That's Entertainment!

Ah, Nostalgia...

What a wonderful thing.  Ain't nothin' like a birthday to getcha a-thinkin' 'bout the past.

It's hard, these days, not to think that things were better in "The Good Old Days."  At least, life seemed simpler, less complicated.  There weren't as many choices and what choices there were seemed easy enough to make.

There were, for example, only a few TV stations from which to choose.  That's pretty easy.  Ed Sullivan or Lawrence Welk.  John Lennon or The Lennon Sisters.  Easy as pie. (My father preferred Welk so I am painfully hip to The Sisters but I did get to see The Beatles on Ed.  Thanks Dad...)

Now there are, literally, hundreds of stations to watch with numbers like 237.

"Honey...what's on 237?"

"I don't know but Oprah's on 236, 14 and 196."

"Which one do you want?"

"I don't care...you choose."

Yeah, right.

In a previous post I confessed to being hopelessly addicted to Law and Order.  It was one thing, years ago, when the show was just on one channel, NBC.  On such and such a day at x-hour, period.

Popcorn, slippers, cozy chair...Law and Order for a glorious hour.

Now I have to choose among three stations and three different versions of the show.  I'm definitely not complaining but it's hard for a man to decide whether to watch Lennie and Van Buren or Goren and Eames or Elliot and Olivia.

Three great casts, three great stories, three great outcomes.  I can, at least, take solace from the fact that, in the case of Law and Order, each version has the same music.  Slightly different arrangements but the same song, nonetheless.  "Boom. Boom", if you know what I mean...

Anyway, it feels as though our lives are interminably complicated these days, made so by so damned many choices and versions of virtually the same thing.

Cars, shoes, food.  How many fast food stores to we really need when they are, for the most part, all the same?  What is the difference, really, between a Big Mac and a Whopper?  Not much as far as I'm concerned.  I prefer the Whopper, personally, but they really are the same...a couple of bucks worth of garbage.

So, yeah, birthdays are great for looking back at the past, how it was "when I was young."

I don't want to go back, mind you, but I wouldn't mind fewer complications in my life.

I know, I know...it doesn't have to be that way.  I can just go with what I really want and ignore the rest.  But that's hard to do.  Really hard.

Especially when you want it all!  Cake and eat it too, ya know...?

Which reminds me.  My birthday cake was delicious.  Chocolate Ice Box Cake made by the loving hands of my caring, beautiful wife.

Layers of chocolate mousse and lady fingers covered with handmade whipped cream and beautifully decorated by my adorable daughter.

No complications there.  Love and chocolate.

Slam dunk!!

New and Improved

I think I speak for most people when I say that advertising is just so much bull.

"New and improved", "As seen on TV", "50% More!"

Almost nothing that is said in modern advertising is really believable.  Products may be literally "new", as in they are in new boxes or have some sort of new packaging but, by and large, they are the same old thing all over again.

And we are treated to smiling faces, snappy jingles and crisp graphics.  And we are wooed by scenes of lives lived with ease and, in some cases, grandeur.

One ad that is especially irksome is the one now airing for Jaguar, the luxury car company.

We hear wind whistling and we see white out conditions.  A man, clad in expedition gear, emerges from the blizzard and trudges toward the camera.  Cut to his destination, a mound of snow. He finds himself in the driver's seat of a car and the camera cuts to a closeup of a button reading "start."  His gloved finger pushes the button and we cut to a long shot of the mound as the snow explodes from it revealing a car, a new Jaguar.

We then see the car driving toward the camera and then cut to a wide shot of the car driving confidently down a snowy road as music swells and the voiceover tells us that this car will be ready for us no matter when or where.

Yay!  We are saved!  We have been walking aimlessly over the tundra seemingly lost to the ages in a desert of frozen nothingness only to be rescued by the durability and worthiness of this sheet metal- shrouded god of automotive genius.

PLEASE!   You have to be kidding me!  Please, tell me that you are joking when you try to sell me on the idea that a multi-thousand dollar luxury vehicle is the one that The National Geographic would give to its' intrepids as they launch off into the wilderness in search of new discovery and world fame.

Ernest Shackleton survived a year on Antarctic ice floes by his own guile and determination not because he had a Rolls Royce to drive around in.

No self respecting explorer would be caught dead (actually they would be caught dead...) trudging through the jungle in a glossy sheet metal 4x4 with a cat as a hood ornament and Michelen radials.

At the very least they would have a Land Rover with solid tires and a winch.  Not a "Range Rover" with a baby seat and childproof window locks.  Not a "Beamer" with heated seats.  Not a "Caddy" that gets 15 highway and 12 city.

The ad has an appeal but damned if I know what it is.  If I wanted to project an image of manliness and fearlessness I'd drive a four wheel drive pickup with a spare gas can and a trailer hitch.  I'd wear jeans and a Leatherman and I'd have my baseball cap on frontwards with a logo from some obscure fishing supply store in the Tierra del Fuego.

