Remember Eastern Airlines? The snow birds do.
Dinner last night: Taylor ham, egg, and cheese sandwich.
Saturday, February 5, 2022
Friday, February 4, 2022
Ground Mug Shot Day - February 2022
With the way liberal DAs are emptying the jails these days, these clowns will barely see six more minutes of prison.
Dinner last night: Leftover lasagna.
Thursday, February 3, 2022
The Slow, Sad Decline of Woody Allen
I used to say that a mediocre Woody Allen movie was better than most of the other stuff you would find at the theaters. But I don't know how to position any upside to a really bad Woody Allen movie. And "Rifkin's Festival" is really bad.
This is Allen's 49th feature and, for the most part, he has entertained us with a new film once a year. Some are phenomenal. Others are fair. And a few are...see above...mediocre. Nevertheless, he kept up that annual schedule even when he was the headline scandal of a few years. You could always find at least one admirable thing in his films.
Until "Rifkin's Festival." With this one, you can see second-hand the director aging. I mean, he's in his mid 80s. But the creative verve is clearly what is slowing down. Hollywood has noticed this for years. This movie, like several other recent ones, could not get funded in the US. Had it not been for European finances, we would have seen the last of Woody Allen perhaps a decade earlier.
Maybe that would have been a good thing. "Rifkin's Festival" is pointless and weak on so many levels. The first and most prevalent issue is with the lead who is essentially playing Woody Allen. The star is Wallace Shawn and his acting is usually only tolerated in the smallest of doses. Well, in this one, Shawn plays a nebbish film historian attending a Cannes-like film festival with his press agent wife played by Gina Gershon. Please note that there's at least twenty years difference in age between those two and it makes their pairing inexplicable.
Gershon is having an affair with a young hot shot French director. Shawn...well, Rifkin...senses this and then conjures up everything from chest pains to ringing of the ears so that he can visit a cute local doctor who herself is in a bad marriage.
The four of them meander around these mis-matches for about 90 minutes. The action is interrupted several times by Rifkin's dreams where he puts his problems in the context of classic movies like "Citizen Kane," "Breathless," and Ingmar Bergman's "The Seventh Seal' with a cameo from Christoph Waltz as Death!
If you think this all sounds incredibly dreary, you win the kewpie doll at the county fair. There is an innate sadness realizing that we are the end of Woody Allen's career. But, I guess the good news is that we got to enjoy his career for much longer than we deserved.
LEN'S RATING: One star.
Dinner last night: Pork tenderloin sandwich.
Wednesday, February 2, 2022
This Date in History - February 2
506: ALARIC II, EIGHTH KING OF THE VISIGOTHS, PROMULGATES THE BREVIARY OF ALARIC.
I don't know what "promulgate" means, but it definitely sounds like it hurts.
1032: CONRAD II, HOLY EMPEROR, BECOMES KING OF BURGUNDY.
And the crowd chanted, "we love you, Conrad, oh, yes, we do, we don't love anyone as much as you, when you're not near us, boo hoo, oh, Conrad, we love you."
1536: SPANIARD PEDRO DE MENDOZA FOUNDS BUENOS AIRES, ARGENTINA.
Which might make the Equator the real "Mendoza Line."
1542: THE PORTUGUESE, UNDER CHRISTOVAO DA GAMA, CAPTURE A MOSLEM-OCCUPIED HILL FORT IN NORTHERN ETHIOPIA.
Nobody wanted that damn mosque even then.
1653: NEW AMSTERDAM (LATER RENAMED THE CITY OF NEW YORK) IS INCORPORATED.
Good thing they changed the name. The song would not have worked. "Come through, New Amsterdam, New Amsterdam." Liza would have never managed that especially with her ill-fitting dentures.
1790: THE SUPREME COURT OF THE UNITED STATES CONVENES FOR THE FIRST TIME.
And it remains one of the biggest jokes of our Federal Government.
1812: RUSSIA ESTABLISHES A FUR TRADING COLONY AT FORT ROSS, CALIFORNIA.
And one Russian was quoted as saying, "that's no fur, that's my wife."
1848: DURING THE CALIFORNIA GOLD RUSH, THE FIRST SHIP WITH CHINESE IMMIGRANTS ARRIVES IN SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA.
