JANUARY 6TH
I just spent 2 hours reliving the events before, during, and after the January insurrection. The Washington Post has assembled reports, emails, and videos that tell an an amazing story. I highly recommend it.
I'm not going to comment on this presentation, other than to say that it is a remarkable piece of reportage.
Just be prepared, as Edward R. Murrow said: "It could happen here, if we are not vigilant."
'THE ATTACK BEFORE, DURING AND AFTER'
email@washingtonpost.com
STAR TREK
I really enjoyed all of the Star Trek episodes that featured "still kicking" Bill Shatner. Although he may be a Canadian, I would vote for him as one of the United States best character actors.
However, I must amend that statement slightly, because I just remembered that Elaine and I recently saw him in a horrible movie that used to be called a "chick flick." He did OK with what he had been given to him as a script, but, in my opinion, he never should have accepted the part.
There is a nice You Tube video of Bill being interviewed by Johnny Carson. I highly recommend it.
In one Star Trek episode I liked, Bill (Captain Kirk) is changed into a woman. This change is not noticeable until he is shown passing by a wall mirror, at which point he looks closely at his image and quickly adjusts his hair.
In another episode Kirk finds himself on a warring planet. He asks some combatants why they are at war. They say: "Isn't it obvious? Look at us."
"You look OK to me. One half of your body is white, the other is black."
"But don't you understand, our enemies are white on the left side and we are white on the right side."
This is, in my opinion, a great lesson for humans. All of us are anatomically equal, except that some of us have black, brown, white, yellow, or red skin. So, why the hell can't we all get along.
Another episode that I haven't been able to get out of my mind was titled "The Corbomite Maneuver." Captain Kirk finds himself on a planet which features a scary monster. Kirk finds out that the monster is a puppet controlled by Commander Balog, who looks just like a 7-year-old boy, and guess what, ... the part was played by a 7-year-old boy, Clint Howard.
Clint played in many roles during his early years and was the younger brother of Ron Howard (you know... Opie Taylor, lovable little son of Andy, sheriff of Mayberry.) Ron is now the director of blockbuster movies, such as "Cocoon."
Ron and Clint have collaborated on an enjoyable book (The Boys) outlining their experiences as child actors in movies and TV shows. I have the book on my Kindle and am enjoying the read.
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SOME THOUGHTS FOR THE DAY
I forgot how to pepper my blog entries with pictures, but I'm working on it. Meanwhile, here are a few "gems" from my files, followed by information about an interesting married couple that we once knew.
LIFE
In Goethe's FAUST, Mephistopheles (Satan) says:
"Grau sind alle Theorie und gruen alein das Lebens goldene Baum."
Translation:
"... grey are all theories, and the only green wisdom comes from life's golden tree."
So.. live it up!
Oscar Wilde wrote: "People who count their chickens before they are hatched act very wisely because chickens run around so absurdly that it is impossible to count them accurately."
GOVERNMENT
Edward R. Murrow wrote: "A nation of sheep will soon have a government of wolves."
Aaron Karo says: "Did you know that a large group of baboons is called 'a congress?' That explains a lot now, doesn't it!"
TELEVISION
From FUNNY TIMES
Henny Youngman: "Have you noticed that TV families never watch television?"
Daniel Marsh, President of Boston University in 1950: "If the television craze continues with the present level of programs, we are destined to have a nation of morons." (We're there now, Dan.)
JOKES
That 7-year-old boy was sitting on the curb again and crying.
The old man asked him what was wrong.
Boy: "I just cleaned my room."
Old Man: "I'm proud of you. Why does that make you cry?"
Boy: "Because I still can't find my snake."
Husband races into the house and tells wife: "I've found a great job. Incredible pay, free medical insurance, and five weeks paid vacation.
Wife says: " That's great."
Husband says: "Good. You start tomorrow."
(This was a joke I delivered when I was an emcee at a County function. It got a good reception.)
My wife and I celebrated our 42nd wedding anniversary by going out to a restaurant. We went to a little place called McDonalds.
I ordered for us; a Big Mac and a coke with two glasses. I put half of the coke in one glass and gave it to my wife.
As I began to eat the Big Mac, I noticed a guy looking at us sadly. He said: "I feel real sorry for you poor senior citizens ... let me buy you more food."
I said: "Sir, you don't understand ... my wife and I have been married a very long time and we share everything. That's why we got one coke. We split it, like we do everything."
The man said: "I see, but why are you having the hamburger and your wife is not?"
