I don't mind serving jury duty--it is my responsibility as a citizen of this country to do so--but others mind, including my place of work.
As I described in a recent post, I went through hell a few years back when I had jury duty, and I try to get out of it to avoid such skirmishes when I can.
Their feeling is that since we have a small company, any cog in the wheel that misses work because of jury duty holds everyone up.
My feeling is that it is not only my duty to serve, but since I work for a place that constantly writes about the quality of life of service members and their families, they should understand that this is an obligation that the citizens of this country must uphold for everyone's quality of life.
They will pay me for three days--that's it--and after that, I am on my own.
I have to get out of it, because my quality of life--in the form of sick and personal days, of which we get very few--will be abridged if I don't get out of this.
It used to be easy for me to get out of jury duty.
I would just say "child support," and I would be let out immediately.
Whatever court it is does not want to interfere with that.
My daughter is 26 now, so I can't use that defense.
I also know it is more difficult to get off of jury duty now than it used to be.
But that is my goal/plight today, get off jury duty, and while I am none too happy about it, it is something that I must do.
Perhaps it will be easy, as it was several years ago, when at about lunch hour, they dismissed us for the week.
Perhaps it will be like the last time, when I literally had to beg to get off a jury I was assigned to.
Whatever the case, I am not looking forward to this situation at all.
You can kill a vampire by putting a stake in their heart, and you can also kill them by preventing them from going back into their coffin, where they rest during the day and come out at night, stalking victims to satiate their need for a continual supply of fresh blood.
What am I talking about here?
Vampires do die, or at least actors who portray vampires, and the other day, actor Ben Cross left us at age 73.
Let me explain ...
Yes, the actor was in the Oscar-nominated film from 1981 "Chariots of Fire" playing Harold Abrams, a participant in the 1924 Olympics who faced prejudice because he was Jewish.
Yes, the actor also played Spock's father in 2009's "Star Trek" film, so he is indelibly linked to that long-running franchise.
He had a long career, was a real actors' actor from all accounts, but to me at least, he will always be remembered as Barnabas Collins in the reboot of television's popular gothic soap opera "Dark Shadows."
But in 1991, this classically trained actor portrayed television's favorite vampire in the reboot of "Dark Shadows" on NBC, which had morphed into a nighttime soap opera from its daytime roots for this revival.
As many of us recall, Jonathan Frid was the first Barnabas Collins on the ABC daytime original. What was supposed to be a few-episode run to boost a failing daytime soap opera's ratings turned into a real influx of blood into the show, and it became a cult favorite, perhaps the first soap opera to successfully market itself to a younger audience.
Frid became one of the hottest actors on television, and he was so popular that he was featured in teen magazines like "Tiger Beat" and "16" alongside the likes of Davy Jones and Mark Lindsay.
The original "Dark Shadows" had a nice five-year run, went off the air, but then was up there in the pantheon of cult shows such as "Star Trek," as a show that just would not die, vampires and all.
Finally, in 1991, NBC premiered a newer, more expensive and perhaps darker version of the show, and although it ran just a few months, Cross was a definite standout as the vampire Barnabas, a fiend that viewers did not hate, but pitied, as he struggled with his blood lust.
Cross was certainly a sexier Barnabas than Frid was, as television had opened up a bit from 1966 to 1991, but the actor handled his role with great aplomb, being pleasured and tortured almost at the same time.
He "got" the Barnabas character, but he made it a bit different than Frid's characterization. While Frid was quaint and proper as the role demanded, yet could be horrific too, Cross' portrayal was all of these, too, but he was less stilted than Frid, and was able to display his acting chops a bit more than his predecessor.
Perhaps it was the fact that we are talking about a daytime soap opera format versus a nighttime soap opera format, but Cross seemed to relish the role, and tried to make it more rounded than Frid could do in such a stilted format that he portrayed the character in.
Cross was definitely the highlight of the short-lived show, which ran into so many pre-emptions and postponements due to the coverage of the Gulf War that viewers did not even know when, or if, it would be shown from week to week.
I liked Frid in the Barnabas role, and I liked Cross's portrayal too.
