change."   It's reputable as it was written by a couple of Time Magazine journalists. 

Yes, I mean the book that the assholes at HBO turned into a movie.   But they only concentrated on the Sarah Palin story which was just about 25 percent of the pages.   There's a whole section about Obama secretly dropping hints of racism against Bill and Hillary.  Of course, nobody wanted you to see that dramatized.

So if Barry is unsuccessful, maybe Hillary wins or has a one term Presidency or goes the distance.  But if Barry doesn't get his way, we ultimately don't have him stirring the pot when that Harvard professor is arrested.   We probably don't have the hysteria of Ferguson or Travyon Martin.   We don't have the invention of systemic racism.   

Overall, we have a much better life if Obama is not in power to do the only thing he is good at.  Community agitation.   

To this day for me, it's still a mystery where he came from.  He had a brief and lackluster Senate career.   And then he ran for President.   Like overnight.

In this age of social media, where was all the vetting of this guy?   Oh, I don't mean the birth certificate controversy.   That was a dead issue from the get go. But, in 2020, when everybody comes out of the bushes to tarnish reputations, there was nobody...and I mean nobody from Obama's past.   No college roommate.   No childhood friends.   No old professors or teachers.   No previous girlfriends.   It's like America got him out of the box completely assembled.  

Meanwhile, I have always had concerns that this guy had some major psych issues.   I mean, how could he not?   His mother was a bit of a lowlife tramp. His father effectively deserted him.   He is raised by a white grandmother.  Some of that has to frame your viewpoint of the world just a little.

Going back to where I started this blog entry, think about how life would have changed if we had no Obama in 2008.  If Hillary won, she might have been forced to the middle like her hubby was.   Or maybe she makes so much of a mess that a reasonable Republican would have won in 2012.

Most pointedly, if Obama had not pulled those race cards in 2008, we likely would not have turned to Trump in 2016.   So, in reality, if you think America is dying right now from a bullet wound to the stomach, it was Barack Obama who pulled the trigger.  And there are a lot of voters who fell for this.  Nice work, gang.  It truly resulted in a pivotal and negative point in our country's history much akin to the murder of the Kennedy brothers.

Yep, Obama's no moron.  Because, as only the elitist that he is could do, he's one of the few people living a carefree life in 2020.  His Netflix deal that he and his many-wigged wife signed has scored them millions of dollars.   Of course, if the virtually-brain-dead Joe Biden wins the Presidency in November, Barack might come in from the golf course from time to time and help pull the strings on that Charlie McCarthy in the Oval Office.   And we will continue to swirl down the porcelain drain.

Maybe I should retitle this month's post as "Flush of the Month."

Dinner last night:  Bacon salad.

This Date in History - August 12

Happy birthday, George Hamilton.   A reminder to all about SPF 45.

30 BC:  CLEOPATRA, THE LAST RULER OF THE EGYPTIAN PTOLEMAIC DYNASTY, COMMITS SUICIDE, ALLEGEDLY BY AN ASP BITE.

With Liz Taylor in the screen role, they could have sung the ditty from "A Chorus Line."  "Tits and Asp."

1121:  THE GEORGIAN ARMY UNDER KING DAVID IV WINS A DECISIVE VICTORY OVER THE FAMOUS SELJUK COMMANDER ILGHAZI.

Was Il later married to Ben?  I'll wait.

1480:  OTTOMAN TROOPS BEHEAD 800 CHRISTIANS FROM REFUSING TO CONVERT TO ISLAM.

Oh, just like in 2015.

1624:  THE PRESIDENT OF LOUIS XIII OF FRANCE'S ROYAL COUNCIL IS ARRESTED, LEAVING CARDINAL RICHELIEU IN THE ROLE OF THE KING'S PRINCIPAL MINISTER.  

Oh, no.  Not him.  Realistically, I had nothing else to write for this.

1676:  PRAYING INDIAN JOHN ALDERMAN SHOOTS AND KILLS METACOMET, THE WAMPANOAG WAR CHIEF.

Maybe there was another war chief named Ajax.   Again, I'll wait.

1687:  CHARLES OF LORRAINE DEFEATS THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE.

