NY TIMES CRITIC - No Fun Steakhouse in NYC - and where's a good CONCENTRATION CAMP?

Not enough bloodlust in fun city?

The New York Times food critic (who apparently uses a crotchety old Muppet man for an avatar so that restaurants won't identify him when he sits down) gave ZERO stars to a famous murder-for-fun place. Er, steakhouse.

In another century, when blacks didn't have their Civil Rights and gays couldn't marry and women couldn't sue for sexual abuse at the workplace, STEAK HOUSES were very popular.

What could be better for some obnoxious blubber-lipped accountant, or a group of sleazy hedge fund weasels, or guffawing loudmouth bankers or sports personalities, than to go to a STEAK HOUSE?

"THICK, MEDIUM RARE, smothered in onions and mushrooms...and POTATOES. No string beans! And let's start with BEER!"

Top it off with a stinking cigar afterwards.

Somehow, this is not everybody's idea of a good time anymore. Having a heart attack and a stroke reduces your ability to throw your weight around at the office.

Just as the Nuremburg Trials and documentary footage of concentration camps took some of the joy out of "The Final Solution," it seems that common sense and a few photos have led people to understand the brutality and stupidity that is involved with putting a steak on your plate.

Cows, sheep and pigs are not very different from cats, dogs and horses. They are intelligent. They can be loyal. They can feel pain.

If you wouldn't kill your cat and have it for dinner, why do that to a rabbit or a lamb?

Why not do it to your next door neighbor? Or as Michael Flanders pointed out (in "The Reluctant Cannibal") if we aren't supposed to eat people, why are we made out of meat?

The bottom line is we should do what we can. Most people don't want to look at PETA's horror pictures. They don't want to read Rolling Stone when the article is about pig shit leaking into and polluting lakes near hog farms. They usually prefer their meat to NOT look like where it came from. Better that it be a burger instead.

No, I do NOT walk around in plastic shoes. But I don't eat meat. It took a while. Same for Paul McCartney who sat on his farm eating some lamb. He looked out at his flock of sheep and realized, "I'm eating somebody's shoulder."

We mourn a lot of traditions, and we fret that we are losing some good old customs. We can do without steak houses. Just like we can do without concentration camps.

Halloween Horror Comedy in "THE BATHROOM THAT YOU SHARE"

Here's a link to another track from my album "HA HA HALLOWEEN."

The album was originally going to appear as one of the first releases from the new label ACCIDENT RECORDS.

Their slogan: "If It's Worth Hearing, It' an ACCIDENT."

But seriously folks...the idea was that a Halloween concept album would trump (pardon the expression) any problem about me not being a household word (like Drano).

The label managed to issue an album by Tom Christopher (who wasn't a household word either) but that was it. It was nice to be encouraged by ANY label, as I wouldn't have knocked off a Baker's dozen of songs otherwise. (A few ultimately did not make the cut, as I do have some kind of editorial judgment).

THE BATHROOM THAT YOU SHARE

Oh look who my warm-up act is THIS time:

Dear Bernie Sanders...I'm extremely flattered that you chose MY fans to be YOUR fans, and that you figured you'd reach your target audience by sponsoring "The Bathroom That You Share."

Every vote counts.

[I have no idea if Bernie will be talking to you when YOU listen to my novelty song. Kamala Harris might've out-bid him, or Mayor Pete. Or it could be an ad for bathroom tissue.]

I've been reading Elton John's autobiography. As you probably know, he didn't work WITH Bernie Taupin. Bernie gave him lyrics, and he went off and put music to them. Sometimes, as with "Your Song," the entire melody came to him as he eyed the words for the first time.

With Gary Osborne, it was the reverse. Gary wanted to hear Elton's melodies and then put words to them.

Me? Sometimes I don't do EITHER of those things. I rarely write a melody and put lyrics to it, but in the case of THIS song and a few others on "Ha Ha Halloween," I didn't put music to lyrics I'd written.

"The Bathroom That You Share" started out as a parody. A friend of mine, who has issued quite a few albums, inspired me to goof around and put some novelty lyrics to a few of his tunes. Some were highly personal, making fun of his then girlfriend, or his boss, but others were more generic.

As it turned out, a few of them were pretty good, but since the music was already spoken for, what now? I went back and wrote my own music to the parody lyrics.

Apparently this IS a technique that some artists use once in a while. Nick Lowe took Chuck Berry's "You Can Never Tell," and turned it into "I Knew The Bride When She Used to Rock and Roll." By the time I was done being "creative" with it, there were enough changes to make it a legitimate original work.

It was said that George Harrison could've avoid a lawsuit on "My Sweet Lord" (aka "He's So Fine") if he'd listened to some good advice and altered a few notes here and there. But who knows, Neil Innes still got into trouble for doing Rutles songs that sounded TOO much like Beatles songs.

James Taylor? Leonard Cohen? It's the American Singer-Songwriter Werewolf!

I love my label...I love my label...

And I'm on the same label as some rather obscure people that I collected years ago: Gunhill Road, Marsha Malamet, Raun MacKinnon, Ron Nagle...

Great. I'm thinking, "wouldn't it be great if one day I got signed to Mercury, Decca, Kapp or Warner Bros. like these idiosyncratic people I admire?"

Now we're all on CD Baby. Wah!

What? It's HALLOWEEN time again...time to feebly "network" and mention that I put out a Halloween novelty album cleverly titled "Ha Ha Halloween."

