Slowing Down

My good friend, the great Rob Lindquist, called me to catch up on things. We are childhood friends, one of my ''Band Of Brothers'' who has always been there for me and also has rode along with me in our younger days seeking a good time. Now, we are in our mid-40's. No longer do we burn the midnight oil and bring up the sun. We are middle-aged and move at a slower speed. On the phone, Robbie was telling me about his new house, his love for his wife, Janet, and, how he has become quite the hermit. Rob said that he doesn't go out of the house much nowadays unless he has to, such as work and the bar he owns in Island Lake [ ''Janimals'']. I related completely. I told Rob that I am a sort of recluse these days myself, as compared to the past. I am on vacation this week and many of my co-workers are traveling here and there. I had a chance to go away, but, I decided to stay at home and let the days lead me. This, I told Robbie, is how I pretty much lead life now that I am 47. Slower pace, let life come to me instead of me trying to grasp life. It is calmer and more peaceful. I like it. Rob and I ended our phone call with the plans on getting together soon. That is, if one of us leaves our home...... When I was younger, so much younger than today, I hit life pretty good socially. My twenties and thirties--- well, most of my thirties--- were always in pursuit of a good time. And, being young, you can extend the good times sometimes into several days without falling down. You can live fast, but, still be in reasonable shape to go to work the next day. The energy and vitality of youth is your best friend. Of course, not everyone does this. Many people I know married young and settled into a calm domestic life. Fine, good for them! But, I was seeking experiences that would make me live life at a faster pace...... My early adult years were the late 80's and early 90's. And, the city of Chicago was jumping back then!! These were the days of endless nightclubs and stopping at bars where I knew people who worked and played there. The Chicago Bears were still in the afterglow of the Super Bowl season of 1985, so, there was a buzz in the city. They were superstars and the city was alive with the promise of their presence at any establishment. And, there were times when I brushed up next to an athlete. I remember being at the Limelight nightclub, which had its 15 minutes of fame back then. There were Bears galore populating the room. Naturally, they were swarmed with women and groupies. God, these guys were engulfed with these hot babes!!! I was starting my acting career back then. Seeing the action these boys got I knew there were benefits to being famous besides the quality of the work. You know this type of adulation happens, but, when you see it first-hand it is extraordinary. I will not name names because I will invoke the Guy Code of protecting my fellow man. Some of these guys were single. Some gave interviews on how happily married they were. Uh, ok, I will go along with that. But, I saw things and heard things that made life very interesting around this time. One name I will mention, former Chicago Bull Scottie Pippin. I was a fan of his playing, but, not the man. I saw how he treated women and played the race card when he didn't get his way. He was a cheap bastard. He earned the nickname ''No-Tippin Pippin.'' One night I saw his ego raging. Maybe, it had something to do with the mysterious liquid dripping from a needle that he was shooting between his toes........ Now, I was no tempting death type of person. I hit the nights well and played well. However, I always had a compass in my system and that compass let me know when I needed to pull back. I was around people who flirted with death and enjoyed walking on that tightrope between life and death. I would warn them. But, they did what they wanted to do. These were bar friends, not real friends. Had they been real friends there would have been no way I would have put up with their self-destruction. I would have done what all of us would do and that is slap them around and make them see the light of their follies. With the bar friends---- more acquaintances than anything---I would give some friendly advice. They would listen and do their own thing. Some saw the end of the tunnel and straightened up. And, some didn't.......... I met many a fine woman in my fun-seeking. Another great gift of being young is the opening up of your social life. I have my stories, like most single males. However, I was raised to be respectful of women and to treat them right. I have always been proud of my relationships, whether they be short-term or long-term. As all of you that know me are aware of, I can be a handful to be with. I am forever grateful to any woman, past or present or future, who handles being with me. One pride I have had, going back to how I was raised, is that I keep a silence on my adventures and stories with women. I was raised in that long-ago time when you kept your private life private, didn't ask people how much they make a year, or what they did in the bedroom. But, trust me--- I had fun!!!!!!........ So, now I am middle-age and it is slower. I am grateful for the past adventures, but, I would not go back at all and do it again if you paid me. I did it once. That was plenty. I have my memories. Still, I scratch my head sometimes at my younger friends and their lack of having fun. Some people I know, whether I work with them or know them socially, don't know how to go out and light up the town. They say they want to and they look at me to light the candle for them. I apologize and say. ''No thanks, I have been there and done that. But, you need to go out and live life to its fullest while you still have the energy.'' I am never telling them to do what I did, for I do not believe in telling anyone on how to live their lives. I just give them some friendly social advice.  They need to go out into the world and sniff around. Some fun times exist out there. Seek them out...... As you get older, of course, your perception on life changes and the things that were important to you back then are no longer important. Yes, it is nice to make a lot of money in your job, but, it is paramount that you enjoy what you are doing more. No longer do you have to try to control life. Let life give you what you can handle. I understand this now and enjoy leading a calmer life. When I do go out socially [ and, I do. I am not the big hermit I say I am] it is with a clearer mind and easier speed. I look in the mirror at my eyes  and I see someone who has seen a lot, both good and bad. With experience comes knowledge. And, with knowledge, hopefully, comes growth as a human being. I know I am much more of a nicer person than I was twenty years ago. Trial and error. And, I got where I am by living like I did and learning. The times were great back then, but, I am much happier now going in slow motion...... I have a few more days left in my vacation. I don't know what is planned, but, I will embrace it. I am scheduled to make a personal appearance at a bar with my friends Jenny, Jeanine, and Laureen tomorrow. Beyond that, who knows. Maybe, a long-overdue reunion with the great Robert Lindquist at his bar ''Janimals.'' Maybe, watching ''March Madness'' with another group of friends. And, maybe, I will sit calmly and peacefully in my easy chair reading a book and enjoying the serenity..... But, first, I need a nap. Typing all of this made me sleepy........

''Have You Heard The Story About.......''

Let me start out by saying that the following stories are pure rumors. Not based on fact, but, strong rumors that have been going around for years. So, let me also use the terms ''allegedly'' and ''apparently'' when describing the stories. There. Now that I have gotten that out of the way let us all turn our attention to Hollywood rumors that might interest us. These are just a handful, for Hollywood has always been a hot-bread of stories designed to smear the rich and famous. Some stories turn out to be true. Others fall by the wayside. But, the stories below have stuck around for decades, therefore, some truth might be the case in these rumors. Here they are, in no particular order..... Richard Gere loves pets. Around 1990, Richard Gere was having a career resurgence. During the 80's he made a series of bad movies that brought him down in luster. But, in 1990, Gere rebounded big time with ''Pretty Woman'' and ''Black Rain'' [ which has a bar called ''Scoleri's'']. So, he was hot again. And, being hot, a very strange story came along with the career upswing. The story was that Gere was rushed to a hospital in L.A. needing emergency treatment. The emergency? Well, apparently, there was a small gerbel stuck in Mr. Gere's anus. The gerbel, dead on arrival, was used as a sexual practice. Now, this use of a furried friend has been common usage in gay circles for a long time. There is some kind of sexual gratification when the little fella is shoved up the backside. And, according to this story, Richard Gere was in the hospital for this reason. Now, Richard Gere's sexual orientation has been subject to vast rumors for years. It is not as strong as the rumors about Tom Cruise or John Travolta, but, the stories have persisted. Gere denied the story of the gerbel and has always maintained his heterosexuality. This story has grown a life of its own and has become Hollywood folklore. If he says it didn't happen, ok. Still...... Jamie Lee Curtis has interesting sexual parts. This once hot actress has long been bedeviled by the stories that she has male sexual parts. The stories have been around for years--- along with the rumors of her being a lesbian. This is one story that really strains credibility. Many of us males, who drooled over her during her nude scenes in the 1980's, have always laughed this story off. For one thing, she has been naked in many movies and, after close examination of her body by me, I don't see little Elvis hanging there. Movie crews, notorious for spilling secrets of nude stars, have not reported that Ms. Curtis is a she-male. It seems to be a rumor without foundation, but, I will chalk it up as a long-standing rumor that makes my list. The question about her being a lesbian is an open question. She is married to the very funny comedian Christopher Guest, himself the subject of rumors about his sexual behavior. Hollywood has a long history of friends who are gay, getting married so it doesn't destroy their careers. This story about Jamie Lee Curtis seems to have more legs than the male organ story. ........ Clara Bow--- All American. Clara Bow was a silent film star in the 1920's. She was called the ''IT GIRL'' because she was the top sex symbol of her time. She received thousands of letters of mail from males asking for her hand in marriage. She was ''Miss Pure And Innocent''. Well, you are ahead of me, I'm sure. She was also one of the most man-hungry women of her era. No problem there, everyone is entitled to a strong sexual appetite. One story about her carousing has been retold for generations. It concerns her having a little party for her favorite football team from USC. Ms. Bow decided to show the fellas how much she enjoyed their playing by taking on all of them on in a single afternoon. Yep, all of the guys lined outside her bedroom door waiting to gain entrance so they could go downfield and put one through the uprights. Dozens of guys took a shot at Clara. One guy was allegedly John Wayne, a pigskin hero at college and a foreskin hero to Clara Bow. At the end of the afternoon, Clara bid them all adieu and I'm thinking went to the hospital. Maybe, she was in the emergency room with Richard Gere's grandfather. Anyway, this was a one time date for Clara. As in the case of most gangbangs, the guys say they will call you the next day, but, they won't. This story has amused people for years. Clara Bow denied it to her grave. ....... Danny Thomas likes strange foods. Danny Thomas was a so-so comedian from the 1940's and 50's. He had a successful show called ''Make Room For Daddy'' and was a very successful producer of TV shows like ''The Dick Van Dyke Show'' and ''The Andy Griffith Show''. His daughter, Marlo, starred for many years in the show ''That Girl''. He was show biz royalty. And, he also started the ''St Jude's Hospital'', which has always taken on sick people regardless of their economic status. The motto of the hospital is that they will never turn anyone away. This one act of human kindness should have guaranteed automatic admission into Heaven for Danny, who died in 1991. He seemed like a good guy. But, a story about him has always stumped and repulsed people for ages. It seems, hold onto your stomach here, that Danny Thomas had a fetish for eating human excrement. He shared this secret with family and friends. Danny said that he liked the taste of human waste and recommended it to others to try. Now, I have heard this about other people, including famed Chicago Cubs sportscaster, Jack Brickhouse, who liked to frequent S&M clubs asking people there if they would ''drop the kids off'' on his face. But, Danny Thomas is the only star I know of that personally like to eat the fecal matter. Very strange, I know. I don't know if Thomas and Brickhouse were friends, but, if they were, it gives new meaning to going out and getting shit-faced. This disgusting story is fact, based on Danny Thomas supposedly admitting it. ........ Milton Berle, King Schlong. Yes, many of you may be aware that Uncle Milton was the most well-endowed man in Hollywood. Even such hung stars as Frank Sinatra, Humphrey Bogart, and Jamie Lee Curtis, stood in awe of his massive organ. And, Milton was never shy in bringing the fella out for some air. One account had it looking like an some anaconda. It always amused his comedian friends. One time, a bunch of comedians were in a locker room. Milton was there, along with Forrest Tucker, from ''F Troop'' fame, also known as a Hollywood big man. A contest developed of which star was bigger. Serious money was thrown around as various people took sides. Forrest pulled his out, but, Milton, on this one occasion, was a tad shy. Finally, Jackie Gleason, who had money on Berle, delivered a classic line. '' Come on, Milton. Just take out enough so we can win!''. Milton did and was the winner. Milton Berle died in 2002. His dick died three years later....... Mrs. David Geffen. David Geffen is a very powerful man in Hollywood, arguably, the most powerful. His success in records and films has his fortune estimated in the billions. He also has a reputation as a ruthless, mean-spirited pariah whom you do not cross without retribution. He is a dirty fighter, with supporters and enemies a mile long. In short, he is perfect for the Hollywood community. David is also openly gay. So, stories about him and other men are not the least bit shocking. Except, for one story. Around 1995, a story went around that David Geffen married a man. The man? Keanu Reeves. Yes, the good looking, but, very untalented actor of many movies. The story became fodder for late-night talk show hosts and comedians around the world. Both denied the story, but, like all good sexual stories about the stars, this one would not die. Even today, the embers of the story still are flickering. This story, however, should be discounted. Keanu Reeves is a lightweight actor, but, he has gone out of his way to avoid the spotlight and try to live a normal, private life. Yes, there are rumors about his sexuality, but, there are also stories about his nailing hot women. The story was amusing, but, like Keanu's acting, it doesn't have much substance.......... Let me state again that these stories are rumors. So, take them with a grain of salt. Perhaps, some are true, like the Milton Berle story, and, some are vicious lies designed to hurt reputations. Either way, it gave me something to write about on a slow day. There are more such stories in Hollywood. In future blogs I will revisit the human desire to gossip about the stars...... Now, it is time for me to meet someone for lunch. Thank God I am not meeting Danny Thomas........

