Lies, Lies and More Lies

     The Internet is a wonderful tool for scammers. Whether it be a major company or someone selling bananas out of his garage, they all scam relentlessly. And since their business is on the Internet, that makes cheaters and swindlers selling their crap on a world stage. Certainly not a roadside stand of fruit and vegetables.
     Daughter Jennifer and son-in-law Jeffrey were prey to a scammer, and they recited their tale of woe over our Valentine Day dinner. The ad in their paper, The Hartford Daily Disappointment, urged all dog owners to submit their animals in a contest to find the most attractive and smartest dog . They entered a photo of Cecil, a Wonder Dog who brings his leash when he wants to do his duty outside.
     Cecil was rescued a day away from extinction at the animal shelter in LA by Jen's college roomate who worked there. Nikki saw his beautiful eyes and laughed when he stood up on two legs to beg. He was a runaway mixed breed.....cocker spaniel and maltese terrior.....captured along the Hollywood Freeway, all matted, shivering, wet, hungry and scared. Jen fell in love with him at first sight.
     So, Cecil's photo and a video were sent into the newspaper ad's address and he was accepted. He had to sit for more photos in the company's contest studio.....at no charge.....then his owners were offered an opportunity to purchase different sized photos, ranging from $300 to $1,000. Hmmmm. Sounds like a scam to me. Well, sort of. The photographer made money off the "contest" and this was his gimmick!
     I manage to defeat the scammers at every turn. For example, the telephone telemarketer offered me free dancing lessons. I claimed to have only one leg. She apologized. When I asked about pole dancing she hung up. Haha. Then I was offered a subscription to a year of TIME Magazine for only $10.00. Of course I said. "Send the first week's issue to me care of HOLIDAY INN, Columbus,OH; second week to Ramada Inn, Dallas,TX; third week to Fairmont Inn, San Francisco,CA.......because I claimed to be a traveling salesman. I'm off the sucker list!
     Netflix offered me a free month's trial. I accepted and then cancelled before the end of the free month. They had my credit card and charged me $9.95 for the second month. I complained via email and snail mail. Someone who could speak English called me to confirm the cancellation and funds returned. That procedure took too much time and was one more scam I won't fall for; i.e. once you give your credit card for Shipping and Handling or validation purposes, you might as well hand over your wallet to a stranger on the street.
     Although you are given some free bait to chew on, the scammer has his hands on your pocketbook and will help himself to your funds. It's all quite legal because YOU gave him your card numbers. For the future, don't even tell someone what time it is over the phone or on the computer.
     So, folks, this is my lesson for the day. Everybody lies to make money. And it's your money that is at risk. Don't let loose of it. Use it for your benefit and your family too. The scammers have grown in size from a few hundred to a few million. There is no hope for the future. I'm joining the French Foreign Legion to fight ISIS.

My One Night Stand With Frank Sinatra Jr.

