July 25, 2025 (Ozzy and Interesting Stuff)

Hi folks. What a week, eh? I can't add much to the hundreds of tributes already posted, but here's an Ozzy memory I haven't mentioned. Lillian and I went to see him at Irvine Meadows on June 23, 1982. We'd been together for a little over a year. Her sister Ann got us free tickets through some guy she knew who met us at the venue. In retrospect, he reminds me of a sketchy guy from the '90s named New York Al who lived in my Dad's apartment building. Ann's ticket guy looked just like New York Al. Lilly and I rode down to the show with Ann and her friend Brenda, who - like Ann - was a nurse at Dr. Winn's office. But when we got there, there was trouble with the tickets. New York Al didn't deliver what he promised, which was "up-close seats", and Lilly was upset about this. I recall her being tearful, because she'd been told we'd have those seats, and we ended up sitting further back. I probably said "don't worry, it's okay." And it was okay because I was with my Honey, and it was a good show. What could be better than that? Lilly was 17 and had just graduated high school.

Brad Gillis was Ozzy's guitarist that night. I didn't like him at the time because it looked like he was showing off, shredding and "tapping" and playing a million notes, and I felt it was a lack of respect for Randy Rhoads, who'd died just three months earlier. It didn't help that Gillis had a SoCal surfer boy appearance. Ozzy as Jock Rock. And of course I didn't like Night Ranger, Gillis's band after Ozzy.

A about a year ago, I saw an FB post from Gillis (appearing inexplicably in my feed) in which he mentioned that concert and said it was his first night with Ozzy - the most nervous show he'd ever played. All of us are in our 60s now, heading toward 70, and we can see the person behind the image better than we could when we were young. Gillis now seems like a nice guy. 

That concert was recorded for Ozzy's "Speak of the Devil" live album. Well anyhow, there's no punch line to this memory. It's just fun (and kind of cool) to think back and remember things and certain people, like Brenda, who drove us down to Irvine for that show. I saw her once more, when Lillian took me to Ann's NoHo apartment around 1986 or thereabouts. I had a beard on that occasion, my one and only time. Me to self: "Good  grief, Ad, why?" I can't stand facial hair now. Even eyebrow growth drives me nuts. God Bless Ozzy Osbourne. Here's Ritchie Blackmore's tribute, posted on Facebook the other day: 

"I had the good fortune to meet Ozzy a couple of times. He was a very humble man with no rock and roll attitude. I think he was very grateful to be doing what he loved. He had a melodic, warm and harmonious voice over hard rock tracks and it worked out incredibly well without having to resort to screaming over the music. A wonderful way of singing. The late 80s was my favourite period but that is just my opinion. His home show was my favorite. It reminded me of Faulty Towers. I make it a habit of trying not to smile and laugh very much but Ozzy made me crack up with laughter on his show every time I saw it. It was so honest. I think that's what people loved about him.
Our hearts go out to Ozzys family. Candice and I share your grief. We have lost a brilliant singer, a great musician and a wonderful family man. Rest in peace Ozzy."

Kind words from The Man in Black to The Prince of Darkness.

In other music news, have you heard the new Alice Cooper album, "The Revenge of Alice Cooper"? It's just been released today, but there was a live stream listening party yesterday, and we're talking the original Alice Cooper group, not Alice the solo artist. I listened, and thought it was doggone good. I'll give it a 7/10 rating so far, and it may grow on me with repeat listenings (not on YouTube with crummy sound but from the CD). The group appeared onstage afterward, at a beautiful church in England (minus guitarist Glen Buxton, who died in 1997), and did a Q & A moderated by Tim Rice of Lloyd Webber lyricist fame. Whoever thought we'd get a new album from these guys, 50 years after "Muscle of Love", and that it would be this good? They're all pushing 80! Folks, I've seen close to 1000 concerts, and I've seen Alice solo 8 times, but I've never seen the Alice Cooper Group. A prayer for a tour is is order. Talk about your Bucket List shows...

I'm re-reading "The Tommyknockers" by Stephen King, a book he's called "awful" but which I think is one of his best. It's about a giant UFO buried in the ground in rural New Hampshire, and what happens to the townspeople when a woman and her boyfriend dig it up.

I'm also reading "The First Gentleman" by Bill Clinton and James Patterson. Have you read any of their collaborations? I read the first two: "The President is Missing" (2018) and "The President's Daughter" (2021), and I'm halfway through this new one. All are great stories, total page-turners, and besides that, I read them for clues...(if you get my drift). Some clues are subtle, and you've gotta be on the lookout to spot them, but others are more obvious, such as the name of the President's daughter in the book of that title:

"Lilly" is The President's Daughter.

And in the new book, there's a character named "Lillian" whose name is mentioned repeatedly. There's also a "red Nissan" in the new one. Who had a "red Nissan?" Why, me of course. Now I have a Subaru, which one of the main characters drives. Okay, a Subaru (no specific color), no big deal, right? Okay fine. But a red Nissan? How many of those do you see? Well anyhow, yeah it's fun looking for clues in BC's books.

I hate to be negative, and talk about unpleasant stuff, but I'm working on my own book, about 2009, and it's opened a humongous can of worms that spills backward into 1989, and 1988, and I'm realizing that what I thought (for decades!) was a 12-day event in September 1989, that I called "What Happened in Northridge", actually began in 1983.

Holy smokes, what a thing to discover (though none of it is a reflection on Lillian, just the bad guys, and we know who many of them are).

We've talked about Newcastle Street and we've talked about Lys, but we need to talk about Pat Forducci. Pat worked for almost 50 years of his life, starting at age 13 at College Records. He took a few years off toward the end, say from 2004 to 2010, but he worked at least 40 years, closer to 45, and he only lived to be 63. Therefore, most of  his life was spent working. 

So why did he die broke and almost homeless? He was one month removed from a year of homelessness when he died.

Because he was the victim of a cult, that's why. Now, Pat participated in his victimhood. He was a member of this cult. But he still didn't deserve what happened to him. The cult left him to twist in the wind, because he tried to tell the truth. They blackmailed him and probably harrassed him until he didn't care anymore.

Pat came to the house I was caretaking in 2009. He was there as part of a bizarre Incident, in August 2009, initiated by his cult, in which I was the victim this time. My book is about the things that happened to me in that house, and the other people besides Pat who appeared there. The house had been owned by a woman named Diane, and was transferred to her younger sister Sue when Diane died in May 2009. That's when I unwittingly became the caretaker. The house is in Reseda, not far from the short strip of Newcastle where Pat, Lys and Sean lived, and it's just around the corner and down the block from the Burton Street house where the late Dave Small lived, with his girlfriend Kelly, beginning in 1988.

I have this thing now called my White Oak Walk. It's a Northridge walk that encompasses a long section of White Oak Avenue between Merridy and Rayen Streets (Google Map it). The walk diverts to Shoshone for a block, and sometimes goes down Halstead to Zelzah, but it's mostly on White Oak and takes in many "important landmarks", including the "Mossner" house. I hate to even mention that horrible family's name (and have slightly changed it) because they were profoundly bad people. I'm just coming to learn and understand how bad they were. You could say they were evil personified. I now believe that certain evil Incidents happened at their house in 1983 and 1984. I know for a fact that an evil Incident happened there in May 1988. But here's the weird thing about that house:

Folks, it's been sitting empty and unoccupied since 2002.

It's been empty for twenty three years, since the Mossner patriarch died. Try that one on for size.

We can ask why this is so. Why has the Mossner house been unoccupied for 23 years? Someone cuts the lawn and maintains the shrubbery. But the paint is moldering, and the electric gate is rotting away. The iron mailbox is skewed and hanging by a thread.

We can ask about Mr. B's Flowers, which burned to the ground on July 19, 2019, after going out of business years earlier. Here is a link to that story: 

 https://www.dailynews.com/2019/07/19/heavy-fire-hits-mini-mall-on-corbin-avenue-in-winnetka/

In case the link doesn't work, just Google "2019 Fire at Mr. B's Flowers in Winnetka, Ca."

We can ask why it took 86 firefighters from 20 engine companies to put out the blaze, as reported in the Daily News story. Have you ever heard of 86 firefighters at a structure the size of a house? Have you ever heard of 20 engine companies responding to such a fire? Read the details of that fire. Read about the "known hazards" in the building, such as "holes in the floor".

Yes, we can ask these questions, but we may know some of the answers.

Thanks for reading. Tons of love. Back soon.

July 14, 2025

Howdy folks. I wish you a Happy Bastille Day in the name of Rush. I'm thinking about Dave Cousins, founder and chief songwriter of The Strawbs (or just Strawbs), who died yesterday at the age of 80. Strawbs were another of my earliest discoveries from College Records. Their album "Hero and Heroine", released in Spring 1974, was recommended to me by one of the clerks, probably Pat or Barry the manager. I was immediately hooked; it was classic prog, with a twist of English folk. "Hero" was their most commercially successful album and even had a track played on FM radio ("Shine On Silver Sun"). I played it repeatedly (and still do fifty-one years later), and it led me to earlier Strawbs albums, found in the used bins at College, that I purchased to complete my collection. "Grave New World", "From the Witchwood", "Ghosts": all are highly recommended. On a side note, one of my favorite albums from those days (and all time) was "Six Wives of Henry the 8th" by Rick Wakeman, and while hanging out at College I found out that - before he joined Yes - Wakeman was a member of Strawbs. 

Is it any wonder he's a candidate for the King of Progressive Rock?

But it was Dave Cousins who wrote most of Strawbs' music, and every song featured his distinctive, throaty voice. I never got to see them live (they toured mostly in England) but I have loved their music, and songwriters like Dave Cousins don't grow on trees. Thus, we remember him today. 

Anyway, how goes your Summer? Are you enjoying the long, lovely evenings? I've gotta get back to hiking (haven't been on the trail in a year, omg!), but for now, I've got my walks. As you know, I'm an Inveterate Walker, picked it up from my parents, and I walk five miles every day to maintain my weight (155, ten pounds less than high school).

Now, get ready for a segue.

During my years as Pearl's caregiver, we went on many walks together, at first to rehabilitate her hip. In the beginning they were short - just around her block to build strength, but they continued and got longer, often at parks with her dog Kobi (who became my right hand man). Toward the end of her life, eleven years into my tenure, our walks involved a wheelchair, in which I pushed Pearl around our tract and beyond, into upper Reseda.

