- Fall 2017 -

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Another Fein Mess
AF Stone’s Seasonal
Summer/Fall 2017

Bites of life

10 p.m. went with friend Skip to the Coffee Bean up on Sunset.

Outside was the somewhat-reduced (once Cadillac, now a Rambler) bannered car/home of perennial movie-star hopeful Dennis Woodruff.

Inside we sat with the celebrated striver, and he spoke of jobs he missed and a few he got.

5-7 Lunch at the ranch of King Cotton and Ginger. Also there, Rob Clampett, son of the Beany & Cecil creator Bob Clampett. It was a western idyll in the rural hills of the San Fernando Valley.

5-8 Wanted a 2010-era Macbook with a CD burner. Went to Burbank at 2 pm to meet an insane kid (dealer) who brought one with dying battery and erratic functionality. He said he would put in a new hard-drive and take $10 off the $450 price. I ran.

* At 6 pm met a guy at a comic book store on Sunset, selling a 2008 iMac for $200. He sat at a table, his dog beneath it.

As I swung a leg over, the dog sprang at me tearing my shirt-tail with his teeth; I reared back, and the re-charging dog’s teeth raked my left forearm.

Is this any way to do business?
Did I mention it was a pit bull?

In fact the forearm scrape was a grotesque superficial wound. I, numb normally from the neck up, got first-aid for the bleeding forearm and continued with the Mac seller.

Ultimately, daughter Jessie came to check on me, then left.

He knocked $150 off the price.
I am SO non-confrontational.

5-9 Cautionary visit to Urgent Care in Hollywood.

“Flesh wound” the doctor said and cleaned it up and bandaged me.

Interesting side-bite: I bought several first-aid items for $35 at CVS Drugs.

Later I found that four were available at the 99 Cent Store. But who economizes in an emergency?

* Went to Joe’s American Bar & Grill in Burbank to see Rip Masters' show.

What a scene! “Swing-dancers” of all ages on a Tuesday night.

Life is wonderful.

5-9 The Paladins’ Thom Yearsley and sweetie Laura
Jane, up from Oceanside, visited the old guys (us)
at Uncle Bernie’s and gave us the band’s new CD
and LP, which is/are wonderful.

Thom operates a recording studio there.

5-14 Fans and wellwishers gather to greet Harold Bronson at Arcana Books in Culver City.

Bronson signed copies of his new book, “My British Invasion.”


Mark Helfrich, Gary Stewart, Wallace
Langham, Melissa Langham, Harold, Bill Wilner

Domenic Priore with singers Any Celsi and Tish Hinahosa

* Then at 5, the Hollywood Blues Destroyers at the Redwood.

5-16 Lunch with friend Davin Seay.

5-17 Lunch with Rip Masters, bringing his new CD.


* Bought new Michelin tires at Costco.

5-22 Went to Palomino - I mean Viva Cantina, to see Keith Morris hailed for his bday.

The back room was packed for the lineup (not a police-lineup - musicians) accompanying his reading.



* However, I flashed back to a problem from the ‘60s.

This small room held sixty seated people, and sit
most did.

When the show started, a dozen people walked onto
the dance floor and blocked sightlines for half the room.

And like then, it was gauche to complain.


5-24 Birthday gathering for friend Davin Seay at a
restaurant in Burbank. Everybody’s getting old.

(I wrote “odd.” That too.)

Didn’t see fr Mark Leviton, who flew in to meet
sweetheart Vicky, bec she had taken ill and he returned to Nevada City.

Early (she was born July 20) b’day dinner with
Baby Jessie at Patys in Burbank. We knew she’d be out of town for the actual date.

PHOTO image1jpg

5-31 Dinner at Musso-Frank’s with Tav Falco and twenty friends.

PHOTO 0257

6-2 The LA debut (it was shown in NY, San Francisco) of Austria resident Tav’s silent-with-sound 70-minute film “Urania Descending.”

Space was donated by the Egyptian Theater for two nights’ screening in the Spielberg Room.

6-3 Second night’s screening of Tav’s film, one-third
of the final product. Before the showing, he tangoed with the film’s star, his wife.


6-4 Atttended Beverly Glen’s annual Glen Fair, a bit sparser than past ones, with local resident Kathe Schreyer. Hoped to see George Thorogood there, but he was on tour.

* In the evening, hied over to the venerable Egyptian Theater to see “Carnival Of Souls” on the big screen. Star Candace Hilligloss was on and, signing her book.