Babe And Quentin

When they came to America from Italy in the early part of the 20th Century, Tomaso and Martina Ciarlo already had a hefty brood of kids. Five children, which for Italian families was somewhat a normal number. They had three boys and two girls. The middle child, Corrado, called ''Babe'' by everyone who knew him, was the beloved one in the family. Usually, middle children are sometimes lost in the shuffle in the family pecking order. But, not Babe. He was adored from the older siblings to the younger ones. He had a special bond with his mother, Martina. He was the apple of her eye, and, since she was the soul of the family, he became the anointed one. Tragedy would strike the family in 1937, as the father, Tomaso, would die. This left Martina to run the family business, which was a small grocery store in Waterbury, Connecticut. By 1941, when America entered World War Two, the family was still reeling from the father's passing. Babe became the center of all family love. And, he deserved it. At 17, he emerged as a handsome, boisterous, energetic young man. He was beloved in the neighborhood because he was sweet-hearted and considerate. Babe was born with the ability to have everyone like him. He didn't force it, it just came naturally. He didn't know what he wanted to do with his life, as many young man experience. He knew he wanted to serve his country, though, fighting those damn Nazis, and, especially, that tyrant Mussolini, who polluted Italy and brought great shame to proud men and women of his heritage. Babe pictured himself fighting the good fight, slaying the villians, and, then returning to Waterbury, the conquering hero, being swarmed by the lovely ladies!!! Finally, in the spring of 1943, he was drafted in the army. It must be said that Babe wanted to enlist a year earlier in the navy, but, Martina, fearing for his life aboard a ship sinking, talked him out of it. However, by 1943, most of the men in the neighborhood were being drafted, whether they wanted to fight or not. Babe's older brother was exempted because he was the oldest surviving male in the fatherless family. But, Babe did not care. His family loved America and wanted to fight for its freedom and survival. And, maybe, just maybe, he would be sent to Italy to go after Mussolini. At first, Babe was assigned as a corporal in North Africa, but, soon, he got his wish and saw the Italian peninsula on the assault landing on Sicily in July, 1943. The assault was successful, quickly capturing Palermo and Messina, basically stopping Mussolini in his tracks. Two months later, his division landed at Salerno, where they encountered fierce resistance. For the next year, Allied troops would encounter savage fighting as they struggled towards Rome. The losses of men can never be fully accounted for in war, but, the raw numbers show heavy casualities on both sides. The ugliness of war was forever stained on these men--- boys still, really---- that was both physical and emotional. Babe got a harsh lesson on the cruelness of life in his first year in combat. He saw his friends die, with their body parts exploding around him, and, his face being saturated with their blood. Babe saw how civilians, innocent victims in the power play of war, were left homeless and starving as the bombs and tanks destroyed all of life around them. He saw the brave soldiers die and the cowards slip away unscathed. Babe saw the innocence and joy that he experienced in that now far away place of Waterbury burn away into people killing other people. Babe still kept his innate goodness of the soul intact, but, there was a hardness to him now, a weariness of war around his eyes. But, being the dutiful son that he was [ and, not wanting to worry his family] he painted combat in somewhat of a rosy picture in his letters home. He wrote about the beautiful weather in Italy, the fattening foods he was eating--- pasta and lasagna--- and how he was sending money home for his family so they could enjoy a fine Easter. The family, blissfully unaware that he was padding the truth, wrote back cheery letters of their own. Martina said that when Babe reached Rome he should look up family members. Babe replied that he was thinking along the same lines. It would be wonderful to meet his long-lost relatives. His letters varied from topics like eating too much to swimming in the Tyrennian Sea because the salt water would do him good. He even found optimism in the continous rain that always plagues a soldier in combat. It ''cooled us off''. Babe's letters also focused on his family at home, and, especially, his late father. He very much wanted to be home because he wanted to plant a flower on his father's grave. Such thoughts of family--- and, loss--- are so common in soldiers fighting so far from the comforts of home. Babe was lucky. Even though death was all around him, he was spared injury. He lost his friends and saw the hell, but, he was ok. Maybe, it was because of the prayer book given to him before he left home. He prayed to God that he would survive the war and go home to his loved ones. In Waterbury, similar prayers were being said by his family and friends for his safe