If you know Reseda, you know about The Tract (as the Originals called it), an area of residential homes almost a mile square, devoid of boulevards, businesses, and noise. It's just houses and quiet streets between Roscoe and Saticoy and from Lindley to Louise. The core of the tract is tighter than that, and is centered at Meadowlark Park (which consists of three streets: Keswick, Hatton and Lull), but to rein this story in, one of our favorite walks was a wheelchair push up Zelzah to Cantara Street, and past Cantara Elementary School. This walk is at the heart of "The Summer of Green Parrots", our book published earlier this year. Just south of that school is the short strip of Newcastle Street, which in the 1980s was home to the families of Forducci, Villanova, and Watson (last names slightly changed).

Pat, Lys, and Sean. And also Sean's sister, Kelly.

Our segue leads mostly to Lys.

We've mentioned Lys several times recently. She was Lilly's close friend. I always liked Lys, and have noted that in these blogs. I've even called her a "hero", for reasons that will presently go unmentioned. 

Lys was at the Capitol Records Swap Meet on the night Lillian and I were introduced. I think Malia was there, too, and maybe Luann, but Lys is the important one for our discussion.

Pat Forducci knew all of these girls and it was he who introduced me to Lilly. He claimed he knew them (and her) from his job at Moby Disc Records on Ventura Boulevard in Sherman Oaks, not far from the high school they attended.

But what he didn't say was that he lived, at the time, within a stone's throw of Lys's house on Newcastle Street.

I never thought about this until I started walking there with Pearl.  

On a side note, while I worked for Pearl I came to love Reseda maybe even more than Northridge, and on our walks, when we went down Newcastle, I thought of Lilly as "my Reseda girl" because in our early days she spent a lot of time at Lys's house. And, of course, their famous Tennis Match in the Street is still the stuff of legend. If you're gonna have your car blocked while driving down Newcastle, there's no better way for it to happen. One time, they invited me to meet Lys's parents. Her Mom made salsa. Lys's little sister thought I was cute.

But yeah, at the Swap Meet in October 1980, when Pat introduced me to Lilly, he never said anything about living on the same street at Lys. Nor did she mention it, and both of them were standing there with us. I don't think Pat ever mentioned it in all the years after, and it was only in 2020, when I started walking down Newcastle with Pearl, that I started to wonder if their proximity on that street, and Pat's failure to mention it, was more than a coinkydink.

I'm not saying that my introduction to Lillian was pre-planned (and if it was, Pat and Lys get a Gold Medal), but it just seems hard to believe that Pat could "know these chicks from Moby Disc", as he said on the night of the Swap Meet, and not know Lys from across his own street. Anyhow...

After high school, Lys (I think, correct me if I'm wrong) briefly attended UCLA, where she studied psychology. She went on to work for a major airline (not crucial to the topic at hand), but the reason I mention her is because I'm coming to realise she was "there" at many key points in the 1980s.

Without getting specific, Lys was present at noteworthy incidents in my life in 1981, 1983, 1984, 1988, and especially 1989. Lys was present in the lobby at Northridge Hospital on the day I was released from my involuntary, medically-induced, evil amnesia treatment. Lys pushed me around that lobby in a wheelchair. True story.

Now, I've called her a "hero", and I'm not rescinding that. She, and Ann too, bailed me out of more than one horrendous situation. However, neither has sent me so much as a postcard since. Both just kind of "exited Stage Left". Ann was "Navy", which is Ad Slang for "she had some kind of unofficial affiliation". Lys may have been "Navy" also; she sure was connected to something or someone to get into the places she did, especially that hospital lobby, on that day at that time. I don't begrudge Ann or Lys for not saying "hi" all these years. Maybe they had to sign a non-disclosure agreement or a national security oath or something.

Lys rode along on some of the Clandestine Car Rides in the early '90s, as noted in blogs from last year.

But Lys was also present at some incidents that weren't so "heroic". She had a Sunflower dress that may have been symbolic, and to quote the late Sean Watson, "they call it Free Love but there's nothing 'free' about it". Still, at the end of the day, Lys was (and is) probably a nice lady. Young women can be coerced into unwholesome things. And bad guys can get away with bad things. Just ask P. Diddy.

As for Lys, I'll leave it up to Lillian. If Lilly says Lys is okay, then I agree. And I think Lilly probably does.

Lillian had two purple jumpsuits that were really super cool. One for herself (a cloth one), and one for me (nylon or synthetic fabric). I mean, it wasn't mine, it was hers and she let me wear it (or had me wear it). How I fit into it I will never know. Even at 155 lbs today, I wouldn't get the zipper halfway closed. But back then, in Summer 1981, I did fit into it, we both looked cool, like twins almost, and I always called it a "jumpsuit" (and hers was) but the one I wore, in hindsight, was more like a flightsuit. 

And maybe hers was, too.

It was like we had our own personal Air Force, just me and her, whenever we wore those flightsuits.

Much later, in 2002, I wrote a short story called "Wingwalkers", from my mythical-but-real other life. The story was about my protogenic "child self", a kid called Little Ad, and his wingwalking partner, Vivian.

Vivian was based on Lilly, and perhaps she was Lillian, or once was her, in a mythical-but real other life.

I think Vivian was real. Heck, if all this other stuff is real, this stuff with Lys, and everything else, it's no stretch to believe in Vivian.

Once again, I'll leave it up to Lilly. If she says Vivian is real, I agree.

Thanks for reading. Back soon. Tons of love as always.

Black Sabbath and July 4th

Howdy folks. Did you watch the Black Sabbath concert on Saturday? I didn't stream it, just watched the incoming YouTube vids, but I thought Ozzy sounded great. His voice was better than it has been in decades. He must've trained hard to get it there. I was especially happy to see Bill Ward back, as they'd been playing with a stand-in drummer for the past 20 years. He pounded the skins as if he'd never been away. Its amazing and inspiring when you consider that all the band members are nearing 80 - and considering the past "substance issues" of Ozzy and Bill, and to a lesser-but-substantial extent, Tony Iommi - that all four are still alive. It must be that Birmingham toughness, which gave rise to Black Sabbath in the first place. I first saw the band 51 years ago, at the legendary California Jam (which I've mentioned ad nauseum, I know). I was up against the chain-link fence, as close as you could get to the stage, getting crushed by the quarter-million fans in the crowd. They were the second rock group I'd ever seen live (Black Oak being the first at the same show), and I'll always remember the sheer power of their sound, and the low end that shook your bones.

If you watched their final performance on Saturday, you saw on the faces of the fans how much Black Sabbath has meant to people.

I was (and am) one of them, a fan since I was 12 years old. I was fortunate to see them six times in concert, most recently in 2014. I saw Ozzy several times as well. In January 1983, I got to have lunch with him, courtesy of Jon S., who was interviewing Mr. Osbourne that day. Jon invited me along as the photographer. I still have those pictures, and a tape of the interview.

In May 1983, Lillian and I saw Ozzy at the US Festival - which had an even bigger crowd than California Jam.

Before that, on New Year's Eve 1981, we attended Ozzy's concert at the L.A Memorial Sports Arena. With us were my two then-band members and the late Pat Forducci. Afterwards, we all drove to the Bonaventure Hotel, where the post-show party was happening. How we learned of this I don't remember, but we went. Unfortunately, there was a security guy blocking the doorway. It was my idea to look for a side door, and we found one unattended and unlocked. Yippee! I remember saying, "just act like we belong here". No sooner did we enter than we were talking to Don Airey.

Then we met Randy Rhoads. I still have that picture, too.

We also met Ozzy and Sharon, who had recently become his girlfriend. She looked a lot different in those days.

Wow, what a night! An amazing way to cap off 1981...

Anyhow, I hope you had a nice 4th of July weekend. I went to Shepherd of the Hills Church in Porter Ranch for the fireworks, as always. Before that, I took a walk around CSUN, nice and quiet on a holiday afternoon. I continued south on Etiwanda, down to Rayen, then turned west toward Reseda Boulevard. On the way, at the corner of Rayen and Darby, I passed the "I Love You" house, important as a July 4th honoraria.

Why is it called that, and why is the date important? In part because, on July 4, 1981, it's where I played my first concert. Talk about "Back to the Beginning"...

Now, my band wasn't...(um)...as good as Black Sabbath, but we did play a few Sabbath covers. The important thing was that we had a blast playing them, and we knew this long-haired guy Bill from the nearby Liquor House (located at Rayen and Reseda, where the Northridge Mural now is). Bill invited us to play a backyard party at his pad on the Fourth of July. I mentioned it to Lilly, who had recently become my girlfriend. At the time, she was planning to see Cheap Trick on the 4th. If I recall correctly, they were playing in Bakersfield. But she ended up coming to the party and I was excited because I wasn't expecting her to be there. Lys was there, too, and Pat Forducci, and Jon S, and several other friends and acquaintances. Lilly and Lys mixed and served drinks. Pat got hammered and sang a few songs, swinging the mic like Roger Daltrey. I think I have a Super 8 film of him doing this.

But the best part of the night came when the party was over. Most folks had left. It was probably close to midnight or later. Bill was ushering stragglers out of his house, but Lillian and I were still there. I was sitting in an easy chair by the door. Lilly was on the armrest. At that moment, no one was around, and a feeling arose, prompted by togetherness and the start of a wonderful Summer.

Suddenly, I spoke three words, and Lilly repeated them back.

And that's why it's called "The 'I Love You' House", and why July 4th is a great day. 

Thanks for reading. Back soon. Tons of love as always. 

June 29, 2025 (Movies and other stuff)

Briefly, before we get started, a note on the passing of Dave Parker, aka "The Cobra", who spent time with the Cincinnati Reds, my favorite baseball team. I don't know if we have any fans here at the blog (cause I don't know who reads the doggone thing; I've never had a single comment or acknowledgement in 25 years), but baseball has been my favorite sport (tied with football) since I was five or six years old, when Dad took me to see Sandy Koufax pitch for the Dodgers. Dad lived in Cincy after the war. It's where he met my Mom. He took me to Dodgers/Reds games and said "watch that guy", meaning Pete Rose, who became my favorite player. The Big Red Machine won the World Series in 1975-76 and is considered one of the greatest baseball teams of all-time. Dave Parker played for the Reds from 1984 - 87, after their heyday, but before that, he was with the Pittsburgh Pirates. In 1977, me and my pals used to take the bus to Dodger Stadium. Bleacher seats were three bucks! One time, the Dodgers were playing the Pirates, and big Dave Parker was in right field. Everybody loved The Cobra, even fans of other teams. He could hit the ball out of any park, and had a rocket arm, but most of all, he was a cool guy...easygoing, no superstar ego. On the day we saw him play, we kept trying to get his attention. "Hey Dave! Big Dave! Hey Cobra!" Finally, he was close enough to the outfield wall to hear us. He smiled and gave us a wave.

