Rant #1,052: My Cereal

I eat cereal every morning for breakfast.

Well, not quite every morning.

On Sundays, I usually eat something else. I give myself a treat on that day, and on holidays when I don't have to go to work.

But normally, I eat cereal.

Cereal has traditionally been a cheap way to get a good start to the day.

It was easy, didn't have to be heated up, and mixed with milk, you really got everything you needed to get your day moving.

The same still holds true, but prices have gotten out of this world.

You can easily spend $5 on a box of cereal, which to me, is really ridiculous.

Why does cereal cost so much?

I truly believe that it costs so much because the cereal manufacturers know that it is a staple of our diet, and that people will spend whatever it is priced at to have their favorite cereal in the morning.

I used to have any cereal in the morning, but in recent years, I have some derivation of Cheerios. I was told by a doctor a few years back that having such a cereal would help my digestion, and he was right, it has, so that is what I have.

I prefer the "Honey Nut" variety, so that is what I have every morning.

But rather than buy the branded product, I usually go for the knockoff, unless the branded product is on sale.

I am not going to spend $5 on a box of cereal if I can help it, and I haven't in years.

Even my local dollar store stocks this type of cereal--the knockoff, of course--and for $1, I am very satisfied.

Cereal is a big business, and it always has been.

There are so many tie-ins to cereal, lots of movie and TV links, and everybody eats cereal, so you are kind of stuck.

But I guess in my own small little way, I am beating the system by eating the knockoffs, which I have found are generally every bit as good as the branded stuff is, at just 20 percent of the price.

How about you? What cereal do you eat for breakfast, and have you found that outlandish prices have changed your habits at all?

Goodbye Kellogg's and General Mills, and hello, Malt-O-Meal.

What more can I say ... or eat?

Snap, crackle and pop!

Rant #1,051: Old Friends

I am 56 years old, so I am approaching a milestone in just a few years.

When I was a kid, I thought that 60 was old.

Heck, I thought 40 was old, too, and even 30.

Anybody older than me was old, so friends who had older siblings, well those older sisters and brothers were old in my eyes.

But you see the world through different eyes when you are a kid, and as you mature, you also see things differently.

I have said many times, I am very happy that my parents had me when they did.

I am a true card-carrying Baby Boomer, a member of the transitional generation who was born when the old guard was in power, so to speak, but big changes were around the corner.

I was around when the Kennedys were assassinated, when Martin Luther King lost his life, and when we put a man on the moon.

I am part of the generation that not only wondered and dreamed, but was able to see those wonders and dreams carried out to the fullest.

A week and a day from today, I will be part of probably the last Reunion that my growing up group will ever have, or at least the last large scale one.

As you know, I grew up in Rochdale Village, South Jamaica, Queens, and I was involved in putting together what should be a pretty great evening.

And the reason that it will be a great evening is the seeing of old friends again, many who I have not seen in decades.

Sure, you may not have grown up in the same neighborhood as I did, but we all have old friends, friends that we grew up with back when we were kids.

There is just that special connection with these people, and even if you haven't seen them for years, it's like they never left.

This week, I spoke to one on the phone, and again, it's like we have been seeing each other regularly for decades. I have only seen him once in the past 40-plus years, spoken to him on the phone maybe a few times, but that is it.

It is like we never went away.

The first thing he said was that he gave me condolences on the Yankees' season.

Yes, he remembered that I am a die-hard Yankees fan, win or lose.

Then we got into the gist of the conversation, and it was as smooth as silk.

Tomorrow, I am going to see another old friend for breakfast, another person I had completely lost touch with but who I have now seen a few times during the past couple of years.

Again, our lives went in different directions, but that shared growing up experience basically linked us for life.

Sure, we are adults now, but we truly aren't much different than when we were kids.

The photo above comes from my bar mitzvah, way back in May 1970, and yes, some of the kids you see in that photo will be coming to my Reunion.

It will be great to see them, and I am sure we will pick up where we left off more than 40 years ago.

And it will be fun, because again, our lives may have gone in different directions, but our childhoods were so strongly linked that it's like we never left each other.

I am lucky that I have the opportunity to see these people once again, I really am.

Reflecting back, I really, truly, had a great childhood. There have been some bumps along the road as an adult, but clearly, I really can't complain.

I am truly a very, very lucky guy.

Rant #1,050: Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

I am not much for haircuts.

Evidently, this has always been the case, or so I have been told.

My mother has told me time and time again that when I was born, I had not only a full head of hair, but way too much hair.

This was 1957. I had to get a haircut almost immediately, or people would have thought I was a girl.

As a little kid, I could not sit still in a barber's chair, so my mother has told me that she had to take me to a special barber on Main Street in Flushing, New York, one that specialized in "problem" kids.

I vaguely remember being put in something that resembled a horse and being strapped down into it.

As I got older, I didn't need a special barber, but I still hated to go to get my hair cut.

When we lived in Rochdale Village, South Jamaica, Queens, I had something of a weird hairline at the time, and I remember one time, one barber called another barber over to see it, and soon the whole place stopped what it was doing to look at my hairline.

As I got older, my hairline kind of caught up with my regular growing pattern, and this was the 1970s, so I let my hair grow a bit longer. Never long long, but you could get away with more on your head back then.

