Friday, November 22, 2013

Even though it was 50 years ago, and I was only 5, I can still remember the pall cast over our house the Friday night after Kennedy was killed.

Sunday nights always seemed darker than other nights. (Maybe because I had school the next day) But the Friday night after Kennedy was killed was a whole new kind of dark. 

Miley, for the love of god, quit tinkering with yourself. You look like the vandalized Barbie doll of a destructive 5-year-old.

Last time that bear ate a lawyer he had the runs for two weeks, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

Yankee Alex Rodriguez furiously stormed out of an arbitration meeting; he wanted to slam the table with his fist, but, since it’s the fall, he swung three times and missed.
It is the 150th anniversary of Abraham Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address, but historians do not agree on which of five versions is correct. Personally, I think the shakiest version is the one that starts out; “Four score and seven years ago, for shizzle my bizzles.”
There is a viral video of 78-year-old golf legend, Chi Chi Rodriguez, hitting a ball off a sign that then hits him. Where did it hit him? Let’s just say it narrowly missed his Rodriguez, but it hit his Chi-Chi’s.
The Oxford Dictionary has named selfie the word-of-the-year edging out twerk; asked to comment, a USC English major responded; “OMG, it is like all totes amazeballs random how effed up the English language is, whatevs, LOL.”
If it was up to me, we take Toronto Mayor, Rob Ford, and Miami Dolphin alleged bully, Richard Incognito, and throw them both in a closet with one deep-fried turkey leg; whoever comes out alive is in charge of Obamacare.
The latest Kanye West video features his naked wife, Kim Kardashian, on a motorcycle; I think the name of the song is: “Why Our Baby Will Have to be in Therapy For Life.”
Chris Brown – still on probation for brutally beating his ex-Rihanna – got kicked out of anger management rehab after he threw a rock through his mom’s car window. Call me crazy, but I am starting to think Chris has temper issues.

Final thoughts on JFK assassination
Regardless of political beliefs, you have to admit the Kennedys gave us, as a Nation, a huge source of pride. It was like having Brad and Angelina in the White House. The problem with the death of optimism is it can drive you crazy with “What if’s?”
The Civil rights advances under Johnson would probably have been Kennedy’s. With the bitter taste of the Bay of pigs still in his mouth, it is highly doubtful Kennedy could have done worse than Johnson in Vietnam. Nobody could do worse.
Forgot for now all the conspiracy theories, there is no doubt Oswald shot Kennedy. How could such a worthless, useless, pathetic piece of crap kill the most powerful man in the world?
Normally a strong dose of perspective is a good thing. Not in this case. For 50 years we have had a serious case of: if a loser like Oswald can kill a man like Kennedy, what is the point of anything?
When I told my 15-year-old daughter about my memories of Kennedy’s death, with my mom sobbing during the funeral, she said she had the same memory of September 11th. She was also an upset toddler with her parents standing in front of the TV, hands over mouths uttering “Oh my god” over and over again.

Here's hoping her baby won’t have a similar memory.

And here is my final question: why won't history and Americans admit the truth that when Jackie saw Jack's gory head shot, she was trying to get the hell out of there? 

Thursday, November 21, 2013

Now, Miss Daisy, you took that turn with me and you was the one holding the map, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

A British Scientist claims he has invented a pill that provides the intoxication of alcohol without the hangover; it’s called the “People Who Are Too Lazy to Be Drunks” pill.
The Kardashians held a yard sale over the weekend with the proceeds going to charity; it went well, they sold all of their souls and every ounce of their dignity.
Remember that idiot at the Buffalo Bills game who slid off the railing and fell 100 feet to the next level only to be saved by landing on another spectator? He’s having a bad week. He just lost his job. He is no longer an Obamacare website technician. 
Toronto Mayor, Rob Ford, has admitted to smoking crack in a drinking binge, he has been accused of hiring hookers and of sexual harassment. At the rate he is going Ford will have no choice but to become the Gov. of Florida.
Toronto Mayor, Rob Ford, says he goes to the gym two hours a day. He then asked, “A gym is what they call where they sell crack and hookers, right?”
Lots of people this Thanksgiving will serve a Turducken: a chicken stuffed into a duck stuffed into a turkey. Here is my question: how stoned were the guys who thought up the first Turduckan? “Dude, stuff a chicken into a duck into a turkey? That is jacked-up.”
The Oxford Dictionary has named selfie the word-of-the-year narrowly edging out twerk; in a related story, that humming sound you hear is Ernest Hemingway spinning in his grave.

