Rant #2,033: My Dad

Today is my father's 86th birthday.

My father continues to be the male bedrock of our small family.

Sure, he has aged in years, but he has not changed much at all over those years.

He is very opinionated, highly competitive, and still as strong as an ox.

My father retired last year after literally a life of work, including years as a butcher and then as a New York City licensed medallion cab driver.

He also served in the Marines during the Korean War. No, he never went over there--he supposedly had two sets of papers, one sending him to Korea and the other keeping him just where he was--but I often joke that due to my contest win of last year, finally someone in our family was sent to Korea.

He is the guy I looked up to at the start of my life. I thought he was so tall, me being a little shrimp and he being 5 feet, 11 inches.

But then I started to grow taller, he seemed to shrink, but only in stature.

In importance to me, in his influence on me, well, he only got stronger.

When I had my ups and my downs, he was always there, through thick and thin.

And even at 86 years of age, he (and my mother, for that matter) still have plenty of things to do to keep them busy.

My dad loves his children, adores being around his grandchildren, and maybe one day, he will bask in the glow of his great grandchildren (mind you, nothing is imminent in this regard).

So I celebrate my father today; we should all be so full of life when we get to his age.

Sure, his hearing isn't as good as it once was, and no, he could not work the grueling schedule that he did when he was younger, but like I said, he continues to be strong, full of life, and someone I will always look up to, even if he has shrunk a couple of inches in stature.

He is my hero; I could not have picked a better father if I had a choice in the matter.

No, we don't see eye to eye on everything, but that is all part of the fun of being the son of such an astute person, who can still argue his way out of a paper bag if he needs to.

On his birthday, I can't think of a better tribute than to print the lyrics of a song that was a hit way back when, but is seldom heard today.

It is "My Dad," composed by Barry Mann and Cynthia Weil and sung by actor/singer Paul Petersen, then one of the stars of "The Donna Reed Show."

I always liked this song, but I don't think I understood it fully until I became older and was a dad myself.

I have not been given permission to print these lyrics, I do not own them or have any rights to them. I print the lyrics because they say to perfection what I feel about my dad, on his birthday today or any day of the year.

"He isn't much in the eyes of the world
He'll never make history
No, he isn't much in the eyes of the world
But he is the world to me

My dad, now here is a man
To me he is everything strong
No, he can't do wrong, my dad

My dad, now he understands
When I bring him troubles to share
Oh, he's always there, my dad

When I was small I felt ten feet tall
When I walked by his side
And everyone would say "That's his son"
And my heart would burst with pride

My dad, oh I love him so
And I only hope that some day
My own son will say
"My dad, now here is a man"

I would suggest that you view the video of the song to get the full effect of what its words are trying to say. You can see Petersen sing the song on the show at this address: https://youtu.be/N-vYuV3OmhE

Again, a very happy birthday to my dad, and many, many more.

Classic Rant #686 (March 1, 2012): More On Davy

I was very happy to see that the TV news outlets gave Davy Jones' untimely passing full coverage yesterday and today.

This news was spread across news tickers on all the stations far and wide, and stories on his passing were on both the local news and network newscasts.

CNN's Piers Morgan interviewed Micky Dolenz last night, and the story got the maximum coverage that it should have gotten.

For baby boomers, we all aged a little yesterday.

Reportedly, Jones told a reporter recently that he had been to a doctor, and got a clean bill of health. In fact, the doctor said that he had the heart "of a 25-year old," and that he was in great shape at 66 years of age.

That number 66 is pretty eerie too. Not only was it Jones' age when he died, but 1966 was the year the Monkees debuted.

Very strange indeed.

Here are a couple of links to some interesting sound and video files that I've previously posted elsewhere. Some music, some chat, but all-Monkees.

And Davy was, ultimately the penultimate Monkee, probably the greatest pure teen idol of all time.

I think you will enjoy these files as much as I did posting them.

Davy Jones and Micky Dolenz -Tomorrow Show, 9-1-77.mp3
Davy Jones and Micky Dolenz -Tomorrow Show, 9-1-77 (2).mp3

001. Dream World.mp3

001. Monkees - Valleri.mp3

003. We Were Made For Each Other.mp3

005. Daydream Believer_2.mp3

008. The Poster.mp3

010. Monkees - It's Nice To Be With You.mp3

Rant #2,032: Happy Together

On Black Friday, as I had mentioned in a previous Rant, I only went to my local record shop to do any shopping that day.

I bought a couple of new and used records to add to my collection, and my money went the extra mile, because the store donated a percentage of whatever money it took in that day to charity, specifically some pet-related charities.

So bully for me, and double bully for the store, which is a very nice place to do shopping, whether on Record Store Day or any day.

Anyway, one of the records I bought was a classic single, with its picture sleeve, a song that I have loved since I first heard it on local WABC and WMCA Top-40 radio way back in early 1967.

The record is "Happy Together" by the Turtles, a record that spent three weeks at the No. 1 spot on the Billboard Hot 100 chart beginning in February of the year that spawned "The Summer of Love."

It is a bouncy little song, with kind of basic lyrics, about the love between two people, and back then, those two people were obviously a man and a woman.

Of course, it could have been the kind of love that is shared between two friends, siblings, parents and children ... you make it what you want to make it, I always thought it was between a man and a woman.

1967 was quite a year for music, and this record simply continued the Turtles' string of hits, which started with "It Ain't Me Babe" in 1965.

They were a West Coast band led by Howard Kaylan (nee Kaplan) and Mark Volman, which included a constantly changing cast of other bandmates. Kaylan and Volman have readily admitted that the band roster changed as their need for different recreational drugs changed, but the backbone of the band was Kaylan and Volman.

Their forte was "Sunshine Pop," or music that really had no underlying messages but made you feel good when you listened to it.

And "Happy Together" did just that.

Listening to it all these years later, you still get that "happy" vibe, and it is one of those songs that even if you can't sing, like me, you sing along anyway, because the song is so good and is so engrained in your memory.

I remember that in the 1980s, the Captain and Tennille had the nerve to cover this song, but they made it more of an angry song, and renamed it "Happy Together (A Fantasy)."

Their version completely lost the verve of the original, and happily, it only peaked in the middle ranges of the Hot 100. And we know what happened to the Captain and Tennille, so perhaps it was a forewarning of the storm clouds that were to be made public in their marriage 20 years later.

But back to the Turtles ... they were the epitome of Sunshine Pop, and they appeared on every variety show around at the time promoting this recording. And you had to smile when you saw them, because they seemed to be having so much fun doing so.

