THE FEAR OF BEING IN THE "CURLY POSITION."

The THREE STOOGES, acting as detectives are searching for clues in a haunted house.  Suddenly, Moe is confronted by a man-eating gorilla and thrusts Larry towards the beast...before fleeing.  Larry sees the homicidal ape, grabs Curly, pushes him into harms way and scampers off.  When Curly is nose-to-nose with certain death, he turns to throw the next stooge under the bus...except there's nobody there.  Curly must now take a stand.  Of course he's as undependable as his buddies so he runs away too.  It wouldn't be much in the way of slapstick had he stood his ground.  If Curly had that would be the essence of responsibility...standing up, regardless how frightened you are to be singularly accountable.

WHETHER IT WAS A GORILLA, THE WOLF MAN,  DRACULA OR ANY GARDEN VARIETY MENACE, CURLY WAS ALWAYS LEFT TO FACE THE MUSIC BUT HE "AM-SCRAYED" JUST LIKE MOE AND LARRY.

It's a challenge to be put in the "Curly" position.  President Harry Truman used to say, "The buck stops here."  That meant while most people don't relish making tough decisions or being alone in scary/difficult situations...he was dedicated to his office and that the American public could rely on him.

HARRY TRUMAN (1884-1972) WAS OUR 33rd PRESIDENT,  (1945-1953).  A FEW MONTHS INTO HIS TERM, HE HAD TO MAKE ONE OF THE MOST CONTROVERSIAL DECISIONS OF ALL-TIME...TO DROP THE FIRST NUCLEAR BOMB ON HIROSHIMA.

I was always more of a Curly than a Truman but when I owned a dealer training school from 1986-1990, it seemed like I was frequently left in the lurch...to single-handedly face a metaphoric killer gorilla.

My school was located on a bustling city avenue. On our side, there was a church, radio station, health food shop, liquor store and a mom and pop convenience store.  Across the way, there was a firehouse, funeral home, an auto glass center and beauty parlor.  Plus, four eateries could be seen from our front door.

In the early stages of getting this enterprise off the ground, I had difficulty coping with the pressure of getting the entity licensed.  Oddly, the requirements were the same as if it were an actual casino. I had invested my life savings so every delay and added cost that held up opening, added to my anxiety.  I was so choked by the fear of failure that to cushion the burden of uncertainty, I found a safe haven at the liquor store or the Italian restaurant's bar. Luckily, I fought off the drinking demons when the school finally opened.

After the grand opening, the school was also susceptible to spot checks by gaming enforcement agents, (state police). These impromptu drop-ins usually concerned internal auditing or record keeping regarding student attendance. But on one occasion, they wanted to see the procedure for safely locking up our valueless practice chips. My heart jumped into my throat when the first key wouldn't lock a blackjack table's chip rack.  The inspectors weren't heartless, they said they'd come back after lunch. 

In a panic, I ran across to the firehouse.  A ghastly looking fireman with an eyepatch saw my desperation and joked, "I'll lend you an ax."  When Mr. Cyclops saw the shock in my face, he smiled, brushed away some cobwebs and handed me a can of WD-40.

WD-40 WAS INVENTED IN 1953 AND BECAME AVAILABLE TO THE PUBLIC IN 1958.  IT WAS DESIGNED TO PREVENT CORROSION IN METAL AND TO REPEL WATER.  LATER IT WAS FOUND TO HAVE PRACTICAL HOUSEHOLD USES...LIKE UNFREEZING, RUSTED CASINO CHIP TRAY LOCKS.  WHEN I RETURNED THE CAN TO THE FIREMAN, I SAID HE RESCUED ME AND THAT I'D  DO A TV COMMERCIAL FOR WD-40...FOR FREE.

By the spring of 1987, the school's enrollment and staff gravitated to the tiny, corner convenience store on their breaks.  The Indian couple that owned it, (Wolf's Market), were friendly and appreciated the new influx of business our student body provided. 

One day, a student, (he was twenty years older than me) sadly approached me
and whined, "Meestah Stu, Meestah Stu."  I said, "Asmat, this is an inform place.  You don't have to call me mister...and my name is Steve...not Stu."  He said, "Okay Meestah Stu."  (I didn't correct him the second time).  He continued, "I bought orange juice at the store with a ten dollar bill.  When I returned here, I realized that the woman gave me change for a five.  She denied her mistake and hollered at me to get out!"

Again, I was low-man on the totem pole.  I knew there was no upside for me but I had to step-up and solve the problem.  I was filled with negativity because the store owner's wife was far less approachable than the husband.  Reluctantly, I put on a necklace of garlic cloves and headed over there. 

The rigid hag looked like Stella Lugosi.  I tried to look away but my eyes were riveted on the wart at the end of her nose and the mole on her cheek, (with coarse, cable wire hairs blooming out of it). Then, acting as Asmat's advocate, (without accusing her of short-changing him), I explained his side of the story.  I politely concluded with, "At the end of the day, double check your receipts.  Then IF there was an overage, please refund the five dollars." 

I realized she was all tricks and no treats when she started yelling at me in a combination of Hindi and bad English.  First, she showed me that her cash register didn't generate receipts.  Then white gauze formed at both corners of this female werewolf's mouth as she howled, "I can't believe you would side with a (expletive deleted) Pakistani."  She tore a five-dollar bill in half, balled it up and threw it at me.  When I looked at her like she was crazy, she started yammering, (I guessed from her tone that they were profanities in her language).  Finally, this queen of mean spit on the floor and ordered me out.

Thirty minites later, like a mad scientist, together with my Igor-like secretary, we angrily designed an Edgar Allan Poe themed boycott poster targeting the corner store. 

OUR BOYCOTT POSTER INCLUDED A PHOTO LIKE THIS.  WE WERE TRYING TO INCORPORATE THE PHRASE, "NEVER MORE" WHEN WERE INTERRUPTED.

That's when the store's diplomatic owner came in waving a new, truce-like five dollar bill.  I pointed out Asmat and the two shook hands.  I was glad my mediation succeeded in defusing a potential international incident while cementing my alliance with the Wolf Market, (my case is proven by the wife's brother, a nephew and the store owner himself eventually becoming my students).