AN AMERICAN SINGER-SONGWRITER WEREWOLF And that link takes you to the world of the forlorn jerk with a guitar who wants to be a star. (God help the troubadour).

He's the typical sensitive schmuck who sits under a tree in a park, strums, and hopes this will be a magnet attracting a curious female. One who doesn't LOOK too curious, but is deeply IMPRESSED with somebody singing...

Hmmm, how about "Wild World" by Cat Stevens? The opening notes to "Stairway to Heaven?"

Maybe something by Neil Young, Leonard Cohen or James Taylor...or...

The werewolf morphs into those guys, and subtly (or not) swipes notes from his idols' most famous songs. Several more famous singers get auditioned as our hero tries to figure out who to imitate for maximum carnal profit.

As I recall the last time I performed this, the biggest laugh was when I turned into Neil Diamond. Yes, I even broke into some vibrato for that one. Somehow I missed doing a chorus of "Sweet Caroline, OI OI OI," but you can hear that at most any British boxing match, for reasons that are totally spooky, if not downright creepy and perplexing.

OH..."constant interruptions are the disruption of the imagination..."

How amusing that before you can hear me, YouTube, owned by Google, who make more money in a minute than I do in a year, stuck in a commercial for a writing course. Why DID they choose THAT?

Joyce Carol Oates, do you have any idea you're my warm-up act? The least you could've done was tell a joke.

Is she still shilling? Maybe by now they switched to some other 10 second commercial??

As Rod Serling used to say..."submitted for your approval..."

Josip Elic - "I'm Tried!" (Right, USA TODAY, who needs stinkin' proofreaders?)

The man was probably known, if at all, for speaking TWO WORDS in a movie.

Naturally, USA Today had to stick a typo in one of them.

On the positive side, it's nice that on a slow news day (some ISIS asshole finally blew himself up) the death of a 98 year-old bit-part actor got the attention it did.

Elic was also fortunate that in the world of memorabilia conventions, and fanboy worship, he could sit at a table and get $20 (or perhaps more) for signing his name on a photo from "The Twilight Zone" (he appeared briefly in two episodes) "The Producers" (brief moment) or "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest."

Who knows, if he had a wily Fred Wostbrock-type of manager sitting next to him at the table, it would be: "OK, $20 for him to sign his name, another $20 to personalize, and on that "Cuckoos Nest" still, another $20 to add his catch-phrase, "I'm Tired."

Yes, USA TODAY, it's "I'm Tired," not "I'm Tried." You'd think that online newspapers, too cheap to have proofreaders, would at least have a "report typo link" on every page, and a way to update and remove mistakes quickly.

He looked in very good shape in that photo, taken less than a year ago. Apparently some of the credit might go to the bombastic Lee Meredith, who has probably signed many a movie still from "The Sunshine Boys" and "The Producers." Let's just add that she was even more amazing in person, and could've been a reason why Jackie Mason's "A Teaspoon Every 4 Years" managed 99 preview performances on Broadway: let's NOT close the show when there's a chance to take a look at Lee Meredith!"

Hopefully USA Today or some other online newspaper will interview Lee for one reason or another...talking about Mel Brooks, Benny Hill, Jackie Mason, and her iconic movie appearances. Let's just hope they don't quote her line in "The Producers" playing the receptionist, as: "Bialystock and Boom!"

HALLOWEEN 2019 - Some Suggestions

It’s SO hard to be completely politically correct. You need a scorecard.

Or how about a plastic blue pumpkin with a message on it, to let you know that there are caring, sensitive people in the world and YOU are not one of them. So get with it.

Now, REMEMBER, if a strange looking ADULT comes to your door with a BLUE plastic pumpkin, that means he’s autistic, and just like any other adult, except he’s out playing Trick or Treat.

He is most definitely NOT an impersonator who just got a BLUE plastic pumpkin to fool you.

He’s also not Adam Lanza, who was just like everybody else, except he shot his mother and then went to a school and shot up everyone. Somebody like THAT might be autistic but would NOT be carrying around a blue plastic pumpkin. He’d be carrying an AK-15. Big difference.

Behind the adult with the BLUE plastic pumpkin might be an adult simply going around collecting money for a charity you never heard of. Don’t be a GRINCH and demand to see proof the charity exists. Trust that this person is legit. All you have to lose is some money.

Next, when the kiddies come around, be aware that SOME might be VEGAN, and SOME might be vegetarian and SOME might have peanut allergies and SOME might take offense if you offer something racist (WHITE Hostess Sno-Balls) or sexist (ladyfingers) or offensive to Muslims (ever hear of HALVAH as an alternative to a Snickers bar? Look into it.)

Killer Clowns and Joker outfits. Don't be alarmed. They are reflecting the anxieties of today's culture: that not everybody finds violence hilarious.

Remember that 6 and 7 year-olds are completely mature, have their personalities hot-wired, and know exactly what they are. If they choose to wear a sheet and go as a ghost, they are GENDER NEUTRAL. Don’t say “are you a little boy or a little girl?” If it’s not a sheet at all, but a totally black Ninja outfit, and the person is holding a pressure cooker, wait until they put the pressure cooker down, and start running, before making a decision on whether or not to close the door. Chances are it won’t matter by then, as your door will be 100 feet in the sky, and so will you.

Planning not to be home on Halloween? Now, why wouldn’t you want to be part of the fun?

Golly, My Trendy People - Harvey Weinstein is HERE? What...do we...doooooooooooo?

There was some kind of trendy-party event that SOME people HAD to be seen at.