The song, and the Turtles, were infectious in a really good way. I mean, a band named the Turtles ... heck, turtles are so cute to begin with, and you just know that they were a great influence on what the producers wanted the Monkees to be.

But whatever the case, the Turtles went on to have quite a career, and when their flow of hits stopped, Mark Volman and Howard Kaylan moved on to Frank Zappa's Mothers of Invention, where they became the fabled "Fluorescent Leech and Eddie," better known as Flo and Eddie.

Fast forward to today, and Volman and Kaylan, or Flo and Eddie, headline the annual "Happy Together Tour," which has spotlighted the Turtles and other acts for the past few years, including the Cowsills and Buckinghams.

There were constant battles, legal and otherwise, for Kaylan and Volman to retain ownership of their recordings and the name of the "Turtles," and they have finally won out.

But even though it wasn't their first hit, "Happy Together" stands as their ultimate release. covered by many, including Dawn and the Nylons, but all inferior to the original release.

And more than 50 years after the fact, I finally got the single with its picture sleeve, so I am as "Happy Together" as I can be.

Classic Rant #685 (February 29, 2012): Goodbye Davy

This is a bonus rant for today, because as you probably know, something happened today that really tears into the hearts of baby boomers everywhere.

Davy Jones, once and forever a member of the Monkees, passed away today. He was 66.

You can find out lots about Jones just by surfing the web. His name has been trending for hours now, and there are hundreds of stories on him popping up on the Web by the hour.

So I am going to look at Jones from my perspective, and my perspective alone. You probably will see things in here that are from where you sit, too, but I am not going to give you that many facts, just some personal observations.

On that September Monday night in 1966, my sister and I turned on our old Dumont black and white TV, which was in our living room when we lived in Rochdale Village, Queens, New York.

It was 7:30 p.m., and a new show was debuting that looked pretty interesting to this nine year old's eyes.

Just a few years before, I had fallen in love with the Beatles. Not love like you are thinking, but I thought the Beatles were the coolest things ever.

They had started to get a little weird by 1966, and while I wasn't losing interest, I needed something new to enrapture me--and I found it on that September night.

My sister and I fell lock, stock and barrel for Peter, Micky, Mike and Davy, the Monkees! There was something fresh about this show that we really liked. It was like watching a live action cartoon, and with rock and roll music!

We were in heaven on earth here.

My mother ran out and bought their records for us, like "Last Train to Clarksville" and "I'm a Believer." The first record I ever bought with my own money was "A Little Bit Me, A Little Bit You," which I bought at the Kress store in Rochdale's first mall.

And Davy was the lead singer on that tune.

My sister covered her walls with Davy Jones pictures and posters. I preferred Mike Nesmith, but I really didn't mind Davy Jones at all.

He played the tambourine and sang in my favorite rock band!

But the problem was that the growing rock establishment looked upon the Monkees as a canard, a farce, a joke.

Sure, the foursome was talented, but they didn't have to work up the ladder to get to the top. They were cobbled together for a TV show, were given songs to sing, and heck, they didn't even play their own instruments early on!

But you know, I really didn't care. The Monkees were making music for my generation of kids, kids born from about 1955 to 1960. We were their target, and they hit the bull's eye.

And through it all, Davy Jones was probably the least respected of the bunch. Some said he couldn't sing, some said he didn't have any rock chops.

But they were wrong, oh how wrong they were.

Jones, a former child actor in England, was musical, but from a different standpoint. His learning ground was the stage. He won a Tony for his performance as the Artful Dodger in "Oliver," and his stage persona set the stage, literally, for many performers that followed, with theatrics that in 1966 weren't understood enough to be appreciated.

But from David Bowie (nee Jones--he changed his name to avoid confusion with the Monkee), and even Madonna and Lady Gaga, well, they got it. The theatrics you see at many rock concerts today started with Davy and the Monkees, who burst out of giant speakers when they entered the stage in those days.

He was basically a stage actor who morphed into a rock and roller, and he did it flawlessly. There haven't been very many actors who have been able to do this, but Jones did it, and did it well.

And when the Monkees were no more, Jones continued working, doing much stage work, mainly in England. He later even played Fagin in Oliver, believe it or not.

For me, I searched out his records in the 1970s and 1980s, and put my ear to the grindstone to find out any information abou him that I could.

Then 1986 and MTV happened, and the Monkees--less Mike Nesmith--were as hot as a pistol. And Jones and Micky and Peter were relevant again.

But for me, they never really became irrelevant.

Over the years, through Monkees reunions and solo shows, I always followed Jones' career. He was never really out of my sight ever, and I do mean that sincerely. Whenever I could find out information on him, I ate up that information rapidly.

And his influence is felt to this day. Don't tell me Justin Bieber hasn't learned something from Jones. Whatever you think of today's number one teenybopper star, there is a definite link between him and Jones.

And while there were teen idols before Jones, Jones became the archetype for the modern teen idol. Every teen idol that followed him picked up something from him and from the Monkees, and that means from David Cassidy to Bobby Sherman to the Bay City Rollers to the Backstreet Boys, and yes, to Bieber too.

I last saw Jones perform as part of the Monkees reunion tour last summer. He was effervescent as he always was, and I speak from experience--I've seen him dozens of times.

One of the most memorable was in the 1990s, when he was performing as part of the umpteenth Monkees reunion. I saw him at Westbury Music Fair in Westbury, Long Island.

He was performing with his mates on that legendary revolving stage that Westbury has, and for some reason, he lost his footing, fell off the stage, and fell on his arm. He got up as if nothing happened, went back on the stage, and completed the show without a hitch.

We found out later that he had broken his arm, was in a lot of pain, but, you know, "The Show Must Go On."

Back to last summer ... for the first time in their on again, off again history, the Monkees were getting terrific reviews for their reunion shows. And Davy was really into these shows, prancing around as if he were a man a third of his age.

He seemed to be having a better time than the even the audience was having!

So Davy, rest in peace. When I heard you passed, it was like a relative had left me.

I have always been a fan, and always will be a fan.

And yes, I am still a "Daydream Believer," and will be one forever.

Thanks, Davy.

Rant #2,031: Royal Mile

I usually could care less about the British royals.

We could have had a king over here too, you know, but George Washington wanted to be called "President," and that is how it has gone in our country for the past 200-plus years.

But the recent announcement of the engagement of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle pricked up my ears a bit.

The reason: Markle is not your proper, every day royal.

She is so outside the box, in so many ways, that you have to consider it somewhat incredible that she and Harry have gotten a royal blessing for their union.

