Rant #2,386: Another Day

It's just another day in my neck of the woods.

Nothing much to report on here.

The weather temperature has dropped at least 30 degrees from what it was during the Memorial Day weekend, so the shorts have been put away and we have taken out the long-legged pants again.

The Yankees continue to win, I continue to get bills in the mail, my place of business continues to hang on by a thread and yes, I still eat cereal for breakfast.

So today is a nothing new day.

But since the Ranting and Raving Blog turned 10 years old earlier this month--it was a birthday that I completely overlooked myself--I have written Rants on other May 30ths on this blog, so what did I write about on those past May 30ths?

Let's see ...

On May 30, 2017, I wrote the "Hot Fun in the Springtime" post, where I spoke about my family's trek out to the literal end of Long Island to Greenport, which resembles a New England town rather than part of New York State. We went out there to celebrate Memorial Day, and I remember that we ate there, walked around there, but although it took us longer to get there than the total time we stayed there, it was fun nonetheless.

On May 30, 2018, in the "Too Much Talk" entry, I wrote about how people's mouths often get in the way, and I specifically targeted Roseanne Barr and Kathy Griffin for shooting off their mouths and people being tired of hearing what they had to say. Even though coming from different sides of the political spectrum, each of these ladies has, as my old gym teacher used to say, "diarrhea of the mouth," and the problem is that they do not know when to stop, and still don't, to be honest with you.

On May 30, 2012, I wrote about actress Ruta Lee in the "Roto-Ruta" post, where I highlighted the career of actress Ruta Lee, someone who I always liked and who had a very interesting background and plenty to speak about. Today is her birthday, she turns 84 on this day, and while you don't hear about her much today, she was a ubiquitous presence on TV and the movies back in the 1960s, and I was always attracted to her perky nature.

Funny, but looking back at the past May 30ths, I don't have a heck of a lot of Rants posted on that day, simply because in most years, May 30 falls right into the Memorial Day holiday and/or the weekend, so there are only a handful of columns that were actually written on that date to talk about, the above three being a couple of maybe two or three more--tops--that I could have highlighted here.

But whatever the case, it just goes to show that May 30 really is just another day, another brick in the load, just another day as we push toward summer.

This is my final Rant of the week. I only found out yesterday that I have to take a leave from here on Friday to do some other things tomorrow, and if all goes right, I will let you know about it next week.

So, one day early, let me wish you a good weekend, and I will speak to you again on Monday, hopefully with some excellent news to report.

Speak to you then.

Classic Rant #1,031 (August 29, 2013): Home Alone

My son, who just turned 19 years old as you know based on my Rant last week, is home alone this week since his last year of high school has not started yet, and let me tell you, he has been a whirlwind here.

He goes to bed at about 1 a.m., wakes up about 2 p.m. in the afternoon, and he literally does nothing all day but go onto Facebook and YouTube.

What a life!

He is also eating us out of house and home.

We have asked him to watch what he is eating, but evidently, those pleas have gone in one ear and out the other.

He is eating cereal, gum, ice cream and cake frosting with reckless abandon, and last night, as my wife and I dozed off around 8:30 p.m., he really went to town.

With chocolate all over the kitchen, he finished off chocolate ice cream and chocolate cake frosting as if they were water.

And we have the fingermarks all over the place to prove it.

This time really is the abyss of the summer for these kids. His job at the summer camp ended last week, he is about a week or so away from starting school, and there really isn't much for him to do.

He has few friends, and they might still be away this week, so contacting them is not much of an option. And I get the impression that my son would rather be alone anyway, which isn't really good.

We cannot occupy him, because my wife and I are at work.

I know that his grandmother took him out yesterday for lunch, but if that does not happen again, I am telling you that he will not venture out of the house again until Saturday, when we have a social appointment to keep.

He is eating like there is no tomorrow, but happily, he isn't showing it. Don't go by the picture I have supplied here. That was taken a few years ago. He is much taller and much thinner now than he showed in that photo. He is built just like my mother, as skinny as can be.

We have warned him about later problems, like diabetes, and it pretty much gets a nod and that is it.

At 18 years of age, to a kid in very good health, you can say all you want about future health problems, but is he really going to listen?

We are counting the days before he goes back to school, which isn't a smooth transition, because he "kind of" goes back to school.

Due to a combination of Labor Day and the Jewish holidays, he goes back only sparingly at first, and really doesn't start his full school schedule for two weeks or so.

Every parent with a school kid knows what I am talking about here. That time between a summer job and school really is the pits.

But what am I complaining about, really?

My wife and I know he is a good kid, and he has always been a good kid. He is a good kid now, and way back, like when the above photo was taken, he was a good kid too.

He doesn't really do anything to get our goat, like hanging out with friends to all hours or smoking.

But I guess we want him to be perfect, and he isn't, and no one is.

What can you say? We are parents, and to us, he will always be our little boy.

Rant #2,385: Thanks For the Memories

Today is Bob Hope's birthday.

If he were still around, he would be 116 years old; as it was, he lived to the ripe old age of 100 years old before leaving us in 2003.

Hope was America's most popular comedian for decades. He did his standup routines before presidents and kings, and yes, us common folk too.

He also entertained the troops year after year, no matter what the conflict was.

He was controversial without being controversial, knocking both sides of the ledger even though he was crassly Republican all the way.

Hope was a comic of a different time. He didn't offend anyone, didn't try to offend anyone, he just wanted to make us laugh, and maybe make us think just a little bit about who he was mocking or making fun of.

But like the best of the comics, it was all done in fun.

Hope was a popular stage entertainer, he was one of the biggest movie starts in the 1940s, 1950s and 1960s, and he absolutely owned first radio, then television, for decades.

Even though he was America's most popular comic for decades, I doubt that there is one single person who can remember any of his jokes or any of his routines.

He was not either Bud Abbott or Lou Costello, where you can point to "Who's On First" or "7 Times 13 Equals 28" and recite the routine word by word.

Hope was simply funny; he didn't do routines, necessarily, but his writers and Hope himself were always on cue with what was happening at the present time, and how they could make America laugh about it.

He and one of his best friends, Bing Crosby, were in several "Road" movies, probably the first "buddy" movies that Hollywood produced. Those movies were fun, lively, and had absolutely no political messages at all.

Yes, Hope and his wife Delores were very, very wealthy. He seemingly owned real estate throughout California, and he also gave a lot of his fortune away as a philanthropist.

But during the Vietnam War, people knocked Hope as much as they knocked our troops during this unpopular war. People burned their draft cards, and said Hope's name in vain.

Hope, like a good Timex watch, just kept on ticking, He was the Eveready Bunny of entertainers, and he continued to take his troupe to some of the most foreboding spots on earth during and after this conflict, always accompanied by the top starlets of the day, including Ann-Margret and Raquel Welch.

And the troops loved him, loved him as much as they could. To them, he brought a little bit of home to the battlefield, and they really looked forward to his appearances to the point that an actual ship, the USS Bob Hope, is named after him.

The amazing thing about all of this is that Hope was British born; he came here as a baby, but he was as American as baseball and apple pie.

He was true Americana in the form of a living, breathing human being.

And as a comic, he was unique, because he actually had a signature song, "Thanks For the Memory," a tune he warbled in "The Big Broadcast of 1938," which he sung in a duet with Shirley Ross.

Towards the end of his life, his jokes became a bit stale, and he seemed to be rolled up to the camera to deliver his teleprompter-fed lines and then rolled away, only to come out again when the occasion called for it.

