NEXTLEAV

Shore Dorsey!

2011-11-06T19:49:00.000-08:00

Satch Plays Fats, and Ella Sings Gershwin...Dad's '45's...

2011-11-06T19:39:00.000-08:00

Takin' the A Train with Duke! Dad's Records...

2011-11-06T19:34:00.000-08:00

GIA and OPIE, From 2 Different Worlds...

2011-10-16T02:54:00.000-07:00

I'm planning to write the adventures of Opie and Gia soon. It's about two people from very different backgrounds, trying to get along...I see it as a sitcom, but it could also be a drama, if Gia has her way. It will entertain me, if not you...

1980: PERMANENT WAVES...

2011-10-01T21:10:00.000-07:00

Note: All of these stories are fiction. Don't believe any of it...

In 1980, I ate 2-10 hits of acid or mescaline every weekend, and some weekdays, as well. I worked in the mailroom of an insurance company on Park Ave. and 33rd St. I was 18, and I liked it! These are my stories from that year...

Mother's Day, 2011

2011-05-08T17:32:00.000-07:00

MISS YOU, MOM.

Spider Man Throws Arachne Under The Bus...Will It Reverse The Curse?

2011-03-27T21:10:00.000-07:00

Not to make light of injury, but one might think that this play is cursed by some evil Spider-Goddess. This mess has gone on too long already, and the latest (4th? -I've lost count) postponement of it's official opening was announced before this latest (4th? -I've lost count) injury on the set, during "previews."

By MARK KENNEDY AP Drama Writer/With MyFoxNY.com Staff Reports

NEW YORK - Is this the curse of the Spider-Woman? T.V. Carpio stepped in to replace another actress injured in Broadway's troubled "Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark." She has now herself been sidelined after an accident.

Producers of the $65 million musical said Tuesday that Carpio was hurt last week during an onstage battle scene. She plays an evil spider woman called Arachne and will be out of the show for the next two weeks.

It's worth noting that the latest rework of the play supposedly gets rid of the Arachne character altogether. The character was used as a narrator, and was a mouthpiece for the (now replaced) director Julie Taymoor, saying such lines as "I am the only true artist here." Sheesh! Good riddance!

Husk Reunion Party Part II

2011-03-01T00:40:00.000-08:00

Another great image from "Huskapalooza!"

"Husk" Reunion Party!

2011-03-01T00:20:00.000-08:00

Looking forward to seeing more old friends at the next one!

Living In The Past: 1/2 Of The Class Of 1979

2011-01-08T20:46:00.000-08:00

I lifted this from a friend's FB page, because I haven't seen it for so long. That's me, fourth from the left in the front row. Most of my friends congregated in the back, but I knew this would be my only shot in the yearbook, so I stayed in the front.

As you can see, it's only half of what was a two-page spread in the yearbook. My apologies to the half of my classmates who I didn't get to show.

SweetLeaf and LEAVBERT: ADAM LAMBERT show at the St. Georges Theater!

2010-08-27T01:34:00.000-07:00

It was a beautiful old theater, and we had a wonderful time! One of the girls in the row behind us was nice enough to take our picture. Anna wanted me to wear a tophat, similar to Adam's, and a leather vest with 2 foot long fringes! I suspect that she collaborated with her "fasionista" daughter to have these items "available" for me to wear...

SweetLeaf Agrees: Sir Monte Rocks!

2010-08-27T01:13:00.000-07:00

We had such a great time at the Adam Lambert concert on Staten Island! I took this pic of Anna (SweetLeaf) with Monte Pittman, Adam's Musical Director, and Lead Guitarist! Yo, this guy ROCKS! I got to shake his hand, and tell him that, after taking the pic! COOL!

LEAVBERT! Partying in Staten Island!

2010-08-27T00:51:00.000-07:00

Partying at the Adam Lambert concert!

RIP ANDY KESSLER: MAKING UP ON CHRISTMAS DAY!

2010-08-08T03:25:00.000-07:00

As a kid, I had all kinds of "falling outs" with my two best friends, as they did between the two of them, with me siding with one or the other. This photo is of one excellent Christmas day, where a year-long grudge was buried. I had been the one on the outside, with Andy and Starsky both shunning me, for the most part. Our mothers helped set this up, and it was all good!

Starsky recently sent me this photo, and it's almost a year since Andy died of a wasp sting, so I am posting this as a tribute to my friend. I miss you, Andy, and will always remember you!

From Coney Island to Central Park! Starsky & Hutch, Havin' Fun!

2010-08-08T02:46:00.000-07:00

Starsky and Hutch, at Coney Island and Central Park! The whole city was our beat, and we had fun all over it!

WERE WE COMIC BOOK FANS, OR LITTLE MONSTERS?

2010-08-08T01:51:00.000-07:00

Riding the D train back from Coney Island, and after visiting the comic book store on 57th, near Columbus Circle! This was "fun in NYC" in the '70's! I drew both of our shirts, and I had authentic Korean War era patches on my jacket, from my Uncle Bill Dignes!

RULE AND REVOLUTION: Where Are We Now?

2010-07-20T01:32:00.000-07:00

I caught the last hour of Rush today, and listened to him talk about this article from The American Spectator. It's worth sharing, though I haven't finished reading it yet.

America's Ruling Class -- And the Perils of Revolution, by Angelo M. Codevilla

ADAM LAMBERT ROCKED NASHVILLE!

2010-07-12T01:08:00.000-07:00

So, Adam Lambert got GREAT reviews after playing Nashville! Randy Travis must be eating his words! Here's a selection of the reviews:

USA TODAY

Tune In Music City

CMT.com

Indyposted

Softpedia

Adam played in the Ryman Auditorium, where Johnny Cash has played, and which also currently hosts the Grand Ole Opry, while it's original home undergoes restoration. As the reviews show, he blew the roof off of the place! I'll post the videos soon, but you can find them at Adamofficial, if you look hard enough!

The Night I Kept Billy Preston From My Friend's Girl: A "Main St. Cafe Story"

2010-01-05T03:44:00.000-08:00

It was a big night, at The Main St. Cafe. Billy Preston was playing, and we were hoping for a "sold out" show. Unfortunately, we didn't have the money to advertise the show in Newsday, when they solicited us. So, instead of a glowing write-up about the upcoming show, they published a story titled "Billy Preston's Back-Let Him Be" on page 92. It was five paragraphs, or so, about his career, highlighting his pending "child-molestation" charges in California. The last paragraph said "he's playing at The Main St. Cafe this week." Thanks, Newsday.

I was already working as a bartender at Clarke's in Freeport by this time, and going to "my club" after my day shift, a few days a week. I have to mention this, because Bernie, a 92 year-old regular customer of mine there, is the one who showed me the article, a few days before the show. He was impressed that I had such a big star playing at my club. I told him that I was a big fan of Preston's work, almost all of my life, and was looking forward to seeing him in person. I have to note Bernie's class, knowledge, and wisdom. Knowing people like him was one of the biggest rewards of working at Clarke's.

The "big night" turned out to be "not so big," for the business, but about fifty to seventy-five people got to see an amazing show. He played a "Beatles tribute" set, and had the whole crowd singing along. He played my favorite two instrumental songs, "Space Race" and "Outta Space," as well as his better-known hits "Will It Go Round?" and "Nothin' From Nothin'" Because it was such a small turnout, I got to watch most of the show. It was awesome!

He was more reclusive than most of the talent we booked, and went right back to his bus, after the show. Neither John (my partner in the club) nor I got to take a photo with him, as we did with Dave Mason and Rick Derringer. We sent him a plate of hot wings, and he signed a B&W publicity photo for us (which I hope John still has, because I don't). Something funny happened around that time.

While we were trying to get into Preston's bus for a pic, he saw my friend's girlfriend, who I'll call "D," with us. D was decked out in a sexy bright red dress, and was totally HOT! Her boyfriend couldn't be there, and he asked me to "keep an eye on her," which I was glad to do (lol). Mr. Preston let D onto the bus, but she said "only if Chris can come with me!" So they let me on the bus, and I got to meet him. He said "good wings," and I said "blah blah blah, I'm a fan since I was blah blah..." Then his manager came along and said I have to leave the bus, and I graciously complied.

D started to follow me off the bus, but someone asked her to stay. She said "Chris, what should I do?" At this point, we went back and forth, with me outside the bus, not even able to see her. She decided to come with me back into the club. Less than five minutes later, Preston's manager showed up at our table, inviting D back to the "hotel" with Mr. Preston. She was clearly tempted, and I knew it. After letting her string this guy along for a few minutes, I said "D, let's get out of here. Let me take you somewhere." She didn't even blink an eye; she just got up, and left with me.

I took her to a nearby little local bar, owned by a former bartender from Clarke's, coincidentally. We told everyone how great the show was, and where Billy Preston was staying, if they wanted to meet him (My club booked his hotel). I don't know if any of those fans actually went there, but we had a laugh about the whole situation! I dutifully filled my friend in, that his GF was "a good girl" against amazing odds, at least that night.

This all happened in '92, and I've long been out of touch with both of them, but I know they didn't stay together. Billy Preston has passed away, as has my old customer Bernie, since then. That's why I'm collecting the Main Street Stories, as best as I can. This is a funny look at the ups and downs of life in those years, from my perspective. There's a lot to tell, and I hope to get input from friends I am still in touch with to help balance it (John, among others). I already have a photo gallery from The Main St. Cafe on Gather, linked here. Yeah, that's "D," in the "flagged" photo. As I said, there are many stories to tell, from those days. There's sad posts, too.

Stay tuned for more "MAIN STREET STORIES," in addition to my TALES FROM THE VENDOME, LEAV IN THE USMC, FREEPORT, and 1980:PERMANENT WAVES chapters. Most of these only have one post thus far, so I'll try to churn out at least one "old story" a week, this year. This one was fun and easy, but alot of them are a little scarier. I'm hoping the stories are an enjoyable read, even if they make you cringe! LOL! Here's to the new year!

Adam Lambert Loves His Fans!

2009-12-25T03:52:00.000-08:00

Adam totally looks like Elvis, in this photo by Jasmine!

Adam went out of his way to greet all of the fans that showed up at CBS Early Morning show, after planning for the ABC show for weeks. He's a class act, in my book.

LEAV in the USMC: My Favorite "Gunny"

2009-10-24T03:45:00.000-07:00

In the USMC, I fixed FM radios. I was an intermediate ("I") level avionics technician, meaning I fixed the electronics, after the "O" level techs took it out of the aircraft. I forget whether "O" stood for organizational, or operational level, but hey, it was 25 years ago! I worked in a "shop" from 4:30PM-Midnight, for most of my years there. During this time, I had several supervisors, but one stood head an shoulders above the rest.

"Gunny" (Gunnery Seargent) Keenan, as I'll call him here, was the only boss that motivated me to feel good about an otherwise humdrum job. As a 22 yr. old, recently busted lance corporal, I had little to motivate me, in the last year of my "time," so this was no small feat.

A few things need to be explained: the radios we were working on were Vietnam-era, and this was '84. The warrantees on them expired in '70. We had drawers full of replacement circuit boards, and we did basic troubleshooting. The day-shift had a shop across the hall, that could repair the boards, but no-one was there on the night shift, so we wouldn't bother trying to "troubleshoot" the cicuit card. We'd just chuck 'em

One day Gunny Keenan took me aside, and we had a conversation. He brought out the parts manual, and we looked up the price of the circuit boards. They were over $3,000 each. They were very "old-style," with huge resistors, capacitors, inductors, and transistors, which were easy to remove with a soldering iron. I only had some basic classes in this, and wasn't "certified" to do it. I had cross-trained in the micro-comp shop, so I knew how to do it. I also knew that these circuit cards had about $15 worth of electronics on them, that one could buy at Radio Shack.

He gave me my first lecture on civic responsibility in the bureaucracy, explaining that our tax dollars were paying for every one of these parts, and it would be helpful to everyone, myself included, if I could pitch in to try replacing fewer circuit boards. He said "Leavitt, could I ask you to try fixing some of these circuit boards on the night shift, instead of throwing them at each other?"

I replied "But I'm not certified." He said, "skip the paperwork. I'll give you the keys to the mini-comp shop, if you need to use it." Gunny Keenan had appealed to me in a very personal way. As an established "rule breaker," I loved the idea of doing something good, and still breaking rules and regulations. He "got" me, in a way that was rare in my military experience.

He also used me as a motivational tool for others. When he gave his Friday informal "speech" to the troops one week, he singled me out. He said when he was a young enlisted man, he used to carry a stone around, just to get himself noticed. Some thought he was crazy, but since he was good at his job, it just got him noticed by the senior officers in his command. He then compared himself to me, saying "everyone from the Colonel on down knows when Leavitt takes a piss!"

I lost my Corporal stripes before I got a chance to put them on, because of a positive urinalysis. I had recently returned from the Naval Drug Rehab Center at Miramar Air Base, where "Top Gun" was filmed, and was on six months of weekly urinalysis surveillance when he gave that speech. Everyone laughed at that line, but I appreciated it as a secret acknowledgement of the resposibility he had given me. He gave me good pro-con ratings, as well.

One of the reasons that I would never re-enlist was what the USMC bureaucracy did to Gunny Keenan. The only manager that could get Chris Leavitt, among many others, to be more productive, and save taxpayer dollars, was getting screwed around because of his weight! Gunny Keenan was not very fat, but he was getting "by-the-booked" by the system. His ability to perform his job had no bearing on this. It was strictly because he was literally five pounds over the "guideline" weight.

When I saw a man of his age (he was a little younger then than I am now), and of his position destroyed, by being "forced out" before he wants to leave the USMC, I knew that it was no life for me. If the good guys get screwed with too, what would change for me, after being a "screw-up?" I wasn't exactly ready to be a "good guy," anyway, at that point in my life. However, I can honestly say Gunny Keenan made a lasting impression, 25 years later.

Semper Fidelis

BUFFY LOVES DADDY: Kisses!

2009-10-02T03:26:00.000-07:00

In my first days with Buffy, she gave me a little scratch on my nose. I didn't freak out, and she's been giving me kisses there ever since. She loves the daddy-cat.

"Forts" and "Dirt Bombs:" From Central Park to Roosevelt Hospital!

2009-10-02T02:55:00.000-07:00

"Central park was my back yard," I often tell my suburban-raised friends. It wasn't, technically, but I spent so much of my youth there, that I looked at it as if it was my own property. This is a story of the "forts" and "dirt-bomb" fights that were waged at the Adventure Playground, just inside the wall at Central Park West and 69th street. The playground was on the "high ground," with the land sloping downward from it's fence to the black wall that was the park's boundary with the city. The vegetation was mostly forsythia, which blossomed yellow for a few weeks every spring, and some small trees.

We used to squeeze through one particular spot in the playground fence (or just walk around, for the bigger kids), and build forts in the ground. With the slope of the land, we could put up a couple of pieces of wood, and make a shelter. There was occasionally a NYC park worker on duty at the playground, who would chase off dope-sniffers and the like, that might be hanging out in our fort. Sometimes, we chased them out on our own (what screwball wouldn't run from a bunch of kids taunting him?).

Our favorite game was throwing "dirt bombs" at each other, with one group inside the playground fence, and the other in the "fort." The kids at the fence had different dirt than we had on the slope. They had topsoil, with sand tracked into it from the playground, which didn't make good dirt bombs. We had the clay layer exposed, and we just made our fort bigger as we dug into the clay to make bombs. For a time, the playground kids started throwing clumps of grass, with big "dirt bomb" bottoms, but there wasn't enough grass around the edge of the playground for that to last long.