But then again, they are so far away from the throne that it really doesn't matter much.

Now, if his brother had done this, then it would probably have been so different, with a different reaction.

Anyway, what is so special about Meghan Markle?

Well, to begin with, she is a complete and total outsider to the royalty, without any familial connection at all to the royal family.

This is highly unusual, since most of the royals marry very distant cousins. Remember, Charles and Diana were actually very distant cousins when they wed, for example.

Markle is American, which makes her union with Harry something special in and of itself.

She is an actress, with a number of credits under her belt, including a featured role on the USA Network show "Suits."

One has to wonder if she will give up acting when she marries. Royal wives are supposed to be just that, and little more, when they marry, but will Markle go up a different road?

She is also a divorcee, another unique facet about her.

There is a rumor, so far unfounded, that she may have converted to Judaism before she was married the first time. Her then-future husband was Jewish, and apparently, the two had a proper Jewish wedding, so as to suggest that she converted sometime prior to the nuptials.

I have read some stories denying this, others saying it is true, but whatever the case, she apparently entered into a Jewish union during her first marriage, which doesn't necessarily mean she converted, but on the other hand, doesn't necessarily mean that she didn't.

And, she is of mixed parentage.

Her mom was black, her father was white, and although this has happened to the royal monarchy before, it has not happened in a number of years, so as to make her unique among the British royals for the past 100 years or so.

Again, I think if the two were further up the line of succession, all of this would mean more than it actually does in the current situation, but it makes for an interesting round of water cooler babble, doesn't it?

Again, I usually don't get into the royal thing. I cannot stand the constant, never ending examination of Princess Diana, and I could care less about the other royals, but Markle's case is a bit interesting, and yes, it kind of intrigues me a bit.

This marriage bears watching, and I hope that they can make it, and her background does not become, well, a royal pain.

Classic Rant #684 (February 29, 2012): Three Into One

Today is the anniversary of three separate events that when added together, equal up to one thing.

First, today is the 72nd anniversary of the film "Gone With the Wind" winning eight Academy Awards, including best picture of 1939. Most importantly, actress Hattie McDaniel won an Oscar for best supporting actress, the first black performer to win an Academy Award.

Second, today is the 52nd anniversary of the opening of the first Playboy Club. The Chicago club featured waitresses wearing scanty bunny outfits.

Third, today is the 44th anniversary of the release of the Kerner Commission report, which warned that racism was causing America to move "toward two societies, one black, one white — separate and unequal."

Sure, the first and third entries for today are kind of intertwined, but all three actually are.

They all signaled social change in America.

America went through a Victorian period that still has its fallout today. People were set in their ways, and nothing was going to change them. And that included thoughts about people of other races, other religions, and other nationalities.

But certain events did change them and America, and these three events, in their own way, helped to change America and loosen up those values we had.

Hattie McDaniel's win really can't be fully understood even today, even so many years after the fact. Sure, her portrayal of a mammy was a stereotype, but for a black woman to win such an award at that time of our history must have been incredible.

It was so incredible, in fact, that you can count the number of blacks on one hand who have won acting Oscars since.

The second event people may scoff at, but Playboy helped to loosen our morales a bit, made us think a bit outside the box on certain things.

Playboy has been a game changer for generations, and whatever you think of Hugh Hefner, you have to give him credit for hitting a bull's eye with his magazine and the ancillary items, like the Playboy Club, that he started as a result of the magazine's success.

The third one is probably the most critical. Yes, there was racism in the world then, and there is racism in the world now. Nobody is going to dispute that.

In fact, there's lots of "isms" that are still practiced today that are pretty deplorable.

But I really think that things have loosened up a bit. People are generally more accepting of one another than they were back then. We have a President who is a man of color, so things are much, much different than they were back in 1968.

I don't think we are as separate as we were back then.

So the three events, which aren't really directly related, are kind of related.

They all signal change, and you can bet that years from now, their significance will still be looked at and dissected by future generations.

Or at least they should be.

(And happy February 29. It happens just once every four years, so have a good Sadie Hawkins Day. And happy birthday to those who celebrate their birthdays once every four years--you guys are really younger than you actually are!)

Rant #2,030: Many Rivers To Cross

Well, I welcome myself back here, and I welcome you back to the Ranting and Raving Blog after a well-earned couple of days off for not just me, but for you too.

My family and I had a decent Thanksgiving, and even my pre-ordered turkey held up pretty well.

No, it was not as good as a freshly cooked bird, but it was good enough, and it fit the need that we had this year.

Otherwise, there is nothing like having four consecutive days off from the drudgery of work, and that goes for whether you are in a good situation or a really bad one, like I am in.

During the four days, I personally did what I had to do to basically relax and recharge my batteries for the next five weeks of 2017 and hopefully into the early days of 2018.

My family and I didn't do anything too spectacular during these past four days, but at least we did it on our own time, and we didn't have to fit it into a workday.

After a nice Thanksgiving, Black Friday descended on us, and I did what I always do on Black Friday, or at least what I have done on Black Friday for the past few years: go to my local record store on Record Store Day and collect a couple of more goodies for my collection.

I bought both new records and old ones, and since my record store donates a percentage of the money they make that day to charity, it worked out nice all around.

And then I went home. No more shopping for me on the year's day of all shopping days.

On Saturday and Sunday, I personally didn't do much of anything, to be honest with you.

My wife and I did buy some holiday gifts, but we aren't spending like we have in the past, so we didn't get much.

Other than that, I watched several movies on TV.

We had thought that we might go to the movies--the real, honest to goodness movies--on Saturday, but we decided that nothing in the movies really thrilled us, so we stayed home.

But I have to tell you, with Chromecast attached to the bedroom TV, and with the mix of YouTube and Netflix movies, we had plenty to watch over the weekend as others shopped until they dropped.

We basically watched until we conked out.

I personally watched about four or five films. One had nothing to do with either YouTube or Netflix; it was being broadcast during the endless pledges that our local PBS station runs, and no, sorry, I did not pledge, but I watched.

I watched Ron Howard's film on the early and middle days of the Beatles, "Eight Days a Week," on Saturday night. It was a good movie, using archival and never-before-seen personal fan footage of the Fab Four pretty much before "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band."

This is my favorite period of the Beatles experience, so I was captivated by the film. It didn't teach me anything I didn't know about them, but it was a fun watch.

But back to Netflix ...

My wife and I watched a few films, including "Bushwick," starring Dave Bautista, the former wrestler, about the Brooklyn neighborhood, one which is the setting for America's new Civil War.

