Rant #3,063: Just a Song Before I Go

We all age.

That is a fact of life, and whether we are just you and me or someone who grabbed the ring of fame during their lives, nobody stays young forever.

And now we have two more ladies who at one time were TV icons, of some sort, who have left us, one seemingly right after the other.

Lisa Loring, who played Wednesday, the daughter of Gomez and Morticia Addams on the original “The Addams Family” TV show, passed away from a massive stroke the other day, at 64 years of age.

And then we had Cindy Williams, who played Shirley on “Laverne and Shirley,” who passed away after a brief illness at age 75.

When somebody who has impacted my youth passes away, I try to give a different angle to their lives when I write about them here at the Blog, and do it from my own perspective—making what I write different from what you get in your standard obituary--so I am going to start with Williams first.

Originally cast as two “floozies” on “Happy Days,” Williams, and Penny Marshall as Laverne, so captivated viewers that their characters were spun off into their own show, which lasted several seasons and actually was the top-rated show during a few of those seasons.

Williams and Marshall were said to not really have gotten along during the run of the show, and Williams actually left the show in its final season when she claimed that the producers of the show would not accommodate her for her pregnancy.

She left to pursue other projects, leaving Marshall to shoulder the entire load.

Williams had a connection to another TV icon of the time, Goldie Hawn, as she was married to Hawn’s ex, Bill Hudson, who had a well-publicized poor relationship with Hawn after their divorce. Suffice it to say, Hawn and Williams were not the best of friends.

Later, Williams and Marshall reconciled, and they worked together again on a “Laverne and Shirley” reunion special.

Now, both Williams and Marshall are gone, so I guess they are singling “Schlimezel Schlimazel, Hofenfeffer Incorporated” together in the sky.

Loring’s story is another one for the books, and it goes well beyond “The Addams Family.”

She was cast in the show after appearing on a few other TV sitcoms of the time, and while her character Wednesday was never the main focus of the show—John Astin and Carolyn Jones as Gomez and Mortician, respetively, were always the main focus—she did make quite an impression on audiences, even in such a small role as the pouty, death-obsessed daughter of the strange duo.

She made such an impression on viewers that subsequent “The Addams Family” projects have pretty much focused on the Wednesday character, making Christina Ricci and most recently, Jenna Ortega, huge stars.

Loring never reached real stardom with that original Wednesday role, but her life was even more interesting than that role ever could be.

As she got older, she moved into other roles, with her looks and acting ability making her a natural for soap operas, and she appeared on several of them in the 1970s, but her own real life was a real soap opera.

She was married several times—the first time at age 15—but most prominently, she was married to porn star Jerry Butler for five years.

During those years, 1987 to 1992, Loring and Butler became ubiquitous on television, but more on the talk shows of the day rather than in acting roles, as they played out their marital difficulties on the air to millions of viewers.

Butler, the bisexual actor who appeared in hundreds of XXX-rated films—and some regular Hollywood films too—had a sex addiction, and even during their tumultuous marriage, he could not control his urges, and all of this was played out on shows like “Donahue,” where Loring tired to reason with her husband about his infidelities, with both men and women, while they were married.

They never reconciled, and when they divorced after five years of marriage, Loring pretty much faded from view, until the announcement of her death.

And when talking about icons who have recently left us, I would be remiss if I didn’t include David Crosby in that discussion.

Personally, unlike the other two I spoke about today, I was never a big fan of Crosby, although I did kind of like the Byrds and Crosby, Stills, Nash (and Young)—the latter to a lesser extent--the two bands he gained fame in.

Too many drugs, too many near-death experiences, too much in a life that featured excess upon excess.

But most people gave Crosby second, third, fourth and fifth chances, and he seemed to always come through.

But there are only so many chances that even this cat could muster, and he finally succumbed the other day at age 81.

Williams, Loring and Crosby all made a name for themselves—positive or otherwise—during their lifetimes, and their past work will stay with us now that they are gone.

R.I.P.

Rant #3,062: Guilty Until Proven Innocent

I do not know how to approach the latest police demonstration of force, one which led to the death of a young man who on the surface, seemed to be the All-American boy.

Tyre Nichols seemed to be pretty much the opposite of many of those other victims in these police-involved deaths.

We are being told that he was enigmatic, friendly, very much into his skating, and a fine young man who was going to make it in this world.

He had two parents who brought him up the right way, and they were still a presence in his life to the day he died.

But something happened, something that led to tragedy.

Five Memphis, Tenn., police officers stopped Nichols because he was “driving erratically,” which we have yet to have spelled out as to what this actually means in this case.

Anyway, the five cops—part of a division specifically set up to quell street crimes—pulled him over, and then all hell seemed to break loose, leading to a beating that resulted in Nichols’ death.

This incident brings up other similar incidents—including the Rodney King episode of a generation ago--but this one appears to so different than that one that you really cannot compare the two.

King was a known troublemaker, while this kid appeared to not be one.

And in the latest incident, all of the five police officers who have since been fired and arrested for their actions are black.

Now for those looking to start fires, you have a lot of gas with this latest incident, but one thing you don’t have is the “systemic racism” charge … you have something much worse.

I have heard people blurt out on the news shows and write on social media that the most disturbing thing about this entire incident is that the five police officers involved were all black and they enacted their rage against a fellow black man.

These people said that makes it all the more worse, black against black, as if black cops should automatically give black perpetrators a break, because they are of the same race.

Worse yet, they say that black cops who put on the uniform automatically take on the characteristics of white cops, or the oppressees becoming the oppressors simply by putting on a police uniform.

This is just so racist that I cannot believe that people actually believe this nonsense.

The main theme here is that there are good cops and bad cops and they span the race line.

I would say that 99 percent of police are as good as they can be, honest to the core and realizing how important their jobs are to the community that they police.

But there is that 1 percent—black and white and yellow and brown officers—who don’t value their badge and their jobs very highly, and abuse the privilege of being police officers.

Is that what we have here? What does this have to do with “brothers” giving one of their own “brothers” a break, as I have heard and read some people say?

There is disturbing video of the lasted incident, but we all know that things go on in such incidents that are never captured on video, because while video does show a lot of the scene, because of placement and other issues, video cannot show everything.

And that is the five cops’ defense, that what is not shown on the video demonstrates why they had to go to such great lengths to subdue Nichols.

They claim that not only did he run away—which is clearly shown on the video—but that the reason that he was beaten to a pulp is that he reached for one of the officer’s guns, which is not shown on the video.

And in this case, two of the officers’ video camera did not work or weren’t turned on, so what you have is less than what should be out there to look at to see what really happened and why.

There clearly had to be something that forced the police officers—five of them, not just one—to do what they did, but based on the video alone, it appears that they simply beat this guy to a pulp for reasons beyond the scope of the available video.

Something had to set them off—was it simply overheated testosterone or did something happen that is not shown on the video?

The cops have already been convicted by the media and much of the public—I actually heard a news reporter say flat out that the cops “murdered” this young man, which is just so wrong to say at this point in time—and the five accused officers will have their day in court to prove what they did and why they did it.

And the last time I looked, this country has been built upon the belief of “innocent until proven guilty,” and there is just so much more to this story that the rapidity that some have convicted the police in the court of public law is alarming.

Protests have sprung up in some major cities, and while the family of the young man have asked for peaceful protests, there has been some violence, including in New York City, where there were arrests for some violent acts including the destruction of a police car by a supposed protestor.

And yes, the race mongers of the world have now come out in force, just craving the scent of another racist, anti-police opportunity, including the Rev. Al Sharpton, who will deliverer the eulogy for the young man during the funeral.

Sorry, the family asks for calm and peace during the protests, but then allows this generation’s No. 1 race monger to perform the eulogy for their son?

That action doesn’t speak for calm and peace in my book; you don’t allow a rabble rouser to do this unless you want to pour gas on an already burning flame.

The bottom line is this: with the media and the court of public opinion already demonizing these five police officers in a story with as many holes in it as a slice of rancid Swiss cheese, will the cops be able to get a fair trial …

And what really happened during this incident, beyond what we see on the police video?