That made our day. Dave Parker won the MVP award that year. On July 27, he will be inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame. He didn't live to attend the ceremony, but I bet he will be there anyway. All athletes should be as cool as Big Dave Parker.

Okay, now for some movies:

Um...can we start with a list? We usually do Top Tens, and they're always "Best Of", but can we do it in reverse? Something got me thinking about the All-Time Worst Movie Directors. I have a "thing" I've developed in recent years: turning off a movie as soon as it gets bad. I never used to do this. I thought it was impolite: "You chose this movie, Ad, you must stick with it." Of course, any film can have a needless scene, or can drag for a few minutes. When that happens, you've gotta give it a chance to recover. But you sometimes get a vibe, either from the start or a few minutes in, that "this movie sucks" and it's not going to improve. Then you think (or should think), "Why should I spend 90 to 120 minutes watching this when I already know how bad it is?" Life's too short, right? But I used to sit all the way though every movie, no matter how crummy, even when I knew it from the get-go, just because I "felt bad" about rejecting the filmmaker's effort.

But then, about ten years ago, along came a film called "Tideland" by Terry Gilliam. And it was so bad, I just couldn't sit through it. I made it through the first fifteen minutes, but then said "why am I watching this"? And all of a sudden...I wasn't. That's because my thumb had pressed the "stop" button without me realizing it. "Thanks, thumb." It gave me the courage to stop worrying about politeness (and hurting the filmmaker's feelings) and start using the stop button more often. I did it again with "Cosmopolis" by David Cronenberg. That time, I was only three minutes into the film. Geez, you wanna talk a bad movie? Give that one a shot, see if you can last longer than I did.

Anyway, without further ado, let's list our Top Worst Directors (#1 being the champ). I don't know if we can find ten of them, but lets try.

1) Terry Gilliam. "Baron von Munchausen", "Brazil", and the horrid "Tideland" which, on the dvd, sports a disclaimer by Gilliam before the movie starts, where he basically acknowledges that it sucks but asks you to give it a chance anyway. I tried. I couldn't. Do you need any more evidence? I rest my case that he's the worst movie director of all time.

2) 'Twas a close race for second, but I had to go with David Cronenberg. "Crash", "Eastern Promises", "A History of Violence" and (drum roll please)..."Cosmopolis"! A double-dare ya to sit through even the opening scene! Good grief does this guy suck.

3) But I'm tellin' ya, it was really hard not to give the #2 spot to Lars von Trier. Have you ever tried to watch one of his movies? You won't be able to do it. In many ways, he's the worst of the worst, though he doesn't have a "turn it off immediately" flick like the first two lame-o's. Pound-for-pound, however, he's got more ridiculous, stupid and really bad movie moments and just awful movies than maybe even Cronenberg and Gilliam put together. Plus, he's an arrogant a-hole. Go ahead and try to sit through one of his "critically acclaimed masterpieces". I guarantee you won't make it.

4) The guy who directed "The Lobster": Yorgos Lanthimos. He wins for Most Obtuse Director. Watch any of his flicks without going "huh?" and I don't mean in a weird, David Lynch way. I just mean "Huh? Why is this movie so bad? Why am I watching this"? Then hit the stop button and find something else. He won't ever be #1 because his films aren't obnoxious enough, but rock-bottom boring they are.

On a side note, we aren't talking about guys like Uwe Boll or Abel Ferarra, where it's common knowledge that their movies are lousy. We're mostly talking "critics darlings", whose movies are lauded by people with agendas, and hipsters who watch because the movie critics told them to.

5) I wanna put Wes Anderson on this list but I just can't do it because he's a genuinely nice guy who doesn't seem to be deliberately pretentious. It's just that....well, try sitting through "Asteroid City". But I still can't put him on the list. Oh, okay, maybe around #9 or 10. But I'm all out of names to make 10 (unless you can think of some). I just wanted to get these off my chest, and the subject in general, because whenever I think of "Tideland", I cringe. 

I had a great first day of Summer, last Saturday at the Chatsworth Nature Preserve. In addition to the guided hike (with all kinds of info about native plants, trees and critters), I had a blast learning to sing Native American songs with a group watching Martin Espino, a Native American musician and lecturer. Google him, he's awesome. He brings percussion instruments along; I got to play the Big Drum, the Turtle Shell, and the Rattle (it's like maracas). If you ever wanna see what the Valley looked like before development, come out to the Preserve when it's open next year. They only do this one day per year, so don't miss it. It's amazing!

How about a few Tubi movie reviews? I'll keep 'em brief:

"Ted K"(2021), the story of The Unabomber is good as a one-man show. Sharlto Copley plays Ted Kaczynski. Who knew he was so resourceful, or that he got around, travelling to other states by bus, and was a master of disguise? Ted was a bad and violent guy, but I'm not sure he was crazy, and many people agree with his assessment that modern technology has had a deleterious effect on the world. Autistic? Maybe. Sociopathic, for certain. But crazy? No. And, he rejected the insanity defense. Worth a watch for the lead performance.

"Good Kill"(2014) is about the moral question of using drones to kill targets 7000 miles away. Ethan Hawke gives an emotionally repressed performance as the guy working the joystick, but the screenwriter does not confront the fact that collateral damage by warplanes is likely greater than that caused by drone strikes. War is war, folks get killed.

"No Man of God"(2021) is a good one. They have some excellent unknown actors playing serial killers nowdays. Luke Kirby, who plays Ted Bundy, has his mannerisms him down pat, which can be compared to the real Ted's last interview. The problem is that no one can "out-Bundy" Bundy, and if you've never seen that last-ditch "confession" with James Dobson, you should check it out. It shows he was a very good actor himself, and a complete phony-baloney psychopath. 

Two more good "backwoodser" movies: "A Dark Place"(2018) and "A Single Shot"(2013) are both noteworthy for their lead performances, yet both feature some ludicrous plot devices and scenes that would never happen in real life. Still, both are riveting because of the atmosphere and aforementioned lead roles, and are thus the most highly recommended of all these films.  

R.I.P to the great Mick Ralphs, one of my very first guitar heros, who played with Mott the Hoople, which in turn was one of the first bands I got into when I discovered College Records. Check out his short-but-perfect solo on "Ballad of Mott the Hoople", or his work on the first Bad Company album. In addition, Mott and Ralphs looked cool and were the epitome, along with Bowie, of Glam Rock. They made you want to get a pair of platform shoes!

Finally, having remembered "Heavy Metal" as the first movie Lilly and I saw, I was trying to think of the second one. I had to consult my trusty internet movie-list databases (which have been helpful in many respects), and in browsing the Complete List of Movies Released in 1981, I found it! It was "An American Werewolf in London", which opened on August 21 of that year. We saw it at the MGM Studios main theater, which often previewed films, and we probably saw it a week (or a few days) before the general release, and it was a fun and slightly scary movie (though not full-on horror, which Lillian would not have liked).

But the cool thing was, because it was at MGM, I got to show her through the lab! Lilly got to see where I worked, and I remember leading her through the positive developing room, which was dark. I don't remember if I had my amber safety flashlight. I recall taking her through the corridor between the noisy developing machines, through the double doors and into the lighted "dry end", where the film went into the drying boxes. She was 16, I was 21, and I was proud to show her my workplace and also the MGM theater. I only worked at the studio for a few more months, and the rest is now history, but as the saying goes:

"That's showbiz!" 

Thanks for reading and Tons of Love, as always.   

June 19, 2025 (Movies & Happy Summer)

Howdy folks. I'm afraid I have nothing to report but movies. Everything else is my book, the one I'm working on, and I can't tell ya much about that. So, whattaya think? Can we do a bunch of flicks? Okay, good, but before we do, here's some exciting movie-related news:

The legendary Reseda Theater will soon be back (well, sort of). A development project is finally in the works. Read about it here: 

https://www.azuredevelopmentco.com/reseda-theater.html?fbclid=IwY2xjawK-liJleHRuA2FlbQIxMABicmlkETFQTUdpd216cEk2QWVmWlVFAR4Gbn_Syup4RhpHZ9OiWinpuYT7AUDToBQWI0wKMkWuVG2lgLo9VuKevDfG8w_aem_DpfbepB4yJv5WbN6pnviPQ

Now, before we count our chickens, it must be noted that several other RT developments have been announced over the years and fallen through. This one, however, seems to have been approved and is already in the works, so, even though it won't be a full restoration of the original, single screen theater (without all the added shops and bistros), it's better than letting it sit idle as it has for the past 37 years. The best part is that they're gonna preserve the facade and marquee. Long live the Reseda Theater, my very first Movie Home.

Okay, now on to our reviews. Our first film is "Emperor"(2012), about the aftermath of the Pacific war and Hirohito's fate after his surrender to General MacArthur. Matthew Fox stars as the real life "Gen. Bonner Fellers", an assistant to MacArthur, who must find evidence that Hirohito ordered the attack on Pearl Harbor. Fox gives an outstanding performance; the ads showed Tommy Lee Jones' picture as MacArthur, but its Fox's film from start to finish. I don't know why he isn't a major star. Most of the cast is made up of Japanese actors who do a good job of capturing the warrior mentality and male-dominated culture of Japan at that time. Hirohito was seen, literally, as God to the Japanese people, and this is only 15 years before I was born. Talk about political mind control. Now then, we all know who Hitler was, but have you ever heard of Tojo? He was the true evil dictator of Japan who, along with his militarist generals, really ran the show above Emperor Hirohito, a passive man. Read the two thousand year history of feudal Japan, which was closed off from the world until Admiral Perry "opened it up" in 1853 (only 100 years before rock n' roll came into being). The movie shows how the war put a final end to all of that sequestration, and how the greatest horror the modern world has ever seen (WW2) brought about the greatest positive change in culture for Japan, and allied prosperity for our two nations. A love story holds the movie together and brings tears. "Emperor" is a great film that will stand the test of time. Tommy Lee Jones is excellent as aways in his supporting role as the Supreme Commander.

