LEST YOU BE JUDGED

Before you abuse, criticize and accuse
 walk a mile in my shoes J.South

When I first began to write this blog, a year and a half ago, I was determined to try to write, “true” to myself.

I think this post won’t be very popular but it’s how I feel.

The death of Whitney Houston has started a firestorm of opinions.

The vitriol is stronger then it was when Amy Whinehouse died.

Why?

I read this line somewhere:

When you judge another, you do not define them, you define yourself.

Those who have read my blog know that I spent a large part of my career in radio as a Music Director/Program Director.

In that capacity it was my job to choose the music that the station played.

Back in the day, before MTV and Music Videos, radio was the only place to hear new music. (Scary, huh?)

Record Companies, who were trying to get an artist played on the air, sent the artist on a tour of the major radio stations, hoping that “putting a face” to the artist would help get that artist record played on the air.

Now I can shock you with some of the names of the artists who were major recording stars that came to my office drunk, high or just naturally nasty.

Vulgar language, unbelievably unkempt and racist remarks were just some of their more endearing qualities.

And I worked for an Adult Radio Format.

In the late sixties and seventies the rock bands that came to WMMR and rock stations were downright scary.

But my job was to play the music that the listeners of my radio station wanted to hear.

My point is their personal life was of no interest to me.

Only their music mattered.

So Whitney Houston, Amy Whinehouse, Kurt Cobain, Michael Jackson and Elvis all were talented artists who were not very successful in their private lives.

So?

Listen to I Will Always Love You or The Greatest Love of All and tell me, is she the biggest selling artist of the Eighties or drug addled singer in the late Nineties?

Well, she’s was both.

Is Elvis the King of Rock and Roll or a bloated, overweight pill popper?

Well, he was both.

Was Amy Winehouse, a Grammy winner this year for her duet with Tony Bennett, or was she self-destructive?

Well, she was both.

We are all “cafeteria” fans.

We will take their stardom and their talent but not their faults or their indiscretions.

Houston’s version of the National Anthem should be played at every sporting event and spare us all the butchered renditions.

If they brought happiness or joy to your life through their artistry, that’s all they owed you.

Because, through their own weaknesses, they brought irreparable harm to their friends and family and the ultimate harm to themselves.

Did not a mother bury her daughter?

If any of you ever buried a child it must be horrific.  

Was Cissy Houston’s lost any easier because her daughter was flawed?

Many times I’ve used my own life as an example of how a person can make choices based on the talent of people not their shortcomings.

My heart surgeon was one of the top surgeons in the country.

I chose him for my bypass surgery based on his professional life.

If his personal life was marred with divorce, excessive drinking (I hope not on the night before my operation) none of that mattered.

His bedside manner also left a lot to be desired.

Think of Gary Cooper with a scalpel. (Have someone explain who Gary Cooper was.)

Should I have based my decision on that affable fun-loving surgeon who wanted to operate on me with a rusty can opener?

I am alive today because of his talent.

His weakness in his private life didn’t diminish his talent

Too often we want the Athlete, Movie Star, and Recording Artist to excel in every aspect of their lives.

Just like us, right?

I think money plays a large part of our disenchantment.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard, “Who the hell is worth that much money and “Give me that much and I’ll show you.”

We’re so positive that we know how we would act in a situation that we can’t begin to fathom.

The irony is that the millionaire artists are always talking about a more “normal” life while the people with the “normal’ lives want stardom.

Watch what you wish for.

Watch “American Idol or any one of the other music “reality” shows and listen to the very good unknown talent you hear week in and week out.

With very few exceptions you will never hear from them again.

That’s somewhat of a yardstick to measure against the talents of  Winehouse or Houston.

As a young child I remember my grandmother saying, “Frank Sinatra was the best singer she ever heard until he divorced Nancy and married Ava Gardner (that puttana)

After that Perry Como was the best singer!

That makes the same sense as those who loved Houston’s talent but hated her private life.

I know that in my life trying to do the right thing was a constant battle that I think I lost more than I won.