It was an interesting premise, but I don't think the movie was really that good, but it did kill a good 90 minutes or so.

Yesterday, we watched "JeruZalem," and yes, the "Z" is capitalized for "zombies."

This was an interesting Israeli film about an invasion of aliens that hits Jerusalem while two young, pretty Americans are on vacation there. Most of the film was taken from the perspective of the brunette, who was wearing Google Glasses and was seeing the city, and what was going on there, on something of a computer basis.

At first, it was kind of annoying, but after a while, the perspective given by the girl and her glasses added something new to an already overdone topic.

And no, the invaders weren't really zombies--they were some other alien species--but getting to see the holy city from a different, arresting perspective made the film one that I am glad that we watched.

On YouTube, I watched a variety of completely bizarre films, staring with "Love Letters of a Portuguese Nun," an early 1970s exploitation flick if there ever was one.

It is what I think is either the 1700s or early 1800s in a small village in Portugal, one where the church rules and every incident that goes against church teaching is marked by penalties to those who participate.

A young, very pretty girl is caught being chased by her boyfriend through the woods, and she is caught by a priest, who forces her mother to give her up for a life in the nunnery.

However, this nunnery does not worship Christ, it worships Satan, and every debauchery you can imagine happens there to this woman and the other nuns.

I won't give the rest of the film away, but yes, this is "nunsploitation" at its most brutal, and you almost stick with the film to see what happens next to this young girl.

No, this isn't "The Flying Nun" by any stretch of the imagination.

Another film I watched was "Top Sensation," another late 1960s-early 1970s exploitation film that also hits all the stops for debauchery, but in a more modern setting.

A rich woman with a yacht has a son who has problems of his own. His mother is worried about his, let's say, social development, so she hires a swinging husband and wife and a prostitute to help turn him around.

In return, she might invest in the husband and wife's dreams, and as for the prostitute, well, she will be well paid for her endeavor.

Things do go awry on the mother's plan, as the group meets and picks up a husband and wife on an island, a duo who is somewhat repressed and ends up looking for a good time, too. Their good time leads to murder, and no, the son is never cured of whatever problems he has.

This Italian film is partially dubbed into English, features a number of fairly explicit scenes for the time period it was made in, and supposedly from what I read, there is another version of the film that borders on an X rating, but the cut that I saw was definitely a hard R rated film.

The movie kept my interest, one of those movies that is so bad that it is good, much like the other film I described here.

Both films were perfect for a lazy Thanksgiving weekend.

So that is that.

This week, we have my father's 86th birthday to look forward to, but otherwise, it's back to the same old, same old ... you can't be off from work forever, you know.

And no, Cyber Monday does not thrill me as it does others.

Onward and upward, with my wallet intact.

Classic Rant #683 (February 28, 2012): From Nothing To Something

Gavin MacLeod has had a very interesting career, and today, on his 81st birthday, he can reflect on the fact that he is one of the few actors who appeared in a regular role in not one, not two, but in three classic TV shows.

MacLeod had acted in several movies and TV shows before his role as Happy Haines on "McHale's Navy," but he began to make his name as one of McHale's (Ernest Borgnine) henchman on the classic Navy comedy of the early 1960s. He often was in the background on the show, perhaps having one or two lines of dialogue on each episode. But he was there.

But it did not foresee what was to come next.

As Murray Slaughter on "The Mary Tyler Moore Show," he solidified his place on television as one of the most popular characters on that show. Moving on up from his previous TV role, McLeod had many lines on this early 1970s show, as the news writer in the newsroom, writing copy that Ted Knight's talking head character would inevitably bumble and fumble. And he sat next to Mary, so his on-screen time was at a maximum on this show.

But again, even this role did not foresee what was to come next.

As Captain Merrill Stubing on "The Love Boat," MacLeod cemented himself as one of television's most popular and prolific actors. He led the cast of this popular 1980s-1990s series, which featured has-been and third-rate actors and actresses picking up a paycheck with performances from hell. But the public loved this series, it did wonders for the cruise industry, and MacLeod became the cruise ship captain to which every cruise ship captain must be compared.

Sure, MacLeod has done many other things in show business, but he will forever be identified with these three roles.

Most actors are lucky if they get one prime TV role; MacLeod has had three!

Can you name another actor who was a regular character in three classic television shows?

I don't think you can.

MacLeod is in a unique group, where he might just be the only member.

Rant #2,029: Birds of a Feather

Let me just start off by telling you that yesterday's Rant about the state of my employment received more looks than Monday's Rant about Charles Manson.

There is justice in the world, I guess.

And yes, we mourn the passing of David Cassidy. He was a tremendous talent, saddled with the Partridge Family monicker. Like most teen idols, he tried desperately to break out of that mold, but was only partially successful, because he was, and will always be, Keith Partridge.

He now joins the likes of other teen idols--like his predecessor, Davy Jones--in Rock and Roll Heaven, and like the song says, they've got a "hell of a band" up there now.

Anyway, today is the day before Thanksgiving, and as I have said many, many times, I actually have plenty to be thankful for.

I have a great family and I am in good health, so yes, I really do have plenty to be thankful for.

I can't wait to get together with my family, have the festive meal, and take it easy for a few days.

That does not include shopping, and I think I said it all pretty well in Rant #1,330, dated November 25, 2014.

Here is part of that Rant, in edited form.

"Thanksgiving is supposed to be a family holiday, a time when we get together with our loved ones and talk, have a nice meal, and take it easy.

It is the best of all holidays, because no gifts are warranted, just your presence at the festive meal.

However, a new wrinkle has been thrown into the mix in recent years: shopping on the holiday.

I, personally, would never do gift buying on the holiday.

But evidently, many people love to shop on the holiday, so many major retailers are staying open on Thanksgiving, or at least on part of the holiday, so those who want to shop can do just that.

Many other people are in an uproar over this--how dare retailers ruin the sanctity of the holiday!

How dare people shop on the holiday?

But let me ask you, have you shopped on the holiday?

Maybe not for a large-screen TV, but I am willing to bet you have spent at least a little money on Thanksgivings past.

I will bet you went out to get some extra cranberry sauce at your local supermarket, or filled up with a tank of gas if you were traveling.

You might have even gone to your local bakery to pick up a nice, freshly made pie for the occasion.

We crab and worry about retailers' workers losing their holiday by working on it, but what about the people who work in the bakeries, the gas stations, the supermarkets? What about their holiday? Isn't that sacred, too?

And what about all the restaurants that are open on the holiday? Their employees have to work, too.

