That's right. Your money back if you don't like the product or service. Please allow six to eight months. What takes all that amount of time to return, say $9.95? Well, the company has to pay legal fees for the Chapter 11 they filed to reorganize; then there are the expenses for employees salaries, a huge electric bill and their postage costs.
With STAPLES, you receive what looks like a postcard and are about to tear up and discard. But on closer look, it's a valid check! (Of course the company hopes you thought it was trash mail and ended up in the round junk barrel). That's money for them, nothing for you. And perhaps that is one reason STAPLES is closing down stores.
Another "guarantee" you have to beware of is the "free offer for services or a gift." If it's too good to be true, it isn't true. Why? Because you accepted the "free" deal and agreed to pay only the shipping and handling costs. The latter sums always exceed the cost of the services and/or the gift.
To add insult to injury, the "company" has your credit or debit card (company in quotes because it's usually just a Post Office Box Number), and the tiny print at the bottom of this disingenuous offer
is too small to read without a magnifying glass. The disclaimer voids any guarantees.
Now the coup d' tat is when you read your next bank statement and notice that $9.95 has been deducted, and will continue to be deducted monthly! That's outrageous and will drive any sane person to Prozac addiction.
So you send a nasty letter to the President of the Company. You receive an apology from the Director of Customer Relations and wait six months to get your money back. Maybe. There is always another SNAFU. Your only recourse is to pay a fee to your bank and void any further deductions.
There are no more free lunches, folks. I knew a young lady who worked for a major insurance company (Fireman's Fund) in their claims department, and the sign over her desk said: DON'T PAY.
That was back in the 90's and apparently they have reformed. But they did have what it takes to take what you've got.
Finally, don't get mad....get even. That's the title of my book published by W. W. Norton and now out of print. Try to have a nice day.
Saturday, December 23, 2017
Friday, December 22, 2017
Why Is Netflix Full Of Shit?
First of all their recent movie, "Bright," is as dull as SNL is Saturday Night Dead. The latter should adopt as its theme music, Frank Sinatra singing "Saturday Night Is The Lousiest Night Of The Week." And Reed Hastings, CEO of NetFlix, might well become a bagger at STOP AND SHOP, to display his lack of talent and Netflix's greedy slope downward.
As a media griper, I have every right to complain about anything that invades my nefarious mind. Let's start with the break-through satirical movie, "Is There Sex After Death,?" Rated R that was written, directed and produced by Jeanne and Alan Abel.
It opened at the Cinema Rendezvous (now known as the Directors Guild Theater) on October 24, 1971 before a soldout audience of 600. They loved this send up of sex and Roger Greenspun's review in the NEW YORK TIMES was headlined FUNNIER THAN WOODY ALLEN'S 'BANANAS'!
Vincent Canby, chief critic for the NY TIMES, was in the audience and called me the next day to say he was also writing a review: "I love the way you dashed up on the stage, during a breakdown of the projector, to offer free vasectomy procedures to the first 100 men at intermission."
Canby's full page rave in the Arts and Leisure Sunday section of the venerable NEW YORK TIMES insured a three month sellout of the movie run. But not so fast, before we get back to oddball Hastings. There is a play within the play as follows.
Hugh Hefner was in the atmosphere at 30,000 feet in his private jet reading the reviews and having a bowel movement in his super expensive leather seat, in his pants. Why? Because he had already booked Roman Polanski's "Macbeth" film at his Cinema Rendezvous (then changed to THE PLAYBOY THEATER). And the premiere was only a month away!!!
All this info was unknown to the Abels and Buck Henry, making his funniest appearance before the camera. The only way Hefner could open "Macbeth" on schedule was if our weekly gross fell below $8,000 a week. Presto! He had the escape clause.
To make a longer tale brief, Hef immediately hired a construction company to tear up his theater's basement. All while the packed audience upstairs was attempting to hear the film's dialogue. Impossible. Refunds were at an all time high. That is, until I hired four German Shepherd Attack Dogs with handlers to threaten the workers, if they made any noise louder than 10 decibels. They packed up their jackhammers and fled.
Our lawyers and Playboy lawyers met and settled. Playboy paid all costs. We moved to Cinema II on the Eastside of NYC and enjoyed another three months of soldout audiences before national distribution, and eligibility for an Academy Award. Boo-hoo. We lost.
Getting back to Netflix, they turned down the award-winning Slamdance Documentary, "Abel Raises Cain," by Jennifer and Jeffery Hockett. Instead, Hastings offered a subcontract by one of his subclass distributors, whose subcontract was full of disclaimers and payback extortion funds.
No way Jose! That's why Netflix is full of shit.
As a media griper, I have every right to complain about anything that invades my nefarious mind. Let's start with the break-through satirical movie, "Is There Sex After Death,?" Rated R that was written, directed and produced by Jeanne and Alan Abel.
It opened at the Cinema Rendezvous (now known as the Directors Guild Theater) on October 24, 1971 before a soldout audience of 600. They loved this send up of sex and Roger Greenspun's review in the NEW YORK TIMES was headlined FUNNIER THAN WOODY ALLEN'S 'BANANAS'!
Vincent Canby, chief critic for the NY TIMES, was in the audience and called me the next day to say he was also writing a review: "I love the way you dashed up on the stage, during a breakdown of the projector, to offer free vasectomy procedures to the first 100 men at intermission."
Canby's full page rave in the Arts and Leisure Sunday section of the venerable NEW YORK TIMES insured a three month sellout of the movie run. But not so fast, before we get back to oddball Hastings. There is a play within the play as follows.
Hugh Hefner was in the atmosphere at 30,000 feet in his private jet reading the reviews and having a bowel movement in his super expensive leather seat, in his pants. Why? Because he had already booked Roman Polanski's "Macbeth" film at his Cinema Rendezvous (then changed to THE PLAYBOY THEATER). And the premiere was only a month away!!!
All this info was unknown to the Abels and Buck Henry, making his funniest appearance before the camera. The only way Hefner could open "Macbeth" on schedule was if our weekly gross fell below $8,000 a week. Presto! He had the escape clause.
To make a longer tale brief, Hef immediately hired a construction company to tear up his theater's basement. All while the packed audience upstairs was attempting to hear the film's dialogue. Impossible. Refunds were at an all time high. That is, until I hired four German Shepherd Attack Dogs with handlers to threaten the workers, if they made any noise louder than 10 decibels. They packed up their jackhammers and fled.
Our lawyers and Playboy lawyers met and settled. Playboy paid all costs. We moved to Cinema II on the Eastside of NYC and enjoyed another three months of soldout audiences before national distribution, and eligibility for an Academy Award. Boo-hoo. We lost.
Getting back to Netflix, they turned down the award-winning Slamdance Documentary, "Abel Raises Cain," by Jennifer and Jeffery Hockett. Instead, Hastings offered a subcontract by one of his subclass distributors, whose subcontract was full of disclaimers and payback extortion funds.
No way Jose! That's why Netflix is full of shit.
Wednesday, December 20, 2017
Aren't You Sick And Tired Of Being Sick And Tired?
I'm complaining about all those drop down computer ads that darken your screen and dare you to delete the page. If you do, the advertising culperts have your "cookies." Not the ones in the toilet. On second thought maybe they do. Because you suddenly hear: "I know you like sports. Have you read this book about the great Babe Ruth?" Then you see a photo of the book and a notice: ADD TO YOUR CART. And, against your better judgment, you are suddenly spirited to amazon.com for the purchase of a book you didn't want.
This sort of selling is the bane of the Internet. I hate it and so do you. Here are some ideas for ridding your home and sanity of these greedy invaders.
1. Call the phone number listed and poke zero for a living person. When he or she answers, just say: "Sprecken Ze Deutch? (sp) Nine times out of ten the person on the other end will simply say: "You're off the list" and hang up on you. I have had this happen many times. BTW I've also used this German trick with panhandlers who run after you on the street and beg for money. Only once did a panhandler reply in fluent German. I gave him a dollar.
2. Send an email back requesting that the company advertise in French, Italian and Hebrew
3. Delete the message as SPAM
4. Locate the company headquarters and email the CEO that you will be paying him a visit soon and to look for your RV in their parking lot
5. Write a letter to the Chief of Police in the city where company is located and request the guide lines for a peaceful picketing of their home office with 20 vets from Vietnam
Any or all of these suggestions will cause alarm with the CEO and Board of Directors; now you are in the driver's seat and can control your destiny, not theirs! So, damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!
This sort of selling is the bane of the Internet. I hate it and so do you. Here are some ideas for ridding your home and sanity of these greedy invaders.
1. Call the phone number listed and poke zero for a living person. When he or she answers, just say: "Sprecken Ze Deutch? (sp) Nine times out of ten the person on the other end will simply say: "You're off the list" and hang up on you. I have had this happen many times. BTW I've also used this German trick with panhandlers who run after you on the street and beg for money. Only once did a panhandler reply in fluent German. I gave him a dollar.
2. Send an email back requesting that the company advertise in French, Italian and Hebrew
3. Delete the message as SPAM
4. Locate the company headquarters and email the CEO that you will be paying him a visit soon and to look for your RV in their parking lot
5. Write a letter to the Chief of Police in the city where company is located and request the guide lines for a peaceful picketing of their home office with 20 vets from Vietnam
Any or all of these suggestions will cause alarm with the CEO and Board of Directors; now you are in the driver's seat and can control your destiny, not theirs! So, damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!
Tuesday, December 19, 2017
ATTENTION ALL MORTALS: HOW TO SAVE YOUR LIVES!
The recent train crash in the State of Washington killed and wounded people. One witness said it was like a war zone as people were crushed by flying steel, or slammed through the window glass or tossed into the seats in front of theirs. A sad and painful situation to witness on the news.
So, will accidents like this happen again? Of course they will and there will be more innocents killed and/or wounded. Bui there is a simple, common sense, way to cut the casualty numbers dramatically. I'll bet you don't have a clue. Let me educate you and management with an idea or two.
First, take school buses for example. Why in hell don't they all have mandatory SEAT BELTS! Because parents have their heads in the sand or someone's behind. I watch the huge school buses filled with several hundred students, all chatting, throwing paper wads or making faces out the windows. They are totally unaware that an 18 wheeler could end their lives forever.
Second, passenger trains. Where are the seatbelts? The AMTRAK accidents have killed or maimed thousands over the years. All commuter and long distance trains should be mandated by the Department of Transportation to install seatbelts or face heavy fines. Ditto for schoolbuses!
Third, high rise buildings must provide all inhabitants with CANOPY PARACHUTES who work above the 30th floor. They will also have a window in each office that can be swung outward, or smashed open with a chair. The box of CANOPY PARACHUTES nearby will save lives. Think 9/11 in New York City. All those people died with no opportunity to live. A sad commentary indeed.
That's it for today.
So, will accidents like this happen again? Of course they will and there will be more innocents killed and/or wounded. Bui there is a simple, common sense, way to cut the casualty numbers dramatically. I'll bet you don't have a clue. Let me educate you and management with an idea or two.
First, take school buses for example. Why in hell don't they all have mandatory SEAT BELTS! Because parents have their heads in the sand or someone's behind. I watch the huge school buses filled with several hundred students, all chatting, throwing paper wads or making faces out the windows. They are totally unaware that an 18 wheeler could end their lives forever.
Second, passenger trains. Where are the seatbelts? The AMTRAK accidents have killed or maimed thousands over the years. All commuter and long distance trains should be mandated by the Department of Transportation to install seatbelts or face heavy fines. Ditto for schoolbuses!
Third, high rise buildings must provide all inhabitants with CANOPY PARACHUTES who work above the 30th floor. They will also have a window in each office that can be swung outward, or smashed open with a chair. The box of CANOPY PARACHUTES nearby will save lives. Think 9/11 in New York City. All those people died with no opportunity to live. A sad commentary indeed.
That's it for today.