PHOTO 0664 Actress Candace Hilligloss

Other celebrities Skip Heller, Spongebob Tom Kenny, and ME.

--- UNDER ----

PHOTO 0697 Kenny, Heller, AF.

Breakfast at Uncle Bernie’s, as usual. Afterward, commenced my“get out of town” trip to the Bay area.

I took picturesque Route 101 instead of the same-but-barren Route 5, but the 440-mile drive killed me.

Got to pal Joel Selvin’s around 8 pm and was served a fine meal. Chatted some and hit the bed hard.

6-7 Hit the road, after morning rush hour, to Nevada City, California, in the mountains 140 miles north.

At 3 pm I was greeted and treated by dear friends Mark Leviton and Victoria Stanton.

Mark and I scoured local drug stores: the bouncy,
curvy roads had battered my back. Bought a back brace.

Later joined Mark for his 10 pm two-hour dj show on KMVR and then we homed and I slept soundly.


Next day we hit thrift stores and book shops in nearby Grass Valley to my delight.

Had lunch at the Pine Street Cafe. Rain.

6-9 About to depart, applying the back-relief “belt,” Mark remembered he had a back-wedge he never uses. That standard aid never met my view in the drugstores, and Mark gave it freely, to my lasting delight.

PHOTO 4557 Farewell, Nevada City

Bid them and Nevada City goodbye and drove south
then northwest, making a stop to have lunch with ex-LA pal Sue Sawyer in Santa Rosa.

Headed to Healdsburg to the home of my host Carol,
ex-neighbor sis of old (Chicago era) girlfriend Pam.

PHOTO 4568

My back, spared further pain by Mark’s gift, still ached, and I was plenty tired. Visited shops around Healdsburg with Carol.

Went to movie, “My Cousin Rachel.” Lady’s choice.

Planned drive back to LA Sunday to miss Monday traffic, but my back disagreed.

We went to Sebastopol and found that its two used
book stores were gone, had lunch, and returned to
Healdsburg and raided the public library for DVDs.

Watched a ‘50s french crime drama but its
incomprehensibility, or our incomprehension, gave
us giggles (odd for we fans of les flics francais).

Packed for drive home, back still not “friendly.”

I’d decided to take difficult Route 1 again because
fast-track route is so barren, but in San Francisco
(the coast highway pours though the city) I changed
plans and crossed the Bay Bridge to Route 5.

I wondered for a while if my path was amiss, but
ascending the hill at Altamont (yes) knew I was
"on the right road now," like Gary Lewis.

The back pain evaporated and I drove four-plus
hours at 80 mph (posted 70 mph limit is just a
suggestion) and got to LA feeling great.

6-15 With Jim Dawson at Gelsons.
(So what else is new?)

6-17 Birthday lunch with friends Kathe & David,
high atop Beverly Glen.

6-18 Father’s Day call from baby Jessie --
in Rome!

Who knew?

* Ronnie Mack tribute at Viva.

Someone posited it as a benefit (Ronnie’s 25-year
day job ended when his employer closed shop), but
he declined that angle gratefully.

PHOTO 4615 Ronnie

PHOTO 4586 Me, King Cotton, Jim Dawson

PHOTO 4603 Dawson. Ray Campi, at 81.

PHOTO 4596 Whole lotta LA hicks.



After 10 months in this apartment complex,
spoke to a non-adjacent neighbor. He looked like a
musician, so I asked. He was. Bassist Robby Pagliari.

Two warm bodies visited me on a sorta sick-day.
Frank Sprague and lovely Cerise graced my warren.

Both musicians moved to LA, in Frank’s case back,
to make beautiful music together. It was nice to
re-strike an acquaintance, though no blows rained.
(They married a week later.)

* After years of urging by my fr Richard Fannan,
I went to Pasadena to see Vaud & the Villains at the
Levitt Pavilion, an outdoor show, free to all, one of a
daily summer-long bandshell series funded by the
Levitts, bless their mysterious hearts.

The band is a troupe, dancing and singing in
numerous combinations. What’s not to like?

Hearing the emcee say LATimes guy Randy
Lewis was “in the house,” I phoned him and joined
his crowd for a while.

7-4 As is my annual wont, spent July 4th evening
at Scott Meyer’s hillside house facing the city.

The company was splendid and the fireworks display
mind-boggling. Explosions dotted the horizon we
watched in panorama.

Like a war zone, but a nice one.

Met Harold Bronson at National Promotions &
Advertising (NPA) on Overland, the studio and
business office of Gary Shafner.