I can’t imagine how I would have reacted if those setbacks were on Inside Edition every night.

It's not the critic who counts, not the man who points out how the strong man stumbled, or when the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions and spends himself in a worth cause; who at the best, knows in the end the triumph of high achievement; and who at the worst if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory or defeat.
T. Roosevelt

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TIME IN A BOTTLE

Oh, for boyhood's painless play, sleep that wakes in laughing day,

health that mocks the doctor's rules, knowledge never learned in schools.  John Greenleaf Whittier

Once or twice a week, I receive an email of videos or pictures depicting the decade of the 50’s.

And it got me to wondering.

Who is producing these high quality, music synched videos and more importantly who is watching them?

If you literally grew up in the decade of the fifties as I did, your age would seem to rule out the use of the Internet. 

I was thirteen in 1950, and twenty three when the decade ended.

There are maybe one percent of “us” on the Internet.

Then for whom are these videos for?

I thought I would investigate the 50’s appeal.
When I last visited my High School/Old School year book, I was reminded of the Jim Croce hit song, “Time in a Bottle.”

I realized that the faces in my year book with few exceptions were “Time in a Bottle

                                                                                      Dorian Gray 

I have not seen the guys in this picture, in fifty-five years, so in my mind they will always look like this.

Everyone remains eighteen.

Full heads of hair, pimple free faces (touched up by the photographer) and blind optimism shining on every face.

This was before cholesterol, before divorce, back when our parents were still alive and our problems were whether to go to the movies or to the dance.

Where else could you become eighteen again and not do a thing?

We all spent four years together but except for the guys from my neighborhood, I have no idea what happened to eighty percent of that class.

But we share memories that are completely ours.

Our football team remains undefeated and City Champs.

The Senior prom at the Ben Franklin Hotel is still perfect.

Our graduation at the Academy of Music is still unforgettable.

And then there was:

When you were madly in love. (weekly)

When you graduated high school still a virgin, but lied about it.

When there was Black Jack chewing gum, wax coke-shaped bottles with colored sugar water inside. (Yummy)

(Say hello to your dentist, your endocrinologist and your  cardiologist)

Pea-Shooters, (you’ll put someone’s eye out), metal ice cube trays with a pull lever. (That you used and never refilled, big trouble.)

We used film and blue flashbulbs and waited a week to ten days for our pictures to be developed. Of course if your finger was in front of the lens you got sixteen pictures back completely useless, and of course paid the full price.

(Kodak declared bankruptcy this week.)

Dreaded phrases like, “You can go when you show me your homework.”

We drove our father’s Packards and Studebakers, Nash Ramblers and Hudson Hornets.

In the 50’s, Paper Mate made a leak proof ball point pen. (are fountain pens still in use?)

We listened to Sonny Till and The Orioles and their million seller, “Crying in the Chapel.” We danced to “Little Things Mean a Lot by Kitty Kallen and “Why Don’t You Believe Me” by Joni James, who was born Giovanna Carmella Babbo.

Joni appeared at New York’s Town Hall in 2006.

She was seventy-six.

We played with the “magic” Ouija Board (I didn’t move it, did you?!).  

There were telephone exchanges that had names instead of numbers as prefixes.

My phone number was (Ho)ward 8-0949.

Chuck Berry’s Maybelline and Johnny B. Goode.

The decade ended with a terrible plane crash that killed Richie Valens, Buddy Holly and the Big Bopper (J.P.Richardson,

Jiles Perry)

In a 1972 record, Don McClean dubbed it The Day the Music Died.

We watched radio with pictures, called television, with fifteen minute shows, and the end of the televised day was ten thirty some nights and eleven some other nights.

The networks (all three of them) signed off with the waving American flag and the playing of the Star Spangled Banner. (I always wondered why)

Forgotten names like, Dave Garroway, Jerry Lester, Gary Moore, Barbara Hale, David Janseen, Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis.

