Month: March 2022

The Academy Awards show, which has become boring in the past ten years, was spiced up a bit on Sunday when actor Will Smith took offense at one of comedian/actor Chris Rock’s jokes, walked up onto the stage, slapped Rock in the kisser, returned to his seat and proceeded to cuss Rock out, using profanity.

Supposedly, Smith was offended by Rock’s joke about Smith’s wife’s shaved-bald head (the poor lady suffers from alopecia). If that was the case, his assault and battery might be excused (in fact, Rock declined to press charges), although comedians like Rock regularly include insult jokes in their shtick.

If comedians were to be assaulted whenever they offended someone, Don Rickles, Eddie Murphy, Lisa Lampanelli, Larry David and others would be regular customers in emergency rooms. (Hey, maybe they should be?)

What if the outrageous “assault” was staged? Just sayin’, but the Oscars show is an event to honor the theatrical arts and to give a PR boost to the motion picture industry… which needs some help following the pandemic. Will viewers be more or less likely to watch the next Oscars if such theatrical incidents are possible? If there is a chance that DeCaprio and Clooney would “throw down” on stage? I’d tune in, just sayin’.

I’m old enough to remember a few incidents at previous Oscar telecasts, since I began watching the Oscars back in the 1950’s with my Mom.

The Oscar telecast tends to drag on and on each year due to long acceptance speeches that note every person in the production and all of the honoree’s relatives and friends. There have been two exceptions to this abominable standard: the brief acceptance speeches of Anthony Quinn in 1956 (Best Supporting Actor) and Patti Duke in 1962 (Best Supporting Actress), which included only two words, “Thank You”.

Bless them.

A special Honorary Oscar was given to early cinema actor Charlie Chaplin in 1972. The legendary comedian was treated to a 12-minute continuous standing ovation by the audience. That, Folks, is respect. Without Chaplin, there may not have been a motion picture industry.

In 1973, an American Indian activist appeared onstage to refuse Marlon Brando’s Best Actor Oscar for “The Godfather”, reinforcing his image as a weird duck.

Back in 1974, some naked dude “streaked” across the stage as actor David Niven was at the podium. Niven ignored the man’s shortcomings and soldiered on without missing a beat. What a pro!

At the 1992 telecast, 73-year-old Jack Palance celebrated his Best Supporting Actor for “City Slickers” win by doing some one-armed-pushups onstage. The geezer earned a sequel but croaked early in the film. Too much exertion, probably.

David Letterman’s host effort at the 1995 Oscars bombed, including a lame joke about Oprah Winfrey’s and Uma Thurman’s names. One wag called Letterman’s performance “an explosion of excrement”. The late night TV host was never invited back.

In 2017, oldtimer Warren Beatty was given the wrong envelope and announced “LaLa Land” as the Best Picture, even though the real winner was “Moonlight”. This slow-motion catastrophe, which took several minutes to rectify, is known around Hollywood as Envelopegate.

My wife Charlie and I have been watching The Oscars for the past 48 years together. To be honest, these specials have gotten more and more unwatchable as time has gone on. I don’t know how much longer we will tune in. Maybe more fisticuffs will help?

Charlie does, however, love to watch the Oscars’ Red Carpet pre-show, where many female celebrities arrive in the latest fashions. In fact, the Oscars has tended to be a showcase for the world’s most famous high fashion designers and would-be fashion influencers.

The most famous dress in Oscars’ history was the “swan dress” worn by Icelandic artist Bjork in 2001. Why this unknown celebrity attended the Oscars telecast is unknown, except to promote the fashion designer, whose name is mercifully forgotten.

Bad taste is always in vogue, it seems. There is always some celebrity who feels it necessary to make a scene on the runway, one of those “What were they thinking?” moments caught on camera.

For the most part, the ensembles (dress, shoes, jewelry) tend to be classy, however there have been some horrible “looks” and “wardrobe malfunctions”, as well. Occasionally, a slit skirt will ride up too high or there will be some visible boobage. How much of this is “accidental” (or a PR stunt to get attention?) is debatable.

In recent years, there has been a move toward more cleavage (breast and ass) in the outfits, which lends itself to exposure here and there. There was one of those “Oops!” moments this year, when tennis star Venus Williams suffered a televised “nip slip” and had to cover up during the festivities.

One big improvement to the Oscars telecast is the fact that the show has been trimmed down a bit by eliminating the several choreography pieces that used to bore the Hell out of me. It was, basically, a chance for the Academy to showcase the talents of a lot of dancers, harking back to the old days when musicals were a staple of Hollywood entertainment. Those days are long gone, thank God.

However, last night there was a big dance number… and it was placed in a most inappropriate position in the telecast. Every year, the Academy honors deceased members (who died in the past year) with photographs of them and somber background music. This year, for some reason, one of the producers decided to besmirch the segment by having a dance troupe energetically bounce around to up tempo music during the Memorium segment. It was totally disrespectful, more shameful in my opinion than Will Smith’s ill-advised haymaker. Whoever thought up that choreographed abomination should be fired.

To be truthful, Charlie and I don’t go “to the movies” anymore and don’t do a lot of feature film streaming, either. I refuse to watch a film involving warefare with swords and bows and arrows, cartoon features, Marvel superheroes, and such, and Charlie won’t watch horror or sci fi films. These restrictions probably account for 90 percent of the new offerings. So, we hardly recognize the names of the current moviestars, such as they are.

Honestly, the fact that comedian/singer/actor/pugilist Will Smith is sitting in the front row of the Kodak Theater, where the biggest “stars” sit, as a Best Actor nominee, demonstrates, in my opinion, how low this “awards show” has fallen.