Its entrance is the front of a Greyhound bus. Once
you’re ID’d, the front door unlocks, you walk past
luggage racks and seats, and enter a tiered and
gala variegated office complex.

Shafner wanted a photo of me in front of his art
gallery, which he named Art Fein, in reference to his word-order dyslexia, and also, I learned, to ME.

We had lunch, and a swell time. My vest buttons were popping!

IMG 4936

7-7 Got in a tube and had my head examined:
an MRI. I'd had another recently. Later learned my brain is shrinking.

Headed then to Shout Factory in West LA for a
mind-meld with writer Jerry Leichtling. ("Peggy Sue Got Married.")

7-8 Took Skip Heller and friend to a gala lunch
at Denny’s, on one of the several hottest-day-we’ve-hads.

* At 7 pm I went to Kulak’s Wood Shed in North
Hollywood for a delightful hour of music with
veteran folk figure Freebo and impressive newcomer
Alice Howe, whose album Freebo is producing
at a studio in Bakersfield.

PHOTO 4636

7-9 Fools On Stools at the Redwood featuring Birdie
Jones, whose has a terrific new EP, and Scott Rankie
and Kevin Laffey.


Saw the Love-Ins, a new band, upstairs at
Los Globos on Sunset, near downtown.

They filled the room with a joyful noise, especially
impressive considering the absence of one member.

PIC 4697

7-15 Big 6 pm birthday bash for Swamp Dogg (75)
in Silver Lake.

His daughter Doctor Jeri Williams rented the hall
and invited friends and family.

PIC 4774

The hour-long performance included a sit-in with
Swamp-friend Wayne Kramer.

Pic 4765

Also celebratin' and cerebratin' - Miss Mercy, Miss Pamela, and Dave Alvin.

7-16 Dropped in to Jonny Whiteside’s bonanza at Viva Cantina, this/that and a tribute to Little Richard’s former partner XXXX

PHOTO 4596

PHOTO XXX Little Richard’s original drummer Charles Connors sat in with XXXXXXXXXXXX MISSING MISSING MISSING

7-25 Rip Masters always tearin’ it up at Joe’s !


Shanghai’d by lovin’ Laura Jane & Thom of
Oceanside, I camped for three days at their spacious recording studio compound.

Wonderful weather.
Wonderful friends.

8-4 Dinner and a cruise with the coosome twosome


8-5 Still “Down South,’ seeing the Paladins (two flew in from afar) at the Casbah.

An uplifting experience, capped by onstage praise
(for me!) by Paladian compadre Dave Gonzales.

Cesar Rosa's daughter XXX sits with me flanked by Paladins Dave and Thom.



8-6 Caught Laura Jane and the Tighten Ups at the Kraken, right before driving back to Hollywood.

SHE is a sweetheart, and a force o’ nature!

PHOTO 4865

8-9 Dizzy spells. Next day too. Five one day, three next.

8-11 Never pass up a chance to see Tom Kenny, this time at Viva Cantina.



Skip Heller with XXXX at the riverside Bicycle Cafe, in Frogtown.

PHOTO 4870

Head-butting with NY friend Paul Hampton at Jerry’s Deli.

8-16 Elvis show at Joe’s? (Good time, though Elvis's death day is NOT the one I celebrate!)


King Cotton welcomes another shy performer to the stage.

Tom Kenny - like Santa Claus, he’s everywhere! - at Farmers Market.

Hour and a half ! The spunk of someone twice his age.


At Johnny Whiteside’s to-do at Viva Cantina



8-23 Gold Star name-man Dave Gold held court at
Winnetka Bowl, seeing his music-history teacher’s
(Dave is a student) band with many friends.



8-25 Seeing the Gypsy Kings with cousin Travis
at the Hollywood Bowl. We walked there from Chez
Me. They were OK. I preferred my companion.

Joined my happy cousins once removed (they
live way west in the Valley) for a family to-do in

Then went to Bob Merlis’s annual Viva Bessman “do”
in the former’s back yard. Tons of well-wishers.

8-30 Breakfast with former Fieger-sis Beth
Falkenstein and weird hubby Jim at the Good Neighbor, visiting from their digs in Ashland, Oregon.


9-6 Met dear friends Kathe and David at Gelson’s on
Van Nuys Blvd, and they whisked me away to David’s
son Maxx’s birthday dinner at King’s Fish House in
Calabassas. I have a few great friends.