Trivia alert: Elvis Presley made his television debut in 1956 on the show, “Stage Show,” hosted by bandleaders Tommy and Jimmy Dorsey.  Not the Ed Sullivan Show!

Elvis made five more appearances on that show.

(You never know when this kind of information can come in handy!)  

There were “Air Conditioned” signs with icicles painted on them on movie marquees.

We went to the local movie theaters and saw a Warner Pathe newsreel, a cartoon, a serials with names like, The Drums of Fu Manchu and the Mysterious Dr. Satan, where the good guys were left in a burning building and you had to come back next Saturday to see if they got out.( they always did.)

And then, the coming attractions and two movies (a double feature) for ten cents.

If you were older than thirteen, the cost was a quarter.

But I still don’t know why this era has such appeal to younger people.

They probably don’t know any of the names and places.

And why should they?

If they are twenty one, they were born in 1992!! (That can't be right)

And then last week I picked up a basketball for the first time in twenty years.

I was waiting for a friend at a recreation center and saw a ball lying under the basket.
Now I never was a "Bill Sharman" (another 50's reference) but I could throw them up there with the best of them. (called pumping in the 50's)
So I thought I would shoot a few baskets while waiting. 

Remember when you were six or seven and you strained with two hands to get the ball to the hoop?

Well it was exactly like that.

I couldn’t clear the rim!

I thought, why would they have a raised the basket to fifteen feet?

The ball wasn’t official either.

It weighed three or four pounds heavier than a regular ball!

Suddenly, it all came back to me, why we loved the 50’s.

Click:  http://oldfortyfives.com/DYRT.htm

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Merry  Christmas 
There's nothing sadder in this world than to awake Christmas morning and not be a child.      

Me, on the left with my brother Rich in the Evening Bulletin (1942?)

These are Few of my FavoriteThings 

My granddaughter Amanda’s face and laugh….Judy Garland (Esther) singing “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” to Margaret O’Brien (Tootie) in Meet Me in St. Louis….Dylan Thomas’ “A Child’s Christmas in Wales”... The tree in Rockefeller Center…. The lyrics from the song, Christmas Memories, “the smiling faces of all the children, who now have children of their own.”…The sled outside Woodmill Ct....Zu-Zu’s petals….My annual Christmas party (I miss it)… Donna Marie’s escarole soup…the roaring fireplace on Alan Place, with its hidden compartment for wood… Shanks…Alaistar Sim, as Ebenezer Scrooge, the quintessential Scrooge and his classic line, “Can you forgive a pigheaded old fool, for having no eyes to see with, no ears to hear with, all these years?”…….Arlene’s ravioli… The seven fishes dinner at Florence and Andy's on Christmas Eve...real Christmas trees…The light show at Wanamaker’s (or whatever they call that store now)…. The Dickens’ Village in Strawbridge’s (or whatever they call that store now)….Santa Claus…The Christmas concert with the Philadelphia Boys Choir and The Philly Pops Orchestra Jennifer’s sweet potato thingy…                                 Me Again

Gabby Giffords…Macy’s Thanksgiving parade from the bleachers in front of the Gulf and Western building in NYC… N.Y. Sun’s reporter, Francis Church’s classic, “Yes Virginia, There is a Santa Claus… Gnocchi Bolognese, for lunch, at an outdoor café in Sienna… Hiding that special Christmas gift in a really “good” place…Without sounding self-serving, I never cared about getting gifts. I was much more excited about going crazy trying to find that “special” gift and felt more excitement when that person was opening it.

I’ve been talking about one of my “new” favorite thing, for the last few months

Here it is.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_OFMkCeP6ok

   Best Christmas   

Any one when Donna Marie and Rob still believed in Santa Claus.

4:15am on a cold, windy, Christmas morning, walking  to church with my cassock & white collar over my shoulder, on the way to High Mass.
 I sang in an all boys choir for six years.
(I can still sing the entire second soprano part to
“O Holy Night!”)
Walking alone, hearing the church bells, made me feel “holy,” every twelve year old, Catholic boy’s dream.