But for someone whose career literally lasted for 80 years or more, Hope was still around, still there, still having TV specials that drew huge ratings.

He died on July 11, 2003, and he took with him a kind of comedy the likes of which we will never see again--and the level of popularity that we will never see again either.

I used to watch his specials, saw many of his films and although I was pretty young, I think I really got this guy and what he meant to Hollywood and really to the country.

He was a living and breathing Mount Rushmore, and what he meant to many people--primarily our troops overseas--was immeasurable.

Bob Hope was truly a one of a kind entertainer, and love him or not, he entered into our consciousness and never left it.

Sure, a lot of kids today would say "Bob who?" but most of us know better.

Bob Hope was a national treasure, and the world has not been the same since he left us.

Classic Rant #1,030 (August 28, 2013): Tennis Bawl

I am not much of a fan of tennis.

Hitting the ball back and forth really isn't my idea of real sports drama.

But for maybe one day I was a tennis fan, but you have to go back to 1973 for that to have happened.

This was at the height of the woman's liberation movement, and Bobby Riggs, a former Wimbledon and U.S. Open champion, had been mouthing off on every TV show that would have him at the time that he, 55 and long past his prime, could beat any woman at tennis, even champions of the game.

So on Sept. 20, 1973, millions watched as ABC aired his "Battle of the Sexes" match against Billie Jean King, who was decades younger than Riggs and at the peak of her sports prowess.

Riggs lost--I remember that it wasn't even close--and as the villain, most people wanted Riggs to lose anyway.

But now, we find out that the match was probably, err, Riggsed, um rigged.

Now ESPN's "Outside the Lines" show claims that the whole match was fixed because Riggs owed mobsters thousands of dollars in unpaid debt.

According to the report, Riggs purposely did not play his "A" game, and this allowed him to erase his debt.

Allegedly, the assistant golf pro at a Florida country club overheard two mobsters discussing Riggs and what the tennis player had to do before the legendary match.

Riggs' son does not deny that his father knew mobsters, and he doesn't discount the possibility that his father could have thrown the match to erase gambling debt.

However, King, who was in her tennis prime at age 29 then, disputes the entire possibility of the match being thrown, saying something to the effect of "he wanted that match as much as I did." And that is my paraphrase, but that is essentially what she said.

And you know what? King is 100-percent correct, I believe, in her summation of the whole thing.

Look, Riggs was not going to beat her. He was several decades older than her, she was at the height of her game, and there is no way a 55-year-old has-been is going to beat a 29-year-old champion, whether it was male vs. male female vs. female, or male vs. female.

It's just not going to happen.

What the match did was to elevate tennis' level of popularity to perhaps its all-time high.

I am not a tennis fan, but millions are, watching it and playing it regularly. It's sort of like golf in its stature.

Second, it pretty much gave a boost, maybe the last boost, to the then burgeoning women's liberation, or equality, movement.

It showed that women could be as good as men could be. Sure, the situation was pretty much set up for this to happen, but if you were around then, you know how important this match became.

You think today's hype is over the top ...

Anyway, whether Riggs threw the match or not really isn't that important 40 years after the fact.

And he isn't around anymore to give his own take on this.

But it was another one of those times that television drew us all together in high drama that it created itself, one of the several times that it has accomplished this during its 60-plus year history.

One of the earlier times was when the Beatles were on "The Ed Sullivan Show," and even earlier than that, when Elvis was shown from the top up on the same show.

It showed the eternal power of television, and this still exists today, even with the Internet peaking over its shoulder.

Television continues to stand as probably the most popular, and important, mass medium that was ever created, and in its own small way, this tennis match demonstrated that TV could not only show the news, but make its own news too.

And that really is the everlasting importance of this match, not who won or who lost.

Rant #2,384: Here Comes Summer

No, the summer technically is not here yet, but the just-past Memorial Day Weekend pretty much put that summer bug in our heads.

I know that several places in our country are receiving horrific weather right now, but in the northeast, we got just about the nicest Memorial Day weather in recent memory this past weekend and holiday.

It almost always rains on Memorial Day in my neck of the woods, and the temperature is usually in the 60s. Well, this past weekend and holiday were just the opposite of that, as we got almost entirely sunny weather and the temperatures were in the 80s and very low 90s.

It still wasn't beach weather--the water temperatures were only in the 50s--but plenty of people donned their bathing suits and at least tried to get a tan.

Memorial Day, along with a tribute to the troops who made the ultimate sacrifice for our country, pretty much signifies summer to most people, but in reality, we still have to wait until late June for that to actually happen.

But that doesn't mean that we don't prepare for it and wish it was here right now.

It has become a ritual in my family that we bring up the summer clothes out from hiding during this weekend.

We basically switch clothes from the warmer clothes of fall and winter and even part of spring to the warmer clothes of summer, and what we do in my family is that we go down to the basement and bring up the summer clothes, which have been neatly packed away in two crates during the cool periods of the year.

My wife and I lugged the two crates up the stairs to our bedroom, where my wife then took out all the colder weather clothes and replaced them with the warmer weather stuff.

It takes a while to do, but my wife did it as she always does it, with great precision. In addition to our clothes, she also did my son's clothes, too, and now the two crates sit in our room, filled to the gills with cold-weather fare, which we are going to have to bring back downstairs.

The ritual will continue after Labor Day in September, when we will have to lug up the crates again, and replace the winter wear in those crates with the summer wear that we just used for a few months.

I guess we could have lugged the two crates into the basement yesterday, but we decided to leave them where they were. Yesterday, on the actual holiday, we just relaxed.

On the Sunday before the holiday, we visited my father in law at the VA home in Stony Brook, and then met up with my wife's brothers and their wives in Port Jefferson, a big tourist attraction this time of year.

We ate there, it was a fun respite from the same old same old, so yesterday, we did absolutely nothing.

I watched baseball--the Yankees continue to amaze--my wife watched some movies, and my son watched YouTube videos. We didn't barbecue because the deck is a mess and the house is going to be power-washed on the outside in the coming days.

It was a fun throw-away day, and now we all come back to reality.

We all have to go back to work, and the holiday will simply be a pleasant memory.

But at least this year, we were able to have it in grand style, and hopefully this will be a precursor to the real summer, where we can do some swimming and have some barbecues ... and when my family and I can go on vacation and really get away from everything.

So I hope your Memorial Day was as nice as ours was, and onward and upward!

It is time to go back to work.

Classic Rant #1,029 (August 25, 2013): Slight Push

You might remember that a few Rants ago, I wrote about WWE wrestler Darren Young, the first known, active professional wrestler to come out of the closet while still on the active roster of the biggest professional wrestling organization in the world.

I wondered how the WWE would handle his announcement.

Now, I and the rest of the "WWE Universe" knows.

Evidently, Young is being pushed, every so slightly, up the ladder of success.

It has been very low key, which is quite uncommon for the WWE, but it also appears that they are going up the right path with this story.

Young has won his two televised matches since his announcement--one as a tag team with Titus O'Neill, the other as a single wrestler--and that is news in itself, because quite frankly, Young rarely ever won any matches prior to his announcement, either as part of a tag team or as a solo performer.

Part of the reason why WWE is being so low key about this whole thing has to do with the fact that one of its top pay-per-view events of the year intersected the announcement.

