Monthly Archives: December 2018

I've read a few articles like this one and this one trying to explain that Kevin Spacey video. Nice to see that I'm not the only one who doesn't know what the hell he's thinking. The only way this man could be in worse trouble would be if he hired Rudy Giuliani to defend him.

• Donald Trump is sitting home alone waiting for Democrats to come offer him a deal to fund his wall. I can sympathize. I'm sitting home alone waiting for Kate Upton to come offer me a lap dance.

I've posted this before. As my Christmas gift to myself, I'm posting it again…

The kid in the above photo is me and I don't care that you don't believe it. It's me. I'm not sure where it was taken — some department store, probably May Company — or how old I was. Seven? Eight? Beats me. But it's me. And is it my imagination or does Santa look like he's telling me not to tell my parents about something he said or did?

I don't have a lot of great Christmas memories left to share here. In fifteen years of blogging and telling tales of my past, I may have exhausted my supply. There weren't that many to begin with.

I do not remember ever seriously believing in Santa or of Christmas being that big a deal around our house. It was a time of love and joy and gifts but with my family, it was always a time of love and joy and gifts. The main features unique to Christmas time were a tree in the living room, a lot of TV specials I had to watch and a certain synchronization of presents.

Our family consisted of me, my mother, my father, my Uncle Nathan, my Aunt Dot and my Uncle Aaron. Nathan and Dot were my father's brother and sister. Aaron was Dot's husband. Nathan never married. One year, my mother's parents came out from Hartford and stayed with us for the holiday season. Then after Grandpa passed away, it was just Grandma one year. After Aaron died, we'd invite Aunt Dot's best friend Sally to join us for Christmas Dinner if she didn't travel out of town to be with other members of her family.

Since Sally was going to bring me a present, I felt I should get her one…and I never knew what to get for her. All she seemed to want was that I address her as "Aunt Sally" and you couldn't wrap that and put it beneath the tree. I think I usually gave her candy but the real gift was that I'd make the card out to "Aunt Sally." The rest of us were real good at taking the gift-selecting burden off each other by hinting with a minimum of subtlety as to what we wanted.

So we usually had six or less people at the table…and then as people died, it went down to five and then four…and at some point, it seemed a bit depressing to have much of a celebration at Christmas. It just reminded those of us who were left of those of us who were not.

At any given assemblage around the table, at least one person was Jewish and one was Catholic — and then you had me who had never been Bar Mitzvahed but identified as more-or-less Jewish but really had a foot in both camps. Early in my childhood, there had been a bit of polite, respectful debate about the co-existence of the two faiths in one family and then there had been that ghastly mistake of enrolling me in a Sunday Hebrew school. But the religious situation was never that serious nor was it divisive. There didn't seem to be any point to it.

One reason I find the whole current "War on Christmas" thing so phony is that each year I intermingled with people of different religions and there was never an issue. Not for one second did anyone attach any significance to wishing someone "Season's Greetings" instead of "Merry Christmas" or "Happy Hanukkah" instead of some other preferred form.

Not just in our house but throughout the neighborhood and at school, one good wish was as innocent and friendly as another. No hidden meanings or schemes to demean any faith were inferred or assumed. "Happy Holidays" meant "I hope your holidays (whatever they may be) are happy for you." It's amazing that some people have become convinced that that innocent little pleasantry could ever mean something menacing.

I've always felt that way about religious preference or even bigotry. Just let everyone be whatever they want to be and respect it. I feel the same way about racial prejudice or about prejudice over sexual orientation. If you just respect that others are what they are, it works out fine. It only becomes a war if you somehow feel threatened and choose to start one.

Getting back to the photo up top: I've been staring at it, trying to figure out what was on my mind when it was taken. This is a guess but I think it's a good one.

I never really believed in Santa…or if I did, I didn't believe the guy in the red suit at the May Company was the real Santa because — you know — he'd be too busy just before Christmas to sit around a department store all day. Besides, I was well aware there was a Santa down the street at Bullock's Department Store and another one over in Beverly Hills at Robinson's and what about that Santa outside on Wilshire Boulevard near Rodeo Drive who was out there all day ringing a bell for some charity and posing for photos?

