MEMORIAL DAY OBSERVANCE

Today, offer a silent moment of gratitude for the men and women who have served as well as those who are now serving in our armed forces. We should never lose sight of all the rights and privileges we enjoy as a result of their loyalty, valor, commitment, and sacrifice.

Paraphrased from LIFE'S LITTLE INSTRUCTION CALENDAR - VOLUME VIII

In my childhood the idea of being in the military was cool. I loved to make the garden into a battleground for my army soldiers and TV shows like "COMBAT" were must-see events each week. Unfortunately, once I got older and the grim reality of Vietnam set-in, so a military chapter in my life quickly lost its luster.

I respect those in the military because I doubt I would have lasted ten minutes in basic training...much less facing the enemy in the field. I know this because I can barely handle the regimentation of the casino industry.

Military life is difficult enough without having to fight-off a non-human foe. Just try to put yourself in this situation from the movie "JAWS." Towards the end, there is the scene in which the Robert Shaw character (Quint) and Richard Dreyfuss (Hooper) get drunk and merrily compare shark inflicted scars. Roy Scheider's character (Chief Brody) comments about one of Quint's unmentioned scars. Quint says, "Its not a scar...I had a tattoo removed...the U. S. S. Indianapolis."

Quint goes on to eerily tell his account of surviving the single worst at-sea loss of life in US naval history.

ROBERT SHAW as QUINT

The demise of the heavy cruiser U. S. S. Indianapolis is a true story. It led a long and honored career from 1932 until July 30, 1945. Its last mission on July 26, 1945 was TOP SECRET. On that day, the Indianapolis successfully delivered to Tinian Island, the critical parts (the uranium projectile) for "Little-Boy," the atomic bomb that would be dropped on Hiroshima.

Four days later in the Philippine Sea, a Japanese submarine attacked. It is uncertain whether the cruiser was hit two or three times but from the first on-board explosion to the time she sank...was twelve minutes.

It is estimated that three hundred men died from the attack. 880 others abandoned ship and went into water. In a combination or being victims of circumstance and naval stupidity, the men were left to their own devices for four days.

The main reason they were left there was; the mission was so secret that against normal naval procedure...no notice was sent to the port of destination...that meant they weren't missing because nobody was expecting them. Plus there was radio silence. The Indianapolis sent out three distress calls any way. At first all of these S. O. S.'s were claimed to have never been received (later it was discovered that for various reasons, these calls were ignored).

For the sake of the movie's tension, Quint goes into some gory shark-related details about the four-day wait for rescue. Wikipedia takes a less Hollywood-ish tact, saying that the men were systematically dying from drowning, exposure and dehydration with the sharks feeding on the corpses.

Of the original 1196 crew members only 317 lived to tell the tale. Ironically, the Indianapolis was the last major war vessel lost in WWII.

The Indianapolis is just one of countless stories of the ultimate sacrifice. Please, never forget what it means to be an American and always take time to thank the veterans you come across...for their devotion to our freedom and way of life.

CONGRATULATIONS ARE IN ORDER

Help me to congratulate my Uncle Mickey & Aunt Harriet who celebrated their wedding anniversary yesterday. I'm not sure how many years it is now, but I know its big number.

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Its not quite what I had in mind but congratulations are in order, yesterday I experienced my first $62.00 gas fill-up. Talk about cultural shock...I wasn't even on "E."

If you are as old as I am, you can remember 38c per gallon gas. Back in antiquity, gas was cheaper than bottled water and the thought of a $20.00 fill-up was mind boggling. Plus, someone was always there to squeegee your windows. Try getting someone to do that these days.

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A ways back, I told of a Vietnamese co-worker whose name was Dung. When he found out that his name in English meant; fecal matter...he changed his name to Tony. Luckily for us MORE GLIB ThAN PROFOUND-aholics, another example of being named after hydrogenous waste has again squeezed its way through.