Off in a corner, sitting a a table with a few like-minded hangers-on, was the disgraced Harvey Weinstein.

You remember Harvey?

You also remember United States law? Innocent until proven guilty?

So, this power-mad sex-crazed slob is watching this D-list event, and some stand-up comic nobody heard of got up and made a comment about Harvey being in the room. Instead of applause, she got a heckle of "Shut Up."

Next up, a whats-it decided to get into the act. As you know, if you've had the misery of visiting a public bathroom, ANYONE can come in, wearing ANY insane outfit, declaring that they "IDENTIFY" with YOUR gender. Even if this is a delusional farce.

When inmates run the asylum, they can do as they please.

This whats-it, who prefers a neutral gender identity, and is SO arrogant and egotistical that only the PLURAL will do, is a "THEY."

Here's what happened:

Got that? In a variation on the royal WE, a D-list THEY decided to confront Weinstein and make a stink.

This is in America, by the way.

The new free speech is to be able to verbally accost anyone. Go ahead, get in their space. March around a restaurant chanting slogans about your issue. Harass people. Do unto others and then leave.

Also have the freedom to make a newspaper waste a little extra time and ink explaining why YOU want to be a THEY instead of a SHE, HE or even an IT.

What's the take-away from this non-event? That Weinstein is already a prisoner and should be under house arrest? A judge didn't think so. That Weinstein, and EVERYONE in that room needed to pass some kind of security test before being allowed in? Well, at a private club, any "velvet rope" event, people CAN be excluded based on their looks. Otherwise, too bad. Might as well do the unthinkable, and vet all the employees to see which ones might ALREADY have a CRIMINAL RECORD or be on PROBATION and therefore, should be shunned and starved with sanctions, and forced to leave the country or something.

On the bright side, some grinning publicity whore idiot got her picture all over the Internet and in the paper:

This woman (she DOES want to be a woman, not an IT or a THEY or an asparagus) had a solution. Had she KNOWN that an activist would be uncomfortable with Weinstein (or a non-vegan cheese, or air not scented with burning cinnamon sticks), the activist would be allowed to grab a microphone and reach out. Speak out. Give vent. Verbalize. Express an opinion. Bore everyone. Have a special privilege.

Surely, this is going to be the wave of the future? Anyone who doesn't like the dinner should be able to get a microphone, say some bad comments about the chef in front of all the other diners, DROP MIC, and leave?

Surely, anyone who attends a Broadway show and thinks an important point about Syrian refugees hasn't been covered, should be given a microphone and allowed to sing a protest song?

Whatever happened to...if you don't like it, WALK OUT? QUIETLY? Both you, yourself, and, referring to both her asshole and your brain, which are inter-changeable, THEY?

That new Cirque Du Soleil Bear Act

They're working on it...

The idea is to branch out of Vegas, and present impromptu shows in rural areas. Reach out and bring entertainment to those who really need it.

"They'll eat it up," somebody said. I think this was referring to the bears.

Garry Shandling, JACK DAVIS cover... RAVE MAGAZINE

Mr. Shandling signed the cover of RAVE...

(You can find more stuff about RAVE, including photos, autographs and other memorabilia on my website, RonaldLSmith.com)

Doing interviews and taking photos of the great comedians was a highlight of editing RAVE.

Getting JACK DAVIS to do a cover was also a great moment.

RAVE, "The Playbill of the Comedy Clubs" was associated with ABC's "Comedy Awards" show (produced by George Schlatter).

Our role was to handle the awards for best new comedian (male and female) working the comedy clubs.

At the time, the local clubs were THE place to find new talent: Sam Kinison, Jerry Seinfeld, Brett Butler, Ellen Degeneres, Roseanne Barr, Tim Allen, Bill Maher and so many more. Many were jumping from a "Catch a Rising Star" gig to an HBO special, a movie role or even a TV series.

We stuck ballots in the SPECIAL ISSUE, so that comedy club patrons all over the country could vote for their favorite.

With ABC involved, and ads fattening up the magazine, I thought it would be a great idea to spend some money and have a really eye-catching cover. The ONLY name I wanted was JACK DAVIS.

MAD magazine. The "MAD MAD MAD MAD WORLD" movie poster (among many others). Tons of the comedy albums in my collection (including a whole lotta Homer & Jethro). They ALL had Jack Davis art. I wanted it, too.

Fortunately, we could afford him.

The twin regrets? First off, all the details were handled by our art director, so I didn't get a chance to talk to Jack. He didn't live in New York, so he never dropped by the office with his finished creation

Second? We didn't own the art. Jack Davis did. Where the original is now, I have no idea. At least, it exists because I wanted it to exist. That check we sent to Jack Davis was at least partial payback for all the joy and wonder and laughter he gave me over the years.

Vote for the Presidential Candidate with the Cool Nickname-First Name

Or not.

Another good thing: if your last name is odd, don't ask that voters be ADULT and learn how to pronounce it. Call yourself "Mayor Pete" instead.

When you get threats from North Korea, Russia, Syria, Turkey, Nigeria, Somalia and Iran, just put on your cowboy outfit and say "You're talking to PRESIDENT PETE!" That should hold 'em.

Oh. Maybe vote for the colorful codger. Vote for your elementary school teacher. Vote for somebody "of color."

Vote for somebody you know as a reality TV host.

Vote for somebody QUALIFIED??? Hmmmmmmmmmm....

Oh, the Nauseating Penis - and forming an attachment

Did you hear about the guy who got his penis blown off?

No, not THAT way.

