October 18, 2024

Howdy folks. I hope you've had a good week and are surviving the election season. I'm feeling a little less tense now that Trump is leading (slightly) in the polls. I'm constantly on Youtube, though, watching all the prognosticators (Red Eagle Politics and Depressed Ginger are my favorites), and I won't be able to completely relax until it's over. I went to see Judas Priest on Tuesday (Oct. 15) at the Youtube Theater in Inglewood, inside the SoFi Stadium complex. Had a double traffic nightmare on the way down - it took 45 minutes to get from my apartment to the 405 freeway onramp at Nordhoff. That's 45 minutes to go 4.5 miles, and no, I am not exaggerating. After that, it was smooth sailing all the way to where the 405 connects to the 10. Then, about 6 miles before the Manchester offramp, the freeway turned into a parking lot. All told, it took two hours to go 27 miles. I won't be going to any more venues that require using the 405, but this show was more than worth it. I also got to see the outside of the massive (and massively impressive) SoFi Stadium. It's without doubt the Stadium of the Fyoochum. I'd love to see the inside but I imagine a Rams game must cost minimum 200 bucks, so alas, it will probably never happen. Inglewood has scored big on the stadium/arena front. They've now got the Intuit Dome opening just down the schtreet from The Forum and SoFi. It's gonna be hard for Staples Center and LA Live to compete. You have to walk halfway around SoFi to get to Youtube, a smallish, 4000 seater similar to Nokia at LA Live. Inglewood is trying to put Staples out of bidness, but I like Nokia better because you can take the subway there. Driving on the 405 is a Grade A nightmare. Even getting to the 405 is hell. 45 minutes to go four and a half miles...

Can you say "Escape from L.A.?" Please, Mr. Trump, make America great again. Los Angeles used to be such a great, great place. Now, it's Blade Runner.

But Judas Priest redeemed the whole trip. They were so far off the charts, and it's quite an accomplishment because few other (no other?) bands have done what they have done, which is to replace two classic members and still present a show of equal brilliance. It's a different kind of show, admittedly, because Tipton and Downing were legends, whose twin solos not only cut to the bone through the musculature of the riffs, but were also highly musical. As blistering as the solos were, they had memorable melodies, you could whistle them. Such was the level of musicality in that era. But the heart and soul of the band is now the Faulkner/Sneap duo. They look like two pirate ship captains from the 16th century, flying the JP Flag proudly, riffing with the same power and exactitude as their predecessors while soloing with a fusillade of notes in the modern style. Watching them, you understand why Britannia rules the waves and likely always will. It's Judas Priest on steroids. Metal God Halford is singing (almost) like it's 1981, and his range is light years better than in 2005, when he was overweight and giving up on the high notes. Now, he's killing it (with a little help from a delay/sustain on occasion). But overall, it's become the Richie Faulkner show. He's the best of the "shredder" guitarists. Yeah, he plays a trillon notes, but he's an emotive shredder, and now that I think of it, he may be the only member of that category.

Grimsley (who came with me) mentioned that Scott Travis has improved. "He's turned into an octopus"! And I agree. He used to be a solid-but-mechanical metal drummer who relied on the double kick bass drum pattern. He's more inventive now, playing to accommodate the song, which is what made Dave Holland so great. Holland will always be the drummer who gave Priest their gigantic, booming sound, but Travis has finally come into his own. It was a jaw dropping show. We had trouble finding the car (I street-parked to avoid the fitty dollar parking fee) but the drive home was a piece of cake. 

  I've been revisiting the Judas Priest catalogue since then, reaquainting myself with albums like "Defenders of the Faith" and "Turbo". This got me thinking about the history of Heavy Metal and it's worth noting that the first Black Sabbath album was released in England on February 13, 1970, two months before the breakup of The Beatles was announced on April 10 of that year. Think about the musical vision of Tony Iommi, who was just 22 at the time. To single-handedly come up with that sound, in the era of early Elton John and James Taylor? I mean, The Beatles were still together when he invented those riffs. The music on that first Black Sabbath album arrived so far out of left field (even considering the presence, at the time, of heavy artists like Deep Purple, Cream and Jimi). Who ever heard anything like the song "Black Sabbath"? My goodness. I've come to think of Tony Iommi as a musical mastermind the equivalent of Sirs Blackmore and Page. He invented heavy metal, but the point is that his sound was as radically different as possible at that time. Could his Italian heritage have had an influence?  

Anyhow, that's my musical news of the week. Everything else is As Usual. I'm trying to acclimate myself to the realization that "1989" wasn't limited to that year but has been an Ongoing Thing, at least through 2009. I'm poring over my journal from '09, looking for clues. According to the daily entries, it was one hell of a psychic year. I wonder if the bad guys felt this. Do they have psychic abilities, or are they just connected by their iPhones? I am gonna blow this thing out of the water, I can guarantee you that. My journal is the key. Well, that and my amazing memory of course.