I like Will Smith and think he is a talented fellow and serviceable actor. However, I doubt that he will ever be compared to Spencer Tracy, Laurence Olivier, Marlon Brando, Jack Nicholson, Robert DeNiro, Morgan Freeman, Daniel Day Lewis, or Denzel Washington. Let’s face it, Samuel L. Jackson has appeared in $8 jillion worth of big movies: Will Smith couldn’t carry his jockstrap (or Clark Gable’s or John Wayne’s, for that matter). Mrs. Smith might disagree on that latter point.

But, I’ve been wrong about a lot of things in my life. Maybe Will Smith will win a bunch of Oscars? Maybe Santa Claus is real? And, maybe Donald Trump will be awarded the 2020 election, after all?

I suppose I need to get jiggy with it, to use the title of one of Will Smith’s rap songs.

Those a-holes over at the H.O.A. are insisting that I take down my rabbit fencing (18″ high galvanized mesh) that keeps Vinnie in the backyard and keeps the friggin’ rabbits from eating my ice plant.

Sumbitches want me to put in an 18″ metal fence that matches the 5’ metal fencing that surrounds the yard. It’s a several-thousand-dollar, long-term fix for a short-term problem. Who elected these boneheads?

In an act of defiance, I bought an invisible fence online for $200. It is a buried electrical line that sends out a signal to a collar attached to poor Vinnie’s neck. There is a warning beep if he gets too close and a shock if he ventures into the “no man’s land’.

Of course, I had to check it out to see if it worked. Oh, yeah, it WORKED, just about knocking me to the ground.

I had the “intensity” setting at 5 out of 5: big mistake. So, I dialed it back to 3 and put the collar on poor, unsuspecting Vinnie.

I held him in my arms and we approached the boundary area. When we were ten feet from the buried wire, I heard the beep warning and then, much sooner than I thought, poor Vinnie got shocked. He yelped and we got the Hell out of there.

I have dialed the system back a bit but it’s probably unnecessary: Vinnie won’t go anywhere near the backyard gate or the metal fence itself. I’ve even thrown his favorite elk bone into the invisible “correction area” and Vinnie won’t go anywhere near it. He’s no Dummy: he got the message loud and clear.

I’ve taken down the rabbit fencing near the adjacent street (where the temptations arise, like people walking dogs, and Vinnie stays put on his lawn.

I’m so proud of him.

I think we will keep this regime in place for a month to make sure that there’s no backsliding. We’ve never had a problem with dogs exiting the yard through the fence and I’m sure that Vinnie is a smart as they were/are. He’s got a Paradise; why should he leave?

We are absolutely in love with our man dog. He’s a perfect fit with the other two dogs and is very loving toward us. We would hate to have him wander off; it would crush us.

If everyone does his/her part in this training program, we will turn the switch off by the end of April.

It’s been a little over two years since the SARS-Cov-2 virus (Covid 19) pandemic hit the fan in the United States. Over 80,000,000 Americans have contracted the virus, I million have died from it, and many millions of citizens have been hospitalized, missed work, and have “recovered” but now have long-term health issues.

We’re not totally out of the woods yet, but most of America is returning to a semblance of “normal” with diminishing health measures being employed in most States. It’s about time.

What have we learned from this horrible drama?

First, it appears that our governments, Federal and State, were ill-prepared for a health emergency as insidious as the Covid-19 pandemic. Basic medical supplies were hard to come by and it took many months for supply chain and logistical coordination to be organized. As is so often the case with natural disasters, FEMA was slow to react and help in a meaningful way.

Second, the scientists who had to identify the virus, figure out how it works, how it could be remedied, and how Americans could protect themselves (and others) until a vaccine was developed were subjected to intense politics… by elected officials who had no experience in viruses, pandemics, public health, etc. There was a massive failure of leadership in this country at many levels of government.

Third, the second-guessing by politicians spread like the flu into American society, so that every Tom, Dick, and Harry had a strong opinion about… things that they knew nothing about. Joe Public was annoyed by public health measures which restricted his freedom and he made sure everyone knew about it. Craziness ensued to the point that low-level workers at grocery stores and restaurants were being physically attacked for advising patrons of public health facemask requirements. There was even an attempted kidnapping of the Governor of Michigan by crazies who disagreed with public health measures.

Fourth, misinformation underwent an epidemic of its own, as arm-chair “experts”, cable news “talking heads”, podcasters, and social media influencers filled the digital universe with bogus cures, slanders of public health figures, claims that the pandemic was a hoax, and that it was a terrorist attack on America by the Chinese. The President of the United States led the misinformation attack on science, scientists, and elected officials who took the pandemic seriously. President Trump personally and publicly recommended three Covid-19 “curative” medicines that had no proven efficacy, against the advice of his epidemiological experts. All of this “fake news” confused, and probably harmed, a great many Americans.

A lot of silliness went on and is still going on, trying to pretend that this pandemic was an overblown “flu”, and that government went overboard in its effort to contain it. An enormous “anti-vax” campaign was unleashed which, in essence, dragged out the pandemic a lot longer than necessary. Had everyone done their best social distancing, wearing of masks, and getting vaccinated as soon as they could, this horrible catastrophe could have been ended back in 2021. It’s now almost April of 2022 and about one-third of Americans have yet to get their free Covid-19 immunizations. It’s shameful.

The response from these selfish morons is, “See, I didn’t get vaccinated and I’m still here!” Unfortunately, over 1 million Americans are dead, another 80 million Americans were infected, millions of Americans were hospitalized, businesses lost hundreds of millions of hours of production to sick employees, millions of mothers quit work to care for their children who couldn’t go to school, and so forth. Many people who didn’t observe proper health protocols got Covid-19, survived, but spread it others who got sick. I believe that almost all our children and grandchildren living in Southern California were infected by Covid-19 (some twice!) before they got vaccinated. They caught it at work and at school from people who probably didn’t know that they were infected. Some of those folks took protective measures half-heartedly and probably could have been vaccinated but opted not to.

