The New York Daily News...encouraging autograph hounds and trivial idiots

You know the New York Daily News?

They recently FIRED half their writers and editors. The thinking was that they didn't need opinion columnists and pointless soft news. Several of their more questionable writers actually took off before they could be fired, including opinionated Shaun King and trivial Gersh Kuntzman.

Seems the paper could fire a few more. THIS is a headline??

The New York Daily News is supposedly going to stop losing money by assigning reporters to break worthy news stories of corruption. To dig deep as journalists. To avoid puff pieces and silliness in favor of using the power of the press to get answers to vital questions.

If you're going to have a human interest story, make it interesting. Find that kid coping with the life-threatening disease. Get that "feel good" vibe off a guardian reunited with her lost cat. Talk about the neighbors who worked together to save the playground.

Some twat collects autographs? THAT is a story?

Since the gay gay gay show is either sold out or closed or about to close, the point is NOT that these guys staged a revival of a guaranteed HIT featuring America's most fabulous GAY ACTOR.

Broadway is doing very well, thank you, by catering to affluent gays and idiot tourists. A short-run of "Waiting for Godot" or that rarity, a NEW drama, will succeed if it stars somebody who was once in a "Star Trek" or "Harry Potter" movie. But the majority of Broadway (and most certainly OFF BROADWAY) shows are not encouraged and don't get full page articles...because the space is wasted on ridiculous crap like this:

This is the EDITED version. There were a few extra windy paragraphs to this fartuous piece of fluff.

Publicists are paid to point time-wasters to non-stories: "Hey, you should go over to the hospital where MY CLIENT just autographed a guy's iron lung..." "I'm giving you an exclusive on MY CLIENT appearing at Barnes & Noble to sign her latest book..."

Writers no doubt get emails and letters from people with worthy stories to investigate: "Do you know the scandal of the fake Muhammad Ali autographs being hawked as real by a bogus company that tricked Ali into signing his name...to be duplicated?" "Can you expose how eBay does nothing about people selling Photoshop fake nudes of celebrities that have FORGED AUTOGRAPHS on them?"

Sadly, every day the trivial news remains fixated on what Kardashians do. Whenever there's a Comic Con (and there seems to be one every week now), the newspapers happily send a photographer to take pictures of all the happy idiots who put on costumes to escape the real world and sublimate the fact they are still virgins.

The stage door, once unknown down a dark alley on the side of a theater, is now regularly mobbed by idiots who desperately need AUTOGRAPHS on their Playbills and posters. What the HELL for? Why encourage this foolishness? Some pudge can frame a poster and say, "Look at THIS...I got EVERY autograph of EVERY cast member!"

What DOES that mean? It means "I was a pest." That's ALL it means. Can the pudge tell you what the play was about? Quote a line? Some of these clowns don't even buy a ticket to the show. They just join the mob hoping for the autograph. I know one actor who first asks, "Do I make this out "TO EBAY?" I recall Jackie Mason REFUSING to autograph things: "Did you see my show? Where's your Playbill? Where's your ticket stub? Why should I support you when you don't support me?"

I must add that Jackie sometimes made an exception. As he stood outside the theater (after waiting about 45 minutes in his dressing room, to discourage the autograph hounds), a boy of about 12 or 14 came up to him with a piece of paper and a pen. He'd been prompted by his father, who stood a safe distance away. "Can I have your autograph, Mr. Mason?" Jackie looked down, appraising him. "Did you see my show?" asked Jackie. The kid wasn't sure what to say. He didn't say anything. Jackie said, "OK, if you saw my show, what did I talk about?" The kid paused. "Jews?" Jackie laughed and signed the paper.

Yes, few autograph seekers just want the chance to meet a star, and seeing one is as memorable as glomming the Statue of Liberty or the Empire State Building. Some use the moment of getting the autograph as an excuse to very nicely and politely say "I really enjoyed the show," or to mention a flattering detail of the performance, or something else the performer did. It's a mutual trade-off and natural.

Less natural is that way too many people are selling the autographs or are just "collectors" who want another one for their "collection" and shouldn't be encouraged or considered worth writing about in a newspaper. There's nothing special, ethical or magical about some fool getting an entire Playbill or poster signed by every cast member. There's something neurotic and alarming about the increasing need for people to dress up at "Comic Con" or stand in line and pay hundreds upon hundreds of dollars for a squiggle of ink on a piece of paper.

There's something very sad about a major New York newspaper ignoring hundreds of worthy stories from the wire services, and NOT assigning people to cover worthy "human interest" stories...and instead wasting space on what could be described as nothing but empty celebrity worship and ink gluttony.

KOVALEV'S AIRBNB - THERE GOES THE NEIGHBORHOOD

One fantasy some people have is...being rich enough to enjoy a QUIET HOME. No neighbors being uncouth.

Ah yes, if you're RICH, you can afford to live among CLASSY people...

Today's headline underscores just how relevant Lennon's lyric still is: "GIVE PEACE A CHANCE."

The problem is worse than ever thanks to something called AIRBNB.