This being Halloween Month, I've been watching nothing but horror movies, so we'll resume our Montgomery Clift retrospective in November. We only have two more Monty Movies to go. In the meantime, I've been sticking to old favorites like Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi, in movies I've seen multiple times. Last night, I watched "The Old Dark House," and I've harped on this before, but James Whale has gotta be put up there on the Mount Rushmore of directors and artists in general. I know he was inspired by German Expressionism, but he took it to another level by making it larger-than-life. He basically invented the "under the chin" Monster Lighting and gave his creatures a realistic look. Frankenstein really does look like he's made out of cobbled-together body parts. Whale excelled at making the gruesome look real, and he could also do Sinister: look at the mean-spirited performance he got out of Claude Rains in "The Invisible Man". He's got three horror classics to his name (the two I've mentioned and "Bride of Frankenstein"), one near-classic in "Old Dark House", and he also directed the definitive 1936 version of the classic musical "Showboat" with Irene Dunne and Paul Robeson. But we're talking Halloween, and the thing with "Frankenstein", "Bride of Frankenstein" and "Invisible Man" is that they are age-proof. Those three films are as scary and weird now as they were upon release 90 years ago. Maybe even scarier and weirder (because nothing is weird anymore...)

Well, anyhow, I somehow keep going in the midst of all this madness. The bad guys have someone (or some system) that protects them, or This Thing would've been over years ago. They don't go to jail, even though some of them have done monstrous things that law enforcement must surely know about. I mean, if I know what they've done, if I've been able to figure it out and remember it despite everything that's been done to me to block and bury my memory, then surely the police know, or the FBI, or someone. So yeah, the bad guys are protected in some way, and seem blase or blithe about it. They seem not to have a care in the world. But God is gonna get 'em, and one day they will be surprised. That's all I know for certain. 

October 13, 2024

(late edit) : Before you read this blog, I beseech you to watch this interview:

 https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=1609653943295093

Once you have watched, pass it along. Thank you.

Now, for the blog...

Well folks, I don't know what to tell you. I apologize for being late again, but it's getting harder to write about things "fun and light" when there is so much evil being uncovered. There's also the onrushing election, coming at us like a runaway train, and I don't know about you but it's got me laser-focused because I've never been so worried, politically, in my life. I won't be able to relax until this woman is gone.

Did you guys see that video of Obama lecturing those young Black men, like he was their Dad? He treated them not as individuals but as a group. He even called them "brothers" (which he pronounced "bruthas"). How insulting. What an a-hole. Unlike everyone else, I never was enamored with Obama. Lefties thought he was The Messiah (wrong!) but to me, he was just the jerk who, with the help of a-hole David Axlerod, shoved Hillary out of the way of the 2008 nomination. I was a poll worker in the General Election that year (in West L.A.). We worked that day from 6:30 am to about 10 pm. I'd never seen such a long line in my life, and when it was announced that Obama won, cheers went up and horns honked in the street. I thought, "okay, people love this guy" and as the years of his presidency went by, I "kind of" grew to like him. He seemed personable and the fact that he made Hillary his Secretary of State definitely helped. But still, he wasn't much of a president. More of a slick, used car salesman. He tried to force everyone to buy Obamacare and he made the war worse in Afghanistan. In foreign policy, he wasn't much different than the Neocons, and I thought he was really just George W. Bush in a Democratic suit. The difference was that he was a much better speaker. And, sorry, but I couldn't stand Michelle. She was the most arrogant, ungracious First Lady the country has ever seen. Some say she's an America Hater.

Well, anyway. I'm disappointed that even Bill Clinton is stumping for Kamala Harris, who makes the Obamas look like Red State Patriots. Maybe he'd be the puppetmaster if she won, I don't know, but let's forget politics for the moment...(I'm thinking of moving to a Red State).

We've got 2009 to deal with. My life gets more revelatory with each day, and I realize I've been surrounded by bad guys for most of my life. One thing I want to absolutely stress, with zero doubt, is that Lilly is not included in that group. No matter what has happened in her life, or what her experience has been, she is a good person. I say this in case she is reading. I know she's on the Good Side and I'm on her side in every way, even though I haven't seen her for almost 30 years. And I know God will bless her, now and always.

This 2009 thing is so far off the charts that it almost leaves me speechless. The audacity of certain people knows no bounds. Unfortunately for them, it will also be their downfall, because hypnosis wears off. Memory eventually returns, especially when you work as hard as I have to bring it back. Karen On A Mattress In The Living Room.

These people thought they could do whatever they wanted in life, step on whoever they wanted, persecute and threaten whoever they wanted. Hound and hassle whoever they wanted. They like to control things behind the scenes, and when caught, they try to stage-manage their situation, communicating in secret to keep their stories straight.

They also blackmail each other, or threaten blackmail. One guy, a particular asshole, has an "if I go down I'm taking everybody with me" mentality.

I've been thinking a lot about Pat lately. He died broke. He lived in his car and in homeless shelters for most of the last year of his life, while he was dying of cancer. He was flat broke after working since he was 13 years old. I thought about that, and I wondered, "what happened to his money? Surely he had some savings after fifty years." I thought about the people who showed up at his memorial service who didn't really know him, and I wonder: was Pat being blackmailed? And even if it wasn't a monetary blackmail, was he being blackmailed or threatened in other ways, by the people I am talking about?

I ask this because Pat is a central figure both in 1989 and 2009. Oh yes. Pat, for all his involvement in bad scenarios (and with the wrong people) was the only person who ever tried to explain things to me. On August 11, 1989, after the Freddy Krueger movie at the UA Granada Hills (which many of the bad guys attended), he tried to explain to me what was happening in my life, which was monumental. He knew more about my life than I did. For that effort, I thank him.