return home..... Babe's letters stopped coming in June 1944. Then, on June 26, 1944, the family learned why. Babe had been killed in action on May27, near Rome, near his mother's relatives. How has never been established. He was a victim of war like countless millions who fight combat. Babe was eight days shy of his 21st birthday. Olga Ciarlo, Babe's younger sister, recalls returning home from a date one night when she heard her mother wailing her grief. Martina Ciarlo refused to believe the news that he was dead. For months on end, she would look for Babe in newspapers and magazines, always certain a mistake had been made. She could not believe how her son--- that bright, lovable, sweet young man--- could be gone. It wasn't until many months later that his body was finally brought home to rest. And, then, Martina believed. Babe was buried next to his father at the family graveside. Martina would never get over the pain of losing her son. She would live on another twenty years, but, she was only doing so because her body had not given up the battle to live. She was heartbroken. The Ciarlo family went on with their lives, having children and enjoying the days they were given. But, somewhere in their souls, they always carried Babe around with them..... Luverne, Minnesota is not the most exciting place on earth. And, in the early1940's, it had to be incredibly tedious. So, when young Quentin Aanenson, who always dreamed of being a pilot and seeing new sights, saw his opportunity to join the Army Air Corps at the start of the war, he jumped at the chance. Quentin was soft-spoken, carefully phrasing his words. He enlisted in 1942, but, was not called up for service until 1943. After several months of flight training at various locations, Quentin was commissioned a second lieutenant in January of 1944. Along the way at his many stops, this dashing, romantic pilot met a beautiful, vivacious woman named Jackie. She would become the girl he left behind at home that he would marry upon returning from combat. Quentin was assigned his post in London. His job was to fly a load of bombs everyday to drop on German forces. With this most dangerous job, he was also a fighter pilot, for all pilots who are sent on bombing missions also fight off the enemy from below and above. Quentin showed fine sky and exceptional bravery under deadly conditions. And, as with all soldiers, he became aware of how fragile and fleeting life was all around him. He saw the bombers blown out of the air. He heard the howls of pain as men begged God to put them out of their misery. Quentin finally made it a practice to stop making friends at the homebase in London. He knew, as they all did, that the shelf life of any pilot is very short. Either they die inside of fifty missions, or, they lose their mind because of battle fatigue. Quentin escaped this. He survived in body, but, his mind was another matter. He was a changed man. No longer could he look at the world as he did as a bright-eyed youngster from Luverne. That boy was long gone. Now, what was left was a man who did his duty, but, kept his emotions and pain on what he saw and did to himself. He would eventually compose a letter to his new bride, Jackie. It was a form of therapy for him. He would never mail the letter to her, but, he kept it for himself. The letter describes better than any other what men and women see in battle..... '' Dear Jackie. For the past two hours I've been sitting here alone in my tent, trying to figure out what I should do and what I should say in response to your letters and some questions you have asked. I have purposely not told you how much about my world over here, because I thought it might upset you. Perhaps this has been a mistake, so let me correct that right now. I still doubt if you will be able to comprehend it. I don't think anyone can who has not been through it. I live in a world of death. I have watched my friends die in a variety of ways. Sometimes its just an engine failure of takeoff resulting in a violent explosion. There's not enough left to bury. Other times, it's the deadly flak that tears into a plane. If the pilot is lucky, the flak kills him. But usually he isn't and he burns to death as his plane spins in. Fire is the worst. In early September one of my good friends crashed on the edge of our field. As he was pulled away from the burning plane, the skin came off  his arms. His face was almost burned away. He was still conscious and trying to walk. You can't imagine the horror. So far, I have done my duty in this war. I have never aborted a mission or failed to dive on a target no matter how intense the flak. I have lived my dreams for the future. But, like everything else around me my dreams are dying, too. In spite of everything I may live through this war and return to Baton Rouge. But I am not the same person you said goodbye to on May 3. No one can go through this and not change. We are all casualties. In the meantime, we just go on. Some way, somehow, this will all have an ending. Whatever it is, I am ready for it. Quentin''..... Quentin Aanenson did survive the war and came home to marry Jackie. They would have children and