SummerSlam, the organization's No. 2 PPV attraction behind Wrestlemania, was held two Sundays ago. Young was not on the card for that event, which had to go down as one of the best PPVs the company has had in some time.

Young was in Los Angeles, like all the WWE roster, for the show, and his announcement probably took some in the organization by surprise, although he has gotten across the board "thumbs up" from the hierarchy of the WWE.

Anyway, now that the promotion for SummerSlam is over, the WWE can see what it can do to boost Young, and they are seemingly being careful in doing that.

They had several choices: keep him the way he was, basically, a losing wrestler; ascend him to the "throne" right away; or let him take baby steps up the ladder, which is the way they chose to do it.

They could have also pushed him as a "gay" wrestler, but they aren't doing that, which I think is a very good thing.

Let him work his way up like all wrestlers are supposed to do, anyway, and let the chips fall where they may.

Boost him by letting him be successful, and by doing that, you make what is happening in the ring seem almost as real as Young's announcement was.

Yes, this is professional wrestling, I know, not necessarily a bastion of truthfulness.

But when you have a real story, one that made national news, you can go with it, but go with it the right way, and I think the WWE has done just that.

And where does that leave Titus O'Neill, his tag team partner?

The former pro football player is almost an ancillary performer with Young now as one half of "The Prime Time Players," but his career can get a boost too.

If he can ascend to one of the tag team leaders with Young, then this will certainly be a good thing for his own career.

I think the WWE has been wondering what to do with O'Neill, who has one of the most imposing presences they have ever had on their roster, but with little or nothing to do.

His partnership with Young might provide just the thing O'Neill needs to ascend to the top himself.

Let's see what happens during the coming weeks, as the WWE can fully focus on this situation.

To me, I think it might just be a fun ride.

Rant #2,383: Hope and Deilverance

We have finally arrived at the precipice of the 2019 summer season with the coming of the Memorial Day weekend.

Many people have off today, have off this weekend, and have off on Monday, the actual holiday.

But with all the sales and barbecues and baseball and jaunts to the beach and fun, have we lost the meaning of what Memorial Day really stands for and signifies?

Let's go back to Rant No. 970, date May 24, 2013, and see exactly what I am talking about, in slightly edited form. What was said six years ago stands true today.

"Coming up on Monday is Memorial Day, the day we honor those who have served, and gave their lives, for our country in the numerous wars we have fought leading up to our country's creation in 1776 and beyond.

Once known as Decoration Day, the holiday falls every year on the last Monday in May.

In recent years--or for as long as I can remember--Memorial Day has taken on a different meaning.

Not to knock our service men and women--who continue to protect our country from unimaginable peril each and every day--but the holiday means so many other things now.

First of all, many of us have off on that day, including, incredibly, myself.

I personally get so few holidays off during the year that I look forward to Memorial Day like a bee looks forward to the next flower it can pollinate.

Memorial Day also signals the beginning of the summer season.

Notice I say "the summer season," because summer actually doesn't come for several weeks after, in late June. But it signals warmth, hot nights and days, and so the holiday is thought of as sort of a gateway to summer and all the fun that that season brings.

And finally, Memorial Day generally signifies the day when many of us, myself included, have our very first barbecue of the year.

Honestly, I can taste those hot dogs right now! I love to barbecue, so if the weather holds up, it will certainly be my family's maiden barbecue of the year.

Many parades are held during this holiday, and most of them are seemingly precursors to barbecues, so even if we honor our war dead--and again, this is not a knock against any of our service people--we gradually move toward family oriented events during the holiday.

This makes Memorial Day one of the most family oriented holidays on the calendar, and a day we can all look forward to.

For me, Memorial Day represents a brief respite from work, and it comes at a very good time.

I hope it does for you too."

So although we are supposed to be honoring our war dead on this holiday, what we are really honoring is our lives, and what we can do, as a result of their ultimate sacrifices.

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

Classic Rant #1,028 (August 24, 2013): Fit To Be Tied

As I have written about numerous times here, I hate to wear ties.

To me, it is a noose around one's neck, just a modern equivalent of when they used to string people up for what they said or what they did, or both.

Well, here is a tie that goes beyond anything I have ever heard of.

This tie I wouldn't have minded owning.

News reports are that a tie that once belonged to Beatle John Lennon sold for around $5,600 at an auction in Liverpool, England this weekend.

The story goes that Lennon gave the black knitted tie to a young fan way back in 1962, a few years before the Fab Four became famous across the globe.

Evidently, the kid he gave it to was onto something, and this kid regularly attended the Beatles' lunchtime sessions at the legendary Cavern Club, the place John, as well as George Harrison, Paul McCartney and Pete Best, and later, Ringo Starr, honed their craft onto future success.

Joyce McWilliams was the fan, and she was sitting on the edge of the stage holding a microphone stand for the boys during rehearsal. McWilliams said it was very warm in the place "and John asked me to lend him a handkerchief to mop his brow with," according to the Liverpool Echo. "He handed it back to me and loosened his tie."

He then gave her the tie, and she had a keepsake for life, until this weekend.

She had just found the tie again when she was cleaning her house.

In the intervening years, McWilliams' mom had actually washed the tie, but she still had that tie buried away in her belongings.

I wonder who bought that tie, and he or she must be somewhat wealthy, to throw around more than $5,000 for a tie.

And how did they authenticate that the tie had been Lennon's?

Heck, that person can have any and all of my ties at any time, and I would authenticate them right on the spot..

I hate them all, including the one I am wearing today, a black number that actually is my "favorite" tie of the bunch.

I guess that is why I am wearing it to honor Monday, the beginning of the dreaded work week.

Heck, I would give it to anybody right off my neck, and you won't have to spend thousands to own it.

But I guess, in the end, it is the neck that counts, and, well, my neck is not as famous or important as Lennon's was.

Except to me, of course.

Rant #2,382: Bits and Pieces

Yes! Bits and Pieces has returned, and returned in all of its glory.

You must remember Bits and Pieces if you are a regular reader of this column. It is a Rant where we look at stories that perhaps do not deserve full Rant treatment, but do deserve at least a passing glance.

And that is what these stories get with Bits and Pieces.

So here goes--!

Massaro's Last Wish: It came out yesterday afternoon that Ashley Massaro, the former WWE wrester/Playboy model/Survivor contestant/local Long Island disk jockey had one last wish, that her brain be donated to science so it could be used in research devoted to concussions.

I don't know if she had a will or her family had something that stated Massaro's desire, but like some football players who have passed or who have committed suicide supposedly due to the after effects of numerous concussions, she decided that she would be part of such research.

It is a noble act, but one wished that she could have been studied while alive, but she took care of that possibility.

Also, wrestlers who had worked with her in the past have set up a GoFundMe page for her funeral, to pay the expenses and to help her daughter in the aftermath of her mother's suicide.

An overall sad ending to an interesting life, but at least Massaro's intentions after life were good.

"The Yankees Win--the Yankees Win!": Look, we know that the New York Yankees are the prime sports organization in North America, if not the world. They don't win the World Series every year, but they compete for that championship year-in and year-out, no matter what the situation.

And this year is simply just incredible, at least thus far.

The Yankees are in first place, the benefit of a generally rag-tag bunch of players, not even the second team, or the third team, but in some cases, the fourth team sparking them to the top of their division.

They lost their ace, Luis Severino, to injury, and they also lost sluggers Aaron Judge and Giancarlo Stanton to injury, and, in fact, they have had more than a dozen players out for extended periods on the injured list this season.