Thanks to DOMTRPT and GALEN, my knowledge of Bulgarian culture now goes beyond its capitol Sofia and their money being called a Lev. The vital bit of information that these fine gentleman have shared with me is the Bulgarian word for poop. Phonetically, its pronounced "aki" or if you like "ockey." Conveniently, there is a marginal professional ice OCKEY player... a defenseman from Finland who last played for the Toronto Maple Leafs named...AKI Berg.

AKI BERG

I wonder who named him Aki or if its a nickname?

A ten year veteran, he was never a star, so maybe his name coincides with his less than spectacular stature in the league (NHL). Or, perhaps there was a Bulgarian scout with a wry sense or humor when he was coming up? In any event, Mr. Berg needs to be congratulated on his good fortune to be mentioned in my high-brow column and let's hope when he visits the Balkan region that he has a thick enough skin to ignore the snickering when he introduces himself. Or if he has any sense at all, to stay out of Bulgaria all together.

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I recently read that the movie E. T., THE EXTRATERRESTRIAL was voted the #24 greatest movie of all time by the American Film Institute (AFI).

I only saw it when it first came out and really liked it. Now, 26 or so years later, I couldn't recall the finer details of the plot--so we watched it on TV.

Now that I've (and I stress the I've) re-seen it...Andrew fell asleep during the third commercial (dozing off in the middle of movies is a family tradition), I congratulate myself for my excellent choice and I encourage you all to re-see it or see it for the first time.

Don't get fooled, this is NOT a kiddie movie. It works on many levels. Yes, on the surface the cuddly alien, sci-fi angle is aimed at children but the greater universal message is acceptance, friendship and loyalty.

E. T. is bundled with humorous , cute and clever writing as well as a fresh young cast that includes the adorable Drew Barrymore. If she had more lines, she could have stolen the movie!

The plot is science fiction. Usually what makes sci-fi work is...that the central concept can be seen as plausible to the viewer. This is made abundantly clear in JURASSIC PARK, with the notion of dinosaur DNA being siphoned from fossilized mosquitoes. However, in E. T. such is NOT the case. The movie is pure fantasy with flying bicycles and E. T., a gazillion light years away, cannibalizing normal earthling-level household items to put together a device to "phone home," (yes that's Debra Winger doing his voice-over).

All this wonderment is accomplished in a sweet and sensitive way without being predictable and sappy. Of course even tough guys like me might get a little teary eyed...but that's okay!

SIR BENNY

I don't know the criteria for knighthood but the English badly missed the mark when they over-looked comedian Benny Hill. I'm certain if he was American, he'd be on the new three-dollar bill or at least have him on a series of postage stamps.In our country, Benny is a stranger to today's generation. Maybe there's a problem with the rights to his old TV shows or perhaps the powers that be, think his cutting-edge humor wouldn't be relevant today.

To test the latter possibility, I introduced Hill to my son through U-TUBE. As I expected, Andrew liked it a lot and wanted more. What I can't fathom is, that despite the enormity of his success in the U. K., (The Benny Hill Show, in one form or another viewed consecutively from 1955-1988), the program (or programme as the English spell it), slipped into obscurity, got cancelled and even worse...soon Benny Hill became a persona non grata. To find out why this great talent was tossed aside, let's go back to the beginning.

Alfred "Alfie" Hawthorne Hill was born on January 21, 1924 in Southampton England. He worked in a wide range of odd-jobs before getting into show business. Once he got his foot in the door, Hill, in honor of comedian Jack Benny, changed his name to Benny Hill.

In his early television years, Hill produced four shows a year on the BBC. These shows, because of his unique style of humor (or humour as the Brits spell it) were greatly anticipated by his tremendous following.

Down through the years, especially in the mid-eighties, Hill was prodded into doing more and more. When Thames Television took over for the BBC, he was encouraged (monetarily) to produce a weekly program. The cleverness of the routines wore thin due to over-exposure...which lead to redundancy, sameness and the most dreaded...repetition. But beyond the material, there was something else causing mass negativity towards Hill.