Or the one where on Christmas night there was a knock on the door.

When I opened it was snowing & my best friend’s six year old son was standing there.

The rest of the family was hiding in the bushes.

They had driven all the way to North Jersey to surprise us.

We all took a glass of wine and with our kids jumping and squealing in glee and with no coats on, we took a walk in that peaceful silence that accompanies the first covering of snow.

The year I gave, my teen age son, Rob a special gift and he was so happy, he cried.

It has snowed on Christmas eve and sometimes it has snowed on Christmas day but to be an official white Christmas it has to start snowing around 6p on Christmas eve and continue into Christmas morning (Trust me, I know these things.)

Last year, I mentioned a strip club, that I pass, that has this sign out front.

Thanksgiving Night Tradition!

NUDE Pumpkin Pie Wrestling

 It’s good to know that some traditions are in safe keeping!

This year, never resting on their laurels (so to speak) they have added another line to the sign;

Whipped Cream Available!

And you thought all the good ideas were taken!

January sixth is the Feast of the Nativity or “little Christmas.

Legend has it that three wise men saw a new star on December 25^th & traveled twelve days to Bethlehem to find the star.

Hence, the twelve days of Christmas.

Christmas trivia:

The names of the three wise men were Gaspar, Melchior & Balthasar. (You never know when this can come in handy)

In 1952, the Catholic Church in Boston, temporarily banned the song, “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus!” on the grounds that it mixed Christmas & kissing!?

And while we are talking about the Catholic Church, did you know that January first is a holy day of obligation?

It was originally “The Feast of the Circumcision of Christ” but following the Second Vatican Counsel, Pope Paul V removed the Feast of the Circumcision of Christ from the liturgical calendar, and replaced it with the feast of the "Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God.” Do you suppose the reason was that too many eight year old school boys were raising their hands asking “Sister, Sister, what’s a circumcision?”
Just saying.

TRADITION

Tevye knew the importance of tradition and I was made keenly aware of tradition this holiday.

About thirty years ago, when I moved back to Philadelphia, I decided to start a family outing before the holidays.

Just a special day for the three of us: my daughter, my son and me.

We would go to Wanamaker’s department store in Philadelphia to watch the Christmas light show, the same show my mother took me to when I was a child.

Then off to Strawbridge’s department store for the animated figures that told the story of Dickens’s Christmas Carol.

Then lunch at some Christmassy restaurant and then a surprise.

Each year I would add something to the day.

A trip to Longwood gardens, a holiday movie or just walking down Chestnut Street to see the decorated windows.

I also bought Rob and Donna, a pin-on Santa Claus that they wore on that day.

A little while later my daughter-in-law Jen and my son-in-law Frank were added to the trip and both received their “Santas.”

This year the date was set and we met at my son’s house for the trip to Philadelphia.

And that’s when I received the best gift any Grandfather could ever expect.

My two and half year old Granddaughter, Amanda, met us at the door with a Santa Claus pin on her blouse!

And so to you from failing hands I throw the torch; be yours to hold it high…. 2012  
HAPPY NEW YEAR   

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Happy Holidays ??

  Someone walked into my life and made me realize that it would not work out with anyone else.

This time of year, many of us gather for Thanksgiving dinners, holiday parties and the start of a new year.

Last year (have I been doing this for over a year?) my thoughts about the holidays were serious, silly and strange (known as the three esses.)

Some of my feelings this year have changed, but many remain the same.

For some, it’s also a sad time of year.

Friends and family gone, or far away, remembrance of childhood holidays when life seemed so much easier, all can make for a depressing holiday.

But I’m a fortunate man.

When I think of past holidays, they are mostly all warm memories.

And as you get older you realize that your life is made up of the great memories from holidays, birthdays and vacations.

Sure, you can be sad this time of year but only if you have NO memories.

I am grateful for the good times of the past, rather than obsessing why they aren’t the same today.

And it’s not easy.

Memories of kissing that special someone until your lips hurt (do people still hang mistletoe?)