Being in the Curly position sometimes is just a matter of facing the daily responsibilities of owning a business; like using my apartment's kitchen trashcan as a scoop, to dig my car out of twenty inches of snow, just to drive into town, borrow a shovel from the health food store to clear the school's sidewalk.  I must have looked like a shivering Yeti when I came in to answer phoned-in "snow-day" questions.  Later in this horror plagued day, I was pissed-off enough to use a chainsaw on the moron who accused me of being unprofessional for wearing jeans.

These uncomfortable situations aren't a matter of life and death but believe me, when you receive a report that some devil has vomited in the sink, your first reaction is to turn around and see who you can delegate the nasty task to.  It's frightening to be in the Curly position and find out there's nobody behind you.

Other times, you are faced with a snap judgement.  For instance, the school had a men's room and a separate ladies room.  These facilities consisted of a single toilet, a sink and nothing more.  So when I witnessed two male students come out of the men's room seconds apart, I knew something was amiss.  Inside the restroom, the air was so saturated with the distinct stink of harsh marijuana that it smelled like a mummy's crypt.  The last thing I wanted to do was confront these guys and run the risk of reprisals.  But I generated, "a zero tolerance policy for illegal drugs and alcohol," so without backup, I was compelled to dismiss both of them.

Occasionally, Mother Nature threatens your livelihood with something far more horrifying than the temporary inconvenience of a blizzard. The school building was attached to a radio station...and we were tenants of the same landlord.  One day there was a surprise visit from an exterminator after the station manager discovered sagging floor boards.

The bug buster said, "I have bad news."   "Really," I said, "what did you find in the dungeon, a walking skull, tarantulas and thirteen black cats?"  He said, "No, just a termite infestation." Nothing was more disgusting to see than a sea of undulating maggot-like creatures feasting on the floor panels and joists.  By the time the workmen ripped and tore out the floor, twenty percent of the space had been damaged by the wood-eating invaders...but the whole floor and support system had to be replaced.

The school had to answer to the state gaming commission so we COULD NOT close our doors during advertised class hours without being heavily fined.  This complication forced negotiations with the evil landlord and the blood-sucking contractor, to continuously work around the clock from 11:PM Thursday until 9:AM Monday to avoid any down time. 

Forget about ulcers, after one delay led to another...causing arguments and work stoppages, I felt as if the black magic of Voodoo was giving me a heart attack.  By the time I wiggled out of the termite fiasco and the doors opened on time for business on Monday, my skin was still crawling and I looked like a zombie. Maybe being in the Curly position was a matter of life and death.

Shortly there after, I got a visit from a toothless, homeless person with a Jack-O-Lantern grin and his witchy, skinny as a skeleton companion.  The strangers informed me that their friend PT, a former student of mine, had been killed and they wanted me to come to the cemetery and attend the burial...less than an hour later.  I tried to explain that I had to oversee the daily operation of the school...but they thought I was an insensitive jerk.

PT'S LIFE WENT HAYWIRE AFTER HE LOST HIS CASINO JOB. HE WAS APPARENTLY SLEEPING "ONE OFF" IN AN OPEN FIELD SOMEWHERE ALONG THE ATLANTIC CITY EXPRESSWAY WHEN HE WAS MANGLED TO DEATH BY AN OVER-SIZED INDUSTRIAL LAWN MOWER.

In the true spirit of Halloween, the scariest position I was left alone to face did not involve a monster.  Instead, it involved a pretty, blond, twenty-four year old student.  Ursula had a truancy problem which forced me to call her home several times.  I never spoke with her but Ursula's mother finally confided in me that her daughter had an extremely rare blood disorder.  During a later call, her mom doubted that Ursula would return to class in the near future.

A month later, I was informed that Ursula had passed away.  Her mom encouraged me to attend the wake which was going to be held directly across the street from the school...I did not refuse.

I stayed at the school late that night and busied myself so intently on paperwork that I lost track of the time.  Even though the gathering was over, I hustled across the street and went into the eerie, dark and empty chapel.  I passed rows of empty chairs as I advanced towards a hall that led to a dim light.  I was hoping that Ursula's mom might still be there.  If not, I wanted to sign the register and ask a representative of the mortuary to send along my condolences. At the door, I glanced to the left and saw through the diffused light, Ursula in the open coffin.  I was so spooked that the few hairs I still had...stood on end.  Childishly, as if hobgoblins, Frankenstein and ghosts were chasing me, I zoomed like a bat out of hell and went home.

I told you I was more of a Curly than Truman.  So if you are ever behind me in a Three Stooges episode, (on an expedition to find the Phantom from Forty Fathoms, in the piranha invested Amazon), be aware that if Moe pushes aside some branches and they smack me in the face...I'll be doing the same thing to you...even if your name isn't Curly.

GOING NUTS FOR FRITZ LANG

My friend BR (75) retired two years ago.  He attended my casino school in 1986.  Later as coworkers, we developed a friendship from 1990-2010.  On mutual breaks, he riveted me with his Liverpudlian (English) accent as he shared lurid descriptions of being five years-old, hustling to bomb shelters and surviving the German blitzkrieg.

THE "BATTLE OF BRITAIN" WAS A FOUR-MONTH GERMAN BOMBING CAMPAIGN FROM JULY TO OCTOBER 1940.  DESIGNED TO ESTABLISH AIR SUPERIORITY, KNOCK OUT STRATEGIC GROUND INSTALLATIONS AND INFRASTRUCTURE, IT WAS THE LARGEST AERIEL BOMBING TO DATE.  SECOND TO LONDON, LIVERPOOL SUSTAINED THE HEAVIEST DAMAGE AND LOST THE SECOND MOST LIVES.  DESPITE THESE CRIPPLING STATISTICS, THE BRITS SUCCESSFULLY DEFENDED THEIR AIR SPACE.

In explaining his scary plight, BR's tired eyes would brighten every time he used the term "maddening" to illustrate the sirens, controlled panic and inconsistent pattern of those explosions, as well as the claustrophobic sense that the ceiling might collapse.  "Even worse," he said, "when you seemed certain that that ration of terror was finally over...a minute later, the process would start again."

Americans commonly accept "mad" to mean angry or frustrated (which is somewhat accurate) but its true definition points to insane or insanity. So BR might have been angry but in reality the bombing was driving him crazy.

THE COVER OF MAD MAGAZINE'S FIRST ISSUE (OCTOBER 1952) CLEARLY INDICATES THAT THEY AREN'T TRYING TO ANGER ANYONE.  MAD STARTED AS A COMIC BOOK BUT BY ITS 24th ISSUE (1955),  IT SWITCHED FORMATS TO A SATIRICAL MAGAZINE.  STILL POPULAR TODAY, MAD HIT ITS HEIGHT WITH A READERSHIP OVER TWO MILLION, IN THE 1970's.