So with all of his many acting accomplishments, I will still always remember Cross as the second Barnabas Collins, and I will certainly remember his portrayal of the character way better than the Johnny Depp botch job from the most recent "Dark Shadows" film, which has to go down as one of the 10 worst films ever made in my opinion.
Heavens, that film needed Cross, or Frid, both who understood the character, rather than Depp, who made the character into little more than a sap, someone that you can't pity for his affliction ... heck, give me the stake and I will take him out of his misery.
There is talk of yet another reboot of "Dark Shadows" on television, and while Frid's Barnabas will always be the standard used for the character, Cross's Barnabas cannot be discounted.
I think if this thing comes to fruition, and we do get a new "Dark Shadows," the actor portraying Barnabas will take the best of both actors' portrayals and meld it into something new, something believable, something that we can all watch and be amazed by.
Ben Cross tried to do just that, and looking back at the 1991 reboot, I do think he accomplished just that.
In this world we live in, this is about as inconsequential a story as you will ever read, but I thought I would talk about it today anyway.
It appears the Great Khali was released by the WWE yesterday.
Those are the reports, and if true, it is kind of sad.
Yes, the WWE creates its own world, and a lot of people are into this male soap opera things, a lot of people could care less.
But the Great Khali appears to be history, and to me, that is really too bad.
When this guy burst onto the scene several years ago, he was really something to behold.
He was almost the second coming of Andre the Giant.
Khali was absolutely huge, well over 7 feet tall, and they promoted him by showing you how he could crunch a basketball to bits with his bare hand--yes, hand. One hand was all he needed to squeeze the life out of a basketball, and presumably, another wrestler's head.
Yes, he was a villain at first, a villain that you really were in awe of.
There were problems with Khali right from the beginning.
In real life, the wrestler was, believe it or not, a police officer in India by the name of Dalip Singh Rana. He had a wife and family back home, but was urged to try pro wrestling because of his size.
First off, his English was unintelligible, and mic skills are crucial in the WWE.They even paired him with a manager, at first, one who could enunciate well better than Khali could.
His English became a running joke for his entire WWE tenure.
However, if you can't get your point across verbally, well, it is almost as if you can't wrestle, either.
And that leads to the next problem ...
He couldn't wrestle. At all.
He would basically stomp his opponents, and then put his huge foot on them, and the match was over.
He won the heavyweight championship briefly with this style, but to real pro wrestling fans, it was phony.
He became almost a laughing stock, and after a while, the WWE writers really didn't know what to do with his character, and they relegated him to substandard matches and roles while he learned to wrestle.
He never really did learn to wrestle, but he did learn a few moves.
It didn't help.
Because of his size, he became a comedy player in this wrestling troupe, nicknamed "The Punjabi Prince" and some other names, and his segments most assuredly led to comedy, not much else.
He was even paired with the WWE's resident midget, Hornswoggle, in a sort of "Mutt and Jeff" teaming, but it simply did not work.
Now, he is history, evidently, and it really is too bad.
The guy had no talent, but just to look at this guy, well, if you had to wrestle him, it probably sent shivers up your spine.
Andre the Giant knew how to wrestle; this guy simply did not, but they both shared one thing: the fans loved both of them.
I will be sorry to see him go. He was a presence, if nothing else.
But in the world of the WWE, nothing is final, so maybe he will return at some point in time.
Who knows.
But the long and short of it is that I will personally miss the Great Khali, and I am sure millions of wrestling fans around the world will too.
Newspaper obituaries are generally short reviews of a recently deceased person's life, and sometimes, these entries in our local newspapers features scars and all, mixed in with the person's accomplishments, triumphs, and yes, mistakes.
But an obituary should never, ever ... and I mean never ... be used as a weapon, be one sided, be used to pour gas onto an existing fire, but the other day, our local Long Island newspaper did just that with its obituary or Robert Trump, the younger brother of President Donald Trump.
The first four paragraphs of the obituary--which you could look at here for yourself at https://www-newsday-com.cdn.ampproject.org/v/s/www.newsday.com/amp/long-island/obituaries/robert-trump-dead-1.48195476?usqp=mq331AQFKAGwASA%3D&fbclid=IwAR3llaw5DkuO6wD47yizCLpwRORCT4lzU6e5z93Rjw8ozxg3zCBs5AwmvgI&_js_v=0.1 --were pretty straight forward, the way an obituary should be written.