It’s saving the last ornament on the Christmas tree for someone who’s not with you. (I’ve done this for over thirty years)

It’s the day that Mom and Dad took you to the Gimbel’s Thanksgiving Day parade and you handed your letter to Santa and to his elves on the route.

It’s the day that Santa’s parade ended at Gimbel Brothers Dept. store at Eighth & Market Sts. and he climbed a fireman’s ladder to the Eighth Floor (Toyland.)  That marked the official start of the holiday season. (before the parade on Thanksgiving day there was not a Santa to be seen, anywhere!

(I know, we were weird, back in the day)

Then years later, it was taking my children to the Macy’s Day Parade in New York and watching the enormous floats from the bleachers in front of the Gulf and Western Building.

I think that is why Thanksgiving is misunderstood.

It’s not a day of excessive food.

Well, it is, but it’s much more than that.

It’s not the day for arguments and meanness.

I had Thanksgiving dinner for family and friends at my home for over twenty years.

And it was the best of times and memories.

It’s the day, when twelve people waiting for dinner for some four hours, realized that the oven wasn’t turned on.

It’s the day that the kids fed the dog the green bean casserole.

Or it’s remembering when the Detroit Lions and the Green Bay Packers were the only football game on TV. (It was always snowing)

Or it was the Turkey Trot with Anne Marie, the dance at South Catholic on Thanksgiving night after the South Catholic- Southern football game that morning. (South always won)

And of course it was the food.

Two years ago I was diagnosed with diabetes.

Telling an Italian two weeks before Thanksgiving that he has diabetes is truly cruel and unusual punishment.

I give thanks for a family who has helped me to stay healthy this year.

To the care givers who have dragged me kicking and screaming into a healthier outlook.

And I am most thankful for my daughter, Donna Marie and her husband Frank.

They are always there for me.

 

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Conspiracy of Silence

"All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing."

I knew when I sat down to write about Penn State that there already have been pages and pages written on the tragedy.

But there are things that haven’t been said that really bother me.

While the newspapers reporters and television commentators keep trying to figure out “who knew what and when did they know it,” You just have to be “street” smart and use a little common sense, and you’ll know the answer.

In a small community over eleven years?

HUNDREDS KNEW!!

In every scenario involving things illicit or illegal, people know!

This from the Harrisburg Patriot-News:

Spanning 13 years, two common threads run through the entire grand jury presentment. At each stage, boys voiced concern or pain or alarm at the conduct of Jerry Sandusky — or adults witnessed behavior they found troubling or alarming.  
And at each stage, other adults dismissed, minimized or failed to act upon those concerns

So these people mentioned what they knew or saw to their friends and family and those people told their friends and family, and the numbers grew exponentially.

When I was a teenager and we heard about Joe Schmo being arrested for drugs, stealing, etc.

People not from the neighborhood would say, “I’m shocked.”

But we (corner guys) weren't.
We all knew.

Maybe not the exact details but that he was in trouble didn’t come as a surprise to any of us.

In the Sandusky indictment there were repeated times that he was seen in completely inappropriate situations and nothing was said or done.

These and many others are the ones who when Sandusky was arrested said, “I heard a long time ago that there was something wrong with him.”

I guarantee you that some of the kids at Second Mile heard things like, “Look out for him or don’t let him get you alone.”

In the recent Catholic Church scandal, a priest from my parish used to prey on young boys who were away at camp.

The older kids (12 and 13) would tell the younger kids to look out for “The Midnight Raider.”

They knew.

They might not have known to what extent.

But they knew.

I know you can’t arrest everyone who is “different,” but alarms should go off when people, especially grown men, are “different” with children.

He had a basement apartment in his house where boys slept overnight.

His wife never thought it was odd that he visited his “guests” EVERY night?

He called a ten-year old victim SIXTY-ONE times on his home phone.

No one in this ten-year olds’ family wondered who was calling their son sixty-one times?

These, and a multitude of situations like this, fill the pages of the indictment.

