The Daily Danny

Airlines & Autocorrect

2012-02-17T12:14:00.000-08:00

Your Author Aping Indignatio

I have a message for theairlines. For what you charge, you should pick up my ass and carry me to theairport. You want thirty-five bucks for that suitcase? Then pack it. Andwhat do all the fees and taxes get you? The opportunity to purchase two dollarUSED headsets and a four-dollar back of corn chips.

Take the train. Theyhaven't figured out the travel scam yet and for 8000 percent less they'll letyou plug in your computer AND give you free wifi. And, if you're lucky, they'llhit something and all your food will be free. If they kill someone, then yourbooze is free.

Do you love autocorrect? Onmy phone, "It's a good thing" became "itself a cocoatunic". So I decided to type in "itself a coco tunic". And ofcourse up popped, "It's a good thing".

"Meet me at thegym" became "Met me atilla gum".

"Met me atilla gum"turned to "Which gym?" I told you my phone is smart.

Wine-ing Through Dinner

2012-02-13T22:50:00.000-08:00

The best things in life are free and that includes thetickets I received from my friend, Damon Kirsche to the opening night ofMusical Theater West’s production of “Man Of La Mancha”. I was 9 when myparent’s brought the Original Cast Recording with Richard Kiley and Joan Deinerinto our house. At one time I could sing the entire score, but everyone inAmerica was crazy about “The Impossible Dream”. I was crazy about “I’m OnlyThinking Of Him” mostly because of the trio harmony. (Typing that just now I realizethe prescient nature of my choice of favorite.)

Pat, me, Donna & Mom.

I asked Mom, for old time’s sake. She and Dad had seenRichard Kiley in the original tour. I wanted to have dinner since the ticketswere taken care of and made reservations for “At Last Cafe” in Long Beach. Ihad seen the restaurant on an episode of “Diners and Drive Ins’ in August of2010. I mistook Broadway for 4^th and looked for the restaurant on 4^th& Orange on several impulses, never thinking to look it up.

On our last visit, Pat and Donna took me for my birthday andwe had a terrific meal and though many complain of the cramped quarters, wethought it cozy. After dinner, we dawdled outside alongside a guy with a carryout container. “How was your meal?” he asked and we effused for a few minutes.
“Do you eat here often?” I said, indicating his leftovers.

“I’m the owner and chef.” It was John McLaughlin, the JM ofJM Catering. Some food is made with love. (If you haven’t seen “Like Water ForChocolate”, pause and do so now) John McLaughlin’s food is made with the fun,care, love and pure enjoyment he gets from his work. You can taste it.

Impromptu Wine Steward Rodriquez

Donna, Pat, Mom and I had a table for four. “The guy at thenext table has two bottles of wine,” Mom observed. His guest had not joinedhim, but he had the right idea, start out big!

Their pot roast is awesome, our wine—a Shiraz—the perfectpartner. After we had finished our bottle, the guy with the two bottles offeredus more. His two guests had arrived, but there was more than enough to share.The guy introduced himself as Jonathan—representing the winery he waspouring—Pierini—and knockout charm. “At Last” featured their wine and we tastedsomething called “Lovechild” that I swear had a caramel or butterscotch top. Weonly wanted more. When Mom startedtelling him about her single granddaughter at home, it was time for thetheatre.

It was hard to top that meal and good free wine, but by thetime Davis Gaines, (L.A. production of “Phantom Of The Opera” for years) as Cervantes /Quixote finished hisfirst number, it was clear Musical Theater West has another hit on their hands. LesliMargherita as “Aldonza” went up the edge of madness and held the audience. Thesets made sure we never left that dungeon but the lighting made sure theaudience was transformed as the dungeon became an inn, or windmills presented themselves.And dammit, but I’m STILL singing that danged score in my head. Go online, pickup the phone, get a ticket, fill every seat, and don’t let this performanceplay to thin air! Special thanks to Dr. Carrasco/Damon Kirsche. Not only is Damon a brilliant singer, nimble performer (costume changes in "Little Shop Of Horrors") and inspired graphic artist, he is a terrific cook and blogs about his adventures with Guardian Service Wear. I'll hook up a link to his blog on my home page here. Thanks, Damon!

And Another Thing...

2012-02-09T09:54:00.000-08:00

A 65 year old woman wasscandalized recently by a promiscuous 82-year-old aunt in her family, who wasapparently ALWAYS in the mood. "She can't walk, she can't see, she can'thear, how can she have sex?" The answer is simple: With the partthat’s still working.

Penn State is planning topay the legal fees for all the sex scandal cases with the proceeds from the webrights, not the trial, the molestations. (Oh, don’t boo. It’s a joke.)

A Glee Club Teacher in LasVegas was arrested on a sex charge ... apparently he was neither.

I love the TV show Glee—thephenomenon NO one will admit to watching, but it's the highest rate show intelevision. Everyone does it, no one talks about it, kind of like stealingSplenda from Starbucks. And don’t say you don’t, I’ve seen you.

An iPhone recently explodedin a woman's pocket on a Qantas Airlines flight. The cellphone burstinto flames minutes after take off. When they say, turn off your cellphone onQuantas, they’re not kidding. Have you heard that men who carry theircellphones in their front pocket might become sterile? They either won't beable to have children or they will only be born with two thumbs.

Super Superbowl

2012-02-08T10:05:00.000-08:00

My brother and his partner had a terrific Superbowl party,again. The kind of family, friends, football and food frenzy that I love, one that involveswagering and a cash prize. The party was also a “surprise” for Emilee; such asone can be when you arrive with your own cake. I took a photo of my brother,which is indicative of the Egurrola/Vera gene as Larry reaches across the cakethe instant the smoke dissipated, whipping the candles off the cake before theycould melt much. “There’s always another birthday, 15, 5, 51, you never know.”It’s scary how much you can take the boy out of the Mexican mother, but...

Em is a great niece. She and her brother Jason made a plate ofcaramelized bacon. You can come to my party anytime you have bacon to bring.Even the dog will let you in the door.

There is something about Superbowl thatpromotes super eating, and I love it. The commercials are always the best part. The volume always goes up andit’s the only time the replay button is used. The half time performance set offsuch hysteria that I imagine would greet the end of the Mayan calendar, which, perhaps, Madonna’s performance was. I know I’m unleashing the hatewhen I say this, but she seemed desperate to out Gaga Lady Gaga. It was miseryto watch and even more miserable to watch the reaction both in the room and read the comments inthe Twittersphere. I am surely the worst gay man in the world. In my opinion, she was a SonyWalkman unleashed in an iPod world and I think we have better things to get allworked up about. Like who does Angelica Huston’s embalming? Have you seen,“Smash”? I’m just saying.

Casual Friday

2012-01-27T14:38:00.001-08:00

Happy Healthcare Birthday

2012-01-25T09:32:00.000-08:00

Lily Tomlin onstage at Catalina Jazz Club

“Bruce (Vilanch) and I have a bet to see who can do themost benefits in a month,” was LilyTomlin’s opening line. Bruce, Writer-to-the-Stars, star of “Hairspray” and “Hollywood Squares”, hadleft the room cozy warm with laughter. His stories about the glamour beingbackstage at the Oscars, where he’s worked as a writer almost since theystarted giving them out, are gut-splitting. You haven’t laughed until you’ve heard Bruce on hissurreal Oscar moment; When Beethoven the dog went Number Two while flankingDolly Parton on live television. I nearly found it's possible to drown in a martini.

It was Kathy Fields Lander’s birthday party benefit forsingle-payer healthcare. Kathy, daughter of producer Freddie Fields,stepdaughter to Polly Bergen and for the last 27 years has been married toactor David L. Lander, best known for playing “Squiggy” on “Laverne &Shirley”. Kathie is a ball ofenergy and all her work for healthcare does nothing to dim that. She waselectric in her long-sleeved black lace skin-tight dress.

The whole party, including a performance by Kathie’sdaughter, Natalie and a Barbra Streisand impersonator, Steven Brinberg (www.simplybarbra.com) was a benefit forCalifornia One Care. Andrew McGuire and Don are working very hard to raise theprofile of this great program: Healthcare for All. And you cannot raise theprofile in Hollywood higher than Bruce Vilanch, Paula Poundstone and LilyTomlin, all in one bill. Paula is one of the fastest, brightest comedians intown and if you are in Southern California and have been to charity events, youknow that. Paula works tirelessly for many, many causes and even brings herkids along with her!

Sheila Keuhl, Torie Osborn, Bill Skeen

I was a guest of Dr. Bill. It was a great place to see themovers and shakers of the Everybody Deserves Healthcare movement that heoversees. Torie Osborn, Andrew McGuire, Sheila Keuhl were in great company. Sheilais a terrific speaker, funny, powerful and poignant.

The group I consult, Physicians for a National HealthProgram and California One Care are vibrating with the same message. We needhealthcare that covers everyone. I hope we get to work together soon. Iftonight was any indication, it won’t all be hard work.

Happy Birthday, Kathie! Great party!

Roostin At Rustica

2012-01-23T20:23:00.000-08:00

The Holiday Tree at LA Live

The plan was to grab a drink and have dinner somewhere downtown. I’d seen a place on Wilshire & 7^th, right down the street from Scott & Cam’s new place, but we were at the Convention Center, all parked separately and I figured L.A. Live would be a good option. So did a million other people. After walking from restaurant to restaurant, our standards lowering with each disappointing “45 minute to an hour”. Bill had been on his feet, pounding concrete floors all day, and we decided to pick up Mona’s car, gather everyone up and head deeper into downtown. Great plan, except Mona’s car was now a half mile back where we had just come from. Let me tell you, for having just risen from the dead, the gal has a lot of pep in her walk.

We checked two more places on the way to my initialsuggestion: Cucina Rustica[1],which we recognized as once having been a bank branch, next door to EngineCompany 28, another of our choices (The wait was two hours, online. I nevercould figure if we had to wait online, or inline, but the Macaroni & Cheesethere is worth an hour wait, but not two.) We called Cucina; they could seat usright away.

Saludos a todos!

We had Grey Goose straight up for the whole group and soon theFine Arts crowd mingling with the Kings fans over guac & chips while we allwaited an hour at the bar was a distant memory.

The appetizers came and Mona was the first to notice howfresh everything. Basil should pop, I’m told, and it did. When the minestronecame, Mona was in heaven. She’s always been a foodie and rarely a miss comesout of her and Marc’s kitchen. With that kind of track record, I’ll take yourrecommendation anytime. When she went OFF on how great the minestrone was, we grabbedspoons. We recommend it!

Ricardo is always up for a hearty meal so I followed hislead with the Pasta Siciliano. It was penne, a rich pasta sauce and eggplant;melted Parmesan capped the whole dish. Our waitress, Dion, had it at the top ofher “favorite list”. I broke out in a sweat, not because it was spicy, but afterthe calamari, soup, bread and bruschetta with incredibly fresh goat cheese, Iwas attacking some major calories all at once. Put two martinis on top of thatand I was really glad my $250,000 ride home was waiting on rails a block away.

And speaking of those martinis, maybe it was the reason that after the liveentertainment on the ride home, I was the only one who applauded after theperformance.

[1] CucinaRustina, 888 Wilshire Blvd., Los Angeles, CA 90017. (213) 988-8880. $$-Moderateprices. Bookmark it on Yelp.com!

A Day At The (Art) Fair

2012-01-22T15:34:00.000-08:00

Romel, Bill, Mona, Ricardo

Creativity is a major buzz kill. It can annihilate the wrongkind of buzz, the kind you don’t enjoy. Being around creative people dispelsnegative energy, and can even get the juices flowing for whatever creativelyexpresses you. I’ve seen people get creative making bread, gardening androofing a house.

Ricardo Palaez is a Columbian born, bay-area resident artistof note. We heard tell at least a dozen times at he LA Art Fair. I shuttled upon Metro to meet Dr Bill, Ricardo’s partner, and Romel Toro Carvajal, aprofessor of Fine Art at the University of Antioquia, in Medellin,Colombia. Romel is a delightfulsoul. What better companion to have with us than an art professor who announcedhe would take us to the Best Display at the Fair when we were done.

Ricardo’s piece was being shown by Axiom Gallery of SantaMonica. They had a special display wall so that Ricardo’s piece would beshowcased on it’s own wall. The 3Daspect of his installation, there is a piece which sits in front of the majorcanvas, allowed his piece to easily dominate. It first took our eye from 40feet away.

His piece is called “ Fritza, bitte sitzen” and is homage tothe work of Gustav Klimt. Many who passed were drawn to it, familiar withKlimt’s piece, which is integrated into the installation. The fabric of thechair in the original work is similar and Ricardo was able to find a terrificmatch with a piece that replaced ovals in the original work with the circles inthe found material. The textures from the fabric, to the patterns in the work,and the smoothness of the acrylic “frame”, it was crazy, magical, and resonatedwith Ricardo’s voice.

Damien Hirst exhibit

When we were done touring, Romel took us to his pick of theexhibit. IT was an enormous tractor painted light blue. Bales of hay and criss-crossedlight blue pitchforks clawed upward. Between them was a single canvas, thefocus of the whole shebang. “The Skull Beneath The Skin” by Damien Hirst. Hepointed to Bill’s cellphone, with its cute pastel dots as his background. Sameartist.

The whole tractor/farmtheme was outrageous in contrast to everything in the show. Except the cars, ifthat is what you call them. Onemade out of two front ends, the other out of two back ends. Everyone had to sit for a picture. Wedidn’t have time to wait: Weneeded to eat...and drink!

(Continued)

Inspiration

2012-01-21T10:18:00.000-08:00

It wasn't dead, it was only sleeping.

The Daily Danny Video Edition #1

2012-01-13T13:35:00.000-08:00

Sorry for the squint and apologies for having no key light.

If you have a question, send it by email or video.

(I'D LOVE VIDEO!) ProducerDanny@gmail.com

TokiDoki Danny!

2012-01-04T11:54:00.000-08:00

My resolution this year is to write more for this blog thanI did last year. Then I got an email from Mark In Japan who writes: I want to know why it's a "daily"Danny but only updated weekly?

The answer is easy: Iwrite every day; I just POST once in a while. And, just in case you didn’t buythat, I rue the day I picked that alliteration for my blog title. I do a lot of writing. The majority ofit is for my non-profit consulting work, and I have another blog for which Icontribute essays, but I do so anonymously. This column is meant to be eclectic and for the fun of it, but it can fall to last priority in a regular work week.

