The past week I've had some jaunts around town, so I figured that this was as good a time as any to clean up a bunch of notes.

Last Friday, I drove out to Arcadia -- a town I've never been to before -- that's northeast of here, east of Glendale and then Pasadena.  I went to the Angeles National Forest Headquarters for no reason that makes a particularly good story.  Basically, it was to get a National Park pass, which I could have done by mail.  However, I not only was interested in going to the headquarters (I used to work for the California State Park system so I like such things), but also I noticed that the Los Angeles County Arboretum and Botanic Garden, which was only about two miles away.

As I've written here, I love the Chicago Botanic Garden (which is actually in my hometown of Glencoe), a spectacular place that's rich and vibrant and expansive and beautifully laid out and organized, with an education center, cooking demonstration area, carillon, various lands, islands and more, which I call the Disneyland of Botanic Gardens,  So, I was curious about the Arboretum here.  And as a member of the Chicago garden, I had a reciprocal entry here, which is always a good thing.

(Somewhat nearby the Arboretum to the north and west are the Descanso Gardens.  I went there several years back -- happily, it's also on the reciprocal program! -- and it was expansive and enjoyable, though fairly basic in its grounds.)

I had a pleasant time at the Los Angeles Arboretum, though found it a bit underwhelming.  However, before going any further, it's important to note that this article is brought to you in living color on NBC --
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(Okay, for some people here they won't get that allusion.  Most will -- it's the NBC peacock that they used for years as their logo to promote the network.)

​There was a certain charm to the area which I liked, but it's fairly limited, and not very interestingly laid out, I thought, with little description of what was there and what you were looking at.  The centerpieces of the Arboretum actually have nothing to do with gardens.  One is a big bandshell where they have concerts for the Pasadena Symphony and popular artists -- it's certainly a great venue for that.  And the other is the Queen Anne House built in 1895 by an early owner of the property, which has been used as a movie location.  Unfortunately, it's not open for touring through, but you can only look in from the outside.
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While I was in the area, I also swung over to see the Norton Simon Museum -- but when I got there the parking lot was full.  And when I drove back to Colorado Boulevard to find somewhere else to park, it turned out that the road headed off without any side streets or off-ramp exits for a couple miles, so I couldn't get back to the museum.  And by the time side streets came back in, and I could turn around, I was far enough away that I decided not to turn back and just passed it up for another time.

But while driving back through Glendale to Eagle Rock, I finally got to stop at a restaurant for an early dinner that I've had recommended by several people -- Casa Bianca, which was highly-regarded pizza here.  I've never eaten at the place because they're not open for lunch, and driving through rush hour traffic to get to the distant place was of no interest to me, though a friend of mine does that on occasion.  I liked their pizza, it was very good -- but I didn't think it was "Great," or at least great enough to even consider driving this far for it, unless I'm already in the area like this time.
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And then yesterday I took again ocean trip with my cousin Jim Kaplan, who I've written about here previously.  He's worked in the marine industry for years, and has a small sailboat out in the marina, and every once in a while I'll join him.  As my article noted, it's often a great time and and misadventure.  The last trip, for instance, there was a squall.  This time, the motor went out as we headed through the marina out to the ocean.  I asked him if he'd every docked his boat using the sails only.  No, he said.  Do you think you'll be able to, I asked?  He laughed, "We'll find out!!"

The sailing though was very enjoyable.  Great weather, and though there were choppy waves, it was still a fairly smooth ride.  That's Santa Monica Piere off in the distance, as I briefly took the helm.

The good news is that we got the motor running after we re-entered the marina and turned into the channel for his dock.  So, we made it back in one piece.  And he told me today that he thinks he discovered the problem with the motor -- that it got clogged -- and he cleaned it out, and the thing seems to be running better than it has in a long while.