And that was good, because I didn't have to go to the barber that much, and this pretty much lasted through high school and college, when we had moved from Queens to Long Island.

My hair was good until about 1981, when it started to come out.

I kind of knew it would. My father is bald, all my uncles are bald ... although my grandfathers both had hair, I kind of knew that mine wouldn't last, and it didn't.

And now, well, I don't have too much on top.

So what do I do when I need a haircut, like right now, where I need a barber to take off whatever I have on top?

I found a cheap barber. It is only $5 a haircut, and it is some operation.

They have about 15 barbers going all at once, and you can get in and out of there in less than 10 minutes most of the time.

I bring my son there too.

They do a good job. I mean, I don't really need anything that great, do I? I have nothing on top, just trim what I have and make the back straight.

My son, who happily has a full head of hair, needs something more, and they seem to do a fine job on his hair.

So right now, I am satisfied with where I go.

In and out quickly.

But for some reason, the spectre of the olden days is still there, and let me tell you, I still hate to get a haircut.

It's just me, I know, but I really haven't changed that much from the kid with the weird hairline from way back when.

It's just that that hairline has now moved up my head, and yes, down my back.

Hair today, gone tomorrow.

Rant #1,049: Mariano's Last Save

At Yankee Stadium yesterday, at 6:48 p.m., Mariano Rivera posted his last save in the uniform of the New York Yankees.

Well, not really, but kinda.

That is when the Mariano Rivera bobbleheads arrived at the Stadium.

What am I talking about?

The Yankees had been touting "Mariano Rivera Bobblehead Day" for months on end, a final, nice sendoff for the greatest relief pitcher of all time, who is sailing into the sunset after this season is over.

The Yankees are out of the playoff picture, or just about out, so after a wonderful ceremony on Sunday to salute their retiring player, this bobblehead day was supposed to be icing on the cake.

However, there was one small problem.

Fans who came early to the game on Tuesday didn't get their bobbleheads, or at least didn't get them until way after they entered the Stadium.

Reports are that due to a delivery problem, the bobbleheads did not make it to the Stadium until nearly 7 p.m.

Early arriving fans received vouchers for the bobbleheads, but reports are that since only a certain number of bobbleheads were ordered, a lot of fans who should have received the keepsake were shut out because they arrived early.

I mean, it was the only reason to be there for some, as the Yankees were drubbed by the Rays 7-0. The game was over by the third pitch of the contest.

What a way to foul up!

Even Mariano, the great closer, could not really save this one.

The delivery truck did.

But like I said at the opening of this Rant, the great Rivera will get credit for this save, even though for once, he really had nothing to do with it.

It is "sexier" to say he saved it than a delivery truck, isn't it?

Rant #1,048: Two to Three to Four to Five to Six, Over and Out

To continue on "My Three Sons," on yesterday's episode shown on MeTV, Katy gave birth to the triplets in one of the classic episodes of the series.

So, one of "My Three Sons"--actually four sons--fathered his own three sons.

That was big news in TV back then, and watching the episode more than 40 years later, the entire episode was very well done and brought a tear to my eye.

It really is hard to believe that these kids today are in their mid-40s.

Then we go from the top of the heap to the very, very bottom.

Last night was the season premiere of "Two Broke Girls," without a doubt the very, very worst sitcom I have ever seen in my entire life.

And yes, it is on CBS, the former home of "My Three Sons."

My wife enjoys the show for whatever reason, so I do watch it on occasion, and last night, I kind of watched it.

The two actresses, whose names I will not use here because they really should be quite embarrassed at what they are doing, are still struggling as the third season of this show unfolded.

A customer tells the dark-haired one that he has been away for awhile, and he asks about what has happened since he has been gone.

Well, the dark-haired one goes into this diatribe about world events, personal events, sexual events, drugs, sex, you name it, without taking a breath for the next three minutes.

When she finally stops, the guy says something to the effect of, "All I wanted to know was if there was anything new on the menu."

Hah hah. How hilarious this is!

About a minute later, we get the requisite--for this show--breast jokes, sex jokes, puberty jokes, male potency jokes ... I mean, this is a real laugh fest, isn't it.

At about the 10 or 15 minute mark of the show, I told my wife that I had had enough, and I simply went to sleep as she continued to watch this tripe.

The show is popular, I will give it that. Why, I really don't know. I think a lot of women like it, because the girls are as slutty as they come ... and it is almost like satisfying a female fantasy by watching them in their adventures.

But what a bunch of garbage. I don't think I have ever watched a show that is so poorly written.

I know that this is 2013 and not 1968, but I don't know about you, but in some ways, I wish it was 1968 again, at least TV-wise.

Television really has become a vast wasteland, a place where garbage is appreciated beyond quality.

And it wasn't always that way, I can tell you that.

And yes, as I am typing this, "My Three Sons" is recording in the other room.

Maybe that show has become my oasis in a desert of garbage, but whatever the case, the Douglases are my type of family.

"Two Broke Girls" needs fixing, and maybe it really needs to be neutered.

What a piece of pure garbage.

Rant #1,047: My Three Sons (and several others) ...

As I said several Rants ago, I record the classic television sitcom "My Three Sons" during the week on MeTV. It is on at 5:30 a.m., and I record it and watch it in the evening.