How a six foot two, two hundred and twenty pound, former Penn State football player, could have witnessed an attack and did nothing is unconscionable.

He knew Sandusky!

Sandusky SAW him.

At very lease, take off your jacket and offer it to the child and lead him out of that room.

Of course a forearm shiver to Sandusky’s jaw would have been nice.

But hey, that’s just me.

Click on “Sandusky Indictment,” but I warn you it’s not for the squeamish or the weak of heart.

http://www.attorneygeneral.gov/uploadedFiles/Press/Sandusky-Grand-Jury-Presentment.pdf

For more strangeness, “Google,” Ray and Roy Gricar!

I wonder about something else.

Is this silence a “guy thing?”

Would this have gone on this long, if the Athletic Director or the School President, of Penn State, were women?

As in the Catholic Church scandals, the enablers were all men.

Seemingly, this was the case at Penn State.

Are men more “loyal” to institutions even when these institutions harbor degenerates?

It seems that the answer is yes, but why?

Is it an “Old Boys Network” view that the perpetrators are “one of us?”

Is the thought process that a child is expendable and that an institution or a church needs to be protected?

Who can honestly say that if they witnessed these acts, that they would not report them, even if the perpetrator was a priest, a coach, or even their own father or brother.

If you answered you would not, God help us all.

And yet another thing I wonder is did these atrocities happen in the past and that we only hear more about them now because of the information culture?

I know this; my Grandparents and my parents’ generations were highly secretive.

So were people in “responsible” positions.

Newsmen, Sports reporters, Government agencies (FBI) and all dispensers of information: Newspapers, Magazines, Hollywood studios, et al.

They all projected a “perfect” climate no matter the truth.

FDR was in a wheelchair most of his adult life but there was rarely a picture taken of him in it.

Mickey Mantle was a functioning alcoholic and most sportswriters knew it, but never reported it.

Rock Hudson was gay but the movie studios arranged a “marriage’ so that the public would not get suspicious.

Maybe the most powerful man in America’s protection agency, J. Edgar Hoover, for over fifty years, had myriad secret files on ordinary American citizens and extensive files on Presidents, politicians and celebrities.

Not to mention his sordid and secretive private life.

So could have scandals the magnitude of Penn States’ been kept from the public, “for our own good?”

Was that possible?

If my “street smarts” are still working then I’m afraid that this whole tragedy could get much worse.

I don’t think Paterno will live through next year.

It wouldn’t be surprising if Sandusky, who is free on bail, would try to commit suicide.

And from all I’ve read, pedophiles do not start their obsession when they’re in their fifties.

Sandusky has six children.

All adopted.

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 WE’RE MAD AS HELL

 All progress has resulted from people who took unpopular positions.

  Adlai Stevenson

I was wondering if I am the only one who does not understand what the hell is going on in Wall Street?

So I figured I’d ask around.

I wanted to know what the protestors’ end game is.

A very good and wise friend told me there is no end game.

That unlike protests that demand a direct and viable result this protest was based on the frustration of ordinary people who seem unable to have their voices heard.

Trying all the “normal” avenues of dissent, with absolutely no results, protest is the only option left.

In other words, “They’re Mad as Hell and They’re Not Going To Take it Anymore.”

There is a huge opposition to the messenger, if not the message.

That got me to thinking.

Hasn’t this always been the way?

Does this look familiar?

The 1960’s saw sit-ins and school faculty offices were occupied by students and many classes were held hostage by protestors.

There were marches on Washington protesting the war in Vietnam, with chants of “Hell No, We Won’t Go!”

“Hey, Hey, LBJ, how many kids did you kill today?"

Did the protestors really think that their endgame would be the end of the war? Maybe.

But they were “Mad as Hell.”

I think all protests are seen through different prisms.

In 1967 I was thirty-years old.

I was too old to be part of the protests but not old enough to be their parents.

I agreed with some of the messages but had a hard time accepting the messengers.

I think that is the same feeling, today.

Robert Zimmerman told us back then that “The Times They Are a-Changin’.

