Rant #2,214: People Got To Be Free and are Born to Be Wild while they Light My Fire

Happy Labor Day weekend.

It is a holiday weekend for most, and for many of us, it signals the real end of summer, even though we actually have a few weeks to go in the season.

For me, it is just another weekend, as I have to labor on Labor Day.

Yes, on Monday, I will be working, and all indications are that this will be the final Labor Day I will be working for this company.

Unless there is some type of miracle, we are limping toward the finish line, and a couple more indications of our impending doom were parceled out at work yesterday.

When are they going to tell us for sure that we are done? Will the door of our office be bolted?

Will the higher ups say, "Merry Christmas" to us, and then say, "And by the way, we are out of business."

And that is even if we last this long.

Fifty years ago today, on August 31, 1968, I was 11 years old, and my only worry was that school was about to start, and I needed to get all my stuff together to begin the upcoming school year.

Who would have known that so far in the future, I would be preparing myself to the fact that my job and company were both about to end, and I would need to get all my stuff together to end this part of my life as best that I could?

The Billboard Hot 100 for the week of August 31, 1968 was truly a magical cornucopia of amazing tunes that would truly stand the test of time a half century into the future.

The No. 1 single in the country was "People Got To Be Free" by the Rascals, one of the biggest hits of the 1960s, with five weeks spent at No.1. This week represented the third week of this run.

At the No. 2 spot was "Born To Be Wild" by Steppenwolf, another classic tune that has stood the test of time. It never reached No. 1, but is really the perfect counterpoint to the Rascals tune.

A former No. 1 song, the Doors' "Light My Fire," was at the No. 3 spot, with another Doors' tune, "Hello, I Love You," which sounded so much like "All Day and All of the Night" by the Kinks to many of us, at No. 4.

The so-called British Invasion was over by this point in time, but Cream came in strong at No. 5 with "Sunshine of Your Love," followed by Vanilla Fudge's slowed down and metal-ed up version of the Supremes' "You Keep Me Hangin' On" at No. 6.

The fast-rising novelty/protest tune, "Harper Valley P.T.A.," was in at No. 7 this week. This Jeannie C. Riley song would eventually supplant "People Got To Be Free" in the No. 1 spot. The song was also the biggest mover of the week, jumping all the way from No. 81, where it was on the previous week's chart.

Motown was represented in the Top 10 by Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell's "You're All I Need To Get By" at No. 8, followed by Archie Bell and the Drells' "I Can't Stop Dancing," their followup to their No. 1 "Tighten Up," solidly at No. 9.

Rounding out the Top 10 was solid Chicago soul with the Dells' "Stay In My Corner" at No. 10.

The highest debuting single on the chart was Herb Alpert's "To Wait For Love," which came in at No. 63. This was another solo effort by Alpert, but not one of his best, and it stalled a few weeks later at No. 51.

So there you have it, the Top 10 most popular singles in the country 50 years ago today.

What a lineup of songs! And "Hey Jude" was just around the corner ... .

Have a great weekend, and I will speak to you again on Monday, Labor Day.

Classic Rant #866 (December 17, 2012): My Two Cents For Something That Makes No Sense

Honestly, I wasn't going to write about this topic.

With few exceptions, I have tried to keep it light here, because I know that for some of you, this is the first thing that you read in the morning.

But I can keep silent no longer.

That tragedy in Connecticut is bothering me, bothering me big time.

How a human being can go into a school and shoot innocent people is just mind boggling.

And to have children being the main crux of his anger is beyond my comprehension.

But what really, truly riles me about the whole, unfortunate incident is the availability to guns that this madman had.

Can someone please explain to me why his mother had a stash of artillery like she had?

Was she planning for her own World War III?

Believe me, I am not blaming her for her own death, but why keep these types of guns in your dwelling?

The word is that she was a collector, and one who enjoyed target practice as a hobby. She took her children with her when she went off shooting, and the kids learned how to shoot guns during these excursions. I have heard mixed reports about this too, but whatever the case, she seemed to be a collector.

OK, I can buy that. To each his own.

But the collector part is the part of this that I cannot understand.

Sure, she collected guns, including a semi-automatic rifle.

But do you collect the ammunition for these rifles too?

And do you have enough rounds of ammo in your possession to take on an entire army?

The shooter had so many rounds of ammo on him that honestly, the destruction could have been even worse.

He knew how to put together to magazines, tape them together so that when one ran out, the other would kick in.

Why did the mother keep such a large amount of ammunition in her house?

Yes, her guns were obtained legally. She had permits for them.

But this is a hobby?

This is not like collecting records or comic books or stamps or dolls.

This is a hobby that can be potentially highly destructive in the hands of a wrong person.

She might have had everything locked away, but her son knew how to get to the guns and the ammunition, so what was the sense?

Two things that we do know that were proven once again by this incident is that, like a lethal oil and vinegar combination, guns and mental illness do not mix. Ever.

The kid was sick, the mother may have been too. Put guns and ammunition in the hands of these people, and you don't know what you are going to get.

The President said that he will see to it that things like this never happen again.

That is a rough thing to do. Even with laws in place, people who want to kill are going to set about doing it, because to them, laws mean nothing.

But if he truly wants to do something about this, then he must start at ground zero, and by that I mean the very access point that guns are distributed.

Regular citizens should not own guns, period. Not as a hobby, not as a recreation, never.

But we know that is not going to happen.

So if someone wants to own a gun legally, only certain guns should be made legal for regular citizens to own.

Certainly not any of the guns that were involved in this incident.

And the ammo should also be registered, one bullet at a time, with ID numbers, and numbers printed right on the bullets. This way, it would be easier to trace them.

Maybe that is already being done, but if it is, more has to be done to trace both the guns and the ammo, from point of purchase to eventual use.

Sure, this won't remove the problem entirely, but it will show that we are trying to do something about the problem of guns.

Maybe I am overly sensitive to this subject. My sister was very friendly with a guy who, several years ago, went into a local gun shop, bought a rifle, went into a nearby hotel, and blew his head off. He suffered from schizophrenia. I remember the parents' anguish.

Years later, my son's friend, a son of a New York City police officer, got into his father's gun case, played with a gun, it went off, and he killed himself. That one made national news, and I remember the funeral. It is hard for 10 year olds to bear such a situation, and my son barely did. It was horrible, to say the least.

So in conclusion, yes, there is more to come out of this case than what we have already heard. We all know that.

But the availability of guns, even legally, and the availability of ammunition to feed those guns, must be lessened at the initial point.

This is the only way to do it, although admittedly, you know as well as I do, if you want a gun, you are going to get it, whether legally or illegally.

The right to bear arms ... why?

(There will be no Rant tomorrow, as I have to go to the eye doctor for a checkup. Speak to you Wednesday.)

Rant #2,213: Cold Sweat

It is August 30, and I am one day closer to my vacation.

It is steamy in the New York Metropolitan area--yesterday reached into the high 90s--and today also promises to be steamy, getting in the high 80s before the weather forecasters promise us a cool down for Friday, when it is only supposed to get into the 70s.

Good. I am one of those people who simply cannot take the heat.

I have always been that way as far back as I can remember.

I am a true child of air conditioning.

My mother tells me that when I was a baby, I would not sleep in the house, probably because it was too hot for me.

But take me outside in the carriage, and I was a happy little boy, and I would sleep the day away.

Even as I got older, I hated the heat, but somehow, through my young years, I got through it all without air conditioning.

But I probably didn't sleep that well even back then because if you mix the heat with my allergies--which weren't diagnosed officially until I was about 15 years of age or so--you can only imagine what I put my parents through, particularly in the evening, when I was supposed to be fast asleep.

Then came the Rochdale Village years ... we moved to this brand new development in 1964, when I was seven years old, and we had a new toy to use in our brand new apartment--air conditioning, which was in our bedrooms and throughout our dwelling.

And you can bet that it was used all the time during the warmer months, and maybe for the first time in my young life, I was cool and happy.

We lived there until 1971, and when I was 14, we moved to the wilds of Long Island.