Just in recent days, the sitcom--which was on an incredible dozen years, from 1960-1972--has entered one of its major story arcs, Katie's (Tina Cole) pregnancy, and eventual birth, of triplets (boys--what else could it have been?).

"My Three Sons" was the first TV show that I could ever remember that had story arcs, where a group of episodes within a season had the same theme running through them.

This is fairly commonplace today, but for the late 1960s--1968 in this case--it was all new.

These story arcs pretty much took hold when the show went to color from black and white and moved from ABC to CBS, and became a solid hit for the Tiffany Network in the mid-1960s and throughout its run.

The first one was toyed with in the black and white years, when oldest brother Mike (Tim Considine) was going to get married to his sweetheart (Meredith MacRae) and move away.

The next major story arc was when Ernie (Barry Livingston), once Chip's (Stanley Livingston) playmate, got adopted into the family, as did Uncle Charley (William Demarest), who took over for Bub (William Frawley) as the chief cook and bottle washer of the family.

This was followed by several other story arcs, including Robbie (Don Grady) getting married to Katie, her pregnancy, Robbie and Katie's independence from the rest of the family, Steve's (Fred MacMurray) courtship and marriage to Barbara (Beverly Garland) and Chip's eventual courtship and marriage to Polly (Ronne Troup).

The more I watch the show as an adult, the more I think the show was popular because people welcomed the Douglas family each week into their homes for a half hour as if they were part of their own family.

The shows move slowly, aren't filled with big guffaws or laughs--was this TV's first dramedy?--and the scripts are as clean as an unused baby wipe.

But the whole thing works just fine.

I can't imagine how a show like this would play out today, but you can bet that the Douglases would be part of a long line of dysfunctional families that litter the TV landscape today.

Actually, I don't want to even think about that, because I like the Douglases just fine the way they are, a typical 1960s sitcom family often put into incredible, but believable, circumstances.

They are welcome into my family anytime.

Rant #1,046: Playboy Played Out

I am sure that you heard that Playboy Magazine has named Kate Moss as its cover girl for its upcoming 60th anniversary issue.

The model will also be featured in a nude pictorial in that issue.

That is all fine and good, if that is what they want.

But the magazine has compared the featuring of this paper thin, often bullimic-looking model to that of Marilyn Monroe, who, as you know, graced their first cover, and was their first big bombshell model, way back when.

It is nice that they picked a model who isn't 20-ish to be featured, I will give them that.

I am sure this will placate the average age of the men who read the magazine, an age group which is at least in its 40s.

But to compare Moss to Monroe is like comparing a Yugo to a Cadillac.

Sure, both have lived troubled lives, to some extent, and Monroe never reached her 40th birthday.

But as far as pure physical beauty, how can you compare the paper-thin and sickly looking Moss to the voluptuous, physically alluring Monroe?

(And yes, I did pick a really good photo of Moss to grace this Rant, but we have all seen the less-then-stunning Moss photos too.)

Yes, Monroe probably had some plastic surgery here and there, but she was a beautiful woman.

She was, and continues to be, an icon of what beauty is, and yes, what tragedy is, too.

Comparing the sickly looking Moss--the leader of the "heroin chic" modeling movement--to Monroe is such a poor comparison, but, ironically, it probably mirrors the times we are currently in.

Magazine sales, in general, have gone into the toilet.

People simply don't take the time anymore to pore over magazines of any ilk, and certainly not magazines that feature the human body, the female human body.

I also just read that Penthouse is in financial trouble, and Playboy has certainly been through very hard times too.

People who want hardcore or softcore porn simply have to turn on their computer, and they can get what they want instantly.

So you can say the voluptousness of the past, when Playboy was almost a necessary diversion for just about every young male in the country, has been replaced by the thinness of the present, when Playboy really is your father's magazine, not yours, if you are under 40 or even 50.

Monroe is a sex symbol for the ages; Moss isn't a sex symbol at all.

And maybe that is the point that Playboy is trying to make.

But I am not ready to give them that much credit.

Rant #1,045: Recheargeable Batteries

As I recharge my own batteries after yesterday's Rant, today I am going to talk about rechargeable batteries.

I have been using this type of battery for the past five years or so, or ever since I got my then new 2008 Kia Spectra.

Why would there be a link between the two?

I bought my car right before the electronics explosion in cars. Today, cars come with Internet, GPS, the works, but back in 2008, not every car came with such devices.

My Kia certainly didn't.

It did come with a hookup for an iPad or MP3 player.

Since the radio in the car is very retro--like circa 1990 or so--I listen to stuff in the car through this hookup, and I use a relatively old fashioned MP3 player to play various disks I have burned on my computer.

It is an OK setup, although I would much rather have a radio that played MP3 disks.

Anyway, to supply the power for the MP3 player, I use the Duracell rechargeable batteries, the ones shown in the photo. I figured that I would spend less money using them than using regular AA batteries.

And it supposedly is better for the environment, too.

These five years later, I am still using the same rechargeable batteries, or should I say, the same three rechargeable batteries.

The original pack, I think, came with at least eight of these batteries, but over the years, I have lost five of them.

One I know I lost the first time my family saw a baseball game at Tropicana Field in St. Petersburg, Florida. I was using one of these batteries to power a camera I had back then, and one of the batteries fell on the floor and rolled somewhere. I could not find it, even though there were maybe 10,000 people at the game that night.

