Monthly Archives: February 2015

I think I reran this once before but it's my blog and I'll run it as many times as I damn well please. Its first appearance was June 2, 2006…

For no visible reason, I'm going to tell a story from my past. Back around 1970, our local comic book club would sometimes adjourn its Saturday meeting and then a band of us would car pool to a local movie theater and take in a cheap double feature. One time, we caravaned to the Meralta in Culver City for the parlay of Kelly's Heroes — starring Clint Eastwood, Telly Savalas, Don Rickles and Donald Sutherland — followed by House of Dark Shadows.

I think it was a buck to get in and I hate to think what they could have charged us to get out. The Meralta (seen below) had probably been a lovely theater at some point but by the time we got to it, it was the kind of place where the cashier wore No-Pest Strips for earrings and the ushers were just cockroaches in uniforms. The seats were shabby and one out of every four was either broken, missing or filled with a dead body. The curtains no longer operated so (and this is critical to our story) the screen was open between films. And out in the lobby was a refreshment stand that sold popcorn that was stale when you could have purchased it to munch throughout D.W. Griffith's latest.

There were about ten of us there, crammed in a section of two rows with a gap or two where the seats were unsittable. We watched Kelly's Heroes and I don't think any of us particularly enjoyed it. Then came intermission. Some of us went out to the lobby but one of our group (a guy named Gary) stayed in his seat — he may have become permanently affixed by then — and handed some coins to another of our group (a guy named Barry). Said Gary to Barry, "Hey, while you're out there, get me a candy bar. Any kind." Barry was annoyed at being treated like an errand boy so he decided to go out and spend Gary's money on the lousiest candy bar he could find.

The Meralta refreshment stand had many to pick from but when Barry spotted a display of Idaho Spud bars, he knew that was it. The Idaho Spud is a popular candy in some parts of the country but apparently not in Southern California. None of us had ever heard of it before and I've never seen one since even though it has been manufactured since (their website says) 1911. The site also explains that it's "a wonderful combination of a light cocoa flavored marshmallow center drenched with a dark chocolate coating and then sprinkled with coconut."

And maybe it is. But you know what it looks like, in or out of its wrapper? It looks like a chocolate-covered potato.

Isn't that the first thing you'd assume? It's called an Idaho Spud and it has eyes all over its packaging. So what's the first thing you think of? Chocolate-covered potato, right?

And the Idaho Spud people have no one to blame but themselves. No one forced them to call it that. There isn't even a logical reason to call it that except that they're made in Idaho where, contrary to popular belief, not everything is a potato. In fact, I developed a theory that the guy who invented it turned to his wife and said, "Muriel, I've invented a new candy bar but I don't know what to name it" and she asked, "Well, what is it?" To which he replied, "It's a wonderful combination of a light cocoa flavored marshmallow center drenched with a dark chocolate coating and then sprinkled with coconut."

Muriel said, "That's easy. Call it an Idaho Spud." And the inventor, who was drinking to celebrate his new invention, was so plastered by this point that it sounded good to him. Especially because people would think it was a chocolate-covered potato. "That'll be great for sales," he said just before he passed out, face down in a bowl of vodka.

Anyway, Barry bought Gary an Idaho Spud, took it back to where we were sitting and handed it to Gary. "Here's your candy bar."

Gary looked at it and said, "What the hell is this?"

Barry said, "It's an Idaho Spud. I think it's a chocolate-covered potato or something."

Gary recoiled in horror. "I didn't ask for a chocolate-covered potato."

Barry replied, "You didn't say not to get you a chocolate-covered potato." Gary had to concede the point. Sadly, he pulled the wrapper from his candy bar, took one bite, hated it and hurled the remainder of the Idaho Spud at the screen…

…where it stuck.

This was still during intermission and the curtains were open, the screen was exposed. We all saw the Idaho Spud sail onto the screen of the Meralta and just stay there, about two-thirds of the way up, slightly to the left of center. Then House of Dark Shadows started. For us, House of Dark Shadows starred Jonathan Frid, Grayson Hall, Kathryn Leigh Scott, Nancy Barrett and an Idaho Spud candy bar. And the Idaho Spud should have had top billing because it was in every damn scene. Prominently featured, in fact.