The house my parents purchased had no air conditioning, and after moving in in July 1971--during the height of that year's summer--I must have gotten sick, and my pediatrician--who still made house calls at that time--not only told my mother, but implored her to put an air conditioner in my room.

One was purchased, and for a while, my room was the only air conditioned room in the house.

Thank you, Dr. Geller, you might have saved my life, or at least you made me feel more comfortable.

Since then, every summer, the air conditioner goes on when I am in my dwelling, period.

We start using the air conditioner oftentimes in April, but we really pick it up as May goes into June, and the weather starts to get really warm.

We hold off as much as we can, but sometimes, my wife and I go to sleep without it on, and then in the middle of the night, I end up putting it on myself.

She is not an air conditioner person, but there are even times that she will implore me to put the air conditioner on.

Not only does it provide us some comfort, but it also provides a nice whirring sound to go to sleep to.

And yes, my son has an air conditioner in his room, my daughter had one in her room--it never worked right, for some reason, but is still in her old room--and our living room has a big one, which can cool off the entire house.

I remember a time when air conditioners in cars was not a given, but in today's world, it is a standard piece of equipment in every car on the road.

However, I don't use it much during the week, because I am in bumper to bumper traffic coming home, and I am old fashioned, believing the car will overheat if I use the air conditioning if we are only barely moving.

I know, new car air conditioners can withstand such tumult better than they used to, but I still remember some years ago, when I was driving my mother's car for some reason, and the air conditioner literally just popped--it made a popping sound like a firecracker going off--and it was never to be heard from again.

Air conditioning has been around since the early 1900s. In 1902, Willis Carrier designed the first air conditioning system, and it was used in office buildings and larger gathering places through the 1950s.

During the 1960s, it started to turn up in houses and apartments as the price for air conditioning plummeted.

Even in today's world, many people do not have air conditioning in their homes. They either don't want it, the dwelling does not come with it, or they feel they simply cannot afford it.

Me, I firmly believe that with my allergies and just my typical body the way it is, if I lived a century earlier, well, quite frankly, I probably would not have reached my 61st birthday without air conditioning to cool me down and make me feel better.

Even now, sometimes I need more than air conditioning to cool me down. At work, I also use a small desk fan to cool me down, and yes, it works.

I have had other people complain about how warm it is at work--and yes, it is, they don't pour on the air conditioner there--so since I don't feel too bad, I know the combination of air conditioning and the fan serves me well.

So thank you to four people--Dr. Geller, Willis Carrier, and of course, may parents--for helping me feel comfortable and giving me the ability to breathe.

It is simply no fun being hot.

Classic Rant #865 (December 14, 2012): Twinkie Fix Coming

For all you lovers of Twinkies, your fix may be coming.

I hear that two new suitors have arisen that are interested in buying up the brands under the old Hostess logo.

National chains Wal-Mart and Kroger have emerged, and they will be vying with such manufacturers as Bimbo and Flower Bakeries for the right to put out Twinkies, Wonder Bread, and the like.

If a chain wins the rights, I wonder how the whole thing works.

They don't have their own bakeries, so they would have to farm out the making of the products to established bakers--maybe Bimbo or Flowers themselves.

Would the products only be sold in these specific stores?

If so, few will be able to get Twinkies in my neck of the woods, because there aren't any Kroger Supermarkets on Long Island.

There are Wal-Mart locations, and plenty of them, so there won't be any problem is that chain wins the rights.

As it stands right now, it appears to be a wide open field for those looking to gain those famous snack names. No one entity is ahead of the others, or so it seems by everything I have read.

In the meantime, I don't know about your own local supermarket, but mine has upped the number of names it carries in the snack aisle.

We now have Tastycake, Freshley's and one or two others that I can't recall right now.

And yes, there are Twinkies ripoffs.

One is made by Freshley's. It think it is called "Dreamies" or something like that.

I bought it recently, but I think my son ate it.

There are others, and they taste just like Twinkies, so the world is not lacking in such cakes right now.

But they aren't Twinkies, at least by the packaging.

Personally, I don't think this bidding war will go on too long.

The iron is hot now, and those bidding--and those owning the assets--know that. They will want to tie this up with a bow really quickly so they can whet the public's appetite for these items.

So, in the new year, I can almost guarantee that you will have your Twinkies.

Who the manufacturer will be, and where you can get these things, is still up in the air, but again, I don't think this situation will last very long at all.

Eat the knockoffs now if you must, but Twinkies are on the way back to your local supermarket.

I can almost taste it.

Rant #2,212: Today's the Day

It is August 29 today, the 241st day of the year (although during Leap Years, it is the 242nd day of the year).

So this year, we are 241/365 through the year, or slightly more than 66 percent done with this year.

We are two-thirds through 2018, with just one third to go.

And my family and I are just one day closer to our vacation.

Since I consider myself burnt out, I am personally one day closer to being doused.

In recent history, today is the 60th anniversary of the U.S. Air Force Academy, which began operations today in 1958 in Colorado Springs, Colo. Many of our leading military men and women have graduated from that institution during the past 60 years.

Also, 52 years ago today, in 1966, the Beatles performed their final live concert before a paying audience at San Francisco's Candlestick Park. The Fab Four basically became a studio act for the rest of the band's life span, churning out works like "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" in the process.

More recently, in 1997, Netflix was launched today as an Internet DVD rental service, a far cry from what it is today, as probably the premier pay streaming service in the world.

And in 2005, who could forget the devastation that Hurricane Katrina brought to the Gulf Coast on this day? Some areas that were within its swirl have yet to recover.

Some interesting people count today as their birthday.

Betty Lynn was born today in 1926. You might not know the name, but this actress--who was pushed as a pretty ingenue in the late 1940s and through the 1950s--is perhaps best known for playing the part of Thelma Lou, Barney Fife's girlfriend, on "The Andy Griffith Show."

William Friedkin, the popular film writer, director and producer, who is perhaps best known for helming "The French Connection," was born today in 1935.

In 1936, Senator John McCain was born, so he just missed his 82nd birthday before he died a few days ago.

Actor Elliot Gould was born today in 1938. He carved out his own niche as an actor from the shadow of his then wife Barbra Streisand as being one of then-"New Hollywood's" rebels, appearing in a number of hit movies such as "M*A*S*H."

Robin Leach was born today in 1941, so the popular journalist and TV host just missed his 77th birthday when he passed away a few days ago.

Michael Jackson was born today in 1958. As full of excess as he was in talent, this performer pretty much defined popular music in the 1980s after breaking away from his talented family into a solo act.

There were other notable births, but with Jackson, I better stop while I am ahead.

As for deaths, while I don't want to get too deep into that subject, Gene Wilder died today, two years ago in 2016. Whether acting in Mel Brooks' masterpieces or his own work, this guy absolutely, positively knew what "funny" was during his lifetime.

So although August 29 really is a pretty non-descript day, not unlike hundreds of others on our calendar, for some, August 29 is a bellwether day, a day that is extremely important to them for one reason or another.

Me, again, I am one step closer to vacation, and that is my personal direction today.

Get through the day, and move onto the next one, where I am even closer to my vacation goal.

It can't some soon enough.

Classic Rant #864 (December 13, 2012): Who's Kidding Who?

The other day, during the premiere of the film "Les Miserables," actress Anne Hathway made a fashion faux pas that ended up becoming a hit on the Internet and was featured in newspapers around the world.

The comely actress, who is rapidly becoming ubiquitous for her big mouth and ego, and complete lack of any discernible talent other than her looks, wore a kind of short skirted outfit to the premiere, which is no big deal.

But when she got out of her limousine, everyone around her, including the papparazzi, discovered that Hathaway had no underwear on under the short skirt.

She moved in a certain way, and Voila!, you could see her privates.

And the papparazzi, being who they are and what they are paid to do, snapped away and away, and the picture made the rounds.

The actress then went on the "Today" show and defended her actions, berating the papparazi by stating, "And I'm sorry that we live in a culture that commodifies sexuality of unwilling participants."

Well, was she so unwilling or just plain stupid? Or did she know exactly what she was doing?

What I am now going to say is not a knock against women in any way, shape or form, although I will bet that some people out there will think it is.