BR has now moved back to the U. K.  He's content to live out his golden years wagering on the ponies at his neighbourhood betting parlour or chatting it up at the corner pub.  I'm not ready for his version of an idyllic lifestyle but his maddening past just came to my mind.

In late August 2011, Hurricane Irene hit this area.  The rustling of the trees woke me up at 5:AM.  I was so nervous that I imagined tree trunks smashing into my house.  Therefore, falling back asleep was out of the question.  I tip-toed downstairs to avoid disturbing my family and decided to face my demons.

I took a cup of coffee and the previous day's newspaper into my Florida room.  Although branches occasionally crashed into the thin roof, the overall experience was surprisingly calming. Such was not the case yesterday, (a warm, sunny and breezy afternoon).

It's probably not fair to my backyard woodland creatures to compare their antics with the Nazi bombing of England...but they do.

SEPTEMBER 5, 2010, THE "KRISPIES" ROCK THE DECK IN MY BACKYARD.  PLEASE NOTE THAT THERE AREN'T ANY LEAVES, ACORNS OR PINE CONES AT THEIR FEET.  ALSO, (far left) THAT'S MY FLORIDA ROOM.

The task of regularly sweeping my deck starts in August and continues until all the trees are barren.  The height of this annoyance is underway now which means twice-a-week, hour-long missions to clear the debris.

Yesterday, armed with a trashcan, broom and dustpan, I toiled as more shit foliage rained down.

If you are an insecure person...and who amongst us doesn't have their moments...you'd swear that the acorns flying out of the trees are being aimed at you.  When you round-up the usual suspects, chipmunks and squirrels are the most likely perpetrators.

I WAS PICTURING DISNEY'S "CHIP 'N' DALE" AS MY TROUBLE MAKING CHIPMUNKS. FROM 1943-1956, THEY APPEARED IN 23 CARTOONS, MOSTLY AS A THORN IN PLUTO OR DONALD DUCK'S SIDE, (ONLY THREE TIMES, THEY WERE THE MAIN CHARACTERS).  CHIP (left) WAS THE BRAINS OF THE OUTFIT...YOU COULD TELL THESE ANIMATED VERMIN APART BECAUSE DALE'S TEETH WERE APART, HE HAD A BIGGER NOSE AND A PATCH OF LIGHTER HAIR.

This time of year, the acorn bombardment never ends...it's happening now!  That means, seconds after clearing a section of my deck, the next generation of falling pine needles, leaves and pine cones ruin my work.  Deep down, I really want to believe that the wind and change of season were the only culprits but when you hear the crack of the acorns pelting the deck, your instinct is to look up and imagine that laughing squirrels are conspiring against you.

"ROCKY THE FLYING SQUIRREL" WOULD NEVER DO SUCH A THING BUT "SCREWY SQUIRREL" WOULD.  HIS ORIGINAL CAREER LASTED ONLY FIVE EPISODES, (1944-1946).  THIS WAS DUE IN PART BECAUSE HE WAS SO WACKY, BRASH AND ERRATIC THAT RATHER THAN SYMPATHIZING WITH HIM, AUDIENCES WERE ANNOYED. SO MGM DISCONTINUED HIM AND HIS CACKLING LAUGH.  SCREWY'S LAST APPEARANCE PARODIED STEINBECK'S, "OF MICE AND MEN."  IN IT, HE IS CRUSHED TO DEATH BY THE LENNY CHARACTER WHO SAYS, "I USED TO HAVE A LITTLE FRIEND, BUT HE DON'T MOVE NO MORE."

It doesn't really matter whether Mother Nature or a dastardly squirrel is to blame, the fear (expectation) of getting hit on the head by one of these speeding projectiles is tortuous.  Like BR said, it becomes maddening because I was pre-occupied, worrying when an acorn was going to ping my head. I was proven right when BOOM, like a bullet, one stung my shoulder.  Then a machine gun-like cluster, RAT-TAT-TAT whizzed past my face.  I couldn't take any more chances, I went inside and got a hat to cushion any blows.  The simple chore of sweeping-up had become like Chinese water torture.

(1860 PHOTO , IN SING SING PRISON)  THE PROCESS OF SLOWLY DRIPPING WATER ONTO THE SAME SPOT ON THE FOREHEAD, ALLEGEDLY DRIVES A VICTIM INSANE.  IT IS BELIEVED THAT THE "CHINESE" CONNOTATION WAS ADDED DUE TO THE INFLUENCE OF SAX ROHMER'S, "FU MANCHU" NOVELS OF THE 1930's.

The insanity theme continued for me last night in the form of a 1933 movie, "THE TESTAMENT OF DR. MABUSE." If you have the patience to sit through this German-made (with English subtitles) four-star classic for over two hours, you will be well rewarded. 

The title character originated in Norbert Jacques' 1921 novel,  "THE COLONY OF DR. MABUSE." Some consider the diabolical doctor to be the first-ever super-villain.  Interwoven into Jacques' commercially successful tapestry of terror, the author included some barbed political commentary.

A year later, famed movie director Fritz Lang and his wife wrote a smash (silent) screenplay, "DR. MABUSE THE GAMBLER."  A decade later, the Langs wrote "Testament" and included their own contemporary political commentary...which wasn't as transparent as it needed to be.  Most movie buffs aren't familiar with this masterpiece because it was thought to be lost...only recently has it been restored.

THE ORIGINAL 1933, GERMAN LOBBY POSTER.

The 1933 sequel is consistent with the original because Dr. Mabuse has been committed to a prolonged stay at an insane asylum.  After years of silence, the doctor's "testament" starts out as incoherent ramblings until his doctor (Dr. Baum), is able to decipher them.

ACTOR RUDOLPH KLEIN-ROGGE (on the bed) PLAYED THE PATIENT (MABUSE) IN BOTH THE 1922 SILENT MOVIE AND THE TALKIE.  OSCAR BEREGI SR., (left),  IS DR. BAUM.

Fritz Lang was influenced by Freud and Nietzsche.  His style of movie making is atypical by what today's audiences are used to but his greatness inspired more familiar directors like, Hitchcock, Welles and Kubrick.

