NoSir. Not me.

Reasons I do not like president’s day.
I do not and will not celebrate president’s day of the few dorky presidents from our American past. Not celebrating presidents known to be blathering jerks. Herbert Hoover was one. A lame conservative who had a hydro-electric dam named after him. Richard Nixon a certified and registered crook. Too stupid to realize he was recording his own private and secret conversations. Then the hotel guy. Mr. Crazy hair. @realDonaldTrump. He’s just a wad of gook from a boy cow’s rear.
But what I will celebrate is Abe Lincoln and Geo Washington birthdays. Mainly because we kids use to get these guys birthdays off from school as holidays in the month of February. Feb 12 and Feb 22. Yes. Two big holidays often in the middle of the week. None of that third Monday of the month crap. Only Best Buy and Mattress Firm celebrate President’s Day with “Giant President’s Day sales.” Disgusting.

Drop those gloves! Now!

Sheba, my phantom spouse, is a card carrying officer of the local Fashion Police. She came up behind me and shouted ‘FREEZe!’ “Put those gloves down, NOW!” She brought to my attention I was putting on brown gloves. So, I replied. She sternly instructed, brown gloves do not go with a black overcoat. But I am going out in to sub-freezing weather and these are my warmest gloves I retorted. “It doesn’t matter she sharply instructed. But all we are doing, I interjected, is driving through Braums to get our emergency Hot Fudge Sundaes. Have mercy officer I pleaded.

I like Nuts and Chews

Yes, I’d like that.
If you really want to be my Valentine a one pound box of See’s candy would prove your fascination for me. Otherwise don’t bother. Yes a rectangular one pound box of Nuts and Chews to be specific. But if you have only a one pound box of See’s soft centers, that would be okay. For the moment. Until you can acquire a box of Nuts and Chews. A good substitute might be a one pound box of See’s Victorian Toffee. However, if you are pinched and have little cash, a box of See’s suckers might be satisfactory. FedEx is a good bet to get it here. Don’t show up in person. I prefer to enjoy it by myself.

Pay to eat food?

To go where no one had gone before.
Peggy, my oldest sister was our cuisine and eating out scout. Once she was in junior high and high school and earning her own money, she discovered foods we “Red Dirt Okies never heard of. Spaghetti, sub sandwiches, chicken fried rice, burgers and fries, and most of all pizza. Prior to her discoveries all we Okies knew of was fried chicken and mashed potatoes. A food tradition brought from the old country of Oklahoma to our new digs in California.
But after her insistence to sample pizza, we caved in and went to the only pizzeria in the territory. It was 1956 and about five miles from our little home in L A we visited a place called DeLuca’s. It was just one large dining room with long tables and plain chairs and certainly filled with people eating the rectangular pizza pie served on a mettle baking sheet. Absolutely not like the pizza we eat today. It was a flat bread crust with a red sauce and mounds of various cheeses and sprinkled with onion, tomato, and mushrooms. I must admit, it was very good. No thick bready crust or extreme meats like Pizza Hut or Papa John’s when they had showed up later.
But as we revisited the place several times since that first day, success began to manifest itself quickly with the pizza pie business in the main parlor. Red velvet and gold flocking adorned the walls. Large Oil paintings of the owners and their children hung in ornate frames around the walls. Portraits with solemn smug faces projecting a “Godfather” look. Soon, came a very large expensive looking dangling crystal chandelier hung from the center ceiling. They obviously were doing okay with the pizza business. But wait, out back parked under a car port looking overhang was a new Rolls-Royce. Not bad for a Ma-Pa pizza eatery. Thanks Peg for the recommendation. Never mind this could have been a front for something else. Tony Soprano would have loved this place.

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Showing on the big screen

Showing at the Drive-in.
Early last spring Sheba, my secret wife, flew with our 13-year old granddaughter to California for a spring break. This was early pandemic and visiting various places in California was either limited or closed. But one place that was available and a place she had never visited was the local drive-in theater near San Luis Obispo. She had never been to a drive-in movie. Granddaughter loved it. Just find a parking spot, stay in the car, tune-in to a designated FM station, and waalaa, movies in a car. How cool was that? Between the thrill of the drive-in movie and driving her uncle’s front-end loader tractor over his acreage near San Luis Granddaughter had a total blast during spring break. Never mind missing going to Disneyland and visiting Hollywood.
A few years back when Sheba and I lived in Hawaii, just down the hill from where we lived was a drive-in movie. A screen with Perl Harbor just sitting behind. You could see the Arizona Memorial from that drive-in. One of the movie’s we did see at that drive-in was Tora! Tora! Tora! A flick written and produced in Japan depicting the bombing of Perl Harbor. Oh so spooky.
Now the local drive-in in Tulsa called the Admiral Twin has never been so busy. Live concerts, religious services, and exclusive concert showings on the screens have paid the bills at the Admiral Twin. An exclusive on screen Garth Brooks concert was very big. Coming soon is select movies from the Sundance film festival. . By the way the Admiral Twin is two screens just off Admiral Boulevard in Tulsa. A motion picture viewing icon in Tulsa for many decades going back to the 1950s. Let’s all sing ‘Wake up little Susie.’