My friends and I paid no attention to the movie. We just stared at the Idaho Spud. Every time the camera cut, it had a new role in the film. Sometimes, it was a beauty spot on one of the actresses' faces. Sometimes, it was a fly on a wall. There was a shot of a door where it looked like the doorbell. At one point — I don't recall the exact dialogue — one of the actors said, "What is this thing?" And we all answered, referring to the brown lump on his face, "It's a chocolate-covered potato." This was years before The Rocky Horror Picture Show and home video made yelling back at a movie screen a national and annoying fad.

Other members of the audience picked up our fascination with the alleged candy bar and by the end of the film, I don't think one single person at the Meralta was paying any attention to what the actors were saying or doing; only to how the lump figured into each shot. At one point, there was an odd lighting effect that made it look like the Spud had fallen off and a moan of disappointment echoed through the theater. But then, in the very next scene, you could see it was still there and a little cheer went up. It was still there when we left, having little idea what House of Dark Shadows was about. In fact, it was still there three weeks later when I took a date to the Meralta to see Airport. On the sheer strength of superior acting ability, the Idaho Spud stole the movie from Dean Martin.

That's about all there is to this story. I'm not sure I ever went back to the Meralta so as far as I'm concerned, the Idaho Spud remained in place until they tore the place down, maybe even after that. It probably didn't but I'd like to think it did. Even now, when I find myself trapped in a particularly boring movie and my mind wanders from the storyline, I find myself wishing I had something of the sort to focus my attention on. A good movie, of course, needs no external help. But a bad movie can always use a chocolate-covered potato somewhere.

Mike Huckabee is out there lately attacking Gay Marriage. I understand that the guy's running for president and he can't get near the nomination without the support of the extreme right, which is lukewarm at best to him. Actually, I doubt he can get near the nomination with their support but that's a separate discussion. Anyway, he's talking a lot lately about wedding cakes.

It's amazing how much of the argument against Gay Marriage is about wedding cakes. I just read a bunch of sites and speeches opposing same-sex wedlock and I was noticing how much the case against it has evolved. It used to be that letting Adam marry Steve would bring down The Wrath of God upon the Earth and destroy us all. Then after quite a few Adams married quite a few Steves and nothing of the sort happened, the dire result was the annihilation of Straight Marriage, which also somehow hasn't occurred. So now, the horrendous consequence of Gay Marriage is that somewhere, someone with a cake decorator is going to have to write two male or two female names on the same application of frosting.

Huckabee also says that expecting Christians to accept marriage equality is "like asking someone who's Jewish to start serving bacon-wrapped shrimp in their deli." No, Mike, it's like expecting someone who's already serving bacon-wrapped shrimp to not refuse to sell it to anyone who walks into their deli with money. You know…the way we don't let realtors say they won't sell to a black or Hispanic family that's financially qualified.

The former governor of Arkansas would probably make the argument that being gay is not the same as being a racial minority and in some ways, it isn't. In this way, it is. When asked if homosexuality is a "choice," Huckabee usually dodges or double-talks. Saying it is is just going to get him the inevitable "When did you decide to be straight?" question which makes that position look foolish. Saying it isn't just makes the analogy to racial discrimination fit better.

He usually opts to talk about how he has many "gay friends," which makes me wonder how a gay person could be friends with Mike Huckabee. I suspect the gay people he knows are more like acquaintances he doesn't know very well. That's if they exist at all. Could you be friends in any meaningful sense with someone who often said that you lead "an aberrant, unnatural, and sinful lifestyle?" and was not deserving of equal rights?

Like I said, I don't think Huckabee has a chance at the nomination. I don't even know why he's running. It's not, like some of the others, to get a good job on Fox News. He had one and he gave it up to run. Maybe he thinks that if enough people see him as a hateful bigot, he can steal Donald Trump's job on Celebrity Apprentice.

One of my favorite impressionists is a gent named Bob Anderson, who's been delighting audiences in Vegas and Branson for many decades. He's a pretty good singer when he's not doing impressions but he also has this amazing repertoire of mimicry. Basically, he does every male vocalist who ever headlined in Vegas including some pretty obscure ones. Last time I saw him, he did Frank, Dino, Tony and Sammy but he also did Mel Tormé, Otis Redding and Jack Jones.

