'Take a cup of kindness yet..'

1. Ah, the end is almost near old friends. Year of the Horse is barreling down the stretch towards the finish line, and the Ram (some say Sheep, or Goat) is about to hurdle into 2015. Two friends of mine retired this year. One divorced. Another slipped through Germany on a barge. Arthroscopic surgeries. Walking canes. Unabashed Tesla coveting. Market up. Market down. Protests. Drought.

2. Hashtag and Emoji. Vocabulary phenoms of the year.

3. Noteworthy reads. 'The Boys in the Boat,' by Daniel James Brown. 'Unbroken,' by Laura Hillenbrand. 'The Price of Salt sometimes published under 'Carol,' by Patricia Highsmith. 'The Burning Room,' by Michael Connelly. 'American Sniper,' by Chris Kyle. All publications by Gillian Flynn. 'Prune,' by the great chef, Gabrielle Hamilton. 'Wildlife' by Richard Ford. 'L.A.Son' by the maverick chef, Roy Choi. '1Q84' by Haruki Murakami. Ok, I confess, I haven't finished the Murakami book, but one does recognize greatness.

4. Films that tripped the light fantastic. Boyhood. Only Lovers Left Alive. Birdman. Guardians of the Galaxy (I kid you not). Snowpiercer. Wild. The Grand Budapest Hotel. Fincher's Gone Girl. A shaky nod to Interstellar. And sight unseen, J.C. Chandor's, A Most Violent Year, with Jessica Chastain.

5. The Telly. Where we learn it all, baby. True Detective in a romp. Homeland, resurrected. Transparent, holy S.  Outlander, who knew? Banshee: it is what it is. Orphan Black. More group bopping, please. Game of Thrones because it's still the shizz. And The Good Wife. The series with the worse title on the face of the planet that keeps on giving.

6. On the clock: White House gender change in 2016.

Be safe out there. Black eyed peas on January 1st.

"If the Fates allow..."

1. A line from one of the greatest Christmas lyrics ever penned and which always elicits a tear from me. The great Judy Garland sings the definite version of 'Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,' in the 1944 film, Meet me in St. Louis, directed by Vincente Minnelli. The music was composed by Hugh Martin, and the lyrics by Ralph Blane.

2. The rains returned with a vengeance, and walloped California with a left, right and an upper cut. On the ropes, the population, dumb grateful smiles plastered across their drought stricken faces, floundered under the deluge. Wet roadways were challenging. Underpasses flooded. Trees toppled.
Power cut out just as season finales, and the NFL lurched towards the finish line.Wtf? Don't be messing with 'The Walkers' or 'SONS!' Jesus H. After 2 weeks, I was done. Whine. Whine. Whine. I wanted sunshine, but more than that, I wanted the fucking hordes of ants looking for dry land (ho) to quit invading my personal space and ride out on the horse they rode in on.

3. The New York Yankees. Yankee haters. Listen up: The baseball franchise through their foundation, Silver Shield, will pay for the education of the children of police officers killed in the line of duty in New York city. An emotionally moving gesture for Rafael Ramos' two young sons. A benevolent, generous act, by one of the great sports organizations.

4. The Interview. Personally, I was looking forward to this movie. True, everything we know, we learn from the industry...telly, or film. But, threat or no, the suits at Sony collectively fell on their swords and capitulated. Whaaat? The morale of this bizarre affair is that 'saving face' is a weird and strange bedfellow. In some cultures it is 'Everything.' Sleeping dragons awake. Old Asian proverb.

5. Have a Merry Holiday. Be safe if you're traveling.

Post script: Someone at Sony grew a pair. The Interview is being released selectively at various theaters across the country on Christmas day. Free speech, baby. Own it.

Resurrection

1. Last month, Sleater-Kinney pulled a Lazarus; tossed their gear back into the building and embraced the journey once again. Hailed by critic Greil Marcus as the best rock band of 2001, the members have dusted off the 8 year collective hiatus webs, strapped on their er, instruments, and punked us all. The announcement of a new album release (why those naughty women) and a tour left jaws thudding across the continent. Euphoria in candy land, yeah baby, with one speed bump: no road love for
Cali. A slight? An omission?  First a tease, and then a squeeze but not the
goods? Say it ain't so. True, you can't please all the people all the time...but come on down to the land of golden sunshine, and honey, where the women are strong, and the men are pretty. We'll rock until dawn.