The whole pandemic catastrophe is a stain on the character of America in the 21^st Century.

Back when I was young, diseases like polio, measles, mumps, diphtheria, and such ravaged our Nation. In the 1950’s, science and government worked together to develop and distribute vaccines, virtually everyone got the “shots”, and America wiped out those diseases. It was a team effort, there’s was no belly-aching, no blind-siding by politicians, and no public debate. It was something that had to be done and Americans did it.

All through the 1960’s, 1970’s, and 1980’s, it was mandatory that all children going to public schools be vaccinated against those same diseases. There was no “anti-vax” hoopla; everyone knew what was at stake and they got their children vaccinated. Those childhood diseases were virtually extinct in America.

Nowadays, it seems like there is way too much individualism and selfishness going on in this Nation. Sure, we have Constitutional rights to do this and that, but they are not absolute. Common sense must come into play. One cannot yell, “Fire!” in a crowded theater. One cannot bring a loaded gun onboard a commercial aircraft. I believe it is a crime for a person who has AIDS to have sex with another person without informing his or her partner.

Good public health requires the public to do sensible things to improve unhealthy environments and reduce contagion. As a society, we must rely on legitimate medical experts (real scientists) for best advice, not arm-chair philosophers. When a serious epidemic occurs, our rights need to be adjusted to accommodate the overall needs of society. Individual rights need to suffer, temporarily, when there is an emergency.

If this American society does not learn from this pandemic and “grow up”, the next one will probably do us in.

Lots of interesting things happened in 1974:

An economic recession caused by OPEC oil crisis, couple with high inflation

The Watergate scandal and subsequent resignation of President Richard Nixon

The “Rumble in the Jungle” heavyweight title fight between Ali and Foreman

Heiress Patty Hearst was kidnapped

People Magazine was first published

The buried Terracotta Army was discovered in China

The world population reached 4 billion

A Universal Product Code was scanned for first time on a pack of Wrigley’s gum

John Lennon made his final public appearance with Elton John at Madison Square Garden

Leonardo DiCaprio was born and Charles Lindbergh died

Popular food items included Jello salads, Swanson TV dinners, and Hamburger Helper

Song of the Year was Barbra Streisand’s “The Way We Were” and “The Sting” won the Oscar for Best Motion Picture

The Miami Dolphins won the Super Bowl

The World Trade Center, the tallest building in the world, opened for business

An average new car cost $4,441 and the average price of a new home was $35,000

The Federal Minimum Wage was $2.00 and gold cost $184.00 per ounce

“Happy Days” began an 11-year run on ABC and Mel Brooks’ “Blazing Saddles” premiered

Actress Elizabeth Taylor divorced actor Richard Burton

Three of America’s biggest corporations were General Motors, Ford, and Chrysler.

Mary Charlene Heim married Craig Manning in Covina, California

That last one was a biggee.

Against all odds and advice, Craig and Charlie and her four young sons (Tim, Ron, Jeff, and Jon) set out on a great adventure. At the time, our family was residing in a small home in Valinda, California, Charlie was a Licensed Vocational Nurse, and Craig had just graduated from Cal State University at Los Angeles while working part-time as an X-ray Technologist.

It seems like a blur, looking back four-plus decades, but we got the kids graduated from high school, Craig enjoyed a long and fruitful career with the County of Riverside, Charlie established a successful bookkeeping and tax service business, we bought and sold several homes, and traveled the world. Our children have prospered and multiplied and we now have literally scores of grandchildren and some greatgrandchildren, as well, scattered all over America.

It’s been an adventure, to say the least… a very wonderful one.

As I’ve told friends and relatives many times, Charlie and I are a very good match not because we are so alike but, rather, because our differences compliment each other. Charlie is impulsive, while I am an analyst, thinking several moves in advance. “Opposites attract” goes the saying.

We certainly don’t agree on all things, but we do agree on the things that matter. We both agree that one should “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you”. We argue and yell at each other from time to time, but it’s usually over some stupid matter that resolves itself. Big decisions are made together, never just by one of us.

The thing that makes it all work is the enormous love and respect that we have for one another. We both work hard at making our home and life an enjoyable one. There’s no “Boss” in our house; we both do whatever it takes to get things done, whether it be cooking, cleaning, decorating, tending to the pets, arranging for social events with friends, etc. We call it “Team Manning”.

Charlie’s business has really allowed us to enjoy a lot of finer things. My salary, when I was working, and later, my retirement income, pays the basic expenses and Charlie’s business income pays for the “extras”, like home improvements and vacations.

The void in the home that was present when the children became adults and went out on their own has been filled, to some extent, by our dogs. They supply an energy to the house that provides warmth and amusement, and also fills our natural instinct to nurture. We were blessed to enjoy many years with our first two Boston Terriers, Booger and JayJay. Now, we lavish our attention on our three Bostons (Baby, BonBon, and Vinnie) and they return the favor in spades. It would be an empty and boring world without them.

Years ago, we shifted gears in terms of vacationing, opting for motorhome trips instead of world travel (which we had done quite a bit in our earlier years). Currently, we have a very nice motorhome in which the five of us can travel in style anywhere in America that we wish. Our routine of late has been a 3-month Summertime routing along the Oregon and California coasts to beat the heat (we live in the Nevada desert). It’s an expensive hobby but we can afford it and we deserve it so we do it. And, the dogs love it, too.