We also have "Kandahar,"(2023), a top-notch action thriller with Gerard Butler of "300" fame. He's in some really bad movies and a few good ones. This is of the latter, a captivating action flick shot in Saudi Arabia, which isn't all sand dunes and looks here like a godforsaken netherworld. You know how the Alabama Hills or the Utah Desert are ancient but majestic? This location looks like God destroyed it. It's supposed to be Afghanistan, and I thought it was until I read the movie's IMDB page, but man you wouldn't wanna live there. No wonder it's a source of continual strife. Butler is like Liam Neeson. He's great at portraying the existential stoic hero, caring only to do his job and survive. Neeson and Butler are too old to do the machismo schtick, which makes them appear even stronger - age and experience outweighs youthful muscle and braggadocio. The old guys have been there done that, and don't give a Flying You-Know-What. Butler plays a CIA asset working covertly in Iran to blow up their nuclear production plants. Strange how art mirrors and predicts real life, eh? He succeeds in blasting their nuke factory to smithereens, but then is identified. Now he must escape not only the Taliban and Isis, but also a relentless Pakistani ISI agent who wants to capture and sell him to the highest bidder. He has an interpreter along for the ride who just wants to get home to his family but has gotten more than he bargained for. The movie's message is that ordinary citizens just want peace and stability no matter what country they come from, but are unfortunately dominated by a-holes using the guise of a religion they don't even believe in. As these kinds of flicks go, it's very well done and doesn't lag for a second, even at two hours running time.

 Next up, a solid crime flick. "The Texas Killing Fields"(2011) boasts a strong cast: Sam Worthington, Jessica Chastain, and Jeffery Dean Morgan as detectives searching for a bayou serial killer. Morgan is downright sympathetic as an altruistic, devoutly religious, transplanted New Yorker. He shows himself to be a talented actor not limited to psycho roles, and makes you wonder why he chose to play the most reprehensible character in the history of movies and televison ("Negan" from "The Walking Dead") which unfortunately typecast him. This flick is well paced, with seemingly competent direction by Michael Mann's daughter Ami. I say "seemingly" because you're watching, locked in, and for the first 110 minutes, everything is top notch. There's a great "backwoodser" vibe featuring some creepy Hoot & Holler people including an unrecognisable Sheryl Lee of "Laura Palmer" fame. The plot has you riveted, and even though there's no backstory or character development, it's still a good watch...until the end, which leaves one of the biggest Red Herrings in recent memory. It doesn't ruin the movie, but you wonder "what gives"? Why was this particular person even in the film and why did they spend so much time on him? You can chalk it up to directorial inexperience, or very poor screenwriting/script editing, heck I don't know. But they additionally wasted a good performance by this Red Herring character, who is one of the best recent movie villains. So go figure. Still, it's well worth watching for the atmosphere, and young Chloe Grace Moretz as a vulnerable child.

But the best film of all was "The Professor and the Madman"(2019) starring Mel Gibson and Sean Penn in those roles respectively. If you love words and books as much as I do, this is your movie, about the creation of the Oxford English Dictionary. We like to talk about time here at the blog, and how the past, in many historical instances, is not as far back as it seems. Dig it: the creation of the Oxford English Dictionary was begun in 1879, only six years before my grandmother was born, and only 81 years before myself. Using 2025 as a reference, it would've been created in 1944, not a "distant past" at all. But imagine a time without dictionaries! Nowadays, of course, the English language is in a period of steep decline. It's interesting to consider that God gave many living creatures a tongue, but only humans had the impulse to form words. What might have been the very first well-articulated (and not grunted) spoken word? Who spoke it and when? It is also interesting to note that English has become "the international language" and is used as "the language of aviation". Did this happen because England, and then America, were the world's most powerful countries (and forced it down everyone's throats), or because English conveys more nuance than any other language and is relatively easy to learn? Language is a fascinating subject that extends into pasta. Linguine means little tongues. This movie is about the attempt to preserve the English language by literally putting "every word that ever was", per James Murray, into the most comprehensive dictionary ever created. The Oxford now has twenty volumes! The other half of the movie is how this massive effort first attracted then negatively affected a "madman" (Penn, playing a Civil War surgeon) who resides in a London asylum. It's great stuff, featuring (imo) Sean Penn's best performance as the hopelessly insane Dr. William Chester Minor, and a restrained Mel Gibson as Professor James Murray. We need more literate movies like this one. Thanks, Mel and Sean.

Quick Top Ten List! Greatest debut albums of all time: 1) "In the Court of the Crimson King" by King Crimson 2) "The Six Wives of Henry the 8th" by Rick Wakeman 3) the first Van Halen album 4) "Out of the Silent Planet" by King's X 5) the first Rush album 6) the first Black Sabbath 7) Roxy Music's first 8) "Tones" by Eric Johnson 9) "Montrose" by Montrose 10) "Caravan" by Caravan. That's just off the top of my head (and "Crimson King" is the consensus #1 by anyone-and-everyone), but think of all the great bands who didn't have a killer debut: Yes, Genesis, Deep Purple, Alice Cooper, Judas Priest...heck, even The Beatles didn't knock it out of the park until their second album. So, it's less common when a band hits a grand slam the first time out. What are some of your top first albums from your favorite bands?

Another question, in the same vein as "who spoke the first word"? Why did man feel the need (or receive the initiative) to depict life? Why did he make cave paintings? Why did he feel the need to eventually invent photography, and then motion pictures? Why did he create "plays" when he had real life? Why are there stories? I ask because it's interesting...

I've had fun doing Movie Memories, and I was trying to think of the first movie Lilly and I ever saw. Could it have been "Heavy Metal", the animated Ralph Bakshi flick? I think so. It was released in August 1981, just weeks after we became a couple. Lilly wanted to see it because Cheap Trick was on the soundtrack. I think both of us liked the title and it just looked like an awesome movie. We saw it at the Cinerama Dome. To be honest, I don't remember the storyline, but I know Lillian was glad to hear the CT song play. They have no bigger fan in the Universe. The Dio version of Black Sabbath was also on the soundtrack with "Mob Rules". The 80s was of course when heavy metal exploded. Lilly and I were still getting to know each other at this point, and doing a very good job of it. The Summer of 1981 was The Greatest Summer of All Time (in my book, at least). It's funny: back then I would've said I didn't like the music of bands like REO Speedwagon or an artist like Christopher Cross, both of whom had huge radio hits with songs like "Keep On Loving You" and "Arthur's Theme". But - while Van Halen and Rush will always be "more my style" - it is songs like those that necessitate a Kleenex when I think of that time in our lives. It's a Happy Kleenex, mind you. Nostalgia equals timelessness, an endless Steady State...

And that's all I know for today. Thanks for reading, Happy Summer, and Tons of Love as always. 

June 9, 2025

Howdy, folks. Sorry to do this, but I've gotta start with a brief tirade. Newsom and Mayor Bass have got to go. First, there was their non-response during and after the firestorms in January of this year. And now, they are basically supporting these rioters, who are waving Mexican flags while they burn vehicles and throw rocks at passing cars. I'm grateful to President Trump and Secretary Hegseth for Federalizing the National Guard and sending in the Marines. Screw these criminals who riot every time they think thay have an "excuse" (even after basketball championships). And don't get me started on blocking the freeway. Folks, you can take whatever stance you want about the ICE deportations here in Los Angeles, and I'll honor your opinion even if I disagree with it (and you can guess where I stand on illegal immigration). However...and this is one of those Howevers we've seen in the past that are huge and must be drawn out..Howw-wwevv-err: If anyone thinks that blocking freeway traffic is acceptable, you should deport yourself from the Earth. Why do I say that? Because I was a caregiver. What if an ambulance was on the freeway with a patient in critical condition? What if you or I were on the freeway, going to visit a dying relative in the hospital? What if your wife was in labor and your child was about to be born, or your loved one had been shot and was dying...and these a-holes, these entitled POS, blocked the freeway and you couldn't get through? And your loved one died before you could get there, or the person in the ambulance died...

You know what? "Hey Newsom", eff you. You are the worst governor this state has ever had. Ditto Bass as Mayor, and that ain't easy to do when you consider Villaraigosa. Thank you, Trump, for standing up for law abiding citizens of all stripes and ethnicities. Shut these bad guys down, and keep them off the freeway and roads by any means neccessary.

More cops, more military, support pop up robots. America will NOT acquiesce to the criminals.

Okay, deep breath. Thanks for restoring order.

On a lighter note, have you guys heard of Helgi and Erlend? They're two Norwegians who do Scandanavian stereotypes on Facebook. They do a few other countries, too. I think they're hilarious and you've gotta check 'em out. Just put them in the FB search window, and watch their reels and shorts for best results.

We've got a coyote roaming my neighborhood. I've run into him two nights in a row and it's almost uncanny. The first time was on Saturday evening, during my Ralph's walk up to Chatsworth & Lindley. When I got to the old Denvonshire Downs lot, I was talking to my sister Vickie on the phone and suddenly there he was, Mr. Coyote, standing 15 feet away from me. I wasn't skeered, because I'm something of a coyote veteran at Aliso Canyon. If they're alone, they aren't gonna bother you (only when you see more than one should you be careful). Anyhow, while on the phone I watched him run around the Dev Downs parking lot. I said to Vickie that "I hope he heads back up into the mountains where he belongs". It worried me that he was close to traffic, which is relentless around here. Well, then last night, I took a detour on my CSUN walk. I never return via Superior Street. That's above my block and out of my way, but tonight there were a whole bunch of people on the sidewalk on Halsted. I didn't wanna weave through them so I kept going, one block out of my way up to Superior. And no sooner did I turn the corner onto Superior from Etiwanda...than there was Mr. Coyote, running through someone's front yard! I kid you not. It's like he's doggin' me (pun intended). He stopped for a second to check me out. I stopped too. I said (quietly) "you go on home, Mr. Coyote. You could get hurt down here". And he could hurt or kill someone's dog or cat, too. Hopefully, he'll find his way back, or animal control will pick him up. I hope it's the first option because Animal Control might put him down. Anyway, that's something, eh? Having a coyote just "pop up" two nights in a row, at random places...  

I went to the Academy Museum last week, with Vickie for her birthday. Have you been there? It's pretty awesome, and highly recommended for anyone with even a passing interest in the history of movies. For film buffs, it's a must-see. They have tons of Hollywood memorabilia & historic and technical presentations. It's located in the old May Company building next to LACMA and La Brea Tar Pits, and across the schtreet from the Petersen Auto Museum. You could even go and make a big-time "Museum Day" out of it. Hot tip: don't pay the 21 dollar parking fee (ouch!) in the LACMA garage; instead, turn right on Fairfax (off Wilshire), go up two blocks to Maryland, turn left and find free schtreet parking in a Lynchian residential neighborhood, very nice indeed. Tickets for the Academy are 25 bucks, or 19 for seniors like me. 