In Hill's shows, a common theme included scantily clothed women being chased by him. This is especially true in his signature closing credits segments with "YAKETY SAX" music in the background. Somehow, in "sexually progressive" England, this concept was deemed by "experts" to be degrading to women. This accusation is particularly wrong because most of the time, the women turned the tables on Hill and started chasing him.

In Britain, a grass-roots movement to oust Hill was started by certain entertainment critics. They claimed this sort of humor, in addition to be sexist was passe...even though independent researchers would prove that a new generation of viewers loved the Benny Hill Show.

Four years after he was off the air, Benny Hill was found dead in his apartment, April 19, 1992.

Similar to two other English comedians, Charlie Chaplin and Peter Sellers, Benny Hill led an odd, perhaps unhappy and/or unfulfilled personal life. A work-aholic, he was remembered by his small circle of close friends to be, a happy hermit and completely dedicated to his craft. He never married (he proposed twice but both women turned him down) and he never owned a car or a house. Benny even lived with his mother until she passed-away in 1976.

He enjoyed traveling abroad but used those experiences to sharpen his foreign language skills and develop more material from observing the locals.

Hill named his predeceased parents as the primary beneficiaries in his will, (approx $20 million {US}). Curiously, his secondary beneficiaries were already dead too. Therefore, his fortune slipped into the hands of his tertiary beneficiaries; seven nieces and nephews. Hill did however provide a tidy sum for his close friends especially cast members and other associates of his show. Unfortunately for them, the proper legal procedure wasn't followed, (a legitimate oversight? Or Hill's warped sense of humor) ? Nevertheless, this "technicality" allowed the nieces and nephews to contest that portion of the will. They fought it out in court and his family won the entire inheritance.

In the end when Benny Hill's career soured, I can't help but think there was a conspiracy against him. To say his style of humor was passe is ridiculous! In the good old U. S. of A., even the low-brow "THE THREE STOOGES" are considered to be classics with each generation developing new "stooge-a-philes."

I say, "Don't pull Sir Benny down, pull him up.  Out of the cracks of the abyss and celebrate his comic genius. Make him what he deserves to be remembered as, (albeit posthumously) an English national treasure."

Hopefully, PBS or someone else will start showing the old re-runs again. If not, I'm sure there are DVD's out there somewhere and I guarantee he'll make you laugh. I just wish I had the "Yakety Sax" sound effect dubbed over this last paragraph.

EDELBLUM MYSTERY THEATRE

If you watch "LAW & ORDER" re-runs as often as I do--then you realize that the strength of a prosecutor's case rest on the following items: motive, opportunity and murder weapon.

In today's episode of "EDELBLUM MYSTERY THEATRE," you the viewer, get to weigh the evidence against the accused while playing judge, jury and if necessary--executioner.

My relationship, over the last six-plus years, with BOOB, my evil, classless and stupid next-door neighbor has been strained to say the least. Of course I don't want to say or do anything that might cause you to be biased against him but it should be noted that he's also *stupid, a control freak and may be of Austrian descent...yes, he has no basement...but, he DOES have an attic! And I bet, that attic is off-limits to his strange wife.

* I repeated "stupid" purposely because he's more than merely stupid--plus, I like calling him stupid.

The shenanigans in question occurred yesterday, the day I chose to get my sprinkler system up and running. Before getting to that task, I left the house to walk our dog (Roxy). Coincidentally, my neighbor BOOB was pulling debris out of a sprinkler head that lies side-by-side with one of mine. I don't want to further influence you negatively against this moron but I walk the dog the other way because he once said to Andrew (my son) that he'd kill the dog if it ever peed on his lawn.

Later yesterday afternoon, I turned on my water. I remembered that at the end of last season that my system was intact and in fine working condition.