When we got back to his house, it turns out that one of his neighbors is the actor Matthew Modine -- who is running for president of the Screen Actors Guild.  The election is next week or soon after.  He came across as a very nice guy, and Jim is trying to get him to join us on an ocean voyage.  I don't know enough about the SAG issues, though Matthew filled me in some of them.  Obviously he's biased in his observations, but I know enough about Guild politics and issues to get a sense where things sit.  And from that and a short, very pleasant conversation -- hardly the basis for forming a deeply-informed opinion -- I hope he wins.

(As a side benefit, I also got to ask Matthew about a running joke in the Out and About with Jiminy Glick videos that I post here and something I've always been curious about, where Jiminy often refers to his four boys -- Morgan, Mason, Matthew and Modine.  The short version is that he's friends with Martin Short who plays Jiminy, and just came up with that one day and threw it in without asking permission first.  And Matthew finds it hilarious.  The other reference is to another friend, the son of actor James Mason, named Morgan Mason.)

Next time, Admiral Kaplan and I head out in search of the white whale...

When I was back in Chicago the other week, staying in Evanston to be nearby relatives, I drove a few times through Glencoe where I grew up.  And as I passed the Village of Glencoe sign that welcomes one to town, I noticed that it said -- "Established 1869."  Which meant that this year, it's 150 years old.  So, I figured that that deserves at least some recognition.  It's not a shabby achievement.
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I'm not sure of the population, but it's always been around 10,500, so we'll go with that.  If you want to see about the town's festivities, you can check it out here.  But I'm going to keep this fairly simple and dive in here on my own.

I thought that when a town hits 150 years, especially if you grew up there, it's entitled to fairly good-sized photographic presentation.  So here are a dozen or so to help commemorate the occasion.  Most of these come from about 40 years back when I wandered around town and took some pictures.  To be fair to the town, Glencoe isn't always covered with snow -- it actually can get lush green from the late Spring through the Summer, with brilliant colors in the Fall -- but that's when I chose to walk around and take the photos. 

That's the old library on the left, which is probably my favorite building in town, as much for the outside (it just looks like a library is supposed to) as what's inside -- especially the wonderfully magical downstairs shelves that felt like you were in a hidden cloister -- although the train station is a very close second.

Behind the library, this is the town hall, which I always like for its old world, colonial style, though I still think of as one of the more "modern" of the significant buildings since it's only about 60 years old or so.
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​And this the turn-of-the century train station.  A few years ago I rented the movie Flag of Our Fathers, that Clint Eastwood directed, about the six soldiers who raised the flag at Iwo Jima.  At one point in the film, the soldiers have returned to the U.S. and go on a cross-country tour to raise money for the war effort and are in Chicago.  Eastwood needed a venue that looked out of the 1940s, and when the scene came up I though, "Gee, that looks like the Glencoe station.  Afterwards I did some reserach -- and it was..

​I've always loved this photo, not so much for the visual imaging of it -- though I do like that -- but almost entirely for the sign with states which is significantly the obvious.

The sign and its helpful notification aside, here's a better look at Lake Michigan, and the lovely shores of the Glencoe public beach. Fun fact:  it's more sandy in the Summer.

In fairness, no, the snow wasn't this high, nor were the drifts.  From the plows clearing the streets downtown, this was the result.  By the way, Weinecke's was a beloved hardware store, in town for probably half a century.  The building is still there and -- as a landmark and to keep the tradition, so is the sign -- but it's now a high-end restaurant.

(This was taken during the early afternoon, but the glare off the snow was SO bright that the camera auto-compensated and made it look darker...)

That was then, this is now.  This is Weinecke's today -- now the Guildhall restaurant.  And no, this is not one of my photographs.

Here's a much better, full view of my fave, the venerable old Glencoe Public Library.  Since the vegetation is lush and green, that's the first hint I didn't take the photo.

I've written often here about the acclaimed Writers Theatre in Glencoe, which began life in the back of the bookstore, Books on Vernon, just down the street from Weinicke's, with about 50 seats -- but still got critics from the Chicago Tribune and the Sun-Times to review of their productions, and even on occasion the New York Times.  It then moved to the far-more special Women's Club a few blocks away, which had a theater space designed for about 120 seats.  (This is where I saw the Harnick and Bock musical She Loves Me I've written about here often that I set up to attend along with Harnick and my aunt, who was his childhood friend and Northwestern classmate, and which starred Jessie Mueller before she went to Broadway and won a Tony Award as Best Actresses.)  A few years back the Wall Street Journal (which has sent critics to review plays here) named it the top regional theater in the country.  The company built up such a following that a few years ago, they did a major fundraising project and built a new, major structure on the spot.  