A couple of Tubi movies: "Man on the Prowl"(1957), an ultra-low budget psycho/thriller notable for its excellent performances. The great James Best plays a nut who romances then kills women when they reject him. He's just been let out of Camarillo and is living with his Mom. He knows cars, and has a job at a high-end dealership called Yeakel Cadillac (now Casa de Cadillac on Ventura near Moby Disc). He murdalizes one date at the beginning of the movie, then almost runs down pretty suburban Mom Mala Powers the next day while returning an Eldorado to a rich blonde bimbo. The movie has an inventive script that may have influenced "realist" filmmakers like Scorsese and Tarantino, and Best's portrayal of an extremely twisted character gives you the creeps. He was never a star, but you know him from a million things: for most it would be "Dukes of Hazzard", for me it was the cold-blooded leader of a redneck cowboy gang who put William Devane's hand in the garbage disposal in the all-time revenge film "Rolling Thunder"(1977). It was Best who uttered the movie's immortal line. After Devane's hand gets turned into ground round, his wife says: "My God, Charlie! Why didn't you just tell him where the money was?!" Best interjects, and says: "I'll tell you why lady...because your husband is one macho mo****rf**ker." I don't have to tell you that, at 17, that line hit my friends and I like a ton of bricks and we used it for a long time as a meme. James Best was the kind of actor who you never forgot in a role. He had a distinctive voice, for one thing, a high Texas twang. He did have one starring performance in "The Killer Shrews" (a 1959 b-movie classic with dogs dressed up as giant shrews), and that too was indelible. I say the more James Best, the better. According to IMDB, only one print exists of "Man on the Prowl". It was found in 2015; Alpha Video bought the rights. A high recommendation for this rarity.

We also have "Black Robe"(1991), which you may have seen or at least heard of. I saw it at the Peppertree when it was first released. Last night was my second view. Simply put, it's one of the greatest historical movies ever made, in my opinion. Briefly (if you are unfamiliar with the story): In 1634, from Quebec in what is called New France (before Canada was a country, and no one knows - even today - if it's a real country), a Jesuit priest (Lothaire Bluteau) sets out into the untamed wilderness, heading for Huron territory. He is sent by "Champlain," the French governor of the colony, to Christianize the Indians, and thus make them more peaceful and compatable. A handsome young colonist (Aden Young) accompanies the Father, wanting, like him, to "serve God". But he falls in love (and in lust) with a beautiful Algonquin girl (Sandrine Holt), causing an already tenuous relationship with their Chief to get worse. The Algonquins don't trust "the Black Robe" as they call Father Paul LaForge (Bluteau). The superstitious braves think he's a demon because he can "write words" and play the flute. To them, he's bad magic. But the Algonquins are downright moderate compared to the Iroquois, who are bloodthirsty and practice a form of voodoo. The situation worsens at every stop along the way. Winter comes, and with it sickness. The small group is continuously reduced. When they finally reach the Huron mission, only Father LaForge is left. That's all I'll reveal, and again, you've probably seen it. If you haven't, watch it asap. The stunning color photography alone is worth the effort, but it's also a gripping story of different forms of faith. Looked at from a Christian perspective, you could almost say that the Indians (some tribes) were stuck in the type of "eye for an eye" violence found in The Old Testament, whereas Father LaForge "turns the other cheek" at every injury they inflict upon him. 10/10 for "Black Robe", which was directed by Bruce Beresford (of "Driving Miss Daisy" fame). It came out around the same time as "Dances With Wolves" and "Last of the Mohicans" and I think it's the best of the bunch.

I had so much fun writing and thinking about "One From the Heart" that it reminded me of another great Movie Memory. Do you remember "Legend" starring Tom Cruise? Lillian and I saw it at the GNC Theater in April 1986, close to my birthday if I remember correctly. The GNC was in the Northridge Mall, and something about the way it was "tucked into a corner" (near Bullocks) and its '80s decor made it a favorite theater of mine for many years. So it was already a great movie date. But the film itself, like "One From the Heart", also had a "personal" connection for me and Lilly. Cruise plays "Jack", a forest dweller who fights The Lord of Darkness (basically, the devil) to save the last unicorn in existence. And in doing so, he saves Mia Sara, who plays "Princess Lily"! I loved "Legend" and I think Lillian did too, and on the way out, she said that someone told her she "looked like Mia Sara". I may have said, "No, she looks like you."

It's another of my favorite movies. 

That's all for now. Thanks for reading and Tons of Love as always.

May 29, 2025 ("One From the Heart", Avengers, etc.)

Hey guys, I trust all is well. I've been working on my book ("2009"), and let me tell you a little about the writing process. I once read Kurt Vonnegut's description of writing a first draft, and I get a kick out of it now because it's so accurate. We imagine someone like him, or Stephen King or any great writer, just tossing off one literate, perfect sentence after another, then going back in a second draft to red-pencil a word or sentence or paragraph here and there. Just a slight polishing of an otherwise excellent first effort. Vonnegut described it differently. He said (paraphrase): "For me, every time I start a book it's like I'm a caveman writing in crayon". Boy, did he nail it; the Incoherancy Factor. There's also the Enormity of the Task. Starting a book is like hugging a blimp, or better yet, wrestling a grizzly bear. First, you've gotta get your arms around the doggone thing, get a grip on what you're trying to pin down, and don't let its size intimidate you. Then there's the matter of articulation and grammatical correctness. Everyone knows we don't (or shouldn't) write like we talk; I always use the Two Dudes Conversation as an example. Imagine Two Dudes, conversing with each other: (Dude #1): "Dude...I was at this house...and this chick was there..." (Dude #2): "...aw man, Dude!" (Dude #1)..."No Dude...and dude?...I mean...duuude...Dude, listen"...(Dude #2): "Say no more, dude...". Okay, we know that The Two Dudes know exactly what is being discussed, and in this case we do, too. But you could even take it further, because we've all overheard Two Dudes conversing with only a single word: (Dude #1): "Duuude"....(Dude #2) "Dude?" (Dude #1): "Duuude...". (Dude #2, getting the gist): "Dude!"

Because they understand each other, the Two Dudes don't need articulation. Whether they will continue to lose brain cells is another question, but you get my point. However, you can't write a book that way. You can't "write the way you talk" (even if you speak better than a Dude) because it will confuse readers, who are used to seeing grammatically correct sentences on a page. But when you are starting a book, you tend to "charge out of the gate" because you have so much to say, and your fingers type the "oral version" of what you are thinking, rather than the considered, articulate, and grammatically correct sentences. Thus, we have Vonnegut's assessment of himself as a "caveman with a crayon" when beginning a first draft. That a writer of his stature felt that way is a comfort to the rest of us. 

The first draft of my "2009" book will be a whopping 1200 pages. Luckily for me, half of that consists of my 2009 journal/diary (choose your word) and a series of notes I wrote in 2023/24, the context of which I can't reveal. But the notes are as extensive as my journal, and both will be presented intact (unchanged except for grammatical mistakes), so half the book is already written. The other 600 pages will be my "forensic examination" of the journal and the notes (which describe The 2009 Event), and so far, I too feel like a caveman writing in crayon, so huge is the task, but crayon or no crayon, I'm a very good polisher, and when I am done (likely after three drafts) it will result in an expose no less important than What Happened in Northridge. I'm still hoping for an April 2026 publication date, but it's extended to the end of that year.

On a side note, related to the Two Dudes Conversation, my Mom and I overheard a similar "foreign language" convo at the Lindley/Parthenia carwash, sometime in the early 2000s. It went like this: Speaker #1 "That was some f-cked up s-t, dog". Speaker #2 "Damn, dog. That is some f-cked up s-t!" As we drove away, I remarked to Mom that it was the first time I'd ever heard canines speaking English. Indeed, I'd never heard "dog" used as a pronoun before this. Beyond that, I am amazed (amused?) at the simplicity with which some people (and dogs) speak, and yet they understand every nuance of what is being stated.

File this next thing under "Made me so mad": Last night on my walk, as I approached the intersection of Lindley and Nordhoff, I saw that the protective fencing had been removed from around "Tacos 1986", the food stand that's replacing Cupid's Hot Dogs. I've been rooting for the new owner because he honored our local history, not only by retaining the original Cupid's hut but also its iconic heart-shaped sign. Perhaps he loved Cupids, too, and has honor for what came before him, a rare trait nowdays. With the green-screened construction fencing down, I could see what his stand will look like, and he's done a very nice job indeed. It basically looks like Cupid's with some black iron railings added, and it's ready to open any day now. But as I walked by, going south on Lindley, I happened to glance back over my shoulder, and was infuriated to see that some lowlife tagger had defaced the side of Tacos 1986 with some illegible scumbag gangbanger scrawl, sprayed before the stand has even opened. I have to say, you couldn't "out right-wing" me if you combined Lyman Lemnitzer, Joe McCarthy and Barry Goldwater. I hate bad guys so much, I make Chief Darryl Gates look like Timothy Leary. I think we need Pop-Up Robots all over the place - everywhere. Get Elon to figure out how to make them cost-effective. Then, when a tagger shows up at 4am to deface someone's brand new business, the "pop-up" (embedded in the parking lot, sidewalk, wherever) pops up out of the ground and vaporizes the s.o.b. Same with smash 'n grabs, street takeovers, etc. I've had it with lowlife criminals. They don't "deserve" a fair trial. Support Pop-Up Robots. Well anyhow...

How about a movie?