There's no turning back now, from all of this. This has got to be the Endgame. The bad guys have got to be defeated. I've done all I can, and I'll keep going, but there is no turning back from what I know.

The hour of the wolf is over. ///

October 4, 2024

 Howdy folks. Well, what can even be said? I'm talking about Pete Rose, who was not only my favorite baseball player (and favorite athlete, period), and not only one of my earliest heroes (along with The Beatles), he was integral to my life. Pete was one of those guys you expected to live forever, but he didn't and his death this week came suddenly and without warning to those of us who didn't know he wasn't well. I think it's beyond cool and such a blessing that, the day before he died, he was at a memorabilia show with fans and his teammates from the Reds: Tony Perez, George Foster, Davey Concepcion and Ken Griffey. Johnny Bench appeared the next day and just missed them.

The Cincinnati Reds from 1970 to 1976 were known as The Big Red Machine, and the 1975-76 teams, which also featured the late, great Joe Morgan (and others), and which won back-to-back World Series, are considered by many fans and baseball writers to be one of the top three teams in baseball history, right up there with the 1927 Yankees.

On Monday, when the news came in, a guy on Facebook referred to Pete as "The Beatles of Baseball", and I thought "That's perfect!" because that sums up not only his impact, but the energy with which he played and loved the game, and the adulation he received from the fans. Pete Rose and Sandy Koufax were my first two sports heroes. I got into baseball before any other sport, and when I was about five, my Dad took me to Dodger Stadium to see Koufax pitch. He was from the University of Cincinnati (Dad's alma mater), so Dad (who was not a sports guy) liked him and Dad also liked the Reds. When they came to town, he took me to see them play the Dodgers, and he told me to pay attention to Pete Rose, which I did and became a lifelong fan. But it was more than just baseball with Pete, who felt like family in the the way EVH or David Lynch do. I met Pete at a car dealership in the Summer of 1984, where he was signing autographs (in the days when he did it for free). I brought my first-edition Baseball Encyclopedia that Dad gave me for Christmas 1969. Now it's signed by Pete and Tommy Lasorda.

Pete Rose loomed large in my life, even when he was banned from baseball. If you've followed this blog, you know about what happened to me in 1989 and the infamous Giamatti-Sea of Love Timeline. The "Giamatti" part refers to former Baseball Commissioner A. Bartlett Giamatti, who banned Pete from the game on August 24 1989, then dropped dead from a heart attack one week later on September 1. My Dad called me that afternoon and said "That's what he gets for f-king with Pete Rose!" That's how revered Pete was in our family, and in Cincinnati, and among hundreds of thousands of fans around the baseball world. It's so great he was with his teammates on the last day of his life. Oh, and one more thing: I know you should never say never, but nobody's ever gonna break his record of 4256 hits.

In political news, how do you guys like Doug Emhoff, the "embodiment of the new masculinity"? If you couldn't tell he was a phony from his everpresent, pasted-on grin, and if the pregnant nanny didn't do it for you, maybe the revelation that he allegedly smacked his girlfriend (hard enough to "spin her around") will convince you that he's a seriously bad guy. This could be the October Surprise, and if you read the Daily Mail's highly detailed account, it apears to be true. Though the sources remain unnamed, if any of them come forward it will finish Kamala's campaign. Her husband, "the Wife Guy", turns out to be a hard core a-hole. Thank God both of them will be gone in five weeks, her political career will be over and we'll never have to hear from her again. I've been telling you that we are in a battle between Good and Evil, and in my own life that could not be more true. The 2009 revelations are turning out to be as bad as 1989, if on a much smaller scale, but they are of the same occult nature. The people involved are sick in the head, sick in spirit, sick in soul, and worse, they are evil. 

On the large scale and rippling outward, the media is evil. Hollywood is evil. Everyone knows it. I know it first hand. P. Diddy, as evil as he is, is just a fall guy for thoroughgoing corruption and obscenity. The Left doesn't care, which is why I jumped ship. JD Vance showed them all up, and Walz - even though he was goofy and as nervous as could be - seemed like a decent guy (though he's got a problem with fibbing). I wish the ticket was Vance/Walz. And JD will be president some day. But we need Donald Trump now, in order to win, because if we don't end Queen Kamala's career, she will end this country with her woke movement pushing behind her. That is their goal, to end this country. Imagine what George Washington thinks of what America has become.

I am trying my best, but I feel like a voice in the wilderness, because I've been writing and talking and spiritually shouting to the Lord and the Universe, and to anyone in the world who will listen. I've been doing this for 35 years but have never recieved a single response concerning The Truth, and we all know what that is.

(deep breath...) 

Well, anyhow, in case you didn't see my recent Facebook post, "Pearl the Wonder Girl" is now available on Amazon (in paperback with a beautiful blue cover).

I don't have a Montgomery Clift movie for you, but I did order "Freud" on dvd and we'll watch it as soon as it arrives in the mail. Instead, to kick off Halloween Season, I watched two old classics this week, "The Man Who Changed His Mind" starring Boris Karloff, and "Invisible Ghost" with Bela Lugosi. Both have been reviewed before, here at the blog, and I'm sure you can find them by checking the Blogger search engine.