But because he looked like a street urchin and his voice sounded like fingernails scraping on a chalk board, not everyone listened.

And there-in lies the problems of all protests; it depends on your status in society.
If you are in your villa on Lake Como, sipping Appletinis, the protestors are the shaggy-haired unwashed.
If you are the father of three and can’t find a job then the protestors are comrades in arms.
But hasn’t it always been this way?
Weren’t the people who dumped the tea in the Boston harbor just saying, “We’re Mad as Hell?
Wasn’t Carrie Nation “Mad as Hell?”
Or the Suffragettes march on the White House?
And although I wasn’t there for any of these events, I am sure there was vocal and angry opposition.
Did these protestors know what their end game was? How about the Vietnam protestors?
How in the world could they have believed that sleeping in the Dean’s office overnight and holding a University hostage, would end the war in Vietnam?
History has the advantage of waiting for the outcome before they assign the heroes.
I think that when the usual avenues do not bring results than being “Mad as Hell” is the only recourse.
The only other necessity for a protest to succeed is commitment.
When a housewife from Cleveland joined the freedom riders in Selma, Alabama, she had no way of knowing that she would pay with her life for her commitment.
The protesting students at Kent State had no way of knowing that the Ohio National Guard would fire sixty seven rounds in thirteen seconds, wounding nine students and killing four because of their commitment.

There was a significant national response to the shootings: hundreds of universities, colleges, and high schools closed throughout the United States due to a student strike of four million students, and the event further affected the public opinion, at an already socially contentious time, over the role of the United States in the Vietnam War. And although none of these acts alone changed the course of history, I believe it raised awareness that eventually changed the course of history.
And maybe these present day protests will bring change for all not just the few.
But one thing is evident.
The protestors are “Mad as Hell!”
This is the speech by actor Peter Finch in the role as Harold Beale in the motion picture “Network.”
Listen to Paddy Chayefsky’s brilliant words, written in1976, thirty-five years ago. (click on)  

 Mad As Hell   

In the nineteen-sixties, apartheid was driven out of America. Legal segregation--Jim Crow ended. We didn't end racism, but we ended legal segregation. We ended the idea that you can send a million soldiers ten thousand miles away to fight in a war that people do not support. We ended the idea that women are second-class citizens. Now, it doesn't matter who sits in the Oval Office. But the big battles that were won in that period of civil war and strife you cannot reverse. We were young, we were reckless, arrogant, silly, headstrong and scared to death... and we were right! I regret nothing!     Abbie Hoffman

Ps. On Tuesday, November 1st, Bank of America announced that they were, in reaction to public pressure, ditching their plan to charge five dollars for the privilege of using their Debit card.

On the previous Friday both Wells Fargo and Chase scraped the identical Debit card fee.
Coincidence??


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THINKING OUT LOUD

A stream of consciousness is a narrative mode that seeks to portray an individual's point of view by giving the written equivalent of the character's thought processes.

Many times while driving along, I suddenly think of the movie, “From Here to Eternity,” other times I think of the record promoter in Seattle, Washington who I haven’t seen in thirty years and whose name I could never remember.

Obviously, the two have nothing in common and I often try to fathom the correlation.

Incoherency is one guess. (Fill in your own joke)

Here is an attempt to share this brilliance, in no particular order.

In writing this blog I get compliments from my friend, Stephen, who is a doctor and from my friend, Phil, who is a lawyer.

So, I’m going to ask the manager of the Cleveland baseball team or the coach of the Wash. football team to read my blog.

That way my blog will have been read by a Doctor, a Lawyer and an Indian Chief!

(O.K, It gets better, how could it not!?)

 

There is something called chocolate covered bacon.

A store in Times Square sells pop tart sushi!
     

My two year old granddaughter, Amanda, calls her parents, “Guys.”

On a recent car trip she was sitting in the back, in her car seat, and her mother and father were talking, with the radio on, in the front seat.
From the back of the car came, “Hey guys, can you stop talking?” I can’t hear Britney Spears!”