(PHOTO FROM 1950's)  COMPLETE WITH HIS SIGNATURE MONOCLE, FRIEDRICH CHRISTIAN ANTON "FRITZ" LANG (1890-1976) WAS AN AUSTRIAN-AMERICAN FILMMAKER, SCREENWRITER AND MOVIE PRODUCER.  A PRECURSOR TO THE FILM NOIR GENRE, HE WAS CALLED, "THE MASTER OF DARKNESS," DUE TO HIS SUCCESS WITH "METROPOLIS" IN 1927 AND "M" IN 1931.

In "Testament," Lang planted many Nazi phrases and slogans into Mabuse's dialog. So much so that three months into Hitler's regime, this movie was banned due to its power to incite public disorder, (and would not be shown in Germany until 1951).  Lang found this out when he was called to the office of newly installed propaganda minister, Joseph Goebbels.  Although the film couldn't be shown, the quality of Lang's work resulted in an offer to make pro-Nazi films.  Lang told the good minister, "I'll think about it."

Lang was raised as a Catholic but under the Nuremberg Laws, (Lang's mother was Jewish), he would eventually be identified as a Jew.  He envisioned enough of what was to come under Hitler and fled to France, (unaccompanied by his pro-Nazi wife).

I won't spoil this perfect Halloween movie for you.  But I will say that it is a crime thriller combined with clever, hypnotic para-normal activities and some eerie, cutting edge, (for its time), special effects.  So, take the time to absorb Lang's genius as he metaphorically predicts the Nazi's direction and for having transferred their manifesto into a mental patient. The only way I could have been more impressed would have been if the movie had "nuts" cascading off the trees and knocking Mabuse into his undesirable condition.

Now, I look at my backyard deck and it's covered again with leaves, pine cones and acorns.  So to soothe my potential for madness, I will continue to encourage my dog to chase the Fascist squirrels.  I really hope she scares the fecal nuggets out of them all...except Rocky, he gets a good conduct pass.

If BR ever breaks away from his pub long enough to read this, he'll think I've,"gone around the bend," (Brit-Speak for bonkers), for comparing the German blitz with my acorn-driven, backyard Oktober Fest.

OPEN WIDE FOR CHUNKY

When Pat Clark, DRJ and I worked in the kitchen of a summer camp in Connecticut, (1971), someone in our crew figured out how to bypass the padlock on the baker's closet with a spatula.  The result was all of us pigging out on huge chunks of chocolate, earmarked for pastries.  An hour after that huge chunk went bite by bite into my mouth, this over-indulgence spewed out in much smaller, chunky projectiles.  In the aftermath, I felt the way you feel when you're hung-over and I swore to never eat chocolate again.  It sounded good at the time but chocolate was my number-one comfort food and at sixteen, there was no way that pledge was going to last.

It sucks getting old! 

It's bad enough that aches and pains take forever to heal but every few weeks, new nagging problems creep up.  So in addition to everything else I have to put up with, in my late-forties, due to my highly advanced maturity and bodily sensitivity, a chain reaction deep in my innards led to health concerns and ultimately, the dread of dietary restrictions.  That dagger in my heart resulted in my very, very best buddy...chocolate, being scratched off my A-List.

In my pre-school years, my earliest memory of loving chocolate was pudding.  It was a delicious dessert but the real prize was watching mom make it and her letting me lick the spoon.  Chocolate and I have been tight ever since.  So ten years ago, I didn't take kindly to the first of many chocolate-related set-backs...my break-up with Hagen Daz, Chocolate-Chocolate Chip ice cream, (chocolate syrup optional but deeply appreciated). Since that split, my emotional and physical wounds have not healed...and probably never will.

Two weeks ago, my scars of chocolate deprivation opened up again, at the supermarket.  The trigger mechanism combined being hungry and seeing all the Halloween candy advertisements.  Soon, in the perceived safety of the toilet cleanser section, an intense chocolaty craving came over me. I excused myself from my wife and wandered over to see an old friend, the cookie aisle.  My mouth-watering stroll down memory lane was highlighted by Chips Ahoy, chocolate covered graham crackers and chocolate peanut butter wafers.

In my sugar deficient trance, I must have looked confused as I grazed towards a store employee stocking Pepperidge Farm Milanos.  This little man, in his woolen cap reminded me of Ernie, (The Keebler Elf) from the TV commercials.  He looked up and asked if I needed help.

ELFIN ERNIE WAS LIKE A DRUG PUSHER.  FOR SOMEONE IN MY POSITION, HIS SHELVES OF FUDGE GLAZED GOODIES WERE LIKE HEROIN. 

When I didn't speak, Ernie repeated himself.  I came out of my hypnotic stupor and said, "No.  Sorry. I'm just torturing myself over the things I can't have."  He smiled, "What do you mean?" I said, "I'm a reformed milk and cookies man. Now I'm on the Atkins diet...plus chocolate gives me severe headaches."  He said, "That's tough."  I said, "Yeah.  Back in the day, a whole box of chocolate, Nila Wafers was one portion for me."  He said, "I don't remember them coming in chocolate."  I said, "Yeah for a while they made chocolate Twinkies too but when something isn't popular enough...they stop making them."  He was nodding as I added,  "I'm not saying I needed a gun to my head to eat the regular Nila Wafers or Vienna Fingers or Animal Crackers...I just rather have chocolate.  "Oh yeah, what was your favorite?"  "Definitely, Oreos."  Ernie said, "You know, they now have fudge covered Oreos..."  I cut him off, "Dude, don't remind me.  They should call those babies, 'Death By Chocolate.'  I remember the guy who turned me on them (ZYMBOT).  He and I could polish off the whole package before our first sip of milk (preferably chocolate)."

Later that night at work, I confided this supermarket experience with my friend, C.  She called chocolate her BFF.  She even joked about going to Hershey Pennsylvania with her husband every year even without their adult kids.  C said, "You know why they call it the sweetest place on earth?  Because the Hershey factory pumps the smell of cocoa across the whole town...and I love it  Plus after the zoo and amusement park, they have the world's biggest gift shop."