After a rocky start, they now sit on top of their division, and they continue to steamroll the competion with the likes of Luke Voit and Gio Urshela and Cameron Maybin leading the charge.

Regulars Gleybar Torres and Gary Sanchez--the latter himself a member of the injured list earlier this season--have also been on fire, and the Yankees continue to win, win and win some more.

Nobody--and I mean nobody--could have predicted that with all the longer-lasting injuries, that the Yankees would be this successful, and quite honestly, I am sure that people are waiting for the bubble to burst, but there seems to be a new hero every day with this team, which has become the most fun to watch team in baseball and thus far this season, MLB's biggest "feel-good" story of 2019.

Yes, it is great to be 62 years of age and be a life-long Yankees fan, it really is.

Porzingas Not As Nice a Guy As Many Thought He Was: The more we hear about former New York Knick and current Dallas Maverick Kristaps Porzingas, the more distasteful he appears to be.

The NBA player, who hasn't played in nearly two years due to injuries and was one of the cornerstones of the youth movement in the league, and seemingly a nice, intelligent player, has been involved in numerous altercations--both legal and illegal--over the past few months, and a lot has come out since he was dealt from the Knicks to the Mavericks.

He supposedly forced that trade because he didn't think the Knicks respected him enough, even though they gave him ample time to get better and gave him full access to the team facilities. He didn't think they were going anywhere, so he demanded a trade.

He has also been involved in several altercations, including being involved in a brawl where he was perhaps ambushed and another case where a neighbor in the building where he lives is accusing him or rape.

Now it comes out that when Porzingis was demanding a trade from the Knicks, he told them that if they did not trade him within seven days of his demand, he would go back to Europe, breaching his contract and causing what could have been an international incident.

For a team that went 17-65 last season and had numerous headaches because of that record, the last thing this team--which seems to perpetually under a black cloud--needed was a malcontent of this level, and they did trade Porzingis, seemingly just in time and seemingly before all this craziness came out in the wash.

It might stand as the best move the Knicks have made since they gained the No. 1 pick in the draft more than 30 years ago and drafted Patrick Ewing, who became the perfect NBA citizen, one of the best players of his generation.

Porzingis? He may never even play again, and now the tsuris that he is bringing to himself and the NBA is firmly in the seat of the Mavericks.

As a life-long suffering Knicks fan, all I can say is that, finally, "Congratulations! You did the right thing!"

Yes, this was more of a sports-oriented Bits and Pieces than normal, but let's face it: we are in May moving into June and the warmer months, and sports of all kinds heat up right now.

But tune back in tomorrow ... I am sure I will have what to say on something that might tickle your senses.

Me, I think today's Rant was a slam dunk, or a home run, or a 1-2-3 pin.

Now, back to the real world.

Classic Rant #1,027 (August 23, 2013): 18

Today is my son's birthday.

But it's not just any birthday.

Today he is 18 years of age.

In this society, he is now considered a man, with all the responsibilities that go along with being an adult.

He can legally smoke, drink, vote, and go to war.

So he has many responsibilities now, although I seriously doubt that he will do any of those things I named above, except to vote (I hope).

I remember the day he was born.

My wife, who I must say really looked great when she was pregnant, was just about ready to go, but I almost had to force her to go to the hospital.

We got there, and they determined that she wasn't ready just yet, and we had to walk around to get her so.

We did, the doctor proclaimed that he was going on vacation so "this baby will be born today," since he was a couple of days late in making his debut.

And he was born.

And he was so, so tiny, I think he was even smaller than my daughter was when she was born seven years earlier.

Anyway, he has grown up, and now he is a man.

That picture above is a picture of him when he was a bit younger, but if a picture says a thousand words, this one does too.

He just completed his first paying job this year, working in a local camp as a video game expert, where he played video games with the campers.

I told him that that job might be the best job he ever had, doing something all day that he loved. It was like getting paid to pursue your hobby.

Since my son is a special ed kid, and has a learning disability, this is his last year of formal schooling.

He will be looking for work once he gets out of school, and I know it will be difficult, but my wife and I are convinced that he will succeed.

We wish him the very best. He is somewhat immature--I think most kids are today, mainly because of their reliance on the Internet for social activity--and he has that disability, which does hinder him in many ways.

But he is going to make it.

Wow, 18 years old.

I can't believe it.

My wife and I are very, very proud of him, and look forward to his future accomplishments.

Rant #2,381: Sad Eyes

Last week was seemingly a week of death, a week where one obituary of a celebrity was followed by another and then another.

It was good to get out of that week, because the talk of death was getting a bit spooky.

Unfortunately, the death parade did not stop when I stopped talking about it here, and there was another celebrity death that hit some of us pretty hard.

Ashley Massaro died last week. The only reason I did not add her to the death toll I spoke about was that I was awaiting the cause of her death, but at 39 years old, I kind of knew.

Massaro, former WWE wrestler, Playboy model, Survivor contestant and current disk jockey on a local Long Island station, evidently died as a result of a "non-violent action," and when they say that, you know that that means one thing--

Suicide.

She has a teenage daughter, and the daughter confirmed that her mother took her own life. Other outlets have come out with the information that Massaro hung herself.

The daughter said that her mother suffered from severe depression, which was likely brought on by a concussion syndrome.

One can only take so much pounding on the mat, and however phony pro wrestling is, people do get hurt, and some can take the pain better than others.

We are only just now learning about concussions, and what repeated concussions can do to the brain and well being of those that suffer them.

Many former pro footballers have said for years that repeated concussions can stay with you for a lifetime, and greatly impact your behavior even when they are seemingly gone.

Other athletes have had to give up their livelihoods because of these concussions, and athletes have banded together to force the various sports leagues to look at concussions in a more serious light.

Major league baseball, for one, has a concussion protocol in place where if there is even a hint of a possibility that a player has been concussed, he comes right out of the game, is checked over, and if found to be concussed, the player must sit out a minimum number of games, even if the concussion is a minor one.

Massaro had had numerous concussions, and suffered severe depression from these constant hits to the head, and the pain and suffering evidently had reached a point where she could not take it anymore.

She did not come to work, did not call in, and was found dead. A real shame.

Not that I was a great athlete, but I know that I had at least one concussion when I was a kid, but there was no protocol then. You just dusted yourself off and wobbly or not, you continued to play.

My concussion episode was when I was 12 or 13 years old. I was playing in the Rochdale Village Athletic League, and it was a softball league championship game.

It was a really big event in my old neighborhood. Lights were put up so we could play at night, and without any stands to sit in, we must have had dozens of spectators.

Anyway, I was on third base and upon contact by the batter, I ran home.

I ran into the catcher--a kid with a glandular problem who was probably about 300 pounds at the time--and somehow, knocked the ball out of his glove and scored a run.

But in the process, I also knocked myself out, and I mean O-U-T.

I don't know if I was out for a millisecond, a minute or a few minutes, but I must have hit his knee with my head, and I was completely out.

I came to, and I think my team surrounded me as I got up from my stupor. they told me that I had knocked the ball out of the catcher's glove and that I had scored. I was happy, and wobbly as I was, I got up and went out to my position at second base at the end of the inning.

What, me worry?

If this happened today, I would have been taken out of the game immediately, probably on a stretcher by an EMT, and rushed to the hospital. I would be checked for a concussion, and would probably at least stay in the hospital overnight. I would be held out of the next game, at the very least, if I had even the most minor of concussions (this was a championship game, so it was the final game of the season, so this would not have come into play for this particular incident).