Others I have lost here and there, and one is actually lost in my car, stuck somewhere around my driver's car seat. I have looked and looked, but I cannot find the battery anywhere, but it is in my car.

Anyway, as to performance, the batteries do work.

They are not as good or as reliable as regular batteries, and since I use them every day, they do go out pretty quickly, quicker than regular batteries.

When they are done, you really have to charge them up for six to nine hours at a time for them to reach full power.

Again, these are batteries that are more than five years old, so maybe it takes longer time for them to be charged than new, current rechargeable batteries.

But they seem to work when you give them enough juice.

I have to say that I am satisfied with them, but since I only have three now, I do have to use regular batteries from time to time when they are charging.

Yes, it is a pain, and I have vowed that one day, I will get a radio that allows me to ditch these batteries.

But for now, it is the best arrangement I can think of for doing what I want to do in the car.

I wish I had my own inner set of rechargeable batteries, because right now, I feel a bit powerless myself.

Rant #1,044: You Can't Please Everyone

I am sure that I mentioned this some time back, but I am on the committee which has been tasked with creating a Reunion for the 50th anniversary of my beloved old neighborhood, Rochdale Village, South Jamaica, Queens, New York.

When I got into this, I really didn't think there would be too many problems. I would do my part, and everybody else would do their part, and everything would be hunky dory.

Little did I know ...

Forget about the stuff behind the scenes, which I am not going to get into here.

The stuff in front of the scenes has been enough to alert me to never get involved in such a project again.

I have learned that you really can't please everyone.

If it is not one thing, it's another.

We have had people complaining about the food--our caterer is Italian--with people wanting us to offer a less fattening menu, have dishes for people who are intolerant of one thing or another, etc.

We have had people question our attendee list, because they don't see certain people on there--and I don't mean friends, necessarily, but certain "types" of people, let's say.

We have had people think that even though the deadline for payment has passed, they can send in their payments at any time.

Heck, we had one woman who yesterday, clearly several days after the September 15 deadline, alerted us that she was sending in her payment from Alaska and that it would take at least 10 days to get to us in New York.

There have also been people who have questioned the validity of what we are doing, don't care for certain people, and have given us hell about it.

There have been so many other things thrown our way--and thrown my way, personally--that I really have to ask myself if it was even worth it for me to get into this thing in the first place.

This is supposed to be a happy, pleasant occasion, when people are going to see others that they have not seen in decades.

Yet, many still bear grudges that have lasted for eons.

One guy actually told me that he has held a grudge against me since 1965, and honestly, I barely know the guy!

But with all the nonsense, this thing is taking off like a rocket to the moon.

We have about 150 attendees all lined up, and even with all the nonsense, this thing appears to be the social event of the year for this group of people.

The committee--the four of us--have worked hard to put this thing together, and it appears as if our work has not been for naught.

But all the constant carping and complaining gets to you after awhile.

I, personally, have had my fill.

I know it is going to be a great occasion, but enough already.

I now know, for a fact, that you can't please everyone, or anybody, for that matter.

And I guess that that is a lesson that I will never forget.

Rant #1,043: Missed America

So what do you think of the new Miss America?

Me, I never understood the allure of this contest.

As a man--and as a self-avowed male chauvinist pig--I never understood why the prettiest girl never wins this contest.

And quite frankly, who cares about her brains?

But the latest Miss America has sparked plenty of controversy, and in the same breath, has put the pageant squarely in the news once again.

The latest Miss America is from New York, which should be news itself. Aren't most of the winners from the western part of the country? Yes, I did some research, and the last two (including the newest) Miss America are from New York, but isn't this some type of anomaly?

But the thing that has gotten a lot of people's goat is that the winner, 24-year-old Nina Davaluri, is Indian American.

She is not white, she is not black, she is not Asian, she is the first Indian American to have won this pageant.

A lot of people do not like this, and have made racist comments, saying that she is a terrorist.

Why they are equating her heritage with terrorism is beyond me, but I think that these people are scared people, thinking that minorities are taking over the country.

The woman was born here, by the way, debunking a lot of people who are saying that she is a foreigner taking away one of "our" pageants.

There is a lot of hate out there, but 30 years ago today, there was a lot of hate thrown at another Miss America winner.

Remember all the brouhaha over Vanessa Williams being crowned the first black Miss America? Today is the 30th anniversary of her coronation.

The same things that Davaluri is going through Williams went through, and Williams went through them a bit worse.

Racists said that Miss America could never be a black woman, while some blacks even said she wasn't "black enough" in her features to be considered one of them.

Oy vey!

Williams couldn't win any which way, but about a year into her reign, she was taken out for good by those nude photos of her that appeared in Penthouse magazine, photos that were taken of her a few years before the pageant.

She was "stripped" of her crown, and went on to have quite a nice singing and acting career, one of the few Miss Americas who had successful show business careers after her reign.

And let's not forget that years and years before this, Bess Myerson, the first Jewish Miss America, also went through hell because of who she was, and she, too, had a pretty successful career on television.

The term "Miss America" should mean just that, and if the winner is black, white, green, purple, Indian, Jewish, or just plain WASP, it really shouldn't matter.

And is this pageant really that important anyway?

I wonder if people also think that the competition was rigged, so that the Indian American girl won, just so the pageant would get the press it has not had in the past number of years.