I wouldn't drive a Jaguar into a snow bank and then head off to plant the flag on some distant iceberg expecting to come back days later, start the thing and cruise off to the nearest -ced latte bar.

Advertising attempts to sell us stuff we can't afford and don't need based on the premise that we will be cooler for owning it.

Just cold and poor.  In a Jaguar (Jag-you-are...) in a snow bank.  With no cell service.

And definitely no latte.  The iced, yes. Not the latte...

Law and Disorder

Help me...PLEASE!

I'm addicted.  I can't control myself.  I'm a junkie.  And I'm smitten.  I have a crush on Law and Order, the Dick Wolf leviathan.

All of the spinoffs, all of the episodes and all of the actors. From Elliot to Huang to Goren, Van Buren, Lennie (may he rest in peace) and McCoy.  I love em' all!

I confess to especially loving SVU or SUV as we call it in my family.  It's available on three of the cable channels and it's almost always the choice when we sit down to watch television.

What I love most is the dialogue.  The characters are so well defined and have such wonderful, sometimes very funny, lines.  Finn is street smart, Munch is the intellectual, Cragen is the Dad and Olivia the gorgeous sister with whom you had better not fool around...on any level.

And Elliot is the tough former Marine with a big heart and a real, manly-man, tattoo. (I think I ran into Christopher Meloni on the street in Manhattan recently but wasn't sure so I didn't bother him, which I now wish I had to tell him how great an actor I think he is and how much he is missed on the show but that I hope he's doing well and what he loves and that we'll see him in something else again soon...)

And the story lines are so twisted!  They are derived from actual crimes but are somehow improved upon.  You think you know what's up and then Wham!  They throw you a curve ball.

It wasn't the personal trainer, it was the janitor.  And he was having an affair with the victim's brother who was a transsexual married to the personal trainer's former father-in-law.

Stuff like that.  And then the ADA takes over and has a confrontation with either Elliot or Olivia or both and then, at the last minute, changes her mind, but it's too late and the guy is acquitted and the music swells and the scene fades to black and the words "Executive Producer Dick Wolf" appear and it's over.

Well only for a second because on the USA Network they often run what they call a "marathon" which consists of back to back, endless (thank you GOD!) episodes from every franchise, all seasons, different casts and a wide range of stories.

Albeit, the program is a bit formulaic and predictable but it is a lot like a hot fudge sundae.  There are many elements and you know exactly what you're going to get and what to expect but it is always satisfying and, after a very short while, you always want another one.

Law and Order.  Olivia and Elliot.  Ham and Cheese.

Somethings are meant to be together.

Trivia Question:

What actor from Sex in The City was in the original cast of Law and Order?

Answer:

Chris Noth

You're welcome...

Black and White

Can we be serious for just one goll-durned minute...?

How many...now be honest here...how many minorities do you count among your friends?  How many have been to your house for dinner?  How many have you had a drink with recently?

I ask because I was struck ("I was struck" is a phrase used by pundits to seem erudite...OOOOO!....erudite, indeed!...to seem important.  Baloney... if, "at the end of the day", you were to ask me...) the other day when I was watching a commercial on television, by the casting choices.

There were several white women, one Asian, one Black and one Hispanic.

A lovely, interracial bevy to be sure.  But, seemingly, a departure from what I expect is the norm in our society.

I realize that I write from a White, European, American perspective.  That is the society I have come from and in which I grew up and now live.

I know that other societies are different and, therefore, the perspective would be different.

Someone who came from, and grew up in and now lives in, a Black, Asian or Hispanic environment would probably say the same thing.  They probably don't often socialize with people from other groups either.

I think it's true, however much we may wish it were otherwise, that "birds of a feather do flock together."

I was recently in a cafeteria at a major corporation and the above notion was in full display.  The Asians were all sitting together, as were the Blacks and the Whites.  There was very little commingling, if any.

Furthermore I think that racism is prevalent in our society, as a whole.  People tend to throw off on the "other", regardless of what the characteristics of that "other" is.

Yes, we have a Black President.  Yes we've had a Black Secretary of State and Black generals.  Yes we have an Hispanic Justice on the Supreme Court and Black Mayors.

But do we have an truly integrated society?  I think not.  The only people, save a precious few, who really care about Martin Luther King Day are Black people.  Obama's color was very much a part of his victories in many ways.

Columbus Day is for the Italians (but not the Native Americans...forgive me Sweetheart.)  St. Patrick's Day is for the Irish and the drunks.  Christmas is for the Christians and the shopkeepers and Passover is for the Jews and those who love a full bodied, yet somewhat precocious Manischewitz.  Etc., etc,, etc...

So the TV spot I watched didn't seem to reflect any reality that I am currently aware of.  Again, I ask you.  How many lily White women in the 'burbs sit around their living rooms discussing the latest advances in douche technology with their Black, Asian and Hispanic friends?

Not many I'm sure any more than their lily White husbands stroll the golf courses of our great land in thrall with the latest musings about erectile dysfunction, all the while patting the backs of Jamal, Ming and Jose.

So the PC police have succeeded in creating no real progress in the area of race relations.  What they have done, however, is create more opportunities for minority actors.