So let's get past this sanctity nonsense.

It is called "supply and demand."

Stores are open because customers demand it.

If there were no customers, big retail stores would not be open.

And further, if you order online--as many closed retailers are suggesting you do--what about those fulfillment workers taking your orders? What about their holiday?

So this belching and moaning about stores being open on Thanksgiving is a load of PC garbage.

Think about that when you run to the supermarket on that holiday Thursday morning because you ran out of stuffing.

Think about that cashier who has given up at least part of his or her day to serve you.

YOU are the reason that cashier is on duty.

Don't blame the retailers, who are open to satisfy your every shopping whim, whether it is for stuffing or for a large-screen TV.

Me, I won't be shopping at all, and don't get me started on Black Friday ... ."

And I still believe all of that. WE are the reason that retailers open on the holiday.

On Black Friday, I do shopping at one, and only one, venue--my local record store.

It is a special day for record stores, and some of the money I will pay that day will go to a charity chosen by the record store I go to--usually a local venue for adoptable pets--and I have no problem at all with their choice of charity.

I will do what I want to do at the record store, and then leave. 

This year for the holidays, I won't be purchasing as many gifts as usual, anyway, because my wife and I have decided that we wanted to cut down on this stuff this time around.

We won't be exactly frugal, but we are going to watch our pennies.

So while everyone will be jumping over others to get the greatest deals of a lifetime on Black Friday, I will be listening to some new records that I purchased, and I will be listening and relaxing, at home.

I guess I will miss all the pomp of Black Friday, but you know what?

Who cares!

Have a great holiday, and I will speak to you again on Monday.

Classic Rant #682 (February 27, 2012): Oscar Who?

It's really amazing that so many people watch a show each year that celebrates films that nobody remembers soon after.

Yes, that is a terrible sentence, but it's true: does anybody remember Oscar-nominated films even a month after the show ends?

Movies today, with few exception, are garbage. Nobody remembers them because they simply aren't memorable, feature lousy performances that are often touted as being the work of genius, and heck, it costs so much to go to the movies that most people just stay home.

I personally saw very few of the nominated films, so I really shouldn't talk about them. But why should I spend my good money on films that simply don't interest me at all?

I have seen movies in my life that move me and stay with me, but most of those films were made years and years ago, when filmmaking was more of an art form than it is today. Today, most movies seem to be made for eventual home video consumption, not really for a real movie. Sure, you can see these films in the theater, but they become everlasting as videos you can see at home.

And do you really think that "The Artist" will be remembered a year from now, five years from now, 10 years from now?

I doubt it.

Sure, my likes are more toward comedies and musicals of days gone by, and no, I don't consider "Bridesmaids" worthy of any mention at all. I did see that movie--on home video--and that movie epitomized the trash that is out today. I don't care how many nominations it received, that movie was Garbage with a capital G.

I have seen movies in the past that I didn't mind spending money on. They were insightful, funny, and/or grabbed me in a certain way and wouldn't let go--and still haven't let go.

It would be hard for me to name my all-time favorite movies, but I am going to try. I am not saying that they were all "art," but they did something to me as I watched them that made a major impression on me, and years later, still has a hold on me.

"Favorites" are a subjective thing. My favorites may not be your favorites, and vice versa.

Here is my list, and you will see, there a very, very few Oscar winners on this list.

Each is on the list because they absolutely cry out for repeated viewings.

And each is connected, because each of them did not take a safe route. These films all took chances, and in my book, their chance-taking paid off via a successful film.

10) "Guess Who's Coming to Dinner": A perfect movie about an imperfect subject. It is done in such a way that it never hits you over the head with its message.

9) "To Sir With Love": Sidney Poitier is one of our greatest actors, and in this movie, he absolutely shines as a teacher in a school educating kids on the wrong side of the tracks. I guarantee that his performance made many viewers think about teaching as a profession.

8) "Bye Bye Birdie": When you see Ann-Margret in that last sequence, that is an image that stays with you for the rest of your life. Great soundtrack, great cast, great music, what else can you ask for in a film?

7) "A Hard Day's Night": A similar review to the previous one. The Beatles' first full-length movie set the tone for all musicals to follow it. And a lot of great humor mixed in with the Fab Four's music.

6) "Psycho": Certainly one of the greatest thrillers ever made. Everything is perfect in this film, except for the crime. Hitchcock at his very, very best.

5) "Buck Privates": People scoffed at Abbott and Costello films in the 1940s, looking at them as the equivalent of movie candy. But this film is so well done, that you can't really scoff that much. And the humor holds up 70 years later.

4) "Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein": Quite frankly, this is one of the funniest films ever made. A clever idea turned inside out, and it is as funny as any movie that has been made before or since.

3) "The Wizard of Oz": Without the doubt, the greatest fantasy film ever made. Again, everything is perfect in this film, from the story to the casting to the music. A film that I loved as a kid and love equally as an adult. Maybe the greatest movie ever made.

2) "Head": I have pontificated about this Monkees' movie many times. It takes "A Hard Day's Night" and turns it inside out. I love this movie, because every time I watch it, I see something that I had never seen before.

1) "It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World": Was there ever a greater amalgam of comedians and comic actors in one film? Sure, it's long, but it needs to be to fit everything in. And in one of his greatest performances, Spencer Tracy steals the show from all the comics while he steals the loot. I can come into this film at any one of its moments and fall in line immediately. What a movie!

So there you have it. I would give every film here a "Larry" for making me love the potential of movies even more. Not a piece of trash among any of them as far as I am concerned.

I love them all!

Rant #2,028: Turn Down Year

This week is a one-year anniversary week of stuff that I really don't want to think about, but ultimately, I have to at least ponder.

On Thursday, November 23, 2016, there were many changes at my place of work being instituted, which began a week earlier, when two long-standing members of our staff were let go, after a combined 50 years or more of service to the company.

For those who were left, including myself, we relocated from one building to another, a year ago this week on November 23.

And we had absolutely no help; we had to do it ourselves. And for me, with more than 20 years under my belt at the time, it was a very difficult move, both physically and literally.

But it was not as difficult as realizing that our world was crumbling before us. Our 401K plan was canceled, and pretty much any type of enthusiasm for this job also came to an abrupt halt.

It has been exactly one year, as of tomorrow, November 22, that I have set my sights on trying to find another job, because where I am working now is going to hell, or perhaps is already there.

In the one year I have been looking for another job, these are the results:

Three over-the-phone interviews;

One interview where there was miscommunication, and I was interviewed for a part-time job;

One face-to-face interview.

Nothing else.