The other night I watched Francis Ford Coppola's "One From the Heart" for the second time, the first being with Lillian on Valentine's Day 1982. I think we saw it in the NoHo area, or possibly Universal City, if that cineplex was open back then. Boy, does this movie ever ring the nostalgia bell. Over the years, I've always remembered it for the incredible Las Vegas sets, which broke the bank for Coppola and Zoetrope, but I also remembered a significance for Lilly and me. The movie was sad - I remembered that, but I didn't recall how sad, or why. I had an imprint of Frederick Forrest singing "You Are My Sunshine", and in memory it broke my heart because I love Lilly so much and always have and always will. In the movie, Forrest and Teri Garr are always fighting, except at the end when they are redeemed. In that sense, it has a happy ending (like all romantic movies should) but it's mostly a downer, because who wants to watch a couple fight for all but the last two minutes of a movie? But I think the real marker, for me anyway, had to do with when we saw it: February 1982. My life was in upheaval, though at 21 (going on 22) I didn't notice this as much as I would in retrospect. I had literally just quit MGM a few weeks earlier. Consequently, I had no income and had just lost my awesome BMW 320i to repossession. On the good side, my band had just played our first two gigs, at Prairie Street School and Kennedy High, but counteracting that, on the bad side, my bandmates had just broken into the studio of a group named Zilch (who were located next to our rehearsal studio in the Golden Glenn building), and had stolen every piece of musical equipment Zilch owned. Two police detectives came to my door on the morning of February 1 (thirteen days before "One From the Heart"), to question me about the ripoff, because my name was on the studio lease. And if all that weren't enough, the day this happened, February 1, 1982, was the day we had to move out of our studio! So no wonder "One From the Heart" has stuck with me all this time. Lilly and I were so young then. She had just turned 17 three months earlier. I was two months away from 22. And in the movie, Frederick Forrest and Teri Garr are live-in boyfriend and girlfriend, and their anniversary is July 4. That's like a touchstone for me...

Anyhow, watch "One From the Heart" and see what you think. It wasn't a box office success. I think Coppola got carried away with his sets and production design and let the script get away from him. Fifteen minutes could be cut from the middle, and some of the symbolism is muddled. But if the ending doesn't bring out the Kleenex, you need to check your heart. I've never forgotten this movie, it's had deep meaning in my memory for all of this time, and now I know why. The promise of love, in the early 1980s, rings eternal. "You are my sunshine".

Confession: I'm a huge "Avengers" fan. Can you believe it? Me, watching Marvel movies? Now, concerning my fandom, so far it's Avengers only, I'm not talking about the whole MCU. But I got hooked after recently watching "Avengers: Endgame", which was recommended to me by a friend way back in 2019, when it was in theaters. I absolutely loved it (because The Avengers kick bad guys' asses), and I ordered two more Avengers flicks from the Libe: the first one and "Age of Ultron". Of course, I wish I'd seen them all on the big screen, but I'm hooked anyway, and I still have "Infinity Wars" to go. I think the appeal (and this is genius by the filmmakers) is the absolute perfection of the casting. Whoever cast this franchise had the right intuition for the chemistry that would make the series work, and hold the stories down amidst all the superhero CGI chaos. Who would've ever suspected ScarJo as a kick-ass action hero? The casting director! And Downey, Mark Ruffalo, relative unknown Chris Evans, and Jeremy Renner (a real life superhero), and self-effacing hunk Chris Hemsworth. They seem like a team in real life, outside the movie. Someone realized, "Hey, we need to humanise this thing", and they knocked it out of the park by picking exactly the right people. I can't wait to see the next Avengers movie on a giant screen in the theater, and now I have to visit Avengers Campus at California Adventure at Disneyland! 

I've been pondering "Who is the most powerful Avenger"?, and there are many online threads on the subject. The obvious choices would be Thor or Hulk, but some say The Scarlet Witch, who I didn't know of until I saw "Ultron". Remember, I'm an MCU newbie. I can't choose a most-powerful; it could be any of them in their different ways, but my favorite is Captain America.

And that's all I know for today. Thanks for reading. Tons of love, as always. 

May 14, 2025 (Charles B. Pierce, Freda, et al)

Hey guys, pop quiz: Who remembers Charles B. Pierce? Think hard, it'll come to you. Here's a hint: Dawn Wells...

Give up? Charles B. Pierce was an independent filmmaker who directed the all-time classic horror shocker "The Town That Dreaded Sundown". He must've also had a knack for marketing, because he used his middle initial in the credits, which not only Made Him Sound Important, it also let you know that he wasn't just Any Old Charles Pierce, he was Charles B. Pierce, Jack, and to give you an idea of his way with words, he also wrote the legendary Eastwood line "Go ahead...make my day". Now, as you may know, I happen to have a memory for details (and one heck of a memory, period) and I always remembered Charles B.Pierce, not to be confused with another independent filmmaker named Charles Band, who was strictly a horrormeister. Charles B. Pierce made his name in horror with his first film, "The Legend of Boggy Creek" and continued with "Town/Sundown", but in the 1980s he branched out with a Western called "Sacred Ground" that I discovered the other night on Tubi.

Man, the brahmas at Tubi must be some expert filmcasters because they keep unearthing heretofore unheralded gems. "Sacred Ground"(1983) is one such, the story of an Oregon fur trapper (big Tim McEntire, remember him?) who rebuilds a destroyed log cabin in Paiute country in 1861. He's got an Indian wife who's pregnant; now they have a place to live. What he doesn't know is that the cabin they've resurrected is on Paiute burial ground. This ain't "Poltergeist", but the Chief is still pissed off. His braves pull a stunt on Tim and his gal that I won't reveal, and it sets off a chain of revenge. Bug-eyed Jack Elam plays a trader along for the ride. Western staple LQ Jones runs the local wilderness outpost.

This movie is a minor classic and highly recommended. Charles B. Pierce not only wrote and directed but was also the cinematographer. The man was talented, as shown by his eye for landscape and his ability with actors; an early, nine-minute scene with McEntire and LQ inside the general store draws you in to the idea that you're about to see a very good film with a different take.

Tarantino may know it. If not, I've one-upped him again! 

Next up is "The Last Blitzkrieg"(1959), a low budget, b&w WW2 flick notable for being shot (almost) on location - Holland stands in for Belgium's Ardennes Forest. (Mini tirade - whatever happened to Holland? Why is it now "The Netherlands" and can Trump restore the name?) Van Johnson does an admirable job playing the leader of a German commando unit who are impersonating American GIs, right down to their Midwestern accents. They dress in American uniforms and are given a crash course in US culture: "Seig Heil! Who are the Cubs?" "A baseball team from Chi-ca-go, herr Hauptmann". Especially good is Dick York (later of "Bewitched" fame) as a genuine US Sergeant leading a recon patrol. The unusual script greys the line between good guys and bad guys. Ultra-handsome Kerwin Mathews (from the Harryhausen "Sinbad" movies) plays a dedicated Nazi soldier. This is yet another "Tarantino Probably Knows It" flick, and if he doesn't, you know the punch line: "Then I have another one up on him"!

Forget the Diddy Trial. That's nothing. How about The Sue Trial? Now that's something to get worked up about. The only thing is, it may never happen. Unlike Diddy, Sue is a Sovereign Citizen (or so she claims) and therefore cannot be prosecuted...

Question: what kind of trip is Mads Mikkelson on? Perpetual Nordic Stoicism? In "The Salvation"(2015), he's kind of a Danish Liam Neeson, deeply wronged and just as angry but lacking Neeson's Irish passion. Mikkleson is a total Stone Face, which I suppose is what his director wanted. This movie, a new-ish Western, was stylistically excellent but the dazzlery is all on the surface. The photography is computer perfect. The sets are fantastic, the look of the film uniformly grim, but the acting...well, Mads is very good but he's no Liam Neeson, who - though he plays the same role over and over - always makes you feel something. You connect with him. Mikkelson? Less so. And concerning Jeffery Dean Morgan, why does he seem to revel in playing the worst human beings who ever lived? I'm not even sure I like him as a person. That infamous "baseball bat" scene from "The Walking Dead" is the worst obscenity ever put on film or video. So yeah, to sum up: great looking movie in the "computerised, unnaturally lit and colored" sense (i.e. too slick), very good acting all around, but surface level. Eva Green glares her way through her scenes. The story? Nothing but pure violence and revenge. The verdict? A solid 90 minutes of brutal Western vengeance, but not as good as a Liam Neeson version would've been, filmed in natural light. 

Can we do a top ten drummers? 1) Carl Palmer. I've never seen a performance like CP's at Cal Jam, and I've seen Neil Peart 32 times. 2) Neil Peart. If it wasn't for Carl P, no one could touch Neil P. Mike Portnoy? You're joking, right? But even Neil said he couldn't play like Carl Palmer. 3) Ian Paice 4) Bill Ward 5) Jerry Gaskill 6) Phil Collins 7) Cozy Powell 8) Andy Ward 9) Richard Coughlin 10) John Weathers. Honorable mention: Bill Bruford, Nick Mason, and Michael Shrieve, who stole Woodstock...

I go down White Oak on my walks now. I started doing this last Christmas, to see the lights. My walk wasn't just White Oak then, but all of "Sherwood Forest", where my family once lived before it had that insipid name. After Christmas, my walk devolved to include only White Oak, because of the Meissner house, which is unnoccupied now and looks like it has been for quite some time. Walking past, I made the proclamation that it must never be lived in again, but maintained in it's empty, slightly run-down state for evermore: needing a coat of paint, maillbox askew, the right side gate eaten away. "It must never be occupied again," I state when I pass it, and that's because it's a House of Profound Evil, and thus must remain standing as a museum of evil deeds. Lys knows what I'm talking about... 

...and speaking of Lys, I have many routes for my evening walks, which are five miles in length and take about an hour and a half to complete. One such route takes me down Prairie Street to Crebs. I chose that street because a lady named Freda used to live there, on Crebs between Prairie and Plummer. Before she moved to Northridge (and Crebs Street), Freda was Pearl's neighbor in Reseda. Her son Richie was one of my earliest playmates, when I was about four years old, and when I was five and six, Freda would pick us up from school at Lorne Street Elementary. My family moved from Reseda to Northridge in January 1968. Next I heard of Freda, she owned a New Age bookstore in Northridge, lo and behold. It turned out that Freda was a psychic and an expert numerologist, something I didn't know when I was a little kid. My Mom had stayed in touch with her after we moved. Mom was way into astrology (I am, too, because of Mom), and she would occasionally stop in to visit Freda at her bookstore, which was located at Prairie and Reseda Boulevard. That was in the late 1970s. Cut to 2023. Pearl had died two years earlier. I was thinking about her, which caused me to remember Freda, who'd been her neighbor in the early '60s. I Googled Freda, to see if she was still around - she wasn't...she passed away in 2018. I also remembered that when we would drive to the mall, Mom would say, "Freda lives near here, on Crebs Street." Just for the heck of it, I Googled Freda's address. This was in 2023. As noted above, Freda's house was located on Crebs between Prairie and Plummer. One night that Fall, I walked past it. On the other side of Crebs, across from Freda's house, is the little cul-de-sac of Liggett Street. Like Freda, I am psychic too, but not with a natural gift like she had. Freda was so talented, she worked with the LAPD, according to Mom. With me, my ability is closer to an extreme level of intuition, and I have to work at it, but sometimes things "come to me" because I have a lot of memories that have been deliberately blocked or buried. And when I walked past Freda's house, and saw the Liggett Street cul-se-sac, I pictured Lys's car parked there: her famous White VW Rabbit.