That is really what will bring true justice to this case, and that is what is most important here, not jumping to conclusions based on a police video that probably doesn’t show everything we need to know before convicting these cops like they already have been in the court of public opinion.

And like in other such incidents, if they are found to be guilty, they will get theirs, but they will get theirs by a judge and a jury of their peers, not a lynch mob that is simply looking for blood like thirsty vampires on the prowl.

Rant #3,061: Gas Money

It is finally Friday, but since Friday is part of the work week, Friday is just another day that we have to get through to reach our goal—to get to the weekend.

Me, I have my usual day of work, driving my family back and forth to the various places they have to be, and that is pretty much it for me, another full day as a semi-retired old fogey.

And when I look at the current gas prices and see where they are going during the next few months, it makes me feel every year of my old fogeydom.

When I got my driver’s license as a 17 year old in 1974, gas was 67 cents a gallon … yup, less than a dollar per gallon, which to this teenager, was still a bit expensive, because I was now paying for gas for my car—my dad’s old yellow taxi—and it was taking money away from my purchases of records and other things.

But now, as a 65-year-old old fogey, gas has jumped about 70 cents in two weeks at one station that I used to frequent, and I filled my tank on Wednesday at a different station, where gas was $3.27 a gallon … and that particular station is now at $3.33 the last time I looked.

And I read yesterday that gas in New York State should rise to at least $4 a gallon by April, which is just a wonderful birthday present for me, as I turn 66 years young at the end of that month.

At least in New York State, the reasons for the rising gas prices are pretty obvious.

All the local and state taxes that were taken out of the price last year to make it easier for consumers to pay for the gas have been put back on, so tax amnesty is over,

And people have adjusted their driving habits, and they simply aren’t using their cars as much as they used to, so when the need is down, the price goes up.

And you just know that unless something is done by our federal, state and local leaders, the gas that costs us $4 a gallon in April will probably cost us $5 a gallon by the summer.

And in my situation, gas is chomping away at my money that I get from my work and from Social Security, the former of which I am frozen to make only a certain amount of money because I retired early and the latter of which was adjusted for inflation for 2023 but somehow doesn’t cut it.

I really don’t mind taking my son back and forth to work, but that chore, and all the other driving I do during the week, the month and the year, have reached—and in some months exceeded—the amount of driving that I did when I was working full time and had to drive back and forth to my job five days a week.

In fact, this month, the first month of the new year, might just set a precedent for the remaining 11 months of the year, as I will go over 1,000 miles driven for the month this morning when I return home from taking my son to work.

There are still a couple of days left to the month, so I figure that by this coming Wednesday, the first day of February, I will probably have driven nearly 1,200 miles for the month of January.

You multiply that number by 12 months, and I will drive more than 14,000 miles this year.

Sure, I know that some months I won’t drive as much as January—and some months I will exceed that number—but just as an average, my soon-to-be nine year old car is going to have to roll a lot of miles this year.

In fact, if my calculations are correct, my car should hit the 100,000 mile mark in July or August of this year.

And it will take plenty of money for it to get to that point, and it all comes out of my pocket.

I am not the only one having to bear this burden, but unless we get some relief, a major portion of my money is getting pumped into my gas tank.

And I just hope my car holds up to this burden, too, because there is no way that I can afford a new car at this point in time.

I consider myself lucky, because I will put my 2014 Kia Optima against any car on the road. It is a great car, perfect for me and my driving habits, and I know that I will get from Point A to Point B seamlessly when I drive my car.

But it is going to be nine years old during the middle of May, and I have to wonder how long it can go … I hope to get it to do way past 100,000 miles with the proper upkeep.

But then again, I am not looking forward to pumping $5 per gallon into the car, but it sure looks like that is inevitable, unless we get another tax amnesty like we did last year.

It sure helped, and I think we could really use another one …

The sooner the better.

Have a nice weekend. Speak to you again on Monday.

Rant #3,060: Dreaming

I have not been sleeping well lately.

I think it has to do with my allergies, which are acting up as a result, I believe, of the unseasonably warm weather we are having this winter in my neck of the woods.

I have been falling asleep early, waking up early, and then I am unable to go back to sleep in my bed.

So I often wander out into our living room, and try to fall asleep on the chair that we have there.

It is very comfortable, and I usually fall asleep for anywhere from a half hour to an hour and a half on this chair.

Afterwards, I go back into the bed, try to have the remainder of my sleep there, and sometimes I succeed and sometimes I fail, as I did last night, so I was back on the chair in the living room, where I once again fell asleep, and did the entire routine over again.

Funny, whenever I fall asleep in the living room, I have a dream, sometimes that I remember, but most times, I only can recall bits and pieces of it.

But last night was one of those nights that I remember just about everything about the dream that I had, which started up the first time I went to sleep on the chair, was put on hold when I went back into the bed, and then started up again when I went to sleep on the chair again.

So I guess you can call it a continuous dream, interrupted by whatever bed sleep I got, and then revved up again when I went back into the living room to sleep on the chair.

I think I have these types of dreams when I go to the chair to try to sleep because I am in a sitting up position when I sleep on that chair—it does have a handle to make the chair more into a bed, but I rarely use it—and it stirs my imagination, even when I am supposed to be sleeping.

Anyway, the dream I had last night was most certainly inspired by yesterday’s real-life grand opening of Grand Central Madison, which links riders of the Long Island Railroad on Long Island to Grand Central Station in Manhattan.

The link is not what it will be yet—when certain lines will go directly into Grand Central Station without having to change at the Jamaica Station hub--but it still provides another option for riders who need to go past Penn Station for work or for play in Manhattan.

Anyway, in my dream, I was in Manhattan, alone, evidently back from a trip of some kind, and I was carrying a suitcase and a bag of souvenirs like T-shirts and trinkets and things like that.

It was very clumsily, but I was making it on foot to where I had to go—I assume Penn Station, but I don’t know why I was where I was, many blocks away from that hub.

But as I was clumsily walking to get to my destination, with my bags falling from my grip with seemingly every stride, I then, all of a sudden, had the urge to go to the bathroom—and I mean, really go to the bathroom—and I needed to find a lavatory ASAP.

I entered this large structure—which I believe might have been Grand Central Station which I have been in about two or three times in my life versus Penn Station, which I have been in thousands of times--and it was all gleaming new, so it might have been the new Grand Central Madison portion of the facility.

Anyway, I am dragging the suitcase and the bag along with me as I ferociously look for a bathroom, but I cannot find one, and the time is getting precious, if you get my drift.

Anyway, I finally find someone who knows where the bathroom is, but he tells me this one thing as he points to where I have to go (literally): “We are very European here, and you just can’t use any men’s bathroom. You have to be able to fit yourself and whatever you are carrying into the bathroom to be able to use it.”

I didn’t care at that point, and I asked someone else about where the bathroom was, and they pointed me in the right direction … but when I got there, it was a single-use bathroom, and although it was not being used, there was sign on the door that said something to the effect of what I was told earlier: “You cannot use the bathroom unless you can fit yourself and what you are carrying with you in the bathroom.”

I had to go really bad by this point, so I went into the bathroom, which was the size of a linen closet, and even though I tried, I could not fit into the bathroom with all my stuff, so I opened the door and told some Asian guy waiting to use the bathroom about the rules of engagement there.

He walked right in and did what he had to do while I was still dragging my stuff around looking for a bathroom that would accommodate me.

And then the dream ended.

I kind of figured that this was sort of a mix of the Grand Central Madison project and my trip to Korea nearly seven years ago, where I discovered that the Koreans handle their bathroom facilities a little bit differently than we do.

Many of their public bathrooms are communal, meaning that at least in the men’s bathrooms, you pee in a large urn-like structure with others doing so at the same time, and I also remember that our hotel room had a toilet with a bidet, where the water squirts up at you.

I also remember that my wife said that the women’s bathrooms were different there too, but I don’t recall what she said about them.

But anyway, that was my dream, and I have no idea why I dreamt it or what it means.