"Well, Sir, that's because this is my week for the teeth,"
Finally ...
MADE FOR EACH OTHER
As a teenager I had a mild connection with the many circuses that came through New Bedford, Massachusetts in the 1950's.
My future bride and I spent time at each circus. We were especially interested in the so-called "Freak Shows." We made friends with two of those "freaks," ... "The Monkey Lady and The Alligator Man." (I've made up names for them.)
The Alligator man (AL) looked normal from the neck up, but the rest of his body was covered with a skin condition that looked like scales. In spite of that, he was a very outgoing and friendly guy.
AL was usually the "attraction" situated next to the Monkey Lady (MONA), who was covered all over with hair.
She suffered a rare hereditary condition known as "Congenital Generalized Hypertrichosis Terminalis," sometimes called the "Werewolf Syndrome." Most people would say that her hirsuteness made her look "ape like."
MONA was also a friendly person who didn't mind talking with young folks.
Her hairiness obviously didn't bother AL and they were married in a highly publicized wedding. I'd like to say we received an invitation, but I can't find such a document.
MYSTERIES
My miscreant mouse is now residing in a junkpile. Good riddance. Kathy has now found 2 old mice in the basement and one is working well. My son Chris has ordered me a new "and improved" mouse.
Meanwhile, I will retype all that the old mouse deleted and made unrecoverable.
This will now become one of my mysteries: How did a lot of keyed-in data suddenly disappear even though "automatic save" was supposedly in effect? Blame it on that bad-acting mouse!
Before I tell you about three mysteries, let me regale you with two gentle religious stories.
Emo Phillips wrote: "When I was a kid, I used to pray every night for a new bicycle. Then I realized that the Lord, in his wisdom, didn't work that way. So, I stole one, and asked Him to forgive me."
Mitchell Hauser wrote: "A priest, a minister and a rabbi want to see who's best at his job. So they each go into the woods, find a bear, and attempt to convert it. Later they get together.
The priest begins: 'When I found the bear, I read to him from the Catechism and sprinkled him with holy water. Next week is his First Communion.'
'I found a bear by the stream,' says the minister, and 'preached God's holy word. The bear was so mesmerized that he let me baptize him.'
They both looked down at the rabbi, who is lying on a gurney in a body cast. 'Looking back,' he says, 'maybe I shouldn't have started with the circumcision.' "
MYSTERY NUMBER ONE
When I was a High School senior, I attended a recruitment presentation put on by Boston University (BU). In attendance were approximately 200 students.
After introducing himself, the presentation leader asked us to stand and say our names. (We were seated randomly.)
After saying our names, we were asked to reseat ourselves, but in different random locations.
The leader then had us all stand again as he accurately named each and every one of us!
I know this was some kind of mental (memory?) trick, but I've never figured it out. (I should have asked for an explanation when I was a BU student.)
MYSTERY NUMBER TWO
I was in Boston's South Station waiting for a train to take me to Air Force Basic Training, when an elderly man came over and sat down next to me.
He was very tall and skinny and had "piercing" eyes. He was hefting a long wooden shaft that looked just like an African spear and helped form a tripod with his two thin legs.
He wanted to talk to me and I'll try to reconstruct our dialogue, which scared the hell out of me.
Man: "Hello, Joe. How are you?"
Joe: "Do I know you?"
Man: "You're from New Bedford and your mother is Doris Vaughan. Right?"
Joe: "Yes, what's your name?'
Man: "That's not important. How are your Uncles, Allen and Billy doing? Are they still working at Corson's?"
Before I could reply, he reached into his coat pocket and produced a bunch of smudgy 4x6 photographs, some with sepia coloring, but most in black and white.
I only remember a couple of these photos. One showed the old man standing between two extremely tall, dark Africans in native garb.
Another had what I think was an Hawaiian scene, once again with natives looking like bookends.
This was a long time ago and I don't remember much more, but I do remember him showing me a lot of photos, all different. He had enjoyable stories to accompany each of these pictures.
Finally, my train came and as I looked out of the carriages window, I saw the old man hobbling along with his spear and sitting down next to a young man who was probably also waiting for his train to arrive.
Who was this man?
MYSTERY NUMBER THREE
When I was a child, everyone told me that my father was an Italian-American artist, and I believed them.
After my mother passed, I decided to try and contact my father's family. Part of that effort was DNA-checking.
I was then astounded to discover that my biological father was someone else. I also learned that he must be one of five brothers. Which one?