I honestly don't remember how I felt right after I came to, but the word concussion was not even uttered by anyone back then.

Not that what I had was so severe, but what about others who have played various games and participated in various activities where they suffered concussions? How many of them just dusted themselves off and got up to do whatever they were doing right after their brain took such a hit?

Obviously, I consider myself really lucky, because although I was knocked out cold, I don't think I have had even the least bit of lingering effects of this impact, if I even had a concussion at all.

But being knocked out cold like I was, I pretty much think that I probably did have a concussion, but it was so minor that it had no lingering effects.

But for others, the effects evidently linger for years after the hit, and evidently, that is what happened to Massaro.

That is why the pro leagues are so, so careful with their concussion protocol today, because we are just learning the lasting effects that severe concussions can bring to those who suffer them.

Massaro, the Long Island girl who made it to the national stage in a variety of things that she did, will definitely be missed. But hopefully, her personal struggles will not be in vain, and will spur even more research into the effects of concussions on those who suffer them.

Classci Rant #1,026 (August 22, 2013): 4,000

There are several numbers that are special in baseball.

61, for Roger Maris' untainted home run total in 1961. His "PED" was cigarettes.

511, for the number of games won by Cy Young. This is a record that nobody ever will even get close to.

56, for the hitting streak that Joe DiMaggio amassed, another one of those records that appears to be safe for the ages.

714, again, the untainted career home run total of Babe Ruth, whose only stimulants were hot dogs, lots of beer and women.

There are others, but those are the major ones.

Yesterday, another magic number was reached, and while it won't sit up there with the statistics I mentioned above, it is something to behold.

Ichiro Suzuki, rightfielder for the New York Yankees, did something that only two other players have ever achieved, and he also did something that no one else has ever achieved.

When he got his 4,000th career hit on Wednesday night during the Yankees' 4-2 win over the Toronto Blue Jays, he joined select company.

Only Pete Rose and Ty Cobb, two of the most talented--and most notorious--players ever to lace up the spikes, are the only other players to reach and go beyond this mark.

But Ichiro, as he is better known, reached the mark in a different fashion than the other two.

While Rose and Cobb did this while playing in the major leagues, Ichiro did it as both a major league player and a player in the Japanese leagues, so it is a combined 4,000.

Sure, some purists would say it was tainted, but he now stands as one of three players to reach this mark as a professional baseball player.

Purists would say that if that is the case, then all professional statistics should be added into career totals, including the minor leagues, which, after all, are professional leagues, too, where players are paid for their efforts.

So let's say Ichiro reached this mark as both a professional major league player in both the U.S. and Japan.

However you put it, that is a lot of hits.

Figure out the math.

You would have to average 200 hits over 20 years to reach 4,000. That shows consistency, staying power, lack of injury, and talent.

And Ichiro, who played the bulk of his career with the Seattle Mariners, is like the Timex watch they used to portray in those old TV commercials, he just keeps on ticking.

Sure, he is not as solid a player as he once was, but even approaching 40 years of age, he can still do it, and do it better than most players.

And unlike both Cobb and Rose, who had notorious reputations--Cobb as a racist and overall nasty person and Rose as a gambler--Ichiro has a persona that everyone loves. Along with teammate Mariano Rivera, he is one of the most revered baseball players of his generation.

So the Hall of Fame beckons when Ichiro's career is over, but when that will be is anyone's guess.

He is so sleek looking, even at this advanced baseball age, that he conceivably could play another five years--and in doing so, actually get to the 3,000 hit mark in the Major Leagues, which would probably legitimize what he has done both here and in Japan for those naysayers who look down at what he has already accomplished.

And if he could get past Rose's 4,256 hit total, that would really be something special, although again, people will look down on it, as it would be simply a "combined" record.

That may be true, but that would be some accomplishment.

So a tip of the cap to Ichiro, one of the best players of his generation.

With all the turmoil surrounding the Yankees this season, I am happy that he is on my team.

Rant #2,380: Go Ask Alice

Yesterday, we spoke about the epic film "Midnight Cowboy," and how Hollywood's permissiveness beginning in 1968--when the movie ratings system was first used--allowed for such a movie to be made by a major studio and heralded as one of the best films of all time.

The film was rated X back then, and 50 years ago, in 1969, X was a legitimate movie rating, along with G, M, and R.

M, for mature audiences, was later replaced by GP, then PG, and later, it was joined by PG-13 and NC-17, the latter a movie rating that is rarely used, as it is thought to be the kiss of death to any movie that garners such a rating.

But back in 1968 and 1969, the X rating was reserved for Hollywood films that were thought to be too intense, sexually or otherwise, for the general viewing public. These movies were not pornographic, but what happened is that the adult movie industry co-opted the X rating for itself, with its movies attaining XXX status, and thus, the Hollywood rating of X became moot, and later was changed to NC-17.

Anyway, prior to the movie ratings being instituted in 1968, from the late 1950s through to the late 1960s, there were films being made not by the major studios, but by independent filmmakers who were obviously looking at the world through different glasses than the major studios were.

These movies, many in black and white, were looking at prostitution, homosexuality, drug use and other adults-only themes that the major studios wouldn't touch, couldn't touch, or at least, could not be delved into full throttle like these independent movies could do, with no censors hanging over their shoulders.

These films were never submitted to any legitimate movie censors, and for good reason, with lots of sex (nudity mainly), violence and other "perversions" that the censors would have wiped out in a moment's time.

Some of the most violent ones were called "roughies" for just that reason, and they are far more gritty than anyone would believe a film could be just prior to the launch of the ratings.

Many of these films came out of New York, and yes, they were very low budget affairs that used Manhattan as a landscape for their grittiness.

And many were nothing but exploitation films, pushing the envelope as far as they could without going right over the edge. Many of these films were shown in Times Square along with wholly sexual fare, and were resigned to the scrap heap when Hollywood started to cover the same taboo subjects.

But these films still exist, and some can even be found on YouTube and through outlets like Something Weird. I have to say that I have seen several of these movies, and they do provide a view of the world that is just so different than what Hollywood was putting out at the time that yes, they do appear almost quaint at this point in time, but also fascinating in their own way.

One such film that I recently watched was called "Alice in Acidland," which has a 1968 date on it but simply from the dress and hairstyles seen in the film, it was probably made in 1966 or so. It also goes under several names, which was not unusual for these types of movies, because once a film name was known, respective town boards would seize the film before it could be shown in their municipality. If they didn't know the name, they didn't know that it was a film that they didn't want shown in their environs; thus, a lot of these types of films have more than one name.

Following the formula of most of these films, you had the young, pretty innocent, whose life was full or cornbread and hay, who comes to the big city, in this case, to go to college.

This young pretty falls into the "wrong" crowd, and ends up being so hooked on dope that she cannot keep her clothes on, seemingly whenever this group gets together.

And who lures her into this life of debauchery and crime? Well, a teacher, of course, a lesbian woman in her late 30s or 40s who preys on pretty young things like this, gets them hooked on dope, and satisfies her needs for companionship and control all in one fell swoop.

This particular film, directed by Donn Greer and written by Gertrude Steen (no, not Gertrude Stein, and probably a pen name anyway for a male writer), starred Julia Blackburn as Alice, and Roger Gentry.

As was the norm for these types of movies, there is virtually no dialogue between the characters, just a narrator describing the action, which amounts to several scenes of topless women and men who only get down to their skivvies while they are making out.