And no, when I actually woke up, I did not have to go to the bathroom at such a ferocious level, and since some of you are going to ask this, no, I did not have any accidents.

So, do you have any takes on this?

I have no idea at all what it all means, but as I write it down here at the Blog, I guess it must mean something.

What? Who knows?

Rant #3,059: Fame

Today, I am going to talk about what a “Hall of Fame” actually means, and not the diluted versions that we are presented with each year by the sports and music community.

I am going to pinpoint my talk around the Baseball Hall of Fame, which like the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, is more about politics than the areas that they cover.

Scott Rolen was an excellent player during his career, and yes, there are not many third basemen that are in the HoF, but his election to these supposedly hallowed halls demonstrates once again that the Hall of Fame has become a Hall of Very Good Players, and little more.

His election makes me wonder how a player like Don Mattingly is not in the HoF, and don’t get me started on Carlos Beltran.

And how did Mr. PED, David Ortiz, slip into the HoF?

‘Nuf said about the Baseball Hall of Fame, and we have the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame nominations coming up, and they make their baseball counterparts look like a day at the park when you consider that many of the nominees have as much to do with rock and roll as Topo Gigio does.

Why do we need Halls of Fame anyway?

I can see if legitimate personalities were in there, and yes, over the years, both Halls of Fame have put in the right people, but over the generations, this list of inductees has been completely watered down, much of the time by politics.

Certainly, the PED and cheating scandals have greatly impacted the Baseball HoF, but when you do not have your top home run hitter (Barry Bonds), your top hits leader (Pete Rose), one of the greatest hitters that ever lived (Shoeless Joe Jackson) and one of the greatest pitchers of all time (Roger Clemens) in a facility celebrating the greatest players ever, it is hard to imagine that these players are not in there, scandals or no scandals.

And the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, in its desire to draw advertising dollars to its telecasts, has pretty much forgotten its vow to put in those acts who greatly influenced others, and a HoF without Chubby Checker, Lesley Gore, The Monkees, Paul Revere and the Raiders, Tommy James and the Shondells, The Turtles and a whole bunch of other acts is no Hall of Fame at all.

I have actually been to the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, New York—twice—and it is a magical place, where you can actually see and learn about the greatest players of all time, including Babe Ruth, Willie Mays, Hank Aaron, Joe DiMaggio … what a great lineup of athletes are in this HoF.

But then you get some others, who I will not name, and well, you really have to wonder what politicking got them in there.

They were all fine players, but fine is quite different from the historic game changers I mentioned above.

I have never been to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland, Ohio, and I probably will never go there.

That place has become anything but “Rock and Roll” over the years, and for every Elvis Presley, Chuck Berry, Little Richard, Beatles, Rolling Stones and the like, you have artists who have absolutely nothing to do with rock and roll … so why even name the place “The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame?”

A lot of that disparity has to do with Rolling Stone publisher Jan Wenner, who had his likes and dislikes, and put them on the heads of those who voted for acts for admission.

But he no longer has such a pull on the voters—supposedly—so you would think that the nominations would reflect that, but they simply don’t.

It is all about politics in both of these Halls, and it takes away from the primary purpose of each of them, which is not only celebration, but education.

I mean, how can you have Joan Jett in there—twice yet—and not have Lesley Gore as an inductee?

It makes absolutely no sense at all, but again, like the Baseball Hall of Fame, politics rule the list of nominees and the list of inductees each and every year.

I used to get all fired up about these two Halls of Fame and who was nominated, but apart from today’s Rant, I haven’t spoken much about it in recent times.

I mean, why bother?

Neither Hall of Fame listens to the public when they make their decisions about who should be in these two HoFs, respectively, so what do I have to say that has any weight over anything they decide to do?

How many petitions do I have to sign to get a particular act into the HoF, and truly, why bother when the HoF doesn’t pay the least bit of attention to these fan-based exercises in futility to begin with?

Both Halls of Fame have their respective agendas, and they follow them to the letter … almost basking in the fact that once it is known who is going in and who isn’t, it spurs controversy that goes on for weeks and sometimes months—until the newest list of nominees and eligible performers is released.

However, I can shake my head over their choices, and I still do that, but then I move on from it, because it really doesn’t matter.

I have been going to baseball games and been a fan since I was seven years old or so, so what do I know about baseball?

Heck, I have 10,000 records in my collection, so what do I know about rock and roll?

Nothing at all, and I do mean nothing, according to both Halls of Fame … and that is just plain wrong, wrong and wrong.

Rant #3,058: Just Another Day

My family and I have lived in our community on Long Island for going on 52 years.

Me, personally, I have lived at this address for around 50 years myself (when I was in my first marriage and had my first child, I lived elsewhere).

But over 50 years, we have never had a problem with our garbage, until recent times.

We have contacted the town we live in about the preponderance of feral animals destroying the garbage as they look for things to eat, and you might remember that a few weeks ago at this Blog I told you about some really lazy dog walkers that were dumping their animals’ waste in our garbage pails, the smell of which attracted the feral animals, who then went to town on our garbage.

And you might remember me telling you about the dump trucks missing our garbage a few times, claiming they couldn’t see them behind the cars (utter laziness).

But yesterday morning was a first—we received a warning, in writing, from a Department of Sanitation inspector about our garbage.

Of course, I never received any response at all when I complained about the feral animals destroying our garbage, but yesterday, we received a response, in writing, abut what time we put the garbage on the street.

Evidently, it irks someone that we put the garbage on the street early in the morning—when I go out and get the newspaper, between 6 a.m. and 7 am-- and that it stays there until the next day, when it is picked up.

It is put at the curb at this time simply because it is easy for me to do when I bring back the pail that had garbage that has already been picked up. I have to bring it to the same area that we keep out pails, so I simply put the one that has been emptied back where we keep the other pails and drag another pail to the curb.

Honestly, I have been doing this for years, and I had no idea at all that there was some sort of time period where you can do this and cannot do this.

And others on our block often do it too.

I found out yesterday that our town allows garbage pails to be put at the curb at 5 p.m. the day before they are to be picked up, and we have been in violation of this rule.

When I called the town about the violation, they explained to me that the reason they do this is that feral animals get the garbage and spew it all over the place.

Of course, I brought up that I have myself complained about this problem, to no avail, and that they do it overnight, so if you put the pails out at 5 p.m. or later, they are going to get to your garbage anyway.

And of course, this all fell on deaf ears.

“If you continue to put your pails out early, you will be subject to a fine and possibly even imprisonment,” I was told.

But the burning question is this: After so many years of unwittingly doing this, who reported us?

I asked the person on the phone, and she said that she was not at liberty to tell me. “We have inspectors driving around all the time, so it could have been the inspector who gave you the warning,” she said.

But she would not divulge if a neighbor complained about it being at the curb so early … and while I will never know for sure, methinks it was probably a neighbor, perhaps the one who I scolded for putting their dog refuse in our garbage pail.

We live on a very small block, and since the original or longer-term home owners have either moved out or died, we have had a succession of new home owners in every house on the block, except ours.

We barely know them, and at least one house on the block is an illegal rental unit, with two or maybe three tenants living in what is supposed to be a single-family house.

They have brought their cars with them, and at times, we have had parking problems because these new home owners—or renters—have no idea at all how to be good neighbors, and they park all over the place, including in front of my house.

My family has subtracted two cars—my parents’ two cars—from our ownership, but with our two cars subtracted, there are maybe a half dozen or more new cars on the block.

And that doesn’t count people who live on the surrounding blocks, who park anywhere they want to without regard for anyone’s personal space.

We don’t own the street, but if we own a house, we should expect to not have problems parking in front of it.

So there has been some tension about this, and the person who owns the home across the street—the one with the renters—has promised me that he has told his tenants not to park in front of my house, but to no avail.

No, we will never have a block party on our block, and I do mean N-E-V-E-R.

So I have a sneaking suspicion it was one of the people who live on our block who complained but like I said, we will never know for sure.