Yo!  Action, amigo.  ACTION!!

We Need More Gyros

A Gyro is a delicious Greek sandwich sometimes pronounced like the word "hero."

Not only does the world need more delicious Greek sandwiches (what is it with the recent popularity of Greek yogurt and now Greek yogurt in cereal...? A bid to help their economy...?) but we definitely need more Heroes.

We have practically none at the moment.

Especially in the world of sports.  Especially at the Tour de France level of competition.  Especially with people named Lance.

Give me a break.  I watched his interview with the over-celebrated and much-hyped Oprah Winfrey.  It seemed to me that he was hedging.  It didn't seem genuine.  It seemed calculated.  It seemed phony.

Maybe I'm naïve but it feels as though we had more heroism in years gone by, in "The Greatest Generation", as Tom Brokaw put it.

Men volunteered to go to war.  People dropped out of school to work supporting their families.  Men opened doors and children said "Please" and "Thank you" and "May I?"

We seem to have lost the ability to think outside of ourselves and are left with only self-absorption and ego-centricity.

Enough is never enough.  More bandwith, more speed, more caffeine.  Bigger, better, FASTER!!

And no one seems to be willing to make the sacrifices that were made in generations past.  We go to war on credit cards, don't want to see the dead bodies and get fat watching endless hours of mindless "Reality" television.  Do we really need to watch a half hour devoted to brassieres or celebrity dysfunction when our children are dying in deserts, "Over There?"

We are a population of takers, not givers.  Spare me the tired rhetoric about Doctors Without Borders and the soup kitchens and shelters that dot our cities. 

Those are a rare few individuals who understand the concept of giving for its' own sake.  Loving and caring for our fellow travellers with no expectation of monetary reward.

We celebrate Bill Clinton's ability to make millions on speaking tours but don't spend much time celebrating Jimmy Carter's Habitat efforts.

And when was the last time you heard about a millionaire sports star stopping long enough to shake an adoring fan's hand, let alone give a kid's mitt an autograph (I wonder how he's doing, Ol' Mitt.  Wasn't at the Inaugural.  Hmmmm.  Sore loser?  Couldn't afford a tux?)?

They are too concerned with royalties and "security" for that.  What they forget is that without the kid they are nothing and without the kid growing up to be an overpriced ticket buying adult they'll be asking not "where's my trailer" but "want fries with that?"  And "security?" What?  Is the fan gonna hug the guy to death?  Come on!  Most of these athletes can bench press most of these fans (maybe not the "potatoes" but at least the kids...) so where's the threat?

Heroism.  Giving of yourself and expecting nothing in return.  Not just giving of your life and limb but giving inspiration and example, love and respect.

A sandwich without tzatziki or lamb is not a Gyro.

A person without humility or courage not a Hero.

He's just on the cover of a box of Wheaties, which we all know is junk food...full of sugar but lacking in real nutritional value.

Correction

In previous posts I misidentified President Obama's daughters as Malia and Malika.  Their names are Malia and Sasha.

My apologies.

N(ot) R(eally) A(ppropriate)

The NRA has created an ad that, among other things, suggests that President Obama is being hypocritical by rejecting the idea of armed guards in schools all the while having Secret Service protection for his daughters.

If this weren't so infuriating it would be laughable. 

There is no parallel between the two cases.  The President's children are, by their very nature, potential targets of assassination.  They are the highest profile children in the world with the possible exception of the British royal family.

Average kids in average situations are, normally, not in anyone's crosshairs.  They get up, ride the bus and spend uneventful days in schoolhouses all over the country.

It is the regular children that we are talking about in this national debate about gun violence.  The kids of Littleton and Newtown and Taft who, because they were in the wrong place one day, ended up a statistic at the FBI.

Some of the children of the wealthy and powerful spend their days in gated enclaves patrolled by private security companies and are sometimes chauffeured to and from school on a daily basis by drivers trained in the art of evasive maneuvering.

The children of Sandy Hook were ordinary kids in an ordinary school in a small town in Norman Rockwell's America.  Wrong place, wrong time.

Malia and Malika Obama may be ordinary children but they live in the most un-ordinary environment possible.

Their parents are constantly concerned with their own welfare as well as the welfare of their children.  They are surrounded by highly trained and lethally equipped members of an elite force of bodyguards responsible for protecting a head of state and his family.

For the NRA to suggest that there is a link between President Obama's children's protectors and his lack of confidence in the "armed guards in schools" solution obscures the greater point.

Military style assault weapons are appropriate for the military and putting guns in school creates the possibility of more carnage rather than less.

And what kind of message is that to send to our young children?  Do we live in a police state where violence, or the threat of violence, is met with the potential for more of the same?

The proper message our leaders, whether lobbyists or legislators, could send is one of tolerance and patience and a willingness to listen.  Problems can be solved by looking at all options and then choosing the one that fits the situation.  Radical thinking only serves to marginalize rational perspective and, in turn, creates polarization and discord.

Put more love in school not more fear.