The area away from BOOB's house is the first zone to get watered. One sprinkler head needed to be adjusted and then I noticed that the protective lid was cracked and was no longer attached to the unit. This undoubtedly happened from being driven on AND, on top of general wear and tear, it should be taken into account that it was an original (19+ years) piece of equipment.

I was satisfied that zone-one was up and running as zone-two (near BOOB) belched and farted as water ran through it for the first time. However, the stream coming from three of the four heads was weak, but non-existent from the one next to where BOOB was working...a mere ninety minutes earlier.

The protective lid on this (three year old) sprinkler was also detached but wasn't cracked. Inside, the actual mechanism had been broken into three parts. This evidence does NOT lend itself to being crushed by a car.

So I beseech you fine readers of MORE GLIB ThAN PROFOUND, does BOOB have enough of a motive to do such a dastardly deed...or is he just STUPID, stupid?

Did BOOB have opportunity...well he had the time it took to walk the dog. This becomes more plausible if you're a conspiracy theorist...because Bob could have been clocking my movements for months waiting for his chance to sabotage my sprinkler.

And of course, what about his weapon of mass destruction, well, he was clearly seen with the tools necessary to repair/adjust his own sprinkler problems. Which could have just as easily been used as the implements of doom to mine.

Or is it all a coincidence? Because if it isn't a coincidence how should I proceed against him. Considering I do not have corroborating witnesses and the evidence is purely circumstantial because, I didn't actually see him tampering with anything. Plus, I have been unmercilessly and unnecessarily MF'ed by this "gentleman" on several previous occasions and therefore would prefer to avoid a confrontation--especially if I'm wrong.

I value your input, please help me decide what to do.

LEAVE IT TO BEAVER...not

During a recent visit with my mother, we reminisced about wild things that happened on our street. After she retold the story below, she reminded me how lucky she was to have such great kids.

Late fifties TV shows depicted family life as sterile and wholesome with dilemmas of minor consequence mixed in. Sit-coms like "OZZIE AND HARRIET" and "FATHER KNOWS BEST" typified this notion. However, I would expect that few TV viewers actually bought-in to the idea of housewives cleaning and cooking in beautiful dresses and high-heels. Or, that husbands, after a hard day at the office were taking off their suit's sports coat (while leaving their ties on) as they straightened-out the day's travails, in a smoking jacket.

When I was little, I didn't need to be Einstein to figure out that real-life families were different from TV. I only had to look outside daily, to see our impatient neighbor encouraging his dalmatian to do its business quickly by clearly enunciating to the world, the entire contents of the profanity handbook. Across the street, we had the head-shaved guy we kids called Mr. Clean. He seemingly wore his wife-beater tee-shirt outside everyday, even to shovel snow. A few doors further down George, from the filling station, came by a couple of times a week to visit his friend. After a while you'd think he'd realize that his friend was at work during the day and that his friend's wife was alone in the house...I wonder what they were talking about? Nevertheless, the most intriguing and most dysfunctional family on our street featured a dad, mom and son. Let's call them the Cleavers.

The father (I'll call him Ward) was the root of the Cleaver's downfall. An austere accountant, he walked drearily home like clockwork at 6:30. Expressionless, in a black suit and black fedora, he carried a black cloth briefcase in one hand and a black umbrella (rain or shine) in the other. This Willy Loman-like figure never acknowledged the kids on the street and never looked our way either.

My father used to make "Ward" jokes to my mother. Dad would say that Mr. Cleaver was giving her "the eye," (checking her out). This was made "funnier" because the gossip going around was that Ward was a monster who was no stranger to smacking his wife (I'll call her June) around. June frequently wore giant sun-glasses and/or gobbed-on plenty of make-up to hide her pummeled face.

June was certainly oppressed and Ward, in addition to being a tyrant was especially cheap.