Women have been using their charm to get what they want for centuries. It may have started with Eve in the Garden of Eden, or Cleopatra, but let's face it, women are built much differently than men are, and men are kind of weak when it comes to the female flesh.

And women are also apparently interested in what their fellow ladies look like and wear, as was quite obvious even decades ago, when Jayne Mansfield upstaged Sophia Loren in a catfight between two sex goddesses that was captured in a photo that went around the world.

Anyway, Hathaway is an actress, and here, she was acting too.

I mean, any woman with half a brain in her head knows that when you wear a short skirt, you have to dress appropriately underneath, too.

And since the glow was on her, and she knew it, don't you think she also knew that without an undergarment, if she moved a certain way, well, certain things would come out?

And she has the absolute nerve to get all "social" about it yet, talking about our culture and that she was an "unwilling participant."

Who are you kidding, you idiot? Don't be so condescending that you think the public is going to buy that.

She knew exactly what she was doing, and the reaction it would elicit.

Look, I am not going to laud the papparazzi. At times they are crass themselves, but in this case, they were pretty much just doing their jobs.

And for the "unwilling participant" to make this a social issue, well, do you think the public is that stupid?

Wear underwear, you moron, and such things won't happen in the future.

Rant #2,211: Years May Come, Years May Go

Yes, I did oversleep today, and I know that I was enwrapped in a couple of dreams, only one of which I remember anything about.

I dreamed about Beaver Cleaver of "Leave It To Beaver." I don't remember the gist of the dream, but all his friends were holding empty drinking glasses and were all standing on a step of a house, I assume it was a house at least.

He came out of the house, the drinking glasses were getting filled, and he filed into a waiting car with one or two friends.

He was whisked away.

That is all that I remember, so interpret that dream as you like, because I have no clue what it can mean related to me, my family and my life.

Anyway, with all the tributes pouring into the late Senator John McCain, this one, in particular, went a little under the radar, and I wanted to highlight it today.

I noticed it in his obituary. McCain was survived by his wife, his children from his two marriages, several grandchildren and great grandchildren.

But he was also survived by his mother.

I did a double take when I read that his mom was still alive. It was not out of the realm of possibility that she could be alive, but with the senator being just short of 82 years old when he died the other day, I wondered how old his mom is.

She is 106 years old.

Good for her! And may she have many more years of vitality!

She was even quoted as saying something to the tune of "It is difficult to bury a child," so she remains in a good state of mind, and I applaud her for that.

And living to 100 years of age or older is still not the norm, but it is something that more and more Americans are able to do.

According to a report from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, there were 72,197 Americans aged 100 or older in 2014. This is an increase of 44 percent from 2000, when there were just over 50,000 centenarians.

Why are people living longer, and in particular, why are Americans living longer?

Remember, we are the people of over consumption--overall, we overeat, overdrink, oversmoke, and overdue everything, yet thousands of us are living into triple figures, including McCain's mom.

Scientists are perplexed, because each and every centenarian is different.

You have some who watch themselves, watch what they eat, watch what they imbibe, watch everything.

Then you have others who smoke like chimneys, like their scotch, and really don't live what we would characterize as healthy lifestyles.

Some people just have good lifelines for longevity. I guess the palm readers might be onto something; some people have long life lines, others simply don't.

Not that I am a scientist, but I believe that it has to do with heredity. Some families simply have people who reach a real old age no matter what they do to stop that from happening.

The topic of age is paramount in my family. My parents are both in their mid-to-late 80s, with my mom a few months older than my father, 87 to 86.

I consider myself darn lucky to still have my parents with me, and they are as vibrant as ever--they run around like they are in their 20s and 30s.

My father in law is the same age, so I have to say that my son has some good life lines in him--hopefully my wife and I, both 61, can continue that going well into the future.

Now, not everyone in our families lived to ripe old ages. My mother in law passed away right after my wife and I were married, and she was in her 50s.

My grandparents--who all lived at least into their mid to late 80s, although we have no idea really how old my father's parents were, since there were either no or very scant records of their births in Eastern Europe, so they both could have been in their 90s--all lived to ripe old ages--

Except my mother's father, who smoked his way into an early grave. He was in his early 70s, and to this day, I miss him greatly.

Anyway, many, many years ago, at some type of local fair, I actually gave in and went to a fortune teller. She told me that I had a long life line--looking at the palm of my hand, my life line goes into my wrist--and said I would live a long life.

Yup, and I have a nice bridge to sell you if you are interested.

But the funny thing is that before she looked at my palm, she told me that three of my four grandparents lived long lives--and that they were still alive, which they were at the time.

Hmmm ...

I would love to live to at least 100 years old, and not just me, if I live to 100 years old, then my wife must accompany me on that path--and we would fit the profile.

She watches herself like a hawk, and you would never know that this was a 61 year old woman. She looks like she is in her 40s.

Me, I don't watch myself too much, and I could stand to lose a few pounds.

But again, both profiles fit the possible profiles of those who hit and go past the 100 year mark.

So here's to 2057--when I will be 100 years old, and my wife, who is about five months older than me, will be on the way to 101--a silly millemeter longer.

Onward and upward to 100!

Classic Rant #863 (December 12, 2012): Everything Is Beautiful

On the morning after the day that the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame named its latest inductees, let me talk about a performer who will never get into this supposedly hallowed institution, but somehow, I have more respect for him than the people who are in there, to be honest about it.

I like Ray Stevens, always have, always will.

His music is filled with sardonic humor, is catchy, and his non-novelty records have been about as successful as his novelty records have been.

Although today considered a country artist, Stevens has reported on the current state of mind of the U.S.A. since the early 1960s. His songs talk about mores, current trends, and he looks at everything in generally a fun way.

Take three of his singles, which were pretty much straight comedy recordings, and then take another, which is a straight, non-comedy record that topped the charts.

First, from 1963, you have "Butch Barbarian," which, quite frankly, I have had a tough time figuring out exactly what it's about. I guess it is about a guy who lives like a slob in our modern society.

The song never charted, but I have always liked it. It is silly as all heck, and that may be its charm.

Much later, take "Everything is Beautiful," from 1970. This was a straight, non-comedy recording, and it managed to hit the top of the charts.

It had almost a gospel feel to it, used a children's chorus, and was certainly an antidote for those who didn't buy in to the new artists of the day, like Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin.

During the same year, Stevens followed up that chart topper with a song that wasn't going to top anybody's chart, "Bridget the Midget."

Today, the song might seem completely out of place, certainly non-politically correct, but I don't think Stevens would care about such things.

It is one of my favorite Stevens singles, talking about a girl who had height problems who got beyond that by performing on stage. Everyone loved her, and she became the biggest star in the land.

Social commentary, eh?

More of the same came in 1974, when Stevens had by far his biggest national hit.

"The Streak" talked about the phenomenon of "streaking," where people would strip naked and flash themselves upon unsuspecting citizens. Remember, this even happened on the Academy Awards, where, as David Niven put it, the man who streaked was showing his "shortcomings."

Anyway, the song made No. 1 and fed into the curious behavior.

There were so many other hits for Stevens, like "Mr. Businessman," and "I Need Your Help, Barry Manilow," and Stevens continues to record today.

In fact, I believe it was announced recently that all his work is planned to be released in a boxed set sometime soon.

As a social commentator, writer, composer, performer and singer, Stevens may have no equal, because rather than beat you over the head with his beliefs, he does it in a way that tickles your funny bone, or in some cases, makes you cry.

I don't know another artist who elicits that range of emotion, and yes, he is funny (see yesterday's Rant).

So here is to Ray Stevens, and yes, when I listen to his music, everything is truly beautiful, in its own way.

Rant #2,210: Comedy Is Not Funny

First, the nation mourns the deaths of John McCain and Neil Simon.

I think McCain was misunderstood, a Republican who really was more of a maverick than anything else, only having a party affiliation because he had to.

He rubbed some people the wrong way, and people rubbed him the wrong way too.

Simon wrote some of the best plays of the post World War II generation, populist plays that did not sneer at the middle class, but celebrated that class.