And we know it sure as shit wasn't the last. Days later, San Francisco also was the spot for the very first fender bender in American history.
1876: THE NATIONAL LEAGUE OF MAJOR LEAGUE BASEBALL IS FORMED.
It still needed work. It only had one team who kept playing with themselves over and over.
1878: GREECE DECLARES WAR ON TURKEY.
Ensuring there would never ever be a Thanksgiving Day in Greece.
1882: THE KNIGHTS OF COLUMBUS ARE FORMED IN NEW HAVEN, CONNECTICUT.
And now husbands finally had a good excuse to explain to their wives where they are on Wednesday nights.
1887: IN PUNXSUTAWNEY, PENNSYLVANIA, THE FIRST GROUNDHOG DAY IS OBSERVED.
Giving us six more centuries of nonsense.
1897: HOTELIER HOWARD JOHNSON IS BORN.
Years before his cameo appearance in "Blazing Saddles."
1913: GRAND CENTRAL STATION IS OPENED IN NEW YORK CITY.
And just like the trains inside, it was probably scheduled to open on February 1.
1915: ISRAELI DIPLOMAT ABBA EBAN IS BORN.
I bet you thought this would be a "Mamma Mia" joke. Laugh's on you. I don't have one.
1922: ULYSSES BY JAMES JOYCE IS PUBLISHED.
Two points off if you think this book is about the US General.
1935: LEONARDE KEELER TESTS THE FIRST POLYGRAPH MACHINE.
A date cursed by OJ Simpson years later.
1940: FRANK SINATRA DEBUTS WITH THE TOMMY DORSEY ORCHESTRA.
Love the orchestra, always hated him. I'm just sayin'.
1946: THE HUNGARIAN REPUBLIC IS PROCLAIMED.
Goulash available at popular prices.
1947: ACTRESS FARRAH FAWCETT IS BORN.
And now she's dead already. Creepy.
1967: THE AMERICAN BASKETBALL ASSOCIATION IS FORMED.
And now three fans had something to root for.
1969: ACTOR BORIS KARLOFF DIES.
For real this time. Not like in the five dozen movies where he was electrocuted, burned, stabbed through the heart, or drowned.
1971: IDI AMIN REPLACES PRESIDENT MILTON OBOTE AS LEADER OF UGANDA.
Officially the ugliest international leader ever.
1979: ROCKER SID VICIOUS DIES.
Like Barney Fife, the Sex Pistols are missing a bullet.
1992: HOST BERT PARKS DIES.
And there he goes...
1996: ACTOR/DANCER GENE KELLY DIES.
Actually, the word "genius" also applies. "An American in Heaven."
1990: F.W. DE KLERK ALLOWS THE AFRICAN NATIONAL CONGRESS TO FUNCTION LEGALLY AND PROMISES TO RELEASE NELSON MANDELA.
He's dead now, so the release is final.
2005: BOXER MAX SCHMELING DIES.
And, now, Schmeling really is down.
2013: ACTOR JOHN KERR DIES.
Sending his family tea and sympathy.
2014: ACTOR PHILLIP SEYMOUR HOFFMAN DIES.
Should have just said no.
2016: COMIC BOB ELLIOTT DIES.
For those paying attention, his partner Ray had died 26 years prior.
Dinner last night: Prosciutto pizza at Jon and Vinny's.
Tuesday, February 1, 2022
The Make-Up Counter at Costco
As a matter of fact, after I streamed this new release, I went to YouTube and pulled down some video of the real Tammy Faye. She wasn't made up half as much as the movie version was. I wonder about the choices the director Michael Showalter made in this regard. Was he trying to make her even more ghoulish? Was he trying to make her comedic? Who knows?
That said, this film is predictable and interesting all at the same time. You get what you expect. Or remember from those days in the 70s and 80s when evangelists Jim Bakker and his wife ruled the TV airwaves. In a linear fashion, this movie takes you from their first meeting to their stardom to their inevitable breakup when he starts fooling around with both women and men. And, oh yeah, these two embezzled a whole bunch of money in the name of God.
Chastain has an interesting approach to her portrayal as she works overtime to make Tammy Faye likeable. As a result, Andrew Garfield as the hubby becomes more of a villain in the eyes of the audience. Truth be told, they were both pretty damn screwed up. Again, there are no real surprises here, but it's kind of an eerie fun watching these two crooks implode on a big screen.