We need a new food.
My life has been marked by the constant discovery of a mind-blowing new foods. First it was cereal, then a PB&J, then mac and cheese, then pizza, then egg rolls. Then a hamburger. What? Somebody put some melted cheese on top of it? What angel from outer space descended and gave us that? Just when you didn’t think pizza could get better, it did with deep dish pizza.
Then I went to California for college and the world of regional differences were opened up. There is better Mexican food than Taco Bell? One of my college roommates showed up to a barbeque with a piece of fresh halibut. In Chicago, if you showed up at a barbeque with anything other than a hot dog or hamburger, maybe chicken, they would have thought you were a member of a strange cult.
But a piece of fish? What are you? Some kind of Bob Marley rasta freak? At Santa Barbara, the tri tip Santa Maria style barbeque seemed like a holy revelation. Salsa on grilled roast beef? What a wonderful planet we have. Mussel and clam bakes on the beach. Sushi. Thai.
The restaurant I worked in during college, the Elegant Farmer, had a lot of special treats: top sirloin. Beef ribs. Perfectly fried chicken. But on Sunday brunch. Oh my word. The eggs bennie and da kine burrito with chorizo where out of this world. But even they weren’t as good as the giant bowl of sliced bananas that marinated in whipped cream and cream de cocoa.
Then I moved to New York and my food paradigm was exploded. You call deep dish pizza? Fuhgettaboutit. Italian food taken way beyond spaghetti and meatballs into luxury food. Steaks at Peter Luger’s that made me want to fuss at my dad for making me eat those charcoal- lighter- fluid -charred hunks of beef jerky.  There is an entire block with nothing but Indian restaurants.
Ahh, but the calzone. How was it possible I could have lived my life without a sausage and mushroom goey-cheese calzone? And really good and cheap Chinese food that is delivered to your door about the time you hang up the phone ordering it.
Then I moved back to California, but this time in San Diego and discovered more regional delights. Carne asada. Fish tacos? Are you kidding me? How can something that sounds so awful, and launched so many jokes, be so good?
When we moved into this house and bought a real gas grill, a whole new side of me was created. Turns out I can cook. With a great grill suddenly I was not ruining the chicken and tri tip. Then one day an Emeril recipe called for me to make a wine-reduction sauce. What is this devil magic? I can make a sauce? I was like Oscar in “The Odd Couple” who thought gravy just came.
Now I have hit a dead end. We need a new food.
Something from the jungles of Borneo that is a combination rice, bread, meat and cheese that has to be cooked in a ten foot deep pit with Borneo hard wood called Chungasa and wrapped in palm leaves. And it has to be cooked with the magic herb called Dingwhoozy.
And then when you eat it, you have to eat it with special Borneo fliggaga sticks and dip it in flinkhankle sauce and you have to sit on the floor with pillows surrounding yourself so that, if you pass out from pleasure, you don’t hit your head.
And it will be called: Bushansnookus.
Random thoughts:
Jennifer Love Hewitt is such a beautiful woman, but when she smiles she turns into Jar Jar Binks.
Would you feel better about the Knock-out Game if the targets were hipsters in skinny jeans and wool hats?
When are we going to change the name Foodies to Douchies?
Ferris Bueller is what Hollywood thinks is a cool suburban Chicago kid. Nope. He would have been a semi-popular theater geek at best. Vince Vaughn is actually what a cool suburban Chicago kid was. Take Judd Nelson in “Breakfast Club” and make him less douche-like and that would be it. Or maybe Charlie Sheen in “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.”

Let’s put it this way. Actor Adam “Not those Baldwin brothers” Baldwin is very cool now. He never would have made it as a cool kid in a suburban Chicago high school. Bill Murray would have and did. As his brother, John, my friend, did.

There are three kinds of people in this world:

The best are the people who are kind to everyone. That includes my wonderful wife and daughter. Not only are they kind to people who cannot benefit them - and this is where they leave me in the dust - they are even kind to people who are unkind to them. I only make the bottom of this category because I do not qualify for the huge drop down to the next category.