     Several decades ago I received a phone call from Rich Szabo, lead trumpet player with Frank Sinatra, Jr.'s band playing at the Sands Hotel in Atlantic City. Rich and I were long time friends. He grew up in Livingston, NJ and became a first class musician. I hired him in 1980 to lead a small jazz band I needed when I campaigned Betty Boop for President. He was also in a pilot tape I produced for TV Channel 9, performing on the street with other musicians. They all played out of tune, displaying a sign: WE NEED MONEY FOR MUSIC LESSONS. That pitch generated enough money to buy our musicians and camera crew dinner.
     So Rich is on the phone and says that Sinatra, Jr. wants to meet me personally in Atlantic City the next night. He'll pay all expenses....travel, hotel room and meals. I'll get a front row for his soldout show and we'll hang out together in his penthouse suite afterwards. I accepted the invitation.
     For those who don't remember or were not born at the time, little Frankie was kidnapped and held for ransom. Frank Sr. paid the million dollar ransom and got him back unharmed. The kidnappers were caught, went to jail and the money never found. I suspect the criminals buried it somewhere so they could live nicely after twenty years of incarceration.
     As a result of his abduction, Sinatra, Jr. developed a phobia about being in crowds, always fearful of being kidnapped again. So he became reclusive, except for appearances on stage. His meals were always in a guarded suite and he stayed very close to home. Szabo had told him about my many adventures, especially the ones with Betty Boop campaigning in Los Angeles, Aspen, New York and Detroit. In the latter city we marched into the Joe Louis Arena with our entourage, Ms. Boop and the band playing "The  Saints." The guards surrounded us and we were thrown out. What fun that was!
     I enjoyed dinner at the luxurious Sands with Szabo, enjoyed the show afterwards and then took the elevator up to Sinatra's suite. A guard ushered me into the sunken living room and Rich Szabo introduced me to Frank Sinatra, Jr. He was delighted to meet me as was I to meet him. I accepted a diet Pepsi and noticed two stunning blondes standing in the background. The were wearing skimpy outfits that barely covered anything. (I learned later they were Penthouse Magazine models who occasionally traveled with the singer. Hmmmmmm.)
     Szabo had warned me in advance not to pose for any photos with Frank; that was always a no-no along with the crowd phobia. I always had my 35 mm Kowa camera with me. Oh well. We'll see, I thought.
     It was around 11 pm when I arrived at the penthouse. Frank and I hit it off immediately and talked and talked about everything imaginable. The phone rang once. It was Frank, Sr. I heard one side of their conversation:  "Hi dad. Everything went well. Great show, great audience and I feel fine. How about you? I'm here with Alan Abel. You remember that campaign in the 60's to clothe all naked animals for the sake of decency? Yes, that was his creation. He had Buck Henry helping him with the hoax. It fooled everybody, including Walter Cronkite. Yes, very funny. We're having a lot of laughs over that and other capers he did. O.K. I'll talk to you tomorrow night. Love you. Bye-bye."
     The hours went by with more talk and lots of laughter from Frank, Rich, the two girls and two security guards. Room service brought up a rolling table laden with sandwiches and salads for all at
4:00 am. I was getting very tired. Frank must have had his adrenaline kicking in. He showed no signs of relaxing from more talk. Around 6:00 am I told him I really had to get some sleep and he quickly apologized and agreed.
     Rich Szabo was in the bathroom and I asked Frank, "would you mind posing for a photo with me?" He paused for a moment and then said, "Sure. Why not?" One of the guards took my camera, we posed with arms around one another and Szabo appeared with a very shocked look. Until he saw Frank smiling.
     That was my my one night stand with Frank Sinatra, Jr. and I have the photos to prove it.

Oh Dear What Can The Matter Be With Brian Williams?

     I suspect that the only people happy with the bruhaha surrounding NBC Anchor Brian Williams are Bill Cosby, Kim-Jung-un and Justin Bieber. The news spotlight has certainly dimmed on those three celebrities!  Then there is Bruce Jenner and his auto accident, transformation and...oh let's just forget him and concentrate on rich Brian Williams.
     I'm sure Mr. Williams is earning more money than any three NFL football players. So he'll be shedding his tears all the way to the bank, if the NBC "suits" decide to dump him and give the job to Lester Holt. It doesn't take much flack for a thin-skinned corporation to suffer when one of their highly paid executives has created a public relations fire storm. Just consider the Ohio State University former President, Dr. E. Gordon Gee, when he uttered "damn those Catholics" on an open mike. Gee was given the boot in a matter of hours.
     But Brian Williams can be forgiven by legions of fans, probably millions who have admired his forthright news delivery and handsome persona. He is as much a fixture for the nightly news as was Walter Cronkite and Anderson Cooper and David Muir are now. The latter two often hop on a plane and travel overnight right into the heart of a breaking news event. That takes a lot of chutzpa!
     Before getting back to Brian Williams, I'm thinking of a scenario 25 years ago when ABC news anchor Peter Jennings gave me a moral boost. I was attending a convention of television news producers, directors and anchors in San Mateo, California. My invitation happened because I had appeared on "20/20" with Barbara Walters and Hugh Downs to discuss my faux New York Lottery winner, Lee Chirillo. She had graced the full front pages of the NEW YORK POST and DAILY NEWS>
     There were a thousand people at the convention. I shared a panel discussion on fake news with Emily Rooney (yes, Andy's daughter) and Richard Tuck. Emily was a TV news reporter in Boston and Tuck  was a publicity hound who once waved Richard Nixon's private train out of the Chicago station as he was delivering his speech on the rear observation car platform. Very embarrassing for "Tricky Nixon."
     Jerry Nachman, former Executive Editor of the NY POST moderated the panel discussion and he teamed up with Emily Rooney in making disparaging comments over my fooling the media with fake news stories. They didn't like me and fired away. I tried to defend my stunts as satirical, in between the serial killers and predators that dominated the news. Several hundred news people in the audience provided planty of boos and hisses when I spoke.  Some even stormed out of the conference room.
     That night at dinner in the ballroom, there were 50 tables with open seating for 12 at each one. Every table was soon filled, except for the one where I sat all alone. Nobody wanted to sit with me. Shrimp cocktail was the appetizer as I sensed the conspiracy to ignore me. Then, suddenly, Peter Jennings approached my table and sat next to me. More reporters approached and soon there were 12 diners chatting amiably with me.
     So, Brian Williams might feel badly because  close friends are boycotting him over his remarks that he was in a helicopter over Iraq taking on rocket and grenade fire. And it turns out he wasn't in that particular flying machine, rather the second one, he shouldn't be censored for his indiscretion. Especially after his apology and a promise to be a good boy hereinafter, as the legal beagles like to say.