I could go along that line much more, but the people who think that "white bread" women should be the only winners of this pageant are really out of line.

I never got this pageant, anyway, and after the latest episode, I still don't.

ld Nina Davuluri

Read more at: http://ibnlive.in.com/news/indianorigin-miss-america-nina-davuluri-unfazed-by-racist-comments/422450-2.html?utm_source=ref_article

ld Nina Davuluri

Read more at: http://ibnlive.in.com/news/indianorigin-miss-america-nina-davuluri-unfazed-by-racist-comments/422450-2.html?utm_source=ref_article

Rant #1,042: I Don't Like Mondays

Looking back at Yom Kippur this year, I can say it all very briefly:

I fasted, I cleaned up my daughter's old room, and I broke the fast like there was no tomorrow.

Moving on ...

I could have slept today, I really could have.

It was a cool night, and I was very comfortable in my bed.

The problem is that I have work, my wife and son also have to get up to go to work and school, respectively, and the day must move on.

I don't like Mondays.

After two days where I can sleep late, Monday is the day that sets the tone for the rest of the week, where I have to get up early.

On Monday, I have Friday on my mind, and I am working for the weekend.

The brings up two old songs, the first by the Easybeats, the second by Loverboy, and I could go on and on with similar songs about the week, including "Monday, Monday" by the Mamas and the Papas.

But there was another tune, this one not a very big hit in the U.S. but huge overseas, that really spelled out, to the extreme, the stigma that Monday, the first day of the work week, has for many people.

Remember the Boomtown Rats' "I Don't Like Mondays"?

I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if you didn't if you live in the U.S., because the song barely got into the Hot 100 here, making #73 during early 1980.

Elsewhere, the tune was a #1 record, including in England, one of a slew of hits the Irish band--led by Bob Geldof, later of "Live Aid" fame--had there during that period of time.

The song was very American, though, or at least the subject was.

The song was about a San Diego, California, teenager, Brenda Spencer, who one Monday in 1979 decided that she would get out a gun and start shooting people for no apparent reason.

When she was asked why she would do such a heinous thing--she ended up killing two innocent people--she replied, "I don't like Mondays."

Well, most people don't like Mondays, either, but we would never go to that extreme, would we?

Monday is supposedly the day that the most work gets done, as opposed to Friday, when the least work gets done.

I guess people get hyped by going back to work, but by Friday, they are all tapped out.

So have a good Monday. Pace yourself as you get closer to Friday.

And don't do anything rash, like the Spencer girl, who I haven't heard about in years.

I guess she is spending her days in jail, where I would assume the days of the week kind of blend into each other.

Happy Monday!

Rant #1,041: Yom Kippur

Tonight, at sundown, begins the most solemn day on the Jewish calendar.

When the sun goes down, Yom Kippur, the day of atonement, begins, and it also begins a period of fasting, to show Jews' dedication to the Jewish way of life.

You are not supposed to wash, drive your car, shave, or do much of anything that day, but you are supposed to "doven,"or pray, in your synagogue.

Believe me, it is much harder to fast when you are in synagogue, and all the getting up and down makes it that much worse.

The fasting, and the praying, is to show God that you are worthy for another year, and you are showing your devotion to God by your participation.

As I said during Rosh Hashanah, my family does not currently belong to a synagogue, but yes, I do fast, and I honor the holiday and God my own special way.

I am the only one in my family who can actually get through the fast, so I continue to do it, although I really shouldn't do it, because I do take pills for my cholesterol on a daily basis.

But I do get through it the best I can, and yes, I have to say that I do feel better after the fast is broken, as not eating kind of clears my body, and soul, of a lot of stuff I don't really need.

And it is only until sundown on Saturday, when the holiday ends, so it really isn't that bad.

This year, with the beginning of the holiday on Friday and the bulk of the holiday on the Sabbath on Satruday, it really is the "super holiday," if you will. When this happens, extra passages are added into the ceremony, and I do remember days in synagogue where I would hear women crying because they could not eat. Having the holiday on Saturday will make the fast more difficult for some.

Anyway, we traditionally break the fast at my sister's home, and she usually has all sorts of goodies to fill my stomach after 24 hours of having nothing in it.

To all my Jewish friends, have a good holiday and an easy fast.

Rant #1,040: Enter At Your Own Risk

My wife has tasked me with a job that I have put off for quite some time.

 

I have to clean up my daughter's old room.

 

When she was a kid, being a kid of divorce, she spent a few days a month sleeping in that room, and it was made up to reflect her likes as much as I could do it.

 

We used to tell her that she was actually lucky, because she had two bedrooms, one with her mom and one with me.

 

That only worked for a few years, but now that she is 25, the likelihood that my daughter will ever spend another minute in that room is just about nil.

 

So I have turned it into my computer room, my hobby room, my room to keep everything and anything that is me.

 

And yes, it has become a bloody mess since I have taken over the room.

(But no, it is not the mess in the picture provided here. I just used that to illustrate what a mess is. The room is nowhere that bad.)

 

There is stuff all over the floor, all looked down upon by shelves that were designed to hold my record albums, of which I have many, many, and, well let's say, I am brimming at the seams with LPs.

 

I also am using her old chest of draws to store my 45s, singles of my youth, and yes, I have lots and lots of those too.