Grand as it is, they still kept the theaters intimate.  The main stage still only seats around 125 people, and the small stage holds only about 70.  It's further designed so that hey can also convert the lobby into a theater if needed.  Side note: last year I saw the world premiere of an interesting little play called Witch on the small stage, and in a few months the excellent Geffen Theatre in Los Angeles is presenting the play.  When some friends who attend a lot of the Geffen productions asked if I was thinking of going to see the play, I was able to tell them I already had...  And said it was quite good.

This is how far it's come from the back of a book store in a little over 25 years.  For the record, their photographer makes it look far better than I ever could.

Happily, I do have a few photos that I took during the summertime, so I think I should include at least one that shows how lush the forest is in Glencoe, as opposed to all the snow scenes.  This is the Turnbull Woods, part of the Cook County Forest Preserves, which I could reach a very short walk from our house, and where sat the Double Killer Cave my friend and I named and explored as kids.

I've written occasionally of the spectacular Chicago Botanic Garden, which I call the Disneyland of botanic gardens because it's set up into different "lands" and is so expansive that it has trolley tours and a miniature children's train set-up during the Summer.  But though it has "Chicago" in its name, it's actually located in Glencoe.  No single picture can do its magnificence justice, but here are two that I took that gives at least a hint of an idea.

And what the heck, we'll end on a picture of the homestead where I grew up.  That was my brother and my room on the left until we got old enough that he got his own room in the back, and I kept this one.

In many ways, this also served as Elisberg Stadium.  My brother and I played what we called "Fastball Tennis Ball in the driveway against the garage (our version of two-man baseball).  There was a basketball hoop on the garage rather than a standalone backboard -- this was fine, with one caveat: many of the houses in the neighborhood like ours were designed by the Keck firm, who were disciples of Frank Lloyd Wright (who designed some houses in Glencoe.  That meant that the rooftops were flat -- so if a shot went way-wild and landed on the roof, it didn't roll off.  You had to get the ladder to climb up.  However, this help train you to take as good shots as possible and not just fling the ball up in hopeful prayer.  Finally, the front yard served as our football field -- though the tree in the center of the yard made it a wee bit of an obstacle, however if you built it into your strategy it worked well as a high-end blocker.
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Happy 150.

As I always have tried to do on my more recent trips to Chicago -- since I now stay with relatives who live in Evanston, just blocks from the beloved Northwestern University -- I like to walk through the campus which has retained its charm on the shores of Lake Michigan, but added serious construction over the past couple decades.  A bit too built up in some areas, in my taste, but with incredibly impressive additions in other areas.  (Particularly in the theaters arts and music areas with new stages and performance halls, and also in athletic facilities on the landfill.)

To be clear, this body of water is not an inlet from Lake Michigan but a lagoon they built on campus a while back.  You can make out Lake Michigan right behind the trees.  But this lagoon plays a fun part in family history.  

Back when I was going to NU in the School of Speech (now Communications), I took a Communication Studies course, and for reasons I don't remember, one day the professor took the whole class down to the lagoon to practice projection.  (It wasn't a performance class, so I really don't recall at this point why we were doing this, perhaps to expand our awareness of the use of the voice or...oh, I don't know.)  But half the class stood on one side of the lagoon and the rest on the other shore.  And for decades after, my father who still be bemused by this and said, "So, just to be clear, I was paying tuition so that you could learn to yell across a lake..."  For what it's worth, I thought it was sort of silly at the time, too, though I enjoyed the rest of the class.  But that didn't matter.  It was always "That class where you yelled across the lake."

But hey, as long as we're down by the waterfront, I thought I might was well also include of my buddies who joined me for part of the walk.