Charlie and I have both changed a lot physically since the “good ol’ days” of 1974. Things are sagging a bit, equipment might not work as well, hair is graying, and we’re not as nimble as we used to be. However, we still have that enormous love for each other that cannot be questioned. Each of us would do anything for the other. As the saying goes, “A happy wife means a happy life”.

We have many relatives and friends who help us enjoy our Great Adventure together. Luckily for me, my wife is an social extrovert (while I am an introvert), so we are blessed with relationships that bring interest and life-long friendships to our lives. I would lead a pretty boring life if it weren’t for the social butterfly who is my wife.

We now live in Mesquite, Nevada, seventy miles north of Las Vegas, one mile from Arizona, and forty miles south of Utah. It might seem to be in the middle of nowhere, but we love it here. It’s clean, the air is clear, there’s no crime or traffic congestion, and we have many friends and neighbors who have similar lives and experiences to share. The home we live in is one of the finest in our community and we are very proud of the customization that we’ve put into it.

We’ve come a long way from that crummy house in Valinda, California.

Charlie is now in her late 70’s and I will be 75 this coming December. We’ve been together for a total of 49 years (we lived together for a while before marrying) and are lucky to be as healthy as we are. We got our shots and luckily avoided Covid-19, and we pay attention to the advice given by our doctors. At the rate we’re going… “knock on wood”… we should make it to 50 years together like both of our parents’ did. That’s quite an accomplishment in today’s world.

Yesterday evening, Charlie and I celebrated our 48^th anniversary with a very nice dinner at Gregory’s, an upscale steakhouse at the local Eureka Casino and Hotel.

We are very lucky people.

We drove the motorhome down to Yuma at Christmastime to spend some time with our good friends, the Quinns.

It’s now March 23^rd (our 48^th anniversary!), and the Yuma trip was finally concluded yesterday when I drove the RV back to Mesquite from Southern California. Hip, hip, hooray!!!

We had The Beast in drydock at Temecula Valley RV undergoing a bunch of repairs that took three months to accomplish. The main hold-up was the infamous “supply chain”: we had to wait for a new aluminum roof ladder, a slide motor, and a air pressure system manifold (that had to come from Ireland!). Mucho dinero later… everything seems to work, for now. Hip, hip, hooray!!!

Yesterday, I made the 400-mile milk run from So Calif to Mesquite, Nevada. A long, boring slog, to be sure. The winds were blowing about 50 mph below the Cajon Pass (near San Bernardino) and I was afraid the RV and my cojones were going to be blown off I-15. However, once I summited the Pass, the winds died down and I enjoyed maybe the nicest Vegas run that I’ve had in the past 30 years. Light traffic, not many 18-wheelers, only one accident delay… it was a beautiful day, albeit a long one. Hip, hip, hooray!

I decided to put fuel into the motorhome before I hit Barstow, so I stopped at the Love’s truck stop at Lenwood. Diesel was $6.24 per gallon. I had maybe one-third of a tank full, and probably could have made it home on what I had, but I always like to keep at least a half-tank of fuel (about 65 gallons) so I put in $400 worth, which worked out to 64 gallons.

Then, I motored up I-15 into Nevada. Just north of Vegas, I noticed the Love’s truck stop (at the Ely turnoff) advertising diesel fuel for $5.28 per gallon, almost one dollar per gallon cheaper than the Love’s near Barstow. Gee, had I been patient, I would have saved almost $64 on fuel.

Sure, I know that state tax on diesel fuel is 45 cents per gallon higher in California. But, where does the other 51 cents per gallon go?? Seems like a ripoff, especially since the same company (Love’s) is buying their wholesale fuel from the same vendor, at the same time, in the same country. That fuel is most likely being refined in San Pedro, California, which is closer (by several hundred miles on I-15) to the California Love’s than the Nevada Love’s. Fuel transportation cost for the Nevada Love’s has to be more: doesn’t make sense to me.

On the drive to California in my Jeep, I stopped in Jean, Nevada for gas. The price in Mesquite, Nevada (where we live) is around $5 for Regular 87 octane. The Chevron in Jean wanted $6.00 per gallon. I was offended and drove another dozen miles to Whiskey Pete’s Chevron station at the state line (Primm) on I-15. It’s an enormous gas station complex with at least 50 pumps. They raped me for $6.68 per gallon. That’s 68 cents per gallon more than their Chevron counterparts 12 miles north on I-15. Same State, same taxes, same company owner, etc.

Some moron had affixed one of those Joe Biden “I did this” decals to the price per gallon indicator on the Chevron pump. Very funny, except that no President controls the State tax on gasoline, no President controls the basic fuel cost at the pump, no President controls what the Big Oil cartels decide to charge for refined petroleum, and no President controls what a greedy station owner might charge for his gasoline. All of us (even Joe Biden) are at the mercy of Big Oil and the greedy gas station owners who can charge whatever they want for the product they are selling. Biden has no involvement in the greed that is occurring.

When I got home (still in Nevada), I was able to buy 87 octane Regular gasoline for $4.84 at Smiths. That is $1.84 per gallon less than in Primm (Nevada), only 100 miles south on I-15 from my house.

Ladies and Gentlemen: It’s called Free Enterprise, caveat emptor, “Let them eat cake”, Greed is Good, etc. If you don’t like it, you can live in Venezuela.

Venezuela, by the way, is an oil exporting nation like the United States. Unlike America, Venezuela long ago nationalized oil production… i.e. the government there is Big Oil… and the President/dictator is responsible for gas prices. In Venezuela, the current price per gallon for gasoline is 3 cents.

Sounds good, but the head of government there is President for Life (or until another dictator comes along to replace him). He’s a ruthless S.O.B.