Death Insurance Anyone?

     Why do insurance companies call it "Life Insurance" when the insured person is covered until he or she dies? That is, as long as the premiums have been paid. Any default on a premium will nullify the insurance policy. And if you're over the age of 80 you can't be insured, unless it's a renewal. But only up to the age of 89!
     So let's start from the beginning and call it DEATH INSURANCE.  I've been receiving mail from Globe Life and Accident Insurance Company in Oklahoma City for the past ten years, About once a month they include a "personal" pitch letter and a chart with the monthly premiums. There is also a Business Reply envelope with the postage paid. I always send that back with my own "personal" pitch letter pleading for helping hermaphrodites become first class citizens; i.e. allowed to vote twice, file joint tax returns and a private John in the Armed Forces. Lots of luck!
     Globe's mailing includes a small print disclaimer I can't read. Too small. Not even my magnifying glass will raise the letters sufficiently to read. Doesn't matter. I know it has to do with Globe's limitations on their coverage. You probably have to die struck by lightning while painting your house or running naked in the woods. Who knows! Who cares! I'm not buying their "protection."
     Just what does it cost for Grandpa and Grandma, both 86, to be covered by Globe for a $50,000 "Life" Insurance policy? Only $526.99 a month! They couldn't round off that premium to $527, could they? If these Senior Citizens live to be 90 they would have spent $5,270 in premiums. Thereafter, probably in an assisted living facility, they would have to turn over their policy to that institution. And you know who profits if this couple dies before reaching 100. That's not a bad investment for any "Rich House For Lepers."
     At the Waveny Retirement Center in New Canaan,CT, retired Dr. Charles Crown played piano to entertain the guests, along with yours truly on drums. Dr. Crown was a stride pianist who managed to sound like a smal band of musicians when playing popular songs from the 30's and 40's. One elderly lady who was 105 years young, pantomimed a piano keyboard at her card table and silently mouthed the words to the songs, while accompanying herself on an invisible piano.
     Afterwards, I sat at this table with the smiling lady, Helen,  and she spoke to me with great clarity. Her many years on planet earth were just as amazing to her as it was to the facility's staff. Helen had been a church pianist in Stamford, CT and outlived everyone in her family, except for six grandchildren who visited her every Sunday. She counted every day as a blessing and, except for the usual chills and pills, she had no complaints.
     I asked Helen if she carried insurance and she replied, "for whom?" We both laughed and she said goodby by humming "Great Day," and pretending to add a piano background. That really made my day!
    