But once you get past about the fourth paragraph, you can obviously see an editorial slant in the obituary, the likes of which I have never seen before.
Using Newsday staff and wire reports to turn the entry into more of an attack on the President than a remembrance of his much lesser known brother, the newspaper--which as you know, I have attached before because of its anti-white crusade and obvious partisan leanings--commits what I believe to be a journalistic sin, stooping to the lowest of the low to make this entry into more of an editorial than an obituary.
"Both longtime businessmen, Robert and Donald has strikingly different personalities," the obit said in the fifth paragraph. "Donald Trump once described his younger brother as 'much quieter and easygoing than I am, and the only guy in my life whom I ever call "honey.""
Later, another paragraph stated, "The president, more than two years older than Robert, admittedly bullied his brother in their younger years, even as he praised his loyalty and laid-back demeanor.
"I think it must be hard to have me for a brother, but he's never said anything about it and we are pretty close," which the president said in his 1987 best selling book, "The Art of the Deal."
Yes, the president said all of these things himself, or at least wrote about these things himself, but the constant comparisons obviously make Robert out to be "good" and Donald out to be "bad." And, of course, these quotes are taken out of context, so the obit reader has no idea why these things were said and if they were done tongue in cheek.
"When he worked at the Trump Organization, he [Robert] was known as the nice Trump," said Gwenda Blair, a Trump family biographer to the Associated Press, in a later paragraph. "Robert was the one people would try to get to intervene if there was a problem."
Further into the obit, to make the President look even worse compared to his almost "angelic" brother, the entry talks about the period in the 1980s, when Donald chose Robert to oversee an Atlantic City casino project "calling him the perfect fit for the job."
"When it cannibalized his other casinos," the future president "pointed his finger of blame at Robert,"said Blair. "When the slot machines jammed the opening weekend at the Taj Mahal, he very specifically and furiously denounced Robert, and Robert walked out and never worked forhis brother again."
Yes, the obit does talk about Robert's support of the Marine Corps Toys For Tots program, his own dives into the society pages, his support of his brother and some other things specifically about Robert, but in general, the entry portrays in its own way--and with its own editorial stance--what a "tyrant" Donald is, even to his own brother.
This is just bad, bad journalism, some of the worst, most one-sided reporting I have ever read.
And an obituary is no place to be editorializing.
But in today's world, newspapers, television shows--including the nightly network news--and all facets of the written or electronic word can editorialize anything they want, even if it is so obviously non-objective reporting.
The public must be aware of this, and whatever side you stand on, this type of reporting does not serve anyone, just feeds into the belief that the press is unfair, and is not the way to report the news.
The Heimlich Maneuver, or whatever it is called today, has been in the news recently in New York.
Evidently, a severely autistic young woman choked to death on a piece of food when her handler, who was supposed to be by her side at all times, stepped away for a moment or two.
The whole story is a tragedy, and if only her handler had been by her side, this maneuver could have been used, and the autistic woman's life might have been saved.
This maneuver--which has various permutations, but the main one is standing behind an adult who is choking, coming in from the back, placing your clenched fist right below the rib cage, and pushing in--has been around for a long time. I think I first heard about it in the 1970s.
Previous to this, if someone was choking, you hit them on the back, gave them water, etc. This was found not to be very effective.
Anyway, the reason I bring this whole thing up is that I am going to tell you about a brief episode that happened more than 20 years ago between myself and my daughter.
I was divorcing her mother at the time, and I had weekend visitation. We went to a local McDonald's as we always did, because my daughter adored McDonald's at the time. She was about four years old, and she just loved that place, so we ate there every time I saw her.
Anyway, we got our usual meals, me a Big Mac and her a Kid's Meal with a cheeseburger.
We were eating, and all of a sudden, my daughter starting turning colors. She wasn't really coughing or gagging, but I could see that something was wrong.
I jumped up, realized that a piece of the hamburger was caught in her throat, and really without thinking, applied the Heimlich Maneuver to her little frame.