In music, I've been listening to "Degradation Trip" by Jerry Cantrell. Jerry, of course, is the founder of Alice in Chains and also a musical mastermind and self-described "curator of riffs" with a distinct guitar sound, and even though he had one of the great lead singers in the late Layne Staley, Jerry is a fine singer himself whose recognizable voice was half of the tight AIC harmonies. The band was known for many qualities, and among them I think the vocal harmonies should be emphasized. One of my favorite things about Jerry Cantrell that casual fans may not know, is that he was a choir singer throughout high school, and not only that, but he became the choir president and his choir won many Washington state competitions. When AIC achieved their first gold record, Jerry sent a copy to his choir director. Readers of this blog will know why that endears him to me, besides his great music with Alice in Chains: I was a pretty good choir singer myself and absolutely revere my five years as a tenor at the Reseda Methodist Church. Choir singing rules and I hope to do it again one day.

Well, that's about all for the moment. Back to the battle of Good and Evil. It's either me or them. Stay tuned.

September 28, 2024

 Howdy folks, and Happy Saturday. Sorry about the delay in posting. I guess it's because I don't have a lot of news to report; I'm just trying to ride the election out as it's made me more nervous than any election in my lifetime. I dread the thought of this narcissistic woman becoming president, but what's made my nervous tension worse is the growing realization that I've been targeted by predators for much of my adult life (in some cases for reasons known only to them), and what I have learned - just in the past week since I last wrote to you - has floored me. It's been hard enough dealing with the monumental 1989 issue for almost half my life, but now I know that I was targeted and abused by a predator as recently as 2009, when I was a housesitter in Reseda. After a while, a person like me - who has been repeatedly a target of predators - can feel very alone in the world. It's frightening to know that someone has fixated on you, and has known things about you that you yourself were not aware of. In my case, the predatory person was aware that I was (and, perhaps still am) susceptible to hypnosis. This person was (and I assume still is) skilled at inducing a hypnotic state, which is not always the "zombie state" depicted in popular culture. Depending on the level of trance induced, a hypnotized person can carry on a conversation with the predator, all the way down to being immobilized and barely able to speak, but the important thing is that a hypnotist can block your memory of what they've done. This happened to me while I was housesitting in 2009, and because the incident was witnessed by a third party, I have considered talking to a lawyer. Whatever I decide, my newfound knowledge of 2009 is going to change things. In the meantime, I am praying for the future of this country. Imagine me, of all people, rooting for Donald Trump. That's how serious the situation is. Please God, save us from Kamala Harris.

I have a Montgomery Clift movie for you: "From Here to Eternity", the Best Picture winner of 1954 (it won 8 Oscars overall). I need to quickly mention that Monty never won a Best Actor which is a total joke, especially when a hambone like Daniel Day Lewis won three. Anyway, his role in "Eternity" may be the one he is most known for. It's one of the greatest, most legendary films ever made and he's positively iconic in it. The top-billed Buht Lahncahstah is ostensibly the lead, and he is great too, but Monty is the centerpiece, it's his movie all the way. He plays "Private Robert E Lee Prewitt", a bugler who's been transferred at his own request to Schofield Army Base in Hawaii. He's also an Army boxing champ. The base Major knows this and wants him for the Schofield squad, so he (the Major) can look good if the team wins. He hopes to make General if that happens. When Monty makes it known that he doesn't box anymore because he blinded an opponent in the ring, the Major and his subordinate officers don't care. They want Monty on the team, no ifs ands or buts, and the more he refuses, the more they make his military life hell. "An Officer and a Gentleman" copied this motif decades later. While the persecution of Private Prewitt continues, Buht Lahncahstah is secrecty stealing the Major's wife (played by the great Deborah Kerr). Their make-out scene on the beach, in the rolling waves on the sand, is one of the most famous in all of cinema (even though it lasts mere seconds). Monty seeks refuge at a local dance club, tagging along with his pal "Maggio", the base cook, played by Frank Sinatra who deservedly won Best Supporting Actor. It is at this club that Monty meets "Lorene" (Donna Reed), a good-time gal from the Midwest who's wound up in Hawaii due to bad luck.

As for Burt Lancaster, his illicit relationship with Deborah Kerr is pure lust, or love/hate. Burt thinks Kerr is a tramp for sleeping with dozens of enlisted men, until she tearfully explains the reason for her infidelity. The psychological motivations for male versus female cheating are broached in a quick exchange of dialogue that is bold for 1953. I don't know if it is true that men cheat for biological reasons (lust, libido) and women only cheat for emotional reasons (abandonment, revenge, feeling let down) but I imagine the truth is somewhere in the middle. 

Back to Monty, he's a soldier, first and foremost. There's no way that the Major is gonna drum him out of the Army for not boxing. In a moment of doubt, he asks Donna Reed to marry him and go back to the States. Deborah Kerr also wants Burt to marry her. She says she'll divorce the Major to make it happen.

Into the mix is thrown a sadistic Sergeant of the Guard (the head of the Military Police), played by Ernest Borgnine. His character hates "Wops", and he singles out Ol' Blue Eyes for abuse. Frankie, rebelling, winds up as his prisoner, and I can't tell ya what happens after that without giving spoilers. Some fans say that "From Here to Eternity" is a soap opera, and I agree that it is, in format. But it's infused with deep meaning, especially as set against the coming of Pearl Harbor. Monty goes all out in his portrayal of a dedicated soldier. Though he has been arguably greater, in the dramatic sense, in other roles (like "Judgement at Nuremberg" or "A Place in the Sun"), nowhere has he had more screen presence or shown more force in a role. His showdown with Ernest Borgnine is brief but climactic. "Eternity" is a double-troubled romance featuring individualist personalities conscripted into World War 2. Let's end the war in Ukraine and prevent WW3. Vote Trump, I beeseech you, especially if you live in a battleground state. 