Tuesday, December 12, 2017
The Downfall of 1,200 Gilette Employees in Boston
I have been shaving with lather for the past 80 years. When I tried to find a can of Colgate Shaving Cream at Wal-mart the other day, three things happened: 1. I was nearly run over by a huge lady with her shopping cart piled high; 2. The clerk stocking merchandise had no idea what I was talking about. She didn't speak English! 3. When I finally located the Men's Toilet Articles shelves, there was no lather, only cans of Gillette Edge.
So I grabbed one of those to avoid being trampled by that large woman with a huge cookie cutter and far too many toys in her shopping cart. Then I checked out to avoid any further confrontations.
But where was my car? The parking lot was fam packed (remember it was Black Friday) and I was eiher in Aisle A, B, C, D. E. F. G. H, I, J,. K, L, M or N.
You don't want to hear how I found my car. All right, I climbed aboard a 4 X 4 pickup truck and, using my trusty binoculars, spotted my Volvo in Aisle D. Next time I'l tie a string around my finger. Because I have the world on a string. Oh what a great song title, Harold Arlen!
So here is my beef that is bound to eventually put Gillette out of business. My can of Edge Fusion contains a blue foam, looking and feeling like tooth paste, and when I pressed the top of the can, the bluish foam spurted me in the navel. I was holding and pressing the wrong end. Don't laugh. You could do the same.
When I finally squirted the blue ointment in one palm and rubbed it to the other palm, there was a little pile of cold blue foam in each hand. I rubbed my bearded cheeks and shaved. It was a painful task. Not only was my Gilette razor dull from use, the shaving foam was freezing my face. But I endured the pain, removed most of the face hair and applied a hot wash rag, along with a non-alcoholic after shave lotion.
Finally, my advise to Gillette is to change their product's name to EDGE CONFUSION. Then develop a simple push button, with an arrow pointing to the correct opening. My belly button is still itchy from the cold application.
Among the 1,200 folks recently going to work for Gillette, there must be a few with common sense and gender beards that often itch. Especially when they kiss their wife or mate. Mine complained when I could not remove all my beard in one shaving session. It took two sessions and I had to eat a cold dinner.
One last thought. I was expecting a new style wonderful razor from Gillette in the mail, twelve years ago. They promised to send one and never did. I'll continue waiting. But forget the Edge.
So I grabbed one of those to avoid being trampled by that large woman with a huge cookie cutter and far too many toys in her shopping cart. Then I checked out to avoid any further confrontations.
But where was my car? The parking lot was fam packed (remember it was Black Friday) and I was eiher in Aisle A, B, C, D. E. F. G. H, I, J,. K, L, M or N.
You don't want to hear how I found my car. All right, I climbed aboard a 4 X 4 pickup truck and, using my trusty binoculars, spotted my Volvo in Aisle D. Next time I'l tie a string around my finger. Because I have the world on a string. Oh what a great song title, Harold Arlen!
So here is my beef that is bound to eventually put Gillette out of business. My can of Edge Fusion contains a blue foam, looking and feeling like tooth paste, and when I pressed the top of the can, the bluish foam spurted me in the navel. I was holding and pressing the wrong end. Don't laugh. You could do the same.
When I finally squirted the blue ointment in one palm and rubbed it to the other palm, there was a little pile of cold blue foam in each hand. I rubbed my bearded cheeks and shaved. It was a painful task. Not only was my Gilette razor dull from use, the shaving foam was freezing my face. But I endured the pain, removed most of the face hair and applied a hot wash rag, along with a non-alcoholic after shave lotion.
Finally, my advise to Gillette is to change their product's name to EDGE CONFUSION. Then develop a simple push button, with an arrow pointing to the correct opening. My belly button is still itchy from the cold application.
Among the 1,200 folks recently going to work for Gillette, there must be a few with common sense and gender beards that often itch. Especially when they kiss their wife or mate. Mine complained when I could not remove all my beard in one shaving session. It took two sessions and I had to eat a cold dinner.
One last thought. I was expecting a new style wonderful razor from Gillette in the mail, twelve years ago. They promised to send one and never did. I'll continue waiting. But forget the Edge.
Thursday, December 7, 2017
Why Is Alex Trebek Disingenuous?
Alex Trebek is disingenuous when he serves as spokesman for Colonial Penn Insurance commercials. This erudite, impeccable man is telling a BIG LIE when he spouts gleefully how anybody can get insured WITH NO MEDICAL EXAM, NO CREDIT REPORT, NO INCOME, NOTHING, NOT EVEN YOUJR SOCIAL SECURITY NUMBER!!!
It all sounds too good to be true, Alex. Why? Because it isn't true if you are over 85 years of age. Colonial Penn does their homework and won't insure Senior Citizens who are too old. Why? Because they will soon die and Colonial Penn will have to pay a nice sum to the beneficiary. So, it's good business sense to deny potential lepers insurance.
But it's not good for Alex to be the carrier of a disease called lying. Especially when he is so sharp on JEOPARDY, not only with his pronunciations in French, Spanish, German, Greek or Farsi, but also his knowledge behind some of the answers and his often amusing interviews with the three contestants. So, for shame, Alex. Cancel your commercials with Colonial Penn. You certainly don't need the extra money!
Should Alex ignore my suggestion, let me suggest some ad copy he might wish to include:
"Oh by the way folks, (SCRATCH ASS), I'm just like any other hick out there who watches TV and falls asleep. I do that every night after a very long day with JEOPARDY. I have to be prepared by reading all the questions and answers. Sometimes we'll tape three or four shows in one day. That's a lot of malarky, believe me. I also have a lot of bills to pay. So it's gratifying for me to have a life insurance policy with Colonial Penn. I prefer to call it Death Insurance. (LAUGHS). Because somebody gets the money when you die. (HOLDS FINGERS TO LIPS) How about letting me be your beneficiary? I would appreciate that sort of gift. Especially in the weeks before Christmas. Thanks loads. See you on JEOPARDY. Au revoir!
(MUSIC UP AND OUT)
It all sounds too good to be true, Alex. Why? Because it isn't true if you are over 85 years of age. Colonial Penn does their homework and won't insure Senior Citizens who are too old. Why? Because they will soon die and Colonial Penn will have to pay a nice sum to the beneficiary. So, it's good business sense to deny potential lepers insurance.
But it's not good for Alex to be the carrier of a disease called lying. Especially when he is so sharp on JEOPARDY, not only with his pronunciations in French, Spanish, German, Greek or Farsi, but also his knowledge behind some of the answers and his often amusing interviews with the three contestants. So, for shame, Alex. Cancel your commercials with Colonial Penn. You certainly don't need the extra money!
Should Alex ignore my suggestion, let me suggest some ad copy he might wish to include:
"Oh by the way folks, (SCRATCH ASS), I'm just like any other hick out there who watches TV and falls asleep. I do that every night after a very long day with JEOPARDY. I have to be prepared by reading all the questions and answers. Sometimes we'll tape three or four shows in one day. That's a lot of malarky, believe me. I also have a lot of bills to pay. So it's gratifying for me to have a life insurance policy with Colonial Penn. I prefer to call it Death Insurance. (LAUGHS). Because somebody gets the money when you die. (HOLDS FINGERS TO LIPS) How about letting me be your beneficiary? I would appreciate that sort of gift. Especially in the weeks before Christmas. Thanks loads. See you on JEOPARDY. Au revoir!
(MUSIC UP AND OUT)
How To Deal With Grabbers, Groppers and Goosers
The recent spate of accusers, mostly women, has rocked the world. Poor perverts being targeted are amused; no money, no payment. Rich onces call their lawyers and settle for big bucks, that also includes a non-disclosure agreement. I. E. spill the beans and live with empty pockets.
Fortunately, E.J. Farnsworth, an inventor, has a Patent Pending for a "Douche Bag" that allows a hot male with too much testosterone, and a hard on, to obtain both pleasure and relief without getting arrested when performing in public, unable to keep his pecker in his pants.
Briefly, the Douche Bag" is worn like a jock strap and is made of leather. (I can already hear the HELLS ANGELS celebrating!). When the mark spots a beautiful woman and experiences an immediate erection, that's all right. The ten-year miniature battery aciivates, a small sponge squeezes his testicles and forces an ejaculation inside the clothe cup feature of his Douche Bag. Mission accomplished!
The sperm, or come as it's called, remains inside the bag and can be emptied in private. No offense to anyone and certainly no allegations. Perish the thought! The male species is alive and kicking ass, if you'll pardon the expression, albeit there are lots of good looking cookie cutters out there, especially visible in summer.
Members of Congress, both Houses and Senate, are considering Douche Bags for all male members as Christmas presents. Also, introducing a bill that would require them in all USA states to be worn along with seatbelts. What a wonderful gift, along with their Insider Trading pass, and other perks.
Obviously, the late Senator Al Frankin (he was late to deliver his Mea Culpa resignation speech on national television), could have saved his job by wearing a Douche Bag, keeping his pecker in his pants, his tongue in his mouth and his hands in his pockets. But it was too late to lock the barn door; the horse had been stolen. No pun intended.
Meantime, the President was watching Al on TV, having his joint stroked, eating rich chocolate fudge cake with one hand, and tweeting with the other: TOO BAD AL. IF YOU WERE GOP I COULD HAVE SAVED YOU. NOT NOW. PLEASE PRAY FOR JUDGE MOORE TO BEAT THAT SOB. PS JARED NEEDS A NEW CHAUFFEUR. YOU KNOW WASHINGTON STREETS. INTERESTED?
BTW, DOUCHE BAGS will come in sizes small, medium, large, extra large and huge like a horse.
I'm not telling which size I'm ordering. I just hope that Farnsworth wins a Nobel Piece Prize. Pun intended.
Fortunately, E.J. Farnsworth, an inventor, has a Patent Pending for a "Douche Bag" that allows a hot male with too much testosterone, and a hard on, to obtain both pleasure and relief without getting arrested when performing in public, unable to keep his pecker in his pants.
Briefly, the Douche Bag" is worn like a jock strap and is made of leather. (I can already hear the HELLS ANGELS celebrating!). When the mark spots a beautiful woman and experiences an immediate erection, that's all right. The ten-year miniature battery aciivates, a small sponge squeezes his testicles and forces an ejaculation inside the clothe cup feature of his Douche Bag. Mission accomplished!
The sperm, or come as it's called, remains inside the bag and can be emptied in private. No offense to anyone and certainly no allegations. Perish the thought! The male species is alive and kicking ass, if you'll pardon the expression, albeit there are lots of good looking cookie cutters out there, especially visible in summer.
Members of Congress, both Houses and Senate, are considering Douche Bags for all male members as Christmas presents. Also, introducing a bill that would require them in all USA states to be worn along with seatbelts. What a wonderful gift, along with their Insider Trading pass, and other perks.
Obviously, the late Senator Al Frankin (he was late to deliver his Mea Culpa resignation speech on national television), could have saved his job by wearing a Douche Bag, keeping his pecker in his pants, his tongue in his mouth and his hands in his pockets. But it was too late to lock the barn door; the horse had been stolen. No pun intended.
Meantime, the President was watching Al on TV, having his joint stroked, eating rich chocolate fudge cake with one hand, and tweeting with the other: TOO BAD AL. IF YOU WERE GOP I COULD HAVE SAVED YOU. NOT NOW. PLEASE PRAY FOR JUDGE MOORE TO BEAT THAT SOB. PS JARED NEEDS A NEW CHAUFFEUR. YOU KNOW WASHINGTON STREETS. INTERESTED?
BTW, DOUCHE BAGS will come in sizes small, medium, large, extra large and huge like a horse.
I'm not telling which size I'm ordering. I just hope that Farnsworth wins a Nobel Piece Prize. Pun intended.
Tuesday, November 21, 2017
Why Does The Salem Web Network Plagiarize?
Located in downtown Richmond, VA this little known, and even less cared about, radio/podcast network blatantly broadcast a copyrighted documentary without permission or payment. Such thievery might be condoned in Iran, Yemen or Syria; but certainly not in the good old USA where citizens are free to be stupid, vapid or crooked!