I also had two other potential interviews crap out on me, trying to justify what they did and put it on my head. They lied, period.

I had another where I was told to call after 5:30 p.m., did from my car, and the people I spoke with had no idea what I was talking about. Even though I could not visually see them, they were lying through their teeth.

And I must have applied for probably well more than 250 jobs during the past year, and I have absolutely nothing to show for it.

Nothing.

I have applied for jobs in my realm of business, I have applied for jobs that are just outside of that box, and I have applied for jobs that are way outside that box.

Nothing has come up.

It is quite frustrating. I know I work in a dead field--print media--and I cover an area that no one knows about--military resale, or military stores if you will--for a trade publication, not a mass media publication.

The move is to digital. If you have no contacts in print, you are dead.

You are also dead if you are my age. No one is going to hire a 60 year old in most fields, and certainly not in a field that is moving toward a millennial reading base.

It has been darn frustrating, and yes, I do believe my place is in hell right at this point.

I don't understand how it has kept on going for this long, probably on a very thin shoestring.

This year, we lost two employees--our salesman, who took a better job somewhere else; and to show you how bad it is at work, the other person we lost as a result of suicide. He feared looking for a new job at this point in his life. He was in his late 40s.

I look around me, and the place is as dead as a doornail. There is little enthusiasm for anything, and there are long stretches where there is little to do.

Nothing gets a pat on the back, "you did a good job" is never uttered, and the walls are coming down on us, we just don't know when.

In fact, our direct competitor--the only similar trade magazine covering this field of endeavor--just folded. They went out of business because the ad revenue is not there anymore; and it isn't coming to us either. It will now be directed to other areas by those who advertised in that other publication.

So right now, we--and I mean, it is now about a dozen of us, down from near 40 or so during my earlier time here--are all in a holding pattern.

There was a rumor that the last pure salesman we have put in his resignation, but if that is true, it has not kicked in yet. Perhaps at the end of the calendar year.

We fight windmills in this place, and like Don Quixote, we often don't get anywhere by doing so.

We take our time doing our books, we waste time squabbling over nonsensical clauses, words and phrases, and when someone says something about it, people show paranoia like I have never seen in the workplace in my nearly 22 years employed here, or my years employed anywhere else.

But what can I do?

I figure I will milk this long as long as I can, and when the walls do come down, or at least, the walls come down on me, I will have to continue to do what I do each and every morning, and that is search the job sites for something to grab on to.

I haven't stopped, and although, with the year I have had, I have contemplated it, I simply cannot stop looking for a job.

I generally do it after I write this column, but in slow moments, I have also done it at work ... and let me tell you, I have seen others do it at work, too, so it isn't just me.

Look, I am 60, I won't be 61 until the end of April, and I cannot contemplate this place remaining open until I turn 67, when I can supposedly get my full Social Security benefits.

And 67 is not an end for me; I would love to work beyond that.

But something tells me that the road will continue to be very bumpy if I make it that long.

Next year, my wife and I are going to celebrate our 25th wedding anniversary. We have scheduled a cruise for the late summer/early fall, and I have said time and time again that I very well might be taking this cruise as an unemployed person.

I hope that isn't so, of course, but I am prepared for it.

So as I go into Thanksgiving, I have lots to be thankful for: a great family, good health, and a sense of humor that keeps me going, whether others happen to think that I am funny or not.

I can laugh at life's foibles more than most people can, and that has sustained me through bad periods as well as good periods.

It is a bad period now, yet as we move into the holiday season, I am very hopeful that things can and will change for me, and for the better.

I have to think this way; if I don't think this way, I am cooked, period.

It is not a great way to go into the holiday season, but what else can I do?

I have now beaten this dead horse to a pulp, but I ask you to bear with me during this bad time.

Like the old song by Howard Jones said, "Things Can Only Get Better."

Yup.

Classic Rant #680 (February 23, 2012): Comics Unleashed

I have documented here the fact that I was a comic book collector as a child, voraciously collecting, reading and cataloging my comic book collection as if it was gold.

I still have that collection, although I don't collect anymore, and the collection spans from the late 1950s to the mid 1970s.

But I guess you have to be lucky, which I am not. My collection probably isn't even worth $10,000, but another collector's collection was worth millions.

Michael Rorrer, who discovered his late great uncle Billy Wright's collection last year while cleaning out his great aunt's home in Martinsville, Va., hit the motherlode of comic books.

He hit what amounted to a $3.5 million lottery win.

The bulk of his great uncle's collection was filled with some of the most prized comic books on the planet, including the first appearances of Superman and Batman. In total, 44 of the Overstreet Comic Book Price Guide's top 100 issues from comic book's Golden Age--the late 1930s through the war years--were in this collection, and they were sold at auction yesterday.

Among the prized comic books in this collection were Detective Comics No. 27, featuring Batman's debut, which went for $523,000; and Action Comics No. 1, featuring Superman's first appearance, which went for $299,000. And there were many others.

Heck, one comic book in this collection went for much, much more than the 2,000 comic books in my collection would probably go for collectively!

It's not fair, it's just not fair.

I collected those comic with a passion that I haven't had for too many things in my life.

I kept my comics in basically good shape, and they've been stored away in a closet in my parents' house for more than 40 years.

But they aren't worth that much, I have found out.

But if you have a spare $10,000, I can give you a great starter collection of comics from the 1950s, 1960s and 1970s.

It will be more than worth it.

So come on, somebody must be interested.

Well, I guess not, but they are for sale, and I hope one day that something spurs someone on to buy these comic books from me.

It was my childhood, and really, you can't put a price on those years.

Rant #2,027: The End

The demon is dead.

Charles Manson, the very symbol of the evil side of the flower power 1960s, has died.

He was 83, and died in prison, where he has spent nearly 50 years withering away, explaining his actions to anyone that would listen to him, and even getting married while incarcerated.

Manson was supposedly a failed musician who even with his lack of ability, somehow worked his way into the pop and rock scene in Los Angeles in the mid to late 1960s, hobnobbing with the musical elite while still being on the outside of it all.

He complained that Brian Wilson of the Beach Boys stole his music and made it their own, and he supposedly snapped, deciding to exorcise his demons by murder--not by his own hand, but by the hands of his followers.

Through persuasion, bending of the lifestyle, and a heap of drugs, he formed a group of followers to do his bidding, and his ultimate bidding was the murder of several young people in a house where top rock producer Terry Melcher (the son of Doris Day) was renting along with Mark Lindsay, lead singer of Paul Revere and the Raiders.