Hey, what do you guys think of the ICE statistics that were released yeterday? There are over 13,000 convicted murderers running loose in this country illegally, not to mention 15,000 convicted rapists. That's why they have no crime in Venezuela or El Salvador anymore - they shipped 'em all up here. How anyone can vote for Kamala Harris is a mystery...

I listen to the music of Richard Wagner every night. I almost need to pull myself away so I can listen to other classical favorites, but I can't and at the moment don't want to. Emotionally speaking, he may have been the greatest composer who ever lived, and when you hear the 9 minute opening to his final opera "Parsifal", you'll understand why. It may be the most profoundly "human" piece of music ever written.

What it means to be human. That's what we all wonder, and yet we have allowed society to degrade so that we can avoid that wonder and the simple magic of crows, squirrels and bunnies, to be replaced by smash n' grab robberies, re-inflamed "racial" issues that were settled in the 1960s, high-powered cars that allow immature drivers to rule over the roadways, and not enough police to stop them. We need a restoration of sanity, law and order and peace, and an end to chaos and mayhem.

Next time I will have a happier blog. It's been a tough week. Stay tuned.

September 20, 2024

 Howdy folks. Well, there's a ton of news as always these days, but I want to mention the arrest of P. Diddy, aka Sean Combs, which has gone somewhat under the radar compared to election reporting, the second Trump assassination attempt, and the Springfield situation. Diddy, in case you haven't heard, was arrested for sex trafficking among other things, and the details that have emerged about his crimes include his lifestyle and the parties he was famous for throwing at one of his mansions. They were known as "freak offs", and were exactly the kind of parties I have described here at the blog since 1998, when I first began writing about Hollywood's "Porno People", as I've termed them. I was the victim of such a group. As an aside, Diddy made videotapes of the orgies at his parties (just like the people who victimized me), in order to have a blackmail hold over the attendees. He also threatened anyone who wanted to leave. Getting back to my story, I - as most blog readers well know - was kidnapped by my next-door neighbor, a CSUN cinema professor, who was one of the leaders of a similarly styled sex-and-pornography ring that operated in my Northridge neighborhood and had connections to the so-called "music" industry. I was kidnapped and tortured by this psychopath because I unwittingly stumbled upon his sex group, which included many people I knew at that time, some of whom were also involved in cocaine trafficking. CSUN still employs the professor who kidnapped me, a scandal that - if uncovered - would make Penn State's coverup of Jerry Sandusky look small potatoes in comparison.

The Porno People are nothing less than pure evil. I could name individuals from families right here in Northridge who have been part of these occult organisations. These are the people I mean when I say "God's gonna get 'em" because Lord Knows law enforcement won't or can't because Hollywood owns the police and everyone knows it. They also own the Democratic Party. Jesse Watters of Fox News says that the Diddy arrest could take down the entire "music" industry, but I'll only believe that when I see it because they could've arrested Diddy 25 years ago. That's how long I've been writing about these people, and I will eventually tell everything I know when I write my five part book series "What Happened in Northridge", the story of 1989.

One day, The Porno People (who should really be called The Violent People) are gonna go down, and they're gonna go down so hard and so far into the void that they'll wish they were in Hell because Hell would be a vacation compared to what's in store for them. Sorry to go on a tirade, but as you can tell, I despise these people with a black passion. God's gonna get 'em, you can count on it.

Well anyhow, "Ya bettah thank a union membah"!...(deep breath)...what else have we got? A brief note on Ryan Routh....Manchurian Candidate much? Dig into this guy's background and tell me he's not a CIA asset.

I have a movie for you: "The Pajama Game"(1957), a musical I remember from early childhood. Though the film was released before I was born, it began as a Broadway play and they put on a version of it when my sister was a drama student in junior high school. The storyline involves a labor dispute between workers and the owner of a pajama factory, but that is only the context that bookends the romance between John Raitt (Bonnie's Dad), who plays the factory superintendent and Doris Day, the workers' union leader ("Ya bettah thank a union membah!") I love musicals as you know, and especially those from the 1950s with major league production numbers and art direction, and "Pajama Game" excels in this category. It may be the most "purely musical" musical we've reviewed because, rather than interspersing songs between lengthy blocks of story, this movie features one song after another, many in tightly choreographed, lavishly produced dance sequences. Of course, "The Umbrellas of Cherbourg" took the meaning of "musical" to it's appreciable limit by having all the dialogue sung. If you've never seen it, check it out. It's one of my favorite movies. But back to "Pajama Game", the plot, such as it is, involves a labor dispute over a 7 1/2 cent pay raise. Showcased in a supporting role is a very talented actress and dancer named Carol Chaney, whose life was cut short by diabetes. I guarantee you'll be looking her up on IMDB when the movie is over, and you'll recognize Eddie Foy Jr., the long-time jack-of-all-trades performer who began life as one of The Seven Little Foys vaudeville act. The film was shot on the Warner Brothers backlot (which I had the pleasure of touring last April) and inside it's legendary soundstages. The main floor of the pajama factory was built inside one of these stages and looks incredible onscreen. I haven't worn pajamas in years but the movie made me want to rush out and buy some. "The Pajama Game" is a 10/10 classic, and once again the IMDB reviewers agree. Give it a view and get hooked on classic musicals.