Mark wrote about afriend who does a “tokidoki”(occasional) blog) whose last entry was May of2011. Mark is anything if not economical. In two sentences he provided a gentlekick in the pants and made me feel better about it at the same time. I evenlike that word, “tokidoki”. I mayeven change the name of this blog to “TokiDoki Danny. It would certainly be accurate, though lacking somewhat as abrand image.

But I have been writing,you WILL see more regular posting here, and this year you will see video and afew of my short stories serialized here. You as a reader have made acontribution to me with your clicks and page views—Thank You! It’s time forvideo posts—you’ve seen them linked to my YouTube page during the last twoyears. www.youtube.com/showmearoundonlineThis year you will see a whole lot more; we’ve been shooting video sinceThanksgiving. It’s a two-man operation and since I’m only one guy, they take awhile to produce. I’m learning Final Cut Pro in the works. As I become deft atit, you’ll reap the benefits!

Happy BirthdayBecki! My sister is turning ...well, turning another year older, today. She gave herself a terrific birthdaygift—Riley and Rosie!

Happy New Year, Part 1

2012-01-01T08:37:00.000-08:00

I broke up with my boyfriend during the holidays and I’venever had so much fun in my life. To be fair, those two circumstances are bothtrue, but most likely unrelated. But, when in search of a great openingsentence, that one works.

The relationship had hit a major bump last yeararound the holidays and we had attempted a couple of “soft landings” over thepast year. The wreckage of what was left of us landed in a ditch afterThanksgiving.[1]

I walked though Christmas like a guy who had just lost his dog,which I had back in August, and during our family prayers over Christmas dinnerthe tears rolled, remembering that my biggest ally during heartbroken times wasmy twin, who we were spending our 16^th Christmas without. When youhave no taste for the holidays, the simpler joys surface and the gift of familytakes precedence.

My nephew Jason, all of 17, put his arm around me, “It’ll bealright, Uncle Danny”. That was one of the best gifts I received last year.

The gang of idiots at Captain Eo, which was
REALLY camp 25 years later. (I'm the idiot on the right)

Mom’s anniversary was the day after Christmas. Brother Larryinvited me to join a group of them that were taking Mom to Disneyland. Apaycheck-to-paycheck lifestyle only gets tight when things like the cost of aday at Disneyland pop up. I have to budget for that because credit cards arefor emergencies only. It was a treat to accept and it was a perfect way to losethe blues.

It's a Small World was on Christmas Overload!

We heard from Mom that Dad had turned down a job on theconstruction of the Disneyland Park back in the ‘50’s. The job offer wasextended without explanation. Apparently the workers would also be sworn tosecrecy. Besides, it was longdrive to L.A. to Anaheim. Dad turned it down. I had never heard that onebefore.

More than 2 million people were at Disneyland that day, aswell. There had been many updates to the park since I’d been last, but the bestand most useful “update” was the phone app that Whitney had. It detailed thewait times at all the rides and was able to tell us when “Pirates” closed whilewe were waiting in line.

Walt Disney would have approved of that, I think.

The next day Pat called and invited me to see Bob Seger atthe Staples Center. She had an extra ticket, I could bring a guest and it wasin a corporate box. I ran out and bought a Lottery ticket.

(Continued)

[1] I’m not pitching for your sympathy here, it took me weeksand more than a few false starts to even attempt writing about it.

Money and Shopping for Nothing

2011-12-12T00:20:00.000-08:00

Today I received a check for $4900. I’m gullible, I admit,but I’m not THAT gullible. The National Lottery Promotion was sending me acheck provided by one of their sponsors to cover the costs I will incur inreceiving my $200K prize. I was born October 14^th, which was twomonths ago, not yesterday. Mike suggested that I should deposit the check andsee what happened and I might have had it not been made out to my first nameand my ex’s last name. We used this gambit to identify the mailing lists fromfestivals and contests. This combination could have been from any of the GayPride festival drawings I’d entered us in.... back in 2008.

Within minutes I had found them on Scambook.com and, well,just an hour before receiving my check someone else had also been awarded myprize, in Kentucky. Dammit.

We did the Big Shop at Costco this week and guess I don’tget into Costco often enough to know you really CAN buy nothing, and lots ofit. Actually, it’s a packagedproduct with nothing in it, has no worth, and is recyclable. And there werehundreds of these cardboard nothing carriers, more were jammed behind thedisplay as if standing silently ready for a stampede of shoppers while negatingtheir environmental profile by their very existence. How old are the people running Costco? The time has come for swiping productcodes with your phone. Don’t adaptto an old marketing paradigm, people want your product. They’ll adapt to a newshopping order to get it, and wouldn’t you rather adapt than get shut out ofyour own game? SOMEBODY will makethe Costco experience cheaper, quicker and easier. It might as well be thepeople that invented it.

Mother Mary Comes To Me...and Big Lots

2011-12-08T10:03:00.001-08:00

"Garden Statue Mother Maria"

And just WHO is killing Christmas? I was in Big Lots the other day and came across this Too Good Not To Snap scenario. Being eternal, The Virgin of Guadalupe has no grave to spin in, otherwise she might. Big Lots has decided that's too ... what? ethnic? Mother Maria is not the same thing.

By the way: I noticed the cookies in the right corner only after I got home. When you're out performing an act of guerrilla photography, there's little time for framing. Still, I think it's the perfect touch for the photo.

Strolling Through Paradise

2011-11-29T09:15:00.001-08:00

Garden Meditation by Rev. Max Coots

A few of the blossoms in my garden.

Let us give thanks for a bounty of people:

For generous friends…with hearts…and smiles as bright as their blossoms;
For feisty friends, as tart as apples;

For continuous friends who, like scallions and cucumbers, keep reminding us that we’ve had them;
For crotchety friends, sour as rhubarb and as indestructible;

For handsome friends, who are as gorgeous as eggplants and as elegant as a row of corn, and others as plain as potatoes and so good for you;

For funny friends, who are as silly as Brussels sprouts and as amusing as Jerusalem artichokes;
And serious friends as unpretentious as cabbages, and subtle as summer squash, as persistent as parsley,
as delightful as dill, as endless as zucchini and who, like parsnips, can be counted on to see you through the winter;

For old friends, nodding like sunflowers in the evening-time, and young friends coming on as fast as radishes;
For loving friends, who wind around us like tendrils and hold us, despite our blights, wilts and witherings;

And finally, for those friends now gone, like gardens past that have been harvested, but who fed us in their times that we might have life thereafter.

For all these we give thanks.

You Are The Hero

2011-11-26T09:27:00.001-08:00

Occupy LA camp - 11/3/11

Doing consulting work with the Physicians For A National Health Program (www.pnhpcalifornia.org) I met a gentleman who is on the streets promoting single payer health system, he is the frontline of the war against the insurance company greed. He made this 2 minute 47 second film that is a perfect reflection of what I saw when I visited Occupy LA. As the movement readies to move from it's infancy on the lawn at Los Angeles City Hall into it's toddler phase, I'm including it here on the blog. Please click and watch:

"You Are the Hero" by Don Schroeder

Urban Living In Line

2011-11-14T17:54:00.001-08:00

I remember saying to my father while he was drafting at his board, "I like the lines"

"You're supposed to like the lines." he replied. It made sense to me right away. I may have been only 9 or 10, but my little mind understood: A part of architecture was about pleasing the eye.

I've been snapping images like the ones here on my cellphone. I've been doing it since I've been able to.

I was about to hop back into my car when this caught
my eye from under the canopy at the Arco Station.

Walking down Hollywood Blvd. A study in red.

On the platform at Del Amo Station. Memo to Metro:
That median is begging for a desert-scaping.

An upside to losing the iconic KFWB building?
A new view in the old 90028.

Occupy Healthcare

2011-11-10T16:48:00.001-08:00

I had talked myself out of it a dozen times the night before.Someone else would do it, I rationalized. By 9:15 I was kneeling with king sizedmarkers on the floor of my office, making my sign out of poster board. I mounted it on thick cardboard soit might hold up better. The march was scheduled for 11 a.m. at City Hall, I was the fourth onethere at 10:55.

Marching with the nurses in support of a tax on financialtransactions meant solidarity between the physicians group I consult andmembers of the CNA, the California Nurses Association which supports SinglePayer as a solution to healthcare reform. My sign read "EverybodyDeserves Healthcare" our new education campaign. I was certain I could getit on TV. I did even better.

As soon as I walked up to City Hall from the south on MainStreet, I realized the news media had been showing us only partial snapshots. After myfirst visit a month ago, the camp had grown to encircle the entire building.Dozens of protesters had crowded every square inch of what used to be the lawn.Tents were stake to stake, the nurses had set up a First Aid station. (It wasanother PNHP members Maureen Lennon who had emailed me to rally with them.)There is no way they could catch it in a single shot. To see that it's morethan just crazies is energizing. Clean, sane and well-spoken protestors are notgood fodder for the cameras. The CNA is an organized machine, the march"blue-suits" stood out like swimsuits at church. Who wears a suit andtie to a march? They were clearly in charge, pivoting like jackrabbits insearch of the phalanx of marchers they had expected by now.

I recognized a newsperson with a deadline, NBC's ToniGuinyard.

"I need to talk to somebody soon," she nervouslytold the guy with a camera.

"Talk to me." I was ready.

The camera lights snapped on and 2 minutes later shethanked me, posed for a pic at my request and was gone. Around the corner camehundreds of people in red shirts. The nurses had gathered in the parking lotbefore moving to their staging area. Suddenly a dozen cameras were on them. Iwas dressed in my work scrubs, and introduced myself.

"PNHP is here!" the news moved back through themarchers like a wave. Solidarity. With a long whistle, the march began.

"The banks got bailed out! We got sold out," wasthe chant. It rotated with "WE are the ninety-nine percent!" all theway down to Pershing Square. The suit guys pointed the way. The lead guy in atan suit and sunglasses, seemed almost bored, as if he had done this a hundredtimes, like a funeral director directing pallbearers while listening to the ballgame.

It was while we were waving to the uniformed policemanpositioned in some second story windows along the route that I got a text,“You’re on TV!” (If you watch the video, I'm 1:51 into the piece.)

Lunching For Healthcare

2011-11-02T20:59:00.001-07:00

I've tried to start this post a hundred ways and there isno way around this sentence: My girlfriend and I love to have lunch. Once aweek, we make a point of it. It started after a long illness (hers) and mydesire to a have people around that like to make playtime out of doingvolunteer work and she likes to do that. Both of us were suffering cabin fever,it was mutual assistance.

I've been spending a lot of time lately working on thehealthcare reform. My life has always been fuller and more satisfying workingfor a good cause. With the recent Care Now medical clinic events flooded withdemand for services, doing my part to help get healthcare for everyone seems agood use of time. Each week Mona and I beat the pavement in search of goods andservices for Physicians For A National Healthcare Program. (SOAPBOX SIDECAR: It'snot a preposterous concept, we already have one. It's called Medicare. The18,000 docs, nurses and healthcare pros of PNHP say FIX what's wrong withMedicare and give it to everyone. I've contributed to the creation of a neweducation program: "Everybody Deserves Healthcare".)

We had a successful House Party event in October, nowwe're turning to Trader Joes, Fresh n Easy, Bevmo and The City West Hollywoodto support a proposed Speakers Series for next year. It's a lot of schmoozing(my autocorrect actually knew that word!) and we get hungry. This week our workleft me on Hollywood Blvd at lunchtime. I've been passing a packed remodeledplace at Cherokee & Hollywood for some time. I made a mental note: Somecute Mexican name I could not recall. In order for us to meet I'd have to drivepast it and text Mona the address. The Low/high tech of it made it more fun.

"Loteria" was not crowded and by the time I hadparked Mona had already arrived and was seated on the patio. Great! We wereeating from the taquito sampler plate before five minutes were up, (ask formore "crema" before the waitress gets away!)

Mona had posole. I had the mahi-mahi enchiladas. We werein such a food frenzy I was half finished before the thought of adding amargarita invaded. The thought of wasting a good buzz on the 710 south at rushhour (i.e. ANYTIME) banished it.

"I've only noticed the place in the last sixmonths. How long have you been open?"

"Three years," the servaitress replied, so muchfor my powers of observation. Would never thought of coming down to this partof Hollywood Boulevard for anything but a Halloween wig or three suits for$150. Major changes have crowded the corners of Hollywood & Highland anddown at Vine Street, as well. The stretch in between that doesn't belong toScientology is catching up fast.

Mahi-Mahi Enchiladas

As we waited for our server to adjust the $5 charge forthe Loteria Game that had mysteriously been added onto our tab, we met awoman who was arranging for a display of appetizers to be photographed. We hadquestions about the availability of the restaurant for one of our events, aswell as their party fare. Perfect timing! The lady was the owner.

"Did you ever think of using black napkins?" Monaasked.

"No, why?"

Mona pointed to the white fuzz on her black outfit, andthen to half a dozen business suited men in the restaurant.

Cocktails, Mini tostadas, empanadas and dessert.
HAVE YOUR PARTY HERE (and mention my name)
Nothing will happen, just mention it.

"Black, black, black, black, black. Most peopleare here from work." she said, "They're all wearing black "

The observation was so obvious it stunned us all.

"That's why she works for us!" I said, whilegrabbing her arm and pulling Mona out before she was asked to replace themanager.

Next week we're looking for wine distributors. Mona says sheknows of great fish restaurant nearby. I hope they have good fried calamari ...and black napkins.

Happy Howl-aween!

2011-10-31T10:10:00.001-07:00

Don't Fence Me Out

2011-10-28T11:39:00.000-07:00

I caught a graphic depiction of the deterioration of theU.S. Postal Service outside the Main Hollywood branch on Wilcox. A once publicseating area is now gated and locked, a serious warning against unauthorizeduse hangs threateningly. One wonders if architect Louis Simon proposed thedesign element in his original plan, outdoor stone benches circling theflagpole, meant for a weary public to gather and discuss the rising postalrates. Perhaps it was a prescient design given the long lines inside. Speakingof design, one can't help applaud the enthusiasm with which the firm of Allison& Allison designed 16 windows for customer service. I don't know anyonealive who ever remembers seeing more than two windows open at a time, even atChristmas.