But whatever the case, I have more important things to do in my life than argue about garbage placement, so if I can’t put my garbage out when I want to put it out, then I guess I won’t.

This is all a load of utter nonsense to be honest with you, wouldn’t you agree?

Someone is getting their kicks from this, but if this is what thrills them, I would tell them to get a hobby to fill in their time thinking about my garbage.

Rant #3,057: Spin

This past weekend was pretty mundane.

Nothing much happened that I can recall; it was simply a relaxing Saturday and Sunday, for me at least.

About the only highlight I can recall is that I did one thing a little bit different this past weekend—

I went to a local record show, looking for 45s and LPs to add to my collection.

I have gone to this particular record show for the past few years, and it is held about once every three months in the American Legion Hall in my community.

Since a few years ago, the attendance has really ticked up at this event, where the room is filled with about 20 or so vendors.

That has to do with the increased interest in vinyl by music fans.

Although CDs and other music media is sold there, the predominant format there is vinyl, not just from the 1950s to the 1990s, but well beyond that, to the present time.

I love to go to my local record store to search for additions to my collection, but I always manage to find something at this particular record show … in spite of some of the dealers being just a little shifty.

But if you know what you are doing—and show the dealer that you know what you are talking about—you should have no problem at this event at all.

Anyway, I usually get there an hour or two after it officially opens, and I did so yesterday—and I have to say that I never saw such a packed house as it was on this bleary Sunday morning.

When I got there, there must have been several hundred people looking for records, and the place was tight, musty and very warm.

At one time, you had to wear a mask when you were in the dealers room, but now, you are given the option of wearing one or not.

To be on the safe side, I wore my mask, and with the crowd really so tight, I really didn’t mind doing so.

I entered the room, saw all the people, and figured that my time there would be as tight as the mass of people who were looking to buy records, so I busily went up the rows trying to get a bead on who was there and what was available.

I almost immediately saw my favorite dealers, two Japanese fellows who haven’t been at the show since about a year ago.

I went over to their table first; they offer an extensive lot of Japanese 45s—including the Beatles, Rolling Stones and Monkees, which they always have segmented out from the rest of what they are offering—and some nice LPs and other Japanese singles.

They are pleasant people, and their prices are pretty good for what they are selling, so I went to them immediately, found a few Japanese Monkees singles that I did not have in my collection, and paid for them. They were nice enough to give me a bag to put my stuff into, a real rarity at these shows.

I hope that they come back in the future; there is plenty more that I would buy from them, but I do budget myself at these things, looking for bargains and records that are not too highly priced.

Then I worked my way up and down some more aisles, and I found another dealer who had some albums for sale, some for as low as $1.

My eye caught a $1 LP that was put out front of that bin, and it was a Nancy Ames record, “Latin Pulse.” The entire record was sung in Spanish by the very versatile Ames, who could go from English to Spanish singing without a blink of an eye, as she demonstrated on various 1960s variety shows like “The Ed Sullivan Show” with aplomb.

I have spoken about her in Rants in the past, and I kind of rediscovered this singer as an adult through the Sullivan show reruns. She was not only very talented, but a beautiful woman, had an incredible back story … but her records are not plentiful, even though she put out plenty during the 1960s—so when I see one, I grab it, and for $1, you really can’t go wrong.

I then proceeded to have a short discussion with the dealer about her, and he was as fascinated with her as I was … he was also around the same age as me, so we both agreed that our fascination took another level as we got older.

Then I moved on, pretty much thinking that my time was done there, but I came across a dealer’s table that had been so obscured by people when I passed by it before that I wasn’t able to see what he was offering.

I finally got to it, and I am glad that I did, because the dealer was selling his wares at half price … and I found three 45s with picture sleeves by the Animals, Cowsills and the Grass Roots that I just had to have … and now I have them.

I then knew that my time was over there—it was really warm in the hall and the amount of people had multiplied—and I proceeded out, looking at one more dealer who was way too overpriced for me.

But I think I did pretty well there yesterday, and any show like this where I can get a Nancy Ames record … well, I guess you can say that I am vinyl-lee satisfied, for sure.

Rant #3,056: Skin Deep

Hello, I am back!

Yesterday I had an early doctor’s appointment—at 7a.m., believe it or not—so I figured it was a good day to take some time off from this blog.

I had to go to the dermatologist—who I like to call the “skin doctor” because not only does he take care of my skin, but it costs a lot of “skin” to get treated there—and I go there about once every six months or so.

I go there because I am one of those people who are prone to skin tags, and while most of them are nothing to worry about, the doctor has removed some pre-cancerous growths on my body.

If you have ever gone to a skin doctor, you know the procedure.

The doctor asks you if anything is bothering you—meaning do you have any new growths on your body—and after he tends to those things you tell him about, then he investigates himself.

For me, I get these growths on my head and my face—although I have had them in other places—so he looks at those places first, and when he sees something that needs taking care of, he sprays this stuff on the affected area that freezes the area so it can better eventually be eradicated.

The spray doesn’t hurt, but it does sting plenty … and yesterday, the doctor was spraying so much on my head that I really had to close my eyes and cringe a little bit.

And yesterday, the doctor found two areas that needed to be removed and sent out to see if they are anything more than just skin tags.

One was on my left cheek, and one was just below my Adam’s Apple on my upper chest.

The removal of these things stings a little bit, and for the next two weeks, I have to use ointment and Band Aids to help these areas heal.

It has been my experience that sometimes they heal where you would never know that they were there, and sometimes they heal and you can clearly see something was there.

I am hoping for the former, of course, but the doctor had to dig deep to get them off of me, so I am sure I will have a few scars left in these areas—but no further growths.

More importantly, I am hoping that neither of these things he took off of me were cancerous, although like I said, I have had a few pre-cancers removed from my skin, with the most recent being in I think 2021.

Skin cancer is the most treatable of cancers, and if you have any new growths on your body that don’t belong there, I would get them checked.

Remember, your skin is an organ, the largest organ in your body, and like other organs, things can go awry, probably not of your own doing, unless you sit out in the sun and burn yourself to a insipid glow.

Just recently, our First Lady, Dr. Jill Biden, had a few cancerous growths removed from her skin, including one over her eye.

The one over the eye is most concerning, because its placement can affect the optic nerve.

So I guess you can say that if it can happen to our First Lady, it can happen to anyone.

Both of my parents had growths removed from their skin and with my mother, she actually had growths that were cancerous.

I believe that the cancerous growths were on her legs, but I honestly don’t remember, because she had them removed several years ago. My father also had several growths removed, but none were cancerous—and I think they were on his legs too.

In the past, I have had some growths removed on different parts of my body, including my thighs, but the only pre-cancerous ones that I have had removed were on my face and on my scalp.

I would suggest everyone to have these growths—including moles—looked at by a dermatologist, because you don’t know what is there until they are looked at and analyzed.

I guess it is easy for me to say because I am prone to them—I think I had my first of these things removed probably 20 or 30 years ago—but really, they don’t belong on your skin and you should have them checked out.

And the removal part only stings for a moment, and then, you are pretty much done with it.

I complain about the costs of doing this—even with insurance—but honestly, I would rather pay the money than be walking around with cancerous lesions on my body.

I have enough problems without having to worry about that, too.

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

Rant #3,055: Oh Happy Day

Welcome to Wednesday, January 18.

I am miserable today, because today is the first day of the new year where my allergies are absolutely killing me.

As I type this Rant out, I can barely see out of both of my eyes, and my nose is running like a water faucet.

Having allergies is such a curse, and on a day like today, it is as bad as it can possibly be.

I think it is being brought on by the weather trend we are having here on the East Coast, where it gets cold, like winter should be, but then rebounds and we get weather for several days that is reminiscent of what we normally get in April.

Today, it is supposed to be a bit wet again, but it is going to be in the 50s, so it is not unlike early April even though we are in mid-January.

Believe me, I am not comparing our weather to what is happening out west, where California has been hit by enough rain for about five years just in the past few days.