The property in question, "Abel Raises Cain," won Best Documentary prizes at Slamdance and a dozen other prestigious film festivals in 2005-6. It was broadcast on the BBC-TV's coveted Channel 4 in 2007. All these venues obtained permission and paid a licensing fee. Salem Web Network did neither.
Imagine pulling up to an ATM machine outside a bank in your 4 X 4 and stealing $5,000 cash? I believe that is called highway robbery and the thief would be serving jail time, along with incarceration until returning the money, and substantial probation wearing an anklet bracelet.
One of the Salem Network's executives lives in Oxford,Mississippi and he recently wrote an impassioned plea on Facebook, addressed to Jimmy Kimmel, pleading for him to stop pontificating and return to comedy.
That is like inviting the fox to sleep in the hen house. Kimmel himself, along with his midget sidekick, committed an outrageous act of plagiarism when they appeared before "SHARKS" to seek funds for their new business: "SELLING HORSE PANTS TO CLOTHE NAKED HORSES"
The upper case letters are there because that faux campaign was copyrighted in "The Great American Hoax," published by Trident Press in 1965 and sold a year later to Paramount Pictures for a major motion picture to be produced by Martin Ritt ("Hud"), directed by Carl Reiner and starring Jack Lemmon.
Salem Web Network is to be sued in Federal Court for its copyright violation. The plaintiffs will be a group of producers who have all been victims of this heinous criminal activity, thus under the RICO statute. That will result in felony charges leading to jail time. Then a subsequent civil suit will claim damages and punitive fees totaling $6,000,000.
A team of volunteer lawyers, including a former Watergate Prosecutor, are waiting in the wings until all the flap over Cosby, Weinstein, Rose and Trump dies down. Probably the early part of 2018.
So stay tuned. There is more news to come and it's not fake.
The property in question, "Abel Raises Cain," won Best Documentary prizes at Slamdance and a dozen other prestigious film festivals in 2005-6. It was broadcast on the BBC-TV's coveted Channel 4 in 2007. All these venues obtained permission and paid a licensing fee. Salem Web Network did neither.
Imagine pulling up to an ATM machine outside a bank in your 4 X 4 and stealing $5,000 cash? I believe that is called highway robbery and the thief would be serving jail time, along with incarceration until returning the money, and substantial probation wearing an anklet bracelet.
One of the Salem Network's executives lives in Oxford,Mississippi and he recently wrote an impassioned plea on Facebook, addressed to Jimmy Kimmel, pleading for him to stop pontificating and return to comedy.
That is like inviting the fox to sleep in the hen house. Kimmel himself, along with his midget sidekick, committed an outrageous act of plagiarism when they appeared before "SHARKS" to seek funds for their new business: "SELLING HORSE PANTS TO CLOTHE NAKED HORSES"
The upper case letters are there because that faux campaign was copyrighted in "The Great American Hoax," published by Trident Press in 1965 and sold a year later to Paramount Pictures for a major motion picture to be produced by Martin Ritt ("Hud"), directed by Carl Reiner and starring Jack Lemmon.
Salem Web Network is to be sued in Federal Court for its copyright violation. The plaintiffs will be a group of producers who have all been victims of this heinous criminal activity, thus under the RICO statute. That will result in felony charges leading to jail time. Then a subsequent civil suit will claim damages and punitive fees totaling $6,000,000.
A team of volunteer lawyers, including a former Watergate Prosecutor, are waiting in the wings until all the flap over Cosby, Weinstein, Rose and Trump dies down. Probably the early part of 2018.
So stay tuned. There is more news to come and it's not fake.
Why You Can't Win PCH Miillions or the Connecticut Lottery
First of all,
Publishers Clearing House wants you to buy something, anything from the pile of
trashy ads enclosed in your “winning” entry form. If you follow the
instructions and paste up all the little ads designated to be pasted in certain
squares (something any 3rd grader could do), then you feel confident
you might win the millions for the rest of your life.
The odds against the
big win are phenomenal. You are more likely to be struck by lightning while
standing under a tree in the rain. Or hit by a falling star from the sky. Or
crushed by a steam shovel at a construction site. YOU CANNOT WIN THE JACKPOT!
PCH was indicted some
years ago for dumping all its entries in the garbage. They managed to redeem
this “error” by promising not to do it again. Ha ha ha. Try telling President
Trumpty Dumpty not to tell anymore lies. Go ahead. I dare you. This psychopath
just can’t help himself; he manifests lies faster than a humming bird flies.
Which rhymes with lies.
The Connecticut
Lottery sells a scratch-off card for $30 that says it is giving you 30 chances
to win. Wait a minute. How about 30 chances to lose? I’ve purchased one card a
month for the past year and once won $30. Only once. Big deal. I got my money
back to buy another card and lose again. But I had 30 chances to lose, not win.
So, shame on the PCH
Lottery and the CT Lottery for their disingenuous advertising. It barely stays on the line of good faith,
sneaking over to the one that spells FRAUD!
Tuesday, October 24, 2017
Don't you just hate those telephone pitch calls?
Sometimes the phone rings at 8 am when I'm fast asleep. It is usually a robot telling me that my pill order is being filled and should be received within ten days. Or a reminder that I have a doctor's appointment a week later. The most recent 9 am caller was an offer from ARTHUR MURRAY'S DANCE STUDIO telling me I had just won three free lessons.
As I rolled over in bed, phone in hand, I explained that I only had one leg (I had majored in lying at TRUMP UNIVERSITY). While the young lady gushed apologies, I interrupted with, "how about pole dancing instead?" She hung up with a thud and a curse. One more scammer. But I'm off their list.
Now what about those offensive calls and stupid surveys or fund raisers who keep 90% of the proceeds? I answer in French: "Bonjour, parlez-vous Francais?" They hardly speak English, not French, maybe Spanish or Farsi. Nevertheless, my fractured French tongue (no pun intended) has severed one more connection.
There is a national DO NOT CALL service that lists your telephone number, and is designed to prevent telemarketers and pitchers, along with scammers, to call you. I've been on that list for ten years and received hundreds of calls, if not thousands. So I'm not going to reveal the number to call.
My final indefensible commentary concerns The Internet per se. That is, how to build a wall around your ears and eyes so you don't see or hear the scams bombarding you 24/7.
First, with Android Systems, choose Marshmallow.com, followed by Nougat.pdf, then Lollipop Only God Knows, highlighted by Messenger and ending with Spam.
If the latter suggestion is driving you crazy, take an aspirin, have a nap and thank me for the therapy. Prozac also helps. No charge for this advice.
As I rolled over in bed, phone in hand, I explained that I only had one leg (I had majored in lying at TRUMP UNIVERSITY). While the young lady gushed apologies, I interrupted with, "how about pole dancing instead?" She hung up with a thud and a curse. One more scammer. But I'm off their list.
Now what about those offensive calls and stupid surveys or fund raisers who keep 90% of the proceeds? I answer in French: "Bonjour, parlez-vous Francais?" They hardly speak English, not French, maybe Spanish or Farsi. Nevertheless, my fractured French tongue (no pun intended) has severed one more connection.
There is a national DO NOT CALL service that lists your telephone number, and is designed to prevent telemarketers and pitchers, along with scammers, to call you. I've been on that list for ten years and received hundreds of calls, if not thousands. So I'm not going to reveal the number to call.
My final indefensible commentary concerns The Internet per se. That is, how to build a wall around your ears and eyes so you don't see or hear the scams bombarding you 24/7.
First, with Android Systems, choose Marshmallow.com, followed by Nougat.pdf, then Lollipop Only God Knows, highlighted by Messenger and ending with Spam.
If the latter suggestion is driving you crazy, take an aspirin, have a nap and thank me for the therapy. Prozac also helps. No charge for this advice.
Saturday, September 30, 2017
THE DOWNFALL OF DONALD J. TRUMP!
If you saw and heard the alleged
President of the USA give a speech from the packed auditorium in Phoenix on
August 22, 2017, and felt distressed over his phony rhetoric, you were not
alone. And you were among the millions fearful of the future as America slides
into a huge black hole.
Banks will fail, shopping malls close one after the other, climate
changes daily from 115 in western states during long summers to lows of 30
below during winter months. Home bankruptcy becomes highest ever as people lose
their jobs and families sleep in their cars or shelters.
This is hell on earth. Even the fat calves are selling their jewelry to
buy food and gas. Sour hedge funds have wiped out all their money. Willy
Nelson’s “Brother Can You Spare A Dime?” and “I Ain’t Got No Pot To Piss In”
are at the top of the Billboard chart. Woe is everybody!
But there is a flicker of hope. The Special Prosecutor, Bob Mueller and
his seventeen attorneys, have followed the Trump money trail and are now ready
to impanel a Grand Jury to issue subpoenas and file indictments.
“President” Trump is not immune from being charged with a number of
felonies. And that means jail time. Imagine this overweight golden haired meat
head in an orange jumpsuit, followed by Junior and Jared?
However, wait. There is Vice-President Pence eager to sit in the Oval
Office. And then as PRESIDENT OF THE USA he can pardon the whole family with
one sweep of the official White House pen that doesn’t leak! But he too gets
indicted for graft.
Fortunately, there have been a few dozen leaks in the White House,
witnesses who will now testify and help convict The Donald under RICO, the
criminal law that sends liars to maximum secure prisons.
While the Republican wimps cower at home, afraid to attend public forums
that include rioting, fearful of envelopes received with white powder and
taking their kids out of school because their peers will “beat the crap out of
them.”
So where do we go from this point on? Remember Hillary Clinton who won
the election by four million popular votes? She is waiting in the wings for a
Congressional Amendment to lead America from the Oval Office.
Mrs. Clinton deserves a Pulitzer Prize for her book, “What Happened,”
and a MacArthur Genius Award for her resilience against the “Immoral Monster.”
Wednesday, August 23, 2017
WHY IS AMAZON.COM A SUCKER TRAP?
Because they are a very deep sucker trap. They not only entice innocents
to make purchases, but they remind you of other items you’ve purchased
elsewhere and crappy stuff they have, in the spirit of Publishers Smearing
House. Another deceitful despot!!!
So I was urged to take their idiotic survey and receive a free
gift. I tried to delete as SCAM.
That doesn’t work anymore; it’s another sucker trap to keep you on board their
slippery ingenuous treadmill to oblivion. But mostly to invade your debit card
account. (And every month they will surreptitiously deduct from your bank!).
After I failed the survey….I refused to buy anything or say something
positive…..just my usual gobbledygook that drives a stupid person nuts….I was
offered my choice from any one of the following FREE PRIZES:
1. A
skin cleaner to make you feel younger and adds years to your life. (I was 60
yrs. old when I once bit on that pitch; it made me feel 65 afterwards.) There was only one bottle left if I
wanted it. No thanks.
2. 30-Day
Anti-aging skin goop. Only 2 bottles left. I was told to hurry up and grab one.
Instead, I grabbed a towel as I was about to puke.
3. Weight
Loss Kit. Contains everything you need to lose those extra tummy pounds. Only 3
kits left. I declined.
4. Male
Enhancement Cream. Makes you bigger, wider, taller and much, much harder. Also
has staying power! B.S. from
Boston said: “I poked my bitch six times in four hours and remained erect for
another two hours! It sure was painful for her trip to ER.” (No cream left, but
emergency supplies are on the way). Forget it!
With all the skimming, scamming and conning over the Internet, being
forewarned is being forearmed!
WHY WE SHOULD DUMP THE TRUMPS AND CLEAN UP THE WHITE HOUSE
WHY WE SHOULD DUMP
THE TRUMPS AND CLEAN THE WHITE HOUSE
If you saw and
heard the alleged President of the USA give a speech from the packed auditorium
in Phoenix on August 22, 2017, and felt distressed over his pandering rhetoric,
you were not alone. And you were among the millions fearful of the future as
America slides into a huge black hole.
Banks will fail, shopping malls close one after the other, climate
changes daily from 115 in western states during long summers to lows of 30
below during winter months. Home bankruptcy becomes highest ever as people lose
their jobs and families sleep in their cars or shelters, if they can find a
vacancy.