It was, unfortunately a soldier, who stepped on a bomb and lost his legs, too. But really, the more important thing would be the penis. Which is why he sought out a penis transplant. So far it hasn't been rejected (by his body or anyone else's). With luck more mala-dicked guys will have succor. But all seriousness aside, what's up with the last paragraph here?

Practicing penis attachment, AD NAUSEUM?

What else? "He studied gynecology, AD NAUSEUM.

"He studied acid reflux disease and seasickness, AD NAUSEUM...

"At the moment, the patient does not have a penis," he said predictably...

Hemingway, Faulkner and Fitzgerald -- wouldn't even get REVIEWED today. WOMEN ONLY

They call it PC. It's pretty crummy, isn't it?

It's OK. OVER KILL. One example of it is Senator Al Franken no longer a senator. Huh? He posed for a GAG photo? He gave a hug to a few women who were drooling and fawning to get a photo op with him? Jeeez.

What's going on now is a lot of reverse racism, reverse sexism, exclusionary revenge and really, just the same kind of preening, clique-ridden nastiness that WASPs have been accused of for hundreds of years.

Whoever is in power is going to favor their own, and right now, it's #METOO and FUCK YOU. You guys, you had it coming, so now...forget about getting your books reviewed. Oh, maybe if you're a black guy. White guy? NO.

Are there any white guys even on the staff of PEOPLE and TIME? In a position of power? In a position to say, "Hey, reviewing a few books by guys wouldn't be a bad idea..." NO.

Jamie Lee Curtis (she's a book critic because she's got a vagina, apparently) was chosen to dish on summer reading. She picked ONLY female authors:

What's the excuse here? Most people who buy books are women? Really? Women are the only ones who bought Hemingway, Faulkner, Fitzgerald, Camus, Wouk, Michener and all the others who were ONCE on the best seller list and NOW wouldn't even get a book deal? Because they're not women? Women of color? Or at least black guys or gay guys?

Here's Time magazine, October 14th, with a FEMALE critic giving a full page to a FEMALE author. (This was the issue with Kamala Harris on the cover, because mentioning a male Presidential candidate is SO uncool.)

Pick out random back issues of People, Time, or the awful Entertainment Weekly. It's the same deal. WOMEN ONLY. People magazine reviewing ONLY women:

TIME back in August:

September 30th 2019. TIME devotes two pages to TIME OFF BOOKS. Or, FUCK OFF, GUYS, as it should be called.

Reviewer JOSHUNDA SANDERS highlighted three books, ALL by women: Jacqueline Woodson and Tea Obreht. First off, it's possible to give succinct reviews on five or six books over two pages and at least let MORE women authors get a good blurb they can sell. It wouldn't kill anyone if ONE book was written by a male. But here we are, a female reviewer going on and on about two other women.

"...Teen pregancy is often treated like a tragedy in narratives of black life, but the lens here is more realistic: life goes on." In that case, why read about it? "Iris falls for someone, a sexy and smart young woman who stirs her more than any man ever has..." Oh, ok, now we've got a black lesbian angle to this fabulous novel. SOLD!

But not to very many men, but then again, FUCK YOU, guys. You know you still got Stephen King squatting a brick every year with some dopey horror thing. You can read a few look-alike spy books or something. Is Follett still alive? Scott Turow probably knocks something out once in a while, or Robert Crais. Good enough for ya, and they don't need reviews because for Father's Day, that's what you get Dad. (Nobody wears a tie anymore).

White authors. FUCK YOU. Is this any way to treat...a minority?

Yes, a MINORITY.

Time Magazine, October 21 2019 issue, page 38:

"People of color...make up nearly 40% of the U.S. population."

This may even include colored people. (When are they going to re-dub Stevie Wonder singing "they don't use colored people" to make it more politically correct?)

Add that 51% of the population is FEMALE, and suddenly, Mr. White Guy is actually Mr. Minority.

In the same issue of Time, they ran a helpful, hopeful piece on "Next Generation Leaders: 10 Rising Stars Who are Changing the World in politics, sports, fashion and more."

That list featured: STORMZY (black), SELLY RABY KANE (black female), AORI NISHIMURA (Asian female), LINA KHAN (female), PABLLO VITAR (of color male drag queen), AMANDA JOHNSTONE (female), ZAINAB FASIKI (female), ALEXANDER GORBUNOV (a YouTube white male), DAVONE TINES (black male) and BRIAN GITTA (black male).

Mr. White Guy represented only 10% on that list.

What we have here is a misconception that white guys are a majority, and worse, when Mr. White Guy cedes control and hires blacks, people of color, women...they'll turn around and hire their own and maybe even find a way to get Mr. White Guy kicked out entirely.

Know what? That's not really racism, sexism, genderism, it's human nature. People are rotten. Every one. White people are the only Imperialists? The only ones to take away land and act superior to the natives? Explain how the borders of South America or Africa got to be the way they are, or what's with China and Burma, or North Korea and Japan. Every race and every religion is the same in one way: they're selfish, self-important, bigoted toward their own, and rotten.

Are there exceptions? Few. One of them would be ME. Among the first books I wrote were "Cosby" (that's about a black guy) and "Sweethearts of 60s TV" (about 16 women). Why did I do that? Because I loved Cosby when I was a kid. I bought his albums. When he made his comeback with his sitcom about the Huxtable family, I wanted to research how this kid from the projects in Philadelphia became a star. I persuaded my publisher to let me follow with "Sweethearts of 60's TV," which explored the pioneering female role models who were liberated (Emma Peel, Honey West), and going out into the workplace (Ann Marie aka "That Girl" and Mary Richards).