This was an interesting tactical challenge we had set up. The kids in the playground had the higher ground, but had no protection other than the widely-spaced iron bars of the playground. Because we were throwing uphill, they had time to dodge our "bombs." They also were limited to making wet "sandballs," if the fountain was working. Most of the dry "topsoil" dirt bombs used to break up well before reaching us through the vegetation. I fought from the playground side a few times, but I was usually in the fort. Everyone wanted to be in the fort. I used to dream about camping out there overnight, but then I remembered the aforementioned "screwballs" would outnumber me, not vice versa. This was in the mid 1970's.

I suppose that it was inevitable, but one of the kids in the playground decided that he didn't want to bother making a dirt bomb. He just picked up a big rock, and hurled it towards the fort. I chose that moment to stand up, ready to throw a good, sturdy dirt bomb, and saw it coming, just before it smashed me in the eyebrow. I went down, and started screaming "he threw a f**king rock!"

It took a minute or two, but the other kids stopped the "fight," and came over to help me. We climbed over the black stone wall, to Central Park West, and hailed a cab, who took me to Roosevelt Hospital, free of charge. I was bleeding profusely, but with the support of a group of friends, everything turned out fine (I don't remember any adults, other than the cab driver, being involved). The fact is that I was a "frequent flyer" at Roosevelt Hospital, when it came to head wounds. I think that the doctor remembered me, and calmed me down by saying it was "routine" for me.

Eventually, I outgrew playing in "the fort," and I'm sure that the NYC Parks Department has erased any trace of it, but Adventure Playground is still there, just North of the Tavern on the Green restaurant. Did I ever mention that I broke into their attic, and used to steal the "night lights" from their premises, and used them as "heat lamps" in my bedroom? Well, that's another story! Stay tuned for more "Tales From the Vendome."

Andy Kessler Will Live On: Tales From the Vendome

2009-08-13T02:05:00.000-07:00

One of my oldest friends, Andy Kessler, died on Monday, Aug. 11th, 2009. I've mentioned Andy in a previous "Tales From The Vendome" post (link), using the pseudonym "Lenny." We weren't in touch, so I didn't want to use his real name, in a post with a blunt social/political message. After reading about his life after we lost touch, I don't think he'd mind me using his real name. The stories I have to tell about him date to before he started skateboarding, and cover a wide range of "life-lessons," from my point of view.

He was one of my two childhood "best friends," along with "Starsky," who shall remain anonymous. The three of us were like the little kid "urchins" of 71st to 73rd streets, from CPW to B'Way, in Manhattan. That was our "turf." Andy and Starsky lived on 71st, and I lived on 73rd, and Central Park was our back yard. We were crazy kids in the '70's, and that's what the "Vendome" stories are all about (link). I wish he had read them, and we had gotten in touch again...

Read about Andy's life, after we parted ways, at the following links (New York Magazine has the best photo):

NYC skateboard advocate Andy Kessler dies
United Press International
12 (UPI) -- Andy Kessler, one of the big names in the US skateboarding scene, died of an apparent wasp sting on Long Island this week, police said. ...
Legendary Skateboarder Andy Kessler Dies At 49NBC New York
SKATEBOARD KING DEAD AFTER STINGNew York Post
Legendary Skateboarder Andy Kessler Has DiedNew York Magazine

He was pretty intense, which brought out a similar quality from me. This explains our frequent fights, as well as our close friendship. My prayers and condolences go out to his sister Jodi, and all his family and friends who loved him. Andy was like family to me, and I loved him more often than I hated him. We would have great reunions, usually arranged by our mothers, after a few months of one of our "falling outs." The worst one for me was when Starsky and Andy "froze" me out of the group!

I saw Andy a few times in the early '80's, working at his father's florist shop in Penn. Station, after they closed their 72nd St. store. I wish I had stayed in touch with him, but after moving to LI, I joined the Marines, and got even further "out of touch" from old friends. I'm proud that he left his mark on New York City, but not surprised. He "channeled" his passion for skateboarding, and got results.

Good work, Andy. The world is diminished by your passing, my friend. I'll miss you.

Put Crack Dealers in Charge of Nuclear Negotiations

2009-07-23T04:39:00.000-07:00

"I'm not leavin' without the rocks. I paid for that sh*t."

TERRORIZING MOTHERS! Revenge of a 10-Year Old!

2009-05-17T23:05:00.001-07:00

A "Tale From the Vendome."

Our next door neighbor at the Vendome was Ross, a large guy. He had no furniture in his apartment, just a pillow, a record player, and a Bible. He knocked on our door at four AM, one day, saying "the Lord told me to kill you, Mrs. Leavitt." Dad was living in Freeport already, so this scared the crap out of us. Mom didn't call the cops; she just talked him down, and got him to go back into his apartment, without opening the door.

We were terrified, leaving home three hours later, but we got off to school, and mom got to work safely. While we were out, Ross crashed through our window, from our shared fire escape. I discovered it, when I got home from school, and called mom at work right away. The cops came, and soon Ross was caught, and sent to a psych ward. I was grateful he didn't kill our cat, Baggy.

While his case was working through the legal system, his mother came to visit us, to ask my mother to drop her complaint against Ross. She had an extraordinary fear of cats, so mom told Billy and me to take Baggy (our cat) into our room, while she was visiting. Well, we listened at the door, as she explained her son's troubles, and how it wasn't his fault that he threatened our mother's life.

She couldn't have had a more sympathetic audience than our mother, who was acutely aware of her own mental disorder, and sympathetic to fellow sufferers of messed-up psyches. Mom was on board with getting Ross treatment, instead of criminal incarceration. We were proud of mom, but we had a little "house justice" of our own in mind.

After seeing where this was going, Bill and I agreed that she should feel the terror that her son inflicted on our mother, so we let Baggy run out, into the living room. Baggy just stopped in the middle of the living room, looked at her, and she turned white, and screamed. We felt bad immediately, and mom yelled at us to get the cat out of the room, but we giggled as we grabbed the cat back into our room.

We were around 10 years old, and Ross was around 27, so I call our actions excusable, but not his. While I feel bad for his mom, I don't think it was as much as her son put our mother through. Another sad situation turned into a funny anecdote! The moral is "be responsible, and don't terrorize women (even if you think it's justified)!"

Also, be responsible to more than just your family. There came more than one time I had to commit my mother to a psych ward, years later. Part of me still holds Ross' mother culpable, for blinding herself to her son's sickness.

Happy Easter and Birthday, Anna!

2009-04-14T00:10:00.000-07:00

We celebrated Easter in Bensonhust, and came back to Lynbrook for Anna's birthday. Thanks to all our friends and family, for their good wishes! We love you!

FREEPORT WILD TIMES: VANDALIZING THE GROVE ST. THEATER

2009-04-13T23:17:00.000-07:00

When I moved in with my dad on Merrick Rd. in Freeport, I wasn't too happy. Most of the friends I had made there lived in South Freeport, and hung out in places like Randall Park. Of course, some of those guys came up North to visit us. This was one such occasion. There was an abandoned movie theater on Merrick Rd, one block East of our apt. One day, a bunch of us broke in to it. (I'm not naming my co-conspirators, but you know who you are)

We basically ran wild; one of us grabbed the huge silk screen, and ran across the stage, tearing off a four foot thick swath across it's entire width. Others went to the projection room, where we dismantled the two huge projectors. I kept one of the lenses for years, as well as a coaster-sized plastic "Coke" sign from the food counter. No alarm was sounded, and we spent the better part of a week vandalizing the building as an "after school activity," before the cops got hip to us.

I'm not sure if they caught anyone there, but I have a faint memory of it ending on a "blow up the spot" moment, with the police involved. It was really one of a string of places that we seemed to test the limits of civilized response to outrageous teenage behavior, chiefly vandalism. Today's kids aren't very different from us. They're just breaking a different set of rules, and dealing with different responses to their actions.

Interestingly enough, the old Grove St. theater is now a branch of the "Word of God" Ministry, and doing good work. They gave me food, back when I was a neighborhood crackhead, once. I get a laugh out of how we acted back in the day, though I can see why our parents thought we were so much more crazy than they were. We were, as were the kids from the '50's, the '90's, or whatever decade one wishes to cite.

There will always be kids who break the rules. Today's kids may never have the chance to raid an abandoned movie theater, but they'll find something else to vandalize. If not in the real world, they'll do it online. I'm not giving them any slack, I just hope we can keep up faster than the authorities did with us, back in the '70's. That's my story today, and I won't mind comments from my confederates (details are welcome, before I add more of them in a later version of this story), as well as general critiques of my post.

LEAV RETALIATES WITH A SNUGGLE ATTACK ON THE COSMIC BUFFYCAT!

2009-03-30T03:34:00.000-07:00

SHE'S DEFENSLESS!
Daddy loves Buffy!

Marvel's "Negative Zone" GITMO for Super Heroes...

2009-03-20T00:29:00.000-07:00

Here's an excerpt from a website called wikia, which seems to be connected to Marvel, though I can't be sure. What I like is the synopsis of the "Civil War" storyline, from Iron Man's (Tony Stark's) biography: (link)

Learning of the government's plans to instigate a Superhuman
Registration Act that would force costumed, super-powered individuals to
reveal their identities to the government and sign on as licensed agents, Iron
Man at first seeks to defeat the proposal, even going to such lengths as to hire
the Titanium Man to attack the hearing on the act as he testifies in order to manipulate opinion in his favor. However, at some point, Tony Stark's opinion of the Act changes, seeing it as a new means to achieve the goal that he had sought in forming the "Illuminati", and to tie the knots of friendship between humans and superheroes [citation needed]. He attempts to convince the other members of the clandestine group to support the new Act, stating that their input could prevent the Act from becoming too restrictive of superhuman activities, but all except Mister
Fantastic reject the idea of registration.

After the Stamford, Connecticut disaster turns public opinion against
superhumans and fast-tracks the Act into law, Stark comes out publicly in
support of the Act, but the new law splits the hero community in two. All of
Stark's planning and manipulation comes to fruition as Stark then becomes the
representative and leader of the pro-registration side, placed in opposition to
the anti-registration advocates. In his first major public action as a supporter
of registration, Stark again unmasked as Iron Man.

Prior to the events of Civil War, Stark assisted fellow Avenger Spider-Man
and his family. Peter Parker came to regard Stark as a mentor, became his
assistant, and accepted a new technologically-enhanced costume from him [citation needed]. Stark also convinced Spider-Man to unmask and go public with his identity as well. However, Peter's feelings of being manipulated and unease about the rightness of Stark's cause grew until Stark revealed a prison for superhumans he and Mister Fantastic had built in the Negative Zone. When Spider-Man attempted to escape from Stark Tower, along with his family, in order to join the Resistance, he attacked Stark, who had confronted him. However, due to Spider-Man's override of the suit given to him by Stark and some unexpected intervention by the Punisher, the web-slinger managed to escape with his family and was now considered a traitor by Stark and the Pro-Registration side.

As a lapsed fan, this site is a treasure trove. To the comic companies, it is a great marketing tool. It allows older fans to read synopses of what has happened to these characters over the years, though it's not always presented in the most direct way. I see it as a tool to help me decide which collections to buy, in TPB format.

I have to get all of the "Civil War" books. This "negative zone" prison smacks of Gitmo, and I'm sure that the books are full of "anti-Bush" propaganda. That's just a guess, from reading the synopsis, but I am an old comic fan. I remember the X-Factor villians called "the Right." They were a bunch of smiley-faced robots, back in the Reagan era.

Predictable as the politics may be, I still love the characters, and know that these changes are usually not permanent. I still enjoy reading comics, when I can afford them. Heck, I even enjoy reading the synopsized storylines on this Wikia website, which means it's got potential. Check it out!

MY LAST ST. PAT'S DAY WITH MOM AND UNCLE BILL

2009-03-17T05:36:00.000-07:00

Back in the late '80's, I went to O'Hurley's bar, across from Rockerfeller Center, on St. Patrick's Day. I had to meet my mom, and her brother, my Uncle Bill. This was a bad idea from the get-go: mom and I were a volatile combination at that time, and Uncle Bill couldn't make things go any more smoothly. Mom ended up defending me, after I admitted that I smoked pot to Bill...we drank alot, and argued some more.

After Uncle Bill left, and mom was away from the bar, some drunk said to me "what, have you got a thing for old ladies?" Oh, yeah, he was Irish, and he got my Irish up, for a moment. Then the Norwegian in me took over, and I laughed in his face, saying "that's my mother, asshole!" He mumbled an apology under his breath, and left the bar when mom came back.

Unfortunately, I ended up "losing track" of mom that night. She had a way of "going off" on her own, which scared those of us who cared about her. She ended up being OK, but I spent the late hours of St. Pat's day "stewed," running around midtown looking for my "stewed" mother. Her side of the family was typically dysfunctional, but I have to accept that part of me. I count this as one of the "good times," because it's the last time I saw Uncle Bill. We had fun, but I've been wary of "St. Pat's Day" ever since...

It's become a holiday similar to New Year's Eve, as in "amateur hour." Everybody has to show how "Irish" they can be, with "Irish" translating to "stupid." Look, I've been more of a "party animal" than most of my friends, but I found the place to draw the line. Further, I'm good with "busting chops" on today's partiers, whatever holiday they excuse it with. If they act like asses, let 'em get the boot.

'80's USMC: "Zippy the Pinhead" Shirt!

2009-02-22T01:53:00.000-08:00

This is a poor quality photo, but that ZIPPY t-shirt was one of my favorites! I got this in an email from an old friend, a few days ago. LOL!

WILL YOU WATCH THE WATCHMEN? :)

2009-02-09T02:13:00.001-08:00

There is no way that "The Watchmen" can be adapted into one movie. There just isn't enough time to tell this story so fast. If I were to synopsize it, I would say that it shows a somewhat realistic view of "super heroes," and what the public's reaction would be to them. Here are some of the characters from the story: The Owl, Rorschach, Ozymandius, Dr. Manhattan. There are many other characters, but these are the ones to watch, in the flick.I have a copy of the Trade Paperback from '87, but see alot of people carrying new copies around.

Maybe it'll get "good reviews," whether it adapts the book well, or not. It's a mind-blowing story, even stripped down to the bones as it will have to be. I'm sure I will enjoy it, regardless of what's left out. The fun part is "adding the details" after the movie comes out, and summing up the "message" that the movie promotes, compared to the one from the book. I wonder how faithful Hollywood will be to Alan Moore's vision.

SPOILER ALERT! Ozymandius is a terrorist. Keep your "smiley face" pins on!

I will watch The Watchmen, with a critical eye. I'll try not to get overwhelmed by the awesome effects, but I can't promise anything! It has "big shoes" to fill, is all I can say.

Anuram Dikshit Smiles While Paying $300 Million Fine: 3 Stories from Wednesday's NY Post

2008-12-18T04:03:00.000-08:00

Anuram Dikshit is not "feeing the pinch" of the global recession, according to these stories from Wednesday's NY Post:

Web-poker programmer folds on $300M hand

A billionaire computer expert sported a bizarre grin as he pleaded guilty yesterday to running an illegal online gambling parlor - and agreed to forfeit $300 million he raked in from American bettors.

Maybe he was pleased with the Manhattan federal judge's unusual decision to postpone his sentencing for two years based on his cooperation.

The move allows Indian computer whiz Anurag Dikshit - who's No. 743 on this year's Forbes' billionaires list - to return to his home in Gibraltar, free on $50 million bond.

Dikshit told Judge Jed Rakoff he developed software and directed operations for Gibraltar-based PartyGaming PLC between 1998 and 2006.