Here he is on the 1979 Jerry Lewis Telethon. He opens as himself, then becomes Tony Bennett, Dean Martin and Tom Jones in that order. Jerry's reactions to the middle impression are priceless.

Anderson can currently be found at the Palazzo hotel-casino in Vegas starring in a Frank Sinatra tribute with a 32 piece orchestra. Having a 32 piece orchestra in that town in the era of (mostly) pre-recorded music is almost as impressive as any performer, Frank included, who might be singing to their music. But I'll bet you Bob is real good…

It's hard to believe that in 2015, we're debating vaccinations. Well, maybe it isn't. There seems to be a strain of opinion out there that views science and expertise as weapons of tyranny. It's like, "How dare they try to tell me what's right just because they know better?" The folks who start out their speeches about Climate Change with "Now, I'm not a scientist…" all seem to be implying, "…and I resent having to listen to them."

The best thing I've seen written about the vaccination issue is this satirical piece over at The Onion. Here, I'll quote the first paragraph just to give you the premise…

As a mother, I put my parenting decisions above all else. Nobody knows my son better than me, and the choices I make about how to care for him are no one's business but my own. So, when other people tell me how they think I should be raising my child, I simply can't tolerate it. Regardless of what anyone else thinks, I fully stand behind my choices as a mom, including my choice not to vaccinate my son, because it is my fundamental right as a parent to decide which eradicated diseases come roaring back.

This morning, Chris Christie's people are scrambling to walk back and play down a comment he made about how parents "need to have some measure of choice" about whether or not to vaccinate their children. Didn't we just go through a scare in this country about Ebola? Do we need to start new ones about mumps, smallpox, diphtheria, polio and measles?

I ran this on November 5, 2002 here, following a period when episodes of Hawaii Five-O (the original one) were turning up all the time on my TiVo. I actually liked the show, which is why I didn't block the TiVo from recording them and why I didn't just delete them unwatched. A couple of fans on the series however reacted badly to this piece, missing the part where I expressed my fondness for the early seasons, acting like I'd trashed an acknowledged television classic. I've watched more episodes since then and I stand by my list…but I must admit to more affection for the show when I don't see it too often…

My TiVo recently decided I must like old reruns of Hawaii Five-O and has been recording them whenever it has space available. In truth, my TiVo is wise, though a bit out of date. I did like Hawaii Five-O, at least for the first half of its 284 episodes. Along about its eighth year, it began to get a bit too repetitive. I also had a little problem watching its star, Jack Lord.

Mr. Lord, rumor had it, ruled his show with an iron fist and the belief that he was its one and only S*T*A*R. Such was his mania to preserve this reality that word began to leak, even while the show was up and operating, that its cast and crew seriously disliked the man who played Supercop Steve McGarrett. Writers and producers complained — within earshot of reporters — that he was rejecting scripts because they even slightly showcased other members of McGarrett's squad or didn't properly portray his character as brilliant, flawless and loved by women everywhere. Other cast members, sometimes anonymously, suggested the S*T*A*R had come to believe he was all that and more in real life. (Here's a link to an article that ran in TV Guide in 1971. For its time, it was surprisingly harsh about a major TV star.)

Ordinarily, I would not take such bad press at face value. But I ran into Jack Lord twice in bookstores, and heard tales from friends who'd also had the dubious pleasure. The way he acted — brusque and demanding, treating salespeople as servants to be ordered about — certainly made the reports easy to believe.

And ordinarily, I would not let that affect my enjoyment of a TV show or movie. But in this case, it did…at least a little. It somehow made the whole character of Steve McGarrett seem pompous and hollow.