Nobody told me "be politically correct, be a #metoo proponent." It came naturally to me. But being the exact opposite comes naturally to a lot more people. They hire their own, their only interested in their own, and they show no tolerance, curiosity or empathy for others.

Is it such a big surprise that power corrupts? What would be the odds of a black lesbian book reviewer choosing to review something by a straight white guy? What for? Besides, people of color, and gays need books they can relate to, and they sure can't do it by reading old shit from Hemingway, Faulkner, Fitzgerald and THAT bunch. I got it.

I used to be a book reviewer. Chicago Tribune among others. If it interested me, I reviewed it. I was certainly NOT going to review some sappy hen's romance paperback. But if Edna O'Brien had a new one out, or Ann Beattie, or someone else who wasn't a dunce like pudgy E.L. James, I'd take a look. In fact, IF I'M BEING HONEST (as Piers Morgan loves to say), I actually had a bias TOWARD creative women. Know why? I know how a guy thinks. I'm more curious about the female point of view. So yes, I would read "A Tree Grows In Brooklyn" by Betty Smith (no relation) as well as "City Boy" by Herman Wouk. PS, Betty did ok for herself didn't she? So did Harper Lee. Suddenly we have to make a SPECIAL EFFORT to ONLY publish and review works by women?

Here's TIME, July 1, 2019.

As usual, a female reviewer only reviews women and "the girls of summer" who have written books that everyone would want to read...NOT AT ALL. Not "Supper Club...dissatisified women reclaim their bodies in an unlikely club." Doesn't sound like 'Fight Club' does it? How about "Four sisters reflect on their past?" Riveting?

Mort Sahl used to say "women don't think too big." Not when they're considered with the "sisterhood." Or traveling pants. Maybe Ayn Rand thought big and Atlas shrugged? Today the playing field is not even and guys are being flattened and disregarded. If it's not a horror novel by Stephen King, it's not going to be reviewed.

Faulkner, Hemingway and Fitzgerald? They don't stand a chance when a reviewer like the one above, references Bronte, Loos and Mary McCarthy. Who are more important now? Time to throw out the WHITE MAN and his literature. The revision is that these guys weren't very good then, and are meaningless now. Do you doubt that some little bint is going to stand up in an English 101 class and demand the ban of "The Scarlett Letter?" She'll pipe up with: "A man wrote this! A MAN. What does Hawthorne know about a woman's body? How DARE he write about a Scarlett Letter?" And what's her choice to replace the Hawthorne book? "How about the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants!!!"

Am I that far from the truth? I don't think I am. Am I being asked to review books for major newspapers and magazines like I sued to? No, I am NOT.

Suggest that white male authors should at least have a MINORITY's share of the pie, and ONE in SIX books reviewed over two pages of TIME and PEOPLE be reserved for them, and it's blasphemy. If you mention Hemingway, Fitzgerald and Faulkner (and I promise NOT to do it again) you'll be countered by ANGELOU, MORRISON and WALKER. And damn, if you don't add Hurston, Butler, Giovanni or Hansberry, you a racist, and an ignorant fish-eyed fool, too.

Isn't it odd and rather disgusting, that at one time, nobody even gave a rat's ass about such matters? They really didn't. Truman Capote was as flamingly gay as you could get, and he wrote "In Cold Blood" and people bought it because he was a good writer, PERIOD. They bought Gore Vidal and Allen Ginsberg, too. They bought Angelou and Morrison and Walker, too. And James Baldwin. The book world was, at one time, pretty open and liberal and non-exclusionary. So WHAT happened?

I might write a book wondering what happened to the white heterosexual writer, and why Henry Miller or D.H. Lawrence or Philip Roth are nowhere to be found and pudgy E.L. James gets an entire table for her idiotic garbage. (PS, Anais Nin and Pauline Reage were better and nobody made a big deal about it). Yes, I could write a book...but I don't have 7 syllables in my first name, I'm not gay, not of color, not female...so forget about it being reviewed, it wouldn't even be published.

And that's why there are blogs. (And gee, you didn't have to pay to read this. And I didn't get paid for writing it. What a perfect world.)

A little Wite-Out can make PAGE SIX a bit more interesting

Sex Change Operations

Political Horrors #5236

Pretty Boy Ronan -- only attacks heteros and doesn't write his own stuff?

Matt Lauer penned a stiff rebuke on charges in Ronan Farrow's new book.

Ronan, he of the strawberry blond hair, and pink bow lips, and the journalistic pedigree of being Woody Allen's son (maybe), states that an NBC co-worker was raped by Lauer.

Lauer offered a public and pubic statement that yes, he had this woman orally, vaginally AND anally the first time they ever met, BUT it was consensual AND they had plenty of other "trysts" afterward. He said that her personality changed only after he broke up with her, and she's how vindictive.

Well, "vindictive" is one of the key words in the #METOO movement, isn't it? It's tainted the movement. A prime example os "vindictive" Kirsten Jellybrain, or whatever her name is. She's the junior Senator from New York who pressured Al Franken into resigning...so she'd have a much clearer pathway to political stardom. It backfired for her.

Will it ever backfire for Pretty Boy Ronan?

The guy who needs a CO-WRITER? The NY Post today had an article about how his CO-WRITER is supporting him (what a surprise) in backing up what's in the book THEY wrote.