"THE MARKET PLACE SHOPS AT HERSHEY'S CHOCOLATE WORLD," IS SO ENORMOUS THAT NO SINGLE  PHOTO COULD DO IT JUSTICE.  LOCATED OUTSIDE (ADJACENT TO), HERSHEY PARK, YOU ARE WELCOMED IN BY AN AMUSEMENT PARK-LIKE RIDE THAT EXPLAINS (PROPAGANDIZES) THE COMPANY'S HISTORY.  AFTER , YOU ARE REWARDED WITH A FREE SAMPLE WHILE SIMULTANEOUSLY BEING THRUST INTO THE GIFT SHOP.  EVERYTHING HERSHEY IS FOR SALE; CHOCOLATE, OTHER CANDIES, CLOTHES, TOYS, CUPS,  DISHES,  BAKING PRODUCTS AND DECORATIONS.  THERE IS EVEN A FOOD COURT, PHOTO STUDIO, SHOE STORE AND SO MUCH MORE.

C added, "I've gone so many times, I know all the Hershey trivia answers.  Like the company was established in 1894 and the Kit-Kat Bar is named after founder Milton Hershey's wife, Catherine, (Kitty)."  I smiled as she added, "Did you know it takes 320 Hershey's Kisses to equal ten pounds and the big seller in Canada, (not available in USA),  is called a Glosette, (chocolate covered raisins and almonds)."

IN 1963, MY FAMILY TOURED THE HERSHEY FACTORY.  MY CLEAREST MEMORY WAS GOING DOWN A TALL ESCALATOR THAT WAS PARALLEL TO A DOWNWARD CONVEYOR BELT CARRYING HERSHEY KISSES.  ON THE GROUND, THE GUIDE ENDED THE TOUR BY DETACHING THE CROWD CONTROL ROPE AND ENCOURAGING US KIDS TO SCAVENGE FOR THE KISSES THAT FELL ON THE FLOOR.  YOU DON'T HAVE TO BE EINSTEIN TO SEE THAT MASTER CHOCOLATIER AND CONFECTIONER MILTON HERSHEY INSPIRED WILLY WONKA, THE GOLDEN TICKET, CHARLIE BUCKET AND OF COURSE, THE OOMPA LOOMPAS.

When C described the Glosette I said, "Sounds like a Chunky Bar!  Do they still make them, I used to live on those but I haven't seen one, in a million years.


ENTICING IN ITS SILVER WRAPPER AND UNIQUE SHAPE, (A TRUNCATED PYRAMID), CHUNKY WAS DEVELOPED IN THE 1930's.  THIS DELECTABLE NOW OWNED BY NESTLE CONTAINS; BRAZIL NUTS, CASHEWS AND RAISINS, COVERED IN CHOCOLATE.

I remember two of their slogans, "Chunky, what a chunk of chocolate" and "Open wide for Chunky."  I also recall each piece being solid, (as opposed to the four segments, pictured above).  Either way, I loved them so much as a kid that if I ate a mere fraction of them today, I'd be sent into a Chunky induced coma.

My conversation with C spurred an unsuccessful search of supermarkets, convenience stores, vending machines and candy counters.  In a way, I was relieved because this failure to find Chunky bars supported my sagging self-control.  So on the brighter side, I maintained that sexy figure that everyone is talking about.

ON OUR NORWEGIAN DAWN CRUISE, THEY HAD A MIDNIGHT CHOCOLATE BUFFET.  EVERY POSSIBLE DELIGHT PACKED THE LENGTHY FOOD LINES.  THE OVERWHELMING SMELL AND THE SIGHT OF THE DECADENT, MISDIRECTED HOARDERS PILING-UP THEIR TRAYS, (THE WASTE WAS INCREDIBLE) NAUSEATED ME. ENOUGH SO, THAT I DIDN'T PARTAKE IN THE FOLLY. MY PRUDENCE PAID OFF WHEN WE WENT TO THE BEACH IN BERMUDA BECAUSE ALL THE GIRLS GATHERED AROUND ME...BECAUSE THEY WANTED TO BE IN THE SHADE...(OOPS, THAT WEEK I DID STUFF MY PIE-HOLE WITH WAY TOO MUCH REAL FOOD).

If you are fascinated by Chunky, click on the thirty second youtube video below, to see their 1959 TV commercial that swayed me over and over and over again.

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

This past weekend, a Chunky bar was the farthest thing from my mind when I attended a kiddie party hosted by my friend, Larry "The Human ATM."  Larry nicknamed himself because he claims to be a medical anomaly in that he has the first case of Carpal Tunnel Syndrome...of the elbow.  He says it comes from repeatedly handing-out so many twenties to his three materialistic daughters, (15, 11 and 6) and hundred dollar bills to his wife.

LARRY THOUGHT HE COULD CURE HIS SWOLLEN AND NUMB RIGHT ELBOW BY DOLING OUT THE CASH WITH HIS LEFT HAND...NOW HE HAS CARPAL TUNNEL IN BOTH ELBOWS.

Larry's propensity for over-spending was proven right again.  The extravagant entertainment for his youngest girl's party included a clown, magician and pony rides.  Plus, they hired a bartender and there was so much food that the caterer provided two servers.

I stayed loyal to Dr. Atkins until I was intoxicated by the aroma of  baked ziti.  I managed to preserve my waistline by limiting myself to a single, small portion.  But my teetering will power wouldn't last long there, I had to leave the area.

On the other side of house, a bunch of men were watching golf on the 83-inch flat screen.  I handled the boredom as long as I could and turned away after six seconds.  As I pirouetted to leave, I noticed a pretty lilac and magenta basket, over-flowing with chocolates.  The sugar rush from the pasta was coursing through my veins as I took a giant step closer to the luscious temptation.

Inside the basket, the Human ATM lived up to his reputation by supplying the masses with an abundance of full-sized chocolate bars with a photo of Kaylie, (his birthday girl) on them as well as gourmet chockies.  Cautiously, I snuck up for a better look.  Like a work of art, the bottom of the basket was filled with individually wrapped, gumball-sized Lindts chocolates.  WARNING - WARNING - ALERT - WARNING !  I had never tried Lindt chocolates!

LINDT (SINCE 1845) IS A LUXURY SWISS CHOCOLATE COMPANY.  THEIR CATCH PHRASE IS, "HEAVEN DOES EXIST."  ONE OF THEIR SPECIALTIES (above) IS CALLED LINDOR...THESE TRUFFLE BALLS HAVE 18 DIFFERENT, COLOR-CODED WRAPPERS, (RED IS MILK CHOCOLATE AND THE BLUE IS DARK).