This is hell on earth. Even the fat calves are selling their jewelry to
buy food and gas. Sour hedge funds have wiped out all their money. “Brother Can
You Spare A Dime?” and “I Ain’t Got No Pot To Piss In” are at the top of the Billboard
chart. Woe is everybody!
But there is a flicker of hope. The Special Prosecutor, Bob Mueller and
his twelve attorneys, have followed the Trump money trail and are now ready to
impanel a Grand Jury to issue subpoenas and file indictments against the entire
Trump family.
“President” Trump is not immune from being charged with a number of
felonies. And that means jail time. Imagine this overweight golden haired meat
head in an orange jumpsuit, followed by Junior and Jared?
However, wait. There is Vice-President Pence eager to sit in the Oval
Office. And then as PRESIDENT OF THE USA he can pardon the whole family with
one sweep of the official White House pen that doesn’t leak! Then he too gets
indicted for graft.
Unfortunately, there have been a few dozen leaks in the White House,
witnesses who will now testify and help convict The Donald under RICO, the
criminal law that sends people to maximum secure prison doing hard labor.
While the Republican wimps cower at home, afraid to attend public forums
that include rioting, fearful of the envelopes being received with white powder
and home schooling their kids because their peers are told by parents to “beat
the crap out of them.”
So where do we go from this point on? Remember Hillary Clinton who won
the election by three million popular votes? She is waiting in the wings for a
Congressional Amendment, by both Houses, to award her the Oval Office.
# # # #
Sunday, July 30, 2017
BOO HOO YAHOO ENGINEERS
I adore the Internet (thanks to Al Gore?), especially word processing. In high school I could type 80 words a minute without errors, on a manual Underwood typewriter. That made me the teacher's pet. After 30 years with an IBM Electric typewriter, I ran out of ribbons.
So I called Tom Watson, President of IBM in Armonk,NY to complain:
ME: Hello, this is Dr. Abel and I have Mr. Watson's X-rays......
SHE: Oh, Dr. I'll put you right through to Mr. Watson...
HE: Who the hell is this with my so-called X-rays!!!
ME: My name is Alan Abel and I need IBM typewriter ribbons now....
HE: (laughing) Very clever Dr. Quack. I'll have one of my secretaries take your order and send you some. No charge for this; you got through seven of my ladies in less time than the President of the USA last week. Nice going. Please don't try it again.
I received a half-dozen ribbons in the mail and could continue using my trusty IBM for another year. Then the switch to a Model T type computer that was O.K. until I switched to an Apple iMac #10. There were lots of problems with my early Apple and even my complaint to Steve Jobs didn't help.
Now in this year of 2017 I am blessed with a fairly reliable upgraded iMac. My oomplaint is with the dropdown and popup ads. The small x in the upper right hand corner of the page to delete can hardly be seen. Then when I delete, my screen turns dark and a robot message pleads with me to come back. No way! I hit the spam button and provide a polite curse with the action.
But the BOO HOO YAHOO ENGINEERS title of this blog concerns an occasional blank home page and a big notice: PLEASE BEAR WITH US. OUR YAHOO ENGINEERS ARE BUSY REPAIRING THE DAMAGE. THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE.
That's my cue for a trip to the bathroom or kitchen. Or I just browse around on the internet and....low and behold....I've fixed whatever the trouble was. Maybe the Yahoo engineers had to go to the bathroom or the kitchen for a snack. Maybe I had better rephrase that last comment. Never mind!
So I called Tom Watson, President of IBM in Armonk,NY to complain:
ME: Hello, this is Dr. Abel and I have Mr. Watson's X-rays......
SHE: Oh, Dr. I'll put you right through to Mr. Watson...
HE: Who the hell is this with my so-called X-rays!!!
ME: My name is Alan Abel and I need IBM typewriter ribbons now....
HE: (laughing) Very clever Dr. Quack. I'll have one of my secretaries take your order and send you some. No charge for this; you got through seven of my ladies in less time than the President of the USA last week. Nice going. Please don't try it again.
I received a half-dozen ribbons in the mail and could continue using my trusty IBM for another year. Then the switch to a Model T type computer that was O.K. until I switched to an Apple iMac #10. There were lots of problems with my early Apple and even my complaint to Steve Jobs didn't help.
Now in this year of 2017 I am blessed with a fairly reliable upgraded iMac. My oomplaint is with the dropdown and popup ads. The small x in the upper right hand corner of the page to delete can hardly be seen. Then when I delete, my screen turns dark and a robot message pleads with me to come back. No way! I hit the spam button and provide a polite curse with the action.
But the BOO HOO YAHOO ENGINEERS title of this blog concerns an occasional blank home page and a big notice: PLEASE BEAR WITH US. OUR YAHOO ENGINEERS ARE BUSY REPAIRING THE DAMAGE. THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE.
That's my cue for a trip to the bathroom or kitchen. Or I just browse around on the internet and....low and behold....I've fixed whatever the trouble was. Maybe the Yahoo engineers had to go to the bathroom or the kitchen for a snack. Maybe I had better rephrase that last comment. Never mind!
Thursday, July 27, 2017
How About A Pee Body Award?
The prestigious Pee (pun intended) Body Award has been a valuable tradition with the University of Georgia for many years. It is a yearly function by the University's Director of Communications to award trophies to The Most Outstanding Radio or TV Program, The Second Most Outstanding Program and The Third Most Outstanding Program. These Awards are presented at a very special banquet on campus for winners, attended by a hundred media executives.
Every year there are many thousands of entries, with sample tapes and appropriate fees before the deadline. Then comes the task of Professor X to choose the winners. His role is changed every four years and I protect his identity for this essay, especially since he was a bold faced cheater!
My former roommate in New York City was a graduate of the University of Georgia. Let's call him George (not his real name), because he is presently a highly respected antique dealer. During his four years in College, George assisted Professor X as an assistant, often conducting his classes. (Shhhh. The Statute of Limitations prevails in that and this revelation.)
One Friday, when George was planning an outing with friends, he received a frantic phone call from Professor X: "Hey, George old buddy, I'm in deep shit trouble. The Peabody Awards Banquet is only three weeks and I have one week to pick the winners from 4,486 entries. Please come over to my house immediately and bail me out."
Of course George rushed over on his bicycle and Professor X was waiting at the door, sweating profusely. He explained to George what he should do as he was also leaving Athens in an hour with his secret mistress for their weekend hideout in the woods: "Let's go downstairs to the basement where I have the entry tapes. Take a box full, I'll do the same and follow me upstairs."
At the top of the stairs, Professor X tossed the tapes from his box down the stairs, all 40 of them, and told George to do the same. He did. Then they both stepped on tapes, held on to the rail, and cautiously made their way to the bottom of the stairs amid a dozen boxed program tapes.
The Professor was now late for his departure and girlfriend X was honking her horn outside. He told George to pick out a few tapes at the bottom of the stairs, screen them, and then pick One, Two and Three in that order to win the Peabody Awards for the year!!!
That's what George did that year, and for three more until he graduated with honors, recommended by Professor X. Hmmmm. I think it's called a conspiracy, obstruction of justice and disingenuous. So why don't we just call it The Pee Body Awards henceforth?
Every year there are many thousands of entries, with sample tapes and appropriate fees before the deadline. Then comes the task of Professor X to choose the winners. His role is changed every four years and I protect his identity for this essay, especially since he was a bold faced cheater!
My former roommate in New York City was a graduate of the University of Georgia. Let's call him George (not his real name), because he is presently a highly respected antique dealer. During his four years in College, George assisted Professor X as an assistant, often conducting his classes. (Shhhh. The Statute of Limitations prevails in that and this revelation.)
One Friday, when George was planning an outing with friends, he received a frantic phone call from Professor X: "Hey, George old buddy, I'm in deep shit trouble. The Peabody Awards Banquet is only three weeks and I have one week to pick the winners from 4,486 entries. Please come over to my house immediately and bail me out."
Of course George rushed over on his bicycle and Professor X was waiting at the door, sweating profusely. He explained to George what he should do as he was also leaving Athens in an hour with his secret mistress for their weekend hideout in the woods: "Let's go downstairs to the basement where I have the entry tapes. Take a box full, I'll do the same and follow me upstairs."
At the top of the stairs, Professor X tossed the tapes from his box down the stairs, all 40 of them, and told George to do the same. He did. Then they both stepped on tapes, held on to the rail, and cautiously made their way to the bottom of the stairs amid a dozen boxed program tapes.
The Professor was now late for his departure and girlfriend X was honking her horn outside. He told George to pick out a few tapes at the bottom of the stairs, screen them, and then pick One, Two and Three in that order to win the Peabody Awards for the year!!!
That's what George did that year, and for three more until he graduated with honors, recommended by Professor X. Hmmmm. I think it's called a conspiracy, obstruction of justice and disingenuous. So why don't we just call it The Pee Body Awards henceforth?
Wednesday, July 26, 2017
Only $19.95 Postage Paid For This Super-Duper Flashlight That Glows In The Dark If You Call In The Next Five Minutes!
Really? Truly? Cross your heart and hope to die? No kidding? Tell the truth! It's too good to be true. All right. I'll bite. I'll call the 800 number right now. Within two minutes of your TV pitch.
AGENT: Thank you for calling Super-Duper flashlight that glows in the dark. I notice you live in Connecticut and I have your address and phone number on my screen. Mr. Abel, you do qualify for the free shipping. If you order two flashlights, I will only charge you $29.95.. Yes or no?
ROBOT: Please say yes or no.
ME: No, no, no .
ROBOT: Is that a yes?
ME: NO! NO! NO!
ROBOT: I did not understand you. Can you answer in Spanish, French or German?
ME: NO! NO! NO!
AGENT: I'm sorry about transferring you to the Robot, but I had to use the bathroom. Now I can confirm your order for two Super-Duper flashlights that glow in the dark, in case you lose them, for only $29.95. Is that a yes?
ME: NO! NO! NO!
AGENT: Let me sweeten the deal Mr. Abel. I'll send you three Super Duper flashlights that glow in the dark for the fantastic price of only $39.95 postage paid. You will receive them within six weeks.
Is that fine with you?
ME: NO! NO! NO!
AGENT: What if we throw in an electric blanket for only an additional $5.95 that normally sells for $9.95 and we'll pay the postage on that item also. I have your debit card numbers from amazon.com and can punch you right in. What do you say to that incredible deal?
ME: NO! NO! NO!
ROBOT: I have your debit card entered and only need to know your expiration date. Please enter that now.
ME: NO! NO! NO!
ROBOT: I'm waiting for your answer. Don't mess with me. We have other customers. There are only 12 Super-Duper flashlights that glow in the dark. Now there are only 10 left. Only 7. They are going fast. Are you with me?
ME: CANCEL! CANCEL! CANCEL!
AGENT: Sorry again. Now where were we? Hello. Hello. Hello. Where are you? Oh shit. Another one of those!
AGENT: Thank you for calling Super-Duper flashlight that glows in the dark. I notice you live in Connecticut and I have your address and phone number on my screen. Mr. Abel, you do qualify for the free shipping. If you order two flashlights, I will only charge you $29.95.. Yes or no?
ROBOT: Please say yes or no.
ME: No, no, no .
ROBOT: Is that a yes?
ME: NO! NO! NO!
ROBOT: I did not understand you. Can you answer in Spanish, French or German?
ME: NO! NO! NO!
AGENT: I'm sorry about transferring you to the Robot, but I had to use the bathroom. Now I can confirm your order for two Super-Duper flashlights that glow in the dark, in case you lose them, for only $29.95. Is that a yes?
ME: NO! NO! NO!
AGENT: Let me sweeten the deal Mr. Abel. I'll send you three Super Duper flashlights that glow in the dark for the fantastic price of only $39.95 postage paid. You will receive them within six weeks.
Is that fine with you?
ME: NO! NO! NO!
AGENT: What if we throw in an electric blanket for only an additional $5.95 that normally sells for $9.95 and we'll pay the postage on that item also. I have your debit card numbers from amazon.com and can punch you right in. What do you say to that incredible deal?