Are they sure the judge's name wasn't "Red Jakoff," not Jed Rakoff? Maybe that's what Mr. Dikshit was smiling about. The second article, eight pages later, is titled "Web Big Craps Out," and the Business Brief item, three pages later (second in the linked page) is titled "In Deep." Now, I know many liberals hate the NY Post, and would be quick to call these titles racist slurs against Indians, by making innuendoes about the spelling of Mr. Dikshit's last name.

Let's balance that against liberals' hatred for the "super-rich," who can smile as they pay a $300 million fine. Most Indians aren't that rich, either, and might appreciate the Post's poking fun at such a powerful person. Think of it this way: Indians have "arrived" on the world media scene, when liberal media bias against "the rich" overrides their kneejerk instinct to claim "victimhood" for an Indian billionaire. No backlash against the NY Post, yet.

Internet gambling isn't going away. Mr. Dikshit seems to be free to engage in foreign online gambling, as long as he "co-operates" with US authorities, for the next two years. Personally, it'll take me that long to stop laughing at every aspect of this story, starting with the name Anurag Dikshit. I mean, imagine if this guy was as ostentatious as Donald Trump. We'd have "Dikshit" resorts all over the world, and internet gambling promoted in all of them, outside of the US.

I can't imagine what it's like to be Anurag Dikshit, or to be fined $300 million in the middle of a global recession. He probably has a stockpile of "cheap dollars" from the summer of '08, so the impact on his finances is minimized. He's still small potatoes, compared to Brnie Madoff's (pronounced "MADE-OFF") $50 billion ponzi scheme, but that's a whole different story.

I'm still counting my change, and enduring the daily struggles of life. I hope I can be forgiven for laughing at Mr. Dikshit's name, but I don't hate him. My only real problem with him is that he violated US law, and his business is conducive to unlawful behavior in our country. If you want to legalize internet gambling, then pay off some US pols! Follow the George Soros/Rod Blagojevich model, Mr. Dikshit! You'll fit in anywhere, especially in this country...

NY "TITANS" BEAT UNDEFEATED TENNESSEE; GIANTS BEAT CARDS WITH WIND AND FIRE

2008-11-24T02:37:00.000-08:00

This is an even more exciting week for a NY football fan than last week was. First, the Jets stepped up another level, beating the (previously) undefeated Tenessee Titans in Nashville by a whopping 34-13. I missed the game, but the reporting on it has the Jets actually dominating the Titans. The Jets should have worn their "throwback" NY TITANS uniforms! That makes consecutive victories over Buffalo, New England, and now the only undefeated team in the NFL. "Little brother," as I teasingly label the Jets, might have a shot at fighting "Big brother," better known as the NY FOOTBALL GIANTS, in the next Superbowl.

OK, that's still a fantasy, but it's the closest NY'ers have gotten to it in the past few years. Last year, I doubted the Giants' ability to go all the way, and still regret it. If I were a Jets fan, I would see this year as "destiny," and predict the same for the Jets. As a Giants fan, I hope that we get the chance to stomp them on a national stage. It would be a great Superbowl matchup, whichever team wins.

The Giants deserve a second trip to the Superbowl, and seem determined to get back. Three of our worst rivals are lined up to "take a shot" at us, in the coming weeks, but I'm confident that the Giants can win these three games. We're playing at Washington, hosting Philadelphia, then at Dallas. Right now, the Giants have to concentrate on beating the Washington Redskins on Sunday. The Giants didn't distinguish themselves in last Sunday's victory over the Phoenix Cardinals. If the Giants want to compete in the playoffs, they better stop making mistakes. I'm sure this is what Coach Coughlin will be focusing on, over the next three games.

There were things worth praise in the Giants' victory in Arizona. The running game, while much reduced by the absence of Brandon Jacobs, was still potent, as was the passing game without Plaxico Buress. It looks more and more like this Giant team is more than the sum of it's parts, even when some parts don't function at "peak" levels. That's when you have to credit the coaching, and that goes for the Jets, as well.

Here's the "kicker": The Jets victory, combined with the Giants' win makes the Giants tied with the Tenesee Titans for the best record in the NFL. "Thanks, lil' bro!" Here's another tidbit: the Jets and Giants are the only teams who have won their last FIVE games in a row! How do you define a "hot streak"? Can you spell "M-A-N-G-E-N-I-U-S?

This is one exciting football season for a NY football fan! GO GIANTS, AND J-E-T-S!

NY FOOTBALL: GIANTS DOMINATE; JETS "STEPPING UP"

2008-11-16T23:22:00.000-08:00

It's been an exciting week for a NY football fan. The Jets faced the biggest challenge of their season, trying to avenge the hometown loss to the Patriots in week two. "Avenge" may be too strong a word, but they came away with a win, in overtime. After beating the Buffalo Bills in Buffalo last Sunday, this was a huge step toward being a real contender in the overall NFL. Eric Mangini is young, but he's "earning his stripes" right now, as a head coach. Bret Favre has earned his stripes, as a guaranteed Hall of Fame quarterback, and willingly works under a coach that's younger than he is. These are a few of the things that make me like the Jets this year.

They have the foundation of a "great" team, and will develop into one, given time. They are leading their division, after beating two of their toughest rivals on hostile turf. The Jets are also known for collapsing at the end of the season, which is a worry for every team, but an all-tooconstant for Jets fans, in the past. Of course, last year they only won 3 games, so all expecations of a "late season crash" were moot. This year, I'm proud that the Jets have a record worth worrying about!

If you didn't notice, the Jets are my SECOND favorite football team. I was born in Manhattan, and raised a NY GIANTS fan! My mother had a friend at their office in the '70's, and she gave us a football signed by the whole team, including Ron Johnson and Fran Tarkenton. The Giants stunk back then, but they were my team. I remember a news cartoon from the '70's, when our enemy Dallas was dominant, that showed a guy in a Giants uniform saying "Who cares who shot JR? I killed Dallas," when we beat them one year.

All reminiscing aside, the Giants have developed into the most powerful team in the NFL, perhaps more dominant than they were under Parcells. Head Coach Tom Coughlin has created an amazing chemistry in his team, with signifigant roster changes. Since Coughlin became head coach, the team has lost Tiki Barber, Michael Strahan, Osi Umenyiora, Jeremy Shockey, and several other great players. Somehow, they're still 9-1. This is a great team, which I'm proud to be a fan of.

Look at how the Giants "dismantled" the Ravens. It was a sloppy game by both teams, but the Giants attacked the core of the Ravens' game plan: they ran the ball down their throat. The Ravens had allowed an average of 65 rushing yards per game, before this. Giants running back Brandon Jacobs broke that yardage in the first half, and the Giants ran for over 200 yards in the game. That's going to signifigantly raise the Ravens' "rushing yards allowed per game" average.

It's week 11 of 17, and things are shaping up. The Giants face the toughest schedule of any team, for the remainder of the season. When I first saw the Giants' schedule, at the beginning of the year, I had fits of terror. All of the toughest teams are piled up in the final stretch of the season, and how many more players would we lose, by then? "Then" being "now," it doesn't seem to matter what players the Giants have on the field, as long as they're part of "the team." They struggle sometimes, but have shown a will to win that "dominates" most of the on-field battles.

I see the Jets as the Giants' "little brother," much as I see the Mets as the same to the Yankees. The Jets play against the only undefeated team in the NFL, the Tennissee (sp?) Titans, next week. I wish the Giants were playing them, but it would be fitting if the Jets beat them. If they can "step up" to beat the only undefeated team in the NFL, Jets fans will have something to counter Giant fans' taunts. I really think the Jets can beat the Titans next week, but I don't bet, so I can't "put my money where my mouth is," as they say.

This is a NY football fan's dream, for both of my teams to be in first place in their divisions, and on a "hot streak," to boot! I've waited too long to write about football, this season! GO, NEW YORK GIANTS, and J-E-T-S!

Here's a funny anecdote: NYers are wearing "cheescake" heads, to welcome Favre to NY. It's not pretty, but it's pretty funny! Only in NY, kids!

CRUISIN' ON MY CHRYSLER!

2008-07-26T23:26:00.000-07:00

This is me, on my Chrysler PT Cruiser (made in China). I'm off to buy cat food for Buffy, in a photo taken by Anna.

BUFFY'S COSMIC LINKS

2008-07-22T00:15:00.000-07:00

LINKS TO ALL IMAGES OF BUFFY, THE COSMIC KITTYCAT.

the COSMIC KITTY!

BUFFY, the COSMIC KITTY, pt. II

BUFFY, the COSMIC KITTY pt III

BUFFY, THE CATWABBIT! (BUFFYWABBIT?)

BUFFY, COSMIC NINJA ASSASIN KITTY

BUFFY IS VERY COSMIC...

COSMIC KITTY, Continued...

Buffy, the Cosmic Cat

BUFFY'S COSMIC GATHER.COM PORTFOLIO! (MUST SEE! She has lots of cool friends there!)

Bellboy and Hatman! I mean Batboy and Hellman! I mean Hellboy and Batman!

2008-07-12T01:27:00.000-07:00

I love both of these guys. That's why I make fun of them.

See original sketch here.

Blue Skies, and Passing Clouds, at Sunrise

2008-07-03T04:40:00.000-07:00

Photos from my back window: Blue skies, and passing clouds, at sunrise...

...and a few minutes later, as the clouds pass.

I'm just warming up the camera for vacation. These images were reduded, cropped, and converted to JPG format. I'm not satisfied with this quality, but that's why I'm publishing these photos. It's kind of "trial and error."

Update: I put a Starborn image into the first photo. See the image here!

GAMERA VS. GODZILLA: THE MOVIE?

2008-06-22T21:56:00.000-07:00

Perhaps Gamera has to make a solo US movie before this will happen, but every kid around my age argued about whether Gamera could beat Godzilla! The majority of us bet on Godzilla, but we never would know the answer to that question. I'm begging hollywood to answer my prayers, and buy the rights to use Gamera in the same movie as Godzilla. I know that they are from rival Japanese studios, which is why they've never appeared in the same movie. Still, Gamera was the second most popular Japanese monster, rivalling the actual Godzilla spinoffs: Mothra, Rodan, Ghidra (aka Monster Zero). Gamera could be introduced in a new Godzilla movie, but I suspect I'm kidding myself.

PS: For those who don't know, Gamera was a giant monster who resembled a turtle. She could pull her arms, legs, and head inside her scaly "shell," and shoot jet blasts out of the openings, enabling her to fly, usually in a spinning motion. She could also breath fire. Gamera might not be a "she," but was impregnated by another monster in one movie. Gamera and Godzilla would be great together, in a movie.

PPS: There is much speculation, and fan-produced material about it, if you Google "Gamera vs Godzilla." Not surprising, considering me & the boys were talking about it over 30 years ago. Hollywood should take note.

Phil's Parties, 1987-2008

2008-06-01T23:20:00.000-07:00

Partying with Phil from the 1980's to 2008! Rock on, dude!

MY CHRYSLER PT CRUISER, MADE IN CHINA

2008-05-15T06:02:00.000-07:00

White, with silver to blue fade flames on the body and fenders, this is the coolest bike I've owned since I had a sting-ray chopper bike in the 1970's (which I painted flames and applied flaming skull decals to). It has the most comfortable seat in my experience, but the hanlebars are a little bit wider than I'm comfortable with. Overall, it's a great bike, once the substandard parts (plastic nuts, for one) are replaced.

The frame is heavy, and sturdy, as far as I can tell. I ride about a half-mile a day, and have a history of being "tough" on my bikes, but I enjoy riding my bike to work almost every day. This is my bike, "the Cruiser."

Why I Gave Hillary a Pass on Tuzla: My "Marty" Story

2008-04-01T22:04:00.000-07:00

My friend Marty Stahursky was a popular Freeport HS basketball star, some years ahead of my time there. My father was a teacher at FHS, so I had heard about him years before I actually met him. I used to tell a story about seeing his name on papers that my father was grading. There was one problem: Marty never had my dad as a teacher. I learned this after getting to know Marty in the '80's. Here's the most embarassing part: I continued telling this story, on occasion. It only happened a few times, inevitably in a bar, after a few too many adult beverages. Marty is a bartender, and I probably had a few too many the first time he "set me straight" about the story, as well. Still, as recently as 2002, I told this story right in front of him, and got publicly embarassed for it. Everyone laughed, as I tried to play it off as an example of a "false memory," which I had believed for so long, it was hard to distinguish from the truth. This only made my friends laugh harder. I haven't seen Marty since then, though there are no hard feelings, other than my embarassment.

While I realize that my "Marty" story pretty much happened in bars, I got to thinking about it recently because of Hillary's "Tuzla" flap. Maybe it's just because I can identify with her embarassment, but I've decided to "give her a pass" from criticism on Tuzla. I'll let others speculate on how a person creates a story in their mind, and it becomes "true" to them. Me, I've been there.

Now, I just hope Hillary's not having too many "adult beverages."

SUPERBOWL XLII MEDIA KICKOFF: Belichick, Brady, and Bundchen Invade NY; Romo Breaks Up With Simpson

2008-01-25T01:14:00.000-08:00

The chessgame begins. Tom Brady visited Giselle Bundchen in NYC, wearing some kind of cast on his foot. He ditched it later, but still made the cover of the NY Post and Daily Snooze, wearing it, on Tuesday. Welcome to the psychological side of football. It seems conspiratorial, but I have no doubt that this was scripted by Bill Belichick and Brady, with Bundchen serving as the NY hostess. The meme is that Brady walked into the heart of "enemy territory," while "wounded." Both Belichick and Brady have been through this media dance more than once, so they know how to do it. Luckily, NY is such a hugely skeptical media town that even the Snooze caught this as a scam by Wednesday. I'm sure the Giants' players knew it from first glance at the sports page cover photos.

In other Giants-related news, Dallas Cowboys' quarterback Tony Romo has broken up with Jessica Simpson. Will a loss to the Giants break up Brady and Bundchen? Only time will tell. This much is clear: Belichick is exploiting Brady's relationship with Bundchen for media exposure. I think he is trying to counter the media problems that Romo and Simpson had with the media, with this pre-emptive strike in NYC. Whether it will work is another matter.

PS:Don't forget they're the Cheatriots. For those who think I'm off the deep end, remember this: these guys get paid millions of dollars to WIN. How they do it is secondary. I wouldn't put it past a team that was caught cheating in the first game of the season to publicly falsify an injury to a player to the media, running up to the Superbowl. He might have a "high ankle sprain," or not. The footgear he wore in NYC was a publicity stunt.

Previous GIANTS '07-'08 posts:

CHRISTMAS PRESENTS: I WISH I GOT THESE WHEN I WAS 12!

The GIANTS vs. the "GREATRIOTS": The NFL Network Caved, and Showed a Great Game!

GIANTS VS. "GREATRIOTS" II: SUPER BOWL! (PS, I'm Back!)

The GIANTS vs. the "GREATRIOTS": The NFL Network Caved, and Showed a Great Game

2008-01-02T01:07:00.000-08:00

As a Giants fan, living on Long Island, I was going to see "the Game" on a local broadcast station (My9), anyway. This was a game that had no impact on the playoff standing of either team, and the sports media were questioning how long each team would keep their "first string" players in the game. The NFL Network, which is not available to a majority of cable customers nationwide, had exclusive rights to show this game.

The game was not meaningless, however. The Patriots were on the road to a perfect season, and the Giants were their final opponent. Giants "season ticket-holders" were selling their tickets to Patriot fans at exorbitant prices, and the NFL Network felt the pressure of this demand, as well.

If the Pats won, it would be a historic game, and the NFL Network would go down in history as "hoarding" the broadcast from the majority of football fans. This was a bigger problem than they bargained for, when they chose this as their final week's game.