I must have a brain the size of a pea or another new symptom of my old age is, short term memory loss.  So the idea of getting an intense headache never entered my mind as my chocolate addiction took over.  Lindt immediately became my new favorite and of course, that one piece, led to eight, (hell, they are awfully small).  Then while poking a little deeper in the basket, my true discovery was made under a Cadbury bar. The gold I struck was in the form of a small, wafer-thin, Ghiradelli square.

I knew this was a top of the line chocolate.  Even though I didn't have my glasses and couldn't read the flavor off the label. I took a leap of faith...after all, isn't life like a box of chocolates.  Well to my happy surprise, I hit the jackpot.  The mystery candy tasted like was a miniature Chunky...only better than I imagined.  I dug and dug for more but there wasn't any.

WHAT AN IDIOT I WAS.  I THREW AWAY THE WRAPPER AND NOW, EVEN WITH THE HELP OF THE INTERNET, I CAN'T FIGURE OUT WHAT GHIRADELLI CALLED THEIR CHUNKY, ON FLAVOR STEROIDS.

At work, I told C how I ruined my diet and gave myself the grand-daddy of migraines during my romp with Ghiradelli.  She sympathized with me and said, "I'm partial to Godiva chocolates but Ghiradelli's are real good too. We even took their factory tour in San Francisco."  Then her smile blossomed as she continued, "But now that I know they make something similar to Chunky, I have to give them another chance."

I was beginning to think that Chunky's were the holy grail of candy.  After all, Chocolate Twinkies and Chocolate Nila Wafers had gone extinct so figured that the Chunky had gone by the wayside too.

But quite innocently, the other day in the pharmacy, sandwiched between York Peppermint Patties and Three Musketeer bars, I accidentally spotted a Chunky display.  I guess they aren't that rare.  So if you really are a connoisseur of fine chocolates then I encourage you to keep looking because later that day in a different convenience store, I saw them again. 

More importantly, in both cases, I stood true to myself and didn't try one (which would have led me down the evil path...to many).  And nobody and I do mean nobody (especially me) wants to see the debacle of me, open wide and blow chunks of Chunky.

UNDER THE BIG "W."

I hope HJ remembers this...but one day when we were little kids, our group of friends gave ourselves fake names. 

I was inspired by my perception of friendship, adventure and romance, and dubbed myself... Jackie.  The reason was simple, child-actor Jackie Cooper was my first celebrity idol. 

In him, I saw cool leadership qualities and a stable of friends from the "OUR GANG," comedies.  How incredible it seemed to me, to lead a "little rascals" lifestyle...full of exciting hi-jinx. 

Cooper was most memorable in three short features from 1930, "SCHOOL'S OUT," "LOVE BUSINESS" and "TEACHER'S PET." I favored them because June Marlowe played his teacher, Miss Crabtree...and trust me, the hag-like meanies in my elementary school, acted and looked nothing like her.  I still occasionally greet my friends with a Jackie Cooper influenced, "Hey-y-y-y Crabby."

SPANKY AND ALFALFA, COULDN'T COMPARE WITH THE EVER-FLIRTATIOUS COOPER.  EVEN IN MY PRE-PUBESCENCE, I WAS JEALOUS THAN HE WAS IN A POSITION FOR A PERCEIVED TRIP TO COUGARTOWN WITH MISS CRABTREE (far right).  NORMAN( a.k.a. CHUBSIE UBSIE far left), THOUGHT HE HAD A SHOT TOO...BUT WE ALL KNEW, JACKIE WAS MY ONLY COMPETITION.

Jackie Cooper's other big contribution to my childhood fantasies came from his heroic role as Jim Hawkins opposite Wallace Beery's, Long John Silver, in the 1934 movie, "TREASURE ISLAND."

THIS ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON CLASSIC WAS THE WHOLE ENCHILADA.  WHAT COULD BE BETTER THAN A KID MY AGE CONSORTING WITH PIRATES, SAILING THE HIGH SEAS AND A TREASURE HUNT. 

The idea of calling myself Jackie evaporated almost immediately but my appreciation for Cooper and those specific memories have lasted a lifetime.  So in 2002, at a parents pow-wow during one of my son Andrew's Cub Scout meetings, I made the knee-jerk suggestion of a scavenger hunt.  To my surprise, the others loved the idea and in unison put me in charge of making it happen.

Oops, I painted myself into a corner and got called on my "never" volunteer for anything mentality.  Our eight-scout pack was relying on me to put something together for the year-end picnic.  This huge event that encouraged friendly competition with other nearby Cub Scout packs would involve a couple of hundred kids...with each pack trying to outdo each other with a contribution to the festivities.

Over the next few weeks, my plan evolved into a scheme that was not only simple (easy to produce), elegant in its execution but exciting to the participants and the bigwigs.

The key factor in my success was that the picnic was held in Estell Manor Park...which for me was like a home game because I knew the layout well.

A HALF HOUR FROM HOME, ANDREW AND I HIKED THE MYRIAD OF TRAILS SINCE HE WAS THREE.  THE PARK ADMINISTRATION CENTER PROVIDED NATURE CLASSES, CRAFTS AND A MENAGERIE.  OUTSIDE, WE RODE BIKES, USED THE PLAYGROUND AND PLAYED BALL.  BEYOND THE MILITARY CEMETERY, THERE ARE TONS OF PLACES, LIKE THE LAKEFRONT AND THE RUINS FROM THE (above) BOTTLE FACTORY (1825-1877), TO HAVE A RELAXING LUNCH.

For the scout's scavenger hunt, I chose a large, isolated corridor set between a pond and a reedy marsh.  I enlisted the help of the art teacher at my son's school and had similar stones painted, red, white and blue...plus a gold one.

On the big day, while the scouts were involved in other activities, I planted the stones and five other types of artifacts.  These items were assigned point values...with the single golden rock being most valuable.  However, the wild card was...the most unusual item not included in the list would have an even higher value(I gave the honor of deciding that winner to the scout master...which turned out to be a small, deer bone).

In retrospect, I wish my scavenger hunt could have included a homage to the 1963 movie, "IT'S A MAD, MAD, MAD, MAD WORLD." 

"THE BIGGEST ENTERTAINMENT EVER TO ROCK THE SCREEN WITH LAUGHTER!" WAS EMBLAZONED ON THE MOVIE'S PROMOTIONAL POSTERS.  ALTHOUGH IT WAS INCLUDED IN 2000 AS AFI's #40 COMEDY ALL-TIME, IT DOES TEND TO GET RATHER TEDIOUS.