There was a maintenance worker cleaning a nearby sideyard, a six foot wide strip of dead lawn and anemic trees, also imprisonedbehind grillwork.

"Why the locks on the flagpole area?"

"Don't want nobody in there I guess", he said,sounding exactly like what the f is wrong with you? "Ain't nobody been inthere in years. They said it was the homeless.

"Were there homeless people sleeping on thebenches?" he knew I wasn't going to let it go.

"They sleep everywhere, you know. Can't fenceeverywhere".

Underlining his point is Selma Park, which faces the back ofthe post office, 100 yards away. The park is gated and clean. The grass andtrees are green, thriving and providing shade. The gate is wide open and thereare no homeless people sleeping anywhere.

Let’s hope whoever buys the grand old Post Office andattaches a multi-use residential and office tower to it will reopen the publicspaces and water the lawn.

When In Rome...

2011-10-17T22:59:00.000-07:00

When in Rome...

I was in Home Depot this morning and the cash register (if they still call them that) was taking video of me. As fond as I might be of seeing what I might look like on "Dateline", I decided that turn about was fair play. The woman at the Master Control Checkout Panel had no idea if what I had done was a no-no, I could tell by the scrunched up look on her face.

I went downtown to scope out the Occupy Long Beach people. They are a branch of the Occupy LA, which got its roots from the Occupy Wall Street movement. It was 9 in the morning and the cold, zero visibility fog had only started to lift. A young bright-eyed college coed and two "missionaries" from the Occupy LA camp had begun this camp with a ceremonial trek from the mothercamp downtown. The police had pushed the crowd out of Lincoln Park out onto the sidewalk the night before. The Long Beach Press Telegram did not bother to report it.

My Brother is the one on the right.

"They arrested two guys, a 30 year old guy and a 17-year old kid who put on a suit and refusted to budge when Police surrounded him. "We set up a few decoy tents, which they confiscated, but we made them look for us!" Rebecca reported, giggling at the memory. The teenager was one of two arrested for standing ground, the rest had retreated to the sidewalk, most left not wanting trouble. The General Assembly is the way to find out what the protestors want. It happens every night at 6:00 PM at Lincoln Park, Broadway & Pacific Ave. in Long Beach.

My older brother (in actuality, we are the same age between Oct 15-30ht every year) is on the cover of the recent issue of Antelope Valley lifestyle magazine. I post it proudly in honor of my very musically prolific big brother. He was recently at "Burning Uke" a ukelele event inspired by Burning Man. Are you as surprised as I was to find that out?

Thanks Mom, (she's a regular reader!) for the October birthdays party! The party had two chef's, Peter Lemos representing Heirloom Catering, his new employer! and Mom, who rocks one heck of a great chile relleno! Her zuchinni and carrot cupcakes were cream-cheese topped and disappeared like a politician after their sex scandal. Dixie and Bongo, brother Larry's "kids" came (Larry was in Kentucky on business) because they know what we all know, if you're not there, they'll talk about you.

Happy Birthday To Me!

Work Hard, Play Harder

2011-10-10T09:47:00.000-07:00

When was the last time you forced yourself to play as hardas you worked? I’m still anxious over “time wasted” but I managed to do bothwork with high concentration and focus for two hours, forwarding my projectsnicely, receiving surprise support, then I took two hours to take a little “me”time. Granted, one hour of me time was spent driving to “me time”, but I like alittle gym time to maintain wellness. It’s as hard for me as it is for anyoneto keep that promise, even though it’s been part of my regular routine for 23years.

Though I respect appointments, fire crews and lawenforcement, other people’s schedules, a TV program that hasn’t concluded,those chores I said I was going to get done, it takes an Act of God, or a moviewitn an Act of God in it, to get me to spend time on the things that areimportant to me. I’ve spent a lotof time singling out those things I would do if I REALLY knew time was too precious to waste. That was reallyhard. Now you’re telling me I have to DO them, too?

So, I sit presently on the couch in my office, keeping apromise to write every day before the other efforts steal away the time Ipromised to set aside every day to write.

Go play!

Now The Story Turns...

2011-10-07T22:46:00.000-07:00

In response to my last couple of posts, I received the following two responses:
1. If my back weren't killing me, I'd go out and join a protest in a heartbeat. Seeing liberals / real people finally DO something is exhilarating. I saw Naomi Klein on MSNBC last night. She gave an elegant explanation about why it's OK not to have a perfect, scripted message right now, in order to attract as many of the 99% to join the crowd. The people getting interviewed on the street seem to be very coherent about why they're there.

2. I love Jon Stewart. I love Jon Stewart. I love Jon Stewart.

The Daily Show
Get More: Daily Show Full Episodes,Political Humor & Satire Blog,The Daily Show on Facebook

Camp Disenchantment

2011-10-06T17:49:00.000-07:00

News From The 99

2011-10-05T18:47:00.001-07:00

Photo: Mario Anzuoni, AP

I went to the web tofind out what I’ve been missing lately in music. Tony Bennett tops the charts.He’s sharing the Top 10[1] with HankWilliams (!) Wynton Marsalis & Eric Clapton (as a duo!) Hugh Laurie, starof TV’s “House” and the Indigo Girls. Boy, have I been out of touch a longtime. The TV says Michael Jackson is on trial and I’m hearing the slurred wordsof dead man. And it’s raining. I believe if those aren’t the three signsannouncing the Apocalypse, they should be.

I, like so many others,have been asking, "Where are the people marching in the streets?!" asbureaucratic fat cats line their pockets with money from the middle class. Then the Occupy Wall St. people pitched tents in lower Manhattan. Atiny number, yes, but I believe the tip of the iceberg of average Americansentiment. It took three days for the media to notice them at all, and whenthey did it was as if the message was still somehow cloudy and unclear. I wondered whatpart of "We are mad as hell" was unclear to them.

Good Choice For Rainy Day

OccupyLA has been campedout on the north lawn of City Hall downtown for a week now. Surfing the mediacircus that was sure to surround the Conrad Murray trial, their gamble paidoff. I've been seeing them nightly on local news. Martin Luther King said thatthe measure of a man is where he stands in challenge and controversy. There wascertainly controversy in their action and challenge in the downpour that hadbegun during the night. I decided to check it out for myself.

Surfacing at the CivicCenter Metro station, the rain, waiting like a kid around the corner to shout"Boo!” let go with a wallop. Walking down Temple Street, I saw the canopieskeeping the equipment dry, providing the world with gavel-to-gavel coverage ofthe trial of Michael Jackson's live-in physician. Engineers and technicianshuddled beneath like wet puppies, the "talent" presumably nice anddry inside the County Court building. If this indeed was Ground Zero of a mediacircus, it was more like Seaworld today. It looked like less than fun.

Approaching Spring St. Isaw the tents. They huddled on the perimeter of the north lawn, soaked, flaps down.Their camp appeared deserted, save for a quartet of vocalists singing in Latin.(yes, Latin!) Behind them, below my sightline as I approached, were the protestors.Several were drenched and barefoot, all were crowded under tarps that lookedready to overflow pockets of water right on their heads. This was their"meeting hall". I was just in time for today's meeting.

I spotted a young lady,Cheryl. I recognized her from the NBC News piece that I'd seen the nightbefore. She pointed me to a young man who was clearly in charge, his clipboardoverflowed with wet paperwork. The meeting was to confirm that day's action andschedule meetings about future actions.

"Where arethe Michael Jackson picket line people meeting today?"

"Who is in chargeof outreach to the Skid Row action tomorrow?"

"Mic check! MicCheck!" shouted one guy and others joined in chorus, "Mic check, miccheck", then he spoke in phrases and waited for others to echo.

"I'd like torequest..."

"I'D LIKE TO REQUEST..."

"That we establisha rule..."

"THAT WE ESTABLISHA RULE..."

This was going to be along meeting.

Camp Canteen

The position of themedia reporting the encampment, expected to last another two months, is thatthe protestors lack a clear overall action as a result of the expression. Asmuch as I had hoped that personal inspection would prove detractors wrong, itwas not the case. Though I saw three unions represented by middle-aged Latinomen in union caps, I had the sense that these guys were not Labor's front lineguys. THOSE guys were probably on vacation after their recent late-nightsaverting a supermarket strike.

The meeting ended andthe rain, unfavorable to my commute, was on their side as the real downpourbegan the moment the meeting broke up. Cheryl headed towards another TV crewfrom Japan. (I pointed her out to a shy reporter as a good "talkinghead") Even though her message lacked closure, it was one still worthstanding barefoot in the rain. Kind of like, "We are mad as helland.. well...we're mad as hell." Though they’ll obviously take rain and cold, they aren’t going to take IT anymore, you’ll just have to check back later to see what they’re going to do about it.

[1]According to Street Pulse daily reports 10/5/2011 First Day Sales allaccess.com

My Dinner With William* a.k.a. High Life in the Low Desert

2011-08-31T11:29:00.001-07:00

“After hundreds of years of degradation, they gained theability to love each other and loved each other to a fault, I think”, he said,as if neatly organizing 30 years of gay history; 10 years of free love whichbegat the subsequent two decades, the era of AIDS. A beat, then, pure Bill. “Ifyou were alone in that era, it was your own fault”.

Hunting for night life in Desert Hot Springs

We sat over his chicken taco salad and the paper remains ofwhere a carne asada burrito had been and talked philosophy. It was the firsttime he’d been “out to dinner” with anyone in over eight months. He had onlybeen out a month from a six-month hospital stay. The refrigerated fast foodplace was paradise tonight, an oasis from the 100-degree heat on the other sideof the glass.

“Maybe Caligula had it right,” he introduced into the mix,like the salsa trails he dribbled onto his salad. “Maybe the darker side isreally the more base side of human nature. Maybe it will appear that men reallyare more like dolphins than anyone would care to admit.”

“What do you mean?” (Oh, why did I say it?)

He paused for effect. “When dolphins were first captured byman they began to exhibit very interesting habits when penned together in closequarters. They were having lots of dolphin sex, everyone was f**king eachother, boy and the girl, boys and the boys, just a lot of sex. Having been farmed out to aquariumsaround the world, for public exhibition everywhere, don’t you know SOMEONE gota phone call the next morning?

“You’dbetter come and get these fornicating fish!”

The lady at the next table was chewing with her chin on herleft shoulder so she could continue to eavesdrop. Bill’s volume would alwaysincrease when he sensed he was gathering an audience. This time I’m sure it washis hearing.

“The inclination to have constant sex was something that hadto be bred out of them, as I understand it. I don’t think the problem was toget them to do it less. God knows, dolphins are an incredibly smart speciesstill, in some ways smarter than man. Where might they be today if we had justlet them f**k?” The devilish cackle and shaking shoulders, it was the same oldBill. “Just a thought.”

I had planned on settling in next door at Starbucks to takeadvantage of their WIFI. I was sure it had been a while since he had enjoyedthe exquisite pleasure of just hanging out and surfing the web at a coffeehouse. I hadn’t counted on the 9pm closing time the local lifestyle supported.We headed back home because hanging out at Subway late on a Sunday nightdoesn’t quite have the same feel.

Good Dog

2011-08-15T20:51:00.000-07:00

It was for the want of a good man that I met the dog of my life.

Scott came in answer to an ad I placed in the neighborhood rag. I placed it in frustration to having met a few losers. I just wanted a friend. He brought his four-legged roommate with him, who chased my cat into a tree on his first visit. While Scott and I became pals, Cocoa had his sights on me. Within months, we were a threesome. All six feet six inches of Scott, all 80 pounds of Labrador/Dalmatian, and me squeezed into my 400-square foot studio apartment a couple of nights a week.

We left him for ten days when we traveled to Sydney and, when Cocoa jumped over the six-foot fence upon seeing us again, he had no idea of knowing I felt the same way. Nor could he have known he’d be moving into my place that night. I had asked Scott to move in. And bring the dog.

Cocoa was made to suffer the first of many indignities of sharing his place with felines when Rebound[1] jumped into my shopping bag on our walk home one day. It was the first of many ways Cocoa adapted to life with me. He bonded like a brother to Boo, the current house cat.

He taught me the lesson of life in the Now. He showed me how to love outside my species and that the older you get, the more you get your way if you hold out for it. He taught me that humans COULD communicate with animals, if we try.

Once during a run in the hills of Runyon Canyon, he disappeared. When I called for him, he poked his head out from under a thicket, scrambling down the hill on a tiny trail I would never have seen otherwise. He sat directly in front of my path, effectively halting me. He barked and scrambled back up the path, looking back to see if I’d follow. As we climbed and climbed I wondered if there were snakes in these hills. Suddenly he sat, silent, his ears up. I knew to stop and follow suit. Six feet away a mother bird fed her babies, completely aware but totally unafraid. It was as if she knew he meant no harm. We sat for five minutes, looking back and forth at each other while we marveled. For those few timeless moments, Cocoa was not a dog, and certainly not my PET. He was my friend. He circled my stride and barked all the way back down the running trail, absolutely pleased with his communication “breakthrough” that day. He’d gotten through to me, and I had understood him. That became a thing between us.

Uncle Richard, The Treat Master

He showed me how to reach the starving pit bull pups in the park across the street. I had to get down on my stomach and show Mama Pit that I meant no harm. It worked! After dozens of attempts to feed these starving strays, Mom let me get close as I wriggled close like a Marine in maneuvers, flat on my belly, pushing a plate of kibble ahead. The look on his face that day was pure pride.

His favorite meal is Mardi’s turkey chili; his second favorite is anything that comes from Tia Connie’s house but especially BK singles from Burger King. Every time I changed into my painting overalls, he went crazy. I wore them all summer long last year, while we worked on her house. At least I worked; he ate burgers and hot dogs. She spoiled him rotten. He loved her back.

I would never have moved to Long Beach if it weren’t for Cocoa. He sealed the deal with Richard, falling asleep on the kitchen floor while I negotiated the deal. He knew before I did that this was our new home. After six months of losing place after place when the landlord found out about “THE DOG!” Richard was in love at first sight. We let Richard give Cocoa his treats, and soon after Lisa next door had a hidden stash, too.[2] He tried to climb the stairs next door for months after Richard moved to Palm Springs. Lisa gave him his last treats just hours before we put him down.