ME: NO! NO! NO!
ROBOT: I have your debit card entered and only need to know your expiration date. Please enter that now.
ME: NO! NO! NO!
ROBOT: I'm waiting for your answer. Don't mess with me. We have other customers. There are only 12 Super-Duper flashlights that glow in the dark. Now there are only 10 left. Only 7. They are going fast. Are you with me?
ME: CANCEL! CANCEL! CANCEL!
AGENT: Sorry again. Now where were we? Hello. Hello. Hello. Where are you? Oh shit. Another one of those!
Sunday, July 23, 2017
How Can You Sell Your Screenplay To A Hollywood Studio In Six Weeks?
First by thinking outside the box. Normally, one would have an agent who has studio contact with a producer and decides to option your screenplay for a year. I had that happen years ago with Sidney Glazer. He won an Academy Award for producing "The Eleanor Roosevelt Story." But Glazer decided he didn't like "The Great American Hoax" after all, and threw my 100 page script across the room as he lay on a couch with a vinegar rag on his forehead. A real schmuck!
When a young filmmaker in New York City came to me for advice, let's call him George because he became famous, he said he was headed for Hollywood with $10,000 in his bank. How should he spend it out there in order to make his first movie with a script he had written.
I told George not to waste his time and money. The dollars would all be gone in a few months for food, rent and other expenses. Instead, he should use the money to rent a classy limousine with a uniformed chauffeur, dress himself looking spiffy and visit the major studios one at a time.
When his expensive limo pulls up to the gate, tell the guard you want to rent a studio to produce your first movie. Wait until the guard gets off the phone and you'll have directions to enter and drive to one of the huildings with offices. There, you will meet an executive salesman who handles studio stage rentals. He will ask for a copy of your script and be impressed with one of your engraved business cards.
This is the procedure I advised George to take. He did and found the welcome mat at three of five studios. Studio number one decided to make him an offer: rather than than rent their facilities, a crew, editing rooms and all the other expenses, why not just produce his movie under their banner. They would pay all expenses, in addition to a producer's salary, that would also include an office to work in and a cottage nearby to live in. Profits would be shared fifty -fifty from the first dollar.
What I just described was over a six week period. George was down to has last $200 when he signed the contract and received a studio check for $1,500,000. He was sweating profusely when he deposited the money in his bank. George couldn't believe his good fortune. He made his first movie, then three more, got married, had three kids and is happily living in a huge Beverly Hills home.
I believe this scenario could still work again. So you wannabes consider the potential. But don't fall for the sucker trap option. Your creative efforts will be tied up for a year or more, nothing will happen and you'll continue having dinners out at MacDonald's.
There are actually thousands of screenplays on studio shelves. I've seen them and heard sad stories from college graduates with film degrees bagging groceries, moving back home with parents. Don't let that happen to you!
When a young filmmaker in New York City came to me for advice, let's call him George because he became famous, he said he was headed for Hollywood with $10,000 in his bank. How should he spend it out there in order to make his first movie with a script he had written.
I told George not to waste his time and money. The dollars would all be gone in a few months for food, rent and other expenses. Instead, he should use the money to rent a classy limousine with a uniformed chauffeur, dress himself looking spiffy and visit the major studios one at a time.
When his expensive limo pulls up to the gate, tell the guard you want to rent a studio to produce your first movie. Wait until the guard gets off the phone and you'll have directions to enter and drive to one of the huildings with offices. There, you will meet an executive salesman who handles studio stage rentals. He will ask for a copy of your script and be impressed with one of your engraved business cards.
This is the procedure I advised George to take. He did and found the welcome mat at three of five studios. Studio number one decided to make him an offer: rather than than rent their facilities, a crew, editing rooms and all the other expenses, why not just produce his movie under their banner. They would pay all expenses, in addition to a producer's salary, that would also include an office to work in and a cottage nearby to live in. Profits would be shared fifty -fifty from the first dollar.
What I just described was over a six week period. George was down to has last $200 when he signed the contract and received a studio check for $1,500,000. He was sweating profusely when he deposited the money in his bank. George couldn't believe his good fortune. He made his first movie, then three more, got married, had three kids and is happily living in a huge Beverly Hills home.
I believe this scenario could still work again. So you wannabes consider the potential. But don't fall for the sucker trap option. Your creative efforts will be tied up for a year or more, nothing will happen and you'll continue having dinners out at MacDonald's.
There are actually thousands of screenplays on studio shelves. I've seen them and heard sad stories from college graduates with film degrees bagging groceries, moving back home with parents. Don't let that happen to you!
CNN COMMENTATOR JAKE TAPPER VS. WHITE HOUSE COMMUNICATIONS DIRECTOR ANTHONY SCARAMUCCI
The rhetoric between these two power balls on CNN Sunday July 23, 2017 was historic and bombastic. Both guys probably deserve to be spanked for upsetting the verbal apple cart. Perhaps NEW YORK TIMES writer Maureen Dowd said it best: '"President Trump
has finally found a courtier who can give him the buttery, boundless
respect he craves. A wealthy mini-me Manhattan bro with wolfy smile and
slick coif who will say anything and flip any position. A self-promoter
extraordinaire and master salesman who doesn’t mind pushing a bad
product — and probably sees it as more fun. For ego gratification, Trump
has struck gold — or Goldman Sachs — with his appointment of Wall
Street hedge fund guy and cable TV diva Anthony Scaramucci
as White House communications director. The Mogul and the Mooch is a
tender love story with dramatic implications for the imploding White
House."
Wow! Try and top that quote! Although Ms. Dowd is certainly vulerable. For example, during the Denver Democratic Convention in 2008, she waited in the long line to interview Lena Tessa Potapova carrying a protest sign: 38 MILLION BIRD WATCHERS ARE VOYEURS! PERVERTS, LET THE BIRDS HUMP IN PRIVATE!
Jake Tapper is no slouch when it comes to debating a political hacker. Tapper is also a clever cartoonist, just as Scaramucci excels in selling his snake oil and sniffing Trump's behind doggie fashion.
Now the whole world waits impatiently for the final curtain, when Humpty Trumpty takes his fall off the Mexican/American wall. As he lies (pun intended) on the ground, one hand is raised in the Nazi salute and the other clutches a well worn copy of "Mein Kampf."
If you paid a big price for this ringside saga there are no refunds. But there is hope!
Wow! Try and top that quote! Although Ms. Dowd is certainly vulerable. For example, during the Denver Democratic Convention in 2008, she waited in the long line to interview Lena Tessa Potapova carrying a protest sign: 38 MILLION BIRD WATCHERS ARE VOYEURS! PERVERTS, LET THE BIRDS HUMP IN PRIVATE!
Jake Tapper is no slouch when it comes to debating a political hacker. Tapper is also a clever cartoonist, just as Scaramucci excels in selling his snake oil and sniffing Trump's behind doggie fashion.
Now the whole world waits impatiently for the final curtain, when Humpty Trumpty takes his fall off the Mexican/American wall. As he lies (pun intended) on the ground, one hand is raised in the Nazi salute and the other clutches a well worn copy of "Mein Kampf."
If you paid a big price for this ringside saga there are no refunds. But there is hope!
Monday, July 17, 2017
Sean Spicer's Very First White House Press Conference
INTERIOR OF THE WHITE HOUSE PRESS ROOM JANUARY 10, 2017
REPORTER: Thank you for remembering my name. By the way, how do you pronounce yours? And I have a follow up question.
SPICER: Ahh. it's pronounced Sean as in braun. And Spicer as in Shicer. What is your follow up question?
REPORTER: How do you spell your name?
SPICER: S as in STUPID, E as in ENEMA, A as in APATHY and N as in NERD. That's SEAN, my first name. Now what was your other question?
REPORTER: How do you spell your last name?
SPICER: Ahh. S as in SHLEP, P as in POOP, I as in IDIOT, C as in CRUD, E as in ENEMY and R as in ROTTEN.
REPORTER: My name is Robinson and I'm with the Associated Press and....
SPICER: (INTERRUPTING) Ahh. We don't fake take news from the Associated Press, ahh I mean fake jews, I mean gnus, I mean, never mind. Next.
REPORTER: Have you ever been psychoanalized?
SPICER: No. Have you?
REPORTER: Oh, many times.
SPICER: How would you describe yourself?
REPORTER: Probably a nut job.
SPICER: Our time is up. Thank you all for coming. Don't bother tomorrow. We're having all the locks changed and President Rump, I mean Hump, I mean Dump Trump will have the only gold plated key.
Sunday, July 9, 2017
Why Did Vernon Duke Steal "April In Paris?"
It was for the 1932 Broadway Show, "Walk A Little Faster." The show was a smash hit and subsequently, Duke and his estate earned millions of dollars. So who was the legitimate author? Did he copyright "April In Paris?" Did he ever sue Vernon Duke? Why not? What's his name?
His name is the Black Throated Green Warbler, he still lives in the Connecticut trees and has been singing "April In Paris" for over two-hundred years! Ask any member of the Audubon Society because they have recordings for verification. But they too are as impotent as the United Nations.
I have attempted to find a pro bono attorney over the past forty years who is willing to file a law suit in Federal Court against Vernon Duke's estate, demanding a full accounting and a seven figure payment to all Black Throated Green Warblers. The legal community feels threatened by those sweet little birds who have been screwed. That is, no retainer fee up front is available.
As a pro se, I could institute legal action. But the goody two shoes perverted bird watchers would band together as Friends of the Court and stall my case for years, forcing me to either drop my suit or declare bankruptcy. I prefer to sit it out and wait for some young buck freshly out of law school who is really compassionate about obtaining justice for the birds.
Another negative factor is the ancient Copyright Law. It was slightly updated in 1978, allowing authors to retain rights until they die, plus seventy-five years. And there's no jail time for plagiarism. Just a slap on the wrist ("don't you ever do that again!") and a $1,000 fine. Maybe. If the thief cries a little, the judge can sentence him or her to 90 days of Community Service.
When I once had an ad campaign plagiarized, the perpetrator was traced to Claremont, California where he operated a gift shop, with a printing press in the back room. Hmmmmm. And he was distributing my original work nationally as his own! One big display was in a ground floor show window of the Empire State Building. What balls!
I visited the FBI and an agent gave me number 2,409. That was how many copyright cases were ahead of me for their investigation. Three years later the agent called. They found the culprit had sold his store and moved back to Mexico. Extradition was not possible. Only for rapists, killers and terrorists.
Where can I contribute to build that wall?
His name is the Black Throated Green Warbler, he still lives in the Connecticut trees and has been singing "April In Paris" for over two-hundred years! Ask any member of the Audubon Society because they have recordings for verification. But they too are as impotent as the United Nations.
I have attempted to find a pro bono attorney over the past forty years who is willing to file a law suit in Federal Court against Vernon Duke's estate, demanding a full accounting and a seven figure payment to all Black Throated Green Warblers. The legal community feels threatened by those sweet little birds who have been screwed. That is, no retainer fee up front is available.
As a pro se, I could institute legal action. But the goody two shoes perverted bird watchers would band together as Friends of the Court and stall my case for years, forcing me to either drop my suit or declare bankruptcy. I prefer to sit it out and wait for some young buck freshly out of law school who is really compassionate about obtaining justice for the birds.
Another negative factor is the ancient Copyright Law. It was slightly updated in 1978, allowing authors to retain rights until they die, plus seventy-five years. And there's no jail time for plagiarism. Just a slap on the wrist ("don't you ever do that again!") and a $1,000 fine. Maybe. If the thief cries a little, the judge can sentence him or her to 90 days of Community Service.
When I once had an ad campaign plagiarized, the perpetrator was traced to Claremont, California where he operated a gift shop, with a printing press in the back room. Hmmmmm. And he was distributing my original work nationally as his own! One big display was in a ground floor show window of the Empire State Building. What balls!