Anyway, I bring up my walk for another reason entirely, for a reason that will likely mean absolutely nothing to most people, but it was a big deal to me.

Over the past few years, as I mentioned, I take this walk through the Northwestern campus.  And each time, there's one place I always make sure to stop at -- there is a museum on campus, and I always want to see it.  I don't mean I "always want to see it again", I mean quite literally...I always want to see it.  At least once.  But every single time I've been on campus, the Block Museum has been closed.  Either that was the one day it wasn't open, or they were closed for lunch, or they were closed for renovation, or they were closed to put in a new exhibition.  Whatever the reason, it's always been closed.  Always.  So, I've never seen it, and it looks very nice, and has a good reputation for a small museum on a college campus.  

But this year  ...are you ready? -- it was OPEN!!!  O joy!  I told the receptionist how thrilled I was to finally get in, and explained why.  She laughed and said, "Yes, we do seem to close a lot" -- but really, she was just being polite.  They don't close that often, just often enough when I'm there.

Alas, they only had one exhibit, but when I rolled my eyes at my timing again, she said, "Oh, no, it's a good one."  And it was.  "Caravans of Gold, Fragments in Time:  Art, Culture and Exchange across Medieval Saharan Africa."  It look at the Trans-Saharan trade culture from the days of antiquity, how the gold and even salt were such major factors in the area, and how historians and archaeologists have been able to put the past in perspective, often from only fragments. 

It wasn't a deeply-extensive exhibit, but respectably comprehensive, and very well presented, along with interesting video interviews of archaeologists talking about the area and this exhibit.  It will be traveling to the Aga Khan Museum in Toronto this Fall -- and to any folks reading this in Washington, D.C. (and yes, this means you Nell Minow, who I know not only lives in the area, but even went to the beloved NU briefly, and we had a class together -- but she transferred to be with her longtime boyfriend who is now her longtime husband.  But I digress...), the exhibit will be there in the Spring of 2020 at the National Museum of African Art which a part of the Smithsonian Institution.

The exhibit got a lot of funding, but notably some came from the Buffett Institute for Global Studies.  Yes, it's that Buffet, but only in being the same family.  Not Warren Buffet, but his sister Rebecca Buffett Elliott who went to Northwestern and about two years ago gave the university a massive donation for that Global Studies institute.  And when I say "massive," that's not hyperbole.  It was $101 mlilion.  Mainly, I love the extra "$1 million" so that it wasn't just a flat, dull $100 million...

Anyway, I finally made it to the Block Museum on the Northwestern Campus.  All is well...

And huzzah again!  We have the other of the short videos from yesterday's rehearsal of the Grant Park Orchestra for their free concert today.  I'll have the post the other, wonderful but much longer video from the rehearsal when I return from Chicago, because the Internet connection is unfortunately much too slow to get it to upload properly.

The orchestra is largely made up of members of the Lyric Opera of Chicago orchestra, and the baritone is John Orduña, who (among his other credentials) has sung with the Lyric Opera, performing a very nice rendition of Irving Berlin's "God Bless America."  The conductor is Christopher Bell.  Keep in mind that this is a rehearsal, so I think they stop a few times, but I've used the Pause button well-enough I think so that it should flow pretty well.
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When my folks moved into an independent living residence, there was a lovely lady named Adelin Cohn who lived down the hall.  I always enjoyed visiting with her, and even after my parents passed away I've kept in touch with her.  Sometimes visiting when in town, and always calling on her birthday.  (It's always easy to remember her birthday, since it's the day after when my father's was.)

Today is Adeline's birthday, so I called.  She's 103.

And no, that wasn't a typo. 

I wrote here about going to her 100th birthday party three years ago.  She seems to still be doing well.  Maybe not as sharp, and slowing down a touch, but she sounded strong and seems to be in good health.  And she was always pretty vibrant -- still driving and pretty well when she was 98, until her family sat down with her and explained why it was good to stop.