 

Also, I have recorded CDRs and actual CD albums all over the place, too, and this makes the room look like it was hit by a hurricane.

 

But I like it that way, as I know that everything is where I can find it.

 

The problem is that my father-in-law is going to be staying with us for a week in late October, and the room can’t be a mess because he is not as steady on his feet as he used to be.

 

He will be sleeping in that room on the couch/bed we have in the room, and there really can’t be anything on the floor that he might trip and fall on.

 

I have started the process, but it is a tough one.

It was compounded this week by us having some work done around the house by a handyman. 

One of the things that he did was to paint our son's room, and talking about a bloody mess, that was it.

No, the paint job was fine, but like me, my son is a collector.

His direction is wrestling DVDs, of which he has a few hundred.

To get those out of the room, and to make the room ready for a paint job, was a pain.

The paint job now being done, we had to get everything back where it was supposed to be, all the furniture just right in the room.

The three of us did that last night, but it was a back-breaking pain in the neck. The handyman placed everything nearly back in place, but to get it actually back in place, well, my back ached well into the night from doing that.

And the DVDs aren't back yet. That is the job for tonight.

Back to the other room ...

Yes, it still looks like it was hit by a hurricane, but within the next two weeks, it will be cleaned up.

It often looks like a job for Superman, but I think I can handle it.

I think ...

Rant #1,039: Do Not Enter

Today marks the 12th anniversary of the 9/11 terrorist attacks.

We can all remember where we were when these attacks were going on, and some of us were actually at the points of contact when these horrible attacks happened.

I was at work here on Long Island, and since we do cover government/military affairs here, we were greatly impacted by what was happening just a few miles away from us.

I also remember seeing military helicopters buzzing over our place of business, and yes, even though miles away, the stench of the attack carried over to our air.

We were let out early that day, and I remember my wife and I thinking about our son, who had just turned six at the time, and what type of world he was growing up in.

Life goes on. He is 18 now, and for that matter, my daughter is 25. 

Both experienced the attacks in their own way back then, and both have managed to move on from it.

We, as a nation, vowed never to give into the terrorists, and we haven't. We have rebuilt and moved on as a nation, but we will never forget what happened.

There is a major problem in the Middle East with Syria, and we are now deciding exactly what role, if any, we are going to play in the turmoil that is gripping that country.

And parties have vowed that if we get involved, there will be retaliation.

At this point in time, with our involvement in the situations in both Iraq and Afghanistan drawing to a close, I personally do not want us to get directly involved in anything happening on the other side of the world.

We have lost too many men and women who were doing their duty, but fighting other countries' wars.

Sure, we can keep an eye on what is going on in Syria, but I do not think we should actually officially become part of that mess.

These are barbarians who have perpetrated what is happening over there, and they will get theirs, if not now, then in the future.

Why we are even thinking about getting involved is anyone's guess, although I will bet that the public does not know the real reasons why we are considering it.

If President Obama was sitting here, I would tell him to his face that entering that conflict is not something I would do, and he is going to have to come up with a very, very valid reason to support him if he decides that we should go in there.

I think during the past dozen years, terrorists have gotten the message that we will not bow down to their wishes. 

Sure, things have happened since that time in 2001, they have helped to change our world into a much more cautious place, but the United States still goes about its business.

But to me, its business is not in Syria, and that is why, like many Americans, I fully oppose us entering that skirmish.

This time, let them figure it out by themselves--without our help.

Rant #1,038: Male Chauvinist Pig

Yes, I admit that I am a male chauvinist pig, and I am proud of it.

I like to look at beautiful women, just like most guys, even if they won't admit it.

When a beautiful woman crosses my path, I admit, I do give a look.

Not stare, that would be rude. But I do give a look.

Most of the world's so-called beauties are actresses and/or models, or at least that is what they tell us.

They are the standard of beauty, the standard by which we compare so-called common folk.

Every generation has its beautiful women, and this generation does too.

The problem with this generation's beauties, in my eye, is that they flaunt what God gave them a bit too much.

And if God didn't give it to them, well, they have the cash to go out and get it.

I prefer yesterday's beauties, those that were generally born with it, had it, used it to their advantage, and for the most part, still have it.

Let's see ...

How about Sophia Loren? The woman is old enough to be even my grandmother, but boy, is she one of the most beautiful women you ever saw or what?

Then you have Ann-Margret. We share a birthday (date, not year), but boy, she is so much better looking than I am that it is incredible that this person even walks the same earth as I do.

How about Barbara Eden? She can still fit into her Jeannie costume, and she seems to never age. I guess she has good genes.

And how about Annette Funicello? She left us several months ago, but when she was alive and well, she was probably the most understated beauty on the planet. She never flaunted anything, but boy, did she have it!

And then, we come to the two most beautiful women on the planet, bar none.

One is my mom. She is one of the world's greatest women, because she has put up with me for the past 56 years, and my father for even more than that.

And then, the top female beauty in the world: my wife. Not only has she put up with me for the past 20-plus years, but she seems to get more beautiful as we grow older together.

I know you're saying, "He's just saying that to protect himself," but no, I do believe that those two ladies are at the top, I really do.

Take that, Jennifer Aniston and Lindsay Lohan. Yes, you are beauties, too, but you have nothing on the ladies that I have named, especially the last two.

Yes, I am a male chauvinist pig, and I am proud of it.