It was the last honorable act of a dog owner, I believe. He was 13 and his legs had gone, his spark had dimmed and he finally had given up four of the five things on the list of Favorite Things. Lars and I had taken him to the dog park the day before. The smile spread across his face as he spent time with his own is the memory I’ll carry forever. Once again he had gotten through to me. We made it out, one last time. Lars posted the video of us on Facebook. I owe him bigtime for that.

Scott and I were alone with him as the vet gave him the injection; the last thing Cocoa heard was our voices. We did it at home; it was elegant and so peaceful. And it was still hard. We’ll be pulling hair out of the carpet, the car, the furniture, and the drapes for a long time, I’m sure, but his presence was so large, that the house seemed stopped in time somehow.

Everyone says this about his or her dog: Theirs is the greatest dog, ever. Cocoa was, but it was more than just me that got the chance to know that. He had many heart throbs, especially Matt and Sandy, who would always get a tail wag even long after it wasn't easy for Cocoa to do that.

Cocoa was my best dog, great friend and took many secrets with him to his grave. I hope I face as honorable a legacy at life's end. In closing, I’m going to quote author Gene Hill, from “Tears and Laughter”.

“He is loyalty itself. He has taught me the meaning of devotion. With him, I know a secret comfort and a private peace. He has brought me understanding where before I was ignorant. His head on my knee could heal my human hurts.”

[1] Scott named the tiger-striped kitty when it appeared he was the offspring of Percy, my first cat, who was quite the kitty’s man and trolled the neighborhood nightly. He really WAS my rebound cat.

[2] Hidden from ME, not from Cocoa. He knew where they were.

How To Fix Congress

2011-08-09T08:51:00.000-07:00

This is an email I received, forwarded from my pal, Bill Of The Desert from Mark Plummer. I'm publishing it here because its easier than emailing.

  The 26th amendment (granting the right to vote for 18-year-olds) took only 3 months & 8 days to be ratified! Why? Simple! The people demanded it. That was in 1971... before computers, before e-mail, before cellphones, etc.  

Of the 27 amendments to the Constitution, seven(7) took 1 year or less to become the law of the land...all because of public pressure.   I'm asking each addressee to forward this email to a minimum of twenty people on their address list; in turn ask each of those to do likewise.  In three days, most people in The United States of America will have the message.

This is one idea that really should be passed around.  Congressional Reform Act of 2011  

1. No Tenure / No Pension. A Congressman collects a salary while in office and receives no pay when they are out of office.

2. Congress (past, present & future) participates in Social Security. All funds in the Congressional retirement fund move to the Social Security system immediately. All future funds flow into the Social Security system, and Congress participates with the American people. It may not be used for any other purpose.  

3. Congress can purchase their own retirement plan, just as all Americans do.  

4. Congress will no longer vote themselves a pay raise. Congressional pay will rise by the lower of CPI or 3%.

  5. Congress loses their current health care system and participates in the same health care system as the American people.

  6. Congress must equally abide by all laws they impose on the American people.  

7. All contracts with past and present Congressmen are void effective 1/1/12.

 The American people did not make this contract with Congressmen. Congressmen made all these contracts for themselves. Serving in Congress is an honor, not a career. The Founding Fathers envisioned citizen legislators, so ours should serve their term(s), then go home and back to work.

  If each person contacts a minimum of twenty people then it will only take three days for most people (in the U.S. ) to receive the message. Maybe it is time.  THIS IS HOW YOU FIX CONGRESS!

Freeways, Flags and Fear Factor, Season Three

2011-07-16T21:51:00.000-07:00

I live in Southern California. Our big “Carmeggedon Weekend!” in L.A. was either a total success because citizen’s heeded the warning and stayed off the freeways, or “YCar2” ... much ado about nothing. I sailed from Long Beach to USC campus downtown this morning, counting on human nature to provide the former.

Mom bought a new U.S. flag for the 4th and said she was annoyed that it was made in China. I think it’s our fault for passing up the “Made In The USA”, albeit more expensive, flag in favor of the cheaper one. Mom said she couldn’t even FIND a U.S. flag made in the U.S. It seems the retailers have taken our clues and stopped stocking the American-made one. Still, there was something odd-looking about the field of stars. As I left, I suggested she count them.

I’m hearing from people who aren’t politically oriented that America is about the default on our debts. Apparently the message has trickled all the way to (pardon me) the bottom nearly intact. That’s an amazing piece of branding, and another thoroughly frightening scenario from the people we’ve elected to lead us. Sound familiar? Did Saddam have WMD’’s? Did the banks really need all the taxpayer’s money? Did the L.A. freeway traffic coagulate when 7 miles were shut down? I’m not convinced. And I suggest the answer is not to panic, but to get used to the current environment spend within your mean because it’s going to be around for along time.

(By the way) I’m writing this Saturday evening, so if the freeways stop up Sunday afternoon, I’ll take the blame for bringing the jinx.)

News 2 U, Funny 2 Us: Chinese Bay Bridge and Climate Change

2011-06-29T19:56:00.000-07:00

This morning the team (minus Jeff, who is sidelined with a cold) is led by World Famous with an interesting piece of info on who's REALLY making the new Oakland-San Francisco Bay Bridge. Then, darn if we don't get to hollerin' at each other again over climate change.

Click on posting title (above) or the Episode Title (below) to download and/or listen to the 3:42 mp3 podcast.

Episode 16 - San Francisco Gets Chinese Bridge

News 2 U, Funny 2 Us: Bristol's Wine Cooler Dilemma

2011-06-28T10:33:00.000-07:00

Seconds before our recording time, Good Morning America gives me the best kickoff story of the week: Bristol Palin's Wine Cooler Dilemma (our thanks to Robin Roberts of GMA!)

Click on title of this posting (above) or the Episode Title (below) to download and/or hear the 4:32 min podcast (mp3 file)

Episode 15 - Bristol Palin's Wine Cooler Dilemma

News 2 U, Funny 2 Us: Two Michelles And Fat Cakes!

2011-06-27T10:28:00.000-07:00

Monday morning brings news for dueling Michelles. World Famous starts the banter with the story about the First Lady and a restaurant in Botswana. Liz chimes in with the other Michelle in the news, and the reason she wants to run for President and Jeff Kaufman with a reasonable argument that God might be guilty of an election crime!

I've got a story about a Hollywood child bride and WF Tom Murphy's got a new "Murphy's Law"

Click on the title of this posting (above) or on the Episode Title (below) to hear the 9:59 mp3 file.

Episode 0014 - Dueling Michelle Stories

News 2U, Funny 2Us: Dead Seas & Masterful Spin!

2011-06-21T22:55:00.000-07:00

If a daily dose of laughter is indeed the best medicine, then I'm going to live to be 100. I start the day with what is supposed to be 5 minutes with my co-hosts on the daily podcast. We default to a half-hour having been trained by the daily radio show, "The Homecast Show" which we all did for a couple of years.

Liz jumps in knowing that the longer you wait the harder it is to get mic time. Liz is keeping a watch on Mother Earth and has a bad report card for us no the oceans. Jeff has numbers on how many people are actually on this internet thing with you. Tom's got a great example of Major Political Spin!

Click on the title of this posting (above) or the Episode Title (below) to hear the audio. Right click with your mouse to download a copy for listening later.

Episode 0013 - Dead Sea Woes & Major Example of Good Spin

Linked In, Fed Up and Stood Up

2011-06-17T16:23:00.000-07:00

We are in a Friday mood around here. Tom lifts us off with more Politically Incorrect Jokes. Jeff has data on WHO is on line with you and the Linked In phenomenon. Tom has the Origin of "in the limelight" plus news on New Food for The New School Year, and Jeff has the story on Hef's breakup! Listen. We only ask for 14 min. of your time We promise that, at very least, you'll laugh.

Click on the Posting Tittle (above) or the Episode Title (below) to listen. mp3 file. If you right click on the links, you can download a copy to your computer.

Episode 0011 - Linked In, Fed Up and Stood Up!

News2U; Funny2Us: No More Weiner, We Promise!

2011-06-16T12:24:00.000-07:00

I could not be present this morning for the taping, but Jeff takes the helm and delivers the Ultimate Anthony Weiner Wrap (up). The Ever-Faithful World Famous steps up with another kind of church crime. Click on the title of the Posting (above) or the title of the episode (below) to hear. 12min 26 sec. mp3 file.

Episode 0010 - No More Weiner

News 2U, Funny 2Us: Weiner in A News Hole

2011-06-15T19:58:00.000-07:00

The recording computer was barely rolling before the "News To You" Crew was off and running. Hear how quickly we into the subjects of the morning diving into a simple question Liz makes. Jeff takes stock of how much Weiner made it into the news hole this week. No, it's not dirty, (well, kinda not dirty) and you will completely understand when you listen to the podcast,) Tom's got Politically Incorrect Jokes and Liz has "The Amazing Vanishing Money Act".

Episode 0009 - Weiner In A News Hole

News 2U, Funny 2Us: Rabies Girl and Worst Prom Names

2011-06-14T08:31:00.000-07:00

A young girl in Liz's neighborhood survived rabies WITHOUT treatment, Tom has the list of Worst Prom Names Ever. Jeff is on assignment. To Listen click on the title of the posting (above) or on the Episode Title (below) 9 min, mp3 file.

Episode 0008 - Prom Names & Rabies Girl

What Do We Barbecue THIS Weekend?

2011-06-10T10:53:00.000-07:00

Liz slept through today's podcast, which is not a metaphor, she was asleep when we called her. Because I am journalist, I am forced to report the truth. Jeff leads off with a quick take on "Weinergate". We give Tom a chance to raise sympathy for our favorite piñata, Sarah Palin (Note to Liz: Don't sleep when Tom's got Palin news!) and Apple is in the headlines for a second time this week! Tech AND Real Estate sections!

Click on the posting title above or the Episode Title below. The sound file will play in a few moments. You may download a copy for later by right-clicking on the link.

Episode 0007 - WeinerWeekend

(Not So) Healthy Indicators

2011-06-09T10:02:00.000-07:00

Once a week for the last two months, that’s how often someone is dying on Southern California highways...from gunfire! You’ve heard about the computer repair guy who rigged some of his female customer’s computers with spy ware that allowed him to watch them later when they were alone. A member of Congress tweeted a nude snapshot of his privates to several women, while his newlywed wife expects their first child. Apparently I’m in the wrong world.

The June Gloom, forgetting its station in the weather pattern, lingered into mid-afternoon, increasing the number of reported naps in the area. I have no idea what’s going on, everybody knows June gloom happens in April and May. That’s our idea of the effect of climate change in Southern California[1]

Speaking of indicators of the changing times, I visited my old pal “Bill Of The Desert” as he’s known online, in what can only be described as a “Nurse Factory” in Riverside. On top of what last month was a strawberry farm sits this sprawling one-story “hospital” staffed with so many nurses that, had they broken into choreography and I was being punked, it might have better explained the need for them all.

While I visited my friend, a total of 1 hour and 10 minutes, his “vital signs” were taken FIVE TIMES! And he’s there for dialysis and to treat the merciless infection he got at the LAST hospital. He’s not likely to crash and die anytime soon. The interruptions were so frequent we decided to visit in the hallway so we could have more privacy.

“This is a teaching hospital.” I kind of asked/stated to the nurse.

“Oh yes” she replied.

“There’s good money in it, I guess?”

“Says you. None of it’s coming MY way!”

And from what I could determine from the stories I heard from his hospital roommate—“They wake us up every 15 minutes all night long!” to the vigilance they must maintain lest their medications be administered in error (He’s caught them FOUR times!) speaks that the money isn’t going the way of the patients either. In full disclosure, an administrator did mention a few times that she had purchased a fleece blanket to ward off the perpetual freeze. And they weren’t kidding. I was completely dressed, it was 65 degrees in the place and the vent was pumping cold air. I have a suggestion how she might save some money.

[1] Lord, may I never regret writing that sentence.

No Talking Today.

2011-06-08T11:42:00.000-07:00

Liz Fulton, W.F. Tom Murphy, Jeff Kaufman

I’ve doubled the hits to my blog page by adding the short audio pieces everyday. To all my new Reader/Listeners, thanks for pointing your browsers at me. Regular readers are starting to question if I’ve given up blogging my own stuff and the answer is NO! But lately anything I’ve wanted to write has been trumped by what we’ve had to say on the features.

A new blog page is being prepared for the podcast features, so that I can get back to writing and my partners can share in the significance of their growing audience. We can use all the help we can get. Please tell your friends.

If you have not heard us, please sample some of the links in the previous posts. (Cick on the title of the postings, they will connect you to the audio) I've been with this crew almost daily for the last three years. We started at "The Homecast Show" on the internet, then morphed into "the Round Table" for KBeach.org. We've been pals for decades. Liz and Jeff worked in the same newsroom back at KIIS-FM in 1980, when I was there as Music Director, along with the legendary David Schwartz[2]. Tom was on KIIS-AM, as well as a million other stations before and after. I think our mix of “both sides of the aisle” commentary is a unique voice in the new media mix. We hope you do, too. If you do, bookmark the page and at least check in once a day. You’ll be helping our ‘numbers’. We all appreciate it.

We will be back soon. We are currently on a hunt for radio stations to carry the program. Small stations to Large Markets, we are not exclusive. If you know anyone at any sized website, radio or TV station[1], please feel free to point them here.

[1] We clean up well. You will get a chance to see us on video very soon.

[2] Credit where credit is due.

News To You, Funny To Us: Weiner Or Not?

2011-06-07T12:15:00.000-07:00

There are few days like today, when radio people are glad to be alive! We didn't ask for it, we didn't wish it on him, but Jeff called it on Monday: Anthony Weiner would live to regret ever dodging the questions about his infamous underwear Tweet. I can't help thinking it's not only because, as he says, there is more "out there", but because of the nature of what he knows is out there.

I could hardly wait until tape time. Skype, hoping to deter us, was having trouble allowing us to call each other, but Jeff persisted until we were all online. I know better than to wait, so I hit the record button and began with a silly question: "Should we Weiner today?" Silly me.

You could say that the very fiber of our show can be summarized by Liz's response to that question.

To listen: Click on the title of this posting above, or on the Episode Title which follows below.

Episode 0006 - Weiner Won't Let It Go

News To You, Funny To Us: Palin's Boston Ride.