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So much fun for a buck

Saturday Matinee.
My friend’s dad would give Jim a dollar for the two of us to go to the show. So Jim and I would walk three blocks to the GarMar Theater on Concourse and Whittier Boulevard. It was called the GarMar because the owner operator’s kids were Gary and Mary. Get it?
This was the mid-1950s. But anyway, one dollar would get Jim and me general admission, a small bag of popcorn each, and either a box of Ju-Ju Bees or Milk Duds. Both candies were slow chewing. Hard and gooey. Might last through the first feature film. The theater was a large round top hanger barn-like building. Sort of military looking. And on Saturdays at noon it held about 300-screaming pre-teen kids.
So what we got for a quarter’s admission was two Looney Toon cartoons, a weekly world and national newsreel, two or three serial adventures of Gene Autry, Tarzan, or maybe Flash Gordon. Then a Disney nature and small animal flick. And finally a feature movie or feature length cartoon. All lasting about three or four hours. We were happy and Jim’s dad was happy.
What we saw on the big screen: Disney’s Lady and the Tramp; okay but too cute and tame. Tammy and the Bachelor and Tammy’s in Love; I was in love with Tammy but discovered later it was really a ‘Chick Flick.’ Another Disney; Flubber. Fred McMurray at his best. Elvis in Jailhouse Rock; I played along with the girls and screamed just to help out. A couple of WWII movies; Thirty Seconds over Tokyo and the Cain Mutiny. There were a number of other movies and feature length cartoons but I don’t remember the movie titles. However, my most favorite movie and again a Disney production, “Twenty-thousand leagues under the sea.” Captain Nemo and his saw tooth submarine. I was energized after the movie and would have taken on any monster sized squid. Bring’em on!
But after much thought, I wouldn’t trade this preteen boy experience for anything. A gazillion laughing and screaming kids, great movies, and an intermission give away drawing, and a chance to escape parental constraints. We all were just crazy kids needing a little screaming screen time.

I read this.

Book Report.

I really liked this book but it was recommended for grades three to six. A middle or high schooler would find it informative and entertaining as well. It is historical fiction and is titled “Letters from Cuba” by Ruth Baher, published 2020.
It is a series of letters written by older sister Esther to her younger sister still living in Poland with their mother and brothers. Esther has left Poland in 1938 attempting to join her father in Cuba. Both had left Poland to escape persecution from Hitler’s army. Esther’s family is Jewish and Esther and her father are in Cuba to earn enough money to bring the remaining members of their family to the southern Island nation.
A side benefit to this book while Yiddish speaking Esther is learning Spanish is many Spanish and English words and phrases are used interchangeably. A beginning Spanish learner would benefit from this book. I would strongly suggest finding this book in the audio version. Possibly at your local library. The audio book actor/reader does an expert job. However the print version reads well. My thirteen-year old granddaughter really liked this book.

What a snake

He is worse than a two headed rattle snake.
The election I would question and suggest there was election fraud is Trump’s election over Hillary Clinton. Had Hillary won there would not have been children taken away from their parents at our southern border. We would not have become isolationist as Trump wanted. Cutting off immigration from the Middle East and elsewhere. Health care would be affordable for millions if it weren’t for Trump’s hatred for Obamacare. But instead we have climate change advancing. Racial inequality. Evangelicals who have lost their way. And a Pandemic that is out of control. Not to mention Trump’s assault on our constitutional election process and encouraging others to attack our nation’s capitol. But that entire aside, we now know what the GOP is all about. Trump was just the bully troll at the gate. I give my permission for Hillary to kick Trump in the groin.

When it looks empty.

When the Peter Pan jar seems empty.
Something I’ve been doing since I was ten.  Scraping the buttery dregs of the peanut butter jar with a table knife and licking the sparse remains off the knife.  Laying claim to an empty jar of peanut butter, grabbing me a table knife, and with the hope of bringing conclusion to a once full jar.  A final process seemingly transformational.  Just the jar and me.  It’s done.  Over.  I have followed through from the first to the very empty end.  The whole process is meditational and helps me focus on life’s burdensome worries.  Something like peanut butter jar yoga.  Finally, it’s done.  Over with.  Scraped until the plastic almost comes off the interior walls of the jar.  You could place the empty jar in a paper sack, drag me out on the back lawn, and a glassy-eyed semi-unconscious state washes over me.  Completely oblivious of the surrounding environment.  Stoned on the Peter Pan jar remains.

Bring the money back where it belongs.

It’s our money.
I have no problem taxing the rich and large corporations. The money they gained came from you and me. They encouraged us to invest in risky investments and often we lost. They charged us high interest on payday and short term loans. Shareholders got dividends on our saving accounts and nnot us. So pay the stockholder instead of the account holders. Insurance companies charged policy holders high premiums with little benefit. Instead of receiving a reasonable amount of interest on our bank accounts, we were charged bank fees to them to use our own money.
Again, the one percent didn’t find this money under a rock. It came from our own wallets. It’s our money. We need to reclaim our hard earned money.