I visited the FBI and an agent gave me number 2,409. That was how many copyright cases were ahead of me for their investigation. Three years later the agent called. They found the culprit had sold his store and moved back to Mexico. Extradition was not possible. Only for rapists, killers and terrorists.
Where can I contribute to build that wall?
Friday, July 7, 2017
The Wizard Of Odd and For Whom the Bells Tolled
If this blog was a trivia contest, you would immediately know the title refers to DONALD TRUMP. This pathological liar has both skimmed and scammed the American public all the way to the White House, with help from fellow conspirator Vladimir Putin. Both of these rogues should be arrested for high crimes and tried at The Hague.
Then they would be hanged in public for all to see. And that's when the bells will toll. Not in memory, but in misery. Americans have all suffered during Trump's destructive dictatorship, his empty promises, vitriolic rhetoric, and now our guilt we let it last so long.
We are living in the greatest country in the world. More or less. More because we are free to hate and act stupid. Less because Jim Crow and Anti-Semitism prevail. Will we ever learn? Probably not. All those who voted for Trump should be hanging their heads in shame.
America is a country that can forgive and forget. From one generation to the next. There have been questions about Senator Joe McCarthy, General Ike Eisenhower and General George Patton on JEOPARDY that the smarties didn't know.
But we will always remember Pearl Harbor, John F. Kennedy, the 9/11 tragedy and Adam Lanza's brutality in murdering all those beautiful children. Thankfully, he committed suicide.
Nor can we ever forget the horrendous Ponzi scheme by Bernard Madoff. This former president of the New York Stock Exchange lived high on the hog for many years, stealing thousands of people's savings and forcing them to live in homeless shelters. He is spending the 150 year sentence in a maximum security prison; that's the life of his penis, not the rest of his miserable body.
Finally, let me leave you with the wisdom of Mrs.Yetta Bronstein, former independent candidate for President of the United States in 1964, when queried by reporters Huntley and Brinkley about her position on civil rights. She replied, "If we all can be civil, then we'll be right."
Then they would be hanged in public for all to see. And that's when the bells will toll. Not in memory, but in misery. Americans have all suffered during Trump's destructive dictatorship, his empty promises, vitriolic rhetoric, and now our guilt we let it last so long.
We are living in the greatest country in the world. More or less. More because we are free to hate and act stupid. Less because Jim Crow and Anti-Semitism prevail. Will we ever learn? Probably not. All those who voted for Trump should be hanging their heads in shame.
America is a country that can forgive and forget. From one generation to the next. There have been questions about Senator Joe McCarthy, General Ike Eisenhower and General George Patton on JEOPARDY that the smarties didn't know.
But we will always remember Pearl Harbor, John F. Kennedy, the 9/11 tragedy and Adam Lanza's brutality in murdering all those beautiful children. Thankfully, he committed suicide.
Nor can we ever forget the horrendous Ponzi scheme by Bernard Madoff. This former president of the New York Stock Exchange lived high on the hog for many years, stealing thousands of people's savings and forcing them to live in homeless shelters. He is spending the 150 year sentence in a maximum security prison; that's the life of his penis, not the rest of his miserable body.
Finally, let me leave you with the wisdom of Mrs.Yetta Bronstein, former independent candidate for President of the United States in 1964, when queried by reporters Huntley and Brinkley about her position on civil rights. She replied, "If we all can be civil, then we'll be right."
Tuesday, June 27, 2017
Why Is Jimmy Kimmel a Plagiarist?
Because he stole my copyrighted campaign for clothing naked horses with horse pants. I proclaimed "a nude horse is a rude horse" in 1959 and had my book about SINA, the Society for Indecency to Naked Animals, published by TRIDENT PRESS ("The Great American Hoax") in 1965.
Paramount Pictures optioned the book for a movie to be produced by Martin Ritt ("Hud") that was to star Jack Lemmon and directed by Carl Reiner. Ira Wallach wrote the screenplay while his Broadway show, "Absence of a Cello," was engaged in a successful run.
Unfortunately, Ritt passed away and the film project was abandoned by Paramount. It was later optioned again by producer Sidney Glazier. He won an Academy Award for his documentary, "The Eleanor Roosevelt Story." However, he didn't like the screenplay that my wife and I had written. so that was strike two.
Enter the arena Woody Allen. He wrote me a letter asking to see the screenplay. We wanted to do another draft. Woody lost interest for other projects he had on back burners. Then Cary Grant expressed interest but became too involved with a movie of his own and Faberge, a company he held an interest in.
Dustin Hoffman's lawyer called during the 90's to inquire about film rights. I met with Dustin's writing staff in New York City. After a few weeks they said they couldn't find the "hook" for developing a movie. That was strike three. We were back at square one.
Suddenly, in 2016, Jimmy Kimmel appeared before the "Sharks" television show with a horse wearing Bermuda shorts and his sidekick, the Mexican midget. They wanted to raise money to clothe animals for the sake of decency! That night, the horse pants saga was displayed again on Jimmy Kimmel's show, without permission, payment or credit to the property rights owner.
Since ABC Television is owned by The Disney Company, they will soon be sued for copyright infringement in a class action lawsuit. Additional plaintiffs are being lined up so that the RICO ACT would prevail. That's a criminal act leading to hefty fines and prison time for the executives.
Filing the lawsuit in Federal Court and obtaining Examinations Before Trial will lead to heavy duty media coverage. So stay tuned!
Paramount Pictures optioned the book for a movie to be produced by Martin Ritt ("Hud") that was to star Jack Lemmon and directed by Carl Reiner. Ira Wallach wrote the screenplay while his Broadway show, "Absence of a Cello," was engaged in a successful run.
Unfortunately, Ritt passed away and the film project was abandoned by Paramount. It was later optioned again by producer Sidney Glazier. He won an Academy Award for his documentary, "The Eleanor Roosevelt Story." However, he didn't like the screenplay that my wife and I had written. so that was strike two.
Enter the arena Woody Allen. He wrote me a letter asking to see the screenplay. We wanted to do another draft. Woody lost interest for other projects he had on back burners. Then Cary Grant expressed interest but became too involved with a movie of his own and Faberge, a company he held an interest in.
Dustin Hoffman's lawyer called during the 90's to inquire about film rights. I met with Dustin's writing staff in New York City. After a few weeks they said they couldn't find the "hook" for developing a movie. That was strike three. We were back at square one.
Suddenly, in 2016, Jimmy Kimmel appeared before the "Sharks" television show with a horse wearing Bermuda shorts and his sidekick, the Mexican midget. They wanted to raise money to clothe animals for the sake of decency! That night, the horse pants saga was displayed again on Jimmy Kimmel's show, without permission, payment or credit to the property rights owner.
Since ABC Television is owned by The Disney Company, they will soon be sued for copyright infringement in a class action lawsuit. Additional plaintiffs are being lined up so that the RICO ACT would prevail. That's a criminal act leading to hefty fines and prison time for the executives.
Filing the lawsuit in Federal Court and obtaining Examinations Before Trial will lead to heavy duty media coverage. So stay tuned!
Monday, June 12, 2017
Why did noted psychiatrist, Dr. Irving Salan, say Donald Trump was a certified nut?
The late Dr. Irving Salan was a psychiatrist for the rich and famous back in the 90's. His cost for an hour on the couch was $300. A high price in those days. The first Tuesday of every month he held an open house party at his magnificant Park Avenue office in New York City . I was hired to entertain the 40-50 past, present and future clients. Also a dozen of his friends in the medical trade.
My internist, Dr. Sydney Kreps, was a close friend of Dr. Salan's and arranged our introduction. We bonded immediately. I appeared at dozens of his monthly parties. Sometimes with one of my "Shills." For example, Pat Paulson who was on the Smothers Brothers TV Show. Pat pretended he was seeking a psychologist to travel with him on the road for a summer tour. Because he claimed to be suicidal.
Dr. Salan's guests caught on immediately and plied Pat with questions that he answered frivolously and hilariously. It was quite an evening of fun. Another time I brought along friend Bob Pagani who was a uniformed guard at Madison Square Garden. Bob could always find me a front row seat when the Knicks played a basketball game. Nor did I have to pay.
Anyhow, I arranged for Bob to appear at Dr. Salan's party when it was in full swing, knock on the door and claim he was looking for illegal aliens hiding in his apartment. With half-a-dozen huge rooms and walkin closets, that was possible. He was invited in to look and the large group of guests became silent and apprehensive. That is, unil Bob and I became involved in sarcastic banter that quickly revealed the hoax. There was good natured laughter and applause.
When Dr. Salan retired, he moved to the farm he purchased in New Hampshire, along with his wife Elaine and two German Shephard dogs. They were docile, loving and very protective when anyone came to the house. Then, both dogs would stiffen, growl and poise, ready to attack.
I visited Dr. Salen a few times as his overnight guest and we would take long walks in the woods with his two dogs wagging their tails. On one walk, just before he passed away, I asked him to tell me something about his patients. "Well," he said, "I'm an MD sworn not to tell tales out of my private practice. I will say that this real estate mogul, Donald Trump, is a certified nut job. No way I could change his mentality. And I certainly tried!"
My internist, Dr. Sydney Kreps, was a close friend of Dr. Salan's and arranged our introduction. We bonded immediately. I appeared at dozens of his monthly parties. Sometimes with one of my "Shills." For example, Pat Paulson who was on the Smothers Brothers TV Show. Pat pretended he was seeking a psychologist to travel with him on the road for a summer tour. Because he claimed to be suicidal.
Dr. Salan's guests caught on immediately and plied Pat with questions that he answered frivolously and hilariously. It was quite an evening of fun. Another time I brought along friend Bob Pagani who was a uniformed guard at Madison Square Garden. Bob could always find me a front row seat when the Knicks played a basketball game. Nor did I have to pay.
Anyhow, I arranged for Bob to appear at Dr. Salan's party when it was in full swing, knock on the door and claim he was looking for illegal aliens hiding in his apartment. With half-a-dozen huge rooms and walkin closets, that was possible. He was invited in to look and the large group of guests became silent and apprehensive. That is, unil Bob and I became involved in sarcastic banter that quickly revealed the hoax. There was good natured laughter and applause.
When Dr. Salan retired, he moved to the farm he purchased in New Hampshire, along with his wife Elaine and two German Shephard dogs. They were docile, loving and very protective when anyone came to the house. Then, both dogs would stiffen, growl and poise, ready to attack.
I visited Dr. Salen a few times as his overnight guest and we would take long walks in the woods with his two dogs wagging their tails. On one walk, just before he passed away, I asked him to tell me something about his patients. "Well," he said, "I'm an MD sworn not to tell tales out of my private practice. I will say that this real estate mogul, Donald Trump, is a certified nut job. No way I could change his mentality. And I certainly tried!"
Tuesday, May 9, 2017
Is Priority Mail Failing?
Yes it is! I was awaiting a contract from Colorado to Connecticut that was mailed Priority Mail six days ago, and it still hasn't arrived! How come? Where did it go? I don't have a tracking number. The sender does, but has not responded to me yet. Meantime, I wait and wait. Who knows how this will turn out?
The Pony Express during the 19th Century required eight days to make a delivery from Connecticut to Colorado. They delivered the mail accurately, i.e. to the rightful person. There were occasional robbers. But the Pony Express had very fast horses and there were Way Stations to mount a fresh horse. The rider could also rest and eat at the local saloon in a hotel or inn.
When I had my own independent record company in New York City many years ago, I had to send master tapes to Los Angeles for manufacturing a thousand 45 rpm copies. Federal Express was new and I didn't like them sending everything to Memphis for destinations elsewhere. Also, a film producer I knew had mailed some original color negatives to his studio via FedEx, and they got lost!
He had $500 insurance on the package, but FedEx required him to produce the original receipts for the negatives. It was an older movie, most of the actors were dead. I suggested he offer to exhume the bodies and take new photos, as proof for the insurance payment. His $500 check arrived the next day. I was rewarded with lunch at "21" in New York.