2011-06-06T12:16:00.000-07:00

While we were signing off on Friday, this was making "the wires" on the interweb thing. Jeff was already on top of it, but we decided to follow the story and watch it grow. And grow it did. A little back and forth on the MOST WATCHED VIDEO ON YOU TUBE this weekend!
Click on the Title of this post or on the Episode Title which follows below. 7:59 mp3 file.
Episode 0005 - Palin's Boston Ride!

New Report: The War On Drugs Has Failed!

2011-06-04T21:11:00.000-07:00

Liz Fulton, The World Famous Tom Murphy and Jeff Kaufman.

In case you haven't heard, the War On Drugs has failed. Listen to the podcast by clicking on the title of this post OR on the Episode Title which follows below:

Episode 0004 - The War On Drugs Is Over: 2min 46sec, mp3 file

Freedom of Dance?

2011-06-03T11:44:00.000-07:00

Which is the bigger crime: Dancing or Detaining? The "News2U_Funny2Us" gang: Danny Lemos, Jeff Kaufman, Liz Fulton, World Famous Tom Murphy with today's offering. Try as we might, we just can't get the day started without putting our two cents in.

Click on the Title of this post or on the episode title below:

Episode 0003 - Dancing or Detaining? 11min 47sec. mp3

When Weiners Tweet

2011-06-02T23:11:00.000-07:00

The News2U-Funny2Us Crew sounds off on Tweets and Weiners. Click on the post title or the Episode to hear the audio. 7 min 7 sec. mp3 file.

Episode0002-WeinerTweet

It May Be News To You, But It's Funny To Us

2011-06-02T11:30:00.000-07:00

Today it's all about Ecoli! 3:45 - Just Click On The Show Title : It May Be News 0001_Ecoli - 3 min 45 sec.

One Thousand Words

2011-05-28T16:01:00.000-07:00

This is the cactus outside my back door. Since the dog had knocked it over three times, I thought it was time to put it into the ground elsewhere. The cactus had other plans. This bloomed on Thursday.

American Infidels!

2011-05-17T09:41:00.000-07:00

What a week...and its only Tuesday!

While we slept, the Terminator has become The Impregnator. Schwarzenegger has fathered a child in secrecy, the mother working in the household while raising the child. One can imagine that their kids might know their half-sibling. It’s all so creepy, but how did we expect the Arnold story to play out? Let’s take a career snapshot: Celebrity bodybuilder to movie star to political shooting star to Governor to adulterer. Is anybody surprised? As I typed that last sentence Maria Shriver released a statement expressing her concern for the privacy of her children. The word “our” was nowhere in sight.

Timing is everything. CNN asked this “Question to Voters: Should infidelity matter?” Given today’s news and Newt Gingrich’s announcement, who knew it wasn’t a prerequisite? We’re partially to blame for the sex scandals on TV. When was the last time you tuned in because some politician was faithful to his wife?

As a nation, we just hit our debt ceiling. As a household, that’s old news. Here’s an idea from our house: Spend only what you have. Watching the government live on what it makes would make one heck of a reality show, don’t you think?

Now the Chairman of the IMF goes and gets arrested for attacking a hotel maid in New York City. The news has completely shocked the international community, which knows if you’re going to attack a hotel maid, you’d better NOT do it in New York; They’re union and you know what THAT means.

Pakistan is returning to the U.S. the damaged helicopter from the raid on Bin Laden’s. In exchange, they’ve requested an iPhone that actually completes a call.

Walter Cronkite used to end his broadcasts, “And that’s the way it is...” Today I would amend that: “...you might as well get used to it.”

As American As ... Well?

2011-05-15T09:16:00.000-07:00

It’s raining and it’s Sunday and on television David Gregory Is verbally punching Newt Gingrich regarding his “temperament”. “Ill-informed or ignorant?” Gingrich ducks the question saying he wants to be President for all of us. This guy walked away from his wife when she had cancer but has decided that he needs to run for President in the name of his “duty as a citizen”. WTF? Regarding his character, Gingrich just played the “God” card saying that if God has forgiven him, why can’t we? I wouldn’t trust him to change the oil in my car. Click Here To Watch a Video Clip of Newt on "Meet The Press"

Have you acquired the Great Chest Cold of Spring 2011 yet? Everyone had it and it circled around me life, at school, work and the gym, for weeks, finally felling me Friday. I like to think of myself as a healthy, fit guy, but it took me down like a bowling pin. Putting on sweats hurt. Walking the dog was torture, for us both. I just stayed under the covers, eating and sleeping.

I love being sick because I can eat junk. I cook all my own food 98 percent of the time, so when I’m sick fast food mega-calories perform some sort of reverse osmosis, helping my body get better faster. Plus, my mind does not work well enough on Nyquil for safe cooking. Chinese food, McDonald’s and a Dominoes double-topped $4.99 take out special—double cheese and sausage[1]—was the prescribed diet from my health care specialist (me!) I know I’m feeling better because I’m daydreaming about the chicken soup and no-sugar apple pie I want to make.

Gas prices are up; grocery prices are up, what’s the solution? Eat less, drive less. The quietest revolution of our lifetime might feature the greatest trait of the American people— resilience. In my neighborhood, people would rather wait in line than pay 5 cents more up the street. I think it’s in our DNA. You might make the argument that it’s only 5 cents, stop being a cheapskate and pay. But, in your heart of hearts, in those moments when nobody is watching, just because you can afford it,å doesn’t mean you don’t hate it, too. It’s an indicator of what may be the best second act of “the current economic crisis”: The Rebound of Real American Pride. Real people, who grow their own food, people who make things they’re proud of. Compassionate people, who get their mandates from their God and their heart, forget all the media messages of what’s lacking in life. Can we as the American people get by with less? Hell yes!

Life is about being happy it’s raining because I don’t have to water the squash[2] Happiness is a sleeping dog and a napping cat and as American as—hey! —an apple pie in the oven. Type at you later!

[1] Thanks Scott!

[2] Thanks Mom!

OBL is DOA

2011-05-02T23:59:00.000-07:00

Wow. I haven’t been through such an emotional Sunday night since the Beatles played on “The Ed Sullivan Show” (How’s THAT for dating myself?) Osama is dead and Donald Trump For President became irrelevant in the same instant. Even Trump has to be smart enough to know to hang onto his money.

I remember that Tuesday morning almost 10 years ago. I was standing in my kitchen when I heard the NBC sounder “This is a special report from NBC News” as they cut away from the Today show to the news desk ...on the Today Show.

Fox News was running a banner strip at the bottom of the screen when all the rest of the world was watching network news on EVERY OTHER CHANNEL. What was THAT about? My brother Aaron Facebooked. (Is that really a new verb, now?) He posted, “Sore Losers”.

Debbie Webster, wife of my brother’s old San Jose Repertory Company partner,
Jim Reber, got onto Facebook and posted, “They won’t know it’s Osama Bin Laden until we see his birth certificate...the LONG form!” Best Facebook Post of The Day. (NOW Facebook a noun!) In an instant I was both part of the cheering digital throng and remembering why I liked Deb so much!

I dove into the local news sites for the Live Web Cams. Long Beach has several, still on NBC, ABC and KTLA’s site I was unable to find any gathering crowd or a even a small grouping that could be Tweeted into a hysterical mob. I called over to the campus security at Cal State Long Beach. The officer who answered spoke slowly, “Let me get this straight, you’re calling to ask IF there’s a demonstration tonight? Is this a joke?” Thank goodness I was able to make her laugh because her phone had already captured my number.

Instead, we took to the either, my radio pals Jeff Kaufman, Liz Fulton and World Famous Tom Murphy on Kbeach.. You can hear an hour of the show as a podcast at http://Kbeach.org We are right on the home page in the Podcast box.
Give it a listen, you’ll get a few laughs...even if the topic is serious, we almost never are.

It's May Day, Where's My Revolution?

2011-05-01T09:48:00.000-07:00

I’m sure that you hear it as much as I do. “We need to be the Country we once were!” and “The American people are a great people! You cannot keep us down!” I’m wondering why we allow ourselves to be dominated by a corporate structure that rakes in obscene profits while it fleeces then discards a large segment of the people they serve.

Is it our fault? We’d march in the streets over better cell service before we’d protest over what Washington, Business AND Banks are doing to the American people. Why can’t we organize against insane profits while people in the U.S. starve and bruised American consumers who are asked to bleed this summer for someone’s new boat slip in the Hampton’s. When are we gonna be “mad as hell, and... not going to take it anymore” ?

On a telephone call, that quaint little practice, I’m fearless. I wanted to talk to a Customer Relations person at my Bank who might answer some questions for my radio show. An inquiry from a media person to a bank, apparently this was a novel request. Nobody had the answer. When I asked where I might call to get an answer, a person who might say, ‘I am the Decider’ at my huge corporate mega-bank, nobody at the entire branch could provide me with a number other than the 800-number. Since I had already been THAT route, I told them they’d have to keep digging.

Smelling a story for the blog, I tossed fuel onto the fire, “I’m doing a story for the campus radio station about all the new banking fees. It’s part of a student project.” A flurry of phone calls ensued. They finally gave me a number which I called and got a customer service complaint voice mail. I am still waiting for an answer to my message, three weeks later.

Maybe they’re right; maybe America ISN’T what it used to be. I know it isn’t where doing business is concerned. But what do we do about it? The answer is in our actions. Our voices ARE being heard, loud and clear and in the streets! Every day when we fill up our gas tanks and head out to the mall, we register our vote with the system as it is. The only thing we have to withhold is our most powerful tool: Our participation. How proud of America are you? How far are you willing to go for change?

[1] For my younger readers who may have never heard of “Network”, Netflix it.

Textiquette

2011-04-28T18:45:00.000-07:00

Who is in charge of texting? I need to speak to them. Or perhaps they will refer me to the Digital Device Etiquette Department, where I might politely register my discomfort with annoying extraneous texting. You know the kind I mean. The annoying hum or ping of a cell device with a text message waiting when you are right in the middle of something from which you’d rather not be interrupted. The damn thing digitally pokes you.
“Do you think I asked for too little on that job interview?”

“We should get together sometime”

“Red Velvet Cupcake at Yogurtland...yum!”

Who needs this kind of torture?

There are times I would love to get a text message. There are only a few that I would be happy to receive, but they are never gonna happen.

1. If the dog is not going to talk, it would be cool if he could text. “I need to go” followed by another quick “NOW!” would definitely be the biggest technical advancement of our age, as far as I’m concerned.

2. “You just won the Lottery. Meet us at Yogurtland for Red Velvet Cupcake and your check.” Now that is a text I wouldn’t mind getting in the middle of a nap.

I remember when getting a page was annoying. I remember when paging someone was reserved for the most urgent reasons. You were a doctor, a fireman, a crack dealer. It was considered the ultimate “drop everything” summons. Slowly the culture of texting crept up on us, though. What started as a convenience quickly turned into a nuisance. We need a Director of Digital Devices, a “Miss Manners” of the internet and such. We need someone we can turn to for the establishment of a code of ethical conduct with regard to text messaging.

I’d like to suggest the following rules for the first draft:

—Text me if we are on the way to meet each other. Don’t ask me for directions. That’s what your phone is for.

—Do not text me to find out what I’m up to. The answer will NEVER be that I was sitting around waiting for your text.

—If we have never met, and we do not know each other, do not text me like we do. Introduce yourself in an email, instead.

—The right response to “Who is this?” is not “How soon they forget.” That is a case where it is allowable to respond with silence.

—When I respond to your text, “Please do not text me, call me instead.” DO NOT text me back “K”.

Britney Makes Troops Crazy!

2011-04-25T16:02:00.000-07:00

Happy Healthcare To You, Happy Healthcare To You!

2011-04-24T10:30:00.001-07:00

Care for the sick, feed the hungry and love each other like you love yourselves. For all the “Jesus” that’s being thrown around, with all the righteous indignation about what is “The Right Thing, The Moral Thing To Do”, how many people in your sphere are practicing what they’re being preached? Working on the first of those directives, I’m all about supporting a health system in which everyone is cared for, regardless of what they have or don’t have.

Geoff White, David Benoit

The Physicians for A National Health Program (PNHP) are a group of doctors who buck the common perception that doctors are in love with insurance companies, that they make more money the way the system stands. What accountants can’t see is the reality for most of the health care professionals I come into contact with, they’re doing it for reasons you cannot quantify with dollars and cents. My ex, Dr. Bill Skeen is their Executive Director, we spent time in the trenches for AIDS/HIV Awareness, Prevention and Treatment, he in public policy and I in fund-raising and education. He has spent his life in good causes and is onto The Next Big Thing: Healthcare for All.

Dr. Geoff White is a psychologist and a member of PnHP’s Board of Directors who opened his annual birthday party so that we could fundraise. The purpose to the event was to bring continued support to the Japanese Relief Fund AND to bring attention to the huge fight that California has ahead, securing a single payer bill through the State Legislature (again!) and this time getting it funded. (California has had a single payer bill twice but each time the Gubernator had vetoed it.)

Ry Cuming Sings "Always Remember Me"

Ian Masters, Hosts of "Background
Briefing"on KPFK-FM/Los Angeles

The party was terrific, with a cast of some familiar characters and some delightful new ones. Australian musician Ry Cuming played and sang.. He was certainly a Big Name in a Little Room, and is already crowding the airwaves here. Radio Host Ian Masters of KPFK in Los Angeles gave an insightful speech and held a short Q&A on the current state of our country. He called upon the crowd for a new society; a new “Teddy Roosevelt” that could transcend the way things are currently done. His remarks about how America is allowing Donald Trump to pitch stupidity at us capped his remarks.

I was invited to make the fundraising pitch for Japanese Relief and the PnHP group while announcing plans for an upcoming benefit concert to be hosted by jazz musician David Benoit. David trumped my ace by announcing some very special news of his own, a new project with K-JAZZ 88.1 FM in L.A. (the station I last worked.) News of the project will be announced by K-JAZZ on Monday. He then introduced his wife Kai, who was in Japan vacationing during the earthquake and tsunami. Kai is Japanese and her halting English and gentle voice riveted the crowd. Her reminder that it’s only been a month and the disaster has all but disappeared from our headlines. No one could follow that.