Rant #1,037: Race Card

The New York City mayor's race has turned into one of the most colorful political races in recent memory, and there are so many facets of it that this Long Island guy--who is not directly impacted by what happens--finds the whole thing pretty fascinating.

On the Democratic side, you have an out lesbian, a guy who was caught with his pants down, and several other interesting side stories to keep even the most apolitical person occupied.

On the Republican side, you have basically two candidates who don't have a chance to win, but there has to be a Republican candidate. They are as interesting as yesterday's toilet paper.

So back to the Democrats.

The latest volley actually was hurled by the lame duck mayor, Michael Bloomberg, the billionaire who is usually so out of touch with his constituents that he can constantly put his foot in his mouth and come out shining as clean as a sanitary wipe.

This time, however, what he said was right, and it took a lot of guts to say what he said.

On a local radio show, Bloomberg blasted the Republican front-runner, Bill deBlasio, for basically using the race card in his bid to succeed him.

Although a long-time political person, the city's public advocate, nobody really had ever heard of this guy before he ran for mayor, and the interest in the public about him was pretty much nil.

That is, of course, until he pulled the race card, demonstrating that whites can use this to their advantage as much as blacks can, given the right circumstances.

With him badly trailing in the polls some weeks ago to the likes of Christine Quinn, the outed lesbian who was Bloomberg's unofficial choice to take over his post, de Blasio did something that was a mix of genius and racist, if you can believe that the two can mix.

He profiled his family in his most recent ads.

That, in itself, is all fine and good, but people were shocked at the ads and who was featured in them.

de Blasio is the father in a mixed race household, and seemingly the public did not know that his family, his wife was black, and his daughter and his son were of mixed race.

In fact, his son sports an afro that Julius Erving would have been envious of back in the 1970s.

When this came to the fore, people began to notice de Blasio, and he shot to the top of the Democratic polls, which means if this continues, he IS the next mayor of New York.

And on the radio show, Bloomberg called it like it is. He said that de Blasio used the race card to get support, and he couldn't have been more right, even though everybody is blasting him, as they refuse to recognize the truth.

If de Blasio's family were lily white, nothing would have changed. However, since they are a family of color, in New York at least, voters find that quite interesting.

There are actually black candidates on the Democratic side. Bill Thompson is being killed by this situation, and is running third in the polls.

New York City, as liberal a city as there is, sees de Blasio and his family as the perfect mix that they want, one that fits the profile of the changing city. Quinn is still thought to be threatening by many, and Thompson is, well, as whitebread as he is black.

No one says that de Blasio fell in love with a black woman and had a family with her to win this race, but don't tell me that his family's racial makeup did not perk of the ears of many New Yorkers.

So the race card has been used, and Bloomberg--who honestly has nothing to lose by saying what he said--for once calls it like it is.

Sad to say he is right. People will vote for de Blasio based on the color of his family's skin, not on what he has to say, which isn't much different from what Quinn, Thompson, or for that matter, Anthony Weiner has to say.

That is both an indictment of voters in New York City and the entire political process there.

Marketing is everything, and his ads have become incredibly effective in pushing that facet on the voters of New York.

Remember, New York City voters voted in Bloomberg--perhaps the most hated New York City mayor ever because of his elitist attitude--THREE times.

Something must be in the water there, and I am so happy that I can watch this from afar.

What a mess, a mess of all different hues and colors.

Rant #1,036: Post-Holiday Reflections

Rosh Hashanah is over for me.

The holiday is actually two days, but for me, it is just one single day of reflection, then back to the same old grind.

And yes, today is a grind, because I have to go back to work.

And work has been a grind lately, with this massive book we are trying to get out.

Happily, I am not working tomorrow; it will be the first Saturday I have not worked in the last six Saturdays.

But I have to take my car in for service, and that is almost as bad as going to work.

My appointment is for 8 a.m., but I share that appointment with about 100 other guys, so the trick is to get there as early as possible, and be the first one on the line.

And that doesn't guarantee anything, either, because I do believe they work on the cars that were in the shop the night before first.

So I sit in my care for something like and hour or an hour and a half, and then they take my car, and I have to sit in the waiting room.

The last time, I sat in the waiting room for more than three hours waiting for my car to be finished.

I would almost rather be at work ... not quite, but almost.

Back to yesterday ...

It was a peaceful day, really no strain on me at all, which was good.

The holiday, which is supposed to signify, among other things, renewal, came at the right time for me.

I feel like I am totally burnt out. There are so many things going on now around me and involving me, that I simply needed a 24-hour period to completely unwind, and yesterday was that.

While I don't go to pray in synagogue, I do my own spiritual awakening at home, and I feel that that is fine.

Next week, on Friday night, is Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the Jewish calendar, and that is not just a day of renewal, it is a day of cleansing, cleansing one from the past and starting afresh.

I hope that day, on Saturday, is enriching as yesterday was for me.

Cleansed in mind, body and soul, and starting anew. That is the very basic premise of these two holidays, and they come at the right time this year for me.

Rant #1,035: Happy New Year

Tonight, at sundown, begins the holiest period for Jews around the world.

It is the beginning of the Jewish New Year, and unlike other New Year celebrations, this is a very solemn one.

Jews take basically about a week and a half, bookended by two major holidays, to review themselves and where they are, and atone for any sins they may have committed during the year.