The place was sublet at the time, and others were staying there when Manson and his Family did their dirty deed. Several people were killed over a two-day span, including pregnant actress Sharon Tate, and later, he and the heinous acts of his cult of young drifters were memorialized, for better or worse, in the book "Helter Skelter" by prosecutor Vincent Bugliosi.

The book was named after a Beatles song that Manson was supposedly obsessed with.

Again, Manson did not directly murder anyone. However, his directions to his fellow doped up "Family" to do his bidding made him accessories to all the murders, and made him the very essence of evil during that period.

If Woodstock was the high point of the late 1960s scene, then certainly the Manson murders were the low point.

During the past nearly 50 or so years, he has become the very essence of evil to the public, carving a swastika into his forehead, spouting venom to anyone who would listen, and laughing all the way back to his jail cell while doing all of this.

Really, the less said about his sordid life the better, but the thought came to me: what happens now in death?

He had no next of kin, although he was supposedly married while in jail a few years back. I don't know what happened with that marriage, perhaps it was annulled, but the fact of the matter is that I don't believe he had any next of kin.

What to do with the body? I would think that if it is not claimed--and why would anyone claim it--the authorities can either bury it or cremate it.

Manson must have had some belongings, so what happens with those?

That being said, if there is any money involved in selling whatever belongings he had, whatever is gained should be put into something good, programs to help someone.

I think that that would be a fitting end to his life, that even a life like he had could end up doing something good in death.

That's if anyone actually wanted whatever his few belongings were.

Manson lived a troubled life from almost the get-go. He was born as the child of an unwed mother, and reports are his mother was actually a prostitute.

He was in trouble almost from the moment he could speak and stand on his own two feet, and once, while a teenager, he was incarcerated for a petty crime, and during probably one of the few lucent moments in his life, he told the presiding judge that he did not want to be freed from jail, because "Jail is the place I call home."

I paraphrased what he said, but heck, it ended up that he was spot on.

Jail was the only place he felt comfortable in, and he lived most of his life incarcerated for one thing or another.

As for his Family, all of them, I believe, are still incarcerated or died in prison.

Just to sum everything up, Manson was the pure personification of evil, and his existence demonstrated that the 1960s were not all flowers and blowing bubbles into the wind.

Maybe he lived so long to remind us of all that.

Classic Rant #681 (February 24, 2012): Pay To Play

When you watch TV today, just think back to the time when you didn't have to pay for it.

In the New York area, we had channels 2, 4, 5, 7, 9, 11 and 13, and that was just about it.

Occasionally, we would be able to get Connecticut stations, like channels 3 and 8, but most of the time, we had just these seven channels, and we had to use rabbit ears to get the best reception we could, which usually wasn't very good.

I remember that my friend got a new TV with UHF, meaning he had a TV that could get the upper span of channels beyond 13. We used to watch "Lucha Libre" every Friday night on Channel 41, a Spanish-language channel.

The reception was terrible, but if you turned off the lights, you could see it pretty well--in black and white, of course.

In 1973, my family was one of the first to have cable TV in our area. During those years, cable TV was basically showing movies over and over and over, but it was incredible that we could watch this at home on our TVs.

And the clarity of the broadcast was incredible. Those rabbit ears never could really bring in the image that clearly, but with cable, you got everything picture perfect.

Fast forward to the current time, and the choices are truly endless. We now have satellite TV and phone company TV in our home, and we have so many channels that we don't know what to do with them ...

Except, of course, to pay the bill each and every month.

And it all started back on this date in 1961.

That's when the Federal Communications Commission authorized the nation's first full-scale trial of pay television, in Hartford, Conn. There were earlier trials even in the 1940s, but this was the first one that was okayed by the then burgeoning FCC.

I remember seeing pictures of some of the early pay TVs, probably in TV Guide.

They literally had slots on the side of them where you put your money, probably quarters, into the TV and then it would start up.

I don't know if the first trial was on this level, but let's face it, pay-TV has revolutionized entertainment and what we can do in our own homes.

We can watch un-cut films in the comfort of our living rooms, so we don't have to go to the theater to do that anymore.

We can watch sporting events as they happen, and while this was originally on free-TV, the spectrum of sporting events--everything from the major sporting events to things like Mixed Martial Arts and the X-Games--were almost designed with the home viewer in mind.

And yes, we can watch adult movies without having to go out to a sleazy theater, if that is what we want to do.

We decry the prices for this luxury, but again, it is a luxury, so we have to pay for it.

Not with coins like in the early pay-TV model I talked about a few lines up, but with dollars, real dollars, and a lot of them, too.

But at least we have a broader choice now. Sure, I don't think watching something like "Bridezillas" is a real choice, but at least you can watch that if you want to ... or shut the TV off entirely.

I don't think that those behind that first pay-TV experiment in Hartford could envision TV today, what with its cable, satellite and phone company offerings.

But that experiment set the tone for many other such "pay-xx" experiments to come.

I mean, who thought we would pay for something like ...

Water?

Rant #2,026: Nothing From Nothing

Let's talk about nothing today.

That's right, nothing.

What is happening in the wide world that we live in that is worth talking about?

Well, we have those basketball players, those supposed academic students who acted academically deficient when they misbehaved in China, but I have already spoken about that.

How about the latest sexual hijinks of our favorite entertainers and politicians?

This whole shebang has gotten to be ridiculous, women finally remembering that they were groped, spun around, talked about cheaply, looked at funny, or were actually sexually assaulted years and years ago.

It's Bill Cosby all over again, and half the stuff I don't believe for a minute. The other half, well, once again, where were these women when these sordid events actually happened? Why did they not report these indiscretions right then, and not years later?

I guess they didn't think they were so sordid until now.

And no, I have no skeletons in my closet related to either of these two stories.

I never shoplifted anything, and I never groped or sexually assaulted any woman in my life.

I will tell you a story about my supposed shoplifting episode.

Way, way back, it must have been about 1969 or so, I went to my local card shop in the mall in our community, Rochdale Village, South Jamaica, Queens.

I had been going there since the first day it opened to buy my monthly ration of comic books and bubblegum cards, so I was very well known by the proprietor of the establishment.

One day, I walked into the card shop looking for the latest issue of Superman or Batman or Justice League or Daredevil or Spider-Man or whatever it was.

As I was wont to do, right after I found the comics that I wanted to buy, I would wander to other sections of the store to see what they had available. I often bought magazines there, too, and sometimes other things, like board games and books.

This day, I wandered to the back of the store, where they had small toys stocked, pretty much out in the open.