When we talk about crusading journalists, we don't generally mention somebody with virtually no experience, who got high-profile jobs only because his famous mommy greased the wheels for him.

What kind of Social Justice Warrior for the truth — couldn't even be honest about who his father is?

You might remember that the first time Pretty Boy won national celebrity, it was after Mama Mia smirked and declared that Woody Allen probably wasn't Ronan's father...and that it was more likely FRANK SINATRA.

One might forgive Mia Farrow for being slightly dramatic. She's an actress, and she's had a history of erratic behavior. Fine, she wants to claim that a man who was old and impotent at the time Ronan was conceived, is Ronan's father? And she'd like to embarrass and humiliate Sinatra's widow Barbara in the process? Surely the great Truth Seeker, Pretty Boy Ronan, is going to set the reporters straight.

No, nothing "straight" about the Pretty Boy. Rather than say, "Look, Mom is a bit high strung," or "I really hate Woody Allen so much, I'd rather keep everyone guessing..." he coyly double-talked an answer. "Listen, we're all possibly Frank Sinatra's son."

The response was neither professional nor very witty. Which might suggest he's not Woody Allen's son, as Woody Allen is a wit, and is enough of a writer to have churned out three books' worth of humor for "The New Yorker" and dozens of movie scripts. Woody's mild answer to all of this was: "I paid for child support for him for his whole childhood, and I don’t think that’s very fair if he’s not mine."

Once Pretty Boy became a "star" in the media, he dropped one fact. It wasn't that he was Sinatra's son. It was that he was gay.

What a surprise.

What would be more of a surprise is if he starts going after anyone gay who has done something wrong. You know, like Kevin Spacey. So far, Farrow's been very diligent after going after hetero Jews (Woody Allen, Harvey Weinstein, Matt Lauer) but has been remarkably silent on homosexual Gentiles. He's also not gone after James Levine. The maestro's story would make for a good cautionary full-length book on how adult males often prey on vulnerable young males who are unsure of their sexuality or find the allure of fame and fortune worth a fondle or two.

Like everything else crooked and easy to subvert and pervert, the #MeToo movement has been flawed, and there's been some kangaroo courts hopping mad at the wrong people, and pushing people out of their jobs based on the mildest charges (most certainly in the case of Al Franken, and one would question Jeffrey Tambor's crimes, etc. etc.)

Farrow (and his CO-WRITER) are getting a lot of ink for this tell-all book about NBC. Pretty Boy has become quite a personality, which only makes it easier and easier for him to get spoon-fed "leaks" and "tips" from people eager to see their ex-friends and colleagues get ruined. Real journalists break their own stories, have a "nose for news," and dig down deep even if things get dangerous and ugly. But dangerous and ugly isn't what Pretty Boy Farrow is about. He's had it easy ever since Mama Mia played her nepotism games, and it'll be an easy road for him in the future. As long as it's a road that ruins other people, he's pursing his pink lips and smiling all the way to the bank.

Patti Smith, Peter Gabriel, Roger Waters - and 2 Dead Jews on Yom Kippur

Patti Smith.

Peter Gabriel.

Roger Waters.

Can you be completely sure you didn't have something to do with the synagogue murders on Yom Kippur in Germany?

How about...a rabbit cold-cocked by a sudden punch on a Brooklyn street in America?

An old Jewish woman kicked by a chav in England?

Something triggers anti-Semitic attacks.

As should've been obvious from The Holocaust and Hitler, a big trigger is the need for a scapegoat.

Point the finger, say "THIS is the source of your groubles" and add: "GET 'EM!"

That's what Hitler did.

That's what people do all the time, and to this day. "The Gypsy King" Tyson Fury raged that THE JEWS were the enemy:

“Listen to the government, follow everybody like sheep, be brainwashed by all the Zionist, Jewish people who own all the banks, all the papers all the TV stations. Be brainwashed by them all.”

A quick check of who owns banks would reveal that the Chinese, Japanese, Swiss, Arabs and various others own the most successful banks these days.

Ilhan Omar, praised for being one of the first Muslims elected to office in America, instantly attacked the Jews and Israel:

"Israel has hypnotized the world, may Allah awaken the people and help them see the evil doings of Israel.”

She doubled-down with her infamous "it's all about The Benjamins, baby."

Buzzfeednews.com pointed out, after quoting those lines from Omar:

"Unfortunately, history shows that you can’t undo the spreading of rhetoric that gets Jews killed. In 1969 in Iraq, nine Jewish citizens were actually hung for being “spies for Israel” in front of a 500,000-person audience who danced and rejoiced over their corpses. By the end of the year, 51 more Jewish Iraqis had been murdered by the regime..."

So, Patti Smith, Peter Gabriel and Roger Waters (among others), what do you think your scapegoating has done? Has it eased tension or provoked more?

Considering rock fans in general can be violent idiots, how responsible do you think your remarks are, when the hooligans need a target for their rage, and aren't content with rowdyism after one of your concerts?

These three have all declared BDS against ONE country and ONLY one country: The Jewish State.

That's scapegoating. If you say that there's injustice in Israel AND in Turkey, Syria, Nigeria, South Africa, North Korea and other parts of the world, you're addressing a problem. Singling out one country, and you are creating a problem. A lethal problem.

It seems doubtful that the bigoted murder rampages of various individuals who attacked a church, a synagogue, a disco or the streets of the Boston Marathon, ever had any bad experience with the minority group or the race they attacked. They were conveniently "brainwashed" or "radicalized" by rhetoric. By scapegoating. By listening to trusted people ranting and pointing to ONE group as the source of all the world's troubles.