My Day With Cialis And A Six Hour Appendage

     I've wondered about the TV ads for a dose of Cialis and "being ready to perform with little or no notice." That sounds rather inviting. But then there are the side effects. They sound worse than the the cure for ED! Let's walk through the following scenario.
     The announcer shows a romantic couple ready for action. They are either going into a bedroom or heading for the ocean beach. Then the voice reminds male viewers to be careful. I'm advised not to go on this longevity trip if I am taking certain medicine. A long list of pills for ills are listed. I can neither pronounce or spell the names. But I have my master list at the ready. I won't be on a collision course.
     So I pass the first round. Now my mate is getting anxious and tugging at my you-know-what. But wait. The phone is ringing. Her mother will be arriving in an hour for a brief visit. That news did not soften the blows. I remained erect. My mother-in-law stayed for five hours. I timed it. My extended limb remained "ready when you are." But mind over matter said, "perhaps later that night in bed."
     While eating dinner I sat through more side effects from Cialis on the TV. There might be a danger from Bladder Sling, Scrotum Hammock and diarrhea. But not necessarily in that order. Along the way to the bedroom I could feel dizzy, faint, unable to breathe and lose my balance. There could also be brain damage (if I fell and hit my head on the floor). Then I should call my doctor or 911 or go to the hospital for x-rays and treatment. Nor should I forget my insurance cards and driver's license or passport.
     My libido was beginning to wane. I would say by three or four inches. Should I take another shot of Cialis? Perhaps a swig of booze?  Maybe drop in on Physician One Urgent Care? Or CVS's One Minute Clinic? I had to resolve this issue because the plumber was knocking on our door to fix our clogged toilet. He did with his snake and only charged $100. Cash. I wondered if he could also do something about my personal problem. Forget it!
     To complete this rather fascinating tale, our dinner delivered from Long John Silver was tasty. We watched "Jeopardy" together and answered only one answer with the correct question:  "How does someone get to Carnegie Hall?"  Answer: "Practice, practice, practice." The three panelists did not know that one. But one of them knew who the construction foreman was at King Tut's tomb.
     After digestion and a hot bath we both fell asleep. She was exhausted from her mother's visit.....you know, all that interrogation.....and I was tired of being tired. But thanks for the experience Cialis. Maybe another day I'll try your "easy rider" pill.

MY FORMER RENT CONTROLLED APARTMENT IN NYC

     This large 3-room apartment had 12 foot ceilings, was on the ground floor in a small building on West End Avenue with 12 floors and 50 apartments.

It was only a block from the subway and the crosstown bus was right outside the front door.

     I had the place for 40 years before being “railroaded” out in Housing Court. Why? Because the judge noticed I had a library card in Westport,CT. That’s where my wife and I had our weekend cottage.

     Stanley Stahl owned the apartment building. He was a narcissist, yet refused to allow anyone to take his photograph. He also had an office on Park Avenue and always sat in the dark. A very strange man indeed!

     In the 60’s our apartment rent was $100 a  month. In the 70’s it was $200. In the 80’s $300 and the 90’s it jumped to $600. Stahl wanted the apartment so he could rent at market value, $3,000 . He offered me $5,000 to leave. I wanted $50,000. He refused and hired a goon to bully me

     Mark was a good looking guy from Florida who moved to NYC and was in

need  of an apartment.  I wanted a roommate to share the rent and spotted his ad in the Village Voice. We met and  I let him move in. Little did I know that he had also contacted Stahl and propose to bully me out. Then he could bring his girl friend from Miami and save money on the rent.

     I only stayed in the apartment several nights a week. Mark was an artist and was making connections among the galleries for his paintings. One night I returned to the apartment and Mark had changed the locks! What a bummer that was. I called a llocksmith and changed the locks. I also moved all of Mark’s belongings into an alcove in the lobby. And I went to see “Air Force One” with Harrison Ford, a great movie.

     When I returned to the apartment, Mark and his girl friend from Florida, Susan, were in the lobby. She was crying. He was angry. I was furious. We argued about his changing the locks. The doorman called the police and an officer arrived. He advised me to let Mark and Susan stay in the apartment if they promised not to change the locks. They promised not to.

     Meantime, I was summoned to Housing Court by the building owner, Stanley Stahl. His lawyer claimed I had sublet my apartment, rather than take in a roommate. And there were two  witnesses to corroborate: the doorman and Mark. I had 30 days to pack up and move out. Mark and Susan would stay in the apartment.

     I left without looking back. After all, four decades is somewhat of a record for living in New York City, especially Manhattan. But then I did get the shaft and thought about some sort of revenge. Mark and Susan made a deal with Stahl to rent my apartment for half the market value ($l,500) if he testified in court against me. I believe it’s called perjury.

     A blog in the works will explain what happened several months later.