I looked at some things, and then, didn't find anything I wanted to buy, and proceeded up to the counter to pay for my comic books.

But before I could get there, the proprietor grabbed my arm.

"I saw you grab stuff and put it in your pocket!" he yelled at me.

"You're making a mistake. I never did that!" I yelled back.

Well, he made me clean out my pockets, of both my pants and my jacket.

He, of course, found nothing.

"Hmmphf!" came out of his mouth.

"How could you accuse me of this?" I said. "I am in here all the time. You know me," I said.

I went to the counter, paid for my comics, and that was that.

No apology. No nothing.

If I remember correctly, other people I knew also got nabbed at the same time for supposedly stealing stuff from the store, so I guess they had had some shoplifting episodes at the store, and anyone around a certain age was suspect.

But no, I never took anything from that store, not even a piece of penny bubblegum ... and I continued to go to that store for my comic books and bubblegum cards.

And I never shoplifted anything from anywhere.

So that is my supposed "shoplifting" story, something that I was accused of, but never happened.

So yes, I spoke about nothing today, because I never shoplifted, never groped any women ... it's just not my style.

So when you are with me, you have no reason to think anything like these things are going to happen.

Unfortunately, we have found that some people in this world cannot make the same declaration, and that is truly sad.

Have a good weekend, and I will speak to you again on Monday.

Classic Rant #679 (February 22, 2012): Superman

With all this talk about the New York Knicks' Jeremy Lin, the greatest basketball player I ever saw once played right here on Long Island.

Julius Erving turns 62 today, and it seems like eons ago that he did his thing as a member of the American Basketball Association's (ABA) New York Nets right here in my own backyard.

The ABA was a fledgling league, trying to compete against the behemoth National Basketball Association (NBA).

The only way I can put it into contemporary terms is the Total Non-Stop Action (TNA, now Impact) wrestling group competing against World Wrestling Entertainment (WWE).

They exist, but certainly aren't equal.

The same could be said about the ABA vs. the NBA.

The ABA sought to bring high-quality, professional basketball to areas the were under-served by the NBA, basketball hotbeds like Indiana, Kentucky and Florida. They had a red, white and blue basketball, and featured a three-point line.

But they need a New York-area team to solidify the league, and the New York Nets--nee the Americans, out of New Jersey--was that team.

They played in the brand-spanking new Nassau Veterans Memorial Coliseum--at that time considered a state of the art arena--and they had the league's marquee player, Long Island's own Julius Erving, from Roosevelt, who the league forced the Virginia Squires to basically give to the Nets to make the league stronger.

Julius Erving was a forward who did things that no other player at the time could do. With his major afro sprouting out of his head and giving punctuation to everything he did, Erving flew threw the air like a black Superman.

His dunks started at the foul line and his other moves were a combination of Oscar Robertson, Bob Cousy and certainly Houdini.

Frankly, even in this second-class league, he was the most exciting basketball player on the planet in the early 1970s. There wasn't even anyone near him, and the NBA knew it.

The Nets won the final ABA championship, and I was there for every home game in their run. It was a great run, and the Nets were a great team.

After that 1975-1976 season, the two leagues merged, with a couple of teams from the ABA absorbed by the NBA. It looked real good for the ABA champion Nets to compete equally against the rival New York Knicks.

But the ownership of the Nets found they could not afford Erving and pay the NBA the millions that it owed them to get into the league, and Erving was basically handed over to the Philadelphia 76ers.

Erving had a stellar career with the 76ers, and is a member of the Basketball Hall of Fame.

The Nets moved to New Jersey, had a few good seasons, but have been second class to the Knicks in the New York metropolitan area. Even in their good years, the Nets found that the Knicks owned this territory, and they will probably find out the same thing when the Nets move to Brooklyn next season.

During his ABA years, Julius Erving was to the ABA what Michael Jordan years later was to the NBA: their marquee player, the player that even non-fans knew.

But to me, Julius Erving was the greatest single basketball player I ever saw.

Sorry Michael Jordan, during those ABA years, you couldn't even carry Erving's jock strap.

Happy birthday, Dr. J. You really were something else during those ABA years!

Rant #2,025: Backfield In Motion

The despicable episode involving the three UCLA college basketball players who shoplifted while in China is evidently over, but the repercussions will be felt for a long time to come

The three players--LiAngelo Ball, Codey Riley and Jalen Hill--had a news conference yesterday upon their return to the United States, and apologized for their actions.

They even said it would never happen again.

You're darn right it won't happen again, because these players--who caused an international incident of epic proportions, brought shame to their country and their school, and needed the assistance of our President to be set free--should never set foot on a basketball court again.

Right now, they simply have been suspended from their team, and their coach said in order to get back on the team, "They will have to earn it."

Why they have not been expelled from UCLA--which is supposed to be a college of education--is beyond my comprehension.

If you remember the incident, the three players, who were in China because their team was going to open its season there, shoplifted pricey sunglasses from three stores near their hotel.

They were caught red handed, as the stolen merchandise was found in their belongings.

If they were convicted, they could have spent many years in prison, but then luck prevailed.

President Trump was in China in talks with the Chinese president Xi Jinping, where they were meeting to discuss matters of international interest, such as China's relationship with North Korea.

But China is a basketball hot bed at the moment. Since Western-style basketball became all the rage when Yao Ming came to the NBA in 1989, basketball might be the most popular sport played in China, and thus, high-profile teams that schedule international jaunts are not uncommon.

Enter UCLA, perhaps the most famous college basketball program in the country, with a legacy that stretches from coach John Wooden to player Lew Alcindor.

Anyway, the talks between the two leaders got to basketball, and President Trump was well aware of the situation that happened with the three basketball players. He intervened, the Chinese president listened, and a deal was worked out.

The players came home yesterday, and they were treated like rock starts, with cameras blazing and reporters copying down and recording every word they said.

And yes, the speeches seemed prepared, written for the players to say, perhaps by the school itself.

You can be sure that when the team scheduled this trip, all personnel who would be going were told how to behave, what to do and what not to do.

I am sure they were told the "when in Rome, do as the Romans do" rules, applied to China, of course.

But I guess all of this went over some players' heads.

And now we have these three truants, who brought shame to so many, including their own families.

Yes, they should be permanently suspended from the team, and expelled from the school, too.

And if that happens, they will just find a place with another school, where they will play more basketball than they will be educated.

That is wrong in and of itself, but if any of this trio ever sets foot on the basketball court again in a UCLA uniform, that will be even more wrong.

Let them have their second chance somewhere else, and let them make the most of it, the right way.