To get an early start on Halloween season, I also watched "Two On a Gillotine"(1965), another film from my childhood (the release date was January 13, 1965, one month before I started kindergarten). I remember my parents went to see it, and I was interested in the word "guillotine", and why it was pronounced "ghee-o-teen". Mom and Dad told me it was a scary movie (Dad may have said "Ghee-o-teens" chopped people's heads off), and when they came back, they said it was really good. Having now seen it myself, I agree, but I think it was too long. It's more a suspense film than a horror movie, with Dean Jones and Connie Stevens giving it a tinge of romance. She's the daughter of a recently deceased illusionist (Caesar Romero) who has left her his 300K fortune (when 300K was a fortune). The movie opens with an onstage illusion, then cuts to Romero's funeral. The reading of his will takes place on the stage of the Hollywood Bowl in a classic use of mid-60s location. Jones, a huge star for Disney in the 60s and 70s, plays a reporter trying to get the scoop on Stevens, Romero's daughter, who is an exact double for her mother, who mysteriously disappeared decades earlier. The will states that Stevens must reside in her father's mansion for a week to receive her inheritance. Romero claimed that he would return from the dead as his final act of magic. Dean Jones is on hand to debunk this, but winds up falling in love with Connie Stevens. 

The movie was directed by William Conrad of "Cannon" fame. He makes a Hitchcockian appearance mid-film, and keep an eye out for a young Richard Kiel in the opening funeral scene. The running time is 107 minutes. 15 to 20 could've been cut, but then you'd miss some great shots of Pacific Ocean Park, aka P.O.P., the legendary So Cal amusement park that was built on the Santa Monica Pier to compete with Disneyland but became synonymous with hippies and bikers by the end of the 1960s. The best scenes in the movie feature Virginia Gregg as Connie Stevens' former nanny. The Great Parley Baer plays Caesar Romero's manager. The last twenty minutes redeem the horror premise. Conrad directs and photographs in black and white in the style of William Castle. "Two on a Guillotine" is definitely worth a view for that unique, centered, mid-60s ethos that existed for a brief time between the sunshine of JFK's Camelot and the wild fluctuations of the counterculture era. The 60s were a trip, because each year had a style of its own... 

I am sorry to report that Cupid's has a green fence around it, which means it will soon be demolished in one of the great tragedies of modern history. I can't imagine what they will put up in it's place, but I'll guarantee it will go out of business because the location was only meant for a small hot dog stand - it's in between a regular Northridge house and a small corner strip mall that does minimal business. The Cupid's lot is tiny; thank God they can't erect one of those postage-stamp-footprint (but tall) apartment complexes that have become ubiquitous around Los Angeles, but they would if they could, because developers are in their own way as evil as the porno people. Anyway, I am sorry the Cupid's owners sold the property, but I understand they were getting older and had no one to take over the business.

And that's about all I know on this end-of-Summer day. I'm blowing my mind on 2009 and I'm working very hard on my next book. Stay tuned. 

September 13, 2024 (Friday the 13th)

 Howdy folks, and happy Friday the 13th. Well, the debate is old news by now, so I can't add much to what's already been said, but even though the corporate media pundits have claimed that Kamala crushed Trump, it doesn't seem to have helped her campaign. She's still leading nationally (in the popular vote) by 1.5%, the same number as pre-debate, while Trump has taken back the electoral college prognostication (287 to 251), which had Kamala ahead before the debate. Therefore, she's actually doing worse, electorally, than she was before the debate in which she supposedly tore Trump a new one.

And that's because people aren't as stupid as the media thinks they are. I won't go on a tirade because I know she's your gal, but c'mon. Even if you loved her schtick on the debate stage (and I agree that she's a great comedian), you still have to admit that she didn't answer any policy questions except with vague platitudes, and when you go into the grocery store, eggs are still 8 bucks a dozen. Bread is 6 bucks. A regular size bag of chips is 7 bucks. They give out inflation percentage numbers like 9%, 20%, but in Los Angeles, many products have doubled in price, like milk, which went from 1.99 a gallon to 3.99 a gallon. That's 100% inflation. Egg prices have tripled and quadrupled. And it's not just the inflation (though that is reason enough not to vote for her), it's also the radical far-left wokeness that sides with criminals over law abiding citizens, that allows the border to be overrun, and that promotes the kind of cultural and transhumanist insanity we are seeing. If I had kids, I doubt I'd let them attend a public school, not with the curriculum they're teaching.

I hope she not only loses but loses big, maybe even by 75 to 100 electoral votes, so that the Democrats will never try this again. Don't run someone who's this far left. I mean, she makes Bernie Sanders look like a centrist. 