So if I did ever believe there was a real Santa Claus — and I don't recall that I did — I'd figured out that I couldn't meet him or sit on his lap. The guy at May Company was some outta-work actor or someone they'd hire to impersonate The Man Himself to draw customers into their store. At that age, thinking like that is not cynicism. It's figuring out the world around you and all the fibs — some of them, no doubt well meant — that you need to overcome if you're ever going to grow up.

By the time this photo was taken, I knew there was no Santa. So I'm thinking I was pressured by some relative with the camera to get in the line to sit on the impostor's lap…and what was on my mind was probably something like this: "What am I supposed to do here? Pretend this guy is the real Santa, meaning that I go along with a fraud? Tell him my list of stuff I want this year? Or maybe I should rip that fake beard off him and expose him as the fake he is?"

I'm pretty sure I didn't do that last thing. I probably went along with the hoax just to get it over with.

Or knowing me, I may have climbed up on his knee and whispered to him, "I'll make a deal with you, fella. If you'll pull some strings to get me that Sneaky Pete Magic Set I want, I won't blow the whistle and tell all the kids in line that you're just an office temp in a fake beard!"

And history does show that one year, I did get my own Sneaky Pete Magic Set. So maybe this is the year that I learned that while racial or religious prejudice doesn't work, blackmail sometimes does. Have a Merry Whatever.

Christmas Eve with — you guessed it! — Cookie Monster…

I was at a party this evening and the main topic seemed to be the Kevin Spacey video. The prevailing theory at the party was that Mr. Spacey woke up one morning and thought, "Gee, just in case there are some people in this world who don't think I'm creepy and crazy, I'd better make a YouTube video that will convince those people."

Second most discussed topic was the new Spider-Man animated feature. Everyone at the party who'd seen it seemed to think it was sensational and a couple called it the best feature made out of a comic book ever. I have not seen it. I have a "screener" DVD here but I'm thinking this is the kind of film that oughta be seen in a theater, preferably one that makes good popcorn.

In third place was Trump — how he's going to get out of this government shutdown impasse and why he thinks he can say he's proud to shutdown the government over the wall and then try to blame Democrats for shutting down the government over the wall. Also, we discussed how pissed he'd be to know he was only the third most talked-out topic at our party.

Fourth was Mary Poppins Returns. Everyone there who'd seen it loved it or at least liked it. The consensus seemed to be that if you're going to make a sequel to a classic picture like that, you can't do much better than they did.

And in fifth place: What's the deal with the Dow Jones? Oh, yes — and Merry Christmas!

• Someone, anyone…take that weird video Kevin Spacey just released and edit it to replace him with Christopher Plummer.

John Swansburg makes the case that the original animated special of the Dr. Seuss classic How the Grinch Stole Christmas is superior to the good doctor's original book. I don't quite buy that but I do think it's a wonderful adaptation, perhaps the last of any great animated films that director Chuck Jones helmed. In his later years, he relied on a steadily-narrowing bag o' tricks and every character had twitching noses and long, Wile E. Coyote-style camera looks…but it all kinda fit this particular story. Jones co-creating with Walt Kelly didn't work on a Pogo special but Jones and Ted (Dr. Seuss) Geisel produced something that, to me, combined what each man did best.

I know a lot of people didn't like it…and there are rumors that Geisel didn't, either. I consider it one of the three great animated Xmas specials, the other two being A Charlie Brown Christmas and Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol. I can't decide which of the three I like best, nor do I see any reason why I have to decide. I also liked Frosty the Snowman (I'm on the commentary track for its latest video release) and A Garfield Christmas (no, I didn't work on it) and a few others.

Sarah Archer writes about a great Christmas record that doesn't get nearly enough play these days…Stan Freberg's "Green Christmas" — or as it's sometimes spelled, "Green Chri$tma$." Hard to believe that someone could consider Stan's creation "sacrilegious." It's one of the very few hit Christmas records ever made that reminds listeners what Christmas is all about.

Julien Neel, my favorite one-man quartet, has some fun with Mr. Berlin's "White Christmas," more or less Drifters-style…

Ed Alexander wrote me and said, "Geez, Mark, I don't mean to be intrusive (I am, however, obviously incapable of restraint) but I can't help noticing that there's a bit of an uncommonly grumpy tone to the last couple of your 12/22 posts. I hope everything's okay." Everything's fine, Ed.