That, coupled with the repetition, kind of ruined Hawaii Five-O for me, at least as a weekly pleasure. Recently, thanks to TiVo, I've been watching a few again. I like them as an occasional treat, but am reminded of the fact that every episode seemed to be a new arrangement of about eight of the same twelve scenes. Here is a list of them…

1. The governor puts pressure on McGarrett. Someone is murdering people all over Hawaii and getting away with it, but the governor somehow thinks that alone doesn't motivate McGarrett to catch the killer. The state's chief exec has to make it clear that, despite the fact that McGarrett's office has solved every crime in the state for the last ten years, they'd damn well better wrap this one up soon or there could be some big changes. (This scene sometimes prompts a brief outburst from McGarrett — "Get off my back!" — but he quickly recovers his equilibrium, apologizes and promises to work harder. And the governor understands that McGarrett is under a lot of stress because he cares so.)
2. McGarrett seals off the island. With a known criminal out there somewhere, McGarrett decides to prevent anyone from arriving on or departing the island of Oahu. "This island is like a rock," he usually says. "No one gets on or off until we catch this guy." One can only wonder what impact this would have on Hawaiian commerce or tourism if the Hawaiian police did it once, let alone every other week.
3. McGarrett sends the Hawaiians to search the island. The Hawaiian aides who work for McGarrett are there largely to be sent out on ridiculous missions. So McGarrett has evidence that the suspect eats grilled cheese sandwiches and he says to Kono (played by Zulu), "Get the boys and search the island. Visit every delicatessen, every coffee shop, every place someone could possibly get a grilled cheese sandwich. Someone must have seen something."
4. The Hawaiians quickly find an incredibly good witness. This one usually connects with the previous one: "We're in luck, Steve. Chin Ho found a druggist who runs a lunch counter on Molokai. Seems he distinctly remembers selling a grilled cheese sandwich to a man just four days ago. He thought the man was acting odd so he watched him walk to his car and wrote down the license number."
5. McGarrett gets philosophical. Sitting alone in his office, usually late at night, McGarrett muses on the nature of the criminal they're pursuing. One of McGarrett's aides (usually Danny Williams) finds him there and hears a speech that includes the phrase, "What kind of man…?" as in, "What kind of man would murder six accordion players, three stationers and an overweight nun, and leave a large bowl of tapioca to identify himself?"
6. McGarrett gets mad. This usually consists of him staring out his office window and saying, "He's out there, Danno…and he's mocking us."
7. The beautiful witness in swimwear. McGarrett, in a suit and tie despite the 90-degree weather, visits and interrogates a beautiful woman who is lounging by a swimming pool. She is obviously attracted to him.
8. McGarrett goes casual. McGarrett's underlings visit him at home or on a weekend retreat with either a new nugget of information or just to hear him brainstorm the problem at hand. In this scene, they're all in suits and ties despite the 90-degree weather while McGarrett is lounging by a swimming pool wearing shorts, a loud Hawaiian shirt and a broad, floppy straw hat. Just to show he's a regular guy who doesn't always wear a suit and tie.
9. McGarrett is windswept. This one seems to have begun in the later seasons, when comedians and TV critics were making jokes about Jack Lord's hair being sculpted of plastic. At some point, McGarrett's investigation would carry him to a high cliff or pier where breezes would blow his hair around. (Also sometimes achieved by having him meet someone coming off a helicopter or riding in one, himself.)
10. The Amateur Actor. After about the third season, there was apparently a shortage of professional actors in Hawaii who hadn't appeared several times on the show, and the producers didn't want to fly someone in from the states for a bit part. So there's always one scene where someone (often, a uniformed cop) has two lines and is so awful, you just know it's one of the camera operators or the caterer's brother. This one is invariably a highlight.
11. Some innocent remark gives McGarrett the answer. This one was actually seen in about half the TV detective shows ever done. Someone makes a stray comment like, "Well, let's get your mind off the case for a while. How about a cup of coffee?" And then Mannix, Barnaby Jones, Cannon, McCloud, McMillan or McGarrett says, "Wait a minute…coffee. Coffee is made of beans. That's it! The killer is hiding in the old abandoned bean warehouse, just outside of town!" And, of course, he is.
12. "Book him, Danno. Murder one." He didn't always say this as the last line of an episode of Hawaii Five-O. It just seemed that way.

Apart from #10, I grew tired of seeing some sequencing of these scenes in every episode. If you think I'm oversimplifying, they run the show every morning on the WGN Superstation. Watch and see. Aloha!

Right again!

I'm not watching.

I predict that every year and so far, I've never been wrong.