Both men will be missed.

And now for today's main theme of this blog ...

No, comedy is not pretty, it is not funny anymore, it is boring, and downright insulting.

The latest insult related to comedy is that ABC has green lighted a new version of the classic TV show "Bewitched" that demonstrates that not only isn't comedy funny anymore, but certain areas of out society believe that comedy needs to always be a bit politicized, too.

If you remember the original "Bewitched," ABC hang its hat on that show and gained respectability--and ratings--with this sitcom, which ran from 1964-1972.

It starred Elizabeth Montgomery as Samantha, a suburban housewife who just happened to be a witch--a real good witch, not a bad one--and being that she had these powers, they seemed to always turn up, in one fashion or another, to upset the daily life of her "normal" husband, Darrin (or was it Darwin?), played by Dick York and later, Dick Sargent.

The show's revolving cast of secondary characters--including Agnes Moorhead, who played Samantha's conniving mother, Endora--made it one of the most endearing sitcoms ever, and it was the first ABC show to capture the fancy of the viewing public, giving some type of TV cred to the then-fledgling network.

Anyway, a new version of the show has been OK'd by ABC, and I would say that the premise of the new show is insulting, and a bit racist as well.

In the new show, created by the people behind "Black-Ish," including Kenya Barris and Yamara Taylor, the new "Bewtiched" will once again revolve around Samantha, who is now not only a witch but a black woman, a single mom and a woman with a career, who marries Darrin, once again a mere mortal, who just happens to be white and a bit of a slacker.

According to news reports, not only will the show once again highlight the difficulties experienced by a mere mortal married to a witch, but "also, the timely and important issues of societal inequality, too."

Yup, it is payback time, and you just know the white guy is going to get the butt-end of the magic wand on this one.

Look, it is heinous to begin with that ABC, and all the networks, are continually going back and resurrecting past hit series into modern formats, with varying degrees of success.

"Hawaii 5-0" lives on in name and theme song only, as the show has absolutely nothing to do with the original, while a show like "The Odd Couple," Neil Simon's classic stage play/movie/TV show, pretty much bombed as it was brought up to supposed modern sensibilities.

But when the show has an agenda like the new "Bewitched" appears to have, you really have to wonder why it is actually being redone in the first place.

If anything, the original series was nothing but a half hour chunk of whimsy, well written, well acted, and funny and clever as it could be. It reflected mid to late 1960s principles about upper middle class people, and if nothing else, satirized that growing part of the population, what with Darrin's hyper drive related to his work always overshadowed by Samantha's witchy powers.

What is the new show going to focus on? The relationship between the police and the black community? Donald Trump?

I mean, is this funny? Is this even clever? What is the point of this show, other than to try to level the playing field--or even take it over--between blacks and whites?

A show like this does nothing but fester the racial flames, and does it in such a negative way that you really have to wonder what is on ABC's mind by having a show like this on the schedule.

Yes, it is the PC world we live in, where past indiscretions by whites are disparaged, while new indiscretions by other racial groups are applauded as "Progress," with a capital P.

And more to the point, is this really funny? Is this something that the general public is actually going to laugh with?

Looking at the reboot just by the media reports, one can hope that this dies a quick death before it actually hits the small screen, as did the black reboot of "The Munsters," which served absolutely no purpose and never was dumped on the viewing public.

One can only hope that the new series suffers the same quick death as did the "Bewitched" movie, one of the worst of all of the "TV series to major motion picture" travesties of them all, a film starring Nicole Kidman which took the audience to be stupid, and even though it got OK reviews, the public really got it, and rejected the movie outright because it made them, the ones paying money to see this, appear to be saps.

One can only hope that this new version of the classic series never makes it out of pre-production, and those involved can move on to better projects, and that the network can see the utter blasphemy that they are allowing to pollute their broadcast schedules, and revert back to some semblance of "funny" that always found its way into their sitcoms.

Enough is enough. Comedy really needs to be funny again.

Classic Rant #862 (December 11, 2012): Comedy Is Not Pretty

I am sure you have heard by now about the two Australian shock DJs who made a prank call to the hospital where the Duchess of Cambridge was staying due to a bout of extreme morning sickness.

They impersonated the royal family, got through to the nurse, and asked when visiting hours were.

This was broadcast countrywide in Australia, and was thought to be so funny.

Well, the nurse didn't think so.

She allegedly killed herself from shame.

Of course, now the shock jocks, faced with losing their show, losing their jobs, losing their broadcast licenses, and being the world's biggest villains, are very apologetic for what they've done.

They cried and tearfully apologized to the family of the nurse for their misdeed.

They seemed to be dumbstruck themselves. The male DJ was dressed with collar open, looking like he was ready to take in a ballgame, while the woman--who normally wears low cut tops to show off her curvy figure (why do this on radio when you can't see anything?)--was dressed in very conservative black, with no cleavage to be seen.

Well, what does this all mean?

Comedy to me is pratfalls, funny jokes, the proverbial guy slipping on the banana.

Comedy to me is Abbott and Costello, the Three Stooges, Laurel and Hardy, Jerry Lewis, "It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World," "Leave It To Beaver," "The Andy Griffith Show," "Sanford and Son," Robert Klein, Andy Kauffman ...

Suffice it to say, it is not today's comedy.

Those comedians and comedies never made fun of others at their expense. Some of them were full of slapstick and wordplay, others derived comedy from the characters' personalities.

And the comedy never made fun of others in an evil way.

Today, comedy is comprised of just a few things.

First, you can't get past the vulgarity today. Lenny Bruce is turning in his grave at what he brought to the masses, because he used vulgarity as wordplay against our human foibles.

Today's comics use these words as commonplace as using the words "the," "of," and "a."

Then there's the sexual stuff.

You can say just about anything today. It doesn't matter.

Heck, Adam Sandler's last movie was about a kid in school who was raped by his teacher, fathers a child, and then has to care for the child later on when the kid becomes an adult.

Ha ha, the clown said.

Third, and this ties into the shock jocks' current problems, is that comedy today makes fun of people. The people have no comeback at all, no chance to redeem themselves.

Do you think these shock jocks really understand what comedy truly is? Do you think that they understand that when you make fun of someone, the hurt remains?

Look, the nurse who took the call obviously had many other problems, and this incident probably pushed her over the edge. This was an extreme case, and 99.9 percent of us, put in a similar circumstance, would probably pick ourselves up by our bootstraps and move on from it.

But this woman obviously didn't, and took her life. She leaves behind a husband and two kids.

I heard a U.S. shock jock yesterday actually have the nerve to say that the DJs should have received permission from those they pranked before they ran this thing on the air. That's what "we" do here, he stated.

This guy is really ignorant if this is the only thing he found wrong with this incident.

I don't even know where to go with this rant right now.

I think comedy has to change, get itself out of the gutter, and it has to be funny again.

I don't find current comedy funny. I don't laugh at "The Big Bang Theory," because I simply don't find it funny. I don't laugh at Chris Rock, because I don't find him funny.

Look, I am not a prude. I like an off-color joke as much as anyone.

But there is more to comedy than jokes about body parts and people's sexual adventures.

Comedy has to clean up itself, and be funny again. I am sure there are people out there with talent, who can do this without reverting to vulgarity, constant references about sex, and making fun of people.

It's so easy to resort to the lowest common denominator, but to rise above it is difficult.

I am sure there are talented people out there who can do it.

I hope, for the sake of comedy, that somebody stands up and shows everyone what comedy really is all about.

Rant #2,209: Incense and Alabama

Ed King has died at age 68.

And no, I don't expect most of you to know who Ed King was, and while he was a figure in popular music, no, he did not have the impact of Aretha Franklin, who we lost last week.

But Ed King made his mark on popular music in his own way, as a member of two classic rock bands, and he had a major hand in the success of both of these groups.

And you hear his songs on the radio just about every day, in particular if you listen to any type of classic rock radio.

King was one of the founding members of the West Coast psychedelic rock band the Strawberry Alarm Clock. Although they were together for a number of years and posted several hit singles and LPs on the Billboard charts, the band is etched in our memories with one of the most recognized songs of the late 1960s.