Zach Chitwood

It was a terrific evening, our old “Bodcast” podcast pal Zach Chitwood came through again, stocking and managing the beverage service for the party of 60 plus, making 1 man seem like three. If you need staff for your party, Zach is the man to call. You can reach him at zach@zacharychitwood.com. You will not find better party staff in Southern California. Commercial over.

Mary and Geoff’s “Italian Chili” was a hearty meal and Whole Foods contributed the trimmings, with special help from Kelly Layne, Whole Foods Marketing Supervisor. Happy Birthday to Geoff, whose generosity begat only more generosity as I noticed the pile of gifts that came along with the contributions by check. You should have such a good Saturday evening.

If you would like more information about California’s Single Payer Healthcare Program check out http://pnhpcalifornia.org/

Oh, THERE'S The Beef

2011-04-23T09:37:00.000-07:00

The woman that was suing Taco Bell two months ago has dropped her lawsuit outright. I went to the Internet for word and passed up Taco Bell’s Google-ad related response for the Christian Science Monitor.

"Taco Bell, a unit of Yum Brands Inc, said no money had changed hands and that it was not changing its products, ingredients or advertising.”

In the world in which I was brought up, you weren’t supposed to bribe your way out of problems. If you read between the lines, Yum Brands, Inc. ushers it onto a worldwide stage as a rejected alternative. One wonders.

Further research included the actual law firm Alabama-based Beasley Allen, which commented that although Taco Bell contends no changes were made to anything, “it spotted some modifications, which led them to dissolve the case.”*[1]

A recent study suggests that the more you shop, the longer you will live. They say it has a lot to do with staying active and that the credit card companies won’t let you die until you pay them off. Men tended to do better than women, living longer if THEY did the shopping. I think it’s because they spent more time away from a wife with cabin fever. The main conclusion of the study was that MEN shopped more than women the world over. MY main conclusion: These researchers have never been in a mall on Black Friday.

Hallmark had no cards honoring Earth Day. Was this their way of observing it? Somebody screwed up in the marketing and promotions department over there, if you ask me. Don’t make cards that the company will dispose of the day after, which would really be a great public relations move for a company that does that all year, and then don’t publicize it. To the Directors at Hallmark: I’m available.

[1] Zacks.com, Zacks investment research.

Burning Passion for A Palm Sunday

2011-04-17T20:51:00.000-07:00

Saturday morning I woke up late. It was 7:30 and my body was rejecting sleep. I got up and started coffee brewing and clicked on the computer. KTLA.com was featuring a video of my family’s church, which had burnt to the ground during the night.

I called my mother and she was understandably upset, she spends a lot of her time there, assisting as an Altar Server (I like Altar Girl) and Eucharistic Minister. Both she and my father were lifelong members of only two churches, St. Hilary Catholic Church in Pico Rivera, where most of us grew up and St. John Vianney Catholic Church in Hacienda Heights, where they had worshipped since 1973.

The image of the burned out hull of a church was too much for me. T here was so many memories associated with SJV. Years of weddings, baptisms, Easter and Christmas mass with Mom and Dad, confirmations, and funerals, and all those memories felt under assault somehow.

Father Ricky, a young athletic priest, dashed in to the burning building, Mom said, and managed to save the vestments. They cost more than some of the homes in the parish and a double wall between the main church and the sacristy, where the vestments were stored, provided precious extra time. Father Ricky was “rescued” from the building, to hear the press tell it. Everybody knows he had to be stopped; his own danger was not his first consideration that early Saturday morning.

All that was left of the main altar

Father Tim, the pastor, was three weeks in to a surgical leave to have his knee reconstructed after an injury. “Don’t let the church burn down,” he had kidded his cohorts at a mass to mark the start of his sabbatical. Now, sitting at the front of the church in his wheelchair with his bandaged leg outstretched stiffly, I wondered if he remembered. How could he feel at this moment? Like the captain who had lost his ship, I imagine. I wondered if the pain in his heart dwarfed the pain from knee, both etching their mark into his face as he listened to the words of the Passion of Our Lord—EVERY LONG BIT OF IT.

“Oh God, why have you forsaken me?” spoke Jesus from the scriptures of the Palm Sunday service.

The cover panels from the Tabernacle, warped in the heat

Driving up this morning, it was no longer a picture on a website. My niece Whitney and I did a revolution around the yellow taped areas, snapping pics. Several dozen other parishioners had the same mind. Not one piece of glass remained. A massive pillar from the roof lie diagonally across the blown out front doors, making the yellow tape superfluous in blocking any entry. There was twisted scaffolding melted away from the building, like there were on a model, made of plastic straws. Contractors had been in the midst of renovating the building.
“It didn’t touch the new bathrooms!” Mom said, with Dad’s characteristic look on the bright side, though she was visibly shaken. Someone in the family had been murdered, that’s how it felt.

It was hard to believe they could be any sadder as a community when Father Tim announced at Palm Sunday mass that preliminary evidence indicated arson. The congregation moaned and you could feel the sadness deepen. “Who could hate us this much?” Mom said, and she mimicked the personal assault all her friends and church family felt. Looking at the burned out frame of that previously safe space, it boggles the mind that we were looking at a crime scene that was our church.

The Community of St. John Vianney surrounds Father Ricky.

But the last picture I snapped is of the real passion on this very unusual Palm Sunday. The passion of a community rooted in a common cause much bigger than themselves, with a huge cornerstone set in love.
“The building is gone, but the church is still here”, said Father Tim. “And we’re still here. We started with land, and we built a church. Now we’re back to land, we’ll build another church.” Then he did an amazing thing: He took a vote. The Mormon Church next door and the high school across the street both offered temporary facilities, but he knew his family felt otherwise.

“I get the feeling from you all that we should be right here,” he said, indicating the crammed parish hall. There were people three deep along the walls. The applause that followed drowned out any doubt that this family would resurrect their church building again.

“At least we’ll get a new baptismal font,” Mom whispered, already looking on the bright side.

Asleep On The Job

2011-03-25T19:53:00.000-07:00

The air traffic controller suspended for falling asleep on the job at a Washington D.C. airport has apologized for his actions. “There is no excuse, “said the air traffic controller, “I was alone on the overnight shift and I fell asleep”. Airport officials say he will be reassigned to a position that will not hinder his sleeping: Airport security.

Sources next to the family of Elizabeth Taylor announced that a scholarship and endowment program will be set up in her honor for those who would like to follow in her footsteps... at the Little Wedding Chapel in Las Vegas. (rimshot!)

Too soon? Well, I know she would have loved that. Maybe not so much now that she’s dead, but when she was alive, and if it was about someone else, she would have loved it.

Weinerschnitzel celebrates 50 year of hot dogs this weekend. They are proud of the fact they’ve served thousands of weiners since 1961, not unlike Courtney Love.[1]

In high school, my best friend was Tom, whose dad was a Vice President of the company. Their logo then contained the infamous and grammatically incorrect prefix “Der”, which appears to have since disappeared from their name. I wonder if it was the German community, finally getting smart and hiring a lobbyist.

“Do you know how many letters I get every day? ‘It’s DAS Weinerschnitzel, not DER Weisnerschnitzel’!” Tom’s dad would shout, mocking his annoyance. I was 18 and pretty crazy[2], but I never saw the logic in why they just didn’t change it.

I just watched “The Tillman Story” on DVD. It’s a documentary of the Tillman’s family’s efforts to get to the bottom of the death their son, Pat Tillman, Jr., by friendly fire in Afghanistan in 2004. My review: It’s a chilling “Must Watch”. Anyone who thinks the Military is telling us what’s REALLY going on in Iraq, Afghanistan, Libya, and Egypt, should watch this video first.

[1] An attemped joke, please don’t sue me.

[2] In sharp contrast to today.

Project REinCARnate

2011-03-15T13:28:00.000-07:00

(l-r) Louis Palmer - "Zero Race" Sponsor, Naiche Lujan - Project REinCARnate,
Paul Pierson - Gas To Electric Conversions

My pal, Naiche sent me this email this morning...

“I entered The Green Awards online contest for $25,000 to fund the creation of a pro-EV community website with a focus on enabling more people to access EV technology easily. It's a pseudo Wikipedia, EV social network, and virtual vehicle designer.

All of this is really about creating a stronger nationwide, grassroots movement for EVs.

I hope I can get your support by voting online and sending this on to any other fellow EV supporters or institutions that might also help promote this fundraising campaign. Let's kick some internal combustion butt!”

You can vote for Naiche’s project at
http://www.THEGreenAwards.com/Default.aspx?v=177

You can vote once per day for the next two weeks, through 3/27.

Chococate Cake And A Sweet News Cycle

2011-03-13T11:26:00.000-07:00

It would only strike you as weird that six members of my family were included in my ex-boyfriend’s birthday party if you didn’t know my family or me. I only mention it to set the scene for a surreal party scene as everyone stood eating the most incredible birthday cake from Sweet Lady Jane’s and gobbling up the tsunami footage on live TV. This would also not be a big deal if you didn’t know that I am 13 days into "No TV For A Month" project when the earthquake and tsunami happened.

“Crescent City marina was flooded and at least 45 boats were capsized,” reported Brother In Law Lars, “They were slammed by the tsunami. It was bad news. I was all right without reruns of "Two And A Half Men", but without my live TV news fix I was a goner when I saw the images from the twisted remains of seaside railroad tracks in Japan. Thank God for all my friends who have unwittingly acted as a personal news bureau, sending me links to clips on line, but watching the endless clips played over and over again on live TV. While devouring loads of chocolate, sugar and fat was better than the two margaritas I had had earlier.

Spinning on the sugar high, I went home (downstairs, that’s another whole story) and checked my email. My friend and co-host, Liz had sent me a link from her local radio station and the tsunami slamming into her local marina at...wait for it, wait for it... CRESCENT CITY! She wrote, “you'll find pictures of the tsunami coming right up my Mad river, (about a mile north) and onto the beach which is about 2 miles west of my home... i did not go down there...i was checking my emergency kits!”

Ahhhhhhhhhh. Her email included news nirvana. Raw footage.

Hopefully it’s still up there on their home page. Click http://khum.com/

The Cashew Question

2011-03-08T16:15:00.000-08:00

It happened again, today. If it were not for the fact that I wrote about it yesterday, it would be funny. Instead, it’s a little creepy.

Another stranger, this time a woman, came up to me in the Fresh & Easy. As she got closer she did not stop, but she leaned into me as she rounded the corner in a sweep.

“HAVE YOU TASTED THE CASHEWS?! They put ONIONS in their cashews!”

I have a sign on me, I thought. Filmed using a fish-eye lens, it would have been pure Quentin Tarantino. I was curious enough for a taste and yes, it was a little odd. They do indeed put onion in the cashew cups, but hey, they’re free. I can hear the little lady with the Russian accent from yesterday’s blog: “You get what you pay for”.

We had the Publisher of GreaterLongBeach.com, Dave Wielenga on the show this morning. Dave is a veteran newsprint journalist with a passion for the printed word, AND the written word apparently. He is another writer who puts actual pen to paper. Still, you won’t see many radio vets willing to hurl themselves as happily into the new medium that the internet has become for independent journalists. Check out and support his website. I know and use all the truly good Long Beach websites in preparation for the show. All those names came out in our conversation together and they all seem to be within one degree of separation from Dave Wielenga. We hope he will be a regular on “Mornings On The Beach”.

If you are not listening to us in the mornings, check us out. I haven’t done a “hard launch” of the show because I wanted us all to work all the bugs out. We started on January 3^rd, and it’s March 8^th, I think it’s debugged as it is going to get. You can check us out live 8-10a (PST) Mon-Thur, 9a-10a Friday by going to Kbeach.org. There is a listen live button. Or you can listen to the rebroadcast of the previous day’s show 5-7am each weekday morning. (That’s 8-10a for my New York friends.) There is also a Facebook page for the show. Type “Mornings On The Beach” into the search box on any Facebook page, you will find us.

Got A Good Talking To

2011-03-07T14:26:00.000-08:00

The best part about not watching television as a pastime is the conversations you get to have with real, live people. Like the old man I met at the front door of the post office on Saturday. It was 10:30 in the morning and the post office was closed. I don’t know why he chose me, but I guess he had to speak TO SOMEBODY!

“What kind of business that’s already in trouble shuts down on the weekends when the majority of their customers might be more available?” He had a point. They aren’t exactly in the Fortune 500, but the USPS is a company like any other and very frankly put—they suck. They deserve to become obsolete. The people who work there are smug, for the most part, and it’s because they have to deal with “irates” who have waited in line too long.

“Why don’t they bring back Leona Helmsley from the dead and let her run roughshod on the personnel and management.” I thought that up the last time I was in line there, and it really helped pass the time. Now, I threw it into the mix and it served as a perfect firebreak. The man became confused. I was undaunted. Fighting fire with fire...

“I’ll bet you that not only would the Post Office be open weekends, but they’d be open nights and holidays with Night-Of-The-Living-Leona in charge.” By this time the old guy was backing away from me.

The next conversation was even sillier. It was with a blue-collar guy at the gas station. He was pumping gas trying to contain his comments, but his ire got the best of him.

“What if McDonald’s was like gas station,” he postured, “And the price changed every day?" It’s gone up 34 cents, rising an average of 2 cents a day for the last two weeks. He had no idea who he was dealing with.

“What if McDonald’s changed the price of their burgers to reflect speculation that Lent will have an effect of Quarter Pounders being sold on Fridays?” I ranted.

“YEAH, yeah, yeah!” was all he could say. I think he wanted to high-five me, but we were too far from each other.

“Do you think McDonald’s would get away with it? Would we take in on the chin? Do we want our Quarter Pounders With Cheese And Fries in the same way we’ve got to have our gas fix? God forbid we couldn’t make it to the mall because we couldn’t afford the gas.” I was preaching!

Like begets like. That’s another nugget from my conversations with strangers. “You get what you put out there” seems like mindless, positive-thinking slogan, except when it comes as the answer to my question: “What’s wrong with the world these days”. It was an elderly woman in line behind me. The cashier was talking about the shooting of the Arizona Congresswoman and how it could have been “this store, right here, at anytime”. (Even though it was only noon, I think I smelled cigarettes and beer on her breath.)
“What’s wrong with the world these days?” I asked, half checking over her shoulder should the revolution begin in her Albertson’s at any second, I wanted to be able to duck, and half wanting just to get out of there.