Back around 1960, in many households the husband handled all the money matters. The Cleavers were one such family. June, because Ward was so thrifty...never had any "mad-money" until she developed this scheme:

In a rotation of housewives that included my mother, June would come by and ask if there was anything she could pick up for them at the market. At a time when a can of corn was probably 15c, her subterfuge rarely amounted to more than a dollar at a time. The selected neighbor would give her the money thus "padding" the Cleaver grocery order. When Ward came home, he'd check the supermarket receipt total and take back the exact change from June. This allowed June to pocket the pittance from what she picked up for the neighbor.

Please remember, Ward was an accountant. At some point, even though 1960-era cashier register tapes only showed prices, Ward, perhaps during a spot-check, itemized the list against the newly bought goods and discovered the discrepancy. At about that time, June accidentally walked into a door. She broke her jaw and never asked to go shopping for neighbors any more.

June and Ward had one son, Beaver. He was four years older than me and a nice guy. Once when I was around ten, he climbed a tree to free my friend's kite. Several other times he stopped to throw a ball with us. In my early teenage years Beaver began ignoring us. At about that time, I saw him hanging-out in the parking lot of a closed strip mall with "hitters" (outside Brooklyn most people call these trouble-makers, Greasers).

One afternoon my friends and I saw Beaver lurch out his front door and fall on the lawn. We ran over and thought he was sick. He laid motionless and stared directly at the sun. Suddenly, he began to shake. His convulsing got worse and he muttered incoherently. A woman looked out her window and saw our crowd watching him "trip." She rushed outside and ushered us away. Down the block, we occupied ourselves for a while until we heard the police sirens and the ambulance.

The next (and last time) I saw Beaver, we were playing stickball in front of the Cleaver's house. Ward was watering the garden and Beaver was stumbling up the street. He confronted his father and a violent argument ensued...until Beaver pulled a gun. He led his father into the house and after a few minutes, Beaver ran out, threw the gun into the bushes and fled. We could hear June screaming before she and Ward came out. June was hysterically crying as Ward set-out after Beaver...his chase lasted to the corner and he gave up.

I'm going to see my mother later this week and I'm going to tell her she was wrong to say, she was lucky to have such good kids...because it's the other way around.

With that in mind, remember, its never too early to get ready for MOTHER'S DAY.

MY HERO, DANNY KAYE

In my childhood, especially on rainy days or when I was sick, I had a selection of kiddie records to pass the time. Two featured the Three Stooges, there was a Peter and the Wolf, Tubby the Tuba, Captain Kangaroo and some less interesting ones. But my favorite was the musical/comedy of Danny Kaye.  It was one of the gifts for my fifth birthday.

Through my sister's pro-action in the late 70's, she made cassette copies (which I still have) when all our old vinyl began warping.

At first, I wasn't certain what the title of that treasured record was.  I recalled the cover had Danny Kaye laying across a wooden rocking chair holding an over-sized lollipop while dressed in short pants like a kid from the forties. My favorites cuts were: "I'm Five, I'm Five...I'm a Big Boy Now, I'm Five," "See-Saw" (which I regularly sang {badly} to my son Andrew), "Crazy Barbara" and "Mommy, Give Me a Drink of Water."

HOLY SCHNIKEES, I FOUND THE ALBUM COVER PICTURE ON THE WEB.

In addition to performing all those great songs, he was inspired to write them by the birth of his daughter in 1946.

I got on this Danny Kaye "trip down Memory Lane," because TCM played some of his movies last week, plus the classical music radio station featured his Broadway accomplishments on their Sunday show-tune edition.

It then occurred to me that my childhood hero...by today's standards...is a virtual unknown.

David Daniel Kaminsky (Danny Kaye) was born to Ukrainian immigrants in the East New York section of Brooklyn, January 18, 1913. Although he never graduated Thomas Jefferson High (my mother's alma mater), he was already a star Borscht Belt comedian as a teenager. Among his many funny talents was the ability to play manic, Russian accented characters, while speaking at breakneck speed.