"Incense and Peppermints" was the tune, which hit No. 1 on the Hot 100 in mid-1967 and is one of the most remembered tunes of the psychedelic era.

Although the song is credited to be written by John S. Carter and Tim Gilbert, it has been acknowledged that it was inspired by an instrumental idea from Strawberry Alarm Clock members Mark Weitz and King. King was the guitarist and bassist for the band.

The Strawberry Alarm Clock placed a couple of other singles on the Hot 100, including "Barefoot in Baltimore" and "Tomorrow," but the band never could achieve the success that "Incense and Peppermints had had, and by the early 1970s, the band had broken up.

His next musical excursion led him to become a member of southern rock band Lynyrd Skynyrd.

Early versions of Lynyrd Skynyrd had been the opening act for the Strawberry Alarm Clock when the band toured in the late 1960s, but King did not join the band until 1972.

His joining that band in 1972 was a turning point for Lynyrd Skynyrd, where they soon afterward reached national popularity with "Sweet Home Alabama," probably southern rock's most popular tune, which was penned by King and two others, Ronnie Van Zandt and Gary Rossington.

The song--which reached No. 8 on the charts in 1974--was basically an answer to two Neil Young songs that some felt ripped into the southern lifestyle, "Southern Man" and "Alabama," and Young is even name-checked in "Sweet Home Alabama."

In that classic song, King can be heard counting "1-2-3," and then the song goes into its classic guitar riff.

King stayed with the band for three years, and left prior to the tragic plane crash that killed several members of the band.

He returned for a second go around in 1987, and left again in 1996. He and the band were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2006.

King's last years were years where he battled numerous illnesses. He experienced congestive heart failure, underwent a heart transplant, and finally succumbed to cancer on Wednesday of this week.

Although a Californian by birth, King is looked at as the figure that helped bring Lynyrd Skynyrd to rock respectability. He was the outsider of that group due to his birthplace, but due to his success with the Strawberry Alarm Clock, people looked at Skynyrd as a more professional band with him as a member, and pretty much the rest is history.

Although not well known to the public, King was very respected within the music industry. He did something that few popular musicians can claim to have done: he played in two classic rock bands, pretty much in the shadows, but could two songs be so diametrically different than "Incense and Peppermints" and "Sweet Home Alabama?"

But the glue that held those songs together was Ed King.

He will be missed.

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

Classic Rant #861 (December 10, 2012): Presents of Mind

The celebration of Hanukkah started on Saturday night, and lasts eight days, so we are right in the middle of it now.

Hanukkah is a joyous celebration, filled with happiness, good eating, and good gifts.

This year, my family is having our official Hanukkah party right before Christmas on Dec. 23. It's the best time to have it, because my sister's kids will be back from school, so that is how we are going to do it this year.

But for my immediate family, we had our celebration on Saturday night.

Among the gifts that were given out were an iPad for my wife and a knockoff iPad for my son.

We had so much fun figuring out these gadgets this weekend that I am ready to puke.

I really am.

They don't really provide very many directions for these types of things, and you absolutely have to have another computer nearby, or you are sunk.

I can't tell you how many times I went back and forth to this very computer I am typing on now to try to figure out things for these devices.

It took some doing, but we are pretty much A-OK, mainly with the knockoff.

The iPad will take a bit more figuring out, but my wife is ready and able to do so, and eager to learn how to use this thing.

Thank goodness for that. I still have a headache over all of this, I really do.

I am no computer genius, but with a little ingenuity--and with some searches on the Internet--I was able to at least get everyone started.

As for me, I mainly got clothes, which is OK. It is stuff that I needed.

I got new shoes and sneakers, a new watch, and I also got something you can't wear--a few new DVDs.

That is fine with me. There is nothing more high-tech for me than DVDs, and I really needed the other stuff.

My son has to learn how fortunate he is this year, and that really was the theme of the weekend.

He said some things that showed that he does not yet understand this, so he is going to have to pay for his misdeeds.

Come Wednesday, when that big bash at Madison Square Garden takes place related to relief for the victims of Hurricane Sandy, he will be making a donation to the cause.

Sure, it won't be much. My wife and I will kick in a few dollars, and he will make that donation.

It will be good for him, teaching him that gifts do not grow on trees. They cost money, and he should be happy with what he has.

I reallize that a lot of what he said came out of the frustration he had trying to learn how to use his new device, but he said things that have to be accounted for.

He will learn by giving, and not taking.

I hope he understands, because with all his kvetching this weekend, as I said, I still have a headache.

Giving is good for the soul, and his soul will feel better when he gives.

Kids have to learn that this holiday season is not just about presents; it's also about making sure your fellow man is taken care of.

And he will learn this on Wednesday ... as he plays with his new device.

That appears to be the modern way to do it.

Rant #2,208: Congratulations

Today is a very important day in my family.

Twenty-three years ago today, in 1995, our son was born.

So my wife and I had the perfect "nuclear family" with his addition, although in a funny type of way.

During my first marriage, we had a daughter, and now, with my forever union, we had a son, so yes, it was the perfect "nuclear" family: mother, father, daughter, son.

The coming of our son was a momentous occasion. We had someone to carry on our last name, and two of my grandparents--my father's parents--were still alive to witness his coming into this world.

I still have the vision of my grandmother, suffering from Alzheimer's Disease but at this point, still somewhat cognizant of what was going on, helping to put our son, who was being fussy, to sleep by cradling him in her arms and rocking and kind of singing him to sleep.

A few months later, she had no idea who he was, but that moment was pure magic.

Our son is the greatest son a father could have. He wasn't supposed to do as much as he has done thus far in his life.

He was diagnosed with a learning disability when he was in nursery school, was doomed to failure by some, but he has exceeded all expectations because of hard work and diligence.

He is like a piece of art. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and I have learned through our son that smartness is, too.

There is the smartness that is accepted in society, that gets you good grades in school and helps you go to college and get a good job.

Then there is the smartness that comes out of necessity, because you perhaps don't think the same way as others do, or as the norm decries that you do.

That is the smartness that our son has. Going back to the art reference, one looks at a painting, and one person might find it to be a work of genius, another person might find it to be a work of ... nothing much.

I think you can say that about our son. He is a smart guy; maybe not the smartness that will get him into Harvard, but his thinking process should not be devalued as it is in school and by society in general.

This guy, who wasn't supposed to be able to do much of anything, has actually been working since he was 15 years old. Sure, his first jobs did not pay him anything, but they set the groundwork for his subsequent jobs, where he gets a salary.

He has won commendations for his work--he just got one the other day--and he is well liked by his co-workers, who I believe see as much potential in him as we do.

Look, nobody is going to say that the road hasn't been a bit bumpy with him. There are times that we just have to shake our heads and yes, worry about him.

But he always seems to bounce back, and sets himself up to conquer the next mountain that stands in his way.

He is actually a pretty lucky guy. At 23 years of age, not only does he have my wife and I for support, but he also has three of his grandparents around to cheer him on. He also has an extended family--aunts, uncles, cousins--who really believe in him.

My wife and I will celebrate his 23rd birthday tonight--we all have to work today--and we will celebrate 23 years of accomplishments that his early detractors could never have predicted.

Yes, he is a work in progress, and there is always room for improvement. And he is progressing along the way, surprising us every day with just how much he can do versus what he can't do.

This is someone who, maybe despite the odds, is going to be all right in his world. His job has helped provide him with a focus, and he enjoys doing it.

So to our son, the very happiest of birthdays to you. The road you have been on--and the road you have taken us on--is not always straight, but it is there for the taking.

And you are slowly maneuvering through it, maybe a couple of steps at a time, but you are getting there, and you will get there.

We are convinced of that.

Classic Rant #860 (December 7, 2012): Hanukkah Lights

Tomorrow evening at sunset is Hanukkah, the festival of lights.

It's the first evening of a seven-day celebration that is in the November/December time frame each year.

It's not my favorite Jewish holiday, but it is the end-of-the-year Jewish holiday that all Jews look forward to.

But it is not Jewish Christmas, if anybody thinks it is.