You can bet that when the investigation ends in the murders of four members of the police in Paris last week, or the murders of two people in the German synagogue, there won't be any evidence that the killer was driven by a personal incident. There won't be "You see, these two Jews did this so he did that..." It'll be scapegoating.

It's dangerous to point the finger and declare that people of one country or one race are the ONLY people who are doing something wrong and the ONLY people who should pay the price. The price ends up being paid forward, and forward again, and it's as indiscriminate as a tossed grenade or the spray of machine gun bullets.

The London Daily FAILS Diahann Carroll

Diahann Carroll.

Most quickie newspaper headlines say "Beloved Actress" or "Groundbreaking Star" or "Famed for JULIA Sitcom."

What does the LONDON DAILY MAIL do? It focuses on her "FOIUR" marriages.

Nosing in a close second, Bezos the Beezer's Washington Post. The dickhead's newspaper had a slant slightly different from AP news:

OLIVIA POPE?

Fortunately Diahann Carroll didn't live to realize that the most important thing she did with her life is to pave the way for OLIVIA POPE.

Hey Beatles, you paved the way for ONE DIRECTION!

Meanwhile back at THE FAIL...

Where were the proofreaders? They were probably checking over the more important gossip on Miley Cyrus, the Kardashians, or the Jenners. Is that Haddid or Hadeeed? Is that Meggin or Meghan?

Hey hey, they got "Diahann" and "Carroll" right, if not her achievements in life.

Oh, and yes, a huge number of staffer at the DAILY MAIL are busy monitoring comments so that nobody reacting to an article about Muslims shouting ALLAH AKBAR and killing people can point out that religious fanatic crime almost always involves Muslims shouting ALLAH AKBAR and killing people.

Hello, Paris. Sorry to see you all standing around looking bewildered and helpless because four of your police officers were stabbed to death by a berserk "recently converted" nutjob.

I think if Carlin was still around, he'd have to amend the "SEVEN WORDS YOU CAN'T SAY" to include MUSLIM in a crime report.

"Let's remember, it's only a few who have hijacked a fine, fine religion." DUBYA.

"Huh?" DUBYA.

"Oh well." DUBYA.

"What can ya do." DUBYA.

"Hear my Dad's pun where David Copperfield becomes David Cop a Feel? Ha..." DUBYA.

"Whatever" EVERY MILLENNIAL NOT RELATED TO A MURDER VICTIM.

Lene Lovich, Nick Lowe, KISS, Tim Curry, ROCKET MAGAZINE memorabilia etc.

My dotcom has been renovated, and there's now a section on ROCKET MAGAZINE.

It also has pix that are rather startling, that somehow missed appearing in there, like my portrait of Lene Lovich.

You can see some of the covers, and take a look at a few sample pages that recall its controversies. These include the infamous "Blondie Nudes" and the KISS pig's head.

RONALD L. Smith.com For latecomers, I should mention that the very first issue of ROCKET made quite a splash thanks to those two items. A pig's head and some nudes...give the public what they want.

In starting up a rock magazine, you need...PHOTOS. We took out a want ad in The New York Times, asking people to bring us their portfolios. We mentioned that we were looking for freelancers who could be assigned to cover rock concerts and other fun events.

In order to prioritize calls, I called myself REID BROOKER in the ad. That way when the receptionist said, "Call for Reid Brooker," I'd know it was in reference to the ad. We could then track how effective it was.

VERY effective. A guy came in with a set of weird backstage pictures of KISS. For some reason lost to the ages, a cooked pig's head was backstage, and the kid managed to get Paul Stanley to pose for some photos with it. THIS would be our cover.

KISS was notorious for controlling every facet of their publicity. On the plus side, it meant that rock mags could get beautiful free images. They regularly posed for photo shoots with their selected photographers, and would grant "exclusive" rights for a month or two so the images you picked wouldn't appear elsewhere.

The downside: we were a new magazine and although part of a well known publishing house, fairly unknown. I had some reputation with publicists for my work on other rock magazines, but a lot of people wanted to see the first issue before they'd commit.

The KISS pig's head picture was an exclusive all right. It also slightly pissed them off: "In the future, please allow US to PROVIDE THE PICTURES." Sure. Now that we're off the ground, we'll fly with you.

Another attention-grabber in the issue: two pages of BLONDIE nudes. A photographer came in with a portfolio of his work, and it was mostly still life stuff, sidewalk photography, and...two nude pictures of a familiar-looking lady. Yes, a pre-fame Debbie Harry, who was just becoming known as the lead singer for BLONDIE.

I asked him he'd pop those two pictures out of his portfolio and take a check. He agreed. He had proof sheets with a lot more pictures, but ROCKET was a "family" magazine, so I settled for a coy sideview shot. In the original, the full waist-up frontal had Debbie posing with black power patches for pasties. The art department ended up substituting art work of a space station, which was more in keeping with promoting ROCKET.

As Debbie became more and more famous, the ROCKET pictures were stolen and used in a variety of men's magazines. Today there's the vague line that piracy websites used: "thanks to the original uploader." No, in the real world, these weasels weren't about to actually ADMIT where they stole the photos from. It probably would've been "fair use" or not worth even a Small Claims case to ask for some compensation, but there was never "originally in ROCKET MAGAZINE" on either of them.