Well, not everything. I have a couple of friends who are hospitalized and a couple more battling flu and other such ailments. I also have a few more who are worried — unrealistically so, I think — that Donald Trump's going to do something really, really desperate and destructive. But I'm fine, thanks. I think sometimes I sound grumpier than I am because I'm trying to amuse.

To my surprise, by the way, I got a call today from a senior exec with the Boston Market chain. On a Sunday morning (!), the guy called to apologize, offer me free meals, promise to look into my complaints, etc. I was impressed with that.

And here's how he got my number, in case you're wondering: On the receipt I got at Boston Market, they have the address of a website where one can send complaints, praise, suggestions, etc. I used the site to send them a link to my blog post and whoever monitors those submissions alerted the guy…and we had a very nice conversation. He promised to call me back when he can tell me something concrete that might get me to give Boston Market another try. Can't ask for more than that.

About Trump: The last few days, all the news-type coverage I've watched has featured folks telling us what Trump's going to do. I don't think anyone has a clue what this guy is going to do about anything…and that may include Trump himself. It wouldn't even surprise me now if he turned on his base in some way…which he almost did momentarily with the deal to fund the government. It wouldn't surprise me if he didn't, either. (Some of them are also pissed at the idea that we won't be as seriously in Syria and Afghanistan trying to kick butt.)

You know how I wrote the other day here that people who claim to be able to read your mind or contact the dead are all, without exception, frauds? I'm starting to feel that way about people who are telling us what Trump will do next.

There are many definitions of the word "friend." I just did an online search and found that the third one here is oddly applicable to my evening…

Who (besides anyone) could have thought the boulevards and airport roadways would be a bit crowded?  And who (besides everyone except me, apparently) wouldn't refuse to do that?  But I got her to curbside at the terminal and from what I heard folks saying out there, I'm guessing, she'll be getting through the TSA check-in around the time the government shutdown is settled.  I don't mean the current one.  I mean the next one or maybe the one after.

(We may be in for a lot of them.  If Trump's had three this year with his party in control of both the House and Senate, having one of those under Democratic control ain't gonna make things easier.)

But getting out of the airport wasn't as bad as getting into the airport…and neither of them was as annoying as what happened next.  I may be taking this too seriously but I was really rankled by a visit I made to the Boston Market outlet on Sepulveda near LAX.  I used to always like Boston Markets (see here) and it saddens me that I'll probably never set foot in one again.  The one I went to was pretty decent the last time I was there, a few years ago.

I placed my order — roast turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy, side of corn — and waited. And waited. And waited and waited. None of these items had to be cooked. They were all ready in various compartments of the counter on which the crew assembles your meal…but I also noticed a lot of spilled food and crumbs all over, like a puddle of dried-and-hardened macaroni and cheese on the counter that no one had bothered to clean up. And little drops of splattered side dishes. It didn't seem very clean there.

And I continued to wait. Three people were assembling orders with all the speed of a Galapagos Tortoise. I checked the time-stamp on my receipt and clocked it from there…

After eighteen minutes, I said something to the main guy there, the one who adds the meat to your plate after others load the sides. He said, "We're getting to your order right now, sir." Four minutes later, I had it. That's twenty-two minutes — and remember, this is food that didn't require cooking. They weren't out of any of the items. It just took them twenty-two minutes to put two pieces of already-sliced turkey, a scoop of whipped potatoes, a serving of corn, a tiny disposable ramekin of gravy and a piece of corn bread onto a plastic plate.

It then took me one bite of each item to decide each was inedible and I needed to go somewhere else. Just awful. And I used to be such a fan of these places…

I'm sitting here today making the probable mistake of trying to figure out what's on Donald Trump's mind: Does he have an endgame strategy to this government shutdown? Why did he think this moment — when Democrats are about to take control of Congress — was a good time for this battle? It seems to me like a general saying, "No, let's not attack the enemy until they get stronger."

On Thursday, I was coming out of a building in Beverly Hills and I witnessed an argument with a man getting out of an Uber car and its driver yelling at each other. Near as I could tell, the driver was telling the passenger what a great man Donald Trump is and the passenger was saying Trump wasn't fit to slop pigs, let alone be President of the United States and it reached the point where the passenger said, "Pull over and let me out" and the driver said, "With pleasure." I wonder what you tip for that kind of ride.