I am curious to see how the Academy will view the heavy-handed make-up in this movie. Is it Oscar worthy or not? Or is it excessive? Regardless, Bozo the Clown probably saw this film in shades of envy. Certainly, this is not a movie that would have worked in black and white.
LEN'S RATING: Three stars.
Dinner last night: Leftover pork tenderloin.
Monday, January 31, 2022
Monday Morning Video Laugh - January 31, 2022
The Betty White birthday salute concludes with her monologue from her hosting stint on SNL.
Dinner last night: Bacon wrapped pork tenderloin with red cabbage.
Sunday, January 30, 2022
The Sunday Memory Drawer - The Hell With Snow...and Birthdays
Snow.
I can recall many a blizzard wrecking my holiday from my days in NY. Much like the storm they are enduring there this weekend. On the other hand, most birthdays in California, while weather-calamity free, were largely ignored due to uninterested friends (except for one person) and/or COVID.
But I go back to one particular year which was perfectly horrific. Indeed, the title of today's piece could have been...
What Was I Thinking?
Why The Hell Did I Do This?
Kill Me Now.
Happy F-ing Birthday!
Enjoy the photo above. I took it from my terrace during one of two dozen snowstorms that I experienced in New York. It's beautiful coming down. Ten seconds later, not so much.
And, for some unexplained reason eight years back, I thought how nice it might be to spend my February birthday with the East Coast cadre of friends. This decision was helped along when some business meetings popped up for the same week. It all seemed to fall together perfectly.
Ahem.
The entire trip was so disaster-laden that even Irwin Allen would have thought it was too unbelievable to produce. One calamity after another. Every lousy step of the way, I kept thinking to myself --- "I ditched 80 degrees and sunny skies for this???"
It actually started to go downhill before I even left the tarmac at LAX. Our flight out was delayed because the crew needed to rest. Once they got their union-dictated catnap, we boarded the plane only to sit for an hour while Maintenance tried to fix a buggy computer chip. Ultimately, we were told that the plane was not going to be used. In two basic words, "get off."
We trudged back to the terminal and were instructed to stick around because they needed to find us another plane. I guess American Airlines doesn't have them in reserve. After forty-five minutes, we got the surprising announcement.
"We fixed the problem."
Ummmmm.......
More than one person worried as they reboarded the aircraft and assumed their former seats. Had the Geek Squad at Best Buy been called? As I walked by the open flight cabin, I peeked inside to see if I could some duct tape hanging off the console.
I settled into my coach seat and probably shouldn't have. I was approached by one of the flight attendants. My upgrade to Business Class had cleared when two business travelers never made it back to reboard. Okay, I was going to be four hours late arriving in NY but, at least, I'd be eating freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies on the way.
I nestled into the comfy seat 9H. The guy in 9G smiled at me. And then sneezed. And coughed. He never stopped. From Nevada all the way to Long Island. My seat had been upgraded and my health was being downgraded at the same time.
By the time I plodded into my New York apartment, my sinuses felt like they were full of cement blocks.
My so-called birthday weekend was full of Sudafed doses, swigs of Robitussin, and Ricola drops. If there was a cake with candles, I would have needed an oxygen mask to blow them out.
Back in the part of my life that was New York-based, I was prone to getting at least one cold and two sinus infections every year. In California, I have been phlegm-clean. On this trip, the winter radiator heat immediately had me so clogged that I suddenly felt it was 1992 all over again. Colors were coming out of me that I didn't even know existed.
Yeah, what the hell was I thinking???
Meanwhile, in the days prior to my arrival, there were two separate snowfalls of nine inches each. This crap never melted because the temperature hadn't gone above 25 since Christmas. Walking on my clumsy knee joints became a life-altering experience.
Once I had to go on my business rounds in Manhattan, I made a new discovery. In the past, major snow accumulations always seemed to disappear from the sidewalks of New York the very next day. I have no idea where they put the snow, but it was always magically gone. Not that February. Perhaps this is due to the then-new boob that was the NYC Mayor. (Yes, I am looking at you, Bill DeBlasio). The streets of Gotham City were still dotted with snow and ice. I looked for the nearest wall and held on.