After lots of work by my son, we narrowed the list down to two, but now we are not sure which is the one. I'd like to learn which one before I disappear.
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FRIENDS AND ACQUAINTANCES
WARNING.. This is a long one.
Let me take you back to the 1950's, when I was a teen-ager. Some of this may shock you, and I apologize in advance.
(Some of my friends did not know about some of my other friends, and I liked it that way. It was as though I lived in several universes.)
Just before my 18th birthday, I got reacquainted with my future bride, and from then on, she and I spent every Saturday night on a date, and all day Sunday doing fun things ... including wonderful (one dollar!) all-you-can-eat fried chicken suppers on coastal Cape Cod.
During my time in New Bedford High School (NBHS), I interacted in study periods and gym classes with kids I had known in earlier schools.
Whenever I skipped school, my buddy Casey would usually accompany me on fun trips. (I didn't learn until years later that the Truant Officer lived half-way up the street from our house. Why didn't he catch me?)
Well, sometimes I would walk by a Portuguese cafe and stop to listen to Fados coming from the open front door. I loved those sad songs. I still do.
One day a pretty lady saw me listening and invited me in for a Coke, and from then on let me come in to listen any time I wanted to.
I thought she looked familiar and one day she told me that she was the vice-principal for NBHS, and she had been fixing up my records so as not to show any truancy.
Do you see how difficult it was to be a cute teen-aged blond boy? Lots of these kinds of adventures awaited me if I could only get over my shyness.
After school and on some weekends, I would interact with my (supposedly) "women-hater" friends, Howie, Joe, Harry and Cliffy. We would tour, crowded into Howie's mini British car, and once in a while, we would continue our efforts to form an orchestra. Howie was a great trumpet player and I tried to play the marimbas.
But, mainly, we played baseball near the home of a pretty redhead. Unknown to us until we received a wedding announcement, she was Howie's girlfriend. So much for the "women haters."
I also interacted with my Cousin Charlie. I liked to think of him as my "little brother." He and his parents convinced me that my "evil ways" needed a dose of Baptist religion. This ruined my plans for sleeping late on Sunday mornings.
However, my adventures, both alone and then with my semi-religious friends while a Baptist formed a vital part of my education, and it was enjoyable.
(As I mentioned, I kept most of my friends and acquaintances apart, and not many knew about my other "friends" at the YMCA where I worked.)
Yes, I worked 7 hours each day at the New Bedford YMCA, and interacted with lots of people, some of whom I considered my friends.. Let me start at the top and work downward.
Bob Hastings was the "Y's" physical director. He had an office on the third floor. His "barebones" office furniture consisted of a desk and swivel chair, a work table with two hard back chairs, and a pool table with no pockets. My friend, Casey, tried to teach me Kelly Pool on that table.
Mr. Hastings was the embodiment of the YMCA motto: "Spirit, Mind and Body," especially the "body" part. He was probably 5'8" with an 18" waist and 60" chest. Nobody could compare to this muscular guy, unless they were named Schwatzenegger. Mr. Hastings was the person we all tried to emulate.
Paul Favor was the head of the local "Y." He was a short but ramrod straight middle-aged man with a commanding presence.
He seldom came out of his office. Some younger kids thought that he might be "God."
Paul was what would now be called a "Health Nut," and one day he accosted me at the pool table and instructed me to sit across from him at the work table.
He told me: "Joe, I want you to start a boys' health club. I want you to be the President. At the first meeting in November (I've reserved a room for your meeting) I want you to go over this material."
He then took a large package of pictures from his briefcase and laid some out on the table. "Yuk!" It was pictures of the inside of lungs (or something similar) and I felt like throwing up.
"So, Joe, take these pictures and talk about them at your meeting. It may convince some young people to stop smoking. Good luck with the meeting. Let me know how it works out."
Perhaps nobody had told Paul that I was only nine years old and so shy I couldn't even speak up in class.
I left the pictures on the table, ran out of the building, and did not reappear for six months, when Paul had apparently forgotten all about his instructions and may have also forgotten what I even looked like.
Lots happened on the first floor, but I want to just talk about what went on in the "side room."
My work shift began at 2:30 pm, and sometimes I was able to get there around 1:30, so I had time to kill.
The room had a grand piano that was kept in tune. One of the members would often serenade us with classical selections. Sometimes he would try to teach me to play. I think I did learn to play a couple of simple tunes, but always off key, in spite of the fact that my mother, Aunt Hattie, and Aunt Mary all learned piano "by ear." The three of them had jobs playing background music for the old "non-talking" movies.