And later opened up his own hair salon.

1851:  ISAAC SINGER IS GRANTED A PATENT FOR HIS SEWING MACHINE.

I need the pants by Monday.

1881:  PRODUCER CECIL B. DEMILLE IS BORN.

The greatest schmo on earth.

1883:  ACTRESS MARION LORNE IS BORN.

Aunt Clara on Bewitcher.

1883:  THE LAST QUAAGA DIES AT A NETHERLANDS ZOO.

Rendering the next-to-last quaaga a bitter footnote.

1898:  THE HAWAIIAN FLAG IS LOWERED FROM A PALACE AND REPLACED WITH THE US FLAG TO SIGNIFY THE TRANSFER OF SOVEREIGNTY FROM THE REPUBLIC OF HAWAII TO THE US.

Aloha.

1910:  ACTRESS JANE WYATT IS BORN.

Father knew best.  Mother was better looking.

1911:  ACTOR CANTINFLAS IS BORN.

He was this big deal in Mexico.

1914:  DURING WORLD WAR I, THE UNITED KINGDOM DECLARES WAR ON AUSTRIA AND HUNGARY.

No goulash for the duration.

1929:  SINGER BUCK OWENS IS BORN.

Buckaroos.

1930:  MATHEMATICIAN JACQUES TITS IS BORN.

Included only because, for the first time ever in this blog, I have used the words Tits twice in one entry.

1939:  "ACTOR" GEORGE HAMILTON IS BORN.

Note the quotation marks.

1944:  SS TROOPS MASSACRE 560 PEOPLE IN SANT'ANNA DI STAZZEMA.

As if this was news.

1944:  NAZI TROOPS END THE WEEK-LONG WOLA MASSACRES, WHICH TOTALLY ABOUT 40,000 PEOPLE KILLED.

More murders.  Talk about one-trick-ponies.

1950:  DURING THE KOREAN WAR, AMERICAN POWS ARE MASSACRED BY THE NORTH KOREAN ARMY.

Today, they just hack our computers.

1952:  THE NIGHT OF THE MURDERED POETS - THIRTEEN PROMINENT JEWISH INTELLECTUALS ARE KILLED IN MOSCOW.

For all those who thought this stopped in 1945.

1958:  ART KANE PHOTOGRAPHS 57 NOTABLE JAZZ MUSICIANS IN THE BLACK AND WHITE GROUP PORTRAIT "A GREAT DAY IN HARLEM."

Coffee table book to follow.

1964:  SOUTH AFRICA IS BANNED FROM THE OLYMPIC GAMES DUE TO THE COUNTRY'S RACIST POLICIES.

Duh.

1964:  CHARLIE WILSON, ONE OF THE GREAT TRAIN ROBBERS, ESCAPES FROM PRISON IN ENGLAND.

Since that happened in 1963, that didn't take him long.

1964:  AUTHOR IAN FLEMING DIES.

James Bond Will Not Return.

1981:  THE IBM PERSONAL COMPUTER IS RELEASED.

Whatever happened to IBM?

1982: ACTOR HENRY FONDA DIES.

Now what's all this crud about no movie tonight?

1990:  SUE, THE LARGEST AND MOST COMPLETE TYRANNOSAURUS REX SKELETON FOUND TO DATE, IS DISCOVERED BY SUE HENDRICKSON IN SOUTH DAKOTA.

Wonder how she came up with that name?

1994:  MAJOR LEAGUE BASEBALL PLAYERS GO ON STRIKE AND THIS WILL CANCEL THE 1994 WORLD SERIES.

A true black eye from which they have only partially recovered.

2000:  ACTRESS LORETTA YOUNG DIES.

The door closes for the last time.

2002:  BASEBALL STAR ENOS SLAUGHTER DIES.

He never went on strike.

2007: TV STAR MERV GRIFFIN DIES.

He will not be back after this commercial message.

2009:  GUITARIST LES PAUL DIES.

Strum this.

2014:  ACTRESS LAUREN BACALL DIES.

Thought she was dead long before she was.  Meanwhile, I heard she was a real bitch.

Dinner last night:  Grilled Taylor Ham with fried egg and cheese on toasted English muffin.