Sometimes I tease Mandi by grabbing a toy and play tug-of-war with her.
Right in the middle of, “It’s mine, No, it’s mine,” she stops and says, “Pop-Pop, you’re not being very nice.”
Nothing like being reprimanded by a two year old.

Slogan of the Housewives of ….

If you have had cosmetic surgery, look good and dress well, you don’t need a goal in life.

Is the word query, politically incorrect?

“Snookie,” the contradiction to natural selection, upon arriving in Italy, said, “Wow, there’s a whole other world out here!”

When asked to describe “class,” she opined, “class is if you don’t show your tits or ass!”

Ah, from the mouths of babes.

Was (Grand Master) Edgar Allan Poe on to modern music when he wrote, “Rap, Rap, Rappin', at my chamber door?”

When I complain to my doctor about a new ailment, he says, “Well Bob at your age, it’s to be expected.”

No, the only thing I expected at this age was wealth and power.

Eighty-seven year old Doris Day, released a NEW album, “My Heart,” with new and old material.

Listen to “Disney Girls.”

And of course, the eighty-five year old, Tony Bennett’s new album, is “Duets II."

Listen to “Body and Soul.”

Phillies fans were on the road to Nirvana,

Now they're on the road to Kurt Cobain.

In the early 50’s actress Ingrid Bergman was living with Italian director Roberto Rossellini although each was married to someone else.

The Catholic Church immediately banned all her movies.

Today, Angelina Jolie could win an Oscar playing Mother Teresa, if she had a great make-up artist.

I know this is my problem, a generational thing, but Kim Kardashian wore a WHITE gown! I guess one color fits all.

Virginity is so "yesterday!"

Returning from lunch at the radio station, I found our receptionist in tears. I asked her what was wrong and she said that she just got off the phone with a very rude listener.She said that he was angry and abusive.

I try to calm her and then she said, “the General Manager told me that I could hang up on anyone who was being profound.

I told her that if that ever happened, please transfer the call to my office, immediately!

Many moons ago I took my seven year old daughter to a fancy Italian restaurant in Wildwood N.J.

Just a father and daughter date.

After problems unfolding the linen napkins (me, not her) we had a great meal, although confusing the three forks and two spoons. (me, not her)

After a gooey, chocolaty, dessert thingy, we headed to the boardwalk.

As we approached the first amusement pier, Donna asked me if she could take a ride on the tilt-a-whirl.

I tried to explain to her that it was too soon after dinner and that she could do it, but later.

She turned teary, big brown eyes toward me, and with a quivering lower lip said, “Pleeease?”

She had no way of knowing that after that plea I would have BOUGHT her the tilt-a-whirl.

Two minutes into the four minute ride, Donna shared her fancy Italian dinner with everyone within twenty yards.

Cleaned up and sobbing she said, “Daddy, sometimes you just have to learn things the hard way.”

Now that’s profound.

Some Quotes I Love:

I wonder if illiterate people get the full effect of alphabet soup.” J. Sienfeld

 

“Sometimes I lie awake at night, and ask, 'Where have I gone wrong?' Then a voice says to me, 'This is going to take more than one night.' Charles Shulz

The surest sign that intelligent life exists elsewhere in the universe is that it has never tried to contact us. ~Bill Watterson

A friend recently sent me a list of “observations” from Steven Wright.

Although he’s known as a comedian his comedy is not traditional.

Here are some from that list:

Borrow money from pessimists -- they don't expect it back.

I plan on living forever, So far, So good.

I woke up one morning, and all of my stuff had been stolen and replaced by exact duplicates.

And here are two of my favorites of Wright that weren’t on that list:

I went to a restaurant that serves, "breakfast at any time"so I ordered French toast during the Renaissance.

Customer pulls up to a convenience store at midnight only to find the manager turning off the lights and locking the door.

Customer: “Your sign says, “Open twenty-four hours!”

Manager: “Sure, but not in a row!”

Stay Tuned



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bobrusso@comcast.net