9-7 “Man from the past” John Means reappeared
this century to fete me to dinner and enjoy the music
of my friend Billy Vera at the Catalina on Sunset.


9-9 Head-butt with old SF friend Lee Vigil at Farmers
Market. Now she lives in Florida, and “sales” the seas
as a jewelry merchant.

9-10 Hollywood Blues Destroyers (1) at the
Redwood. A grand swan song, of sorts.


Like every Tuesday at 9 am, breakfast with
Dave Gold and others.

When ‘dining’ ends, Dave and I sit outside and
jaw for a while. We should whittle.

He’s cornucopic. This day he talked about LA
(SF Valley) in the early '60s.

His kid’s class did a "light" American-history
play (a la Freberg) at their Victory Boulevard
school, and their historic license drew pickets
from the John Birch Society !

The music director, fellow pupil-father Julius
Wechter, was rattled by the unwanted attention.

A few more dizzy dropouts. Who needs it?

9-15 Visit with record (and feather-) merchant Ed
O’del at the storage area where I keep my money
(in the office's cash drawer). Passin’ a good time.

The new Heller-cats, Carnival of Soul,
debuting some new footing and tooting at Viva


Thrush Birdie, who sings purdy, has just released
a dynamo 5-cut sampler of her songs.


It’s a knockout, like her.

Mike Vernon, Ray Campi, Big Jay McNeely.
concertized at Viva Cantina. I feel like a king, or
maybe a serf, in the company of these giants.


Competitive-speaking grapple with distant
(Santa Monica) cousin David at Barneys
Beanery. We hatched many plans - but where was
the tape machine? I don’t remember a thing.

(David did “Foley” in his film editing days. An
unrelated David Fein also worked in that field!)

Brunch with Domenic Priore at the Good
Neighbor. A good time was passed!

Gruesome poker with Charles and friends
in Burbank. Whereas I usually break even, my jar
of quarters decreased 90% in this rare wish- I'd-
stayed-home game. (Usually I lose, then roar
back. I ought t’ve stayed longer!)

9-25 More good (lunch) times with Kathe &
David in Van Nuys at the BBB on Ventura Blvd.

One of many to-dos (not all noted, my pen
has only so much ink) at Gelson’s with Skip and
Jim “Bright Eyes” Dawson. (He had eye surgery
and now eschews glasses !!!)

PHOTO 4903

9-30 Revisited my Apple tech guy Spike at his
place on “The Avenues.”

Fixed up a bunch of my Apples purdy !


Bombs away, like anchors away, is from anchors
aweigh, removing their weight from the sea floor …

July 16 I saw a word used correctly. Pagan Kennedy,
in the NY Times Sunday Review, cites Bolivian
jungle hunters’ testosterone’s “spike” after a kill.
A spike is a rise on a graph that shoots up, and as
quickly drops, leaving dual lines resembling an
upturned spike. Today it is used errantly for a
sharp sustained rise.

Speaking of testosterone, isn’t it indelicate to?
Body fluids were not polite newspaper fodder last
century. Who’s flaunting them? Women writers.
June 25, NYT’s Theresa Huston flouts convention
and decency calling men ‘hormonal,’ bandying
‘testosterone’ like it’s dinner-table talk. While
’hormonal’ is (too) often applied to women, hence
Huston’s hokey he-jab, gibes at them don’t
ordinarily dip to indelicacies like their writing’s
“flow”or peg them as “bleeding liberals” — by
unspoken agreement. Perhaps the gloves are off.

Is it time now to shitcan “iconic”? A heavy fine for
a start … I don’t remember whose review cited an
actor’s “emotional incontinence,” but I like it.

A TV weatherman referred to “forecasted” highs,
but that don’t sound right, do it? Old clothes are
not “casted-offs” ...

“Fixate” is OK if you accept, oh, constructionate,
interpretationing. Writers (not thinkers)
extentionize (joke - see?) extend to fill space

Take ‘referencing.’ please.
(Keep “referring to” alive!) …

The warm personal word “who” has disappeared from media by frightened writers. “People THAT saw it,” “the man THAT got away.” Try and find the proper word ‘who’ today. It’s driven out of use. People fear feelings ...

* Flipside is often errant. A record’s flip-side can
be as good as the hit … It once was Skid Road.