It is a completely separate holiday that has nothing to do with Christmas.

In fact, it is probably older than Christmas.

Yes, it involves gift giving, but in the sum total of all the Jewish holidays, it is a relatively minor one on the calendar.

It harkens back to the victories of Judah and the Maccabees, and the days of the old Temple, which was destroyed, and its rebuilding, and the almost "magic" candelabra that burned brightly for eight days, although it had just enough oil for one, single day.

To me, it is a celebration of much more than that.

It is a day to be thankful, a day to look at ourselves and see where we have been and where we are going.

If that sounds like Yom Kippur, it is kind of similar, but this holiday is celebrated in a more fun way.

Dreidels are traditionally spun, Hanukkah gelt is given, small presents are exchanged, and food heavy in oil is traditionally eaten.

It is a holiday that the family gets together, and it's a day of fun.

Again, it's a relatively minor holiday on the Jewish calendar, but in the U.S., it has risen to much grander status.

Giant menorahs are lit around the country to symbolize the strength of the Jewish people. Sometimes, they stand proudly next to Christmas symbols, and this has often riled some people who think that their religion should not have to share the stage with another.

I happen to disagree. Both Christmas and Hanukkah represent the most joyous of seasons, but again, they are separate. One holiday has nothing to do with the other. But I certainly don't mind public sites where symbols of both holidays are represented.

I think some people believe that Christmas doesn't have to share the stage with another holiday because they are anti-Semitic, although they certainly wouldn't admit to it.

I also think that many Jews forget that they two holidays are separate. They so want to assimilate into the mass culture that they forget who they are, forget their faith.

I am offended when symbols of the two holidays are mixed into one, such as putting a Jewish star on top of a Christmas tree or reindeers wearing yarmulkes.

Sure, people think this is fun, but it is really a slap in the face of both holidays.

Yes, I know that there are many intermarriages, and multiple faiths are celebrated at the same time of year in the same household.

That is fine for some people, and for people in that situation, I guess it is a way to resolve the fact that there are two religions in the same household.

For me, I don't have such a quandary. My wife is Jewish, I am Jewish, and my children were raised as Jews.

I am not knocking Jews and Gentiles who have married, but that is something they have to deal with. 

I don't.

So happy Hanukkah to all my Jewish friends, and in a few weeks, I will wish my non-Jewish friends a Merry Christmas.

It's a joyous time of year, and each holiday stands proudly on its own.

Rant #2,207: My House

I am a nostalgic type of person.

I love to look back at the past, and I have a pretty good memory for things that happened in my life 20, 30, 40, 50 or more years ago.

I don't remember everything, but I do remember more than most people seemingly remember about their formative years.

And I am not talking about their teen or pre-teen years. I am talking about even their years as a toddler or as a bit more than a toddler, ages maybe four to seven years old.

I remember a lot, but I don't remember everything.

I have talked extensively here about my old neighborhood of Rochdale Village, South Jamaica, Queens, New York, where I lived from the age of seven to 14 years of age, the years which I believe are the most important years in a person's life, where you go from literally a little kid to a young adult--and it happens so fast, and those years shape you for the rest of your life.

And my memory of those seven years often irk people, because I remember things that, let's say, they don't want to remember.

But I don't talk as much about my years prior to that, because, well, I don't remember as much about those years as I do about the Rochdale Village years.

However, they were very important years in my life.

I was born in Brooklyn, New York, in a hospital that doesn't exist anymore and hasn't existed for decades. I think it was called Caledonian Hospital, but I really don't remember for sure what it was called.

I lived with my parents on Avenue N in Brooklyn for my first year of life, and then we moved to Kew Gardens Hills, Queens, my family's first venture into that borough.

During those years in the late 1950s and early 1960s, Kew Gardens Hills was a very hardscrabble area, made up of hard-working people, mainly blue collar but some white collar too.

The neighborhood I grew up in was a very notorious one, due to a number of things that happened there when I lived there.

The glue-sniffing craze--where kids would buy model airplane glue, sniff it, and get the resultant actions that you might think one would get for sniffing this stuff--started right in my neighborhood, and could have started right in the building I lived in, an address that I don't remember, but it was a three story building of apartments, much like other buildings in that area.

Anyway, I have an early reminiscence of one summer night, where the police led out a group of about 20 pre-teens and teens from the basement of our building, all of whom had been sniffing glue.

In the vicinity of our building came two incidents that not only shocked the neighborhood and the city, but also the rest of the country and perhaps the world.

One was the famous Alice Crimmins case. Crimmins was an absolutely beautiful woman in a bad marriage who did away with her kids in a dumpster around the corner from my house. Thought of as one of the first tabloid-driven stories that was driven as much by the gruesomeness of the crime as by Crimmins' absolute beauty--and covered as such by the New York Daily News and the New York Post--the story predated later, similar stories, but this was the first one covered as such by the New York newspapers, each looking to one up the other by printing another photo showcasing the beauty of this eventually found guilty cold blooded killer.

The other story was the Kitty Genovese story, where the young Genovese was walking home at night from work, was attacked by someone, and her cries of help were supposedly not paid attention to by those living in the neighborhood where this incident happened. It showed man's inhumanity to man, people not taking action when they should have, and made local, national and international headlines, and is still referred to to this day when people talk about looking the other way when situations occur.

But heck, when these things happened, I was just a kid, so they didn't affect me, until I was older and I realized that these things happened right in my neighborhood, the place that I called home during the early years of my life.

I remember jumping up and down in my bed or crib when "American Bandstand" was on TV. I remember telling my mother that I had to go to the bathroom, and that signaled that I was finally toilet trained. I remember the Marilyn Monroe incident that I described yesterday, and my very first memory of just about anything was George Reeves' death, and my young thoughts about "How could Superman die?"

I went to P.S. 165 (see photo), a thriving school in neighboring Flushing, during kindergarten and first grade. The school was an excellent learning institution, and I remember Mrs. Gold, my first grade teacher, who was older and was actually heading an experimental class I was in, where we combined first, second and third grade work into one year. Could it work? Yes it did.

And was Fran Drescher in my class? She might have been, she went to the same school, is my age, and when I look at a class picture, some of the girls do look like what she could have looked like back then, but I am not sure.

I remember my friends from that era, although not their last names, I remember David and Danny and Julie. I remember a girl who beat me up at will, whose name was Carla Maybloom. I remember a girl named Debbie, a beautiful blond girl who had an equally beautiful sister who was confined to a wheelchair with some malady that I don't remember.

I remember my parents' best friends at the time, Stu and Marge, who had kids my age. When they moved to Westbury, Long Island, I remember going to their house--we still lived in Kew Gardens Hills, but were looking to move--and being mystified at someone living in their own home as opposed to an apartment.

I remember listening to Chipmunks records with Danny and Julie; I remember hearing Spanish spoken for the first time by the kids of a new family in the neighborhood; and I remember seeing people who were not my skin color for the first time, squatters who lived in the basement of our building and whose baby was named "Swee' Pea."

I remember watching a lot of TV. I remember my father trying to get me to watch a baseball game on TV, and me not being interested at that time ...

But I also remember coming home from school on that fateful day in November, and watching non-stop coverage of the JFK assassination. And yes, I remember watching when Jack Ruby shot Lee Harvey Oswald, and I remember running into the kitchen and telling my mother that "something had happened" and that she should come into the living room.

I remember watching "Ding Dong School" and "Modern Farmer" and "Wonderama" and "Let's Have Fun" and every cartoon show that was on at the time, including my personal favorite, "Huckleberry Hound."

And I also remember buying comic books after school with change that I "found" in the living room, put there by my father after a day at work.

Yes, I remember the bugs that infested our apartment and building, my mother's frantic cries to the super to fix the problem, and I also remember my mother being pregnant and confronted with a neighbor, who knew well of my mother's situation, yet came into our house with a case of German measles. My father subsequently went to Saturday services at the local synagogue for weeks to pray to God for a healthy baby, and when my sister was born, she was fine.

I remember myself having measles, being quarantined for weeks, and when it was over, having photos taken of me in the style that was popular at the time.