By the second or third push, the piece of hamburger popped out of her throat and mouth like a missile coming off the launch pad.
She got her color back, I asked how she was doing, and when everything settled down, we continued to eat, almost as if nothing had happened.
I remember an elderly gentleman sitting at the next table said to me, "Good job," and that was pretty much that.
Happily, I have not had to do something like this again since that time.
So the current story conjured up that prior incident between myself and my daughter.
And the funny thing is that now that my daughter is 26, she still remembers the incident, even though it happened when she was such a young kid.
Anyway, if you don't know the Heimlich Maneuver, it can safely be applied to anyone, even pregnant women and babies, but it has to be done in a certain way based on who you are applying it to.
It is simple to learn, and thank God I was watching the news closely during those years, because that is where I learned how to apply it. If I didn't know what to do, who knows what would have happened.
People choke on food all the time, and not just little kids who are constantly putting things in their mouths, but older people too.
It is a good thing to know, and you can always keep it in your back pocket and pull it out when needed.
So learn the maneuver, especially during the holiday season, when eating is almost as important as the gift giving.
I saved my daughter's life all those years ago, and I just wonder if the handler was around, whether this young autistic woman would still be around too.
As kids, we all knew when the ice cream man was coming into our neighborhood, and when we heard the bells resonating from the truck, we knew that it was time to get together our pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters and run to the ice cream truck to get the cool confections offered by the truck during the hot summer.
Good Humor was our preferred brand, even though other trucks crowded our area too. But there was something about Good Humor that fed into our own personal good humor, and whether it was ice cream or ices--Strawberry Shortcake or a Firecracker--Good Humor was our main ice cream outlet.
I remember that our driver was Frank, a nice older guy--at least to us he was older--who wore the white outfit with the hat with glee and a lot of aplomb. He happily doled out the ice cream to all of us, and his smile was infectious/
Then one day, Frank wasn't there anymore.
A younger driver came out of the truck, and all of us kids asked him where Frank was.
"Frank died," the younger driver told us.
It was never the same for us.
And it continues to be never the same all these years later.
Case in point: on Good Humor's 100th anniversary, the venerable ice cream brand has added race and politics into its operation, changing its tune heard on the trucks because some have complained that the song that they used was racist.
"Turkey In the Straw" was the long-time tune heard on these trucks--honestly, I don't remember it coming from Frank's truck, but maybe it did, I simply do not remember--and some claim that the song was widely performed in minstrel shows, with white singers in black face, and the song was modified to contain racist lyrics.
But no, even if that actually did happen--I wasn't around in the 1800s, so I can't attest to that--the lyrics were never part of the music emanating from the Good Humor truck, only the music. And it is not part of the original song's lyrics, as demonstrated at this link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VsnZxfkkoKQ
But of course, in today's world, where not just this song, but EVERYTHING has racist undertones, Good Humor almost had to take action, because in this cancel culture, if you don't remedy problems that you never paid attention to before, well, you will be canceled yourself.
So, they have employed a black rapper--I only use the term "black" to emphasize that they aren't using a "white" rapper to remedy a supposedly racist problem--and they now have a new, up to date jingle that will only rankle those who are into, well, maybe classical music or opera or monk recitations.
Here is the new jingle: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=broo2NZmiDE
It was created by Wu-Tang Clan's RZA, not only to update the jingle and bring it into the 2000s, but also to erase a jingle that lasted for a century before there was even any whimper whatsoever that it was racist.
And the song itself, isn't racist per se; it is racist when its lyrics were changed.
So stupid. So sorry. So idiotic ... I think I will cancel Good Humor out of my ice box.
And while we are at it, isn't the name "Wu-Tang Clan" racist too?
Sure, "Clan" is spelled differently than "Klan," but I object to it anyway, because I want to.
Change that name! It offends me and millions of other people who never gave it a second look before this moment.
I wonder what the next thing will be for people to be offended about?
No, I am not talking about anything biblical here.
Over the weekend, on Sunday, my family had nothing doing after having a house full of people--my wife's side of the family--on Saturday.
It was a slow day.
I am not into football, as I am sure you know, so how was I going to spend my time on Sunday afternoon?