Tobacco Row in Nashville got distorted by a book’s
title … Replicate is fancy for duplicate, but not. (I’d
rather have a duplicate of the Eiffel Tower than a
replica) … In “Dial M For Murder” the chief hands
the detective a purse as evidence, but as he leaves
he says “You can’t walk down the street with that,
you clot!” (The words-for-the-deaf changed that
colorful Britism to “clod.”) If another cop saw him,
he might be arrested as a queer …

You should not staunch bleeding. That makes it
stronger. Stanch it … Would it be wrong to call my
autobio Fein Kampf? It’s my struggle, g-d knows.

Is there still a band called Lee Press-on & The
Nails? I hope so …


Mid-July I saw something on tv news that I’d never
seen before:

After a night’s lengthy, strained rating-grab police
car-chase, there was a followup story next morning.

Incredible! Those chases are plastered on all stations
lest they fall behind other stations’ viewer-count, to
advertising numbers: Follow-thru is nil, like the
chases’ significance.

Once and for all,

* I graduated - was graduated - from journalism school. Took that major because it had no language requirement. From the first day they taught us to write facts only.

Accusations were not substantive. They were hot air till they were proven: only then they were printed.

Today anyone claims anything and the newspapers grab it if it gets attention. “Vice president murdered his mother” says a man in a mental institution.

Alleged, says , claims, accuses all are flapdoodle, nothing. And as the details of claims - should they be spicy - grow, the newspapers banner them higher.

News grubbers today look to the National Enquirer as
their beacon.

(I wrote this before the persecution of the tv producer guy who’s being pilloried - Oct 10.

All are accusations, no substantiation.

News media curry scandal.

The guy may be a creep, but the avalanche of empty accusations push out NEWS.

I wonder how newspapers in Salem, Massachusetts covered their witch accusals.


* In 1999 I bought a telephone (land-line!) (like God intended!) 5-pack for my big house. When I moved to an apartment, I strewed them everwhere so I’d never had to move more than two steps to answer.

Then people call me on the cell, which has no berth.

I don’t carry the cell phone in the apartment because it is too clear a sign of desperation.

It screams “If I’d only gotten the right call, my life wouldn’t be like this.”


LAT runs movie reviews the same day (Friday).
Two page spread, biggies atop six small splayed below.

Positive reviews are risky, in case others disagree in
public. What WE end up with, as readers - seekers - is
an opinion with underlying currents unrevealed.

What we need are recommendations.
You don’t like a film? Find another one.

What on earth value is “Stay away” except to deny
the reader - intimidate them if they’re young or stupid - the chance to judge?

This applies to music and all arts -
How many reviewers stand alone against the tide of their peers? (Funny. Tide, piers.)

I recently chatted with a vetted crit. I said I loved an
album, and he said he didn’t. But my word goes as far
as this hidden column, and his goes into a newspaper.

Is he entitled to his opinion?

Sure. But on that big platform, how about yay and nay
reviews? Gives the artists a chance.

An LATimes guy reviews the music of a rich Russian.
“He has been called the Russian Ricky Martin” writes
the snot. (“Has been.” Passive tense. By whom?)

Says the guy’s father is ‘connected’ over there, and
lays into his music, pop, which is anathematic to
reviewers who “live on the edge.”

Having read the review, I have no concept of the
guy’s music. Words of derision, attitudes, inform
us only of the scribbler.

Lyric evaluation guideline

Lyrics are not music.

Write them out - hear anything?
Music is audible.

Lyrics are something to accompany the music,
like a drum. If lyrics move you, get a book.

Lyrics can be bad, but if the song is good they
work. Their function is mechanical, solely.

The Art Of The Deal

I didn’t read Trump’s book, but I think it matches
business as I see it:

Put 30% down to give a project a foundation.
When it’s nearly done, offer 20%.

Better, go bankrupt.

If you’re the ditcher, you can find someone to
finish it for less than originally agreed. The
chump you partnered hasn’t the wherewithal
to sue you - so you’re the winner!

I thought about the Brooklyn Bridge.

The architect specified seven times the needed
cablestrength because he figured the supplier
would cheat the specs by 50%.

That’s business, and you can have it!


I like surprise, My iPod plays songs alphabetically.

The Driving Wheel

LA drivers are artists, often.

Weaving through traffic elegantly, courteous to a fault. Driving here is an adventure.

For example, in the small town of Hollywood I know
people who run red lights late at night, but only on
little-used streets with broad sight lines.

I - they, I mean - see no cops and no harm and go
forward when it’s safe, contributing to the general flow, saving gas, limiting pollution.

But there are also boors, idiots.