I found quite a few talented photographers from being "Reid Brooker," and assigned them to some pretty cool concerts. One adorable girl named Becky was VERY good at wandering up to the front row, flirting with the guards, and being able to snap pix for several minutes. We also had a gay photographer with very good connections, who was able to get exclusive color shots of Freddie Mercury in performance.

I did a phone interview with Andy Gibb, and when he came to town, I assigned this guy to do a good, professional photo session in Andy's hotel room. Being a GAY photographer, the concept for the photo shoot was: "Andy, would you mind taking off your shirt? You have a sexy hairy chest, and our female readers will LOVE IT." Kindly Andy did indeed take off his shirt. The photographer smeared a little Vaseline on the lens (if not anything else) and managed to blur the edges so that it looked like Andy might've also taken off his pants!

It was quite an amusing "mini poster" (as we called our full color pages) and yeah, it's up on the RonaldLSmith dotcom, on the ROCKET page. Along with the KISS pig's head, the Blondie nudes, and misc. pages from the mag.

Here's a full length shot of Renaissance bassist Jon Camp and his then-girlfriend. In the mag, the picture was squared, so you didn't see those fantastic boots.

I rarely took concert pictures back then, leaving it to the more seasoned experts in getting action shots under adverse lighting conditions. I did tend to take photos at the interviews, as it was too awkward to have an extra person in the room taking shots during the conversation, or waiting around to set up lights and stuff for shots afterward. It was "interview and photos by Ronald L. Smith" for Billy Joel, Hall and Oates, Tim Curry, Genya Ravan and the rest. No pictures during my interviews with the four guys from KISS. Back then there were NO pictures of them being published without make-up.

We took advantage of this by running a publicity stunt in the second issue: "Do you want to see pictures of KISS without make-up???" As if we had any. Fortunately, the cards and letters came in favoring "NO!" So, we didn't ruin the fun...or ruin what became a very productive relationship with the band...including cover stories I did interviewing those guys. Or as George Plimpton said when he sat next to me in the press section at a KISS show at Madison Square Garden: "This is a lot of fun, isn't it!"

N.Y.C. Newspaper LOSING $5 Million A Year? "Let's Buy It!"

As we say in New Yawk...

"GO FIGURE!"

Newsday, experts in newspapers, decided it couldn't deal with losing FIVE MILLION A YEAR on the freebie AmNewYork, so they sold it. Who'd be dumb enough to buy it?

The idea of an ad-supported free newspaper is on par with a banner-supported news website. Only less so?

A main reason given for the newspaper's problems is that it's designed to appeal to subway riders. Most of its kiosks are located near subway entrances. They've even paid near-homeless people to hawk the paper at the entrances and try and shove it into commuters' hands.

Thanks to technology, people can make cellphone calls and use their fabulous laptops and pads on the subway now, so there's even less reason to riffle the pages of a newspaper, even for free.

The only two reasons I can think of would be: a) fear of hauling out an expensive device somebody could steal, and b) the desire to do the crossword puzzle or the peculiar Ken-Ken number game.

It wouldn't necessarily be to read about ME and a famous actress friend discussing abuses of her beautiful intellectual property online (thank you for that article AMNewYork).

Oh yes...I won $50 from them once, for entering a "caption this photo" contest. Then they stopped running them.

According to the New York Post article the new owner Joshua Schneps:

"We are looking forward to enhancing amNewYork’s brand through our expertise in multi-platform media including print, digital, events, social media and broadcasting platforms."

That might mean, what, MORE crossword puzzles? How about coloring pages for the kiddies? How about a few pages of coupons you can clip, to really appeal to cheapskates who don't want to pay for the Post or the Times or the Daily News?

Hey, Schneps, you could "fluff up" the paper and use better stock so homeless people can have something more comfy to lie on. You could have a few more embarrassing pages of ads for phony psychics, and more disgusting photos of diseased feet that podiatrists might be able to fix.

You could write more articles about ME. I wrote this one on you. We're even?

RON to RAUN - Welcome to My Label

Little did I think, back in the day, that I'd be on the same label as several artists I admired:

RON NAGLE. No, I'm not on Warner Bros. where he made "Bad Rice."

GUNHILL ROAD. No, I'm not on Mercury or Kama Sutra.

Both released their new albums on CD Baby. Just like me.

In honor of Halloween, here's a link to...

An American Singer-Songwriter Werewolf From my album HA HA HALLOWEEN.

Yes, FREE MUSIC! NO CHARGE!

In this song, I play a folkie idiot who hopes to impress women by strumming a guitar (you see them do this in parks, on benches, on train platforms). He'll either cover or SING like Neil Young, James Taylor, Leonard Cohen, Neil Diamond, or...

Or...Cat Stevens, except I couldn't remotely do Cat Stevens so I left him out.

RAUN MACKINNON put out her second album on KAPP. Her first album was folk. This was folk rock.

KAPP was trying to get a bit more contemporary, and even signed a rock group called THE GOOD RATS (produced by Ron Haffkine, who later produced Dr. Hook).

"Color Wheel" was a good rock number and "Sister Marie," with added orchestration, a poignant ballad.

Fifty years after that album came out...she's got a new one. On CD Baby. Welcome to my label, Raun.

"I love my label, and my label loves me..."

Yes, just like RONALD L. SMITH, RON NAGLE, GUNHILL ROAD...new RAUN MACKINNON music will be for sale all over the world, and the songs will be on Spotify, iTunes and most likely YouTube.

Who needs radio play anymore? Or a lot of royalties?

Me, Ron, Gunhill Road and Raun, we'll make the money selling t-shirts the next time we gig...