I was flipping from channel to channel, finding nothing to watch, and then I believe I came to the Fox Movie Channel, and lo and behold, I finally found something ...
and it was called "John and Mary."
This was a somewhat notorious film when it came out in 1969. It featured two of moviedom's hottest young stars at the time--Dustin Hoffman was just coming off "Midnight Cowboy" and Mia Farrow was just coming off 'Rosemary's Baby"--and the film was directed by Peter Yates, who was just coming off his own success with "Bullitt."
After having the soundtrack in my collection for years and years, I finally sat down and watched this movie, which, even with its star power, is kind of obscure, certainly nothing more than a footnote on Hoffman's career.
Even though the film got mixed reviews, I kind of liked it, even if it is nothing more than a period piece from a different era.
I am drawn to movies and TV shows that depict New York City at that time, even in brief glimpses, and this film certainly does that.
It centers on "John," played by Hoffman, who is what came to be called an urban yuppie, a furniture designer who is young, has a lot of money, and knows the right people.
He goes to a party where every inch of real estate is taken up my another partygoer, and he innocently meets the shy--at least on the surface--Farrow, playing "Mary," who was dragged to the affair by some friends.
Mary works in an art gallery, and she is having a long-time affair with a much older politician with a wife and family.
Hoffman and Farrow's characters hit it off, and in 1969 movies, when two people of the opposite sex hit if off, well, they end up going to bed.
And for peeping toms, yes, you do see brief, full rear nudity of both Hoffman and Farrow.
Anyway, then we get right into the late 1960s thing, where each one wonders why they slept with each other, surrounding the meaning of life as we knew it back then. We hear them talking amongst themselves about everything from the origins of an organic egg (yes, in 1969, this is not a new concept) to the music that John likes, and we also hear their thoughts in their head ... why did he/she sleep with me, do I really like this guy/girl, etc.
Hoffman's character is drawn to clingy girls, which he doesn't like, because he is somewhat of a private person. Of course, it has to do with his mom, who was into causes, all of which she schlepped her son to.
He had been in a relationship with a model, and she basically took over his house, and he didn't like it. They weren't together anymore, but were still good friends.
Farrow is a waif, but sexually aggressive, and she does cook a meal for him, on a whim, which he kind of likes, kind of doesn't like, because it brings up memories of his former crush, and probably of his mother, too.
One thing leads to another, and they argue, and Farrow eventually leaves.
Before she leaves, she writes her name and phone number on the bathroom mirror, but Hoffman washes it off--only to realize that he wants to see this girl again, and that he only knows what part of Manhattan she lives in, but he doesn't know her name--and she doesn't know his.
This is all spurred on by Hoffman going to a party held by his old girlfriend, where he feels completely like a fish out of water.
He knows he wants Farrow now, for sure, and takes a cab driver (not my father) on a whirlwind tour of Manhattan in the 1960s, which is really pretty interesting.
Anyway, one thing leads to another, and the two meet up again, very innocently, and yes, as happens so often in movies from 1969, they go to bed with each other once again.
And they finally find out each other's names. John and Mary. No last names. They laugh, and go at it.
The end.
The film received generally poor reviews, but the acting won raves, and both Hoffman and Farrow won various plaudits and award nominations for their roles.
But looking at it in 2014, if there was ever a period piece of a different time and place, this movie was it.
The film isn't long at all--maybe 90 minutes--and it keeps your attention, even though a lot of the sentiments are of a different era.
I kind of liked it, it kept me going, and for once, I see that Farrow was a pretty good actress in her younger days.
You really have to drop any preconceived notions of her as we know her today--wrapped up in the tangled web of many foster children and being Woody Allen's former better half--but back then, she was sort of Twiggy and Katherine Hepburn rolled into one.
Hoffman, we all know, turned into one of Hollywood's finest actors, and to this day, he is still a name that almost guarantees a fine performance. Farrow, on the other hand, has been so enmeshed in the Woody Allen saga that her acting skills aren't even recognized anymore.
So there you have it. Something to do on a boring Sunday afternoon.
And what's even better is that I have included the video, below, if you are interested in watching it.
And using another late 1960s-early 1970s catchphrase ...