2. People ask me all the time: how do I spend my days? Why, any way I please. Sometimes I don't even know what day it is. Note to self, that is one of the 'dementia' questions. There's so much to see. I travel vicariously with Anthony Bourdain. And eschew vaccinations. Leave those to the grazing beeves. Everything I presently learn is on the telly. Portlandia is filmed in 'vegan city.' Clare Danes needs to eat more. Drones can tag hostiles with red triangles from the air. Harry Bosch is back. Hard cover with an unsettling ending. Ops, did I spoil it for you? I walk a lot. And go to the gym. Another note to self, I'm injury prone. My goal is a simple one. To never have a backlog of New Yorkers. I'm learning Italian via an app. It doesn't help that it's cutting into my reading time.

3. Ah, the rain. Finally some love from the weather gods. So many people out and about today taking walks without umbrellas!! We need this. The Central Valley needs this. Some more,  please.

4. I ate my first (ever) pretzel roll the other day. With a piece of mustard slathered turkey curled into it. The absolute shizzle. Sometimes simple is good enough.

5. The Big game. Go Bears!!!

'You ask whyyyyy? We don't give a f...'

Instead of sheep, those lyrics by Boss leap frogged through my somnambulant glazed condition all night. Whyyyyyy? Ray Rice, baby. And if you have been on another planet segue to TMZ and watch the brutal Rice video. The assault actually begins by the pillar in the hallway of the casino where Rice is waiting for Janay Palmer; you see Rice spit on her as she walks by him; she in turn spins around and slaps him with the back of her hand. They step into the elevator. The doors close. And Rice punches Palmer twice in the face, knocking her out cold. The violence is so shocking that a nation who hero worships on Sunday across the ballparks of America, collectively grabbed their devices and went all HAM yesterday. A viral shit storm hit the airwaves. On this day, and in this age, you might run, mofo, but you can't hide.

Some things I learned yesterday: 1. That TMZ a national broadcasting news rag is more powerful than the National Football League because evidently TMZ knew how or whose palms to grease for a copy of the casino elevator video feed. 2. That the aforementioned NFL could have procured a copy of that tape from Rice's attorney by asking. 3. By not digging deeper in their investigations, the NFL and the Ravens chose to believe and pander to the soft story the star athlete was selling. 4. That before the TMZ video yesterday, there were some who thought 'she' provoked 'him.' JesusH.

Roger Goodell, the NFL commissioner. The only thing he will be remembered for is 'Elevatorgate.'

Head coach, John Harbaugh's presser. Pathetic. Left on an island by Steve Bisciotti, the owner, and Ozzie Newsome the GM, Harbaugh looked uncomfortable and fell flat on his face trying to put a spin on a crime that has no spin. WTF?

Head coach, Jim Harbaugh, the brother of John, preached zero tolerance to his team, the SF 49ers, regarding domestic violence. Defensive lineman Ray McDonald was arrested, for allegedly hitting his pregnant fiance. The 49ers chose not to suspend McDonald but to play him because they were 'down' a couple of lineman. Huh?

If you talk it, walk it. Zero tolerance takes stones, my friends. Evidently, in the NFL no one has grown a serious pair yet.

Eat a....

1. Fickle. I bet that's the first word that crossed through your mind.
Thought I blew you off for the summer? Well as you could see from the previous post, things did derail me. But, tempus fugit. Remember that Carly Simon song from the 70's??? The one which had us all, on pipe filled Saturday nights, speculating as to whom the song was about? The one with the spectacular lyrics 'there were clouds in my coffee?' Well, I went to Saratoga Springs too and my horse (s) won; but it also was James Fenimore Cooper country, and absolutely lovely. Verdant. Pastoral. Sultry. Over tea one morning, I asked if it snowed in Upstate during the winter, and the denizens rolled their eyes and laughed. The restaurants were old school. Many of them flourishing under 2nd or 3rd generation ownership. It was refreshing for a change not to be presented with a fussy California menu. There wasn't a meal I met that I didn't like. Everyone was kind and informative. The frozen custard, step aside gelato, outstanding. The lakes placid and very forgiving.