I don't know what this portends for the NFL Network's future, but they caved to the public demand to see this game, and allowed it to be simulcast on NBC and CBS, two of the networks that have broadcast contracts with the NFL. They deserve a backhanded compliment for this decision, because the public was treated to one of the best games of the season.

Personally, I have a reason to laugh about this. My darling Anna was at my apartment, where I don't have cable, and the game was on 3 of the 7 broadcast channels I receive. She is not a football fan, but tolerates my fanatic analysis of the games every week, during football season.

I get to watch TV at work, when I'm not dealing with customers, so I watched most of the game. Imagine my surprise, when I got a phone call from Anna, less than a minute into the halftime break, with her saying "the Giants are winning!" Pigs were flying, and it was a cold day in Hell, and not just because the Giants were winning. ANNA WAS WATCHING A GIANTS GAME ON HER OWN ACCORD! My honey was enjoying a football game, and knew enough about it to tell me the highlights she noticed, which included plays I missed while at work. Did I mention how much I love this woman, and how much more it grows every minute, day, and year?

Unfortunately, I had to catch up on my paperwork at halftime, and couldn't listen to her express her new found jubilation for football for more than a few minutes. Still, I have to thank the NFL Network, for showing (or in Anna's case, practically FORCING) this game to a wider public audience.

An anecdote:

I watched the first Giants game of the year at Anna's place, and they
lost miserably, to the Cowboys. The Jets lost the later game that day, to the
Patriots. Anna was in "football denial," sometimes flinching when I yelled at
the TV. However, I remember her telling her daughter "that's the first fumble of
this season," after one particular "shout." I explained that if she watched the
game along with me, she wouldn't be "shocked" out of her shoes by my yelling;
she would be able to anticipate it, in fact.

It took most of the season, but by the time we watched the
Giants/Buffalo Bills game on Christmas Eve, she was with me. This brings me back
to the Giants vs. the "Greatriots."

The Pats got caught cheating * in the game against the Jets, in the first week (or second?). It does not change the fact that they are the best team in the league. They have proved it against some of the best contenders from both conferences, while playing some of the worst teams twice, as divisional foes.

The Giants are the team that couldn't "do it," until they could. They are a better team this year than they were last year, which should be credited to Tom Coughlin's "new" coaching approach this year. Though they lost "the game" to the Patriots, they scored more points against them than any other team had all year. I had a smile on my face as the clock ran out.

This game was a win for both teams, as well as the fans of football everywhere. While the outcome of the game didn't really matter in this season, this game gave the Pats several records, besides the perfect season. It also gave the Giants a kick in the ass, just when they needed it, as well as giving all of us a great game to watch on a Saturday night.

Another thing I am pleased to report is that almost all of the starters played throughout the game, refuting the rampant media speculation about "coasting" through the game. Both teams played to win, as if they were being paid millions of dollars to do so (oh, that's right, they are). I was proud of the Giants, even in losing.

At one point, I had to laugh out loud, yelling "it wouldn't be a Giant game, if Manning doesn't fumble a snap!" to the TV. At least he fell right on it. I was lucky enough to be able to bury myself in paperwork, as they completed their self-destruction. They have played much worse this year, but they are minimizing that "self-destruct" factor every week, lately.

The Patriots have an impressive receiving cadre, with Wes Welker and Randy Moss at the top of the list. They made the Giants' coverage look inept (which it was, at times). The Giants faced them without Jeremy Shockey, who is out for the year. Brandon Jacobs is the next best thing that the Giants have in their offensive arsenal, and I predict a long, and great career for this rather large young running back. Remember his name, because you're going to hear it alot in the future.

While both of these teams were already locked into their respective playoff spots, this game showed us something. The Giants are playing at a higher level than they have been through most of the season, and the Pats are fighting the odds, if they want to extend their streak to 19-0. I don't know if either of them are up to the challenge, but I think that the Giants can beat them, if they have a rematch in the Superbowl.

Thanks to the NFL Network for sharing with the broadcast networks, so that more of the people reading this may have actually seen the game! And kudos to Ty Phoon and Robert F., who wrote about the game on Gather already! Call 'em the "Hatriots," or the "Greatriots," the New England Patriots have made history, with a perfect season! *

PS: I stated in my last post (on Christmas day) that the Giants won't make it to the Superbowl this year. After watching them lose to the Pats last night, I have to recant that statement. It sounds crazy, but I sensed a continuation of the "change of momentum" I felt during the game against the Bills. I think it's growing, and they are going to get better each week of the playoffs. Even if that's wishful thinking, Tom Coughlin has done an excellent job at developing a winning team this year.

*(Google "Patriots spygate")

I'm Popular "On The Street," Apparently

2007-11-18T01:56:00.000-08:00

I don't often write about my job, because of privacy concerns. However, I want to share a funny tidbit, that happened at work tonight. A customer came in, and said "I've seen you here for like ten years!" I replied that this month is indeed my 10th anniversary at this job. He continued, "but you don't know, man, how many people know you! I mean, people out on the street be talkin' about the white dude with blond hair and the glasses at the motel desk-for years!" Now, I'm thinking "how many of them want to kill me, for calling the cops on them." I try to say this, but he's going on: "I have to get you a Christmas present, man. What do you drink?" I'm still programming his room key, as I hear myself saying "vodka." Now, if I was honest, I would have said beer, but that doesn't make a good Christmas present. If I wasn't in "work mode," I might have thought of a more fancy liquor that I like, but vodka is something I drink, maybe once or twice a year.

I have to say, I vaguely recognized this guy, but I've obviously been fair to him, over the years. There are customers that I remember well, but I check in 20 to 50 people on any given night. It is always strange to be known, or remembered by people that you don't know, or remember well. This is not new to me, because I was a nightclub owner, in the past. The part that is interesting to me is that now, as a desk clerk, I still have the respect of my customers, even though I don't "own the store," so to speak. It's a funny thing, when people praise you for treating them the only way you know how.

As I said, I've had run-ins with customers in the past. I've been called every name in the book, but some of these episodes ended with a better understanding, and relationship, between myself and the customer. Sometimes, they get banned from the motel, for a time. More often, it is customers like the one I mention here, who never gave me a problem, and as such, don't stick out in my memory, that remind me that I'm successful at my job. It's also why I'm the company's MVP, which I know because I've seen the other desk clerks at work. I am appreciated by my bosses.

Here's the secret: Be professional (use "sir," "ma'am," or "miss," when addressing customers), and treat everyone the same, under similar circumstances. I have a very multicultural background, and should not be surprised with my popularity on the streets of Brooklyn, Queens, and Long Island, within the small segment of the population that are my customers. Still, it's always flattering to hear that any group of people finds me worth talking about, as long as they're not plotting to kill me (JUST KIDDING!)

This is just a teaser. Someday, I will write more specifically about these years, because the things I've seen and learned at this job have been very valuable to me, on an intangible scale. I look forward to sharing them. Maybe, when I drink the Christmas present, I'll tell you about my encounters with Mark and Lisa Gastineau, of "Gastineau Girls" fame. Probably not, if I want to keep my job.

Until they "ship me back off to Ireland" (to quote another customer), that's all for now!

Oct. 19th, 1987: Black Monday, Nervous Breakdown

2007-10-19T01:19:00.000-07:00

Twenty years ago today, I had a nervous breakdown. I was crying into the telephone to my mother. It's not too complicated a story, actually. I had invested 65,000 dollars in mutual funds a month or so before, and they were in the process of losing 15,000 dollars of that value. Mom, having great experience in the "nervous breakdown" field, talked me through that afternoon. The hardest part was trying not to sell my funds when they were "falling uncontrollably." I knew, in my head, that this couldn't destroy the whole US capitalist system, but the media was comparing it to the '29 crash, and wondering if we were going into another Great Depression. I was only 25, but my mother was born in the mid 20's, and wasn't afraid at all of the "crash" in '87, and she was right. She had money invested as well, from our inheritance.

The point of this story is "don't get too emotionally twisted over money." It's one of the biggest challenges a person can face, and I say that from experience.

Retail Hell: Buying a Bike

2007-08-26T02:51:00.000-07:00

I just had an interesting experience, trying to buy a bicycle from "Toys R Us." Anna insisted on getting me a new bicycle for the 5th anniversary of our first date, and we started browsing on the internet. We found a nice bike, a Chrysler PT Cruiser, and wrote down the model number, SKU, etc. Next, we called the local Toys R Us store, to see if they had it in stock. I was hung up on 3 times before I found out that "no, we don't have it."

I had bought a cheap bike from them years ago, which fell apart 6 months after I bought it. The bike I was trying to buy now was more expensive, and made by Chrysler. I was told by a manager candidly that the bike I bought was junk, but they had better bikes, after the fact, of course. So, I gave Toys R Us another try, 6 years later.

Anna and I were already planning to go to the Green Acres mall, not far from that Toys R Us, and I suggested we go there, and ask if they could order the bike for us. As we walked into the bicycle area, the bicycle department employee was briskly walking away. Anna said "he saw us coming, and got the hell out, instead of helping us," and she was right. We looked for a rain tarp to put over the bike, but they didn't have any. In fact, they didn't have many bikes, either.

None of the bikes on their rack had fenders or chain guards, which are my two major requirements. There was a workstation with a PC, and I joked that I should use it to order the bike, because there was no one around to help us. We decided to head toward the customer service desk, or find an employee who could help us.

Crossing the front area, I asked a young male employee for help. I asked him "can you order this bike for me?" He said "no," and started walking away as fast as he could. I called to him, getting progressively louder until I hit the lower end of USMC volume. At that point, all the cashiers could hear me saying "Sir, who can I talk to?" He stopped, and pointed to the customer service desk, "with a look of exasperation on his face," according to Anna.

We were lucky enough to encounter the manager at the customer service desk, who informed us that the bike was only available online. He said I could get it shipped to my house, and then bring it to the store to be assembled, for 15 dollars (plus tax). We ended up going this route. I ordered it online, and it arrived on my doorstep from UPS, without me signing anything (a clear violation of UPS' rules, I might add).

I called Toys R Us to make sure that I could get my bike assembled there. I asked "can I get it done today?" The lady said "yes," and nothing more. It cost 16 bucks plus a tip for the cab over there, with the box, but I figured I'd ride the bike home, allowing 3 or 4 hours to assemble the bike. NOT.

The first thing they said at the customer service desk, after I brought the box in, was "tomorrow, after 5 PM." I work from 4 PM -midnight, so this meant 2 days. At this point, I was in no mood to argue. I thanked them all for their help, got a 9 dollar (plus tip) cab home, and took a nap before work.

I went to pick up my new bicycle today. It has a dent in the front fender, and some of the plastic nuts have been replaced by metal ones. I didn't bother making an issue of it, because it rides like a new bike, and it looks cool. Interestingly enough, though it's a Chrysler PT Cruiser model bicycle, it's made in China. Anna and I were both disappointed to find this out.

I have to raise the seat, as all the Toys R Us mechanics were off duty when I picked it up, but other than that, it was a fun 2 1/2 mile ride home. Let's see how well it holds up, because I am a notorious bike-beater. I ride alot, when I have a bike. I'm going to try to take good care of this one, because it's new, and a gift from Anna. Still, it was made in China, so I'm worried about the quality.

I thought the service at the store was atrocious.Toys R Us might also think of delivering online merchandise to a store, to be assembled and picked up by the customer. The culture I saw in the store was one of running away from the responsibilty of doing one's job, so they may not be up to the task. This is no way to run a business, and I know how NOT to run a business, from personal experience!

I'll take a photo as soon as I get the seat at the right height, and angle, but I like the bike, even with the low seat. I look like I'm a "low rider" with my arms fully extended as I stretch toward the back part of the "comfort" seat. I thought I broke some of the springs on the ride home, but it was a false alarm. Cross your fingers.

LEAV IN CALIFORNIA

2007-08-24T06:22:00.000-07:00

Cheers to the state flag of California! From LEAV!

CRAIG'S MONTE SS and ME

2007-08-24T06:04:00.000-07:00

I always wanted this car, and was lucky enough to take my first road test in it. It's my friend Craig's Monte Carlo SS, from the mid-late '80's. I had sweatpants that matched it, which look really cool in this photo. I really loved this car, even though it was never mine.

PACIFIC COAST LEAV!

2007-08-24T05:50:00.000-07:00

On a low cliff, overlooking the Pacific shoreline. I'm all like "Hey, what a background!"

LEAV: "BUGGIN" LA JOLLA!

2007-08-24T05:33:00.000-07:00

LEAV, on the passenger side of Mark's souped-up VW Bug, in La Jolla! What a vacation, in '87! I was PHAT! That was in fashion, in NY, at the time! I still had toned legs, though they're barely visible in this photo.

OFF TO THE BEACH!

2007-08-20T03:08:00.000-07:00

Taking my friend's little sister, and her friend, to Jones beach. I was 25, and they were 10 years younger than me. A fun time was had by all! The summer of '87!

Hangin' Out By The Pool!

2007-08-18T03:15:00.000-07:00

Hangin' Out By The Pool, 1990!

Dad and Me, in Central Park, around 1965...

2007-08-15T05:05:00.000-07:00

Dad, riding me around Central Park, NYC. I was suspicious of strangers at a young age, as is apparent in the last photo. In the second photo, dad looks the most like I do today, though I'm older than he was in these photos, and have much longer hair!

Man, I miss him.

HOT SUMMER VACATION, 1987!

2007-08-15T03:45:00.000-07:00

20 years ago, I was in California, on vacation. I stayed with my friend, and his wife. He took these pics, and kindly shared them with me. These were great friends, and great hosts, when I visited them. Great memories!

PORTRAIT

2007-08-15T03:10:00.000-07:00

The artist that painted this removed my red chest hair, with good reason: it looks awful! I swear, I didn't shave it for this painting. I like the face; she captured my expression very well. I was in my '30's when I posed for this. I'm grateful that this artist gave me this photo, but I have to thank Mrs. Brannigan, my friend's mom, who was also a member of that painting class. She got me the job, and gave me her painting, which I gave to my mom. My modeling career was short, because I couldn't keep my mouth shut.

No surprise there! Enjoy a great painting!

GOOD MORNING!

2007-08-13T01:58:00.000-07:00

NICE SUNRISE, AFTER A LONG NIGHT OUT!

My First Car: Goin' to the Beach!

2007-08-13T00:48:00.000-07:00

My first car, a Chevy Impala. I drove to Jones Beach alot in it, including the day of this photo. Around 1987, I'd guess.

NEW YEARS TOAST

2007-08-13T00:12:00.000-07:00

New Year's Eve, '84-'85. Champagne, good friends, "the Good Times." Is my smile too "snarky?" I knew this picture would look good, which made me smirk a little more. It was a fun night! "La" looks beautiful as ever, of course! I'm glad to count her, and her family, among my best friends in the world.

FRIENDS AND FAMILY: FERRET, HARPO, MICKEY ROONEY, AND THE "ORIGINAL" LEAV!

2007-08-10T03:36:00.000-07:00

This is a special post, put together for my friend Joe Higgins! The top photo is of Ed "the Ferret" Loftus, doing a phony punch to Tony "Harpo" Montano, with Mickey "Rooney" Montano, Tony's younger brother, throwing in his own "love tap."

The second photo is of Mickey "Rooney," getting out of his stock race car. I had the privelege of painting the designs on this car, including the tag, right below Mickey's legs, that says "SMOKIN' JOE HIGGS!" That refers to the above-mentioned Mr. Higgins.

The third photo is of my brother Bill, who these guys called "Lev" years before I adopted that appellation, though I always spelled it correctly, as "LEAV." In this crowd, I was known as "Howdy Doody," which Harpo later changed to Howard J. Doolittle, or "Howard," for conversational purposes.