Nor am I comparing our weather with places that are getting record snowfalls, including right here in upper New York State in Buffalo, where I wonder if they are still digging out of the snow they received late last year and earlier this month.

Compared to what is happening elsewhere, what we have gotten here is something I can certainly live with.

I heard on the local newscast yesterday that we might actually get our first substantial snow in these parts by next Thursday, amounting to a couple of inches of the white stuff.

As of yet, we have not even received a trace of snow thus far, although we have gotten lots of rain.

It has just been too warm in December and thus far in January, and January might set a record for the warmest January on record the way it is going.

But keep the snow away!

I can live with the allergies—I have done so my entire life—but I just hate the snow.

It creates havoc that isn’t really worth it.

On another note, for some reason, my computer may have fixed itself.

I don’t know or understand how it has done this, but after months and months of not booting up correctly, it has been six days in a row that it has turned on the right way, and I haven’t had to reset it at all to get it to boot up to the correct opening screen.

I cannot figure it out, although I think it has to do with the heat in the room that I have the computer in.

When it gets too warm in that room—my daughter’s old bedroom—the computer simply won’t turn on the right way.

Now that we are in winter, and we have had a very mild winter here, the coolness has actually benefitted the computer, and it boots up each morning like it is supposed to.

In fact, since January 1, I have had just one day where it has taken me several times to get it going—on January 9, when it took me four tries to get this thing where it should be (yes, I am charting these things since the first of the year).

The computer has had a couple of threes and twos, but for six straight days, it has turned on perfectly.

I don’t want to give it a “kin ahura”—Yiddish for “the whammy”—but I just hope that the computer can keep on going like this …

But I still don’t trust it entirely, and I am continuing to back it up each and every day.

I just wish I could reboot my allergies today.

I wish it was a simple as pushing a button or taking out a plug, but it doesn’t work that way.

My eyes are continuing to hurt, I just blew my nose today for what feels like the 101,807th time, and I am miserable today … and it isn’t even 7:30 a.m. yet.

I have a full day ahead of me, and while I am sure that my allergies will kind of even out over the next few hours, it is a completely helpless feeling when I am in the midst of a bad allergy day.

About the only thing I can do is to take a nap and see if that works—in particular for my eyes—but I simply don’t have the time to do that in the foreseeable next few hours.

But there is always hope, just like I had for this old computer, which hasn’t given me much of a problem for about a week now, and for pretty much the entirety of the new year.

Will I be able to say the same about my allergies after today?

I guess I can only hope so.

Tomorrow, I have my first early appointment of the new year, so I will not be submitting a Rant on Thursday.

Speak to you again on Friday, and I hope to have better news about my allergies, and continued good news about my computer.

Again, I can only hope so.

Rant #3,054: Smoke Gets In Your Eyes

I did exactly what I wanted to do during yesterday’s Dr. Martin Luther King Day holiday.

I relaxed, did a little work, watched the New York Knicks game, and didn’t do too much else.

It was the perfect holiday for me.

The only downer was that the Knicks lost in overtime to the Toronto Raptors, but otherwise, it was a good day.

How was your holiday?

But holidays are short-lived, and today, I am back to the grind.

I have to take my son back and forth to work, and I know that I will get some stories that I have edit and/or rewrite.

Look, I know that it isn’t very much like my old grind after a holiday—where I had to physically go back to work—but it is the best I can do right now, or maybe even for the rest of my life.

And yesterday, unlike other days that I am home as a semi-retired person, I had a chance to watch a bit of TV, whether it was that Knicks game I told you about, a few old sitcoms like “Leave It To Beaver” and “The Donna Reed Show,” and, of course, the news—both local and national—which I always manage to watch, holiday or no holiday.

But watching a bit more television than normal found me seeing a bit more commercials and there is one local commercial that really riles me.

If you live in the New York Metropolitan Area, you almost certainly know the commercial, and if you don’t, just bear with me while I describe it to you.

(I can’t find it on YouTube to actually show it to you.)

The ad has a title kid singing the song “Clementine” while his mother proceeds through her daily ritual of lighting up a cigarette … and her progression from healthy, young mom to being on a ventilator as payback for her actions.

You know the song. It is a kids’ tune, but it has been turned into a maudlin dirge by aligning its almost profane words into the focus of the commercial:

“Oh my darling, oh my darling
Oh my darling Clementine
You are lost and gone forever
Dreadful sorry, Clementine.”

And the kid singing this song puts extra melodrama on the “You are lost and gone forever” portion of the lyrics.

Now, nobody is going to argue that the message is a wrong one.

Smoking is bad—in particular for women—and nobody should smoke anything at all, tobacco or otherwise, because it affects the body negatively and can lead to cancer and other health problems.

We know this due to years and years of research on the matter.

But the message is two-faced, in particular in New York.

The message is don’t smoke tobacco, but you can smoke marijuana without any consequences.

As you probably know, New York State—as are the surrounding states in the New York Metropolitan Area—is gearing up to making recreational pot use legal, as is recreational tobacco use.

But you can’t rant against smoking tobacco and embrace smoking pot at the same time, but that is exactly what New York State is doing.

We have put the cart before the horse in states where pot smoking is legal, because we don’t yet know what the effects on the body of smoking weed are, although what we do know—including its effects on the brain—are not good.

Nor do we have a test that will clearly tell us whether drivers who are pulled over by police for a driving infraction were influenced by the use of marijuana.

All those that support the legalization see is green, and yes, the tax revenues from legal put sales will probably blind them to the fact that whether you smoke tobacco or pot, you might just be putting yourself in harm’s way.

Yes, marijuana has been shown to have some medicinal benefits, but do they outweigh the overall fact that smoking anything is probably, in the long run, bad for you?

So anti-smoking messages that the state creates to scare people into not smoking really are dulled by the fact that we look down at those who smoke cigarettes, but we are now congratulating those who smoke joints.

It makes no sense … unless you are a New York legislator who supports legalized recreational put use.

Sure we have legal tobacco use, we have legal alcohol use, and now, we have legal pot use, but why are we not following our own advice, such as like we supposedly did with the coronavirus shot where we were told to “follow the science” when deciding whether to get the shots or not?

We aren’t doing it here with legal pot use … all we are doing is following the green, and when is that ever the proper way to view things?

I guess we are going to eventually have other kids singing “Clementine” to their parents, too, but it will also be directed at those who smoke weed.

You can’t have it both ways, but somehow, New York State thinks that you can.

Heck, I could have been that Clementine kid about 50 years ago, as I saw my own grandfather wither away and die from his smoking habit … and whether you are talking about tobacco or pot, yes, it is a habit.

New York State is well known for having some of the most virulent and direct anti-smoking advertising in the country, where ads across the years have even shown the insides of someone who is dying of cancer due to smoking.

Smoking anything cannot be good for you, and the green veil that the state is trying to put over our eyes regarding pot smoking makes those commercials into jokes, sending a mixed message to viewers—including kids—that simply does not compute.

And now we have kids ingesting pot-laced gummies … sorry, New York State, you have opened a Pandora’s Box of problems that can never be closed again … and you did it not based on the science, but on the green.

Smoke may be getting in your eyes, and you cannot see the forest for the trees.

Rant #3,053: I Remember the Feeling

Today, it’s Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Day, celebrating the slain civil rights activist’s birthday, which was actually yesterday.

If he would still be alive, he would have been 94 years of age on January 15.

Even though the day is a federal holiday--which pretty much means that many businesses are closed, schools are closed, government offices are closed and there is no mail delivery—I, personally, never had the day off.

When I was substitute teaching in the 1980s—looking for that regular position that never came—the holiday was not yet a federal one, and school districts could be opened or closed, respectively.

I worked in many districts that were open today, so I worked on this day, as many teachers took the day off even if their schools were open.

And in whatever later jobs I had, we never had this day off—whether it was a federal holiday or not--so I worked on this day, including during my final full time job of nearly 24 years.

Since today is supposedly a day of service, I figured that my day of service was to go to work and work, and that would suffice as “service.”

And here, now in my current position as a remote worker, I will continue that trend, as I will work today.