“Like begets like,” said the Russian lady behind me. “We forget. We forget everything.” If spitting were allowed, she would have spit.

“Then there’s no hope,” said the checkout gal.

“I did not say this. Hope is there. But it will not save you from bullets.” I wanted to high-five her.

Turn Off This Blog Page (for a second, anyway)

2011-02-27T10:08:00.000-08:00

It’s easy to get all “wee-wee’d up” about the current state of everything these days. Just step out of bed. It seems as if some sort of message device is pushing and shoving each other to get our attention. Old habits have gone by the wayside, like the old news radio alarm making the first five minutes of every morning a groggy awakening to good old loyal KFWB. I’ve ditched it for an extra five minutes of sanity and safety under the covers, though I’m not sure the quacking duck alarm was a good replacement.

It’s hard for a member of “the media” to a) quote Ms. Palin a second time on this blog, and b) be part of “the liberal media agenda” advocating the rejection of all the electronic stimulus. How can I possibly start the day if I don't know the five things lurking in my refrigerator that might kill me? If the TV doesn’t have you quaking in fear, the prices at the grocery store soon will.

They say the signs are in the small things, though they don’t say who “They” are. (one of the small things that got lost, I guess) In one week, Yellow crookneck squash, grown NON-organically, has jumped to organic prices. Mother Nature was blamed. Now I remember the butter commercials, I’m not for messing with Mother Nature. You think vegetable prices are bad, wait until you see Her messing with the tobacco and weed crop. There will be riots in the streets.

The television has been off all morning, I have not even checked email nor looked at the phone. I’m writing this long hand while sitting in the kitchen window at the desk I never use because I can’t see the TV from here. Now I know why the cat loves this window. You can see the entire corner from here. It’s like TV, without the commercials.

It’s amazing what a quiet morning will do for regenerating the mind and spirit. And for recalling what is really important in life. Like, where DID I leave that remote and where the heck is my phone?

Actions Speak Loudest

2011-02-17T18:52:00.000-08:00

Dear Speaker Boehner,

Please lead us into battle with those budget cuts you rail for by cutting your own salary, and those of members of Congress, first. Know the pain your constituents are all too familiar with. As you said today in response to the shouts that people will lose their jobs, “C’mon!” This goes beyond party lines, you are the man in charge of our elected body of representatives.

Come on, Congress, Come on, Mr. Boehner! Lead the people by example.

Sincerely,

The families of the 14 million unemployed workers of America.

Mornings Are A Real Beach

2011-02-15T14:44:00.000-08:00

“Follow your heart, and the money will follow” is the age-old maxim, and I hope they are right. My world is rockin’, I couldn’t be more in love with what I’m doing—mentoring the stars of the next ten years. I’m finding more raw and real talent at the University level than I have in the “real world” during the last ten years. Some of it I’m including into my morning show, not because they are so talented and great, but because I always believe you should surround yourself with people who could someday employ you.

We’re doing things commercial radio doesn’t have the guts to risk, and some of it is paying off by delivering an audience. Management told us in our monthly meeting that we’ve quadrupled the listening audience of the station. “So, now there are four people listening?” I asked, unable as ever to resist a straight man’s lead line.

I’m mostly proud of my cohorts. Their passion for wanting to be in this business, making video and audio art, is infectious. I had to drop my inclination to wax apathetic. The usual “They’ll learn” was quickly swept up in a wave of “Let’s try it!” And apparently somebody likes it, at least four times more in January as more than those who did in December, and February is bound to be off the charts. We’ve been having a terrific time on the show.

If you’re already listening—thanks! If you haven’t found us yet, we’re 8-10am Pacific Time Monday – Thursday, 9-10 on Fridays. We are on the Internet; you can reach us via www.kbeach.org. OR you can download the free iPhone or Android app and we’ll be right in the palm of your hand. (Apparently most of our audience listens via their smart phone.)

On “Mornings On The Beach” we do news and features, the kind of stuff that’s been coming out of my pen since 1980. I also believe that people can handle more than one kind of music. We have no specified music format to stick to. The fact that radio is losing people to their iPods at an rate that exceeds the speed of sound means that a majority are not having their musical needs met by radio. Radio owes listeners more. And it is our aim to serve it up daily.

I know you will hear it in our voices. You’ll also hear a real person, not a focus group, pick a playlist for you, every morning, hot and fresh.

Going The Distance For Donuts

2011-02-06T11:23:00.000-08:00

There was a Donut Race Challenge yesterday in Raleigh, North Carolina where all the participants broke a sweat, ran 4 miles in under an hour, downing a full dozen donuts midway. It’s a 7-year old tradition that starts on the campus of North Carolina State, at the Bell tower, to be precise. Each runner runs 2 miles to the nearest Krispy Kreme store, downs a full dozen Krispy Kreme doughnuts, then must run 2 miles back to campus-all in under an hour. And it’s for charity.

Jeremy Glick, a 27-year old from Raleigh did it this year in 29 minutes and 31 seconds. If this annual student race were any indicator, it would seem that men run faster than women for donuts. This year Trisha Moore, this year’s Female winner did it in 36:30.

It should be mentioned that you don’t have to eat the donuts to run, but their public relations people like it if you do. Jeremy did. And, if you are going to have sugar race through your system and convert to glucose (translation: Calories that don’t store as fat) after an intense workout is the best time for that. It would be way better if you didn’t eat a dozen, and definitely don’t do it halfway through your workout, but sugar (or half a small Snicker’s bar, let’s be real here) AFTER your workout is the best time of the day for it.

“I felt the I was literally standing on a plateau out there in space, a plateau that science and technology allowed me to get to. But now, with what I was seeing and, more importantly, what I was feeling at that moment in time, science and technology had no answers for. Literally (they had) no answers because there I was, and there you are—the Earth—dynamic, overwhelming.

I felt about the world that there was just too much purpose, too much logic, it was just too beautiful to have happened by itself. There HAS to be someone bigger than you, and bigger than me. And I mean this in a spiritual sense, not a religious sense. There has to be a Creator of the universe who stands above the religions that we, ourselves, create to govern our lives.”

—Gene Cernan,

NASA astronaut

Apollo 10 and 16

KBeach Pride

2011-01-20T17:41:00.000-08:00

I spent 8 hours yesterday at the radio station, interviewing the campus Facilities and Plant Manager on some interesting new plans for sustainability, I showed a student the “cockpit” of the radio station, the main console, and let him out for a test loop, (he was brilliant on the air!) on top of pre-recording a news segment that will air all day AND my own two-hour morning show shift. Time was at a stand still, I could have worked like that forever. Now if they would only pay me for doing it.

It's ironic that the parts of my radio career that were the most satisfying were at the hands of public radio and college radio, two bastard sons of our industry not known for enriching the lives of thier employees in anything but experience. The salary, when there was one, was a fraction of what I made in the corporate syndicated radio system.

“Look at it this way,” said the Corporate Human Resources Directress, leaning in as if effect was necessary after she told me my contract would not be renewed. “There are people out there who would climb over your warm carcass to get your job if you so much as tripped and fell down on this job. I get a dozen applications from in-house every time you sneeze.” I could continue on without a contract, without benefits, at will—THEIR will—or I could leave. My choice. I left. I have nothing if I don’t have my pride, I told myself. Years later I realize I was wrong. I have nothing AND I don’t have my pride.

Today I spoke with a young friend who just started an editing job at a t.v. station 50 miles away, for whom the commute is horrendous. He has decided he would rather tender his resignation and take his chances on the open market. As he is unaware of the astronomical chances of finding and/or starting a new job with full benefits in between Thanksgiving and Christmas, and in Southern California, I told him he was out of his f***king mind. (I believe there is actually a law on the books requiring it. The Friendship Manners Code MC #48405,) Once again, I’ve realized too late that I was wrong. I should have said, “Would you introduce me to your boss?”

Good News

2011-01-18T17:45:00.000-08:00

Honkin At Home

2011-01-11T09:39:00.000-08:00

I got up this morning looking for some good news and all I could find was more bad news. California is broke, a crazy man is going to picket a little girl’s funeral in the name of Jesus, and a snowstorm will usher a new Ice Age onto a decidedly slippery stage called the East Coast. Back to bed...

Cold Remedy: Be A Copy Cat!

I’m home, wrestling a cold and keeping it quarantined until it goes away. It wants to get out, make new friends, leave it's mark. Sounds like a college student, so I’m sure I picked it up at school. By the time my radio show was over yesterday, I was sneezing; by the time I got home I began honking like a goose every time I tried to breathe deeply. I heard about a friend who went to work with 102-degree fever because he was bored staying home. I wondered if In a couple of days when everyone is home with the cold he brought to the office, will HE go home to rest because he’s bored at work? One could only hope that grown people would have the sense God gave a cat.

My cat has been sneezing since Thursday, but he stayed home. It’s a good thing, too. When he is home, I’m here like a slave to clean up the diarrhea and snot, keep him hydrated and fed. Smart cat. He’s better today and I went down for the count last night. Can you get a cold from a cat?

Bugging Sis On Her Birthday*

2011-01-03T23:31:00.000-08:00

My sisters, Rebecca & Loretta

My sister Becki has always been a trailblazer. Once, when she was little, she ate a cockroach because we told her to. Her face screwed up and she spit it out, we forgot to tell her it wouldn’t taste good.

Eight years separate us, and I remember her best from our days in Santa Clara and San Jose. She was just coming into her own, the college years and when David and I came out, it was no big deal to her, which was a HUGE deal to us. She might not have formed a complete opinion about it at 19, but she wasn’t going to sully our relationship with any fallout from it.

I remember doing The Forum and the Six Day Outdoor Course with her. One of it's promises was to release you from the bonds of inhibited expression. I could hardly imagine her inhibited, but if you are familiar with Becki, version 3.0, you know inhibition is not one of her strong suits, while NOT sugarcoating the truth IS.

She beat cancer, she beat it back and down and onto the ground, all the while grieving her husband, the father of her two kids, that she lost to his own cancer. “I’ve had my cry, now I’ve got to get busy,” I recall her saying the day she told me about her diagnosis, “I got a lot of s**t to DO!” I knew she would beat it. Hell, this chick just might EAT it.

Happy Birthday, Sis![1] I know they told us years ago that we both shouldn’t be here in 2011. It feels nice to share that, and hopefully a bug—a worm, from a tequila bottle, perhaps— to the next 40 (something) years![2]

[1] Her birthday is actually January 4^th.

[2] You go ahead, ask her. I know better.

2011-01-02T14:24:00.000-08:00

Cats Watching Concerts

Off To A Great Start (That's A Wrap, Pt. 2)

2011-01-01T23:30:00.000-08:00

The year began with THE line of the Rose Parade telecast, spoken by hostess Stephanie Edwards; "I'm going to have some nuts put on MY face today!" She was responding to the news that they use nuts on the faces on floats because they don't decay. Her co-host Bob Eubanks responded, "Shall I tell your plastic surgeon?" It was a “George-and-Martha” moment.[1] I love live TV!

Even though I promised I’d NEVER compile one, I continue with my very own Year-In-Review trip down the blogpath...

Kbeach Studios at Cal State University Long Beach

Last August I got a call from an old friend from my KJAZZ days on campus at CSULB. He was now running the University’s internet radio station and he wanted me to come see something.

The radio station on campus is in better equipped in some ways than the “real air” jazz station originating on the same campus. KBeach.org certainly enjoys a better profile. They are on the first floor on the Student Union building, in the heart of the campus, behind a wall of glass.

My buddy there showed me around knowing this was like rolling catnip in front of a kitten, I had way too much free time on my hand. Then he showed me their iPhone app. In shorter time that it took to connect to KIIS-FM through the I Heart Radio app, I was listening from the palm of my hand. I’ve been volunteering as management and doing a show there ever since. I’m enjoying it so much I don’t know where the last four months have gone, (or why I have to work two other jobs!)

Starting Monday morning, January 3^rd, for the next three weeks while school is on Winter Break, I’m going to test drive my new morning radio show, “Mornings On The Beach” It streams Monday through Friday 8a – 10a Pacific Standard Time on KBeach.org on your computer, or on your iPhone or Android app.[2]:

We’ll debut to a full campus after the MLK Holiday Weekend It’s going to be a great year.

[1] Ala “Who’s Afraid Of Virginia Woolf”

[2] If you forget, you’ll have plenty of reminders as I fire up the social networking I’ve only been using for my own amusement. Lookout. You have been warned: No one is as Tweetable as a man with a new morning radio show.

That's A Wrap

2010-12-31T23:51:00.000-08:00

I started out the year taking tests for civil service jobs I never heard a word about afterward, connecting with an old friend and former gym mate from 25 years ago, and a legendary bulldog’s memorial service.

In February, after a year of free production (as in I produced for free), I could see the end of the syndicated jazz show. The trickle of underwriting for this much beloved but little supported art form was gone. The show would become a statistic of the Great Recession. I was still recording some amazing concerts gratis. One concert, with the Cal State Concert Jazz Orchestra, was so amazing, I might have paid them, except they made me watch from the “snipers nest” of a projection booth-slash-recording-studio(?). As I hauled my own equipment across the massive campus parking lot in the rain, I filed the moment away for blogging at a later time. I kept it stored in the “Only ME!” file.

My neighbor and landlord’s magical 70^th birthday party was the highlight of the Spring. I can still taste the duck and see the deflected light through Bobby & Lisa’s improvised roof of old sails. Two months later, Richard had high-tailed it to the desert fulltime and the neon palm trees on the deck went dark. They were a terrific metaphor, it’s been a bit too quiet around here lately.

In May I went over to my aunt’s house in Boyle Heights and spent the rest of this year working on it. Life Lesson #111: The size of the project times the years on the house will be equal to the size of the repairs you’ll generate by fixing anything. I wish I had learned this before working on Bill’s house out in the desert.

My life this year has been working on the aging, as in houses. I have spent more time next to a wheelchair than I’d like to... again, and gave thank to God it wasn’t mine.

(more on the way!)

Dying For A Smoke

2010-12-29T20:53:00.000-08:00

Where Are The False Advertising Police?

Matt SMS’d me a photo (sent me a text message with a photo) the other day from the grocery store. Now, there are marketing claims and there are MARKETING claims! Let’s leave at that. My mom reads this. Besides, the picture speaks for itself.