A-holes. We all know them, but they are flourishing. They used to be restricted to Mall Cops, vice principals, driver's ed teachers and angry DMV workers. Now they are all over, like the drunk woman at the Jack Johnson concert who held her smart phone above her head the entire show to record it knowing and not caring she was blocking the view of everyone in back of her. 

But at least a-holes are consistently a-holes.

The third kind of people are the absolute worst. They are the ones who are charming to people who they need something from then turn into utter a-holes if you can't do something for them. This includes Donald Trump, Kim Kardashian and Chris Brown. And Junior League suburban Chicago area Martha Stewart minions. 

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

This is Wally's go-too position, up in the little valley between the back of the couch and the cushion. Yesterday, I was basically where Ann Caroline is, but on my side and Wally reached out and gently placed his paw on top of my head, like he was giving me a doggy-Pope blessing, and left it there. And that is how we both drifted off to sleep.

Until Wally started dreaming about chasing a rabbit,  or some such, and started thwapping me repeatedly on the head. Oh well, the snooze was nice while it lasted . . . 

Maybe it's me, but things still seem a little tense between former President Clinton and President Obama. Like today, when Obama gave Clinton his Medal of Freedom, Obama was wearing a yellow hazmat suit and splash goggles. 

If it was up to me, we take Toronto Mayor, Rob Ford, and Miami Dolphin alleged bully, Richard Incognito, and throw them both in a closet with one deep-fried turkey leg; whoever comes out alive is in charge of Obamacare.

Since you asked:

As I have come by my Kennedy-phile-ness honestly from my mother, one of the things I have found fascinating about all the movies and documentaries coming up on the 50th anniversary of JFK's assassination, is one huge factor is being lost in time and history: The cities in Texas were only a couple of generations removed from the wild west.

People in Texas rode horses, wore cowboy boots and cowboy hats, carried guns and shot them. Sometimes at each other. In 1963, Houston, San Antonio and especially Fort Worth were glorified cow towns and Dallas wasn't much more sophisticated. 

This was a fact sorely underestimated by the Kennedy White House when they arranged this trip. Famous for his recklessness, getting out and shaking hands with the Texas crowds and driving with the top down was nuts even by Kennedy's brazen standards. 

Toronto Mayor, Rob Ford, tells "Today's" Matt Lauer; "I'm not perfect."

To which comedians all over the country responded:

Tuesday, November 19, 2013

Hey, hey, my, my, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers
Embattled Toronto Mayor, Rob Ford, challenged the city to hold a snap election; they did and Ford was voted; “Guy you’d least like to follow in an airplane bathroom.”
A survey claims, of all the accents in the US, the Southern accent is the sexiest; this survey consisted of people who have never seen “Here Comes Honey Boo Boo.”
Prior to the USC-Stanford game, USC fans held up signs taunting Miami Dolphin alleged bully victim, Jonathan Martin, who went to Stanford, as feminine and weak. Of course the USC students had to ask the Stanford students how to spell the signs.
Stanford lost a heart-breaking game to USC, 20-17; the Stanford fans were inconsolable. Or as USC students call inconsolable: a big word I don’t understand.
President Obama’s approval rating is at an all-time low 39%. The only way things could be worse for Obama if it turns out Osama bin Laden is alive and tried, but could not log on to the website to buy insurance.
Since you asked:
There is such a guilty pleasure from watching the fall of an evil faux celebrity. We saw it with Paris Hilton, the cast of “Jersey Shore” Spencer Pratt and Heidi Montag and now we are seeing it with the Kardashians. And with the Jersey Shore and Speidi, we also got the additional guilty pleasure of watching them go broke. Lindsay Lohan is not in this group because at one point before she killed her brain with booze and drugs, she had talent.
That ain’t happening with Paris and the Kardashians. Too much cash.
What is so amazing about it is they cannot see the 15-minutes-of -fame–is-over forest for the sycophant ass-kisser trees. They genuinely believe they are at the height of their fame and still shooting up. Bruce Jenner will be particularly fun to watch implode.

There have to be signs in a town as brutal and ruthless as Hollywood, where Woody Allen said it was worse than dog-eat-dog, it is dog doesn’t return other dog’s phone call. No bookings on talk shows. The next fragrance line postponed, the book tour cancelled, the agent doesn’t return calls.