The theme of this zany movie was; adults acting like children.  More importantly, it combined all the principals that Jackie Cooper represented, (friendship, adventure, romance and of course a treasure hunt). So it would have been fitting for me to have buried the scavenger hunt's gold rock under my own big "W."

THE OPENING SCENE STARTS WITH A CAR ACCIDENT IN THE MOJAVE DESERT.  THEN AN EVER-EXPANDING, ALL-STAR CAST RACE THROUGHOUT SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA FOR $350,000.00 BURIED IN MYTHICAL SANTA ROSITA STATE PARK, UNDER THE (above) BIG "W."

If you're over eight years old, you might find this epic two-star movie overblown.  By my standards, its length is exhausting and some of the performances are overbearing. That means that it is difficult to recommend this film.  However, others swear by it.

My answer to the film's biggest fans is, there are several hilarious moments and some great lines but because they are so spaced apart and not enough of them, seeing the movie in its entirety is overwhelmingly tiresome.

Jimmy Durante has one of the countless cameos in the movie.  In that first scene, after crashing his car and before dying, he "kicks-off" the madcap pursuit by telling five good Samaritan motorists (from four cars) about the fortune buried under the big "W."  Durante's death provides one of my favorite moments, (It is probably the only thing my son Andrew would remember).  Click on the link below to see this thirty-second masterpiece.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h57UR-oIE_g


In addition to the main ensemble players, the producers cleverly injected dozens of Hollywood's finest into bit parts.  Some of the *walk-ons included; Buster Keaton, ZaSu Pitts, Edward Everett Horton, Jack Benny, Don Knotts, Sterling Holloway and Peter Falk. 

The biggest comic actors clambered to be included in this perceived blockbuster.  There are pages of interesting story lines and trivial facts concerning those circumstances.  Also there were tons of big names who was offered roles (Stan Laurel, Judy Garland, Groucho Marx, Bob Hope, Judy Holliday, Don Rickels and Red Skelton) but turned the casting department down.  There is also a list of those that were insulted that they weren't included.

* PLEASE NOTE - The Three Stooges had the shortest cameo...five seconds and Leo Gorcey came out of a decade-long retirement, to make this one last appearance.

In my opinion, the oft edited-out Jerry Lewis cameo was one of the funniest ten-second segments in movie history.  Apparently, Lewis was excluded from the original cast.  When the movie was finished, to appease his wrath, the snippet (below) was produced and injected in.  Then for some odd reason, it seems this gem gets edited-out...and I could find no explanation.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fXD6xZVnClk

The slapstick plot has many layers but the kicker is a corrupt police chief (Spencer Tracy) is scheming to have the hoard of crazies lead him to the big "W" and steal the loot after they dig it up.  The closing chase scene starts in Malibu along the Pacific Coast Highway and ends in Long Beach, (look for real NIXON FOR GOVERNOR signs that twice appear on buildings).

THE BIG "W" SCENES WERE FILMED ON PRIVATE PROPERTY CALLED PORTUGUESE POINT. THE LAST LEG (PHOTO ABOVE WAS TAKEN IN 1991) OF THE FAMOUS LANDMARK DIED AND FELL IN THE EARLY 2000's.   THE FILM LOCATION IS OFF LIMITS, YET MOVIE ENTHUSIASTS FROM ALL OVER THE WORLD SCALE THE NEARBY CLIFFS TO CATCH A GLIMPSE OF IT.

On January 6, 1994, "THE SIMPSON'S," honored the concept of the big "W" by incorporating a big "T" into several episodes.

IN, "HOMER THE VIGILANTE,"  (SEASON 5,  EPISODE 11), THE SIMPSON'S FIRST USE THE IDEA OF TREASURE BURIED UNDER A BIG "T." 

I wonder if Jackie Cooper was offered a part in, "IT'S A MAD, MAD, MAD, MAD WORLD?"  He was still starring in his own TV shows until 1962.  But his on-screen career had diminished, (you may recall, he was the original Andy Hardy, in the 40's) so he drifted into a mostly off-camera career.

I WATCHED TWO, JACKIE COOPER SITCOMS (RERUNS) WHEN I WAS A KID.  IN "THE PEOPLE'S CHOICE," (104 EPISODES 1955-1958), HE PLAYED DILEMMA-FILLED POLITICIAN, SOCRATES "SOCK" MILLER, WHO HAD A BASSET HOUND (CLEO) WHOSE SARCASTIC THOUGHTS, COULD BE HEARD BY THE AUDIENCE.  IN "HENNESEY" HE PLAYED A NAVAL DOCTOR STATIONED IN SAN DIEGO, (32 EPISODES 1959-1962). 

My first celebrity idol, Jackie Cooper resurfaced in the "SUPERMAN" movies, (1978, 1980 and 1983) as Clark Kent's boss, Perry White.  He last appeared in a motion picture called, "SURRENDER," in 1987.

In my youth, Cooper opened my eyes to the boundlessness of imagination and helped give me the curiosity and courage to wonder what was beyond the horizon...and to go find out.  Jackie Cooper came a long way from his first full-length movie, "THE CHAMP," in 1932 and because of his roles and persona, he'll always remain a champ to me.

Hey HJ, do you remember the fake name you chose?

WHY COULDN'T MY UNCLE REDGREEN SLICE AND DICE LIKE RON POPIEL?

To paraphrase my TV Criticism professor, Don Ericson back in 1976, "Forget about any romantic notions that TV entertains and educates. ..no matter how you cut it, in the end, television is nothing but a vehicle for selling!" 

You may recall my Uncle Al (a.k.a. Red Green) was a carnival barker in Los Angeles until he was eighty-five years old, (see my March 7, 2011 blog, "TALKIN' BASEBALL WITH MY DAD, UNCLE REDGREEN AND THE DUKE."  That's why I have always had a place in my heart for spielers, TV pitchmen and supermarket demonstrators. 

THIS SOFT SPOT MUST BE AN INHERITED TRAIT BECAUSE MY SON HAS A DEEP-SEEDED APPRECIATION FOR CONTEMPORARY INFOMERCIAL GIANT, BILLY MAYS.

The first prominent TV pitchman was Ron Popiel.  A disciple of his father, Ron Popiel used his dad's carny background to hawk contraptions on late-night television as early as the mid-1950's.  This visionary invented his own gadgets, originated the infomercial and became his own direct response marketing personality.