grandchildren. However, as with many veterans, he did not want to talk about the war and what he had seen. It stayed hidden in him for many years. Later in life he felt comfortable enough to talk about his experiences in documentaries of the war. But, he had to go through many years of silent pain to reach this comfort. He would die from cancer on December 28, 2008..... Both the stories of Babe Ciarlo and Quentin Aanenson come from the 2006 documentary by Ken Burns called ''The War''. Their stories--- and, many others from those in uniform and those on the homefront-- are spellbinding. I try to find some time every year to watch this. It is in several parts, but, as in all good stories, the time flies by because you are willingly pulled into the power of the people sharing their experiences. It doesn't pull any punches about the horror of war. It is right in your face and knocks you down. That is how it should be. Some wars need to be fought, like the Second World War and the Civil War. Some are drummed up for political, religious, and, mostly, economical reasons. What should be remembered is that wars are not fought by glamorous movie stars like John Wayne [ who, by the way, managed to avoid serving in World War Two, unlike his acting pals who did serve ]. Those movies celebrate the killing of the villian and the hero coming home to win the girl's heart and live happily ever after. No, wars are fought by men like Babe Ciarlo and Quentin Aanenson. Average people who are forever changed by the madness of humans killing other humans. These stories are the face of war..... I hope to never see another war during my lifetime. If I do, I hope we ask the questions that need to be asked and probe why we send our men--- and, women--- off to die. Is it a noble reason or to satisfy some government with the need for more power, which always is at the expense of human blood. There is an old saying that failure to learn from past mistakes means you are doomed to repeat them again. Sometimes, our very survival is at risk and we must come out fighting. But, we also should never be careless when talking about human lives. Hopefully, we have learned this. If not, then we will have more stories like Babe Ciarlo and Quentin Aanenson......

Random Thoughts: March 2013

Pope Benedict is now history. He has a new title, ''Pope Emeritus.'' The Vatican hands out titles like paper towels. He leaves a legacy of almost no importance. Except one. He did oversee an institution--- the Catholic Church--- that continues to be a most corrupt institution. And, we know the stories of corruption. Starting with the most serious and horrible--- the ongoing cover-ups of children being molested by priests. We have heard these tales of abuse for far too long. Not all priests molest, of course. The higher ups cannot be blamed for the individual behavior of a deviant. That applies to all of society. However, as we have seen, the Church has no reservations of burying the scandal to protect its all- important image of looking out for God's children. Millions of dollars of hush money, let alone the costs of high-priced lawyers, have been standard procedure for this most evil of institutions. I'm not talking about the Catholic faith or beliefs, but, the business that controls that faith. They are as corrupt as any of the Penn State bastards who looked the other way for years while Sandusky was conducting his vile deeds. The head of the Catholic Church, Pope Benedict, is as guilty of lying and covering up child abuse as the head of Penn State. He did not know the individual priests who did the foul acts, but, he knew after the fact. And, in typical Catholic Church dogma tried to ignore or buy off the victims. Meanwhile, the standard operating procedure of scamming its faithful--- begging for money--- was in full stride. The next time you are in the holy house of a church, and, the priest is telling you about church repairs and shortages that will affect many churches, just remember that the Catholic Church is the largest real estate profit organization in the world, with holdings that are in the hundreds of billions. That the Vatican has always worked with the Mafia hand and hand is common knowledge. This goes back many centuries [ The Borgias, folks!] with many Popes married with several families.Stories of bloodletting, blackmail, and murder [ see the Roberto Calvi story, and, his fleecing of millions of dollars through the Vatican bank]. All of these betrayals of people's faith, not to mention using God's name for personal greed, were presided over by a Pope. So, as Pope Benedict goes away to do whatever--- and, there are rumors of scandal that he knew about that promise to bubble to the surface--- just remember that he is no different than any scumbag politician, lawyer, hired killer, child molester. Why? Because he was in charge of an instituion that sanctioned it. I hope that whomever the next Pope is will, finally, clean house and try to run an honest organization that focuses on the teachings of God and not how to slide abuse cases under the rug while making dirty money. There was one Pope in modern history that tried to do this: Pope John  Paul, The First, in 