And Here's Another Pandemic Movie Review

Long time readers here know that movie reviews are a huge staple of content on this blog.  Well, in 2020, the real challenge is finding films to critique.   And sometimes the way I find a movie is more interesting than the film itself.

Such is the case with "Palm Springs."   I actually was surveying some of the drive-ins in the LA city to see if there was any chance to see a movie with a real live audience around you, even if they're all socially distanced in their cars.

Well, I found nothing really.   Indeed, this movie "Palm Springs" was dominating all of the outdoor screens.   It certainly wasn't worth a 45 minute drive to the Inland Empire.   But I noted that it was a Hulu production and it only takes 45 seconds to get to my living room.

And that's how I saw "Palm Springs," which is really nothing but a 90 minute rehash of "Groundhog Day."  Andy Samberg, whom I can take and mostly leave, plays a wedding cast at a hotel somewhere in the Palm Desert.   He's there the day before the nuptuals and, indeed, he's there the day before the nuptuals over and over and over.   He is stuck in some strange universe and even trying to kill himself doesn't alleviate the problem.   He simply wakes up the next morning all over again.

Now that I write that sentence, it certainly sounds like what everybody has been going through since March, right?

Well, he hooks up with the bride's sister, played by Cristian Milioti and some how she gets trapped in the same dilemma.   So, now you have two people together going day after day.   Add in a stalking assassin played by the always welcome J.K. Simmons and you have a movie.

Or do you?

"Palm Springs" seems to be as stuck in the mud as its main characters.   It offers an interesting premise that wears thin quickly just like the last quarantine.

But it was a film and I could review it here so that immediately hurts it at least one star.   And the fact that I could walk into the kitchen/snack bar in ten seconds was another plus.

So it is with the movie going experience in 2020.

LEN'S RATING:  Two stars.

Dinner last night:  Leftover Mongolian beef.

Monday Morning Video Laugh - August 10, 2020

From the days when you shopped without a mask.

Dinner last night:  Bacon wrapped filet mignon with balsamic tomato jam.

The Sunday Memory Drawer - Remembering My Time in the Dodger Press Box - Part 2

I told you there was more.   Remembering my stint as guest co-host of Dodger Talk in 2010 with my follow-up visit one year later.

And this time I actually took a picture.

Here's your unflappable blog writer along with KABC's Dodger Talk hosts and uber-nice guys, Joe Block and Josh Suchon.  They were also conveniently my hosts for another evening that will go down in the highlight reel of my life.

Somehow, I wound up back in the Dodger Stadium press box for a 2011 game and that year's experience, like "The Godfather, Part 2," topped the original.

And, frankly, I wasn't even looking to do it again.  Yes, gang, here comes some requisite but much needed Hollywood backstory.

A truly positive (and perhaps only) legacy that the Frank McCourt family left the Los Angeles Dodgers is the development of the Think Cure foundation, donated to raising money and awareness for cancer research.  It's the Southern California version of the Jimmy Fund, which was a long time charity of the Boston Red Sox and originally shepherded by Ted Williams.

Think Cure's annual fundraising event included a telethon and an on-line auction for memorablia and stadium "experiences."  Now, in any given year, I'm going to donate a certain chunk to a cancer cause, remembering, of course, a parent and several other relatives who bravely tried to battle the disease.   Why not give some dough and get something tangible in return?

Several years prior, I had dipped my toe into the philantrophic waters, but stayed squarely in the shallow end.  I got myself a baseball autographed by Clayton Kershaw. 

In 2010, I shot a little higher.  One of the "experiences" offered was the opportunity to be a "co-host" of KABC's Dodger Talk, the post-game show that follows all Dodger games.  For those not familiar, it's perhaps the most balanced and intelligent of all Major League Baseball team post-game shows.  Years of listening to "Vinnie from Bayonne" calling in to bash Mets manager Davey Johnson give me the credence to make that declaration.

Okay, if you haven't read last week's Part 1, I'll provide a quick thumbnail summary.  I watched the game in the press box.  I had an introduction to the legendary Vin Scully among others.  And I got to have a bit of a stuttery moment on the air after the game.  Still, it was all superlative, thanks mainly due to Josh Suchon and then-host Ken Levine, whose terrific blog is now linked to mine and vice versa.