At a three forward-lane intersection, where the left is
dedicated to left turns and the right to right, the center go-ahead lane is often stone-stalled by right-turners with fear-of-the-curb.*

Cars are designed to make right turns within the
confines of one lane. To that end, curbs are corner-
curved, but few people trust it. Or themselves.

When I go south on Vine Street at Sunset, I pre-dread the, well, idiot in front of me signaling a right-turn, because in the majority (yes) of cases they will straddle two lanes.

They are, at least in Hollywood, typical LA drivers.

Tuesday mornings I see two conflicting LA drivers as I head west on the 101 freeway and pass the San Diego Freeway merger lane to my right.

I am saddened, horrified, how the line of inch-at-a-time forward moving cars often extends a full mile.

I salute people who endure this, probably daily. Drugs? Maybe books-on-tape. Or catch up on phone calls. Or write their memoirs on a keyboard on the passenger seat. (No, who would do that?)

Then come the epidemical creeps, the butters, who sneak alongside that line to the front stop, put on their right-turn signal and importune with pleading gestures to be let in. **

And someone always does!

If I were mayor or emperor I would permit winging interlopers, and paint-peppering the car body of suckers who let them in.

* Spelled “kerbs” in England. Why don’t the speak English?

** L.A. is line-butt heaven, because it's a good bet that one portable-screen reader is not guarding their position.


I have been accused of outsizedly criticizing women writers in the newspaper-nagging column, “Everybody Has One.”

It’s true. I checked. But it’s with women I find the laziest cliched suppositions. I don’t check bylines first.

Women in the press are doctrinaire crusaders for their cause.

‘So what’ you say? They should crusade for men?

Obviously, a balance needs to be maintained, but the gal writers are primarily unneutral crusaders and victims.

There are as many types of women as men. Some are smart, some are dumb, some this, some that.

But one thing’s for sure - most do not spend their lives assailing men. Those gals gravitate to the printed news field.

And that explains shrinkage in male readers.


A history channel offers “The ’50s - First Time in Color.”

They dipped black and white film in a light brown bath so everyone’s skin is the same shade, and made the sky a constant blue.

From there, sometimes as many as five colors appear, depending on the palate of the colorists.

It’s as phony as phony’s root, faux.


* Watching an African singer on Austin City Limits, I
realized I enjoyed it more than being there.

I’ve been to plenty concert tapings. The action moves
around the room and you miss stuff.

And technical foulups, songs start 3 times.

On tv you see the singer up close all the time, but as
they wander around the room you miss stuff.

Watch it on tv. It’s a clean hour.

*What causes thezzzzit! sound on a guitar? The plastic pick traveling along a corrugated string?

It’s affects me like fingernails on the blackboard.


* Trump SAYS he can grab some women’s pussies.

Not all of them, but the ones coming to him with
sexual proximity and targeted ambition.

(The thrill of grabbing a pussy is something I
know not. It’s just a prelude.)

What he meant was that women on the make for
his money will share their favors with him,
gambling on a return.

Ever heard of it?
Women trading sex for gain?
Not all, but some.

Trump, tho a boor, was astonished at
the lengths some women will go.


Isn’t it nice that gas pumps now have flat tops, to
place your gas cap? For many years they were
irregular surfaces — often rounded! …

Does anyone manufacture a car with front bench
seats? Once, in the Dark Ages, you could enter from
the passenger door and slide over …

I saw a 1962 film film which “cost only $10,000
to make” Cross-checking, that’s $84,000 today.

Has anyone up-calculated the $16 cost of
Manhattan Island? …

Who does TCM target with their Alfred Hitchcock
or Orson Welles branded wines? Certainly not
wine connoisseurs. I think they ‘make' their
audience as hicks. I’m not a drinker, but might
buy a bottle of Gabby Hayes hooch …

I have crossed my left leg over my right from
time immemorial. But now I am training my
other so I can be ambicrossal …

Do you really want a front row seat at a play?
Actors spit their lines.

The gambler

Entering an occupied down-bound elevator on a
mid-bldg floor, I never press “Down.”

What are the odds nobody else has?


I like variety in music, so I have the iPod play songs
alphabetically by title … Folksingers and someacousti jazz musickers here got the managers of the popular Sunday morning Ivar Avenue ‘farmers market’ in Hollywood to allow them to use amps. Fie on both ...

On “Jeopardy”

“A quaint old name for LA.”

The answer: “La la land.”

NOT quaint, you damn Canuck.

- 57 -



“Everybody Has One”



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