1978. He came into the job determined to whipe out the stain of financial and physical abuses by the Church. Perhaps, you remember him. He was only in for a little over a month before he died in his sleep. There are many versions of what happened to him. Officially, the Church says he died of natural causes. But, many believe he was poisoned on purpose for wanting to sweep out the scum that were in the Church. He was succeeded by Pope John Paul, The Second. His rein continued business as usual...... Seth McFarlane hosted the recent Oscars and is being plummeted in the press for doing a lousy job. I am not a fan of his-- and, his 3rd grade humor--- but, I thought he did ok. It is a tough job being the host of the Oscars. Many talented people have fallen on their faces trying to host this runaway train of a show. Bob Hope and Johnny Carson remain the template of a successful host. Billy Crystal has had his moments, but, contrary to public memory, he has also bombed as host a few times. Truth be told, they really do not need a host past the opening monologue. There, the host is all-important to set the tone. As the evening drags on, and we get impatient waiting for the big awards so we can call it a night, the host almost seems like an added intrusion, elongating the show. The fact that McFarlane told some jokes that met with resistance from the audience is not his fault. Like David Letterman years ago, McFarlane was hired to comment on the show in progress, but, instead, he made fun of the whole gaudy idea of an awards show. And, like Letterman, he met with much hostility from his targets. This is not McFarlane's fault, nor was it Letterman's. It is the fault of the producers, who by hiring McFarlane, knew exactly what they were getting--- a smart-ass. Hollywood likes to think it can take a punch, but, it cannot. Not all of what McFarlane did was good. He certainly bombed on many jokes. Still, he did the job they hired him to do and he should not be condemned for it. I will save that condemnation for Harvey Weinstein, the ultra- powerful head of Miramax, who insited that Michelle Obama present the Best Picture award via satellite. It was contrived and added a mix of politics that is never necessary to any awards show. And, you had Jack Nicholson, the most beloved and admired actor of the last 50 years, who has been absent from the telecast for many years, being asked to share the spotlight with a First Lady, out of her depth, as usual. In terms of pure entertainment, Nicholson should have given the award himself. But, Hollywood, liberal Hollywood, who likes to suck off Washington politics, went with Mrs. Obama. Maybe, next year, Jack can share the stage with The Artist Formally Known As Pope Benedict....... Don't worry, it is never ''too soon'' to tell a joke about a recently departed public person . Humor is the most effective way to laugh at death, who, as we know, gets the final laugh on all of us. Just make sure that your audience can appreciate it. They will understand that you are not being cruel to the dead person, but, are just adding a little spice of shocking humor to the moment. If someone is very offended, then apologize, call them out on bringing the subject up to you in the first  place knowing full well you are gonna say something meanly humourous, and, make a mental note to yourself to never see this person socially. I seem to be the first person people contact when someone kicks the bucket. Many family and friends want to hear my wicked words of wisdom about a fallen human being. And, I will pipe up with some comment. But, as I have gotten older and realize that certain things that were funny as a young man are no longer funny I pick and choose my targets. Most of the time I go after worthy villains, like a celebrity murderer or someone who is Pope, that deserves the cheap shot. I made a slew of jokes about Lance Armstrong because he deserves all my venom for his prick-like way of hurting people. That is a worthy target. Someone who is suffering from a cruel disease or mental retardation should never be a subject of humor. That perosn who makes those jokes usually will get a tongue-lashing from me. But, a little salty or black humor directed at a horrible person-- whether alive or dead--- should never be judged as ''too soon''. And, one last thing. If I do not like or respect a person when they are alive, then I will not suddenly change my mind because they died. If I hate you in life I will hate you in death........ Looking back at what I have have written I see that I have a bit of chip on my shoulder today. I do not mean to write a blog that is steering towards the negative. It is just that a few things about the world have been bothering me, and, I have designated this place as my release, my therapy, if you will. I hear back from many people who take time out of their busy lives to read these thoughts of mine. I do not express nearly enough on how much this means to me. I need to thank people more for visiting my spot here, but, I shamefully, do not show my deep caring that people are doing this. Thank you all!!!! I love all of you!!!! Lets all go out for a drink and cheeseballs!!!!!!