So, the 2011 Think Cure auction rolls around and I survey the list of goodies.  Hmm, the Dodger Talk experience is up for grabs again.  Now, as much as I enjoyed it last year, I hesitate to bid on it.  How much better could it be?  And, what would happen if I show up again and I get a reaction from one of the hosts that clearly translates to "oh, hi, it's you again?"

I opt to zone in on a piece of art.  Why?  No clue.  But, it's an artist's interpretation of the Brooklyn Dodger celebration following Game 7 of the 1955 World Series.  Surely, I can hang it someplace.  And, frankly, I'm not a patron of the arts.  I couldn't tell the esthetic difference between the Mona Lisa and two comic strip panels from last Sunday's Blondie.

So, I dive into bidding for this painting and soon discover myself in an on-line war with some kook from Pacoima.  As the price keeps going up and up, I wonder just how commited I am to funding this artist's next five gallery showings.   A donation to cancer research is one thing.  The last third of my life being spent on a diet of ramen noodles is another.  And, besides, I don't have the wall space.

I sincerely hope the kook from Pacoima is enjoying his purchase.

At the eleventh hour, I shifted focus and surveyed what was still within the economic realm of the last stimulus package.  Hmmm.  The Dodger Talk experience was still up and. with decimal places, in a price stratosphere closer to Mercury than Pluto.   This, of course, was long before my 401K headed down a non-Chavez Ravine.  But, like Jerry Lewis used to do on his telethon, I'm still thinking about the sick kids.  I placed a bid on Dodger Talk.

And wound up in another bidding war.  Who the hell is this person?  The Kook from Pacoima had been replaced by a Pest from Pasadena.  The price escalated and I amazingly continued to climb right along with it.  I started to wonder if this is how Bernie Madoff got started.

I hung in there long enough for the deadline clock to strike high noon and/or Carpal-Tunnel pain started to bother the Pest from Pasadena.  I would be heading back to Dodger Talk. 

My winning contribution cleared my credit card in record time with American Airlines Advantage miles to boot, thank you very much.  But, for several weeks following the auction, there was radio silence regarding plans for my 2011 Dodger Talk experience.   In 2010, I had heard from co-host Josh Suchon pretty quickly.  Not so this year.  I still had his contact info and I thought about forging ahead and e-mailing/calling him myself.  But, what if he was clearly in "oh, hi, it's you again" mode?  I decided to contact the charity directly.

A few days later, I heard back from Ingrid at Think Cure with many apologies.  The original contact at the charity had left the foundation and my experience was one of those which had fallen through the cracks.  In several phone calls and e-mails, she apologized so much that I began to think she had actually seen how low my 401K had subsequently dropped.  I kept reassuring her that I was not worried, but she kept apologizing.  Gee, I didn't give that much.  Or did I?  Nevertheless, Ingrid was intent on following this through and wouldn't rest until my Dodger Talk experience was scheduled.

I did hear from KABC and my date was confirmed.  I touched base with Josh and I didn't discern an audible grimace on the other end of the phone.  I was good to go.  But, Ingrid still didn't feel right.  More notes thanking me for my kindness and patience.  One more e-mail and I expected an invitation to her house for Thanksgiving.

Then, Ingrid e-mails me...

"Is this your current home address?"

Hmmm.  Maybe she's actually coming over to my house to cook Thanksgiving dinner.

Another e-mail...

"Who's your favorite Dodger?"

I see where this is going.  I tell her Clayton Kershaw.  And add that I have an autographed ball and wear "his" jersey when he pitches.  But, I offer up Matt Kemp and Chad Billingsley as worthy replacements.

Another e-mail...

"We're sending something out today."

Two days later, an envelope arrives.  It's not bulky, so it's obviously not a baseball.  I tear it open like it's Christmas morning to find...

A garment bag adorned by the Major League Baseball logo.

Huh?  Is this their sneaky way of telling me I have tickets to the World Series?

In a rare moment of genius, I zip open the garment bag.  And find a jersey autographed by Chad Billingsley.