The film, which runs for less than an hour but of which I have read that there is a longer version that actually features full frontal nudity but not of the XXX kind, is highly exploitative, but the black and white film's last five minutes or so are actually pretty good, as it follows Alice, now fully hooked on drugs, going through a drug trip.

The screen goes from black and white to color, and the 1960s color really hits you over the head, bright as can be with some camera tricks thrown in so you can almost join Alice as she goes through a trip that eventually sends her to the lunatic asylum.

But generally, the acting is terrible, the scenes go on and on without end, the sex scenes are as exciting as watching paint dry, and a movie like this makes Russ Meyer "bosoms" films look like "Gone With the Wind."

No, this is not "Midnight Cowboy," but this is what underground films were all about back then.

You can actually view this film on YouTube at https://youtu.be/FNotr3-Pruc.

Say what you want, but such a film, even though not of the high standards of Hollywood films of the time, does pack some punch, and certainly, Tinseltown directors, writers and producers were simply chomping at the bit prior to 1968, wanting to do similar films with better actors, better stories and bigger budgets, but the censors would not let them.

Once the movie ratings were instituted, independent filmmakers pretty much put out whatever they had to try to get the last gasp of these types of films, and certainly "Alice in Acidland" was part of this environment.

It would soon be totally replaced by Hollywood films that pushed the envelope, such as "Midnight Cowboy," and Times Square was then the bastion of XXX fare only.

It was an interesting time in cinema, and movies from this period are worth a look, if only to see the films that led up to the ratings system being created, and how Hollywood responded.

Classic Rant #1,025 (August 21, 2013): TV's Old Shows Are the Best Shows

I love classic TV, and I love classic situation comedies.

They were well written, well cast, and they dealt with everyday problems that we all go through at one time or another.

Whether they were realistic or not was up to the viewer. But the values portrayed in these shows were those that I believe in, values that have helped shaped me to become an at least somewhat responsible adult.

And right now, there are a virtual cornucopia of channels on TV whose very backbone is based on these old shows, many in black and white.

First, you have MeTV, which shows a full range of not just sitcoms, but also dramatic shows from the 1950s to the 1970s.

You can watch shows like "Leave It To Beaver" and "The Beverly Hillbillies" on this channel, mixed in with shows like "MASH" and "Columbo."

Next, you can turn the channel to Antenna TV, which also has a full gamut of classic TV programming, mainly from the 1950s and 1960s, and later in the day, from the 1970s and early 1980s.

"The Monkees" and "Gidget" are standard fare on this station, and they mix in lots of movies from the era and other programming.

There are other channels that show classic TV through much of their programming day, and advertisers have seen that they can promote their products readily on these stations.

Word is that there are many more such channels in the works, and over the next few years, viewers will actually have a choice between stations that show specific eras of classic TV shows, from the 1950s to the 1980s.

That should be fun, and I am certainly looking forward to the 1960s channel, which hopefully will show my favorite sitcoms from the era I grew up in.

Right now, MeTV and Antenna TV certainly satiate my appetite for this type of programming.

Case in point is what happens during weekdays in my house.

As I am writing this, I am getting ready to record "My Three Sons," the classic TV sitcom,, starring Fred MacMurray, revolving around the Douglas family, first of fictional Bryant Park and later of California.

MeTV is currently showing the color episodes, the shows that ran on CBS from 1965 to 1972, when the family moved to California and they welcomed their first female member of the household, Katy, played by the beautiful Tina Cole.

The black and white episodes of this show, when it ran on ABC from 1960-1965, aren't part of this package, but to me, the color episodes are the real "classic" episodes of this sitcom, as these were the episodes I watched first-run when they were originally on.

Later on in the morning, before I go to work, I flip the channel to Antenna TV, and I record "Bachelor Father," starring John Forsythe, which concerns the Gregg family from Los Angeles.

When I say family, it really is the extended family of Greggs, as lawyer Bentley cares for his niece, Kelly, and the household is run by Peter, the house boy.

This show ran from 1957 to 1962, and it holds the distinction of being the only sitcom in TV history to be first run on all three networks. The show pretty much runs out of order on the station, so one day you get Kelly as an early teenager, the next day you get her as an engaged young lady.

Anyway, that is how it goes in my house every morning, one classic TV show after another, and it gives me something to watch when I get home from a busy day at work.

Why are these shows so popular?

I really believe that people today are searching for their values. Our world is so caught up in being politically correct all the time that we have lost that sense of wonder, that sense of the family unit, that sense of family, period.

The two shows I mentioned do not feature the typical families at its nucleus, but they are families nonetheless.

And while today's sitcoms feature families, they are more often than not completely dysfunctional. The humor is generally found in their faults, not their virtues.

I do believe that people are getting completely turned off by this stance, and are turning back to the shows they watched as younger people to get back to where they were and where they want to be today.

And that is why MeTV and Antenna TV are such popular stations, and a whole gamut of new stations just like them are being created to feed that thirst for not just classic TV, but classic values.

And that is good, isn't it?

Rant #2,379: Everybody's Talkin'

Yes, I overslept again.

I just can't get up in the morning at the time that I want to.

But here I am, better late than never.

My family and I had a pretty calm weekend, really nothing special happened.

On Saturday night, I fell asleep early only to wake up early too. It amounted to a nap, nothing more, and after taking one for nearly two hours, I was not tired anymore, so I got up from the bed, went on the computer for a while, and then went into the living room to watch some television before deciding it was time to go to sleep.

As I do in such situations, I went from channel to channel to try to find something to keep me interested, but I could find nothing until I got to some of the movie channels, and I saw that on a channel I never watch--I have no idea what channel it was to this moment, but more on that later--they were showing "Midnight Cowboy," the 1969 drama about the underbelly of Manhattan that stands as the only X-rated film to win a Best Picture award among its three Academy Awards.

This would mark the third time that I saw the film: in the mid 1970s, the local ABC affiliate here showed a heavily censored version of the film during late-night time (like 3 a.m. or so) that to me at least, made absolutely no sense, because it was so cut up (I am sure the time period further dulled my senses when I watched this film).

The second time I saw the film was in the early 1980s, when I rented it from my local video store. I found the movie to be very good, very captivating, and I was happy that I could make a summation now that I saw the full film.

So I had not seen the movie in more than 30 years when I tuned in on late Saturday night going into Sunday morning.

Oddly, as the movie opened, I saw that the film had subtitles in Spanish. I kind of thought about it for a moment, and then simply decided I would go with the flow, so to speak, as the film being shown was in English.

And that I did, and once again, for nearly two hours, the film took me to another place, another time, and another world.

And the film, directed by John Schlesinger and based on a novel by James Leo Herlihy, has plenty of historical significance, which you could basically see right away.

Taking the roughness of the New York underground film world and bringing it to Hollywood, the movie touched on themes that prior to 1968 or so could only be seen in these New York underground films, many of which could only be seen on bills with XXX-rated movies that were being produced in Manhattan during the mid to late 1960s.

These underground films, often known as "roughies," touched on many topics that Hollywood would and could never touch prior to this era, such as violence, all types of sex, homosexuality, etc.

When the Hollywood movie code was relaxed in 1968--and movies got ratings, including G, M, R, and X--filmmakers could explore areas that they never could touch earlier on, and "Midnight Cowboy" was one of the earliest films during that period to do just that.