Well anyhow. I don't have a Montgomery Clift movie for you (still waiting for the dvd to arrive at the Libe). Instead, I've been watching episodes of "Millennium", that other series from Chris Carter with an even darker theme than "The X-Files". I own the complete series on dvd and run through it about every five years or so. I've also been watching eps of a show called "Promised Land", which aired for three years (1996-99) during the time I lived with my Mom. In fact, it was Mom who introduced me to the show, about a family who has lost their home in an economic downturn and is travelling the country in a trailer. They drive wherever the road takes them, finding jobs in small towns, and they help others and are helped along the way. It's kind of a Christian, middle-class family version of "Easy Rider" without the drugs. Like Dennis Hopper and Peter Fonda, the family is "discovering America". The mother is an ex-hippie and rock groupie (there's even an episode starring Joe Walsh), while Dad (Gerald McRaney of "Simon and Simon" fame) is a Vietnam vet who lost his job when the factory closed down. Every episode has a humanitarian problem to solve. The show was a spin-off of "Touched by an Angel", which was my Mom's favorite show at that time. I enjoyed "Touched" also, but liked "Promised Land" enough to buy the complete series on dvd, and in watching it now, it not only reminds me of the years I lived with Mom, but the late 1990s in general, just before the Internet took over and when only a fraction of the population had cell phones. I think it was a better and friendlier time, and there's no reason we can't return to it. We really don't need to live this current lifestyle. We got along fine in a world without gadgets.

I've been listening to David Gilmour's excellent new album, "Luck and Strange", which - besides his singular voice and soaring, trademark guitar solos - features a poignant song called "Between Two Points", sung by his daughter Romany, whose own angelic voice you may remember from pandemic times, when the Gilmours were making podcasts from their barn as "The Von Trapped Family". Their show was hosted by son Charlie Gilmour, and featured the whole family (including the dog) on a red velvet-draped set. David Gilmour would often sing a song and was usually accompanied by Romany on harp and vocals, and she got a lot of positive comments, some of which (including my own) suggested that David record with her. Now, he's not only done that, but he's bringing Romany along on his upcoming tour, which promises to be fantastic. I'll be going to at least one show and hopefully more. It's amazing to see artists nearing 80, like Gilmour and Jon Anderson, who are still at the top of their game.

In books, I've just finished Paul Tremblay's "Horror Movie", which I highly recommend. Talk about an original writer. Tremblay gets inside your head and messes around in there. Everything is internalised in his books, he talks to himself and second-guesses his characters. Give him a read for something entirely different, and while I'm at it I might as well make another plug for my own recently released book "Pearl the Wonder Girl", available now at Lulu.com. Here's the copy and paste link:

 www.lulu.com/search?sortBy=RELEVANCE&page=1&q=pearl+the+wonder+girl&pageSize=10&adult_audience_rating=00

Or just go to Lulu.com and enter "Pearl the Wonder Girl" onto the search window. You'll be glad you did.

Well, that's about all for today. Sorry for the brevity. Next time we'll have a Monty Movie and we'll soon be starting Halloween Season which will mean a massive, in-depth search for unseen horror flicks. If it's anywhere near as successful as last year's effort, it'll be a doozy. I'm also working hard on my next book (due out hopefully by my birthday), which began life as a caregiving story but has bloomed into quite a bit more. For example: have you ever wondered if your neighbors might be secret agents?

What part of "Karen on a mattress in the living room" do you not understand? 

September 6, 2024

 Howdy folks, and Happy Friday. Well, I didn't go to the Rainbow Backyard Bash, and I'm glad I stayed home because it was exactly as I predicted: a jam-packed sardine can on hot asphalt. I just don't do that anymore. My rule of thumb is The Crumminess Potential. I have a checklist, including the type of music, number of bands, general admission vs. reserved seating, outdoor vs. indoor, ticket price, venue and driving distance, and mostly, how much do I want or need to see the band or artist? I weigh all the factors, and if the Potential for Crumminess outweighs the Potential for an Awesome Experience, I stay home. Grimsley is the exact opposite. He'll drive anywhere and jump through any hoops for just about anyone, even tribute bands. But I have too many other things I'd rather do. I've been to over 800 concerts, seen every band I ever wanted to see (with a few exceptions), and unless a concert is easy for me to attend, I have no desire to hassle it. The Rainbow Bash was for diehard metalheads, which I am not (and never really was). I like shows in theaters, or small clubs, even arenas, anywhere with reserved seats. Anyhow, I didn't go. Grim did. He had a hard time finding parking, and then had to deal with the large crowd. His review? "It was pretty boring." That's because KK's Priest don't have many good songs. That's really all you need to know.

It was 114 degrees yesterday, a genuine rip-roaster, and it's 112 today. Remember that day about three or four years ago when it was 128? Cue Chris Farley: "That was...(shrug) awesome". 

I have a Montgomery Clift movie for you: "The Search"(1948), his second film (and one of his best, though they all were). Interestingly, it is also the third Monty movie (out of only 17 he made) that is set in postwar Germany (the other two being "Judgement at Nuremberg" and "The Big Lift"). Here, we are in the American Zone in utterly destroyed Berlin (it looks like a nuclear wasteland, truly bombed into the Stone Age), where - as the movie opens - refugee children are being brought by train to displaced person camps from all over the formerly Nazi occupied territories. Many of them are terrifed, even of their Allied rescuers. To them, anyone in a uniform is a threat. They're also frightened of ambulances, since that is what the Germans used, at first, as mobile gas chambers. Most of the children are orphans whose parents were killed in concentration camps.