"THE SALESMAN OF THE CENTURY," RON POPIEL (NOW 77) USED SUCH CATCHPHRASES AS, "BUT WAIT THERE'S MORE!" AND "SET IT AND FORGET IT!"  TO SELL OVER TWO MILLION VEG-O-MATICS.

Under the company name RONCO, some of his other popular products were; Chop-O-Matic, Popiel Pocket Fisherman, Mr. Microphone, the Inside the Egg Scrambler, the Showtime Rotisserie and Smokeless Ashtray.

Ron Popiel's zany innovations paved the way for competitor products, round the clock infomercials and entire sales oriented cable networks, like QVC.

IN THE LATE 70's AND INTO THE 80's,  I WAS ALWAYS ENTHRALLED BY HIS RIVAL, THE GINSU KNIVES. THEIR COMMERCIAL WAS ENTERTAINING AND MOUTH-WATERING ESPECIALLY WHEN A STEAK KNIFE CUT THROUGH A CAR BATTERY...AND REMAINED SHARP ENOUGH TO SLICE A TOMATO...YUMMY.  AND IF THAT WASN'T ENOUGH, THE FIFTY-YEAR GUARANTEE CERTAINLY WOULD HAVE GOTTEN THE STAUNCHEST NAY-SAYER OFF THE COUCH AND ON THE PHONE WITH THEIR CREDIT CARD IN HAND. 

It's too bad my Uncle Al was such a die-hard Dodgers fan. Because if he would have exerted less energy into baseball maybe his thirty years as a carnival pitchman could have spurred him into carving out his own lucrative niche.  After all, he and Aunt Ann had no children and besides my sister and I, there would have only been one other nephew/niece set to divvy-up the spoils with.  Even better, if he could have put REDGREENCO on the entrepreneurial landscape, perhaps I could have been on TV hoodwinking the public for my own millions...instead of being a poor schnook getting victimized by aerosol sealant, body hair removal systems and imitation Pepsi makers.

WHO WOULDN'T STAND IN LINE TO BUY FAUX, GILDED BUFFALO NICKELS FOR $39.95, FROM A SPOKESPERSON LIKE THIS.  I CAN REALLY HEAR MYSELF SAY, "BUT YOU MUST ACT NOW!  IF YOU'RE ONE OF THE NEXT TWENTY CALLERS, WE'LL DOUBLE YOUR ORDER."

I admit that many telemarketing products are exactly what they say but a great many others make exaggerated claims. This fear of getting taken has overwhelmingly kept me away from paid celebrities like Erik Estrada and Alex Trebek hawking schlock, like dishes from the Franklin Mint, the Thigh Master and Liberian currency commemorating September 11th.  But just because my cynicism is directed at infomercials it doesn't mean I can't be taken in by crap less desirable merchandise featured on mainstream TV commercials.

I have plastic bathtubs.  They seem to be a magnet for soap scum, mold and the residue from (other people's) hair care products.  They're difficult to clean and no cleanser I tried really works.  The alternative is being on all fours with a coarse scrub brush.  Even worse, in the end, you never feel satisfied with the job and you kill your back, shoulders and knees.

I tried several "As Seen On TV," miracle products that promise effortless cleanliness.  In retrospect, there's a reason why these babies are sold in dollar stores.  So I was more ticked-off when I was lured in by a respected company's thirty-dollar item, advertised on regular TV.

The cute Scrubbing Bubbles Automatic Shower Cleaner ad caught me at a weak moment.  I literally ran to the supermarket.

When it comes to cleaning, it’s easy to feel like it’s all up to you. But with the Scrubbing Bubbles® Automatic Shower Cleaner, you’ve got a cleaning partner that takes care of the tough stuff for you. Simply touch the button and walk away—the dual sprayer spins 360 degrees to spray a penetrating cleaner on all four walls and tub. The formula prevents tough stains like mold and mildew and helps remove soap scum, allowing you to wait to clean your shower for up to 30 days! A booster button provides even more shower cleaning power when you need it. And now your Scrubbing Bubbles® Automatic Shower Cleaner starter kit comes with a Fresh Clean formula that keeps your bathroom smelling great for up to 24 hours.


I told my usually supportive wife, "Look what I bought."  Before I took my Scrubbing Bubbles kit out of the box or said how much I spent she laughed in my face, "Automatic?  You believe in magic?  How about Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny?"  I could only grin.  Then she added, "No?  Then you must be on drugs, living in a fantasy world or just plain nuts."  I told her, "It's new."  She shook her head, "Just mail it back to the Home Shopping Netwok."  I said, "No really, its not a gimmick from TV.  They said it's going to revolutionize the way tubs are cleaned."  She smirked, "They, they said?  Duh, okay show me."

After a few days, I saw no improvement.  I knew she was going to say, "I told you so," so I readied my comeback, "Let's wait the whole thirty days...in case it needs to build-up momentum."

What an embarrassment.  My wife said, "You can wait a year, nothing is going to clean the bathtub other than hard work and elbow grease."  I felt so gullible.  When the thirty days were up, not only did the filth and mildew remain exactly where it started but the product itself, left a soapy grit that made the tub worse!  Then as impossible as it might seem, when the system shut-off after each use, high concentrations of residual cleanser dripped onto our wall fixtures and permanently stained the spigots.  Oy vey, now I need another miracle product to remove the splatter from this miracle product.

I brought the whole kit-n-caboodle back to the store with the receipt.  The customer service person called the manager.  Her unsympathetic boss shrugged and showed me the 800-number to call the company. 

The effervescent phone representative tried to insult my intelligence when she said, "It really, really works!"  How annoying, that was something Ron Popiel would say. Plus, she sounded like the bubbly, scrubbing bubbles voice-over from the TV commercial.  Then she said, "I'll send you a ten-dollar coupon to try it (the craziness) again."  When I threatened to send them a bill to eliminate the film their product caused and to shine up my stained, stainless steel bathtub spout, the rep assured me a check for the full purchase price would be over-nighted to me...and was. 

Somehow in the back of my mind, I was expected those weasels to send three easy refund payments of $9.99...I'm glad I wasn't right about that.  I could only imagine the headache a poor bastard would have trying to run-down his Ginsu, fifty-year guarantee on knives bought in 1977.

When you reflect on how much advertisers pay for a minute of Super-Bowl commercial time, you'll realize that Professor Ericson knew what television was all about.