I will send in a story that I did over the weekend, so even if no one is around to put the story up on the Internet, that is how I will continue to work on MLK Day.

And a lot of my day of service will admittedly be watching TV, as the New York Knicks will be playing their traditional MLK Day game later this afternoon, so I will do my “service” watching the game.

I am not trying to minimize the day, the importance of the day, and the man that we are celebrating this day.

Dr. King had a tremendous impact on our nation and on our culture, and certainly, growing up where I did in South Jamaica, Queens, we knew his impact almost personally, whether we were black or white.

But for me, over the years, this is what the day has become, another holiday on the calendar.

Sorry to be so blasé about the day, but that is the way I feel about it.

I can connect to the day, perhaps better than I can, let’s say, to days honoring Presidents Washington and Lincoln, because I was alive when Dr. King was around and in the news almost every day.

But beyond that, it pretty much stops there.

And again, this does not minimize his importance on our country and our culture, both of which were immense.

But perhaps I connect the dots too much, and I remember when he was senselessly shot and killed, and I remember what went on in my community at the time, the mixed-race Rochdale Village, which was the largest cooperative housing development in the world at the time.

The aftermath of his murder was terrible.

Many of us school kids were threatened by those who simply believed that since a white person killed King, that all white people were responsible for his death.

I remember the Black Panthers demanding that the school I went to at the time, the almost new P.S. 30, be named after Dr. King, and if not, they were going to blow up the school (it wasn’t, and they never did).

I remember the fear that a lot of us had when walking the grounds of the development, which was smack dab in the middle of the one of the longest standing and proudest black neighborhoods in America.

And yes, I remember the rage that some people had, which might have been kept up bottled inside before his death, but with his passing, exploded out of them.

During the aftermath of this tragedy, I was afraid for perhaps the first time in my life, and it forced me to grow up a bit and not be a kid anymore.

Look, I know that that is not fair to characterize Dr. King by those horrid remembrances, but I was just about 11 years old in 1968 when he was shot and killed, so that is what I remember.

I remember that when we heard the news reports of his murder, my mother yelled, “Oh God” over and over … and she ended up being spot on, as life was never the same in Rochdale Village after this tragedy.

Dr. King was a great man,, a man who brought to our eyes and ears and brains that if “all men are created equal,” then those cannot be empty words, they need to be real ones and must be carried out to the letter.

He fought for that in every march and speech he attended and made, and finally, when people of all backgrounds were starting to listen, he was so needlessly gunned down.

And when he was gunned down, I know that our lives changed, and my life changed too.

I was just about 11 years old—he died on April 4 and my birthday was on April 28—and I might have morphed from a kid into a man that sorry day, as I had to face challenges that I never even thought possible prior to his death.

Life would never, ever be the same again for me, and I wonder how many of you also felt the same thing—the move from childhood to adulthood—due to the circumstances of his unfortunate passing.

So yes, we celebrate the man and his mission today, but I will always think about that fateful day in April on every MLK Day … even though today we celebrate his birthday … but to me at least, the day of his birth and the day of his death are so intertwined that I have to think about both during this day.

Maybe that is a fault of my own thinking, but I do believe that we all grew up a little bit when MLK left us, and later that year, we grew up another notch when Robert Kennedy left us, too.

The year 1968 made all of us grow up a little bit, I think, whether we were 10-years-old-going-on 11 or we were in our 20s, 30s, 40s, 50s, or even older than that.

So again, have a great Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Day … but at least for me, those thoughts I just described to you will be in my mind today, even though I would prefer that they weren’t in my thought processes at all.

Rant #3,052: Lights Out

I see that Lisa Marie Presley, the only child of Elvis Presley, has joined her father in Rock and Roll Heaven.

She passed away at age 54 after sustaining a heart attack a few days after she appeared at the Golden Globes ceremony, where she looked about 30 years older than her actual age.

Like with her father, past drug abuse certainly led to her early demise.

In fact, she actually outlasted her father on this earth, as he died, with a past filled with pill popping, at age 42.

I don’t even know what Lisa Marie’s legacy was to the world, unlike her father, who was probably the greatest and most successful solo recording artist ever (SoundScan be damned).

Beyond being a mother and a grandmother herself, the younger Presley did record several successful albums that reached the upper regions of the Billboard Top Albums chart.

And a few of her singles did receive some airplay. I seem to vaguely remember the song “Lights Out,” now so prophetically titled, which was a hit single about 20 years ago.

She was married four times, and of course, her greatest claim to fame might have been her marriage to Michael Jackson, a union that could only be made in media heaven, and which, of course, didn’t last very long.

I think she had four kids, Elvis and Priscilla’s’ grandchildren, and that one of hers sons committed suicide a few years back.

Based on the fact that she was her father’s sole heir, she was probably one of the wealthiest people in the country, if not the world.

But once again, her demise has proven that money can’t buy you longevity.

I would imagine that her estate will make her kids and grandkids very wealthy once it is doled out.

Other than that, what more is there to say about her?

The interesting thing is that every news show worth its salt made initially the health attack story, and then her death, into “Breaking News,” making each of stories on just about the same level as the President’s top-secret papers mishap or George Santos’ string of lies.

And every newspaper put the heart attack she suffered and her death as news on its front page.

I guess that that simply shows the pull, the draw and the popularity her father continues to have, nearly a half century after his death.

He still brings in millions upon millions of dollars each year through things like record sales and the use of his likeness and name, and while Lisa Marie simply did not have that cache, she certainly benefited big time from being his daughter.

But again, money cannot buy happiness, and whenever you saw her, she looked so down, so unhappy, and ultimately, so sickly, like she did just the other day.

I guess she was the ultimate “Poor Little Rich Girl,” and that is how she will probably be best remembered …

Having everything, but really, having nothing.

Sad to say, but it appears to be true.

I remember when her father passed away.

I was working as a security guard at Green Acres Shopping Center, one of the sprawling shopping centers on Long Island. I was in college picking up a few bucks doing this work.

My shift was over, and I got in my car to drive home. I had on the radio, tuned in to venerable FM powerhouse WNEW-FM, probably the most popular FM rock station in the country at that time.

As I was driving home, I heard one Elvis song, then another, then another. If you remember the station, one of the best things about it was that it had, at least during those years, an expansive playlist that was determined by the disk jockeys themselves, and you didn’t blink if you heard a Led Zeppelin song and then, right after, a song by the Monkees on that station.

Anyway, I was driving home, and all they were playing was Elvis songs, one after another after another.

And yes, in my mind, I did wonder why they were doing that.

Finally, Scott Muni—one of the all-time best music disk jockeys—came on the air and told listeners something to the effect of, “If you haven’t heard, Elvis Presley, the ‘King of Rock,’ passed away today,” and he did it through tears.

And as I drove home that day, the Elvis songs never stopped.

And now, nearly 50 years later, his daughter has joined him in music heaven.

And I am sure he is singing to her “Love Me Tender” right now as we speak.

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

Rant #3,051: Tell the Truth

I can see into the future, and I don’t need a crystal ball to do so …

A bumbling human being somehow outwits governmental officials, using a pack of lies, one larger than the other, and is actually elected to our House of Representatives.

When the truth is found out, he is scorned by just about everyone he comes into contact with, is asked to resign, refuses to do so, and his two-year term is somehow filled by this supposed legislator, who was actually called “sick and in need of help” by the county executive in which his district is a major portion of.

After the two years, he slinks out of governmental service, but has a multi-million-dollar book deal on the table to tell us all how he did it, and yes, a movie deal too.

And one of the news networks gobbles this guy up as a commentator.

You could not make this stuff up, but right now, everything but the last two things I wrote here are true.

George Santos—if that is his real, actual name—refuses to step down from his seat in the House, even thought the wagons have surrounded him and are looking for anything that he did that was actually illegal.

We have all learned through this saga that lying is not an illegal action—many prominent people do so for their own aggrandizement, including politicians—but there just has to be a smoking gun with Santos, and I think if they get him, they will get him because his finances were not in order, not because he lied about the colleges he went to, the corporations he worked for, or his ethnic background.