We are soon brought to focus on one little boy, the blonde and frail 11 year old "Karel" (Ivan Jandl) from Czechoslovakia who's so terrorized by his wartime experience that he's gone mute. When the kids in his rescue ambulance break out and escape, he runs into the hills with another boy, who drowns in a river. Karel hides in the ruined buildings on the outskirts of town, becoming feral, and it is there that he comes into contact with Monty, a US security officer. Monty sees Karel peeking down at him from the hillside and offers him a sandwich, then has to chase him when he runs away. Soon, after Karel is subdued (succumbing to hunger), it becomes a Buddy Movie. Because Karel won't speak, Monty doesn't know a thing about him, no name, no country, nothing. There's only the tattoo number on his arm, with an "A" for Auschwitz, but the fair-haired Karel doesn't appear to be Jewish. Monty begins a clerical search for the boy's parents or relatives (hence the title), and in a subplot, it turns out that another little boy (who is Jewish) has appropriated Karel's name, assuming he drowned after the ambulance escape. Monty eventually discovers that Karel is from a family of Czech musicians, showing that artists and intellectuals were also persecuted.

But he still can't get Karel to speak, and that's a problem, so Monty starts from scratch, trying to get the kid to learn to say "yes" and "no". Then he shows him pictures of various animals and objects, to teach him phonetic English, and because Karel now has food and shelter, he trusts Monty and becomes an excellent student. Then one day he has memory of his mother, from whom he was separated by the Nazis years earlier. He asks Monty what a "mother" is, and the movie threatens to turn tragic. "The Search" now moves in both directions, because Karel's mama (Jarmila Novotna) is looking for him, too. After surviving Mauthausen, she starts canvasing childrens' camps all over the Allied Zones, and when she can't locate Karel, she pauses her search to care for the orphaned camp kids.

Meanwhile Monty, not knowing Karel's name, had dubbed him "Jim" and plans to adopt him and take him to America. He assumes Karel's mother is dead, which leads to the film's climax. "The Search" is top notch early Clift, who plays Straight Man to the stone-faced but angelic Karel, who comes to love Monty as a father figure but ultimately wants to find his mother. Once again, the IMDB ratings and reviews are super high, just like in "Wild River". Ivan Jandl won a children's Oscar for his performance (when they still gave those out). Monty was a natural at easygoing comedy, and the early and lengthy bonding scenes between his character and Karel are some of the best of his career. He's playing off a scene-stealing urchin and he knows it. According to IMDB, before it was released on dvd, "The Search"was the most requested film on TCM. It's an absolute classic, with historic post-war footage of a time when the world could have ended but was rebuilt instead. 

This was the 13th Monty Movie in our ongoing retrospective. We have four films left. Coming up will be "From Here to Eternity" (hopefully next blog), then we may have to purchase "Freud" and "The Defector" on dvd because those are not available at the library. And finally, we'll search high and low for a copy of "Raintree County", which doesn't seem to be available except for an Italian version which is unfortunately in PAL format. But I'll keep looking 'cause we've gotta see it.      

Folks, I must say that the recently discovered 2009 Housesitting Incident (as I will call it) is freaking me out, because the person who hypnotized me actually did it more than once, and it freaks me out because I am learning that I am (or have been) suceptible to hypnosis, and that this person was aware of that fact, and used that awareness to plan to take advantage of me, in advance, likely before I was hired as the housesitter.

Would you like to know something scary? A person suceptible to hypnosis can be immobilized by a person skilled in hypnotic technique. Yes indeed. A skilled hypnotist can convince you that you can't move your arm, or can't move your legs, or that you can't move a muscle. During the Main Incident, I was at one point in a standing position but entirely immobilzed, so much that I could barely speak. I remember that it took extreme concentration just to croak a few words out, and I told the person - in front of a witness - "i...can...see...everything...you...are...doing...to...me..." I'm using lower case letters to emphasize how weak my voice was, but I wanted the person, and the witness, to know that I was aware of everything that was going on, despite the fact that I couldn't move.

Prior to the Incident, which took place in December 2009, this person had hypnotized me at least once (and likely more than once) in a sort of "trial run" before they eventually advanced to their main objective. On those early occasions, which took place in the house months prior to the main event, the person may have tested my suceptibility by, at first, merely "freezing" my arm, or maybe stopping me in my tracks with a keyword. That's how it is done, with keywords (hypnotic suggestion), and talismans (like a coin, perhaps a silver dollar). This person also used a penlight and a mirror.

One question I have is this: how and where did the person learn hypnosis? I mean, it's not like it's an everyday skill. But more than that, and way more scary and crazy, is how did the person know I was susceptible in the first place? The only way that is possible is if the person knew the details of what happened to me in 1989, when I was hypnotised and put in trance states on multiple occasions by several different people and one in particular whose name you'd recognize. Hypnotic states can also be achieved with surreptitiously administered drugs (i.e to "roofie" someone), and/or with certain radio wave frequencies.

What the person in question did, in 2009, was sinister because they had control over me. The ultimate reason they did what they did is kind of pathetic (and there's no doubt the person is mentally ill) but that doesn't excuse it, because it was nevertheless criminal and profoundly wrong. Slipping a drug into someone's soft drink, and then whipping out your penlight and mirror? And planning it all in advance? Yeah, that's sicko stuff. Boy, could I tell a story to a prosecutor (calling Kamala Harris...not!). 

Well anyhow, I somehow keep going, even if it feels like my life has been some kind of occult nightmare. Maybe God is using me to root out evil people. I hope to find answers one day.