The story? Light heavyweight "Krusher" Kovalev is living in a home that apparently has been unsold for a year, but is now being leased to anyone who can pay the high price. And how do you afford the high price? Sub-lease the place for porn movie shoots and/or wild parties.

Meet you after the break...

Modern times are only making an age-old problem worse. How does one defend against loud parties when the tenants are not even tenants? They'll scoff at the cops IF the cops show up, scoff at a ticket (which is unlikely to even be written), and continue the abuse until they find someplace else to target.

In posh neighborhoods from Long Island to Beverly Hills, it's not uncommon for big homes to be leased for a one-nighter "rave," with people getting on social media and cell phones to give out the time and place. It's a form of audio terrorism. Neighbors have no idea if the event will get totally out of control and there will be violence...as opposed to drunken idiots propositioning dog walkers or slipping through open windows searching for more fun.

The police will say they have better things to do than send officers to quell a noisy party. Or, they MIGHT have better things to do, so let the officers stay at the precinct eating donuts. "Quality of life" is not a priority in this increasingly noisy, obnoxious and hedonistic world. Let's make that NOISIER, MORE OBNOXIOUS, MORE HOPELESSLY HEDONISTIC world.

Years ago, Johnny Carson had his hands full, and his ears full, because his neighbors, Sonny and Cher, could not or would not control their barking dogs.

The sense of "entitlement" among the rich is just as irritating as the boorishness of the poor. BOTH love their NOISE and don't think they're having a good time unless they are shouting at each other, laughing like hyenas, and blasting the music. Why have a party in a disco when you can turn your home into one?

Tony Randall knew he was one of the lucky ones. He lived in a solidly constructed old building on Manhattan's West Side. The walls were so thick he didn't hear his neighbors, and they didn't have to hear his opera records.

While New York City apartments technically must comply with the "warrantee of habitability," and the quiet enjoyment of one's apartment, as boisterous fictional Ralph Kramden could tell you, "a man's home is his castle..." but more often it's his prison. He's stuck trying to sleep while the floors or walls throb to a disco beat. He's stuck listening to barking dogs and bawling babies.

The notion of SOUNDPROOFING is dismissed as absurd, and something only neurotics need. Meanwhile scientists and psychologists have proven how dangerous unwanted sound can be. It raises stress and blood pressure. It creates anger and depression. It makes people irritable and unproductive at work. The natural environment is a quiet one, with noise, such as THUNDER, coming as a danger warning. That's why noise triggers such an adverse reaction in most normal people. To put it mildly, noise annoys.

Now that AIRBNB has become so popular, the indifference to noise is getting even worse. The excuse of "letting off some steam on the weekends" now includes "what's wrong with making some money by throwing a party?"

Kovalev, fortunately for him, was in the hospital recovering from a knockout loss at the time his home was converted into a disco. His neighbors were the ones suffering the all-night headaches.

Cartoons Re-captioned #9582

Politically Correct Thought for the Day

RON'S FRACTURED FLICKERS salute to LON CHANEY

Remember "Fractured Flickers?"

The show (produced by Jay Ward and hosted by Hans Conried) put new soundtracks to public domain silent films. It was kind of a new spin on the old photo caption game. Back then, magazines regularly had funny foto features, and even Shel Silverstein put out a few books that added fresh captions to old movie stills.

Which is a preamble to: I had some fun, I hope you do too...

Legendary Comic Character Actress and Cabaret Star: Charlotte Rae, 92

She was a Rae of comic sunshine…departed at the age of 92, the kindly character actress Charlotte Rae. For most people, she was the star of “Diff’rent Strokes” and “The Facts of Life,” but she had spent decades perfecting her craft in many memorables roles on stage and screen.

Charlotte Rae Lubotsky (April 22, 1926 – August 5, 2018), like Jackie Mason, was Jewish and grew up in the somewhat unlikely state of Wisconsin. Hardly the stereotype of the Lower East Side comedienne, she attended Northwestern University, and met other budding performers including Cloris Leachman and Paul Lynde.

Charlotte, like Lynde, moved to New York City and worked some of the chi-chi local clubs, including the Village Vanguard. Lynde was part of the “New Faces” revue and Rae turned up in “The Littlest Revue,” produced by Ben Bagley. Slightly neurotic in comic personality, something shared by “age of anxiety” colleagues like Lynde and Alice Ghostley, her material was smart and clever, but often delivered with that tremor of wan comic distaste, as if a breakdown was coming any minute.

She even put out her own solo comedy album, the 1955 collection “Songs I Taught My Mother: Silly, Sinful, and Satirical Selections.” I mentioned it in my book the "Goldmine Comedy Record Price Guide," and that after all these years, a few cuts still resonate. One of them is "Merry Minuet," a dark satire on world mayhem and violence from Sheldon Harnick. Sheldon (better known for "Fiddler on the Roof") was yet another Northwestern University classmate of Charlotte's. I was probably one of the few to mention that record to her, in talking about her many achievements.

Her brief foray into comedy records done, she busied herself with Broadway roles (she was nominated for a Tony twice) and variety shows and sitcoms broadcast in New York City. She appeared on “The Colgate Comedy Hour” and “Car 54 Where Are You,” where she played the fretful wife of Officer Schnauzer (Al Lewis).