My volunteer piano teacher was named Bill. He was a descendant of an old famous New England family. He was a tall, handsome well-groomed man of middle-age.
Bill had a few bucks and always drove a new Cadillac. He would be a great "catch" for any female. However Bill was a homosexual (termed "Gay" now) and had a boyfriend, D.
D was very short and not too bright, but his claim to fame was his title as a "Bank Walker." (Ask a country person what that means.) He liked girls but stuck with Bill because Bill let him drive his Cadillacs around town and to periodic homosexual conventions in Portland, Maine.
Bill was an extremely intelligent guy and would lecture me about the theories of Freud, Darwin, Kant and others. Much more interesting than the stuff I was learning in the "Business Course" at NBHS.
I don't think the YMCA was prejudiced against "Gay" people, but pedophiles were a different story. Once in a while we had to expel men who had obtained their memberships so they could ogle the little kids as they took showers.
At 2:30 pm, I would relieve red-haired Frankie. He was five foot nothing and one tough guy. He had been a boxer and he had forearms like Popeye.
Frankie was a nice guy. He lived with his girlfriend and her children. They used to sup at some "beer garden." I never knew where. I envisioned a scene by Laurel and Hardy, where they enjoyed wienerschnitzel and beer at a beer garden.
Because I was a teen-ager, Frankie thought that I must have a busy sexual life and he constantly bugged me to tell him about it. Although I did not have such a life, I would make up little stories that seemed to satisfy him.
Another little but tough boxer I knew was Joe Dundee. I mentioned that I was going to Providence, Rhode Island to have an Army physical and he told me to look for his brother Angelo, who ran the place.
In a room full of naked guys, some find themselves unable to produce urine for a very important drug test. I noticed a little guy in uniform whose job was to manipulate genitals in order to fulfill the requirement. Close inspection of his nametag revealed his name, Angelo Dundee.
Another guy in my area was called BIM. He was 6'6" tall and weighed close to 350 pounds. Soap and other cleaning material was delivered in 400 pound steel drums. Bim was the only person I knew who could lift one of the drums and carry it around.
Brad was a blind man who ran a health spa in the basement. He was one of the few people who could do a one-arm hand-stand. He also could do acrobatics better than any circus person that I had ever seen.
Brad loved to discuss esoteric things with his clients as they took tanning treatments. Unable to block out the speech coming over the wall from Brad's spa, I vowed that if I heard another person say "metaphysics" again, I would scream.
Sometimes, after Brad had shut down for the weekend, some of us (Casey, Woody, Daryl) would sneak over and get a little tanning in.
One day, Bill accompanied us and took muscle pictures of us with his Leika. (Some of them were pretty good and are floating around on the Internet.)
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MARRIAGE AND SUCH
(True)
Joe: "Did you have a good sleep?"
Elaine: "I don't know. I didn't wake up to find out."
(Dining Out)
Ari Goldman to the New York Times:
"My wife and I went to a restaurant on Broadway on the upper West Side. It was a beautiful late summer night, and we took a table on the street.
A bright-eyed young waitress approached us and asked if we'd like to start with drinks.
My wife ordered a tequila.
The waitress smiled and noted it on her hand-held device.
I ordered a screwdriver.
The waitress stared at me blankly.
It was noisy on Broadway, so I repeated my request: 'A screwdriver, please.'
The waitress shrugged.
'OK,' she said. 'But can you tell me what you need it for?' "
(TIP)
"I was thinking that women should put pictures of missing husbands on beer cans." (anon.)
(GOOD NEWS)
A U.S. study has concluded that having sex once or twice a week gives a boost to the immune system that could ward off colds and the flu.
Apparently, moderate sexual activity increases levels of immunoglobulin (IgA) that triggers the destruction of bad bacteria, according to Carl Charnetski of Wilkes University in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania.
(POINT OF VIEW AND RETORT)
Husband: "When I was married for 25 years, I took a look at my wife and said:
'Honey, 25 years ago, we had a cheap apartment, a cheap car, slept on a sofa bed and watched a 10-inch black and white TV, but I got to sleep every night with a hot 25 year old blonde.
Now, we have a nice house, nice car, big bed, and a 55 inch plasma TV, but I'm sleeping with a 50 year old woman. It seems to me that you are not holding up your side of things."
"My wife is a very reasonable woman and she told me to go out and find a 25 year old blonde, and she would make sure that I would once again be living in a cheap apartment, driving a cheap car, and sleeping on a sofa bed."
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