We could have had one of those leaders in 2020 but Donald Trump had the election stolen from him.

Recently, I got my annual text message from my brother Terry asking, with gas prices so high, was I going to take the motorhome on the road this Summer?

“Sure”, I told him, and explained that fuel is an incidental cost of RV’ing.

That’s hard for someone to believe if they don’t own and travel about in a large motorhome.

We pay about $2,000 per year just to store it, $1,700 to insure it, and another $800 for license tags in Nevada. So, we’re down $4,500 before we head off on vacation. Let’s call those our “fixed costs”.

Every year since we have owned The Beast, we have put substantial money into repairs and improvements. The rig was ten years old when we purchased it and we’ve now owned it for another seven years, making it seventeen years old. Our Monaco Windsor was a luxury coach when it was new, costing over $325,000 in 2005. Lots of gadgets, expensive furniture, giant tires, and such wear out over time; we’ve replaced a lot of stuff. We’ve also upgraded the floors, the window coverings, and replaced the refrigerator/freezer and washer/dryer. This past year we’ve replaced the exterior roof ladder, put in a new slide motor, replaced the compressed air system manifold, fixed the front door, replaced window screens, etc. I would guess that we’ve put over $30,000 into repairs, replacement items, and upgrades since we bought it. Let’s just say an average of $5,000 per year in “repairs/upgrades”. (That doesn’t include repairs that were covered by insurance.)

So, “fixed costs” of $4,500 plus “repairs/upgrades” of $5,000 equals $9,500 in cost… before we head out on our 3,000 mile journey. That’s about $3.16 per mile in non-fuel expense.

Last year, we used about 350 gallons of diesel fuel. At an average of $3.80 per gallon, we spent around $1,350 for fuel. If fuel cost increases to $5.00 per gallon, the additional fuel cost to travel this Summer will be about $400. Even at that rate, we would be paying about $0.58 per mile in fuel expense, or less than 20 percent of our non-fuel expense.

That’s why I say that fuel is an incidental expense.

Of course, we don’t “dry camp” in the boondocks or in Wal-Mart parking lots. Oh, no. My wife expects our overnight stays to be in very nice RV resorts which cost plenty. Our average nightly rent expense for the entire 3-month trip is about $70 per night, so we can anticipate another $2,100 in “rent” expense.

So, our total anticipated expense for this Summer’s jaunt along the Oregon and California coasts is around $13,350  ($4,500 + $5,000 + $1,750 + $2,100).

Yes, that’s a LOT of money, an ungodly waste of funds. We should probably be reprimanded for blowing our fortune in this way; we’re taking money out of our children’s mouths. Smoking $100 cigars would be cheaper.

However, it’s our money, we have enough to spend on extravagances like this, and we will do it for long as we can physically manage it.

So, to get back to those godawful fuel prices, even if fuel hits $5.00 or even $6.00 per gallon, that cost is an incidental one and we’ll bear it. (Hopefully, it will thin the herd at the popular RV resorts and National Parks which are hard to get into!)

By the way, I hate to hear crybabies moan and groan about fuel prices. The average price per gallon for gasoline in the United States is yet to reach $5.00, while European countries have been paying that much for the past thirty years. The average price per gallon right now in France is $7.94 and in the U.K. it’s $7.72.

The solution to this problem, adopted decades ago in European countries, was a shift to small cars that get 30 to 45 miles per gallon. Americans refused to go there, insisting on big cars with powerful engines (“gas guzzlers”). Even now, thirty years late, the average new car in the U.S. probably doesn’t get 30 miles per gallon.

I’m sure that, in ten years, virtually all new cars will be electric powered and Joe Consumer can give the middle finger to Big Oil.

That, of course, will not help the fuel-guzzling 400 H.P. Turbocharged Cummins diesel engine in my 2005 Monaco Windsor. Fuel will probably be $15.00 per gallon by then. Big Oil will have me bent over a log, so to speak; fuel cost will then be incidental.

The only solution will be to park the mo-fo in Mexico and live in it full time.

Dios Mio!

I just spent the past three days unloading and placing 3 tons of chunky rock in my front and back yards… wheelbarrow by wheelbarrow, rock by rock.

Whew, my back is SORE! Thank you, God, for inventing Tylenol.

This project was made necessary by the scores of dogs that are walked by our long Buggy Whip Court frontage, which is covered mostly in gravel and which many dogs use to pee and poop… and then scoot a bunch of gravel out into the street for me to clean up. It’s annoying, because the dogs’ owners just keep walking like nothing happened.

Anyway, I have several neighbors who have solved this problem by edging their property-side curb with rocks that are 3 to 6 inches in diameter. It looks clean and the dogs don’t mess with it; they just move on down the line to the next graveled frontage. Problem solved.

I had six one-ton bags of Chunky Cherry Mist rock delivered to the house on Tuesday. The total cost, including delivery, was about $300. It took about 24 hours of labor, spread out over three days, to install the rock apron. I even had some rock left over to do a honey-do job in our backyard.

Had I contracted with one of the local landscape firms to do this job, it would have cost me about $3,000.

While I was high-fiving myself for a job well done, we got a notice from the H.O.A. “compliance” Nazi that our 18” high, galvanized metal mesh border at the bottom of our 5’ tall metal fence surrounding our backyard… to keep our small Boston Terrier “Vinnie” on the property… is ILLEGAL in Sun City and will have to be taken down.

Of course, absent that mesh, Mr. Vinnie would hit the road the next time anyone would walk their dog by our property. Our older Boston Terrier “Baby” is too big to fit through our fencing (it’s maybe 4” between metal slats) and 2-year-old Boston Terrier “BonBon”, who is about the size of Vinnie, is trained not to do it. Eventually, Vinnie would be like the other two: happy to have a great yard to play in and no interest in roaming. We wouldn’t need the protective fencing.