Rather than trust the USPO or FedEx for sending my master tapes coast to coast, I would drive out to Idlewild Airport (JFK) and look over the passengers traveling to Los Angeles. Then, I would approach a well dressed person in their 30's and ask him or her to deliver my package for $20. (That was about $200 in today's economy).
I did this a dozen times and nobody ever turned me down. Nor did they ever fail to deliver the very next day! All this was way before 9/ll, the Vietnam War and today's security scrutiny at airports.
In earlier days it was possible to drive to the airport, park in a nearby garage, walk up to the ticket counter and buy a cheap ticket anywhere in the country.
So, let's show a little more respect for our parents and grandparents. They had it better and they did it better.
The Pony Express during the 19th Century required eight days to make a delivery from Connecticut to Colorado. They delivered the mail accurately, i.e. to the rightful person. There were occasional robbers. But the Pony Express had very fast horses and there were Way Stations to mount a fresh horse. The rider could also rest and eat at the local saloon in a hotel or inn.
When I had my own independent record company in New York City many years ago, I had to send master tapes to Los Angeles for manufacturing a thousand 45 rpm copies. Federal Express was new and I didn't like them sending everything to Memphis for destinations elsewhere. Also, a film producer I knew had mailed some original color negatives to his studio via FedEx, and they got lost!
He had $500 insurance on the package, but FedEx required him to produce the original receipts for the negatives. It was an older movie, most of the actors were dead. I suggested he offer to exhume the bodies and take new photos, as proof for the insurance payment. His $500 check arrived the next day. I was rewarded with lunch at "21" in New York.
Rather than trust the USPO or FedEx for sending my master tapes coast to coast, I would drive out to Idlewild Airport (JFK) and look over the passengers traveling to Los Angeles. Then, I would approach a well dressed person in their 30's and ask him or her to deliver my package for $20. (That was about $200 in today's economy).
I did this a dozen times and nobody ever turned me down. Nor did they ever fail to deliver the very next day! All this was way before 9/ll, the Vietnam War and today's security scrutiny at airports.
In earlier days it was possible to drive to the airport, park in a nearby garage, walk up to the ticket counter and buy a cheap ticket anywhere in the country.
So, let's show a little more respect for our parents and grandparents. They had it better and they did it better.
Sunday, May 7, 2017
I'll Never Forget The Day Jennifer's Music Teacher Was Arrested!
It was a summer morning and teacher Dorothy was driving three of her middle school students to see the Barnum & Bailey Circus in New York City at Madison Square Garden. Along the way from Westport, CT there was a lot of verbal banter in the Volkswagen "bug." All four were having an enjoyable experience. As Jennifer said, "I don't like Dorothy. I love her!"
They lucked into a vacant parking space just next to Madison Square Garden and enjoyed two hours of exciting circus feats by clowns, jugglers and high wire antics. The band never stopped playing throughout the show and Dorothy, a viola teacher, hummed along with the Sousa marches.
Afterwards, with cotton candy and ice cream cones, they returned to the car and were schocked to see the red roof was dented down about six inches . A note on the windshield said: "Sorry about the accident. When we walked the elephants at intermission, one of them had his own red stool and thought your red car was his stool. We have notified our insurance company and they will pay for repairs." It was signed by the General Manager.
Fortunately, they could all fit inside the car without much difficulty, except for Dorothy who had to hunch her head down a few inches. Then it was off to the nearby Westside Highway, the Cross County Parkway and the Merritt Parkway to Westport. About an hour's drive normally.
But this was not going to be a normal day. As they approached Greenwhich,CT, there was an overturned car heavily damaged. Nearby were several Highway Patrol cars, a fire engine, an ambulance and a pickup truck involved in the accident. Dorothy slowed down, then speeded up to protect the children from seeing a tragedy.
A minute later they heard a siren and saw the Highway Patrol car along side theirs. The uniformed officer signaled them to pull over and park on the highway shoulder. Dorothy did and rolled down her window when the officer came over. He was at least six feet six tall, probably weighed 250 pounds and a handsome man in his thirties.
He asked Dorothy for her driver's licence, insurance and owner's certificate. She quickly complied and then he ordered her to step out of the car. Once out, he patted her down for weapons and then read her the Miranda Doctrine. She was under arrest for leaving the scene of an accident!
Dorothy protested vehmently to no avail. When Dorothy said, "an elephant sat on my car!"
That did it. The officer replied, "Tell that to the judge. You're going to court right now." And so they all went to Greenwhich Municipal Court and stood before the judge. This robed dictator set bail for Dorothy ($10,000), which she posted by check, and her car was impounded.
Jennifer called her dad in Westport to pick them up, which he did, and they all managed to laugh over the unexpected events of the day. Eventually, Dorothy's case was dismissed when the circus management vouched for the elephant's irresponsible sitdown on her car.
They lucked into a vacant parking space just next to Madison Square Garden and enjoyed two hours of exciting circus feats by clowns, jugglers and high wire antics. The band never stopped playing throughout the show and Dorothy, a viola teacher, hummed along with the Sousa marches.
Afterwards, with cotton candy and ice cream cones, they returned to the car and were schocked to see the red roof was dented down about six inches . A note on the windshield said: "Sorry about the accident. When we walked the elephants at intermission, one of them had his own red stool and thought your red car was his stool. We have notified our insurance company and they will pay for repairs." It was signed by the General Manager.
Fortunately, they could all fit inside the car without much difficulty, except for Dorothy who had to hunch her head down a few inches. Then it was off to the nearby Westside Highway, the Cross County Parkway and the Merritt Parkway to Westport. About an hour's drive normally.
But this was not going to be a normal day. As they approached Greenwhich,CT, there was an overturned car heavily damaged. Nearby were several Highway Patrol cars, a fire engine, an ambulance and a pickup truck involved in the accident. Dorothy slowed down, then speeded up to protect the children from seeing a tragedy.
A minute later they heard a siren and saw the Highway Patrol car along side theirs. The uniformed officer signaled them to pull over and park on the highway shoulder. Dorothy did and rolled down her window when the officer came over. He was at least six feet six tall, probably weighed 250 pounds and a handsome man in his thirties.
He asked Dorothy for her driver's licence, insurance and owner's certificate. She quickly complied and then he ordered her to step out of the car. Once out, he patted her down for weapons and then read her the Miranda Doctrine. She was under arrest for leaving the scene of an accident!
Dorothy protested vehmently to no avail. When Dorothy said, "an elephant sat on my car!"
That did it. The officer replied, "Tell that to the judge. You're going to court right now." And so they all went to Greenwhich Municipal Court and stood before the judge. This robed dictator set bail for Dorothy ($10,000), which she posted by check, and her car was impounded.
Jennifer called her dad in Westport to pick them up, which he did, and they all managed to laugh over the unexpected events of the day. Eventually, Dorothy's case was dismissed when the circus management vouched for the elephant's irresponsible sitdown on her car.
Thursday, April 20, 2017
The Side Effects Will Kill You!
I've seen far too many new drugs advertised on TV, in newspapers and magazines, that will cure everything from Obstructive Sleep Apnea (OSA) to severe incontinence. The manufacturers, such as Pfizer, make millions and even billions, without losing sleep or having to urinate three times a night.
It seems very disingenuous for the profiteers to earn six figure salaries, say over the past two decades and climbing higher, but they still haven't cured even the common cold. What are they waiting for? How many more patients have to die, just waiting for a doctor's appointment? Especially at VA Hospitals.
General Trump (yes, he is our Commander-in-Chief), claims he can fix anything. He is also good at saying "you're fired" and his salute is that of a seasoned military man. Very short, sharp and snappy. Just wait until he gets five stars and then outranks the late General Eisenhower, supreme commander of all our armies in World War II. Then he'll nuke North Korea back to the stone age.
But I'm getting off the subject. Xaralto promises to replace warfarin pills for blood thinning, to avoid blood clots. However, don't count your lucky stars yet. The ads warn customers they can't drop their pants for a shot of pills if they have an artificial heart valve. Otherwise they could suffer a heart attack, kidney stoppage, internal bleeding, shortness of breath, vomiting, headaches, dizziness and fainting. And then they would die.
So I'll stay with my warfarin and take my chances. I have an excellent urologist who is considered one of Connecticut's best. He is also Chairman of the Norwalk Hospital Urology Department. And his office is a beehive of activity with patients coming and going, in both senses of the words. Hmmmmm. No pun intended.
Recently I had a cystoscopy performed by the good doctor in his office. I could have selected the hospital, but there is too much paperwork, prior preparation, anesthesia and staying overnight. Although I don't like the size or look of the device he uses to examine my bladder, and then zap any growths that look malignant, the procedure was over in 20 minutes. No pain, no shame. Just a smaller instrument next time doc, please, in six months.
This is my 143rd Blog, Questionable Commentaries, and I will have 200 by the end of this year. Are you listening advertisers? Meantime, check out my lawsuit against President Trump well defined in the April 14, 2017 issue of NEWSWEEK Magazine by reporter Zach Schonfeld.
It seems very disingenuous for the profiteers to earn six figure salaries, say over the past two decades and climbing higher, but they still haven't cured even the common cold. What are they waiting for? How many more patients have to die, just waiting for a doctor's appointment? Especially at VA Hospitals.
General Trump (yes, he is our Commander-in-Chief), claims he can fix anything. He is also good at saying "you're fired" and his salute is that of a seasoned military man. Very short, sharp and snappy. Just wait until he gets five stars and then outranks the late General Eisenhower, supreme commander of all our armies in World War II. Then he'll nuke North Korea back to the stone age.
But I'm getting off the subject. Xaralto promises to replace warfarin pills for blood thinning, to avoid blood clots. However, don't count your lucky stars yet. The ads warn customers they can't drop their pants for a shot of pills if they have an artificial heart valve. Otherwise they could suffer a heart attack, kidney stoppage, internal bleeding, shortness of breath, vomiting, headaches, dizziness and fainting. And then they would die.
So I'll stay with my warfarin and take my chances. I have an excellent urologist who is considered one of Connecticut's best. He is also Chairman of the Norwalk Hospital Urology Department. And his office is a beehive of activity with patients coming and going, in both senses of the words. Hmmmmm. No pun intended.
Recently I had a cystoscopy performed by the good doctor in his office. I could have selected the hospital, but there is too much paperwork, prior preparation, anesthesia and staying overnight. Although I don't like the size or look of the device he uses to examine my bladder, and then zap any growths that look malignant, the procedure was over in 20 minutes. No pain, no shame. Just a smaller instrument next time doc, please, in six months.
This is my 143rd Blog, Questionable Commentaries, and I will have 200 by the end of this year. Are you listening advertisers? Meantime, check out my lawsuit against President Trump well defined in the April 14, 2017 issue of NEWSWEEK Magazine by reporter Zach Schonfeld.
Wednesday, April 19, 2017
The Reason Why I Chose To Be Disobedient And Challenge The Establishment!
More than six decades ago when I was studying music at Ohio State University.
M.E. Wilson was a stodgy sour puss in his sixties who lectured on music history
before an auditorium class of 200 freshmen and sophomores. I was one of the latter,
bored by the professor's salty attitude.
Wilson never hesitated to insult someone. During one session, an attractive
female student quietly left her seat and tiptoed towards an exit door.
"Where the hell are you going?" He shouted: "Nobody leaves this
class while I am speaking! Do you hear me?" The young lady calmly answered, "I have to go to the bathroom." And
she exited through the door as Wilson continued rambling on about Mozart who
never wrote a march.
"Whoa!" I said and I stood up for emphasis.
"Mozart wrote several marches. My friend Lee Briskin is a pianist and I'll
ask her to play one now." Lee obliged, the students applauded, I smiled
broadly as Wilson just sulked. He
also looked at me with daggers.
This course was required. We had a written exam at the end of the three-month
term and I felt confident I would receive an A or B, because I knew the
answers. A week later I received a letter from the chairman of the Music
Department, Eugene Weigel, stating I had failed the course and would have to
take it again!