All of these photos are from the early '80's, when all of us were much younger. Too bad I don't have any pics of "Higgs" from this era, but I'll publish them, if I get my hands on them. I have more photos of my brother, which I'll publish eventually.

Enjoy the trip to "back in the day!

The MAIN ST. CAFE: Rick Derringer and Dave Mason

2007-08-09T01:20:00.000-07:00

These are backstage photos from two of our biggest nights at the MAIN ST. CAFE, in Farmingdale, NY. RICK DERRINGER is drinking in the top one, as I shake his wife's hand. I'm in the back of the second photo, behind Dave Mason, and a group of people. (L-R): My partner John, wearing a "staff" shirt; the promoter (I think); Christine, our favorite bartender; me; DAVE MASON, who gave an excellent performance; and the reporter from the local "club" newspaper, on the right.

Notice that the reporter is the only one NOT looking into the camera. In his paper, the photo they published had him looking into the camera, with Mr. Mason and the rest of us looking away from his photographer, who was standing to the side. I got the better photo, hands down.

These are two photos with long stories behind them, and I intend to tell them. The Main St. Cafe was a HUGE chapter of my life, though it only lasted a year and a half. Since I've found an archive of photos in a friend's basement, I think it's time to tell some of these stories.

STAY TUNED.

JO HURT: The Star Wagon, 1966

2007-03-27T23:46:00.000-07:00

Ten tears after she died, my mom has arrived! She has a page on the Internet Movie Database.This is signifigant to me for several reasons, chief among them being recognition of her lifelong passion, which was acting.

Another signifigant point is that she was in The Star Wagon with Dustin Hoffman. She always told me that I met him, as a child, but I didn't remember it. According to IMDb, the film was released in 1966, when I was 4 yrs. old. According to mom, Hoffman was amused by my "talkativeness," until I had to be put in the corner because I wouldn't shut up.

I have to be honest. I only half-believed her. Mom knew alot of famous people (Elaine Stritch is my God-mother, and I really remember her!), but I wondered about some of her stories. She told me about Paul Lynde cornering my father at a party, but dad denied it ever happened. At least I have some objective corroboration that mom and Hoffman knew each other at the time.

The third thing is that it gives me more links, to expand the tribute page on my blog. So far, I only have a 1953 painting, a 1945 sketch of her, and an audio link to her Broadway performance of "Zip," from Pal Joey, in 1950. (check it out here)

Let me say this, in addition. For all her faults, she was a great mom, and was a big influence on the man I am today. I love her, and am proud of her accomplishments. I hope to keep her memory alive, and this is another step towards that goal.

FREEDOM, DISCIPLINE, AND 10 MINUTES IN THE BOY SCOUTS: A TALE FROM THE VENDOME

2007-02-03T04:30:00.000-08:00

My best freind Starsky was a Boy Scout, and couldn't hang out with us on "Scout" night. One week, he talked me, and another freind into attending a Scout meeeting. The meeting was in the basement of Starsky's school, Blessed Sacrement, on 71st St, by Amsterdam ave, in Manhattan.

He got us down there, but neither of us were serious about joining the Boy Scouts. We just wanted to see what kind of crap he had to put up with, to be part of this group, and why it was more fun than hanging out on the street with us.

Years later, I understand the good that the Boy Scouts' discipline instills in young men, but I, and our other freind would have none of it that day. The two of us lasted less than the first ten minutes in formation. Snickering, we saluted the Scoutmaster, and snickered while he talked, as well, which compounded our offense.

He yelled at us, and Starsky stood at attention the whole time. We embarassed him thoroughly, in front of his Scoutmaster and Troop. I finally got tired of it and said "F--- you, motherf---er, I'm outta here! Stick the Boy Scouts up your a--!" My other freind yelled "yeah!" and we ran from the room, breaking ranks in the neat Boy Scout formation.

Man, it felt good as we got outside, expecting Starsky to follow us. He didn't, though. He stayed in the Boy Scouts for another year, at least. I found out later that Boy Scout training was an advantage in USMC bootcamp, and Eagle Scouts really had a leg up on the rest of us, at least in my Drill Instructors' eyes.

Did I mention how much I hated Paaris Island? No, that's in a later chapter.

Back to the point: As a kid, I liked freedom, and fought against all authority. There was nothing better than being 12 years old, and running freely around the upper west side of Manhattan: climbing up buildings, throwing fluorescent light bulbs like spears down alleys, and getting chased by security guards in Lincoln Center, strip clubs on 42nd St, the annual Boat Show at the old Colisseum (where the Time-Warner complex is now), or anywhere else.

There will never be another decade like the 1970's, and I intend to document all of my experiences from that decade. These are the early years, in my TALES FROM THE VENDOME .

WINDOW PANES ON THE SUBWAY

2007-01-11T00:03:00.000-08:00

In 1980, I took alot of acid (See PERMANENT WAVES post). One time, I ate five hits of window pane acid at a freind's house on E. 89th St. in Manhattan, then had to commute to Long Island. I started "peaking" on the subway to Penn station, while still on the east side subway line.

I had this feeling as if my brain was on fire, or exploding, and wondered why I didn't look like my "Solaris" character, with flames for hair. I'm sure I looked scary, but probably not in a good way. I still weighed 120 pounds at 18 years old, and was doing my best to look "cool" in the reflection from the subway's window pane.

I got off at 42nd St, to catch the west side shuttle, but couldn't find it. I saw the 7 train, but wasn't sure if it was an alternative (it is). Hey, I was trippin', and starting to have a "bad" trip, in the subway system I had been travelling most of my young life. I finally decided that I would go ask a cop for directions. Did I mention I was trippin'?

Just as I found a cop to ask for directions, the sign appeared like magic above his head: "Shuttle to Times Square." Once safely on my West Side, I finished my trip to Penn Station, and back out to Freeport without incident... unless this was the same night I got on the LIRR train that made Seaford it's first stop. Naah. I was trippin' that night, too, but I'll tell it in another post.

The point here is to try to recall as much of this jumbled year (1980) as I can. Eventually, I will find some way to put this part of my story in order. These are mostly "small" anecdotes, but they are bricks in a huge wall.

STREET PHOTOGRAPHER on Park Ave. 1980

2007-01-10T23:51:00.000-08:00

From the PERMANENT WAVES:1980 Collection of Stories.

I was sitting on the premises of a building across from my job, smoking a joint, when a guy with a bunch of photography equipment came up to me, and said "can I take your picture?" I said "sure," and hid the joint behind my back, while trying to pose. He said "why are you hiding the joint?" I said " because I don't want evidence of me doing this, or to get busted."

This guy whips out a bunch of photos of himself, some as a clown, some as a cop. He gives me the total lecture about "who he is," and asks me "who I am," of course. I got bedazzled with his line of thinking, because I was taking too much LSD, mostly on weekends. The "street photographer"'s lecture led me to the point where weed became as bad as taking acid (which I was taking like candy), and I had to quit it as well, for a time.

This was one weird event that happened 27 years ago, in 1980, across from 2 Park Avenue.

Today, I could be the guy with the camera, taking photos of the young "screw ups." Plenty of idiots still smoke weed on the street, with all the private surveillance cameras out there, as well as the public ones! To tell the truth, I'd be scared to try to photograph people I don't know, or even ask them for permission, these days!

1980: PERMANENT WAVES!

2007-01-10T22:45:00.000-08:00

In 1980, I had just dropped out of Nassau County Community College for a job in the mail room of the Beneficial National Life Insurance Company, located at 2 Park Av, between 31st and 32nd St. My buddy Starsky worked there during the summer, because his mom was one of their executives, and she got me the job there, as well.

I went in to interview, and they gave me a test, with over a thousand questions, and told me I had to answer as many correctly as I could in 15 minutes. I answered alot of them (the number 141 seems to jump out as I write this), and then they hired me on the spot. They also told me that I would be smarter than my boss; kind of "off the record." I was clueless, of course.

I knew nothing about the insurance business, and even less about the mail service it required. I was a fast learner, however. I found the mail room to be full of characters: Linguini, the former gay whore, but an all-around fun guy to hang out with; T from the Bronx, a Black Italian; Brooklyn Pete, a typical guido; Periscope, who tried to be the old man among the group at 23, a recent departee from the US Navy, with full mustache, beard, and '70's hairstyle. We had also two Joe's, both from Brooklyn, though one was Italian, and one was from Haiti. There were many other people still to be mentioned, but no women worked in the male-room.

I haven't written much about this part of my life before, so hold on to your seats. Though I'm nowhere near finished with the "Tales From The Vendome" stories, I decided that I have to start telling some of the later stories, and 1980 came right after the 1970's.

During my year at Beneficial, they got sued by Beneficial (toot, toot! -you're good for more) Household Finance, and had to change their name to National Benefit Life Ins. Co. The president of the company was Gerald Tsai, who is still mentioned on Page Six occasionally (not that I ever met him, I just know old company gossip).

You will read funny anecdotes about these people, this company, and most of all, about me. I ate over 500 hits of LSD during 1979 - 80, and everything changed in my life that year. It lead to a breakdown, of course, and a recovery, of sorts. I joined the USMC in June of 1981. You will want to read about 1980, in NYC, as seen through my eyes.

PS: The Canadian rock supergroup Rush came out with the "Permanent Waves" album that year, which is where I took this title from. Rush Limbaugh is now the "spirit of the radio," to quote one of the songs from that album. Take some acid (or not), and think about that. "Take off...to the Great White North!"

Stories About the Permanent Waves:

STREET PHOTOGRAPHER ON PARK AV.

FIVE WINDOW PANES ON THE SUBWAY

TURNING DOWN THE GRAFFITI GANGS- A Tale From the Vendome

2006-10-14T04:43:00.000-07:00

As a kid growing up in Manhattan, I wrote graffiti. As a smart kid growing up in Manhattan, I quit writing on walls, after being busted on the subway. However, there was one night I was tempted to rejoin the "graffiti" gang community.

I was at a local church hall, that was rented as a place for the kids from the "projects" to gather. I had a social life in my own neighborhood, but was at war with Starsky, my best freind, at the time. This place was full of older kids, and they were selling joints out front, and inside. I was way out of my element, but struggled to "look cool." My classmate who brought me there led me over to a chalkboard, where people were writing their graffiti tags. If they sucked, they got erased immediately. The best ones were still up, and updated by their authors as challengers came along.

My buddy gave me a piece of chalk, and said "tag on the board, Chris-to-fuh." I tagged my bang 137, with the new style I had picked up from one of the guys at summer camp, who hung out with the REBELS, a local G-gang. I've posted previously about them jumping me, and stealing my spray snow on Christmas eve, the year before. As I said, I had quit writing on walls, but I was quite as happy to tag on the chalkboard.

Well, my style was considered good with the crowd, I think. Before long, a kid came up to me, offering membership in TMB, one of the local Amsterdam G-gangs. I forget what the initials stood for, but the last word was "Boys." I remember this because after I declined to join their group, a kid from TMW came up, and asked me to join his gang. I said "aren't you with that other guy?" He said no, the "W" was for "writers," but the other two words were the same. Apparently, they had been one gang once, and had some differences that split them in two.

Again, I declined to join this gang. I saw both of their gang names attached to tens of different individuals' tags, but I had quit writing, and really wasn't interested. I think the first two letters stood for "The Mad..."

Finally, a third kid comes up, and says "I'm not from one of these 'toy' groups. I'm asking you to join the Masters Of Graffiti."

MOG. They were almost as big as the Rebels, maybe bigger in other areas, or more widespread. Plus, this being the '70's, MOG sounded SO cool to my ears. I saw it attached to some of the BEST graffiti of that day, and I am qualified to judge. I pictured myself writing bang137...MOG. Then I remembered the Rebels, and what jerks they were. These kids may not have been the same color, or from the same background, but they were still criminals first, artists second. I sensed the predatory instinct, and politely declined again.

I bragged about this to Starsky, after we made up, and started hanging together again. Every time we saw a tag with MOG attached to it, I said, "I turned those a$$#0/es down!" I only write graffiti on the PC these days, though my last "tag" on a public space was on my 30th birthday. That's another story, from a later chapter.

This was a Tale From The Vendome.

MY FIRST BOUT WITH ANTI-SEMITISM: WHY I BEAT UP MY JEWISH FREIND

2006-08-08T02:00:00.000-07:00

I went to a Catholic school, as did most of my freinds. We had a Jewish freind, who I'll call Lenny. Starsky and I got around to talking about religion with Lenny one day, on a rock in Central Park. He explained that the Jews didn't believe that Jesus was the messiah. We were really into the story about us worshiping the same God, and had him show us the Hebrew writing he was learning.

Well, he was writing Hebrew words in the dirt with a stick for us, when we asked him if he had a word for Jesus. He scrawled something in the dirt, and then spat on it, and said someting like "I spit on Jesus, he means nothing to Jews," before rubbing it out with his foot. Well, we proceeded to KICK HIS ASS, which was DEFINITELY NOT very Christian behavior. We stayed freinds, after the usual "cooling off" period, but I had my first personal taste of "Jew-hating." I am still shamed by this behavior, because I am sure that Jesus doesn't mind his name being spit on, especially by a Jewish 12 year-old. "Turn the other cheek" would be the right choice, but I was 12 as well.

Lenny was a good freind, and I learned much about Judaism from him, and other close freinds in later years. I embrace Judaism, as the roots of Christianity. This was just an incident where I showed a typical pre-teen aggression in the face of opposition to my beliefs.

Many Christians have gotten past this difference in belief; how long until the Muslims will? And what of the secular anti-semitism so prevalent in Europe these days? Why was I able to get beyond this difference, and so many others aren't? That's for another post.

PS: The friend I call "Lenny" in this story is actually Andy Kessler, who died on Mon. Aug. 11th, 2009, after an allergic reaction to a wasp sting. Though I haven't seen him in over 20 years, I'm deeply shocked and saddened. Read more about him in his New York Magazine obituary:
http://nymag.com/daily/intel/2009/08/legendary_skateboarder_andy_ke.html

This story takes place before he started skateboarding. In future Tales From the Vendome posts, I will name him accurately. After seeing how he lived his life, I don't think he'd mind me identifying him. My condolences go out to his sister Jodi, and all his friends and family. He'll be missed.

KOOL AND THE GANG!

2006-07-02T23:23:00.000-07:00

My older brother Bill and I turned our Long Island freinds on to KOOL & THE GANG in the early-mid '70's. One of my favorite songs was from the album WILD & PEACEFUL. Here are some lyrics from this (unnamed) song...

Cryin' babies on the doorstep,
Helpless as can be,
Lady of the evening,
Set your mind free.
Grown up in the ghetto,
Never seen a tree, oh...

If you don't understand
The words to this song,
It's on you,
It's on me, yeah.

If you don't understand,
don't get me wrong,
It's on you,
It's on me, yeah.

You try to make it better,
You try to pull it in. (not sure of that line)
You take it from your pocket,
You take it from within.
You take it from your pride, y'all,
You're right back where you been, yeah.

If you don't understand
The words to this song,
It's on you,
It's on me, yeah.

If you don't understand,
don't get me wrong,
It's all about you,
It's all about me, yeah.

Is it any wonder that I was a liberal, growing up "Wild and Peaceful?"

I WAS A PRE-TEEN TERRORIST, CALLING IN A BOMB THREAT TO THE BANK ACROSS THE STREET!