However, I have to comply with the friggin’ H.O.A. So, that $2,700 that I saved on the rock edging project will probably get eaten up by the goddamn “pet fencing” that I will have to get a local contractor to install.

Charlie will have to do a few more tax returns to pay for this surprise expense.

The “approved” pet fencing that the H.O.A. insists that I retrofit onto my 5′ metal fence is, essentially, an 18″ replica of the big fence but staggered, so that the opening between slats is about 2″ instead of 4″.

This type of sturdy metal pet fencing is plainly visible from at least 60′ away. As mentioned, my mesh is invisible at 25′. Go figure.

Those dogs will be the death of us.

The Russian invasion of neighboring Ukraine marches on. It’s a big country and it will be difficult for Putin’s boys to totally capture and govern. It could end up like Afghanistan for the Russians, bogged down in a guerrilla war for years.

Meanwhile, the Western nations have basically pulled the plug on the Russian economy, inflicting severe hardships on that country with various sanctions. Imports of Russian goods are being banned in many countries, fewer countries are willing to purchase Russian energy, major financial institutions are bailing on Russia, big-name corporations are declaring that they won’t do business in Russia anymore, and the ruble, the Russian dollar, has plummeted in value.

Vladimir Putin might win the battle for Ukrainian real estate, but his country might, in the process, go down the tubes economically.

The United States and its allies seem to be ratcheting up the pressure daily, in effect declaring economic war against Russia.

What will be the tipping point, when Vladimir Putin either throws in the towel or pushes all of his chips into the pot via some obscene action. The guy is a high stakes player, for sure, and he is an excellent bluffer. Putin is dangerous and, now, desperate.

He’s already publicly noted that his nuclear forces are on alert. I’m sure they are, as are ours. Anybody pushing that button will basically end life as we know it. So, that scenario is doubtful.

He might use some thuggish tactics (WMD’s) in Ukraine, like chemical weapons. This would not be out of character for Russia, who helped Assad in Syria do the same thing. If those things start to fall in Ukraine, it might provoke the Western powers to step in militarily. That’s a horrible thought.

The economic sanctions directed at Russia are tantamount to a “blockade”, which can be interpreted as an act of war. In Russia’s view, the U.S. is now at war with their country.

In modern geopolitics, nations that don’t feel like duking out their differences on a battlefield often resort to escalating provocations; i.e. warning shots across the bow, to use an old Navy term. “Watch out, Buddy, or I’m going to really get mad!”

I think that the most probably Russian response to Western economic sanctions will come in the way of cyberwarfare. When it is used properly, the hacking can be devastating to infrastructure and can be denied, as well. “We deny doing this! We have no idea who those hackers are! It could be the North Koreans or the Chinese; who knows?”

I am sure that our NSA cyber experts are anticipating this and probably have scenarios where the U.S. can “return the favor” to Russia via some untraceable cyber mischief.

In a digital society, the superpowers have not only the capability of destroying each other with nuclear bombs but, also, with dancing fingers on a keyboard.

It could get nasty. Desperate people do desperate things.

Where do we go from here?

My wife Charlie has wondered, for decades, who her biological father was.

Charlie doesn’t look like either of her parents or her five siblings, this difference was evident to her and her peers early on, and it was commented on by her classmates (“Are you adopted?”). As she matured, Charlie was taller than her Dad and Mom, her two brothers, and her three sisters.

Something was rotten in Denmark, as the saying goes.

Questions related to this anomaly, directed by Charlie to her parents, were usually dismissed with something on the order of, “Change the subject.” In a Catholic household, you do what you’re told and don’t question authority. So, that nagging emptiness in Charlie remained an issue for her as she matured into adulthood.

Charles (Chuck) and Mary Jane (Smith) Meister were married about for over half a century, and both passed in 1997 when their oldest daughter Charlie was ostensibly 51 years old.

No one still living knows when Charlie was actually born because her supposed Cook County, Illinois birth certificate was declared a fake about 20 years ago by… Cook County, Illinois officials. So, Charlie still didn’t know when she was born, where, and who her biological parents were.

These are the very questions that Charlie posed to her Mom earlier in her life. Mary was uncomfortable with the question and, essentially, brushed Charlie off. Her Mom avoided the question in the years following, even on her deathbed.

After Chuck and Mary passed in 1997, some family story tidbits emerged from the Smith and Meister clans. The little that did leak out from Charlie’s aunt and uncle mentioned some guy named Richard, whom Mary referred to as “the love of her life”. He was a boyfriend from Chicago who was killed in World War II. The story went on that, subsequent to Richard’s death, Mary “went off to Florida” to grieve. It was there that she met “some Italian guy”, something happened, and Mary got pregnant.

Of course, Charlie’s eventual Dad, Charles Meister, wasn’t in Florida at that time: he was off in Europe fighting the Nazis. However, he was an acquaintance of Mary’s (he was one of the neighborhood guys and may have known her beau Richard), was attracted to Mary, and found out via the neighborhood grapevine that Mary was a damsel in distress.  A wartime correspondence ensued (Chuck’s letters to Mary were discovered upon their deaths) in which Chuck courted Mary from Europe and indicated his willingness to rescue her from her motherly predicament and assume the role of Daddy to the newborn child.

We can only surmise what then happened: Chuck Meister returned to America, got married to Mary Jane Smith, and with the help of both families and their connections, obtained a blank Cook County Hospital birth certificate and doctored it up to provide “legitimacy” to little Mary Charlene.