Speaking of reading this and topping, I need 387 more readers to top the 5,000-reader mark! Can you believe it? 4,613 individuals found themselves with enough time on their hands to check in with this blog[1]. If you haven’t noticed the traffic flow, (and how COULD you?) you might have noticed that the quality of the ad content has changed. I’m attracting more big brand names than with the first four years of this blog put together. Now let’s see what happens after this next posting. And, by the way, thanks, and tell 387 more of your friends!

"I never saw any cheeseburger"

The dog and I are back in Palm Springs. Bill is in the “Four Seasons of Assisted Care facilities” in Rancho Mirage, again. It’s not the W, but it’s close. When I take Cocoa for a visit, it’s like Opening Night at the circus. Today, he skipped a meal and I bought a cheeseburger on the way for a visit. Apparently Bill had not had a cheeseburger in while either and grabbed a bite himself. Once again, I was an accomplice to a healthcare assault, this time with an UNcontrolled substance. I’ll explain.

Back in the late ‘80’s, after a cavalcade of dying friends has marched through my life, a good pal, David Leo was one of the last. David was the celebrated DJ at the Spike, his live mixes of rock and soul and disco are what put The Spike/L.A. on the international map.

It was Christmas night and he lay dying of Kaposi’s sarcoma in County USC, his family having flown in and out for what was to be their last visit, now they were gone. Everybody knew it wouldn’t be long. David was alert when I called and promised to visit later that.

“Anything you need?” I asked.

“Yeah, but do you believe in Santa Claus?”

“Not anymore, David, why?” I wasn’t sure if it might be the morphine.

“Because I do,” he said, “and if he shows up tonight with a joint, I will continue to believe in him forever!” Then he laughed and hacked up half a lung in the process. Tobacco long since forbidden him, he begged me to bring him one last smoke for Christmas. No one had thought to exclude that on his chart. After a year and a half of witnessing his agony, he didn’t have to beg me hard.

A couple of hours later, David and I were in the very top of a stairwell in that colossal, majestic old hospital that you glimpse off Highway 5 as you dash past it in Boyle Heights. For fear of being caught, David had opened a door and lit up, IV drip in hand. He didn’t have to say a word; he just smiled and smoked the damn thing himself. I knew I would have to walk back through the hospital so I stepped onto the roof, not wanting to reek of it.

“Tell Santa, thanks,” he choked on the smoke. That smile was a moment I wouldn’t trade for anything.

The open door had the opposite effect of concealing our presence. It created a chimney, sucking the heat out of the building and making the hallways below slightly windy. Staff came in search of the problem and soon word spread. Instead of being arrested, we were joined by two nurses, another patient and someone who looked like a kitchen aide. I figured Santa could exit now, and left David for the last time, among friends.

A few weeks after David passed I got a call from one of his relations. He had apparently left me something. I was asked to go over and claim it quickly, as his landlord had threatened to toss what wasn’t removed from the apartment into the street. An envelope was waiting, tucked into the mail slot on the unlocked door of his Hollywood single. Inside the envelope was a thank you letter for that Christmas night, also willing me his cassette tape collection, and whatever his family had not wanted.

Inside the apartment was a maze constructed of shelves of vinyl records, floor to ceiling, stacked back to back. In one corner was a double bed tucked neatly below what was the stairway to another apartment upstairs. A better-equipped burrow I’ve never seen. Video, TV, stereo (cassette with DOLBY!) and Sensurround sound were all built into the walls, all within arms reach. The kitchen was immediately available as was the bathroom, but the rest of the apartment was record storage. I found the cassette library and realized all the vinyl was going into the garbage. I carted about 800 discs home before fatigue and lack of storage at my house put and end to it.

Tonight, as I tucked the dog back into the car before someone from security put an end to our cheeseburger picnic...(How DARE YOU have fun with a patient!) my guilt from that illegal hospital activity back twenty-some years ago was finally abated. I’d been to confession long ago, but now I had proof that I had mended my felonious ways. Now I was visiting patients armed only with contraband fast food, but they probably have me just the same on security cam.

I just hope Bill doesn’t have a fit from the bite of cholesterol he ingested, because this posting would be evidence of my complicity. I can assure you if that happens a lot more than 5,000 people will read my blog. Hmmm, the “Cholesterol Killer”...How many hits do you think THAT would be worth? Don’t scream, I’m just kidding...[2]

[1] In the last five years, according to Google Analytics.

[2] Bill has assured me he will wait, at very least, until after his next meal at the facility to have a fit. If you’re reading this posting, then that’s already happened and I’m off the hook.

Home For The Holidays

2010-12-26T10:36:00.000-08:00

The obvious reasons for being with family for the holidays are everywhere. You can’t avoid them. They are on television between the good stuff, on billboards, bus boards, menu cards, even gift cards. Home, hearth, loving hugs, you know the images. The less than obvious reasons for being home for the holidays in MY family begin with If You’re Not There, They’ll Talk About YOU. (Hey, Andy, I’m just sayin...)

It’s been two years since Dad passed, and almost three since cancer took Jeff, Becki’s husband, but a new generation of infants has renewed our family and we were right back in the middle of all the yelling and screaming before I realized it was like old times again. When Dad’s name comes up, it’s with lots of love and laughs. (Remember what I said about not being there?) And Jeff and David are remembered all the time, so the change in the family dynamic is not about excluding a memory, it’s now again about making new ones—even if the new ones are dogs.

Being close enough to drive two hours, getting a dog sitter seems silly to my sister and brother-in-law, whose care they plan their trip around. This year, finally included, they felt like family members, who were finally home for Christmas. They (the dogs, not my sister & brother-in-law) were as adorable as frequently publicized, which only made my sister and brother-in-law prey to an extended invitation from Mom for NEXT Christmas.

I’m reaching the top of the family age curve and it seems like there are babies everywhere. My nephew Graham did the sort of toddler gymnastics, falling literally head over heels down the carpeted stairway that would kill someone who was another two feet taller. Had someone a camera, it would have been worth a million hits on YouTube.

By the way, the day after Christmas is another sort of holiday around our house. It’s Mom and Dad’s anniversary. They were married at Our Lady of the Rosary of Talpa Catholic Church in Boyle Heights. Happy Anniversary!

December 26, 1954

Assisted Profit Facility

2010-12-13T10:52:00.000-08:00

Sunset From Bill O The Desert's House

I have been whipped by the desert again, this time emotionally, as well as by the wind this time. Bill called from his “assisted care facility” in Palm Springs anxious and distraught. “I’m scared,” he said. His claim was not made lightly, it would have been easier for Superman to have made it than this proud Massachusetts man formed from the briny stock of deep sea fishermen.

What I had witnessed on his last visit was enough to convince me something had to be done. The place made Randall McMurphy’’s digs from “One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest” look like the Four Seasons. In fact, Bill had recently been moved from his very Four-Seasons-Hotel-like facility in Rancho Mirage to this one, ostensibly owned by the same care giving corporation, but it would be impossible to draw any connection based on the care, the attendants, the care of the building itself. Cheesy, cheesy, understaffed, piss-smelling melting pot of the conscious and barely so. If this is “all within current health code and regulations” then CHANGE the F-in’ code!

It occurred to me, while I was wondering the hallways looking for someone to help me find my friend, that this is the very industry that is fighting so hard for their status quo. You cannot convince me that there was enough staff on board to run the place, let alone meet their patients' continued care needs. The money this corporation is making off each and every one of the patients in their care is more than enough for both profit AND care, but they certainly aren’t’ spending it on care. Not to hear the tales from Bill and his ex facility mates.

I was in the place for 20 minutes looking for him before an employee would acknowledge me. They had their hands full. Some of them were so full they were required to sit down for long periods of time away from people, in the rear nursing station of the building. Any of the twenty or so nodding heads that were gathered in the front lobby could have been kidnapped and nobody would have stopped them. Some of the rooms have been burglarized (this is exactly that the staff claimed when Bill’s watch and wheelchair went missing... A WHEELCHAIR! How do you lose those in a nursing home?) And it is easy to see how this could be possible given my uninterrupted stroll though the place at 6pm. It was past dinnertime, most of the residency was in wheelchairs and sitting in the hallways. Where was the staff?

I was finally able to corner a panic-stricken employee (nurse?) who told me I could not see Bill. When I pressed why (I HAD to press or be ignored) she said “They’re taking him to emergency! He’s not very well right now! Then she disappeared down the hallway.

I followed the ambulance to emergency and was denied information because I’m not kin. I was all the guy had that night and we were both helpless.

Fast forward to last Friday when he begged me to come and get him. I wondered if it was the meds again, or was this the real thing. By the time I could pull it together, get someone to handle the dog and cats and drive out it was rush hour on the 91 Freeway. (PAUSE HERE THREE HOURS FOR EFFECT)

His sister had already driven down from the Valley and delivered him home, sans aforementioned wheelchair, but he was happy. His condition had stabilized from the last time I’d seen him, that nightmare visit to the seventh ring of Dante’s Inferno. He seemed calm and peaceful but we both know it would only be a matter of time until the meds wore off. They don’t pack up your meds when you sign yourself out of assisted care for lack of said care. They aren’t too happy with you while you are telling them you rate them an F-minus for effort and an A+ for excuses and lack of responsibility. And that is what Bill had to do to get home and die in peace. And that, if that gas we smell is any indication. may occur sooner than later.

To be continued....

Finished Business

2010-12-06T10:01:00.000-08:00

It’s been a busy November, evidenced by the fact that I’m writing about it in December. I finished the major renovation of my Tia Connie’s house in Boyle Heights. You have to know my heart jumped into my throat the other night when I turned on the news and heard there was “a 3-alarm blaze in a residential two-story home in BOYLE HEIGHTS!” We had installed a rebuilt gas floor heater the week before. It took about 30 seconds to determine it was the wrong street, but those 30 seconds were worth twenty cups of coffee, to me.

I completed installing a new floor for my infirm friend “Bill Of The Desert”. It was the dog and me in screamingly high winds, rain and temps below 40. Fun. But the floor was solid, sealed and ready for vinyl covering. I was ready for a wheelchair, I was so sore everywhere. Luckily Bill had a few around. And I have a tip for the thrill seekers among you. Forget bungee jumping, skip cliff diving or zip lines. Try carrying a 4x8 sheet of sub flooring by yourself in a windstorm. The dog dove for cover, I only wish I had it gotten it on camera.

Mom rocked Thanksgiving again, and she was remembering her first date with my dad. Having just returned with a Purple Heart from Korea, he convinced my mom that movie theatres were too claustrophobic; they should go to the drive-in instead. He played the PTSD card, way to go, Dad! This acorn knows which tree he’s from.

I'm the WAY too white one, 3rd from the right.

I got my butt kicked in my bodybuilding contest. I trained for months, watching my nutrition, doing the intense dieting and carbo depletion and took 7^th out of 13 in my class. What was I thinking? Apparently I was the only one who competed without assaulting my internal organs with steroids. Apparently the performance enhancement industry is robust. Nice to know I pushed my body to its personal best and that I did it organically, but a tough walk on contest day.

People ask me why I have competed in such a fringe “sport” for the last ten years. The answer is easy: I worked in a gym. My practice was inside a sports-injury clinic located inside Angel City Fitness in Marina Del Rey. Professional and amateur ranking bodybuilders were my clients and associates. It was the thing I thought I could NEVER do and felt that no one could be less suited for it than I. With that in mind, I just knew I had to do it. That’s the way I am. Don’t tell me I can’t because I will.

A month into the preparation process of that first contest in 2000, that thinking evolved into doing it just for my continued health. It was too hard for a shallow commitment. For my 45^th birthday I decided that a trophy for being in the best shape of my life would make a great gift. I told everybody and then I couldn’t back out. And I’ve picked up seven such gifts for myself since, 7 for 9, not a bad record. And since that itch has been scratched, I will do what those who no longer train do. I will teach.

Charley at Check In

Thanks to my long time coach, Ray Byers, my wellness coach and “angel” Eugenia Luvizaro, my nutritional counselor Mardi Lujan, my doctors, Stephen Goldman, Frank Kaden and Bill Bergman, and my training partners, Philip Van de Voet and Matt Hornick. A special thank you to my biggest fan and best friend, Scott, who is always more excited at competition time than I am. And to Charley Sharp of Lindsay Productions, without whom the whole experience would have been a whole lot less fun.

And The Banda Played On

2010-11-21T08:33:00.000-08:00

Somewhere on this almost full-moon desert night, there is a mournful train whistle wailing across the horizon but you can’t here it from here. The people across the street in this desert community of Desert Hot Springs are having a party. I’ve been trying to watch reruns of “The West Wing” to a banda beat.

I’m out here weekends, working on a kitchen renovation for an old pal whose medical adventures have rendered him incapable. This weekend I brought earplugs.

Last weekend the local banda band, or more accurately, the local banda band wannabees, rehearsed until 4:00 a.m. Each time they paused for refreshment, I hoped, along with all the neighbors, that they would get better. I was disappointed each time. They got incrementally worse. Around 3:55 in the morning, the police invited them to release all rhythmic hostages and have mercy on the sleepless neighborhood. I was crazed and it didn’t matter that they had stopped; I heard them in my head until six.

Maybe it’s because I can’t stand the accordion unless I’m watching “the Champagne Music Of Lawrence Welk” on PBS. Maybe I’m just afraid that if I dressed in pointy boots, tight jeans, and a white cowboy hat, I would blend in so well as to disappear into the desert like tumbleweed.

And still the banda plays on. I’m getting a headache now. The D.J. is mixing up-tempo now, like a truck shifting gears. People are screaming across the street and for once it’s a good thing. At least they are playing hits from the Mexican-American Top 40, judging by the reaction of the invited, not the terrible band from down the street. Here’s the kicker: It’s raining. The wind is howling like a bad Halloween movie, but the people across the street are like the post office: Nothing stops them. Rain-or-shine this wedding-quinceñera-baby shower (they all look alike) is intent on doing a cumbia on the neighborhood.

Swear to God there are trucks parked on the lawn—on MY FRIEND’S lawn (or what passes for it). There are no curbs in this part of town, only tarmac streets and sand. They have outlaw parking out here when they really need some bad music vigilantes.