2006-06-13T01:21:00.000-07:00

I don't know exactly what posessed us, but I suppose it was all of the domestic terrorism in the '60's that we grew up watching on TV, if I was to blame it on something other than ourselves. We had a copy of "Steal This Book," by Abbie Hoffman, when I was in my pre-teen formative years. This book is another convenient scapegoat for my young, impressionable mind. Our parents didn't know half of our subversive tendencies.

CASE IN POINT:

One day, we decided to see what would happen if we called a bomb threat to the bank on the corner of 72nd & Columbus Ave. We looked up their number, and called them, disguising our voices with some cloth over the phone. Sure enough, within about 20 minutes, there were police in the street outside our window, which faced the bank. If you've read some of my other Tales, you can guess what we did next: We egged their cop-cars from the roof! This time I was actually worried about hitting, and hurting a cop. We only took one egg each, though, and ran back downstairs to watch the cops looking up at our rooftop. We didn't even hide, because everybody was watching out of their windows.

The point here is that, at age 11 or so, I grasped the potential for asymetrical warfare in our free society that many well-educated idiots in the government, as well as the MSM still haven't! Thank God that I didn't stay on the radical course that I embraced in my youth. This was one of the worst of my childhood pranks, but it shows that you don't have to be too smart to outsmart an inept bureaucracy. We were never caught, in those pre-caller ID days. We never did it again, though we often joked about doing it again, when we were bored. This would always elicit laughter, and the re-telling of the story to anyone who wasn't there.

Carrying on the tradition, I hope you can laugh at this.

STATIC AND BANG137 IN FREEPORT: WERE WE A BAD INFLUENCE? YES!

2006-05-31T07:26:00.000-07:00

I've mentioned the transition to living in Freeport in an earlier post, where I described it as culture shock. That was only the beginning of my Freeport experiences. I turned on to pot, and other drugs there, though I don't blame the village of Freeport for that. It would have been worse if I had stayed in NYC, I'm sure.

I actually may have had a bad influence on Freeport. I was on the cutting edge of NYC graffiti artists that were spreading into the suburbs at that time. When I arrived in Freeport, the tags on every wall were things like "Frank Loves Mary," written very plainly. All of my new freinds were fascinated by my graffiti writing style.

This led me back to "tagging" walls, which I had quit doing in NYC. It seemed like a new world, where the lessons learned in NYC didn't apply. My brother hated this, even throwing my expensive "midi-wide" markers down the sewer! -All to no avail.

Before long, I was doing the masterpieces that I never got the chance to do in NYC subways on the back wall of the A&P supermarket in Freeport. The suburban onslaught of graffiti would have happened without "bang 137," but I happened to be a graffiti artist at that time.

I teamed up with another ex-NYC graffiti artist, the late Danny Briscoe, to produce this awesome vandalism. I use his real name here, because he figures prominently in my Freeport experience, and to remember him as a good freind. He tagged "STATIC," and we shared "SHOCK!" -as a joint graffiti name.

Freeport was a treacherous ground for us outsiders, though I had the good fortune of my father teaching at Freeport high since 1962, the year I was born. I also had an older brother who immediately established himself as one of the "bad asses" in the school, which was both a boon and a handicap, for different reasons.

Anyway, more about my Freeport adventures in future posts. This is merely a teaser, meant to ease the transition from my unfinished Vendome tales to this next chapter. The second story is "FREEPORT WILD TIMES: VANDALIZING THE GROVE ST. THEATER." see it here (link).

I'll gather the Freeport stories into one page, but it may be more than I wanted to chew. For now, this will be the page I post new Freepoet links to.

LOSING MY VIRGINITY IN A PET SHOP ON COLUMBUS AVE: WE WERE THE ORIGINAL "PET SHOP BOYS"! THANK YOU AL GOLDSTIEN!

2006-05-20T02:52:00.000-07:00

I was 14, and Starsky and our friendly neighborhood victim (Vic, for short) were 13. In short, we were adolescents who wanted to get laid. Well, vic worked in a pet store on Columbus Ave, between 71st and 72nd St. The pet store also had an apartment in the building above, where they used to keep dogs, like an illegal pet motel. Vic had the key to this apt.

We got ahold of a copy of AL GOLDSTIEN'S "SCREW" magazine, which wasn't too dificult, and found the ads for hookers. We arranged to meet the girl on the corner of 72nd and Columbus Ave. in a half-hour, and went upstairs. The apartment had various dogs in cages, but none that seemed mistreated. Vic's job was to take care of them, and he loved animals. After checking that the dogs all had food and water, we started jumping up and down on the bed (yes, it was supposed to be someone's apartment) screaming "we're going to get laid!"

Before long, and while Vic was out meeting the hooker, the Superintendant came and threw us out of the apartment for making noise. Now we had a hooker, and three horny adolescents, with nowhere to go. However, Vic also had the keys to the pet shop itself, which was closed on Sundays. Let's just say that it wasn't closed that Sunday. We had all been arguing about who would go first. Vic had the money; I was the oldest; Starsky just said "I'm badder than either of you."

So Vic shows up at the pet shop with the girl, who tells us she's 20 years old. She wants 90 dollars to do all three of us, and asks if it's all of us at once. We're like, "hell, no!" -at the same time, we realize that Vic only has 80 dollars. Starsky and I steal five dollars each out of the pet shop's cash register (but not a dollar more). As Vic walks by me to get the extra money "we" need, he whispers "you can go first."

We put down several huge bags of dog food as a mattress, and covered it with actual dog mattresses, still in the wrapping, in the back room of the pet shop.

The girl talked about how she'll never forget breaking three cherries in one hour. I'll save the explicit parts for my book, but will say that I have seniority over both Starsky and Vic by at least 20 minutes, in relation to losing one's virginity. She said that I was hogging their time (watching the clock), and I said "F#%* them!", as they laughed at my blue underwear (hey, it was the '70's, and my mom was "progressive"!-LOL!) through the diamond-shaped window to the back room.

Talk about a screwed-up introduction to sexual intercourse!

PS: The "PET SHOP BOYS" are also a new-wave band from the 1980's, for those who might not know. I am a big fan of theirs, even though they are totally GAY. I'm still an original "pet shop boy," but this, my first experience, was hetero. No hard feelings, to (or for) my homosexual freinds! LOL!

PPS: I ALSO WAS ABLE TO WATCH AL GOLSTIEN'S CABLE SHOW, CALLED "MIDNIGHT BLUE," WHERE HE FLIPPED OFF MAYOR KOCH, TELLING HIM THAT SCREW AND MIDNIGHT BLUE WOULD BE AROUND MUCH LONGER THAN ED WOULD BE MAYOR! HE WAS RIGHT.

ADOLESCENT PERVERTS! GRABBING ASSES ON THE STREET

2006-05-04T04:36:00.000-07:00

Please bear with me when I reveal these anecdotes, because they are all building blocks of the overall story that I am telling here. This one sounds really bad.

I was hangin' with Starsky and another kid from the crowd. Our little hormones must have all been out of control at the same time, because we went on an ass-grabbing spree on W. 72nd St. Two memories stand out; one shameful, one funny. After doing the "goose-and-run" thing for a while, we saw a couple of gorgeous Japanese girls. They were at least several years older than us (I was 11 or 12), but still very young and vulnerable. After we goosed them and ran, we came back, and did it again. They were definitely putting up with this better than any other girls (or women) that we had done this to earlier, so we tried to talk to them, but I ended up goosing one of them from the front side. I couldn't help it, and she finally did take a swing at me after that. I think she ended up hitting Starsky, who was totally innocent, of course.

After laying low for a while after that, we talked our other freind into humping a woman's butt at a pay phone on 72nd and Central Park West. Well, this lady was not one to be screwed around with, in the early '70's. She cornered him in the subway station, by running across the street to the other exit when he tried to escape, and he didn't have the balls to jump the turnstile. She called the cops from the pay phone, while Starsky and I laughed at his misfortune! I think that we eventually gave him lookout assistance before the cops arrived, but this was the '70's, so we had alot of time to help her in that respect as well, prolonging the hilarity! Yes, we actually helped her to capture him, before helping him escape.

When I was a kid, we didn't think about victimization. We did what we thought we could get away with, as children always do.We were victimized as well, but we got over it. I eventually learned how to treat women properly, but it took some time. More on that in future chapters.

(This one was posted in reaction to the 10 year-old who rubbed his groin on a school staffer, and got handcuffed by the NYPD for an hour. His behavior, like mine, deserves the harshest punishment appropriate for his age. I think he deserves worse punishment for trying that kind of behavior in school. Remember, I didn't even get caught! I punished myself later in life.)

RIPPED OFF BY THE GRAFFITI REBELS ON CHRISTMAS

2006-04-30T20:46:00.000-07:00

On Christmas eve, we went out with some spray snow to 'tag' a little. I had oficially quit writing graffiti a year earlier, so to do this with my older brother was a treat. However, we ran into a group of kids; a gang called the Rebels. These were rich white kids from the area, who wrote graffiti. They took our spray snow, and tagged "SE-3" and "the Rebels" with it.

"SE-3" was a kid from the neighborhood, one of this group. I went to summer camp with a freind of his, who wasn't there that night, but heard about it. He tagged AZTEC161, and taught me a new style for my graffiti name (bang 137). The style used in the graphic above is attributable to both of those individuals, even though I thought they were scumbags.

Graffiti was an essential part of my childhood. I eventually gave up graffiti on walls, as I imagine these other guys did. This story took place on W. 73rd St, but the idea of graffiti is universal and timeless. There is alot more to it than the standard political debate, or even it's artistic merit.

This blog is graffiti.

GETTING ROBBED ON HALLOWEEN, AND CHASING THE CULPRITS TO A PROJECT ROOFTOP

2006-04-26T05:23:00.000-07:00

I was in 6th grade, so I guess I was eleven when this happened. It was halloween, and I brought a couple of freinds over, to paint our faces for trick-or-treating. One freind unexpectedly "invited" two 14 year old girls, as well. I had no idea that I was being set up.

One of my two freinds kept me busy painting monster faces on each other in the bathroom, while the other helped these girls steal everything of value they could find in our apartment. When we got out of the bathroom with the monster makeup on, the girls were halfway out the door. I didn't notice the bulge in one of the girl's snorkel coat at all.

As we talked about where we were going to trick or treat, one of the guys asked me to play the radio. This was unusual in itself, because we didn't usually listen to the radio when we were hanging out. I said "OK," only to find the radio missing. I ran to the drawer that held my brother's cassette recorder. Gone! I started crying like a baby, thinking about how much trouble I was in. Everything was gone, even my brother's penny collection!

I almost came to blows with my freinds after realizing that they set this up. It ended up with us trailing the girls to McDonalds, where they spent the pennies, and further downtown to the Amsterdam projects, behind Lincoln Center, where most of my classmates lived (These two idiots among them!)

Somehow, we found which building they were in, and enlisted the help of the Toyloy family in that building. I name them because Ricky was in my older brother's class, and his sister Yvette went to the roof with me to get the goods back from the theiving girls. I had the pleasure of reminiscing about this incident with both of them last year at the one and only St. Paul the Apostle School reunion.

Unfortunately, the two "friends" who set me up back in the day weren't at the reunion, and I never knew what happened to the girls. We had them arrested, and their families kept coming to our house to plead with us not to press charges. I had a fantasy about getting sex from one of them to keep them out of jail, which was a pretty bad thing to think at such a young age. Of course, I was 12 years old by that time, so I had an excuse for thinking that way. We ended up not pressing charges, my childish fantasy remaining just that.

At the reunion, I heard that the old freind that showed the girls where all the valuables were in my family's apt. was now in jail. Big surprise. He, and the other kid had starting stealing cars by eighth grade, just two years later. I always hoped that my better nature would rub off on freinds like these. I should count myself lucky that more of their malicious nature didn't rub off on me.

JUST ANOTHER HALLOWEEN TALE FROM THE VENDOME! DON'T MISS MUG-OR-TREAT, from the next year!

GERALDO REPORTS ON A FIRE AT THE VENDOME

2006-04-18T22:01:00.000-07:00

I was called down to the Principal's office again. What the hell did I do this time? I saw my brother was also summoned, so it wasn't likely anything we did. We didn't socialize at school. It turned out that there was a "little fire" at our building, as the Principal described it.

I remember worrying about Baggy, our cat, all afternoon. Mom was at work until 5 PM, just a few blocks away from my school, and Dad was in Freeport, teaching HS English.

As it turned out, there was a 4 alarm fire at the Vendome (48 W. 73rd St), started by a grease fire from the bar/restaurant on the ground floor. All but 5 apartments of the seven-floor building (6 apts. per floor.) were uninhabitable. All of the B apartments were spared, as in 3B (our apt.), 4B, etc. Baggy was fine, too.

When I finally got home, the walls of both adjoining apartments were totally ripped out, and you could see into the living rooms. Pink insulation littered the hallway. It was surreal. When we got to our apt, at the end of the hall, it was amazing to see so little smoke damage inside.

Around 4 or 5 PM, a channel 7 Eyewitless news crew came around to film a report. The guy they sent had long hair, and was a rising star of local news at the time, none other than GERALDO RIVERA! He made the report from our upstairs neighbor's apartment, 5 or 7B.

This is one of my earlier Vendome stories, so I was pretty young. GERALDO did his report, and when they put the camera on me and my brother, I was smiling and laughing, so I looked down. We saw it rebroadcasted on the late news, at 11. He didn't ask us any questions, someone just said "get a shot of the kids!"

I still laugh at that memory, but this was a great tragedy, though no lives were lost. At that age, I was just happy that my cat was OK, and that we still had a place to live.

REBUFFING ANOTHER GAY ADVANCE; WHAT, WAS THERE SOMETHING IN THE WATER?

2006-04-12T01:28:00.000-07:00

I had an older friend, a kid who lived in the Mayfair towers, next to the Dakota. He was 14, I was 12. He was rich, I wasn't. He was pretty slick about things, too. First, he talked me into trusting him to carry me across a shallow part of the boat lake in Central Park, instead of getting muddy feet walking around it's edges. I was a naieve child, when it came to friendships. Of course I ended up swimming in the filthy water, and got beaten with the scrub-brush when I got home. Yes, beaten on the butt, and screaming on the floor.

This was Mom's message to me, telling me that something was wrong with this.

I was leery of hanging out with this kid again, but I went over to his apartment to play with GI Joes. Yeah, well it got kind of weird. He started undressing, saying we were going to play with GI Joes in the bathtub. Ever the diplomat, I said I didn't want to do that. He ended up rolling around on his thick shag carpet naked, as I hastily excused myself.

I took it in stride. I had other friends that I knew were gay, even before they admitted it, when I was 12 years old. We were still kids; I thought of this as an embarassing invitation that I rejected. Only today do I realize that this kid was probably molested at an early age, which made him so open about what he wanted to do at 14 years old.

I was lucky for my upbringing. I was exposed to NYC in the '70's, and it wasn't a pretty sight, except to me. I thought I lived in a great world, even with all of the crap my family went through. I am a product of my times, and I'm proud of it.

HOW I AVOIDED CHILD PORNOGRAPHY AT THE VENDOME: I WAS GIVEN A CHOICE

2006-04-06T04:58:00.000-07:00

As a child, even before I moved into the Vendome, I had been photographed more times than I can remember, though there is that one with me lifting my shirt with no diaper on, at about 2, that I'll never forget... LOL! My father was an amateur photographer, and my mother had a freind who was a professional photographer. Between them, we had a ton of family photos by the time I was 8 years old.

Around this time, this friend of mom's asked her if I would pose for nude pictures, and she asked me if I wanted to pose nude for his "artistic" photography. I was pre-pubescent, but still realized the sexual aspect of this. I knew he was gay, wanting to look at me in a sexual way, not an "artistic" one. I liked girls, even before I reached puberty, and knew this wasn't for me.