We have learned that you can lie about all of that, but once it gets to money … and money ferreted out to and from different sources, you better be telling the truth.

Bur right now, he is still in office, must be called “Rep.” Santos, and is in the process of setting up his office in Washington.

Yesterday, in late morning, every Nassau County Long Island Republican worth his or her salt joined a press conference and demanded that Santos resign from office.

It was almost funny watching these legislators talk about their own honesty, and the ruse that Santos pulled over their own eyes.

The head of the Nassau County Republican Party admitted that the vetting process was not good enough to weed out Santos; others said they backed him and they trusted that his resume was fact, not fiction; and still others said that they felt betrayed.

Why don’t you just say that you were duped, made a terrible mistake, and that you let down your constituents with your approval of this liar?

As I said earlier, one of these mopes—the Nassau County Executive, no less—suddenly became a doctor during this press conference, saying that Santos was sick and needed medical attention immediately.

No, what was sick was that all of these legislators—with probably a collective more than a century of experience, or maybe even more than that—fell for this pack of lies.

The power in both the House and Senate, as I have learned writing about governmental entitles for the past more than a quarter of a century—is that the power in those two houses of government lies in the committees, who is on those committees and what those committees are able to enact.

There are several prestigious committees, among them the House and Senate Armed Services Committee, which pretty much oversee our reaction to armed conflict during peacetime and wartime.

But there are other less prestigious committees which oversee other areas that don’t get as much press as the HASC and SASC do, but they are really the backbone of our government.

Santos—if he is able to continue his term—should never, ever be named to any committee. He cannot be trusted with carrying out the membership role of whatever committee he might be on, and he certainly cannot be trusted with any sensitive material.

That is where the power of the two houses is, and if he refuses to resign, he must be held off of any committee, which would make him a paper legislator basically waiting for his term to end and keeping the seat warm for whoever follows him.

Yes, it is unfair to his constituents, but give him as little to do as possible, and when his two years are up, he will be done forever as a legislator, and can move on to another field where the vetting is better.

And I am almost sure that in the long run—because our country is almost obsessed with forgiving and forgetting and giving people second chances—he will emerge somewhere, and his notoriety will propel him to even greater fame—and income—than he already has from this current canard.

That old axiom “Liar, liar, stick your head in fire” probably won’t ever apply here, although red-faced legislators who believed in this guy probably wished that it would.

Rant #3,050: Life Goes On

 

“O-Bla-Di, O-Bla-Da, Life Goes On.”

We all remember that Beatles’ song from so long ago, but it is still so true.

We enter a new year, and life just continues as it has been, or at least continues for most of us.

I heard yesterday from a former co-worker of mine, someone who I worked with probably 15 years ago or so, and I heard from her through an email message sent to my email address through LinkedIn, a site that I have not been on in ages … since right after I became officially “retired.”

She wanted to know all about what happened to the company we both worked for at one time, and had heard that I was looking for work.

I replied to her, and did it as concisely as I could:

“I went down with the Titanic on October 10, 2019. The then-owners refused to sell the company, so the six of us who were left were left with nothing. I tried my hardest to find work--I even had Newsday write about my plight in two separate stories--but I could not find anything. Nobody would hire me due to the pandemic and my decrepit age of 62 when the company went under. I was forced to take early retirement, and at age 63, I officially retired. I had no choice, as my unemployment was about to run out. I did find remote work as a writer/editor with the xxx, which remembered me from E and C News. But now at age 65, no one will hire me to a full-time position, so I am making a fraction of what I should be making. I try to come to terms with all of this, but it is difficult. I continue to write my blog, I am all over Facebook, and I guess I have to understand that hiring managers half my age are not going to hire an old fogey like me.”

(Note: Yes, I blotted out the name of the company I currently work for in the message, although on LinkedIn, I left it intact; there is no need to include them in the discussion we are having here.)

It is still difficult for me to fathom what happened to me,, even though we are talking about more than three years ago … what happened happened.

I guess in a way, I simply have not come to terms with this situation yet, no matter how hard I try to.

On the other hand, I believe that I have come to terms with what happened, and I just try to put it out of my mind.

It is a real balancing act, I know that, but if I don’t think about it too much, it keeps me going.

I still think that I am part of the game, but like I said, I have applied for full-time work in the recent past, and I have gotten no response, just like I did before and during the pandemic, when I tried every way possible to get hired.

But I was forced to give in then, and I was forced to give in more recently.

As I said, life goes on.

I don’t like the situation, but there really is nothing I can do about it.

At this point, I have other worries, other things that I must be concerned about, things I did not have on my plate three years ago.

My mom is my main concern now, and frankly, there isn’t much I can do about that situation either.

But at least I can take her to her doctors’ appointments without worrying about how I am going to fit that into my full-time workday.

I took her for a major one at a local hospital on Monday, and today, she goes for a less important one this afternoon.

How could I do this if I was working full-time?

I would have to take days off from work, but since she needs prime care now, it would be very difficult for me to be taking off so many times.

And yes, I have finally gotten used to my routine, which includes taking my son back and forth to work—there is no other way for him to get back and forth going from one county to another and back again--and being home a good part of the day.

I have plenty of things to do here—I have a conference to cover tomorrow for work—but once you are able to work at home, it is very difficult to get back to an office environment … although I will tell you from personal experience that there is nothing like working in an office, being surrounded by your fellow workers, and getting to your work in this setting.

I believe it is still more productive than doing this at home, where you can literally be sitting in your underwear and doing your work.

But with all of this being said, it is always nice to hear from someone out of the blue like this, and I will always reply to someone who asks me about what is going on with me … and I will do it honestly and concisely, but I will not pull any punches in what I say to them.

And then along the same lines, I woke up today and checked my email as I always do, and I was contacted by another former fellow employee of mine, but one who went down for the count like I did when the business we worked for closed three years back.

I haven’t read her email yet, but it appears that she needs a reference for a new job that she is pursuing, and she has asked me to give her one.

She was also out of work for a long time, but with her, it was made all the more worse because she is about 20 years younger than I am, so she did not have retirement or Social Security to fall back on.

Some time ago, I gave her a reference for a job that she was pursuing, and I guess now she needs another reference for another job she is going for, and I will once again provide what she needs.

Like I said, life goes on.

It goes on in something of a straight line for others, but for me, the line has been pretty wavy.

But it does go on, and I have to just get into my head that this is the way it is, this is the way it will be, and I just have to roll with the flow.

But it is something that honestly, is still very hard for me to do.

Rant #3,049: Questions and Answers

Here is another story that we all have heard about, but even though it did happen, it is really shocking and hard to believe.

In a school in Newport News, Virginia, a six-year-old pulled out a gun and shot his 20-something-year-old teacher.

Yes, a six year old.

And reportedly the shot was fired after an altercation the two had.

What, after the teacher asked the kid to put away his crayons, and he refused?

This is hard to fathom, difficult to process, but yes, it did happen.

There are few details out right now about this incident, other than the kid got the gun from his own home, where his mother legally owned the gun.

The kid hid the gun in his backpack, so you can presume he packed it away because he was intending to use it.

The teacher, even though she was shot pretty badly, still was able to shepherd her class to safety, away from the shooter.

She will recover, but this brings up so many questions and reactions that I wonder how this teacher will ever lead a class again—and feel safe.

And what was in the boy’s mind when he decided to use a gun to shoot her?

Why was the gun so easily obtainable by a six year old?

What charges do you bring against the kid?

Is the parent liable for any of this, to the point that she can be put into jail for, if nothing else, complete recklessness regarding the storage of the firearm?

This whole incident truly boggles the mind.

How can someone that young truly believe the way to settle any disagreement with the teacher is by shooting her?

It is bad enough when we have teenagers causing such havoc in high schools and colleges, but in elementary school?

It has since come to light that the teacher had just finished reading her class a story, and was going to move on to another lesson when the incident occurred.

For whatever reason, the kid pulled out his gun fron his backpack at this time, and he intended to use it.