I thought about the painting I was bidding on.  And backing out because I had no place to hang it.

Once framed, this Chad Billingsley jersey will easily find a home in my home.  I may have to move to a place with more walls, but that will be a problem for another day.  A terrific bonus from the folks at Think Cure.

When it came to my actual Dodger Talk appearance, I didn't need any bonuses.  At the door to the Vin Scully Press Box, I was met warmly by Josh Suchon.  When introduced to new Dodger Talk co-host Joe Block, he noted that I would be missing last year's co-host/famed comedy writer Ken Levine, who has moved on to doing radio play-by-play for the Seattle Mariners.  Joe was almost apologetic.

"The only thing I know about Cheers is that Coach died."

No worries.  If needed, I can easily find Ken on Facebook.  

Josh attempted to introduce me to the other Dodger broadcasters, but all of them were in their private dining room enjoying a pre-game repast.  Having a moment last year with Vin Scully, I had already exhausted our connection of having WFUV and Fordham University in our mutual pasts.  I had struggled to think about what I would say to him this year.  Oddly, I was happy to be spared the handshake and the small talk in 2011.

While most of my experience was exactly the same as it had been in 2010, save for Joe replacing Ken, it felt almost mystically different.  Chowing down on a turkey burger (same as last year) in the press box cafeteria known affectionately as Dave's Diner, I had the weird sensation that I belonged.  

Heck, a career like this is what I longed for when I was in college, but opportunities and largely talent moved me into other arenas.  But, thanks to the ultra-congenial atmosphere anchored by Josh and Joe, I felt simply like another reporter in the room.  And that was a very good feeling indeed.

The game was a long one as Padre starting pitcher Tim Stauffer morphed into Steve Blass and walked seven, count 'em, seven batters in the second inning.  Then, allegedly-injured Dodger Andre Ethier recovered from what might have been overnight arthroscopic surgery on his knee and hit a grand slam.  The final score wound up Dodger 8, Padres 5.  For me, the game lasted long enough and really not long enough.  I had a thoroughly fabulous time with my two hosts as we simply, to quote Joe Block, "talked some ball."

Once again, as we chatted all night, I got to watch Josh and Joe do their homework for the post-game show.  Early on, they began to frame the topics they would put out there for the callers.  I marveled at how buttoned up they are.  Meanwhile, I look around at some of the other members of the press corps.  One is reading the "Beverly Hills Courier," as if such a newspaper actually has a sports department.  Most are in and out of their Facebook pages. 

Hey, wait, I do a lot of the same stuff at work, too.

Last year, my cameo appearance on the Dodger Talk post-game show was really a "Where's Waldo" moment.  And, unfortunately, I stumbled, mumbled, and fumbled through some jibberish about how disappointing the 2010 Dodger season had been.  Trust me.  Airchecks can not be found in the broadcasting wing of the Cooperstown Baseball Hall of Fame.

This year, however,  I prepped as I listened to Josh and Joe do their own prep.  I thought about the three topics they were focusing on and began to formulate my own responses to them.  Just in case they asked.

Well, they did.  And, according to friends around the country who listened to the show via podcast, I was blended so seamlessly into the show that I came off like a regular feature of the show.  Said friends also commented on how terrificly balanced and professional a post-game call-in show could be for a baseball franchise.  I wonder out loud just how bad Marlins Talk is.

It, and I, sounded good for a reason.  Josh and Joe do their homework and show their passion.  And it winds up on the air.

And this explains why I'm already looking forward to another on-line auction, another winning donation (Fidelity Investments willing), and another good time at Dodger Talk.  Sure, one of these years, I'm expecting to show up and find that Josh Suchon and Joe Block have been gobbled by other baseball teams and are now the radio or TV play-by-play guys working in the visitor's booth. 

Well, in that case, I am available.  And slightly experienced.

Or maybe I'll just bid on some artwork.  Contingent, of course, on Ingrid from Think Cure finding me a new condo with more square footage.

Whatever the case, there is no better cause than cancer research.  Those children are the ultimate winners to any on-line auction.

Dinner last night:  Mongolian beef and lettuce wraps from Mandarette.