I told mom that I wasn't comfortable posing nude, and that was the end of that story. As much as I might fault my mom for even asking me if I wanted to pose nude for a probable pedophile, I'm proud that she never let that happen against my wishes, and protected me from worse predators. She was a consummate liberal, open to all ideas. I was exposed to more in my childhood than many adults have seen in their whole life.

There's a flip side to this coin: I wanted to see one of my babysitters nude, and she never babysat me again. That's for another post, but she was also a freind of mom's; one with morals.

LEAV IN THE USMC: I WAS CALLED "LITTLE HITLER" IN THE NDRC

2006-03-28T02:50:00.000-08:00

A teaser from a future chapter: LEAV IN THE USMC

Shortly after I was admitted to the Naval Drug Rehab Center (NDRC), I was made Unit Leader, under the premise of putting low-ranking (I was an E-3) people in charge of the rest of the druggies. I soon earned the nickname "Little Hitler," for enforcing the rules strictly. It was strictly for show: I used to let most of the people I assigned extra duty off, telling them to do some "light dusting" in the back of the squad bay (In other words, just disappear for an hour). I did make some senior people scrub shower drains with toothbrushes, though. This appeased the staff at the rehab, and helped me keep discipline as well. "Friends" who thought that they could flaunt the rules were occasionally made to pay with shit duty as well, keeping the worst people in line. Yes, we were a bunch of screw-ups, but they were MY screw-ups, and I marched them around with the pride that any leader would take in his people.

There is more to tell about my stay at NDRC Miramar, which also is the base where the movie "Top Gun" was filmed. This is just a teaser, of course.

Update: This one's funny, "MY FAVORITE GUNNY."

BRUCE'S PLEASURE CHEST: A VENDOME TALE

2006-03-27T06:10:00.000-08:00

When I lived at the Vendome, a sex store opened up in the neighborhood, called Bruce's Pleasure Chest. We actually went into this store, and held the wax tit-candles and penis water guns. At that age, it wasn't long before we got banned from the store for our antics in that environment.

This made them our enemies. Bruce's became a target of ours, much like the old Irish bar, which we smokebombed just for kicks. With Bruce's, we threw a bunch of empty airline liquor bottles at his window. Whoever was working there threw a huge empty vodka bottle back at us, that night.

Another time - I can't remember exactly what we did, but we ended up on my friend Rich's fire escape, directly above the store, with the fag from the store yelling "if I ever catch you kids, I'm going to MOLEST you!" -as we taunted him back!

I often wonder if Bruce's PC was tied in with the gay drug dealing ring that took over the area, as cited in my other posts. I think that he owned one of the weed spots that I went to years later, a few blocks away, under the cover of a similar sex shop. It's pretty much a no-brainer,

--BECAUSE...

He remembered us as the kids who caused him so many problems at his first store, which I didn't know to be a weed spot, being too young. Years later, we ended up copping from his new store, as well as the bookstore, which I think was another of his front businesses. We never had a good relationship with any of these guys; they were always pushing the limits of acceptable behavior, even when we were buying pot from them.

I don't want to associate all sex shops with Bruce's, or slander all gays as drug dealers and/or child molesters. I do want to relate my past experiences, which happen to include all of these elements, to one degree or another. These events all happened from the mid - 1970's to early '80's, and are merely anecdotes from my days living at the Vendome.

Bush Fails To Prevent East Coast Blizzard

2006-02-22T01:24:00.000-08:00

This was forwarded to me in an email from ÅG:

Bush Fails To Prevent East Coast Blizzard

Minorities Hit Hardest by Brian Williams NBC

As President Bush and his staff cowered in the White House, snow continued to pile up on the many poor and minority victims who could not afford to get out of town, or to safety in Florida. Crucial supplies of blankets, hot cocoa, popcorn and dark rum - so essential to surviving the stress of any major snowstorm - lay in stores undelivered.

"Where is the government? I need my sidewalk shoveled so I can get out to buy my damn lottery tickets!" said one D.C. resident from his living room. "Why are we wasting money in Iraq when we could be spending it here?"

Progressive blogs blasted the President for his inaction. "We find the timing terribly suspicious - just as the Domestic Spying hearings kick into high gear, what happens? A major northeast Blizzard. Why now?" wrote blogger FUAmericaNBush2.

Hearings into the Blizzards' effect on hearings are almost a certainty.

Howard Dean has suggested he will call for an investigation once his new medications kick in. John Kerry took a break from the sporting activities of the glamorous super-rich in some exotic locale (random choice: Ice Sailing in Finland) to call for new legislation outlawing snowstorms. "The Republican Congress has dropped the ball once again. I have always been a staunch supporter of anti-snow legislation, except for certain locations where I ski. Snow has no business on our roads and the President and Congress know that."

Calls for impeachment over "SnowGate", as some are calling it, already are mounting as deeply as the snow itself. What will be discovered underneath will prove to have a truly chilling effect on the Republicans, as the inevitable thaw proceeds.

More breaking news......

Al Sharpton demands an investigation as to why snow is ALWAYS white.

Cheney has stock in Tru-Value Hardware, which sold an unprecedented number of SNOW SHOVELS today. Calls for Cheney's impeachment are mounting.

The gracious junior senator from N.Y. has opened the doors of her home to all of the heatless poor of her neighborhood. She is busy baking cookies for them, while her husband applies body heat to the nearly frozen teen-aged girls.

TALES OF EGGING HIPPIES FROM THE ROOF OF THE VENDOME

2006-01-29T03:49:00.000-08:00

One morning I woke up to the sounds of anarchy from my window. My brother and I jumped out of our bunkbeds, and looked out onto Columbus Ave, which was filled with anti-Vietnam war protesters. They were screaming, "What do we want...PEACE! When do we want it...NOW!" We looked at each other, and said "let's get the eggs." We never had such a "target rich" environment. I mean, you couldn't miss! We took a dozen eggs to the roof, and let loose.

While I found that extremely enjoyable, I have to admit to a disturbing dream I had afterward. The hippies finished the above-mentioned chant with the phrase "How we gonna get it... by VIOLENCE!" Then they came up and killed me and my family in the most horrible way. I was scared of the radicals as a kid, even though I knew that hippies stood for "peace and love," according to the media of the day.

Right, just like Cindy Shee-hen, kissing up to the latest South American despot, represents that now.

My brother and I were wrong to follow our first instincts, and throw eggs at them. We could have seriously injured someone, maybe even a cop, just doing his job. We didn't think of that. Our behavior was directly influenced by the behavior of a bunch of older children who presumed to disrupt our lives with their protest. It looked like anarchy, and inspired that in our young minds. I make no excuses for my actions. I only hope I hit deserving people with my eggs, and their injuries were not too bad. Unless they deserved it under cosmic justice.

PS: Future installments include a friend fake-peeing off of the edge of the roof with a water baloon, and getting caught by my gay neighbor! Stay tuned!

TALES FROM THE VENDOME: INCIDENT AT 72ND & COLUMBUS

2006-01-18T01:56:00.000-08:00

It all started with Starsky. He had to throw the gum into this other guy's hair, as we were walking away. He ducked around the corner before the guy turned around, and I was standing there. This guy was a 17-year old who had been trying to find out if we were gay, which we weren't Anyway, he charged at me, and I charged right back at him. As we scuffled, Starsky came around the corner to assist me against this older, bigger opponent.

Walking down the block was the president of the 71st St. Block Association, and his boyfriend. As he broke up the fight, he held Starsky up against a wall by his throat. Starsky and I were scrawny kids of 13-14 at that time, and this seemed excessive force to me. The 17-year old and I had stopped fighting as soon as the adults intervened, and Starsky wasn't really doing that much, but told the guy "get away from me," or something. I can only guess what provoked this crazy bastard into this rage. I screamed "I'm calling the cops on you, man!"-to which he replied "go ahead, I'm the head of the Block Association!"

I ran over to the bodega on the SW corner of 71st and Columbus to call the cops. The men that hung out in front of the bodega asked us what was wrong. We told them what happened, and they tracked down the two guys at 72nd and Colunbus Ave. This one guy from the bodega came right up to the guy who choked Starsky and said "you hurt that kid," and punched him straight across the jaw!

Within minutes, a larger crowd had gathered. The police pulled up, and the block ass. president told the officers that "this guy hit me!" -The cops immediately handcuffed the guy from the bodega, as Starsky and I, along with the crowd, screamed out against this injustice. The cops wouldn't listen to us, two crying little boys in a sea of outraged people. We tried to show them the bruises on Starsky's neck, but this was the '70's, so we had to accept it.

Meanwhile, in the Vendome, my older brother noticed a commotion out the window; a huge crowd of people gathering around a police car, blocking the intersection of 72nd & Columbus. He got out the monocular (made by our grandfather - Robert K. Leavitt Sr.), and looked across the street. He called our mom to the window, and she saw the entire scene. Starsky and Hutch, in the middle of a big public fiasco again. At the center of the mob, there we were, crying our eyes out to the cops, to no avail.

The only moral I can find here is "don't throw gum in people's hair, and don't assault suspected criminals, unless you want to get screwed." -just another installment in my Tales from the Vendome.

"THE THEME" FROM LEAV! -YA DAMN RIGHT!

2006-01-06T03:19:00.000-08:00

Who's the crazy bloggin' man
That's spreadin' sense across the land?
LEAV!
Ya damn right!

Who is the man that would risk his neck
For his brother man?
LEAV!
Can you dig it?

Who's the cat that won't cop out
When there's danger all about?
LEAV!
Right On!

They say this cat LEAV is a bad mother...
SHUT YOUR MOUTH!
-But I'm talkin' 'bout LEAV!
THEN WE CAN DIG IT!

He's a complicated man
And no one understands him but his woman
ANNA LEAV! she's a liberal...

An homage to one of my many inspirational influences, Mr. Isaac Hayes. For those who don't know, these lyrics are an altered version of the theme from SHAFT, a popular movie character in the 1970's. Yeah, Samuel Jackson updated the character in 2000, but he's not Richard Roundtree, the guy who I thought played the BIGGEST and BADDEST hero of that era.

Update 03/15/06: Isaac Hayes has quit south Park over a spoof of Scientology.

Gordon Parks, who created Shaft, has died.

Sad news all around.

PETA KILLS KITTIES!

2005-12-29T05:51:00.000-08:00

PLEASE STOP THIS HATEFUL GROUP!

THEY KILL KITTIES!

PARTISAN SEASON'S GREETINGS

2005-12-27T01:23:00.000-08:00

For My Democratic Friends:

"Please accept with no obligation, implied or implicit, my best wishes for an environmentally conscious, socially responsible, low-stress, non-addictive, gender-neutral celebration of the winter solstice holiday, practiced within the most enjoyable traditions of the religious persuasion of your choice, or secular practices of your choice, with respect for the religious/secular persuasion and/or traditions of others, or their choice not to practice religious or secular traditions at all. I also wish you a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling and medically uncomplicated recognition of the onset of the generally accepted calendar year 2006, but not without due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures whose contributions to society have helped make America great. Not to imply that America is necessarily greater than any other country nor the only America in the Western Hemisphere. And without regard to the race, creed, color, age, physical ability, religious faith or sexual preference of the wishee. By accepting these greetings you are accepting these terms. This greeting is subject to clarification or withdrawal. It is freely transferable with no alteration to the original greeting. It implies no promise by the wisher to actually implement any of the wishes for herself or himself or others, and is void where prohibited by law and is revocable at the sole discretion of the wisher. This wish is warranted to perform as expected within the usual application of good tidings for a period of one year or until the issuance of a subsequent holiday greeting, whichever comes first, and warranty is limited to replacement of this wish or issuance of a new wish at the sole discretion of the wisher."

For My Republican Friends:

Here's wishing all of you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year

Hat tip to AG, an old school buddy.

ON RACE: ARE BAD WORDS REALLY HATEFUL? 06/26/03

2005-12-23T01:38:00.000-08:00

I've been thinking about "hate" crimes and "hate" speech lately, and I'm reminded of two episodes from my childhood.

The first one was when I was in sixth grade at St. Paul the Apostle school in Manhattan. Most of my friends lived in the Amsterdam housing projects, right behind Lincoln Center. Most days, after school, we would go to the Lincoln Center Library and do childish things, like sliding down the escalators, or scratch up the great Motown records (after listening to them, of course). Across the street was the Julliard school, where we would sneak in and try to get a peek at the aspiring ballerinas practicing. They were like creatures from another planet, all of them so pale and skinny, with their hair pulled up in a little bun on top of their heads.

One day we stayed outside, and taunted them as they left the school, saying "HON-KEY, HON-KEY, HON-KEY!" This was great fun for an hour or so, after which we went back over to Lincoln Center to hang out. I finally got around to asking one of my friends what a "honky" was. After he told me, I said "but wait, I'M WHITE!". One of my friends said "You're not Puerto Rican?", to which I replied "I've got blond hair and freckles!". He replied, "Chris, YOU A HONKY!". We all laughed, and no friendships were ended that day, though we didn't "honky-bait" the Julliard girls again.

The second episode was maybe a year or so later, when I was spending weekends in Freeport with my father. I met a whole new bunch of kids from south Freeport (all white), and quite a different culture. I was talking with a girl from this crowd, when I said to her "nigga, you're crazy".

OH BOY.

The resulting commotion could be called "culture shock", but I was lucky the whole crowd didn't kick my ass! I tried to explain that where I was from, that expression was no more offensive than saying "Man, you're crazy" or "Dude, you're crazy". I can still remember her screaming "He called me a nigger!", over and over as my brother helped smooth things out with the crowd.

I still wonder if she would've had as bad a reaction if I had said "Bitch, you're crazy". However, I'm proud to say that I watched many people from that crowd overcome their racism in the following years, especially during high school.

The point of these stories is that you can't judge what's in a person's heart or mind just by what they say on one occasion. You also can't guess at what another person might be over-sensitive to, or what they actually hear when you speak. I realize that I'm citing childhood anecdotes, showing me to be quite a naive child. As adults, more is expected of us. Therein lies my problem with "hate crime" laws. If I get into a fight with a black guy, and I call him "nigger" during the fight, is that a "hate crime"? Considering my above stories, couldn't I make a case that, in my formative years, I learned that word as being no more offensive than "man" or "dude"? Would a jury buy it?

-Or how about a customer at the motel I work for, an old black man who said to me "they should ship you back to Ireland"? (I swear it's true, Anna was on the phone listening to the whole thing!) Should I have denied him a room, and sued him for "hate speech", or just laughed it off? I laughed it off, of course.

However, I don't see a need to apologize for using "bad" words in my everyday speech (or my emails). I don't use racially polarizing words nearly as often as I use plain old profanity, which is supposed to be offensive to everyone.

While society is getting more permissive of general profanity, more and more words are deemed "politically incorrect" due to racial over-sensitivity. Well, I'm not buying it. The only person I have to worry about offending is the man who looks back at me in the mirror; he's the most honest judge of my character.

We're all human, and quite fallible. Once we accept this, maybe we can work around all of our individual "quirks" and "biases". I may hate what someone else has to say, but I will defend their right to say it, unless it actually incites others to break the law.

CHRISTOPHER K. LEAVITT

PLASTIC KARMA

2005-12-23T01:05:00.000-08:00

I overdrew my debit card for the first time ever, the same week that I lost it, along with my wallet, on my way to my fiance's Christmas party. While it was bad karma to lose my wallet, and all of my ID, I'm sure whoever found it thought they hit the jackpot after seeing my Republican National Committee ID. Not all Republicans are rich, even in NY. They will be as sorely dissapointed as I was about the loss of my ID.