Lys was parked there because, in my memory, she was at Freda's house. I was there, too. So was Lilly. Maybe even Ann. This was in the days of The Clandestine Car Rides, early 1990s, maybe '92. Give or take a year. I remember nights when Mom would tell me "Lillian is going to call", and I'd get so excited. It would be a "special" phone call, where I was supposed to let it ring a certain number of times, then wait for her to call back, or I would pick it up and there would be some "beeps" or something before Lilly said "hello". There was some kind of code or system associated with these phone calls, and then Lilly would arrange to meet me. These were the legendary Clandestine Car Rides, which I had no awareness of until 2023. Lys came along on some of them. There were at least three of these rides, maybe one or two more. One time, I met them at the Northridge Mall, to avoid all The Bad Guys at my house. But another time, I met them at Freda's house on Crebs Street. In 2023, I remembered the bronze metal "Sun" face Freda had next to her door. It's still there. I also remembered Mom giving me directions that day, telling me to access Prairie Street by way of the college, to avoid The Bad Guys trying to follow me. "You'll pass a tall hedge on Crebs", she said. "The next house will be Freda's". I remember it was blazing hot that day. When I got there I was worried about being all sweaty when Lillian arrived. Luckily, Freda had good air conditioning. Several people were in the living room: Lys was definitely there, maybe Ann. If Ann was there, I don't think she was big on numerology. Ann is more scientifically-minded. We were waiting for Lilly to arrive, and when she did, Freda gave us some little blessing or ceremony. Soft drinks were served.

Then we left, or at least Lilly and me and Lys did. That's why I remember Lys's White Rabbit, parked on the Liggett Street cul-de-sac. We went on a Clandestine Car Ride, but I don't remember where we went...

My memory often blows my mind, especially since there have been so many things I was deliberately made to forget. One of the Clandestine Car Rides was a visit to see Ann, in some building in the Studio City area. Possibly a medical facility. Lys came along on that one, too, in her own car, which she had to move because it was parked at a meter...

Lys, Lys...where for art thou, Lys? She was something of a hero in those days (especially in 1988/89). Lilly, of course, was and is the one-and-only Lilly. No words can ever suffice. :)

Anyhow, that's the story of Freda and her house. And there's more to it. One day it will be in a book. 

Thanks for reading. Tons of love.

May 6, 2025 (Guitar Solos, Paul Schrader's "Hardcore")

 Hi guys. Tonight, I'm thinking about guitar solos. You might know that I play guitar (though not as much as I used to because of Dupuytrens), and even before I started, at age 19, it was always my favorite instrument. Like many fans, I was always moved by a tremendous guitar solo in a song. From way back I remember feeling this way. One of the first that affected me was in "All Along the Watchtower" by Jimi, and at the opposite end of the spectrum, I loved the gentler but no-less-expressive solo in "Something" by George Harrison. Who would even concieve of playing a solo like that, right?

Of course, it was Sir Richard who first blew me off the map with his solo in "Highway Star" in 1972. In addition to being a connoisseur of guitar solos, I also (modestly) consider myself an expert on them, and as such, I've researched the issue, trying to find a more advanced solo than that one at that time, and I haven't been able to do it. I mean, it still sets a high bar 53 years later, but in 1972 it was unheard of, to play that fast and that clean with that much fire and musicality.

I'm saying all of this, and thinking about guitar solos tonight because - every so often - I like to ponder what the Top Ten might be. You know me, I love lists. I have an innate need to "put things in order", while aknowledging that, "yeah, lists might be stupid, enumerating "The Greatest This or That", but still, I love to do it, just for the heck of it. Also, a few times, I've Youtubed a famous-but-difficult solo to see if any of these modern shredmasters has figured it out. For a long time, I couldn't figure out Ritchie's solo on "Burn", which I consider the greatest of all time. It's my #1, I've known it in my head note-for-note since 1974, and I can hum it. But I never took the time to try to play it, even slowly, because there were just too many notes and bends and whammys. Then, in the last couple years, I found a Youtube Guy who figured it out and posted it, and I set out to copy his example. Now I can play it. Not like Ritchie, but I do a respectable job.

Much harder is Uli Jon Roth's solo in "Still So Many Lives Away". That's also in my Top Ten. I should note that, for me, technical difficulty doesn't give a solo brownie points, or someone like Steve Vai would get all the accolades. But Uli's solo is both technically advanced and extremely musical. It sound like violin playing. I would never have attempted to try learning it, even when I had use of all my fingers, but lo and behold, a Youtube Guy has now replicated it perfectly. These modern-day shredders can't write a memorable song, but they can copy and play anything.

So, with no further ado, let's list The All Time Top Ten Guitar Solos. Before we do, let's define what makes a classic solo. A classic solo, first and foremost, is dramatic. It usually comes in after the chorus following the second verse (and often a bridge). It "takes flight" from the vocal melody and builds on that theme in the guitarist's signature tone and phrasing, and in the very best solos it turns that melody inside out or "plays beside it". Finally, it builds to a crescendo and then climaxes. Think Jimmy Page in "Stairway to Heaven", which many consider the greatest solo of all time. These are the ingredients of a classic guitar solo. Now, what are the ten best? We have one rule: only one solo per guitarist, otherwise Ritchie Blackmore would get at least three and it wouldn't be fair. So here we go. Here are my top ten:

1) "Burn" by Sir Richard Blackmore

2) "Comfortably Numb" by David Gilmour. This or "Stairway" are the consensus #1 among many fans.

3) "Still So Many Lives Away" by Uli Jon Roth

4) "Rock Bottom" by Michael Schenker. Another I thought was unplayable but a Youtube Guy has done it! 

5) "Lonely in the Night" by the great Eric Johnson. It was a tough call between this and EJ's "Desert Rose."

6) "Crying to the Sky" by Bill Nelson. A brief but deeply emotional solo with heart-rending tone.

7) "Wurm" by Steve Howe

8) "Limelight" by Alex Lifeson

9) "Beyond the Realms of Death" by Glenn Tipton. A prime example of the classic, dramatic guitar solo.

10) "Blue Sky" by Dickie Betts. A beautiful solo that takes up most of the song.

You'll notice there are no solos by Edward Van Halen, one of the greatest guitarists of all time and one of my very favorites. You may disagree, but I don't put his solos in the "classic" category, a) because they were almost always brief - more like guitar breaks rather than solos - and b) Ed's playing was so idiosyncratic that he was almost using the entire song structure as a "solo canvas", playing all kinds of voicings, sounds, and "call-and-response" to the vocals. He never played a lengthy solo of the type we are listing. This takes nothing away from him, obviously, but he's His Own Thing and doesn't fit what we are listing. If I had to pick an EVH solo that most resembles our list, it would be the one in "Dreams", which has soaring musicality and drama but is also brief. 

On a side note, I have to mention The Longest Guitar Solo Ever Played (at least as far as I know). That's the one in "Green Grass and High Tides" by The Outlaws. I kid you not: I once went into Trader Joes when that song was playing on the radio. The solo had just started, and I turned the car off, went in the store and shopped...and when I came out and started the car, the solo was still going. I've never forgotten that. 

Some honorable mentions: "Symptom of the Universe" by Tony Iommi, "Fade" by Ty Tabor, "Just One Victory" by Todd Rundgren, "Shesmovedon" by Steven Wilson.

I watched "Hardcore" the other night on Tubi. The movie has historical significance in my life because I first saw it on Saturday February 10, 1979, the day after it opened, which was also two days before I started working at MGM. Eight days earlier, I had driven my sister Vickie to Columbia Studios (aka Warner Bros, The Burbank Studios, etc.) so she could meet with our "Uncle" Earl Hamner to enquire about a part for "The Waltons". I remember the exact date because it was the day Sid Vicious died. I worked for Metrocolor until December 1981, when I was let go following a suspension. As for the movie, "Hardcore" was noted for its X-rated subject matter and the full-frontal nudity of Season Hubley, who co-starred with George C. Scott. His famous, explosive line, "Turn it off.....turn it off....TURN IT OFF!!!" became a meme for me and my friends for a few weeks. We went to see it because it was written and directed by Paul Schrader, and also because of the nude scene (a big deal when you're 18 years old), which turned out to be a half-second long. On first view, the movie didn't make a big impression, possibly because I was preoccupied with starting a major-league job, and was nervous. At the time, we (me and Pat Forducci) thought it was "pretty good" but not great.

Watching it a second time, now aged 65, my opinion is more nuanced. "Hardcore" still doesn't qualify as great, much less a classic like the Schrader-penned "Taxi Driver". It remains "pretty good", but my opinion is affected by my life story. I now applaud Schrader for what I see as his moral excoriation of Hollywood, L.A. Sex Culture and of course the porn "industry", which has since been "legitimized" but began as an out-in-the-open underbelly of lowlifes, mostly men, and the women who were jaded or young and naive enough to "work" for them. Schrader destroys them in this movie. They all get creamed in the end. George C. gets his daughter back. Ya gotta remember that Schrader wrote "Taxi Driver" as a revenge story, in which Travis Bikel - a Vietnam Vet (remember, they were spit on) - cleans up the scum of New York City. "Hardcore" is like  the L.A. sequel to that film, with George C. playing the Travis Bikel role, only this time, he's a version of Schrader himself: a Calvanist father (Schrader was raised Calvanist) whose daughter runs away from home. Season Hubley plays the porn actress who puts her life on the line to help him find her, and when you scrutinize her performance (which is quite good), it's easy to see her as an older version of "Taxi Driver"'s Iris Steensma, the 13-year-old hooker played so memorably by Jodie Foster. Schrader is a moralist, and I think he does believe in God, despite the fact that you can't admit it when you work in Hollywood (Mel Gibson excepted), and he also wrote a third movie called "Rolling Thunder", an all-time revenge masterpiece in which William Devane and the great Tommy Lee Jones go after a bunch of ruthless rednecks who steal Devane's honorary silver dollars (one for each day he was a P.O.W.) and grind his hand off in a garbage disposal.