The teacher must have been in total shock, but she tried to grab the gun away from the kid, and then the kid fired it at her.

As one could imagine, an elementary school is not a place one would think that weapons would be carried into, and while there are cameras at the school, there are no metal detectors.

Extra security had supposedly been discussed by the school board there, and there had been at least one other recent incident of such violence in the district, but at the high school, where if such an incident is going to happen, it was going to happen between older students, not a six year old and his teacher.

The Newport News police have already said that this shooting was not accidental, but where do they go fron here?

Published reports state that Virginia law does not allow kids of this age to be tried as adults. Also, a kid of this age is too young to be committed to the custody of the Department of Juvenile Justice if found guilty.

However, a juvenile judge, at his or her discretion, would have the authority to revoke a parent’s custody and place a child under the purview of the Department of Social Services.

Can this kid be rehabilitated? Can he see the error of his ways, and become a productive member of society?

Of do we have a kid that is already so damaged that any effort to straighten him out is simply a complete and total waste of time?

And what about the parent … the gun was purchased legally, but somehow her son got to it, used it—how did he know how to use it?--and could have killed his teacher and possibly harmed others by his actions.

She must bear some of the responsibility for the incident—but how much, and what is the punishment other than perhaps taking away her kid from her?

Like I said, there are just so many questions about this case, and so many answers that need to be fielded and weighed before making any judgments about the mother and her totally wayward son.

But the main question remains this: what type of young mind, that of a six year old, plans out such a scenario, and then carries it out?

What type of environment has this kid grown up in to produce this end result?

I don’t know … I just don’t know.

And at this point, I don’t think anyone does.

Rant #3,048: What's Going On

 

Early on in 2023, the story of the year appears to be that of Damar Hamlin, the Buffalo Bills football player who suffered cardiac arrest on the field during a game and could have died right then and there without the speedy aid that he received fron the Bills’ medical staff.

The player had never had any heart episodes at all in his young life, but during the play where this happened, he got hit right in the chest area where his heart is, and it pretty much turned off the processes allowing his heart to beat.

The country has been captivated with this incident since it happened and since so many people saw it as it played out, as the game was on national TV.

Every TV news show has been covering this story since than, and it appears that while the player is far from being out of the woods with this, he is making something of a remarkable recovery.

Every day we hear updates on his health, and they are all good.

First, he was taking oxygen from a ventilator at a decreasing rate, meaning that he was breathing more on his own.

Next, he was pretty much breathing totally on his own, and next he not only didn’t need the oxygen tube, but he was well enough to be tweeting his teammates.

Next, he was talking, and his doctors said that his neurological progress was excellent.

The NFL has honored him and his number 3 jersey in every way possible, even highlighting the number three on the field.

Fans—and all fans, not just those of the Bills—have taken up his cause, with placards at every game and with donations to his GoFundMe page for his charity, which has gone through the roof to honor the player.

Even non-NFL fans like me have been captivated by this story—

But wait a minute.

Somehow lost in all the tributes and the daily news of his recovery has been one very important item:

How to prevent this so that it never happens to any player ever again.

Look, I realize that this was a freak accident.

Players get hit all the time, and it never, ever leads to anything like this—maybe a couple of bumps and bruises, but not a heart attack.

But with all the bravado thrown behind this story, I have never heard of the NFL even looking into the possibility that there is a chance—even a scant one—that this could happen again, and come up with a plan to prevent that from happening.

Football players already wear a virtual ton of equipment when they go on the field to play, from their helmet to shoulder guards all the way down to their knees and feet.

But this accident happened in the chest area, right where the heart is, and perhaps, if there was some type of equipment underneath the jersey to protect that area, this would never have happened.

Perhaps NFL players need to wear some type of flack jacket underneath their jerseys, or at least something to protect the heart area from experiencing such a pounding.

But whatever the case, has the NFL ever said anything about this?

And aren’t they even the least bit concerned that the next time it happens—and there will be a next time—that the player won’t come out of it as well as Hamlin has?

Why has the NFL not said or done anything about the prevention of this injury?

They have spent enough time in honoring the player, which is all fine and good, but if they had a plan in place prior to this incident, we would not be talking about it like we are, and if because of the incident, they did something about it, no player would ever again have to go through what Hamlin went through.

And Hamlin is NOT the only player to have a heart attack on the field while playing an NFL game.

Back more than 50 years ago, in 1971, when I was fully engaged by football, I believe I was watching a nationally televised game with the Detroit Lions,

Chuck Hughes played in that game. I have no idea who won the game or who the opponent was, but as the game ended, there was some chaos on the field.

Right as the game ended, Hughes clutched his chest, had a massive heart attack, and died.

I so vaguely remember this, and honestly, I had to look up the player’s name just to make sure I knew what I was tailing about.

These things happen, and more than a half-century later, it nearly happened again.

That being said, the ball is now in the NFL’s court; just look at this as an aberration and move on from it, or actually do something viable and tangible about it.

I hope that the NFL chooses the latter path.

Rant #3,047: Brainstorming

Today is Friday, January 6, 2023, the first Friday of the new year.

It is also the Epiphany, as well as being the coming of a new moon.

Honestly, I had no idea what the Epiphany was, so I looked it up, and according to Yahoo, the Epiphany is as follows:

“Epiphany, commonly known as Three Kings’ Day in the United States, is on January 6. It celebrates the three wise men’s visit to baby Jesus and also remembers his baptism, according to the Christian Bible’s events. The United States (US) Virgin Islands observe the day as a public holiday.”

I didn’t know that, and it proves once again that you can learn something new every day,

And being that this is a Friday, and it is the sixth day of the month, we are one week away from 2023’s first Friday the 13th of the year.

How many are we going to have this year?

I looked that up too, and according to the days to site (https://days.to/when-is/friday-the-13th/2023), 2023 is a pretty normal year of Friday the 13ths.

We are going to have just one more Friday the 13th this year.

According to the site, in addition to January 13, we are going to have Friday the 13th on October 13, and that is it for this year.

In 2024, we will have two more, on September 13 and December 13.

And looking way ahead to 2025, we are going to have just one that year, on June 13.

Again, you can learn something new every day.

But one thing that I do know is that what is going on in Washington related to the choosing of the Speaker of the House is not only absurd, but it proves to me once and again that my complete distrust of the two-party system, and my refusal to vote for anyone on the Republican and Democratic lines, is completely valid.

The Republicans simply cannot get enough votes to give Kevin McCarthy that House leadership position, and the right-wing fringe of the party is obstinate in their holding pattern related to this very important vote.

Without a speaker of the House, newly elected members of the House of Representatives cannot be formally sworn in, and legislation cannot be looked at or voted upon.

It puts our government in a complete holding pattern, and it is an embarrassment.

And when you realize that one of the incoming House members who actually has McCarthy’s vote is the perpetual liar George Santos, you just know what a mess our government is in.

And then, to add the raspberry on top of this mess, one House member nominated former President Donald Trump as speaker of the House.

And do you wonder why I won’t ever vote on the Republican line ever again?

And I won’t vote on the Democratic line either, because they don’t get my trust as much as the Republicans don’t get my trust.

That is something I don’t have to look up on the Internet.

All Americans, no matter what party affiliation they might have, should be appalled at all of this nonsense, because that is what it clearly is.

I am just so happy that I am an independent voter, and I am not swayed by either party’s lies and untruths.

But going back to George Santos, I wanted to know what the word “Santos” meant in English.

Look, with all the lies he has told, his real name could be “Joe Shmoe,” but he is going under this name, so what does “Santos” actually mean?

I had to look it up, and according to SpanishDict (https://www.spanishdict.com/translate/santos), the translation of Spanish into English of the word is, as “Santo,” the following:

“Holy” or “Saint.”

Neither of these words describe George Santos, and now that I know the translation, I wonder if his choice of name is another lie, another slander, another slap in the face and another untruth?

Sometimes, you just have to look these things up, and again, you can learn something new every day.

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

That is something that I do not have to look up.