I CALL THAT PLASTIC KARMA

PS: I see the bright side; that I had no money in the wallet when I lost it, and that the card was useless to anyone who found it. I was able to correct both my arrears and get a new card at the same time, and the nice lady at the bank suggested a passport as a back-up ID.

NEXT: Reclaiming my ID before a potential ID theft! (Another bad move by the scammers, if they try)

UPDATE: Found my wallet at the bottom of my closet! Take that, imagined ID thieves!

TALES FROM THE VENDOME: AN OPEN-AIR DRUG STORE

2005-12-16T04:14:00.000-08:00

I was shocked, SHOCKED! -to see the front steps of my building, the VENDOME, on the front page of a neighborhood newspaper, with the title "W. 73rd: An Open Air Drug Store". Ouch! There were a bunch of guys that hung out on the steps of my building, and we politely tolerated them. I was just a kid, but eventually realized what was going on, and still thought the guys out front were OK! They were only selling pot, but they got thrown off the corner. I moved back into the VENDOME in 1980, and actually bought pot from one of the last guys still trying to sell there, and he remembered me from when I was a kid. I remembered him from before I knew they were selling weed...he sold me 3 joints for 2 dollars as a special. LOL!

After they cleared all the pot guys from the corner of 73rd & Columbus Ave, we started going to little bookstores for weed. There was one on Columbus Ave, just north of 73rd St, with a fag propietor with hair something like mine, at that time. This guy reached out and tried to grab my hair, saying "I want hair just like this!" -while I'm giving him the five dollars for the weed! I jumped back, and was like, "yo, man! I just want my weed, man. I'm not gay". My friends almost bugged out. This guy didn't know the kind of violence he was facing, though we probably wouldn't have hurt him, just destroyed his store. At 18, we were torn between the opportunity of an easy weed connection, and the knowledge that this guy wouldn't call the cops on us if we "bugged out" in his 3-foot by 100-foot store. Okay, maybe 6 - 10 feet wide, but that's a liberal estimate. Cooler heads prevailed that night, though we ended up being banned from there before he got busted.

So the gay book (weed) store, which turned out to be a ring on the upper west side, was shut down, and I ended up moving back to Freeport, joining the USMC shortly thereafter. My mother was evicted from the VENDOME while I was in the USMC. She used to say "When lucille Ball throws a vacuum cleaner out the window, everybody thinks it's funny!" Luckily mom threw the vacuum out of the side window, onto the roof of the store next door (See first Vendome post), and no-one was hurt. Phew! The tales just keep coming, so I'm gonna write 'em out!

BREAKING INTO THE DAKOTA: MORE TALES FROM THE VENDOME

2005-12-16T02:24:00.000-08:00

I spent a large part of my childhood living on the same block as the Dakota, where John Lennon, among others, lived (Boris Karloff & Basil Rathbone come to mind). The Dakota also famously rejected Billy Joel as a tenant in the '80's. My stories are from the '70's, however. I grew up with rumors about a ghost on the 7th floor, and something to do with the filming of Rosemary's Baby, though I can't remember specifics now. It was just a facinating place.

The Dakota has a short wall around it, just a few feet, topped with a dragon and warrior motif railing. The whole thing is maybe 4 ft high, and the other side is about 6 feet below street level on the Central Park West side, and 6 ft. deeper on the 73rd St. side of the building, or 12 ft. below street level, with doors on both sides of the space between the building and the street.

My freinds and I used to jump the wall into the shallower area, then jump down into the deeper one, and try to break into any weak doors that we could find. We eventually got into a door that was on the side facing the sidewalk, and found only an empty space, with a dirt floor. This had taken some effort, and was also not a place we could hang out in, because there was no escape, except for the way we came in. It also was not really "in" the Dakota building, so we thought of another strategy.

We all got our courage up, and walked up to the doorman (on the 72nd St. side), and said "We're friends of John Lennon's son," and he just let us in. I SWEAR TO GOD. We took the elevator to the 7th floor, walked around the hallway a little, and then screamed as we ran down the stairs, and back past the doorman onto the street.

That is the memory I will always have when I see photos of the spot where John Lennon was shot. I can't believe that a place I was so close to has become the scene of a historic murder. I never saw Mr. Lennon around the neighborhood, though many of my friends did. I always mourn him as my famous neighbor, as well as a musical icon. (Typical Manhattan elitist thinking, but I can't help it!)

OUT THE WINDOW: TALES FROM 48 W. 73RD STREET (THE VENDOME) 1974

2005-12-04T06:43:00.000-08:00

Photo of my windows (center) facing Columbus Avenue. The window I jumped out of is around the right corner of the building.

I lived for a time at 46 W. 73rd St, and then moved next door to 48, which was on the SE corner of Columbus Ave (&73rd St.). My parents had separated, and my father lived in Freeport, Long Island. I stayed with him on weekends, being picked up either on Friday night, or Saturday morning. I had made some friends in Freeport, and preferred to be able to see them on Friday nights, of course. Well, one week, when I was about 12 years old, I thought I should be able to travel from Manhattan to Freeport alone on a Friday night. Mom would have none of this, of course. Dad would be coming in the morning to take me out to Freeport, and that was that. I was banished to my room, with 2 windows overlooking Columbus Ave, and a third window just one floor above the roof of the store next door.

I don't know exactly what posessed me that night, but I look back to my wish to be like Shaft, Spider-Man, and the Werewolf at that age, just as a guess. I put some clothes in a plastic bag, and scraped together the money for the subway and LIRR fare (I think it was $2.35 for the LIRR during off peak hours, and either 35 or 50 cents for the subway, though I'm not sure at all), and JUMPED OUT OF THE SIDE WINDOW, ONTO THE ROOF OF THE BUILDING NEXT DOOR. I sprained my ankle on that first jump, and then had to climb down the store's fire escape ladder, and hang- jump down onto Columbus Ave, about midway between 73rd and 72nd streets. I was hearing the theme from Shaft in my head as I limped down 72nd St. to the subway, and then to the LIRR, on my way to hang out with my friends in Freeport.

By the time I got to the Freeport LIRR station, it was past my usual curfew, and I had to walk the 2 miles to dad's place, because I had no money for a cab. I was starting to realize that this was not going to be worth what I had invested in it. Boy, I didn't know the half of it. When I arrived at St. Marks Ave, where dad lived, he was waiting at the door. NOT HAPPY. He invited me in, and asked me if I knew why my mother had so many nervous breakdowns. Of course, I had no clue. I was always the last one to know when mom got "spooky", as we called it, and I often unwittingly encouraged it. Little did I suspect, maybe not even during this incident, when my dad told me explicitly, that I might have added to her stress. Dad wasn't the only one; my older brother used to tell me that I (again, "unwittingly") used to put all kinds of pressure on mom. I didn't see it then, but do now. Now I see my fiance worrying about her adult (20 yr. old) daughter going out alone, and I understand.

There are alot more stories to be told about my life at 48 W. 73rd St. As I find the words to articulate them, I'll be writing them. This is what NEXTLEAV is for, after all. The personal side, and other stuff I wouldn't post on LEAVWORLD. Hope it's interesting, and helpful.

Seen and Not Seen

2005-10-25T23:05:00.000-07:00

I got this in an email, and don't know who wrote it. Damn good, though.

Subject: To my friends and family: From a Mc Comb Resident

What I have seen since Katrina:

The poor and the wealthy hurt by the storm.

Black, White, Hispanic, Oriental and Indian all hurt by the storm.

Christian people giving, giving, giving.

Churches going all out to minister in Jesus' name.

Neighbors going door to door helping one another.

Thugs and hoodlums going door to door looking for someone vulnerable.

Ice and water being fought over as police tried to keep the peace.

People coming up from New Orleans taking over empty houses because shelters are full.

Out of town volunteers coming with food and staying for now a week still serving it.

The Churches all ! over this part of the country doing what Christians do in a crisis.

The Red Cross doing a great job in the shelters.

The Salvation Army doing a great job in the community.

Four Hundred crewman from everywhere bring back the power to our homes, churches and businesses.

Lines at service stations a block to a mile long.

National Guardsman patrolling the streets of Mc Comb along with Kentucky policemen protecting us from the hoodlums and thugs of Mc Comb, Pike County and New Orleans (the most dangerous city in the world before Katrina.)

Drug dealers working outside shelters.

Doctors, nurses and other hospital personnel working tirelessly, even sleeping in the hospital to do the job God called them to do.

WHAT I HAVE NOT SEEN;

The ACLU setting up a feeding line.

People for the American Way helping in the shelters.

The NAACP doing any work whatsoever.

The American Atheist organization serving meals in the shelters.

Jesse Jackson directing traffic at the gas stations.

I could go on but you get my message. Its the people with love and compassion who do the work.

The gripers in Congress should come on down and get in line to pass the water and the ice. Are you listening Hillary, Chuck, Teddy and all the sorry loafers we call Senators and Congressmen. They don't have a clue as to what this life is all about here on the Gulf Coast.

Boy I feel better now.

WEST IS A DIRECTION, WESTERN IS ALL CULTURES' DIRECTION

2005-09-21T01:58:00.000-07:00

This could be pure nonsense, but why was the USSR considered "the Eastern block," though some of those Eastern nations now join many Far Eastern nations as part of the West, and our current war is about "Westernizing the Middle East?" I propose a geographic analogy:

These terms (North, South, East, and West) were coined before men knew the world was round. West was, and still is, a direction that one can travel; eventually we learned that travelling ever Westward can bring one back to the same point on Earth. The same goes for East, North, and South, or any other direction one can imagine, of course. West, however, has morphed into a cultural term. It now represents or influences cultures literally around the globe, some with very different histories than those originating "the West" as a culture.

Why has the West been so successful at changing so much of the world? Why is Eastern Europe so much more "Westernized" than Western Europe these days? Why do the Islaofascists in the Middle East plot terror against "Western" infidels, and rail against their influence? Because, much like West is a direction on the map, it has become a direction in human culture, including international politics. The general direction is toward greater individual freedom, but as in my geographic analogy, travelling too far "West" can bring a nation right back to oppression of individuals' rights that it was trying to escape. This has become a problem in the U.S, as well as much of Western Europe. Policies claiming to be "of public benefit" threaten to strangle individual freedoms, and the legal abdication of personal responsibility in favor of "deep pockets" lawsuits or "social justice" helps propagate these policies. The U.S, as the leading Western nation, should be on the forefront, fighting to curtail abuses of it's own government bureaucracy against citizens, especially (but not solely) those of the judicial branch.

But I digress.

Successful countries adopt Western policies that enhance their productivity first, as Japan, Taiwan, and others have done, with political freedoms following in each case. Not every society takes a "due West" course. Each nation that "Westernizes" does so differently. China is an example of a nation that has adopted Western economic policies, while maintaining a Communist dictatorship. This will test the theory of economic freedom bringing about political freedom. While China poses a major threat, it is not as great as the Soviets presented at the height of the Cold War. Right now, we must take care of the business at hand in Afghanistan and Iraq, and insure that these countries move in a western direction, expanding individual freedoms. To do any less invites enlarging the suffering in those nations, and adding to the next potential threat to "the West," regardless of how many here at home hate that idea. The internal opponents of the "West" only have the luxury of hating the West because of the freedoms provided them under Western free speech policies, so they really don't have a valid argument against "Westernization."

ATTACKS BY STRANGERS

2005-06-07T02:05:00.001-07:00

After hearing the sad story about a young woman on L.I. who was attacked after asking for directions from, and getting in the car, of a stranger, I remember a similar situation that happened to me a few blocks from the same place in 1978 or so. I was 15, and had just walked a drunk friend home, when a stranger in a car asked directions to a street on the other side of town. Being drunk myself, I got in his car, with the assurance that he would give me a ride back to my house, which was in between where we were and where he was going. Unfortunately, I directed him to the wrong street, and when I remembered which street to go to, he had other ideas. He offered me money to give me oral sex, which I declined. As I unlocked the door of his car (while moving), he reached over, locked it, and wrapped his arm around my neck. I punched him in the face, unlocked and opened the car door, and jumped out, safely skidding to a stop on the fresh snow in the street. I broke off the nearest street-level tree branch, and ran along side of the closest house, waiting for him to reappear. After a while, I started walking home, meeting some friends in a car who gave me a ride. I told them this story, because it wasn't anything more than something to talk about, having survived it unscathed. A few years later, I found another friend had been accosted by the same fat black guy with glasses, in the same white car. My friend used his large pocket knife to get out of his situation, without having to actually use it violently.

Serial rapists/pedophiles come in all sexual orientations, and have been around since before anyone reading this was born. Women aren't the only ones at risk. Everyone thinks about how bad the kids are today, but there is always some adult who is worse. Look at my anecdotal story. I, and one of my friends fought this guy off, but how many times was he successful? Where are those kids now? I'm scared of today's adult predators, which is an alarm worth ringing. Let's hope today's kids are as up to fighting them off as my friend and I were.

BAR ART GALLERY

2005-04-25T22:11:00.000-07:00

WLCOME TO LEAV'S BAR ART GALLERY! These pieces were drawn on coasters, napkins, and scrap paper at a number of local bars. Some aren't that good, but worth a laugh.

BUG-EYED SKULL MONSTER

ALIEN SPACE CREATURE

SELF-PORTRAIT '99

BAR HEART: WHEN SYMBOLS ATTACK

DEMON PIRATE

KISS VAMPIRE

LIZARD KING

WOLVERINE

DINOSAUR

BIRD-MONSTER

MUTE

NEXTLEAVWORLD: POLITICAL ARTWORK!

2005-04-24T01:14:00.000-07:00

MY POLITICAL ART ARCHIVE

DEAN & GORE - THE LIBERAL SIDESHOW

KERRY is DUKAKIS... I TOLD YOU SO!

I'M A REPUBLICAN, NOT A RACIST!

THREE RELIGIONS UNDER ONE FLAG!

THE DEATH SQUAD'S PRESENT TO THE U.N!

WARRIOR W PART I

WARRIOR W PART II

WARRIOR W PART III

THEY CAME TO DIE. WE DIDN'T.

SADDAM, OSAMA, ARAFAT are BLOOD BROTHERS, DEATH TO THEM ALL!

JO HURT: Art and Audio Clip of Mom singing "ZIP"

2005-03-29T08:51:00.000-08:00

My late mother was a Broadway actress in the '50's, before I was born. Her stage name was Jo Hurt, and the high point of her career was in 1950, when she appeared in "Pal Joey." I found a page on Amazon.com with a short audio clip, and thought I'd share it. My Godmother, Elaine Stritch, is currently appearing at Lincoln Center in NYC, though I haven't seen her in over 20 years. She also recorded "ZIP" in 1952, on a different cast recording. This link is to the page with my mom's version. Just click on the "samples" link, then pick the song "ZIP" when you get there. That's my mom!

This is a Jon Whitcomb painting of her, done in the early 1950's. It was altered to look like a Cosmopolitan magazine cover by her agent.

...and this is a sketch of her from 1945, done on the Pacific USO tour with Bob Hope.

I'm really proud of her, and it's nice to show it.

LEAVART: LONE WOLF!

2005-03-26T01:09:00.000-08:00

These are links to all of the LONE WOLF art on my LEAVART site. New posts will be linked.

LONE WOLF
-Comic, page One
-as STARWOLF!
-T-Shirt Design (April 1983)
-Blood Trail
-LONE WOLF DESIGNS composite
-with EVERYBODY, under LONE WOLF DESIGNS
-CHRISTMAS WEREWOLF, with bloodshot blue eyes!
-GOLD WOLF?
-"12 DAYS OF THE CHRISTMAS WEREWOLF"