But by July 1964, we moved to Rochdale Village, and my time in Kew Gardens Hills was history.

The area fell into some disrepair in the 1970s, but has rebounded since then, with the area featuring excellent access to shopping, to good schools, and to the subway, where getting to Manhattan is a snap.

The squalid apartment that we lived in goes for big bucks today. and the area is a good one, probably better now that it was when I lived there.

Those are some of my memories of the area. It was a fun time of my young life, but a lot of that time is fuzzy. I remember much more about Rochdale Village, which is really the neighborhood that I feel I grew up in, for better or worse.

But those early years ... I won't ever completely forget them.

Rant #2,206: Candle In the Wind

More than 50 years after her death, Marilyn Monroe still captivates us.

She stands for purity, nautiness, sexuality and a different era, one that probably most of us alive today weren't even around in.

She was a popular actress in her life, but in death, she became an absolute icon.

I am sure that some younger people can't even believe that this woman existed, but she did. She was flesh and blood, like we all are, but she was also a figment of the Hollywood imagination machine that existed back then.

No electronic social media back then, but she still was noticed, seemingly every move she made was magnified, and her death remains something of a mystery to this day.

Add this all up, and you have a bull market for anything she touched, and certainly anything she actually put on her body and wore.

So with that in mind, several dresses that Monroe wore during her height of popularity have been put up for auction in what seems like the umpteenth auction of Monroe memorabilia that has been held over the past 30 or more years or so.

Reports are that the items will be shown in Beverly Hills for now, and an auction will follow in October.

In addition to several handwritten notes, there are many dresses that the actress wore on the screen during her career that are up for auction this time, dresses she wore in movies such as "How To Marry a Millionaire" and "Gentlemen Prefer Blondes."

And yes, that iconic white dress from "The Seven Year Itch," the one that when she walked over the grate in the ground billowed up around her, will be part of this auction.

And bring your checkbook, because you can bet that these dresses and other memorabilia will fetch hefty prices, at least in the high six figures and some, like that white dress, might even push the seven figure mark.

What is it about Marilyn Monroe that makes her such a popular figure?

Well, she is a tragic figure, and people revel in other's tragedies.

There sill remains mysteries about her death--did she commit suicide or was she rubbed out because she knew too much about, among others, the Kennedy brothers?

She represents a different time in history, a time when Victorian ways were still prevalent, yet she kind of skirted those ways with her sexuality, kind of predating the almost total shucking of past ways that we experienced in the late 1960s, or a few years after her death.

And let's be honest about it, she was a beautiful woman. Yes, she had plastic surgery to correct some flaws, but generally, many thought of her as the perfect woman, and few would argue that, even today.

She had a sexuality that really crossed over, and although men adored her, women kind of admired her.

She had an appeal that is hard to put a steady finger on, but you add it all up, and you got Marilyn Monroe.

In my house, Marilyn Monroe was the IT girl.

My father absolutely adored her, and at an early age, I knew the name, if not really who she was or why my father loved her.

It is amazing that looking back so many years ago, I can still remember very, very clearly when I had heard that she had died.

She died on August 5, 1962, so I was a little more than five years old when she passed.

It was the middle of the summer, my family and I lived in Kew Gardens Hills, Queens, New York, in a somewhat notorious area where two other women--Alice Crimmins and Kitty Genovese--became nationally known figures because of horrid misdeeds involving them, literally nearby or right around the corner from where we lived.

Anyway, I was five years old, and just getting to live my life. The Kennedy assassination was still many months away, but my very first memory that I had was George Reeves' death when I was about two years old.

I mean, how could Superman die?

But during the summertime of 1962, I was busy as a bee in the house that particular day.

I was in my room, the room I shared with my little sister, who was two years old at the time, and evidently, it must have been late morning when I heard about Marilyn.

I was playing with my Kenner Give A Show Projector in my darkened room, which was basically a flashlight with a slit that you could put cels of pre-made photos, and it would flash on the wall or anything you wanted to flash it on.

There were even some blank ones that came in each package of the toy, with crayons, so you could literally make your own cels to flash on the wall.

Generally, popular cartoon characters cels came with the toy, and I guess I was flashing them in my room. I remember being absolutely fascinated with this toy, and played with it so much that I think my parents bought me another one because I had completely burnt out the first one.

Anyway, I was playing with the toy in my darkened room when I heard what had happened. My mother used to have the radio on all the time, and I did not know what station it was on at the time, but it used to blare through the house. You would have to be stone deaf to not hear the radio.

Well, the announcer or DJ or newsman came on and said the Marilyn Monroe had died.

I heard this, became as scared as I had ever been at that time in my life, shut the projector off, and put the light on in my room.

I guess I knew that my father loved Monroe, and became scared when the announcer said that she had died.

That was one of the most seminal moments of my young life. I had experienced George Reeves's death, but I was too little to really understand what "death" was, even though I did wonder how Superman could die.

But I was a bit older in 1962, and when I heard that Monroe died, well, I guess I "got it" a bit more than a couple of years earlier.

And looking back at the whole thing, I guess that is why I became absolutely fascinated, transfixed to the TV for days, when JFK was assassinated.

Again, I was older then than I was during the Reeves and Monroe deaths, and "got" the whole thing even better than I did when I was younger.

By the time of the Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King assassinations, I guess I was fully engaged, with the Reeves, Monroe and JFK deaths fully setting me up for these other tragedies.

Whatever the case, like seemingly the rest of civilization, my father, to this day, looks at Monroe as the ideal.

And you know what? He is joined my millions of others in that appraisal.

Classic Rant #859 (December 6, 2012): Tall Tale

I read yesterday that the world's tallest woman passed away at age 39.

Her name was Yao Defen, she lived in China, and she was not only the world's tallest woman, she was one of the world's tallest people, period.

She was 7 feet, 7 inches tall.

According to reports, she suffered from gigantism, which can stretch limbs and other parts of the human body to almost unimaginable lengths.

And in some cases it can be deadly.

She played basketball at one time, of course, but Yao Ming evidently had nothing to worry about.

Defen was not happy with her size, often wondering why she was burdened by this curse.

I am sure that along with the height, other normal body functions that we take for granted didn't work right for her.

For one, I am sure the burden her heart could bare was increased by her size. A human heart really isn't made to support such a skeleton.

And like most very tall people, she probably had leg and foot problems.

I am sure she had to get her clothes custom made for her.

And socially, she was probably something of an outcast.

But she seemed to be a smart woman who was not comfortable with her body, her features, and her challenges, and probably all the people that stared at her because of her huge height.

I am 5 feet, 9 inches tall. That's pretty normal for the American male, I would say. 

I think the average height for the American male is 5 feet, 8 inches, so I guess I am slightly above normal height.

I just can't imagine someone as tall as she was. Put us side by side, and she was like half a person taller than I am.

I do feel sorry for people who have such a burden. 

They get stared at from the get go, and if they are not athletic, what do they do with their lives?

I remember in my old neighborhood of Rochdale Village in Jamaica, Queens, there was a guy who lived in the building across the street. 

There were a lot of rumors about him, but the fact of the matter was that as a little kid, this guy was absolutely enormous.

He must have been 6 feet, nine inches or thereabouts, maybe even a bit taller, give a few inches, and to us little kids, he looked like a giant.

We mocked him, we stared at him, we yelled things at him.

We did it because we were scared of him because of his height.

We weren't very nice to him, and there were other rumors about him that I won't get into now that added to our behavior toward him.

I always wondered about that guy. I know he didn't take kindly to our taunts, and would yell back at us.

But if you aren't a world famous basketball player, it must be difficult to live in a world where most people are at least a foot shorter than you are.

Defen was like two feet taller than her peers, if not more, and she must have had a very difficult life.

So here's to her, and all the other people in the world who have to bear the burden of enormous height.

And that's the long and short of it for today.

Classic Rant #858 (December 5, 2012): Wham Bam

I wrote about the Monkees the past two days, and I won't write about them again today.

But their very existence can be linked to this performer that I celebrate today, who is himself celebrating his 80th birthday on this very day.