The Manhattan profiled in the film was not glitzy and glamorous as earlier films had portrayed the Big Apple. It was dirty, unglamorous, and most importantly, unforgiving.

And that was the situation that cowboy Joe Buck, a new transplant from Texas portrayed by Jon Voigt, and Rico "Ratso" Rizzo, played by Dustin Hoffman, a fellow from the Bronx with a limp and a cough that just will not go away, found themselves in.

Buck has left plenty of baggage back home in Texas when he decided to come to New York, and Rizzo already had plenty of baggage when the two met as Rizzo hustled Buck.

The two become pals, with Buck becoming Batman and Rizzo becoming Robin, but this Gotham City dynamic duo did not fight crime, they fought hunger and desperation.

In order to survive, Buck did the only thing he knew how to do really well with both men and women, and as the picture progressed, you can see that his affection for his lame friend was growing by the minute. Rizzo needed Buck to bring in whatever money he could while he himself scrounged and stole to keep things going, while Buck needed Rizzo to keep him grounded and give him a purpose.

The two share a squalid apartment in a tenement that will soon be knocked down by the city, and Rizzo's health continues to disintegrate as the building nears demolition. Buck uses whatever money he can get from his hustling activities to buy food and medicine for Rizzo, and then the two decide to leave Manhattan for what at least Rizzo feels will be greener pastures for the two in Florida.

Although by this point, Rizzo is very sick, they somehow scrounge up enough money to travel to Florida on a bus, but the dream becomes reality in a strange sort of way, which I am not going to reveal here.

As when I originally saw the film, I found the ending unsatisfying and kind of unbelievable, but that being said, you can see how this movie was really a true groundbreaker, and to this date, it probably featured the best and most defining performances on film by both Voigt and Hoffman.

The film was X-rated back in 1969, and included sequences that back then, could be considered shocking. Not much is actually shown, but today, the movie might garner a PG or maybe a PG-13 rating.

Also in the cast and each playing sleazy characters were Brenda Vaccaro, Sylvia Miles, and John McGiver, and also one of the main stars of the film is the Manhattan of the late 1960s, in all its glory and despair.

The soundtrack is also one of the film's stars, with Harry Nilsson singing Fred Neil's "Everybody's Talkin'" to punctuate one of the themes of the film: even in the one of the most celebrated cities in the world, not everyone's voice is being heard.

The other theme of the film is that everyone has an angle, everybody wants something from those willing to provide it, you just have to know when and where to get it.

Anyway, I watched the movie, and it was like a revelation, like I had never seen it before. It kept me going, got me to thinking, and kept me glued to the TV for nearly two hours.

When the film ended, I discovered that I was watching a Spanish language movie channel that, rather then show dubbed Hollywood features, shows these films with Spanish subtitles.

Very interesting indeed.

I would highly recommend this film, even with its still-flimsy ending.

It was a great experience, even the third time around.

Classic Rant #1,024 (August 20, 2013): Ashes To Ashes

"Ashes to ashes
Funk to funky
We know Major Tom's a junkie ... "

Those are some of the lyrics to David Bowie's 1980 song "Ashes to Ashes," and they really have not that much to do with what I am talking about today, but at the same time, they kind of fit in.

I read where singer Richie Havens' ashes are going to be scattered at the Woodstock, New York, site where he made a name for himself 44 years ago.

Havens died a few weeks ago, and since this is something of a sacred site for music and counter-culture folk back then and now, it seems to be only fitting that his ashes get scattered there.

And then there is the case of Dick Van Dyke, venerable actor, singer and all-around showman, who recently got married again, but more recently survived a flaming car.

He was rescued from the car, and the approaching 90-year-old performer appears to be doing fairly well after this mishap.

Fire, as the cavemen found out many thousands of years ago, is a wonderful thing to have as long as you know how to contain it.

Once you lose that prowess, fire is a horrible thing, and can kill and maim people, wipe out wildlife and forests, and, well, is just plain dangerous.

Remember when you were a kid, and your mother told you not to play with matches?

She didn't say that to hear the sound of her voice. She meant what she said.

I have been in a burning car one time, if I recall correctly.

When I was a kid, I was taken back and forth to my bowling league by a young guy, older than me of course, who had a car.

The car wasn't that great, and if I remember correctly, one time, the engine exploded, and we were left stranded on the way to, or maybe it was from, the bowling league on one unfortunate Sunday morning.

And as far as my ashes, Jews generally don't get cremated. We go into the ground in one piece, or at least we are supposed to.

Or course, that is changing, and Jews do get cremated today.

But I don't want my remains to sit in an urn somewhere. I want to go into the ground, and have a resting place near my wife.

We have been paying for years as part of a burial society that we belong to, to guarantee that my wife and I have burial plots ready for us when the time comes.

It is in an orthodox Jewish cemetery, because my grandfather started the society years ago, and he was orthodox.

So as it stands, my wife and I will be buried in this cemetery, but bowing to orthodox Jewish tradition, I will be buried with the men, and she with the women.

Sure, I would prefer to be buried next to her, but this way, we can both visit each other in the great beyond, have a destination to go to when the time comes.

Sure, that's what I tell her.

But between you and me, I would prefer to be buried right next to her, but I can't change tradition.

And isn't it interesting how this discussion has morphed into one about how one wants to go when their time is up?

Heck, I figure I have at least 30 to 40 more years on this earth, so I "have a lot of living to do."

And that song is from "Bye Bye Birdie," and Dick Van Dyke was in both the stage and movie version of that musical.

But Richie Havens had nothing to do with it, so I guess we can't come fully full circle with this blog today.

At least I tried.

Rant #2,376: Sock It To Me

After all the deaths that we have discussed this week, I wanted to relax a bit, I wanted to laugh, and I wanted to not turn off the thinking cap, but maybe, just maybe, turn it on the "low" mode, just for a little while, at least.

I had heard that Netflix was premiering this week the 50th anniversary "Rowan and Martin's Laugh-In" special, so I thought that I had the perfect tonic for the negativity that those obituaries and talk about death brought to the table.

Sorry to say, but "Still Laugh-In: The Stars Celebrate" pretty much misses the mark completely. Not only is the show two years late--the initial special on NBC was in 1967--but the repulsive nature of much of the show is a turn off to any fan of the ground-breaking show from way back when.

Based on what I saw on the show, the writers, actors, and sorry, even creator/producer George Schlatter, have no idea why this show hit it off with the public the way it did more than 50 years ago.

Beyond the special's filthy language and Trump bashing, the show does feature a few very good segments, and the editing between new segments and old--in particular in "The Party" sequences--is quite good.

Beyond that, you have people, many of whom were not around when the show was new, talking about the influence it had on them and on society, and I guess they read cue cards very well.

Hosts Tiffany Haddish and Neil Patrick Harris are interesting choices for that role that at one time was that of Dan Rowan and Dick Martin, but although I will give them kudos for trying, they just don't capture the fancy as hosts of this show.

In fact, while Harris does appear to be giving it his all, Haddish appears to be kind of one foot in, one foot out in her role, and I read one response to her performance that was posted on Facebook saying that she appeared to be, well, let's say, a bit soused on the show--and later, she eats some supposedly marijuana-infused candy, so it could be true.

Lots of clips of the original show are used, and it looks like they went all the way into the fourth season of the show, since clips do show the likes of Dennis Allen and Barbara Sharma, but where is Alan Sues? Was he one of the troupe of actor/comedians who made the show so memorable? Of course he was, but I did not see him at all on this tribute show, which is a crime in itself.