This holy period also includes Yom Kippur, which this year begins at sundown next Friday.

As I reflect on the past year, I have not been perfect.

There are many things I would like to change, and now is my time to reflect on them, and do something about them so they do not happen again.

This has been a tough year on me physically, mentally and emotionally, and being an eternal optimist, I am hoping that things can turn around as I look ahead.

Most Jews go to synagogue to pray during this holy period, but others do it away from a house of worship, which is all fine and good.

I remember going with my father to our temple, and spending long and hard days there praying for forgiveness.

I do not go anymore--since my son was bar mitzvahed, we do not belong to a temple anymore, and that is a story in itself which I am not going to go into here--but it is still a day of reflection.

Tonight, we will have the traditional meal, and most of my family will be there, including my sister and her boys.

Then we go right into it tomorrow.

Rosh Hashanah is actually two days, but I will take off from work tomorrow and go back on Friday.

This all leads up to the most holy day on the calendar, Yom Kippur, where you demonstrate your belief in God by fasting and praying for forgiveness.

Anyway, I will take tomorrow off, and be back on Friday.

To my Jewish friends, I hope you have a nice New Year and that the holiday goes well.

L'Shanah Tovah!

Rant #1,034: Close Shave

I hope you had a nice Labor Day.

As I said yesterday, I labored on Labor Day, so my holiday, well, wasn't much of a holiday at all.

Now, on to something else.

Electric razors.

Along with putting on a tie, the thing I least like to do is shave.

It is an annoying exercise in futility, because you can shave all you want, but the hair is still going to grow back again.

But on to electric razors ...

Those are the types of razors I use to mow my face.

I simply find them easier to use than regular razors, cheaper in the long run, and better for my skin.

But every couple of years I need a new one, because I shave three times a week.

It wasn't that long ago that I was Ranting here about the razor I have just had to get rid of, how it didn't have the features of other razors I had, including a sideburn trimmer (Rant #754, to be exact, in June of 2012, so not even two years ago).

But my latest escapade with buying a razor trumped that.

I figured I would go to Wal-Mart to purchase a new one, because I figured that they had a better selection at cheaper prices.

So I entered the store this weekend, all ready to get a great deal.

After about five minutes, I found the selection, and I have to say I was disappointed.

They really didn't have much, maybe five or six different razors.

But what was most astonishing was the prices for these things.

They had doubled, or even tripled, from the last time I went electric razor shopping.

And there is a very good reason that this has happened.

The industry has created another tier for electric "grooming" items, and that tier is the trimmer.

The trimmer is being pushed as the razor to trim your sideburns, beard, mustache, and take off unwanted body hair.

Of course, a regular electric razor can do that too, but the industry figured that they could make a bigger buck by adding in another tier to the market.

So what has happened is that trimmers are now the price that razors were, and razors have jumped in price because of that.

So, the same razor that you could get for $15 or $20 a while back is now about double in price, as the trimmers are now in that lower price range.

So I was pretty perturbed, found the cheapest razor I could find, and still spent, with tax, nearly $50 on this thing. The last time I spent about $40, so I wasn't going for the cheapest razor then, although I know that when my son needed a razor, I bought him a good one for about $15-$20.

Look, I know that in the long run, I will actually save money, because I don't have to go out and buy new cartridges all the time as one would do is they used a regular razor, but $50 in one shot for an electric razor is ludicrous to me.

But at least this time I have that sideburn trimmer built into the thing. Last time, that feature was gone.

Heck, I wish my facial hair was gone so I didn't have to bother with this thing, but alas, as I am typing this, it is growing back.

How I wish that would be the case on my head!

Rant #1,033: Laboring On Labor Day

My place of work takes Labor Day literally.

We are open, and I will be going to work in several minutes on a day that most people have off as a holiday.

And most of the other fellow employees are off on Labor Day, too.

Why will I be going to work?

Very simple.

This is the time of year where we put together our biggest edition, and it is full of various facts and figures related to the area that we cover, which is known as military resale, military stores for service members, their families, and retirees.

We cover military commissaries (supermarkets) and exchanges (department stores) that have been expressly set up for military folks.

The book has to get out, so I labor on Labor Day.

I have been at this job since March 1996, and I have had exactly three Labor Days off in that period.

So, yes, I labor on Labor Day.

It is a somewhat slow day. We are working on getting out the book, but our contacts are not in, so there  is a lack of phone calls.

And since few people in my place of work are in this day, it is very, very quiet.

So while you guys are having barbecues and enjoying a three-day weekend, I am laboring on Labor Day.

Sure, I get to pick another day to take off, but I usually pick one of the upcoming Jewish holidays to take off, so it is like exchanging a guillotine for a firing squad.

One day is to work and to substitute that day for one where you are supposed to suffer really isn't that great a trade off, is it?

So I labor on Labor Day, what can I say?

What I can say is that I am dead tired, and I can't wait for this process to end, the book is out, and we get back to normal.

I have also worked the past five Saturdays, very early in the morning (4 a.m.) so I can work and have the rest of the day to do what I need to do on Saturday, like shopping and doing other things normal people do on one of their days off.

Work, work, work, work, work, work ...

Idle hands are the devil's playground ...

Work, work, work, work, work, work ...

I need to rest.

You have a nice day, y'hear?