No way Jose, I thought. I'm not going to sit through an hour a week for three
months listening to the SOB who never knew Mozart also composed marches. The
errors in my final exam were: interchanging the definitions of Maestoso and
Religioso. Also, I had scored a 16 bar sample melody using parallel fifths, a
definite no-no in music at Ohio State University. I defied their
traditional approach to music.
To add insult to injury, M.E. Wilson had scrawled a large F on my exam and
wrote: "Anybody who confuses the definition of Maestoso and
Religioso or uses parallel fifths, will not receive a passing grade. Mr. Abel,
you are disobedient!"
That's when I switched my major to Communications and concentrated on creating
allegorical satire. I was already considered class clown and voted BMOC (Big
Man On Campus), with a large photo hanging in the Student Union.
My next act of
rebellion was to compose an original piece of music, using many parallel fifths,
for the Ohio State University Marching Band. Named “Serenade to a Sand Dune,” featuring the drum line. It was played during a halftime football game and again at the Rose Bowl.
According to the COLUMBUS DISPATCH, director Jack Evans said, “Alan Abel's music received the
greatest ovation ever accorded the band. “
This is the reason why I devoted my life to be disobedient and challenge the Establishment .
Saturday, April 15, 2017
It Was A Very Good Year When I Was 13
At the tender age of
13 I had been learning to play the snare drum for a year. Then my teacher,
Giovanni Baietti, said he taught me all he knew. So I had to find another
teacher, although I was already playing with the Salvation Army Band in
Coshocton, Ohio. Population 12,
000.
There were 25 musicians in the band. I was the
youngest, and we played mostly for marches to the town cemetery. An older
drummer, Lewis Bucklew in his 40’s, was cross-eyed and could never stay in
step. He was always skipping to catch up, because we were in the last row.
Giovanni Baietti was also assistant director of the 300 member Ohio
State Fair Band, high school boys representing 88 counties in the state. They
camped on the fair grounds in Columbus for two weeks every August.
Mr. Baietti said I
could be a gofer that summer, even though I was only in the 8th
grade, and to bring my drum along. Also, I would get to stand last in line with
twenty-four percussionists during concerts and be allowed to play “Stars and Stripes Forever.”
I was terribly
excited to be with such a huge band, under the direction of Dr. Louis E.
Pete. He was a 50-year-old
conductor of the Ashland Symphony, had a prominent mustache and would sternly
castigate any musician who didn’t follow his waving baton.
During
the first week of rehearsals I was busy passing out the mail and running
errands for staff members. But I did find time to practice and look over the
music I hoped to play the following year. I didn’t make any friends in the band
because they were all older boys.
Then came opening
night of the Ohio State Fair.
There were 10,000 people in the Grand Stand watching us play a 15 minute
concert broadcast on the NBC Blue Radio Network. I was at the tail end of 24
drummers when a strong wind suddenly blew over all the wire music stands!
In the middle of von
Suppe’s “Morning, Noon and Night in Vienna,” panic prevailed among the young
musicians. No music stands, no music. Dr. Pete clutched his head in vain. He
might as well be trying to ride a dead horse.
That’s when I
jumped into this sea of flying sheet music and fallen stands. Without missing a
beat I began playing a series of cadences mezzo forte as Dr. Pete conducted.
Several dozen staff members frantically dashed about picking up music and
stands. Giovanni Baietti, with a
huge smile on his face, held up a sign reading START AT LETTER ‘C’ ON COMMAND.
Our concert resumed
and ended with sighs of relief. Dr. Pete said, “Drummer boy. You saved the
concert. I could kiss you.” One bandsman shouted, “I’ll bet your mustache
tickles.”
I became Number One
drummer immediately and four years thereafter. It’s called serendipity.
Monday, February 27, 2017
A BAN ON THE WHITE HOUSE BREAST CORPS
The POTUSA has signed an Executive Privilege banning female reporters from attending a White House news conference, unless they display substantial breasts. The women could use wads of cotton, fake breasts or obtain enlargement surgery. The latter for a C or D cup size.
President Trump treasures the women in his family for displaying well endowed breasts, albeit their rumps are non-existant. Perhaps this will lead to more secret visits to the White House by the Kardashian sisters and Jennifer Lopez. They all have ample behinds that are quite remarkable.
One White House reporter who spoke anonymously because he is fearful of losing his seat on AIR FORCE ONE, said quietly on the phone, "When I see the Trump family those gals are really spooky, the way they dress, walk and seldom smile. I can only think of that movie "The Night of the Living Dead." They give me butterflies in my stomach."
So it makes sense for the White House family's women to display what WAL-MART customers would call 'umbrella asses' and also Larry the Cable Guy's audiences, plus millions of TV viewers.
A recent newsletter from the MAYO CLINIC in Rochester,Minnesota revealed a steady rise in plastic surgery procedures to enlarge female breasts.
Twenty years ago HBO programmed a special hour called simply 'BREASTS' that was a huge success and shown many times on all their channels. They followed that cash cow program with one for women and gays called "Private Dicks....Men Exposed." That particular pecker property really gave HBO its best rating ever!
And speaking of gigantic ratings on TV, you can't go any higher than the Academy Awards did on Sunday night February 26 at around 11:15 pm EST when someone surreptitiously slipped the wrong envelope for Best Picture to MC Jimmy Kimmel and "La La Land" was declared the winner.
That news got a standing ovation with cheers and applause that rocked the auditorium. But not so fast. The real winner was the movie "Moonlight" and the folks in charge rushed to the stage for another ovation. The right one of course.
But our hat's off to the Kimmel gang for pulling off probably the greatest hoax in Academy Awards history, thus capturing many millions to see the exploit.
President Trump treasures the women in his family for displaying well endowed breasts, albeit their rumps are non-existant. Perhaps this will lead to more secret visits to the White House by the Kardashian sisters and Jennifer Lopez. They all have ample behinds that are quite remarkable.
One White House reporter who spoke anonymously because he is fearful of losing his seat on AIR FORCE ONE, said quietly on the phone, "When I see the Trump family those gals are really spooky, the way they dress, walk and seldom smile. I can only think of that movie "The Night of the Living Dead." They give me butterflies in my stomach."
So it makes sense for the White House family's women to display what WAL-MART customers would call 'umbrella asses' and also Larry the Cable Guy's audiences, plus millions of TV viewers.
A recent newsletter from the MAYO CLINIC in Rochester,Minnesota revealed a steady rise in plastic surgery procedures to enlarge female breasts.
Twenty years ago HBO programmed a special hour called simply 'BREASTS' that was a huge success and shown many times on all their channels. They followed that cash cow program with one for women and gays called "Private Dicks....Men Exposed." That particular pecker property really gave HBO its best rating ever!
And speaking of gigantic ratings on TV, you can't go any higher than the Academy Awards did on Sunday night February 26 at around 11:15 pm EST when someone surreptitiously slipped the wrong envelope for Best Picture to MC Jimmy Kimmel and "La La Land" was declared the winner.
That news got a standing ovation with cheers and applause that rocked the auditorium. But not so fast. The real winner was the movie "Moonlight" and the folks in charge rushed to the stage for another ovation. The right one of course.
But our hat's off to the Kimmel gang for pulling off probably the greatest hoax in Academy Awards history, thus capturing many millions to see the exploit.
Monday, January 9, 2017
How About Death Insurance For Only $797.49 A Month?
I was just going over my bank account and for the 2016 year I earned one cent interest. Found money! Think of it, one cent interest on my savings for the year! And if I needed a loan, the bank is charging only 3.5% interest. How can I ever get rich as Donald Trump promised?
Notice I used the past tense. He's going down in the very near future. Probably indicted for numerous violations against our Constitution, not his. Just imagine His Royal Highness led away in chains, wearing an orange jump suit, with all those beautiful women crying their eyes out. In case you missed one of my mailings, here is one of the most potent:
Notice I used the past tense. He's going down in the very near future. Probably indicted for numerous violations against our Constitution, not his. Just imagine His Royal Highness led away in chains, wearing an orange jump suit, with all those beautiful women crying their eyes out. In case you missed one of my mailings, here is one of the most potent:
HEIL TO THE CHEAT!
(January
20, 2017 Washington, DC)
FANFARE BY EIGHT HERALD TRUMPETS, EACH
PLAYING SOUR NOTES *
DICTATOR DONALD TRUMP:
(Holding hand over First Lady’s crotch)
“I do solemnly swear to My Orifice that I will
discriminate and insult Muslims,
Jews, Catholics, Christians, Africans, Latins and especially Mexicans, as Dictator of the Divided States of America,
and will, to the best of my
ability, persecute, fabricate and eventually destroy the former United States
of America. So help me Allah, Moses, Jesus and God. Amen.”
-----------------------------------------------------------------
*Eight
Herald Trumpet Players Engage In Hand-To-Hand Fighting, Using Their Long Horns
As Weapons
© 2017 Irwin Leba (212) 714-8298
Thursday, January 5, 2017
You Have 30 Chances To Win Up To $3,000,000!
Wait a minute. Whoa there. STOP! You actually have 30 chances to lose from the $30 scratch-off card. I've won $100 several times. But I've lost at least 30 times! Nothing. Zilch. Buchkis. Zero. They just take your money and laugh all the way to their bank. Yes, folks, that's what the grubby handed shysters do with our money. It's called STEALING.
But under state law, closely monitored by eagle-eyed agents, it's called legal gambling. Every state has the right to screw the public with a lottery or a scratch-off card. Like 3-card monte, you can't win. You can only lose, 98% of the time. But there's always the dream of winning the jackpot. The odds are against it, 175,000,000 to one. You have a better chance being struck by lightning!
Then there is the great sucker trap, "$5,000 a week for life" by PCH, Publishers Clearing House. You know that company by its malfeasance when discovered that all their entries had been taken to the garbage dump. Yes, all these poor people who bought something from the PCH catalog to enhance their chances of winning the big prize. And the winner was probably one of the company's employees who signed a non-disclosure agreement when paid $500 to keep his or her mouth shut.
Remember, the future is now. We are surrounded by cyber optics. Drones are fighting our wars, cleaning our rooms and delivering packages from amazon.com There are no more free lunches. Even the invitations for dinner by investment firms who want to manage your destiny have dried up. Good things never last forever.
But then let's be practical and economical. The cost of a funeral in a plain casket runs from $7,500 to $25,000, depending on the flowers, the church service, refreshments catered afterwards and a burial plot of course.
My instructions are brief and to the point: "Call a taxi, give him a shovel, pail of lime and a $100 for my trip to an empty field. There, he will dig a suitable hole, put me in covered with lime, say a few words of prayer and "goodby." That's it. No fuss, no sadness, no debt, nothing. Perhaps a small sign: i HAD FUN.
But under state law, closely monitored by eagle-eyed agents, it's called legal gambling. Every state has the right to screw the public with a lottery or a scratch-off card. Like 3-card monte, you can't win. You can only lose, 98% of the time. But there's always the dream of winning the jackpot. The odds are against it, 175,000,000 to one. You have a better chance being struck by lightning!
Then there is the great sucker trap, "$5,000 a week for life" by PCH, Publishers Clearing House. You know that company by its malfeasance when discovered that all their entries had been taken to the garbage dump. Yes, all these poor people who bought something from the PCH catalog to enhance their chances of winning the big prize. And the winner was probably one of the company's employees who signed a non-disclosure agreement when paid $500 to keep his or her mouth shut.
Remember, the future is now. We are surrounded by cyber optics. Drones are fighting our wars, cleaning our rooms and delivering packages from amazon.com There are no more free lunches. Even the invitations for dinner by investment firms who want to manage your destiny have dried up. Good things never last forever.
But then let's be practical and economical. The cost of a funeral in a plain casket runs from $7,500 to $25,000, depending on the flowers, the church service, refreshments catered afterwards and a burial plot of course.
My instructions are brief and to the point: "Call a taxi, give him a shovel, pail of lime and a $100 for my trip to an empty field. There, he will dig a suitable hole, put me in covered with lime, say a few words of prayer and "goodby." That's it. No fuss, no sadness, no debt, nothing. Perhaps a small sign: i HAD FUN.
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