And where were Joanne Worley and Ruth Buzzi?

Lily Tomlin was one of the top-billed stars of the show, and she was billed separately from Worley and Buzzi--in fact, she is listed as one of the three "stars" of the show, along with Haddish and Harris. I guess this was done because she is thought to be more "current" than the other two ladies are, and the fact is that Buzzi is pretty much retired after a long career and Worley is still active, but not as out front as Tomlin is ... and Tonlin is one of the stars of Netflix's "Grace and Frankie" show.

However, to separate Tomlin from the other two really is an insult to Worley and Buzzi, two of the original cast members on the show, and in particular, it is an insult to Buzzi, the only one of the troupe who was with the show from beginning to end (Rowan and Martin obviously were, as was Gary Owens, but they were not really part of the troupe of talented performers who helped make the show so memorable).

And where was Goldie Hawn? Has she gotten too big for her own boots, or did she pass on appearing on the show for other reasons?

Other than "The Party" segments, which with the editing were better than just about anything else on the rest of the show, the only segment that really stood out was the "Two Ritas" segment featuring Rita Wilson and completely ageless Rita Moreno. Interspersed with original cast members in performance, this segment was really electric, and since it was held early in the hour-long show, it gave great promise to the rest of the program, billed as a "Netflix Movie" believe it or not.

But it wasn't meant to be.

Another segment featuring Snoop Dogg and Michael Rappaport about--what else?--marijuana not only fell completely flat, but it was truly repulsive, as was the segment where Bill Maher gave the "Flying Fickle Finger of Fate" award to President Trump. Funny, in the original show, President Nixon was hit over the head repeatedly--beyond his famous "Sock It To Me" appearance--but it was done with a modicum of respect, at the very least for the office of president. Bill Maher dumps on Trump worse than an overloaded pigeon dumps on your car, and it, too, misses the point of the original show entirely:

Dump on everyone, and dump on them as equally as possible, and do it satirically and as nicely as possible.

Even some of the performers mentioned this very real aspect of the show, but on this special, I did not see it being applied.

The current performers that were featured were pretty weak, and I certainly didn't know who most of them were as the audience hooted and hollered when they came on screen, often drowning out what they were saying.

And short shrift was given to the likes of Judy Carne, Eileen Brennan, Arte Johnson, Henry Gibson, the aforementioned Sues, and yes, even Rowan and Martin themselves. Heck, even Robin Williams has a very short segment, and he was only in the failed revival of the show, not the original program.

And yes, the show even features revisionist history, voiced by Schlatter himself. In what could have been an interesting revelation if it were true, Schlatter claims on the show that one reason that the cast was assembled like it was was because he took "performers who couldn't do sitcoms" and placed them in the troupe of the show.

This is so untrue that it is ridiculous. Among the original cast members who appeared regularly with supporting or starring roles on sitcoms before Laugh-In were Buzzi, Hawn, Johnson, Carne, Dick Martin himself, and later, Larry Hovis and Richard Dawson were often billed on the show as "they guys from Hogan's Heroes," so what exactly is he talking about?

This show played out like a pilot for a new revival of the show, but based on what I saw, I hope it does not happen.

All in all, with a little bit of good mixed with a lotta bit of bad, I would give this a rating of a "D," so it barely passed the grade.

Watch it if you dare, but do not expect the original "Laugh-In." That appears to be a "lightning in the bottle" program, and clearly, it would be really difficult to do such a show in 2019, even though some of the same problems we as a society had in 1969 we still have now.

Again, watch it if you dare. I am glad I did, but boy, did I expect better.

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

Classic Rant #1,023 (August 19, 2013): Getting "Crabbed"

I love to watch movies.

Since I was a little kid, I just love to watch films on both TV and in the theater.

It brings me to places that I will probably never visit, and puts me in situations that I will never experience.

However, most of the movies now are high-priced garbage, and rather than go to the movies and spend $9 and up on a movie, I would rather sit at home and watch these films.

And honestly, I still watch movies from a different time.

The movies today almost completely turn me off, but once in a while, I am surprised, but not that often.

This weekend, with a pretty barren Saturday night after working early Saturday morning and having a busy post-work couple of hours, my wife and I turned to NetFlix, because we could not find anything on TV to kill an hour or two before we went to bed.

After looking for a long time, my wife asked me if I wanted to watch a golden oldie from 1957, probably one of the worst movies ever made: "Attack of the Crab Monsters."

And I said yes very, very quickly, because this movie and I have a history that dates back to about 1964, or seven years after it was originally released.

Just a little background: "Attack of the Crab Monsters" is an el cheapo classic from drive-in movie king Roger Corman. It stars a whole list of B actors--Richard Garland, Pamela Duncan,who gives her best Annette Funicello imitation without the talent, look or figure for it, and Russell Johnson, who works with the radio here, which gave him the perfect experience to be the Professor on "Gilligan's Island" several years later.

Anyway, the plot, or what there is of it, is that several people get trapped on this island, which is run by giant crabs, created due to fallout from the atomic bomb. The crabs kill almost everybody on the island, and take over their souls in the process. By doing this, they are able to talk, verbalize what they are doing, and plot to take over not only the island, but the world.

Yes, it is that bad.

But it is so bad that it's good, and Johnson is actually the hero of the entire movie, as the guy who sacrifices his life to thwart the evil plot of the giant crabs.

Now that you know the entire story, here is my history with it.

As I said earlier, I have loved the movies since seeing my first film in the theater, "Ben Hur," in 1959 when I was two years old (I probably told that story in this blog years ago, but I won't go into it now).

Anyway, I used to watch movies on my black and white TV as I was getting older, pretty much unsupervised, because I wasn't watching anything so terrible, mainly "The Wizard of Oz" and that type of thing.

But like many young children at the time, I was starting to watch horror and science fiction movies, which were being packaged on shows like "Chiller Theater" and later, "Creature Features" here on New York television in the early to late 1960s.

These shows showed some absolutely horrible films, but to this impressionable kid, I ate each and every one of them up, whether it was "The Attack of the 50-Foot Woman" or whatever.

I loved these movies.

But again, I was a little kid.

Evidently, one day, "Attack of the Crab Monsters" was on, and I watched it, but for some reason, the film stuck with me like glue.

From what I remember, I had terrible, terrible nightmares about this film, with the claw coming out and literally absorbing the people on the island, I guess.

I simply couldn't take it.

And my mother, as I remember it, barred me from watching these movies anymore because of the nightmares I had from this one film.

I remember it so vividly. It lasted several months, and at that point, evidently I was cured, because I went back to watching these films without any problem whatsoever form there on in.

The fun of Saturday night is that I really hadn't seen the movie in years and years, and now looking at it as an adult, I could see why I was so taken in by it.

Its simplicity--remember I was six or seven years old when I had those nightmares--was probably its strong point. I could have been three years old and understood what was going on.

The acting is atrocious, the script is even worse, and why does Pamela Duncan's character bring such elaborate negligees to this remote island (a precursor to the situation on "Gilligan's Island," I guess)?

Anyway, the movie is so bad it's laughable now, but way back when, this film absolutely terrified me.

And to this day, I don't like crabs, don't eat crab legs, and don't want anything to do with them, so I guess it has had a longer-lasting effect on me than I could ever imagine.

It is so funny how youth works.

It is a great time of your life, but would you want to relive it again?

Not if I had nightmares like I used to get from this movie.