I like Paul Schrader, not only because he makes good movies but because he hates bad guys as much as I do. His films show the good guys getting revenge as they win. In addition, to Schrader's credit, he was one of two people - the other being me - who saw Scorsese's "Raging Bull" for what it was, a boring waste of celluloid. Critics spewed all over themselves to praise that flick. Gene Siskel called it the greatest film ever made. In reality, it sucked and Schrader nailed it. I've always remembered his quote from an interview: "Marty sure dropped the ball on that one". Well, anyhow...  

How about a few Bands I Wish I'd Seen? We always think of our favorite concerts; what about the ones we missed? For me, the #1 Band I Wish I'd Seen is Van Der Graaf Generator, followed by Gentle Giant, Caravan, Frank Zappa at The Roxy (his legendary 1973 shows), David Bowie at the Santa Monica Civic in 1972, Traffic (same year, same venue), Genesis at The Roxy on the "Selling England" tour, and Elton John at The Troubadour (talk about a legendary show)...so there's a few. I know, I know: what about Jimi, The Four Zepplini Brothers, The Allmans, etc...yeah, I would love to have seen them, too, but the above listed bands are the first I'd go back and see if I had a Time Machine and a ticket to each show.

Anyhow, that's all for tonight. Make sure to listen to the songs with The Top Ten Guitar Solos and see what you think. Thanks for reading and Tons of Love, as always.

April 28, 2025 (Alice Cooper and other stuff)

Howdy folks. Sorry for the extra-long delay in my blogging. It's a combination of writing all day (for my book) on one hand, and conversely, feeling that I don't have anything worth blogging about on the other hand. I've watched a truckload of movies in the past two weeks, but endless movie reviews must get boring (I should ask you guys; do they? Heck, I dunno. I just write them. I'm not on the "reading end"). Anyhow, here's some amazing news: The original Alice Cooper group is back together! You may have heard about it by now, and most fans our age know that it was a group, not just a singer named Alice Cooper, but yeah, they have a new album coming out, their first in 50 years! What other band has ever broken up, then gotten back together a half century later? Holy smokes. The first single was released this week, it's called "Black Mamba", and - as produced by Bob Ezrin - it has that classic "haunted" AC sound. The album is titled "The Revenge of Alice Cooper", and I can say I haven't been this excited for a record in a long time. I never thought nor expected this to happen. If they tour...well, I won't count my chickens, but I missed the 1973 Billion Dollar Babies tour, the band's last, which was one year before I started going to concerts, so if they tour for this new album, man I'll be over the Moon...

There's one movie I have to review, so I hope you'll indulge me. It's called "The Homesman"(2014), and I saw it last night on Tubi. You don't expect anyone to make a Western in this day and age, must less a great one; the classic era for the genre was the late '40s through the early '70s (not counting Spaghetti Westerns which were horrible and I love to harp on them). There was a slight resurgence in the early 1990s (no, not "Unforgiven", that was horrible, too) with the all-time great "Tombstone", and also "Wyatt Earp", which was pretty good. But at any rate, while browsing Tubi, I came across this movie, which starred Tommy Lee Jones and Hilary Swank. Jones also directed, so it felt like it was worth a shot. If it was boring, I could always turn it off - right? - then look for something else. But, my fellow cinephiles, that turned out not to be a problem. It was riveting from Frame One, and you absolutely have to see it. "The Homesman" is not only one of the great Westerns of any era (and has all the Western elements you could want) but it's also one of the best movies period, of any style, that I've seen in a long time. I don't like most modern movies, as you know, but forget that for now. I can't tell you much about the story, but I'll give you the basics. Hillary Swank, who again shows herself to be a phenomenal actress, plays "Mary Bee Cuddy", an unmarried frontier woman of ability and means, who lives in the Nebraska territory. The year is 1854. The Territory is flat, wide open, and barely populated. Many of the pioneers who come there struggle or give up and leave. It's an especially hard place for women (excepting Mary Bee, who "is as capable as any man"), and three young wives have gone insane, for different reasons that I won't reveal. Their husbands can't cope, so straws are drawn by the local preacher (John Lithgow) to see who will ferry these ladies to a hospice in Iowa, five weeks away by wagon in the dead of winter. Through circumstance, Mary Bee gets the job. Upon leaving, she comes across Tommy Lee Jones, an old Army vet who's about to be hung for claim jumping. She decides he's worth saving, if he agrees to help her make the trek, which is gonna be harder than she thought. She decides it wouldn't hurt to have a man along.

That's about all I can give you without revealing spoilers. "The Homesman" apparently had a limited release, and didn't get much press, which is likely why you and I have never heard of it. But I'll say right now: Lion's Gate blew it, because everything about this movie screams "12 Oscar Nominations!" The photography is Spielbergian, as is the music. It has a pro-female theme for the modern era, without being woke or "politically feminist". Hillary Swank should've won her third Best Actress Oscar. There are many twists and turns, one of which is The All Time Spoiler Alert - don't even think about Googling it! Another involves Tommy Lee's character. If you liked him in "Rolling Thunder", you'll love this particular scene. "Homesman" is a five star film, and it doesn't drag at all. There are classic, single scenes with great charater actors like James Spader and Tim Blake Nelson. Finally, Meryl Streep makes an appearance, and her daughter, Grace Gummer, plays one of the crazy women. What a cast! What a story! What a movie! You need to see it, and you'll be glad you did, thanks to Tubi... 

Since we mentioned "Tombstone", we can segue to the late Val Kilmer, who - I was fascinated to learn - was a Christian Scientist. When told he had throat cancer, he at first planned to forego medical treatment in favor of prayer and spiritual alignment with God (with the help of a Christian Science practitioner), and he did this until his children protested, at which point he acquiesced and underwent surgery. My interest in the subject is ancestral; my Dad's mother (my grandmother) was a Christian Scientist. She contracted tuberculosis in 1937, when Dad was 17, and she died a year later at age 53. Dad suffered through the ordeal with her, watched her get sick and eventually die. Only once did he tell me the terrible details, but mostly he couldn't talk about it, and there is no doubt it affected him profoundly. He was only a high school student at the time, and his mother wouldn't go to the doctor, preferring to rely on her faith and the Christian Science principles for healing. I've wondered if medical treatment would have done her any good. Tuberculosis, in 1937, was practically a death sentence anyway. The takeaway from this story, and Val Kilmer's, is a conundrum: what is "the right thing to do" when one is a Christian Scientist but has children? Is it moral to proceed on faith, knowing the possibility that forgoing medical treatment could lead to death? Dad tried to indicate indifference when I was a kid, but I know he loved his Mom dearly and was crushed when she died. Did she make the right choice, in following her beliefs, or was it a wrong (even selfish) decision because the result deprived a son of his mother? (In addition, Dad's father left before he was born, so losing his Mom left him parent-less at age 18.) 

I am not trying to answer any of these questions, nor am I making a moral judgement on my Grandma Louise, and as I say, the probability is that she would've died anyway. Tuburculosis had a very high rate of mortality until streptomycin was discovered in 1944. My guess is that Louise, knowing the death rate of TB, resigned herself to her fate, and decided against medical intervention not only because of her Christian Science beliefs but also because she knew that her doctor could only postpone the inevitable. Thus, she chose to heal through alignment with the Highest Physician, Jesus Christ, and it didn't work out (in the physical sense, anyway). This is why many people malign and even mock Christian Science, because not all believers experience healing, and many with serious illnesses die. I have an opposite opinion. I'm not against Chistian Science, I certainly don't think it's foolish, and I'm actually amazed by it because, first of all, I love my Grandmother (even though I never knew her), and just as importantly, I am astounded by that level of faith, and aspire to it and believe I have it. I believe in God, and I believe in mind-over-matter, which is another way of saying that the human spirit is more powerful than the human body. I've also never really been a "doctor person". My last checkup was sometime in the Stone Age, and I've been blessed with mostly good health. I do have a few maladies like Dupuytrens (several fingers are bent out of shape) and a lifelong problem with hernias, but I've basically felt pretty good all my life, and I trust my body, and have just never "gone to the doctor" like you're "supposed to do" every six months or once a year, because my body tells me I'm healthy. And also, due to my highly unusual life story, and the fact that I've survived more than one near-death experience (by all rights, I shouldn't be alive), I have an unshakeable faith in Jesus Christ and God the Heavenly Father. However I don't know if I could rely on faith alone it if I was diagnosed with a serious illness and had children who would be affected by my decision.

 Anyhow, just because we're on the subject, it's important to point out that there are thousands of published testimonies on complete Christian Science healings. That's why I admire Val Kilmer, because he kept his faith, and he also tried to honor his children's wishes. I also respect my grandmother's decision, though I was not in my Dad's shoes as her son. Fortunately, Dad still had his grandma, a very strong woman who saw him through college and into the Air Force. Interestingly, though Dad said he "threw his Bible into the fireplace" after Louise died, when I was in my twenties he subscribed to The Christian Science Monitor, a paper noted for its honest and intellectually nuanced journalism.

A few more thoughts: I was once atheistic, and more specifically, religion was something I mostly didn't think about. It could even irritate me at times, in the days of Jimmy Swaggart and the like. But in my late 30s, when the reality of my life began to hit me, I became very interested in faith, and the mystery of the Holy Trinity. This was around 1998, when my memory was coming back. I learned that I'd survived near-death in extreme situations more than once, and I began feeling gratitude for that. My gratitude was directed at a general idea of God, but my belief became Christian-based when I started going to church with my Mom. I never went to Mass; we'd just go sit in the chapel, which was close to Mom's apartment (and is just across the street from my building). Then Mom got sick in 2005, and when she was in the hospital, I went to her church by myself, and prayed to Mary for Mom's healing. Mom of course died (of stage 4 throat cancer), but all of those solitary prayer sessions did something to me, and even though Mom was "gone", I still felt her presence, which gave me great hope and increased my faith, which now is the core of my existence. Getting back to medicine, you could say I'm kind of an unofficial observer, a "Christian Scientist on the sidelines". I believe in God, and I know God created me, put my spirit into my physical body, and therefore God knows more about me than any doctor. I believe that all disease (dis-ease) is "of the devil", and I am fascinated by mind-over-matter. The casual observer, who has only heard about it but not read Mary Baker Eddy's story or her philosophy may write off Christian Science as "superstitious nonsense" or worse, but it is actually a logic-and faith-based philosophy.

Anyhow, "good health to all". That's what I pray for. I thank you for reading, and I'll talk to you soon.

God Bless, and tons of love.