In 1974 she memorably played a neurotic Tupperware saleswoman on an episode of “All in the Family,” and starred in Norman Lear’s short-lived sitcom version of “Hot L Baltimore.” Lear cast her in “Diff’rent Strokes,” and she went on to star in the sequel. The fact of life for the now-aging veteran, was that sitcom work was very strenuous. As the girls in the show aged, and there wasn’t as much conflict for her Mrs. Garrett character to deal with. She was glad to be written out of some episodes, and then she left after the seventh season, replaced by Cloris Leachman (brought in to play her character’s sister).

A more perplexing fact of life for the charmingly chubby funny lady was learning that her husband was homosexual. His coming out led to an end in their marriage. They were wed in 1951 and divorced in 1976. Six years later, Charlotte began to suffer health problems. She had a pacemaker implanted and that allowed her to keep working at her chosen pace, which included a “Facts of Life” reunion movie in 2001. Some years later, she underwent chemotherapy, but last year, she was diagnosed with bone cancer. Her last film appearance was in “Ricki and the Flash” (2015), but she left behind so many stage memories, and a legacy of television work. For those who think they know Charlotte from her typecasted comedy work…just consider where she came from on the Broadway stage: “Mrs. Peachum” in the decadent “Threepenny Opera” of 1954, and the truculent hillbilly “Mammy Yokum,” in “Li’l Abner.” In 1989, still up for a challenging theatrical role, she starred in a Chicago production of “Driving Miss Daisy.”

Dick Cavett in the BAD, "New York Times" -- the rappers' favorite doo-rag, y'all

With Cardi B on the cover of Rolling Stone twice, and nobody getting "Entertainment Weekly" who isn't under 40, black or gay or trans, it was nice that the Old Gray Lady, The New York Times, bothered to write about Dick Cavett.

Who? In a peculiar irony, "The Dick Cavett Show" is NOT available in his NYC neighborhood (which is also mine). The obscure cable channel DECADES owns the rights, and they can't seem to get one of the 300 or 400 channels that SPECTRUM gives its cable subscribers. I can get Korean language shows, Spanish language shows, but not anything where the language is erudite English.

This leaves me with the Jimmys, fat effeminate James, Colbert and Seth. The alternative is Johnny Carson, who anchors one of the nostalgia networks that offer nothing but re-runs. No Dick Cavett. The NY Times article tried to squeeze Dick for a name of who might be the "new Cavett." Cavett said he doesn't watch the talk shows much (obviously, he's sick of the genre, and you don't get a lot of good conversation out of a Kardashian).

Cavett, at 81, has left Montauk to the noisy and trendy rich idiots, and is now stopping and smelling the roses in his new Connecticut mansion. The historic Montauk house is up for sale, and it might be grabbed by somebody with 62 million (that's the asking price) to spare. Like, Jay-Z, who might tear it down and build a home shaped like a giant Kangol hat. It might also serve as an extra Nazi bunker for Long Island resident Roger Waters. Intellectuals are certainly not welcome on Long Island anymore, and I have no idea what they're now using the Southampton College campus for. Maybe the Russians own it, and their Trump-whores are practicing watering the grounds with pee-pee.

In mentioning some of the fine moments that made Cavett a legend, the New York Times writer wrote about the night Norman Mailer jousted with Gore Vidal. (Today, we don't seem to have any novelists who are worth talking to, especially not pudgy E.L. James or the Burger King of best sellers James Patterson and his helpers.)

"After Mr. Mailer accused Mr. Vidal of “intellectual pollution” and Mr. Cavett of being “smaller intellectually” than himself, Mr. Cavett suggested, in what was perhaps the original sick burn, “Why don’t you fold it five ways and put it where the moon don’t shine?”

How about that. Dick Cavett is now the master of the "sick burn." That's sort of, what, Edgar Kennedy with a fever?

The Gray Lady is now trying to be "of color?" As we rappers know, "sick" doesn't actually mean you're ill, or you're a tasteless comic ala Lenny Bruce (whoever he was). SICK is a good thing, yo. And "burn" is the new "snap." Know wuttum sayin'?

Hurrying to drop in "sick burn," the Times forgot to set up why Norman Mailer said "“Why don’t you fold it five ways and put it where the moon don’t shine?”

Young readers might not know what "it" is referring to. Some kind of ancient slang? No, the set-up is that Norman Mailer had been taking shots at Cavett as well as Vidal, declaring neither of them up this level. Cavett had already sassed back, "Do you want another chair to contain your giant intellect?"

Mailer responded by suggesting that Cavett was lost without his question sheet...a sheet that most viewers hardly even noticed since Cavett rarely even glanced at his prepared questions. He preferred "conversation" over cold interview. As Cavett recalled, to someone other than the New York Times:

"When he said, ‘Why don’t you just read the next question off the question sheet?’ I thought, ‘I’m not David Frost!’ — but I didn’t say that. I said, ‘Why don’t you fold it five ways and stick it where the moon don’t shine?’ Longest laugh I think I ever got. Even longer than asking Bette Davis how she lost her virginity.”