Eliot A. Cohen is a professor at the Johns Hopkins University School of Advanced International Studies. He has penned a good essay on the resignation of Secretary of Defense James Mattis, and I would imagine that its lesson also applies to Brett McGurk, the special presidential envoy who also resigned the other day. The lesson is that you can serve the needs of the United States of America or you can serve the needs of Donald J. Trump…but no way can you do both at the same time.

I just saw a Grubhub commercial that tells me I can order from "over 85,000 restaurants nationwide" and they'll deliver. That's not true. I can order from any restaurant within about six miles from me. I can't get a hot, fresh pie from John's Pizza of Bleecker Street in New York delivered to my door in half an hour. Believe me. If I could, I would.

It is my solid belief that 100% of folks who claim to be able to read minds, contact the dead, sense the future via psychic powers or heal via such abilities are crooked and often dangerous frauds. And by "100%," I do not mean "almost 100%" or 99.9%." I mean every dishonest, lying one of 'em. This especially applies to John Of God, a much-heralded (and as criminal as any of them) faith healer in Brazil who scamming thousands of people…and raping the cuter ones. My pal Paul Harris can tell you about the guy better than I can.

Mary Poppins Returns has gotten mostly great reviews but a couple of wide-circulation critics have dumped on it, in some cases for being too much like the original and too unlike it, both at the same time. Don't believe 'em. Get a kid or become one for a while and go see it.

It wouldn't be Christmas Time here at newsfromme.com without this one…

So I'm channel-surfing newscasts about how the government may shut down in less than three hours unless Trump gets money for his wall. Folks on Trump's side keep arguing, "He was elected because he promised the American people this wall so he has to deliver." No one is pointing out that (a) he did not get elected by a majority of the American people or even the ones who voted in that election, nor are they noting (b) that what he promised was a free wall, one that Mexico would pay for. If you ask me if I want a free Ferrari 488 Pista, I'm going to say yes. If you tell me I've got to come up with a quarter of a million bucks for it, maybe I'm not as interested.

And as I recall, there were a lot of people — some of them, experts; some not — who were all for cracking down on illegal immigration but thought the "wall" thing was a waste of resources. There were better, wiser ways to do it. I don't know if they're right but where are they in this debate? The mud-wrestling before us seems to be about whether one sides with Trump about cracking down on Mexicans coming across our southern border or not. I see no discussion about whether this is the best way to achieve that…or even if the problem really is as outta-control as the "Build the wall!" people keep insisting. There's another point-of-view on that.

What bothers me about this kind of battle is that it stops being about what it's about. It becomes almost wholly about who gets the "win." Trump needs one badly. His opponents who think they have him on the ropes want to deny it to him. It sure doesn't feel to me like either side is being driven primarily by the question of what's better for the U.S. on this issue.

And the other thing that seems to be going unsaid on my TV this evening is this question: A G.O.P. Congressperson was just saying that we have to build The Wall because Trump promised it. I was hoping someone would say, "Trump also promised that there would be no cuts to Social Security, Medicare and Medicaid, no one would lose their health insurance, those who didn't have it would get it at affordable rates including those with pre-existing conditions and under him, health insurance would be less expensive and more efficient. Shouldn't he be delivering on that, too?"

I'm a big fan of the late recording artist Ross Bagdasarian, better known to you as David Seville, a man who had three large singing chipmunks living with him. His chipmunk life began when he recorded "The Chipmunk Song," one of the biggest hit records in the history of big hit records. Actually, he had a pretty hefty hit before that with "The Witch Doctor" and he also recorded a number of novelty tunes that are deserving of attention.

In this sixties when I got my first tape recorder — this was in the reel-to-reel days — I of course began experimenting with speeding my voice up a la Alvin and the Chipmunks. What kid with a variable speed tape recorder didn't? I also recorded "The Chipmunk Song" onto tape at the higher of my machine's two speeds and tried playing it back at the slower. I felt like I'd unlocked the secret of the Aztec Gods when I was able to hear Mr. Bagdasarian speaking Alvin's voice in a slow, deliberate manner.

He later produced vast quantities of Chipmunk material and I'm not sure when he began simplifying the process by hiring others to sing for (and sometimes speak for) Alvin, Simon and Theodore. Stephen Cox reveals the identities of some of these anonymous vocalists.