For two days in Ice Station Zebra-like temperatures, I dragged myself from one business appointment to another. From Wall Street to uptown. Sliding in and out of cabs. Up and down subway steps. Sneezing and coughing at every turn.
On the morning of my actual birthday, I relished the comforts of my shower. That would clear out my sinuses for at least one hour.
Except, on the anniversary of my existence, the hot water in my building decided to take the day off. I washed my hair in the kitchen sink. I cleaned myself with a washcloth. A Parisian bath. As I dressed, I noticed the hem on my pants leg was ripped. Flat hair and now this???
My neighbor did a quick sewing job. I was finally put together for another round of Manhattan wind tunnels. Sneezing and coughing. Coughing and sneezing.
My plans for a birthday dinner with one of my good friends was upended by his work schedule, tied very much to the prospects of an impending blizzard.
Oh, yeah, that happened, too. Ten more inches of snow on the day I was scheduled to fly back to Los Angeles. Wisely, I switched my flight plan early. I'd be headed back home, but making a stop.
In Columbus, Ohio.
Yes, it gets a lot worse. Naturally, my original flight back to LAX left only 15 minutes late in the middle of the Thursday arctic blast. But driving to the airport would be treacherous. I had made the right choice. Friday. From JFK to Columbus to LAX. Simple?
The 315 PM flight from JFK to the bowels of Ohio was supposed to land at 530PM. The Columbus to LAX plane was supposed to leave at 605PM. I didn't think this provided much wiggle room, but I was assured that, in Ohio, the gates were adjacent. There would be no problems.
Of course, 315PM came and went and the plane didn't. We were still in the terminal waiting to board. The plane needed some maintenance. As I surveyed around, I noticed about twenty other people nervously looking at their watches or phones. We were all LA-bound. And soon to be connected in more than one adventure on this Friday.
Ultimately, we left JFK an hour late and there would be no need for an in-flight manicurist on this flight. Everybody was chewing down right to the cuticle. Word circulated that the flight from Columbus to LAX was being delayed. How thoughtful.
The reason became crystal clear as we approached Columbus. Or what we could see of it. There was a blinding snowstorm all around. The runways were coated with flakes. This was the last fifteen minutes of "Airport" all over again. Was Dean Martin flying the plane?
As we finally touched down and skidded a bit, we could see our next conveyance nestled at the gate. We had time. I ran as fast as the knees could, which was not very fast. But, indeed, our next departing gate was right there for us. I scanned the board and stopped instantaneously.
I had cleared for an upgrade! Okay, things were looking up. Or as much as things could look up when visibility was down to three feet.
As we scampered gleefully onto the plane, one of the twenty LAXers asked the flight attendant if our luggage would make the transfer.
"Of course."
You could see this truck coming a mile away.
We did depart Ohio, but first sat on the runway for a plane de-icing and then a plane anti-icing. Somebody will have to explain to me why this was done in the less logical order. But, moments later, we had left Columbus, Ohio behind.
Along with our luggage.
Yes, the twenty of us gathered one more time at American Airlines' Baggage Service. All on line to speak to the next available attendant.
Okay, truth be told, I can't quibble with this hiccup. I've flown this airline exclusively for the past 17 years. I have over 1.5 million miles logged. This is the first time I have had a luggage snafu. And, of course, the tried-and-true adage is that, if you want to lose your suitcase, book a connecting flight that gives you less than an hour to make the transfer. When it was my time, I didn't choose to yell at the other side of the counter. My fellow passengers were not so understanding.
"I have a wedding tomorrow and there's a six hundred dollar dress in my bag."
Okay, Stupid, don't blame American. Talk to your dopey friend who booked a wedding in the middle of February.
"My medication is in my suitcase."
And you stowed it away, Moron?
"My child's favorite toy is in the suitcase and she won't go to sleep without it."
Try Children's Nyquil.
I heard it all. But, perhaps after my week, I had grown numb to it all. I figured my bag would show up eventually.
At least, I was away from New York. My hometown. A city I have now grown to despise unless it's one week in May and one week in October. With its weather on steroids, I choose to spend the rest of my life under a constant and boring sun.
I send a note to all my friends in Southern California. If you ever hear of me longing to spend a birthday week in New York, you are hereby encouraged to slap me vigorously.
And often. I'm open to any plans you have for me....in Los Angeles.
Dinner last night: Sausage pizza from Maria's.
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