Heck, not only do the Monkees owe their existence to him, but so do the Beatles, Buddy Holly and the Crickets, the Rolling Stones, yes, even Elvis.

Little Richard Penniman is an icon, a living legend, and the guy, who, for all intents and purposes, started it all.

Yes, he had help. Others, like Bill Haley and the Comets, Chuck Berry and Ike Turner, laid the groundwork, but Little Richard is the guy who allowed rock and roll to become mainstream music.

Having his first national hit, "Tutti-Frutti," about two months before Elvis had his first national hit, Richard set the benchmark for what followed.

And his flamboyance irked many oldsters, who looked upon rock and roll at the beginning of the end of the world in the very staid 1950s.

Richard had that high hair, he often wore makeup, and wore wild outfits. He stomped and preened for his audience, and they loved him.

Sure, his hit years were encompassed in basically a very short time period--between 1956 and 1958, although he continued to chart into the 1960s and beyond--but those hits, along with Chuck Berry's music, laid the groundwork for rock then and into the 1960s.

Every rocker worth his salt covered his hits, whether it was "Tutti-Frutti," or "Lucille," "Long Tall Sally," or "Jenny, Jenny." They were simple songs, but without them, dare say there would have been no rock 'n roll as we know it.

Little Richard has had his ups and downs. He has battled with his talent, leaving show business for awhile and going the religious route.

He has battled with other demons, including his sexuality, but for all his battles, he seems to have won each and every one.

His influence is monumental, and even at 80, he is seemingly as spry today as he was nearly 60 years ago.

I missed Little Richard's hit years, but I ran out and bought his last national hit, "Great Gosh A'Mighty (It's a Matter of Time)" in 1986. It was the theme song to the hugely successful "Down and Out in Beverly Hills" film, and it marked a major comeback for Little Richard, coming back into the rock fold. It only hit #42 on the Hot Singles chart, but Little Richard was back, and he has been going full throttle ever since.

I also have one of his greatest hits albums, and I have a lot of other material he recorded in my record collection.

But those early, seminal songs set the tone for rock and roll as we know it, and for those songs, Little Richard will always be remembered.

He was probably the first performer with that rock and roll attitude, and it's great that he is still around today, wowing audiences with those wonderful songs.

Happy birthday, Mr. Penniman. Here's to another 80 years to wow us even more.

Rant #2,205: Think

My family and I had a decent weekend this one past.

We went to the New York Yankees/Toronto Blue Jays game at Yankee Stadium, saw the Yankees win, and after a busy Saturday, basically crashed on Sunday ... well, except for our son, who worked that day.

Anyway, some things happened during the past week on social media that demonstrate that people are just so betwixt and between on vehicles like Facebook that they simply have forgotten how to think.

And each incident happened between myself and people who I grew up, people I knew in my old neighborhood in Queens, and demonstrated that really, people should cool down, count to 10, and chill out.

One of the incidents involved a guy that I knew, way back when, not as really a true friend, but as an acquaintance more than anything else.

He was a nice person, he was a year older than me, I believe, and our paths crossed many times in the old neighborhood, between Cub Scouts and the Rochdale Village Athletic League, our community's Little League.

Anyway, this person has had a hard go of it recently. I believe that one of his sons was involved in a serious motorcycle accident, and he is on the long road to recovery after a period where the family did not know if he would make it, period.

Another son's life apparently unraveled because of drugs and lifestyle, and he didn't make it.

This obviously is a large load to bear for any person, and perhaps people's perceptions change when things like this happen to you, and happen to you so quickly.

I read about the travails of these two young men, and always gave words of encouragement to their father, who got such words from many other people too, not just me.

Anyway, to make a long story short, these incidents changed this person, from a nice person to speak to on Facebook from time to time, to a virulent anti-Semite and racist, drawing some of the most antagonistic, horrid posters to his own posts that I have ever seen.

If you think Archie Bunker could only be white, well, do I have news for you!

After these unfortunate incidents with his sons played out, this person who I grew up with all of a sudden changed.

His posts became increasingly pro-I am at a loss of words to say, maybe pro-African American, pro-black ... but those aren't the terms I want to convey, because what I just described are not necessarily bad things. I guess I should describe them as "pro-black, but anti-white and and anti-Semitic."

His posts decried the "fact" that the Jews today aren't the real Jews, that blacks should take back this country from whites, that Jews are the cause of all the world's ills.

I am kind of summarizing here, but those descriptions were the themes of his recent posts.

I took him to task for all of these, and the replies I received from those following him were repulsive, to say the least, anti-white and anti-Semitic to their very core.

To make a long story short, I wrote his a polite Facebook message telling him how I felt, and he replied that he was just bringing "the truth" out.

No, it was not the truth, it was more spreading hate than anything else, and I summarily dumped him as a Facebook friend.

His family situation changed him, and he directed his anger at his situation to whites and Jews.

Sorry, I cannot read stuff like this and just pass it by.

Another situation, less virulent but still idiotic in my estimation, is currently happening between myself and a girl that my sister was very, very friendly with when they were growing up and whose parents my parents were very friendly with way back when.

I recently reconnected with this lady after more than 40 years of occasionally wondering whatever happened to her. I discovered her through another childhood friend's posts, and it seems that the feeling was mutual to reconnect via Facebook.

She puts up posts every here and there that I read, sometimes I respond to, mainly posts about work and life and her children and grandchildren, stuff like that, nothing with nothing.

However, her posts against the president have grown in frequency, tone and anger lately.

She can post her opinion on Facebook any time she likes, and that is fine with me. That is her right to do, and like with the other fellow I just spoke about, you have every right to post just about anything you want on Facebook.

But people who read these things have every right to respond, and respond I did, but very slightly.

When she would put up these posts--which are totally out of character with her other posts--I basically asked her why she feels the way she does.

And I swear to you, my response was as simple as that, nothing more, nothing accusing, just that. Period.

Well, I did this on Friday, and I got an earful (or is it an eyeful?) on Friday night from her younger sister, a lady that honestly, I don't remember from the old neighborhood, If anything, she was a baby way back when, and my memory wasn't serving me as to who she was initially, but yes, her family was a big family, and she must literally be the youngest of the family, and I did not remember her.

She gave me the business about why I had the nerve to ask her sister such a question, who the heck did I think I was, the whole nine yards.

Again, I told her that her sister and I had just reconnected, I didn't think that anything I said was so terrible, but that people have forgotten how to be civil, have forgotten how to have a conversation, and take a difference of opinion as if it was a knock against someone's very life and heritage.

I even used the analogy of the Yankees and Mets; some people like myself are Yankees fans, some people are Mets fans. I have many friends that are Mets fans, including my in-laws. We poke each other at times, it is all done in fun, and nobody holds grudges about it, we simply move on.

Why can't it be that way when we are discussing politics? Why can't we simply agree to disagree and move on?

The actual person I reconnected with came back with more anger about my simple question, and after reading the posts, between her and her sister, I had had enough.

I gave them an out. I said that I will always have good memories of her, her family--she has at least two other sisters that I kind of remember, as well as a brother--and certainly of her parents, who were really good friends of my parents during the old days.

I said that if you feel the need to, please block me. If you want to throw all of that away over silliness, please go ahead and do so.

But I also said that if you put up posts, whatever the theme of the posts, you should expect positive and negative feedback to come your way, and you should just brush the negative feedback off and not take it so personally, as if I was knocking the very existence of your family.

I have not gone on Facebook today as of 4:42 a.m., which is is right now, so I don't know the outcome.

I remember when we were kids, on a hot, steamy summer evening, my friends and would congregate in the park by our apartment building and talk for hours about this, that and the other thing.

Sure, we knocked each other, but nobody ever took it beyond that.

We were still friends through and through, we laughed, we cursed each other out, and we moved on.

Some people cannot do that today, and that makes me sad.

People are so angry today that they will literally throw away decades-old friendships over utter nonsense.

These are just two recent incidents I have had on Facebook. There have been others, where I have blocked people, and people have blocked me.

I mean, people, let's think! Let's accept the fact that not everyone is going to agree with everybody on every topic, and let's not take it beyond that.

Think! It is the only way to go.