2. The O'Henry peach. The season is short, my friends. Grown in and about the Central Valley, the crop is bountiful this year. From a distance in the
produce section blushing hills of ripening flesh made for good eating. Peach pie. Peach cobbler. And peach ice cream. Come to mama...

3. The Kurds have deployed all female military units to bolster the front lines in Iraq...Peshmerga women have been fighting in the field since the late 1990's, and have earned a reputation for their fierceness and bravery. Ponder this: the Jihadists don't like facing women in combat, because if killed by a woman they believe they will not go to heaven.

4. The A's. I leave Cali and they're in first place. I return, and they're sucking donks.

5. Joan Rivers. The red carpet will never be the same.

'Coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in...'

Well, I bet you thought I walked out the door for that loaf of bread and disappeared into the night sky like ol' Jack Bauer. Never to be heard of again. But, you know how that goes. Sequels fly out of monkey's whatevers... Not that anyone's been asking but while you all were out enjoying camping, hiking, or 6 flags festivities, a crappy summer cold morphed it's way into my lungs and laid me low for weeks. And just as I flipped the switch on that bad boy, the dormant, snoozing, (60 years and counting) chicken pox virus spewed out a shingles jail break on my upper bicep. The only 'good' thing was that it missed my tattoos. The nerve pain was a mofo. Am I whining? Well, uh, yes. Luck of the draw? Why, yes. Vaccination? Uh, yeah.

1. BS. (Before shingles). Jim Jarmusch. His latest film, 'Only Lovers left
Alive.' Brilliant. Straight to cult classic. Tilda. Jim Hiddleston, and John Hurt who was fabulous as Marlowe. The soundtrack has some great chops. Detroit. Tangier. A stylized, moody, witty script filled with scintillating dialogue, Jarmusch glitter, whizzing across the celluloid and tickling the synapses.

2. PS. (Post shingles). Snowpiercer. Directed and written by Bong Joon
Ho. A huge box office hit in South Korea, the current buzz of the summer movies. In an off year for the industry, it's refreshing to see a film that in the end, pricks your cerebral cortex. Tilda again. In a supporting role. Chris Evans who surprises. One more time with the great John Hurt.

3. Migration of the children. El Presidente sent a plane full back to Honduras a couple of days ago. It is the first deportation of the waves of undocumented children and babes in arms. The thousands of children streaming over the border, leaving dangerous countries, have tossed gasoline onto an already fiery debate. On one side, humanitarians. On the other, citizens who favor deportation. Protests abound in border states. Uh, what was that song, Karen Carpenter sang? Huh. 'Bless the beasts and the children.' Drop a quarter in the juke.

'The nature of your game..'

But, we do know the name, and it reared it's head twice this week...

1. After stepping into the pile, and back tracking like the dog it is, Sacred Heart Cathedral blinked, and altered their senior portrait policy which had previously been: boys in tux, girls in off the shoulder drape (really? so, 1950's); this when Jessica Urbina wore a tuxedo to the shoot and evidently Rorschached SHC administration to pull the plug, excising her portrait from the yearbook. Hard to believe in a city like San Francisco famous for it's flamboyance, tolerance, and yes, cross dressers, that an action steeped in conservative bullcrap would flow from one of the more prominent schools in the Bay Area. Outraged students went all 'ham' and wore ties in support of Jessica; tweeter accounts blasted the decision, the story going viral. And we all know when news goes viral, shit happens. Today, SHC, apologized to the Urbina family, admitted the policy was wrong, and will paste Jessica's picture in the yearbook. Paste. Uh, the entire yearbook should be sent back to press and printed again.

2. Jill Abramson, she of the Gothic Times T tattoo on her back,  the first woman appointed as executive editor of the NY Times got the sack last week in a stunning and shocking move by the Times. Ms Abramson, a feisty woman who was not afraid to spar with colleagues, was removed from her position over 'an issue with management in the newsroom.' Ms Abramson was 'allegedly upset over financial disparity compared to past, male Times executives.' Huh. This is only over when the fat lady sings. And you bet that after this 'dust up' sometime in the future, Ms Abramson, boys, will have the last word .