Danny Kaye is most recognized for his work in movies, (he was dark-haired so the movie moguls had him dye his hair red to be more striking...and they were right). In the early thirties, he landed in Hollywood and performed in bit parts until hitting it big. His most famous starring roles were:

- The Secret Life of Walter Mitty
- The Inspector General
- White Christmas
- The Court Jester
- Merry Andrew
- Hans Christian Andersen (My favorite Danny Kaye movie)

Kaye also was a radio personality, had his own TV show and performed for the royal family in 1948, at London's Palladium Theater. That performance was later described as, "Worshipful hysteria," as the royals... so enthralled by Kaye, shockingly left the royal box to sit closer for a better view.

Kaye was such a high-level superstar that in 1952, he hosted the Academy Awards. Some of you might remember from the 60's that he was the host of the annual broadcast of the "Wizard of Oz." I also recall him being especially cute as a guest star on the "Muppets."

Beyond the glitter of the entertainment industry, Kaye was a great fan of the Brooklyn/Los Angeles Dodgers...and baseball in general. In 1977, he became an original owner of the Seattle Mariners.


Danny Kaye was an ardent fund raiser for UNICEF and later became their ambassador. He also helped raise over five million dollars for the Musicians Pension Fund. In addition to helping educate people about the Holocaust, Kaye came out of retirement in 1981 to play a serious role as a survivor in the made for TV film, "SKOKIE."

Andrew is familiar with Kaye only from that cassette of my kiddie record. I got him to watch a snippet from Walter Mitty (I admit, the non-daydream scenes are dated ) but I was thrilled that my son appreciated Kaye's genius.

Danny Kaye suffered from a bout with hepatitis in 1987 and died shortly thereafter of a heart attack on March 3rd of that year.

A true icon who succeeded in every entertainment medium, I hope you all take time out and discover or re-discover that great unknown superstar of my childhood.

THAT'S NOT A MIDDLE FINGER, HE JUST THINKS KOSUKE IS #1

I work with a gentleman named Richard Roundtree. I'm almost certain he doesn't know who I am...but I think of him all the time.

Richard Roundtree has the same name of the actor who played the title role in the original 1971 movie, "SHAFT." So, every time I pass him in the hallway, the Shaft movie theme song, sung by Isaac Hayes, comes to mind. My favorite lyric is, "That cat Shaft is a bad mother..." That phrase you may recall, is interrupted by the female chorus chiming in, "Shut you mouth!"

Well, if you are as old as I am, maybe you remember that in the original recording, there is an added "f" syllable after the word, mother. Apparently that hint of profanity forced the record producer to tweak the song to make it more presentable to the record buying public as well as the radio listeners of the time.

A similar problem has cropped up this year in baseball. But I do NOT see any way to "tweak-away" this profanity.

His first name is Kosuke but I have a feeling that he'll be someone known strickly by his last name. Having been imported from the Japanese major league, he's a rookie on this year's Chicago Cubs. He's gotten off to an impressive start and immediately developed into a fan favorite. Although his prowess on the field deserves mentioning, his name alone made him legendary before he stepped on the field. You see Kosuke's last name is pronounced FOO-KOO-DOE-ME but it is spelled...F-U-K-U-D-O-M-E.

The scope of his name's notoriety was evident on opening day. Four shirtless Cubs' fans each had a letter painted on their chest. When they stood together in sequence it spelled F-U-K-U. Unfortunately, a picture of them was unavailable at press time.

During that first game, Fukudome had three hits including a dramatic ninth inning three-run home run that sent the game into extra innings.

Yes, the lowly Cubs had a public relations boon on their hands. If he could have retired as he crossed home plate, he would have been crowned president of Chicago. But alas, the game carried on and in the next inning, they proved to be the same old Cubbies...and lost.
Through the first half-month of the season, despite Fukudome being a bad mother-f , (shut your mouth), the Cubs are once again especially ordinary.
(Editor's note) - In 2006, while at the Rock-N-Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland Ohio, Andrew and I listened to the Shaft theme song and they too had the edited version without the added "f."