Charlie’s birth certificate says she was born on January 3, 1946 in Chicago. However, it is obvious that the little tyke was already living when Chuck Meister was corresponding from Germany with Mary Jane Smith who was living in Florida at the time. That is because Chuck mentions Mary’s little baby in his correspondence. Thus, we know that Charlie was a living, breathing human being by 1945, for sure.

So, she is at least 77 years old, not 76.

Everyone involved in the Smith and Meister families (parents, brothers, and sisters) agreed to back the birth fable and agreed to take the secret to their graves, which they did to “honor Mary’s wishes”.

Because Charlie always wanted to know what really happened, her quest for answers went unfulfilled.

The answer came in 2021, when DNA testing/genealogic tracing became available to everyone for a small fee. Charlie sent in her saliva and, lo and behold, it is apparent that her biological father was of Italian origin. That confirmed the rumor of “some Italian guy” hooking up with young Mary Jane Smith in Florida.

Further inquiry on “23 and Me” (the Web-based genealogy service) revealed that Charlie has some living relatives on Mr. Italian’s side of the family tree. Actually, they contacted Charlie first. She has subsequently communicated with some of them and has fleshed out her birth story a bit.

We are now pretty sure the”Italian guy” was named Peter Millett. He was an immigrant from Naples, Italy and “Millett” was an anglicized version of his Italian name: Pietro Migliaccio. Information from his relatives indicate that he either owned or was living at a particular hotel in Florida at the same time that Mary Jane Smith was staying at that very hotel. This is based upon Chuck’s correspondence with her during the war: the hotel name was on the Mary’s envelope.

Peter Millett would have been in his 40’s at the time, while Mary Jane Smith was in her mid-20’s. One of Millett’s relatives who Charlie has talked to said that Peter was reputed to be quite a womanizer in his day. He was a good-looking, dark-haired guy who was more than average in height.

Young lady falls for charmer: it happens all the time. No judgment here.

Subsequent information provided to Charlie by relatives on the Millet side of the family tree (for example, photos of Peter and his daughter Regina) make it evident how Charlie came to look very different from her siblings. Charlie and Regina (who would have been Charlie’s half-sister) bear a strong resemblance, and Peter’s face featured a dark-haired uni-brow, similar to the one Charlie had before she started plucking her eyebrows in her teens. Peter and Regina also have the same eye shape and color as does Charlie.

Finally, an answer. Unfortunately, biological father Peter and half-sister Regina are deceased, so Charlie never got a chance to meet either one of them.

My wife is now texting and talking to several daughters of her half-sister Regina (Charlie would be their Aunt) and is learning more about that side of the family. They are all Catholic and have Mary in their names. Charlie (Mary Charlene) is fascinated by all of it and it is filling up that void in her soul that was always present. She feels more complete, as a human being, knowing the truth about herself.

The only unknown at this point is where and when she was born. Charlie and sister Theresa, with help from her nieces in New York, are looking into this. We suspect Florida in 1945. A legitimate birth certificate would help.

One truth that Charlie always knew was that she was loved by Chuck and Mary Meister and she loved them with all her heart until they passed out of this world. She wishes that her Mom would have confided in her as she matured, as it might have eased some of the anxiety. Importantly, had Charlie been told the truth, she would have had the opportunity to directly thank her Dad for stepping up to the plate in 1945 and taking her on as his own.

Chuck Meister never mentioned a word of this to Charlie during his life. He played his part in the Genesis story because it was the right thing to do, and he kept the family secret in wife Mary’s honor. A very admirable man and husband he was.

Anyway, Charlie now has answers to the burning questions, so life can move on.

Now she can obsess about other things, like her fake fingernails.

I’ve been thinking about horses since yesterday.

In mid-afternoon, I had a consultation with my orthopedic surgeon Dr. Parry about my bum right shoulder. We’re contemplating arthroscopic surgery to repair my labrum. However, the doctor is trying some cortisone injections first to see if that helps.

He asked me again yesterday, “How long ago did you injure it?” The short answer is about five months ago when something popped as I was lifting about 50 pounds of Christmas decorations off of a high storage rack.

However, as I told him, the shoulder has been stiff and weak since an equestrian mishap maybe a dozen years ago. I fell off my quarterhorse “Louie” during a cattle “sorting” exercise in an arena, landed on my outstretched right hand, and the force went straight up to my shoulder where it tore up some muscles, tendons, and stuff. Subsequently, I had rotator cuff surgery which was partially successful.

So, I had Louie on my mind when I came home from the doctor’s office.

Later, as I was preparing dinner and turned on the TV to kill time, a movie was just starting and Charlie and I found ourselves watching it. The movie was Seabiscuit, a horse racing flick starring Jeff Bridges, Tobey Maguire and William Macy. It was an interesting drama, we got caught up in it and ended up watching the whole thing.

Seabiscuit was lightly-regarded as a youngster because no one could figure out what made him tick. Eventually, a new owner, trainer, and jockey found the combination to his immense “heart”, and he went on to be a great champion. He beat the 1937 Triple Crown winner “War Admiral” in a two-horse match race at Pimlico racecourse and was named Horse of the Year in 1938. He and his regular jockey, Red Pollard, later experienced severe injuries but recovered sufficiently to, against all odds, win the Santa Anita Handicap, the most famous race on the West Coast.

The movie got me thinking about my “Louie” and another horse that I knew quite well, “Yogi”.

I got into horse riding and competing by accident, really. I met a guy named Ed Metzler through a charity that my wife was involved with (National Assistance League). He had a nearby ranch and he invited me to go on a trail ride with him. I was around 55 years old at the time and had never really ridden horses. We had a great time, struck up a friendship, and he began to teach me how to “cowboy”. I had no idea at the time what a great horseman Ed was; I realized later that my instructor was a top-notch quarterhorse breeder, trainer, and champion rider. My instruction was free and I got to use Ed’s quality horses. Ed was a very fine man, to boot, and I think he liked my companionship out at his ranch and on trail rides.

Ed’s go-to horse in arena competitions (gymkhana, sorting, and cutting) at the time was named “Yogi”. Much like Seabiscuit, Yogi was misunderstood when he was young and his multiple owners tried to make him something he wasn’t. He was fast and so he was trained to be a quarter-miler for the track at Los Alamitos. That didn’t work out, so somebody tried to make him a roping horse. Nope: Yogi was freaked out by rope swinging near his head. Eventually, Ed Metzler got ahold of Yogi and discovered the horse’s true calling: arena competitions. By the time I met Ed and Yogi, that horse was essentially the “king” of such competitions in Southern California. He was an outstanding barrel racer, keyhole racer, pole racer, and excellent sorting horse.

Yogi had something that Seabiscuit had, as well. It was an extra gear, kind of like “warp drive” in the spaceship Milennium Falcon (Star Wars). When Yogi shifted into this gear, particularly in barrel races, after rounding the last barrel, he could ride out from underneath you. The acceleration was so pronounced that even Ed, an expert competitor, would have to hold onto the pommel to stay aboard his equine dragster. Yogi was scary fast, and his competition always knew that they were competing for second place.

After a few years, I developed into a decent rider and moved up to better horses on Ed’s ranch. Eventually, I entered minor-league competitions and did well. At one local riding club contest, I won 5 of the seven gymkhana events riding on Ed’s second-string horse. After that, I began riding Yogi, as he was getting older (but still beating everyone!) and Ed was focusing his training and riding on a yearling named “Classy”.

Unfortunately, right before the annual “Big Ride” of our riding club of about 100 horsemen, Yogi injured a hoof and I wasn’t able to compete on him at the championship rodeo. I did ride Ed’s wife’s old horse “Doctor” in the pole racing competition and, with Yogi not in the competition, I won.

After the disappointment with Yogi, and realizing that I was a decent rider, I was hooked on equestrian stuff (and burned out on golfing), so Ed and Charlie conspired to get me my own horse. “Louie” was his name, and he was a 5-year-old quarterhorse whose sire and dam were both “Doc Bar” progeny. (Doc Bar is considered one of the greatest quarterhorse sires in history.)

“Louie” was another horse who took some time finding his calling. He was a sturdy, handsome guy with speed and agility. I actually obtained him from Ed’s equestrian vet Mike Hoge, who had tried to develop Louie into a roping horse. Unfortunately, Louie wasn’t patient enough to “wait on” a cow; he would impulsively want to race the scared thing and frustrate the rider/roper. So, Mike had no use for him. I did, however, as Louie was good at everything else like cattle sorting, gymkhana events, and trail riding. With the latter, he was cool, calm, and collected, actually better than Ed’s horses. Louie and I used to go alone on long trail rides in the Cleveland National Forest: what fun!

Louie was very good with cattle. He instinctively knew who was boss out there in the arena and pushed those cows wherever we needed them to go. Horses aren’t geniuses but they are smarter than cows. That plus their size equals intimidation. Louie also had great moves in the arena and was not in the least bothered by chasing a cow into a wall at top speed to turn it. In fact, it was one of those surprisingly quick moves that left me 8’ in the air and heading for the dirt that caused my right shoulder injury.

Horses are peculiar animals. They can be trained to do a lot of things, but they are not the smartest critters God ever made. A “tame” horse is still 90 percent wild, in my opinion, and a very instinctive animal. Horses are “prey”, rather than predator, creatures so they have a well-developed “flight” instinct. A rider needs to keep his wits about him when he and his mount are out on the trail. Any surprises, like a sudden noise or appearance of a barking dog, can freak out even a well-trained horse. I got unseated once when a clever, asshole dog jumped out from behind a bush where he was lying in wait and startled Louie. My horse chucked me into a pile of leaves and sauntered ¼ mile back to the barn by himself.

While I was into riding with Ed Metzler, I had the opportunity to become better friends with one of his neighbors, Keith Card, who was already a friend of ours and was a leading breeder of thoroughbred horses in Southern California. We used to go to the races to watch Keith’s horses compete. One of the tracks we visited was Santa Anita where Keith had an “owner’s box”.

The movie Seabiscuit was filmed at that famous track, and watching the movie reminded me of one great day that Keith, Ed, me, and some other guys had there. Keith had four horses running that day: two at Bay Meadows, up north, and two at Santa Anita. We all pooled some bucks to bet on the first race at Bay Meadows: Keith’s horse won. We took our winnings and put it on the next race, at Santa Anita: Keith’s horse won. The “let it ride” principle was successful again in the third race, at Bay Meadows. So, we shoved all the dough into the pot for the feature race at Santa Anita, which Keith’s horse “California Flag” won. Yippee, what a day!

Later that year, California Flag, who was the grandson of Triple Crown winner “Seattle Slew”, won the Breeder’s Cup mile at Churchill Downs in Kentucky. It was a career-defining win for Keith Card, as the Breeder’s Cup is the pinnacle of horse racing.

Louie and I enjoyed each other for about five years. Then, the Rancho California Caballeros riding club agenda changed (to fewer competitions) and I got bored. I shifted my attention to my grandson Craig and got involved with golf again.

Louie’s new owners had a large spread next to the Ronald Reagan ranch near Santa Barbara and, as Louie was only about 10 years old when we parted, he could look forward to at least 20 years of happiness in sumptuous horse country. What a lucky bastard!

I miss Louie; he and I were buddies and our shared experience together with Ed Metzler and the equestrian community was one of the highlights of my life.