Anyway, it's always good to call her, and have her pick up on the other end of the line.  So, once AGAIN, I can't let the day pass without noting a very happy birthday to Sweet Adeline.
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Several months back, after writing an article about the death of a famous screenwriter (sorry for leaving out the name, but that's part of the twist in the story.  Bear with me, we'll get to it...), my friend Dr. Greg Van Buskirk posted a reply online asking me to tell the story tangentially related to that of my odd confrontation online with Alec Baldwin.  I'd never told the full thing, and he was curious.  I promised I would, but other news stories and interests got in the way.  And the spirit didn't move me enough to delve back into it then.  But enough time has passed -- since the request and the actual incident -- and it seems like a good respite from writing about Trump, who by comparison makes it all seem incredibly benign.  

Also, I was reminded of it to a while back last year when the TV critic for Salon.com, Melanie McFarland, wrote a review in October for the new ABC talk show, The Alec Baldwin Show.  What leaped out to me in fond remembrance were several passages she wrote -- 

As you will see, that review resonated with me.

By the way, I want to be clear about something right upfront.  If anyone wonders why I am bringing out this tale publicly, please know -- that I'm not.  The story is already public.  As will be clear from the online links to articles, it has already been told.  There's not even the slightest reason to "hide names" because they've already been written about -- by the participants themselves.  Nor was anything about it ever secret.  I'm just late in fulfilling my promise to retell the tale after that associated news story and am filling in some holes that wouldn't be otherwise clear, mostly from the distance of time.

And we dive in.

The tale had its beginnings 11 years ago during the 2008 Writers Guild Strike.  During that time I had a column on the Huffington Post, and as a Guild member on strike I wrote a weekly "primer" of sorts, explaining the strike, what I thought were the important and valid reasons behind it, and the current status of things.  Yes, I was biased.  But I tried to be honest and as objective as possible.  And I also should add, from my absolutely biased perspective, my analysis tended to be proved reasonably-correct in the end.  Including coming with in days of predicting months earlier when I thought the strike would end.  And why.

Needless-to-say, I wasn't the only person writing about the writers' strike against the AMTPT.  There were many, on both sides.  As a slight digression, but as background, among them were many entertainment lawyers.  And what seemed bizarre is not just that entertainment lawyers all seemed wrong, but SO wrong that it was like they were clueless.  One day I mentioned to a member of the WGA's negotiating team that it was my observation that of all the people writing about the strike -- AMPTP negotiators, studio executives, directors, actors, producers, journalists, even fans-on-the-street -- the group of people who were more-consistently wrong about more things with the strike were entertainment lawyers.  The negotiating team member, who had read most-everything written about the strike and was intimately involved with the reality, laughed and said, "I think you're right."

Anyway, among those putting in their two-cents about the strike was Alec Baldwin, who in his own pieces on the Huffington Post tried to analyze what was going on, and was very critical of the writers.  He would use the Directors Guild as the shining example to emulate, referencing that they had only had to strike once in their history, and that was just for 15 minutes.  It should be noted that "not striking" is not always A Good Thing because it can mean capitulating before you get what you want.  More to the point, the DGA rarely ever had to strike because they would negotiate weakly, settle, the WGA would fight hard, go on strike, get all these benefits, and then the DGA would come in and say "Wait, we want these, too."  Indeed, that very thing happened just prior to the 2008 strike.

Every once in a while, I would write a few HuffPo columns refuting what I believes were errors in Mr. Baldwin's positions, and he would go on making errors.  As far as I knew, he wasn't aware of my pieces, although they were all prominently featured on the Huffington Post's Entertainment section front page, so I guess it was possible.

(One of the amusing things about my column-responses were all the reader comments I would receive from worshipful Alec Baldwin fans, blisteringly outraged that I would dare criticize their beloved hero and shred me for it.  I tended to skim them and let such things be, but what I really wanted to write back was, "Please know that Alec Baldwin is not going to invite you to his house for dinner, no matter how much you suck up to him.")

Anyway, one day Mr. Baldwin wrote an analysis that I thought was especially wrong-headed and particularly divisive given the then-status of negotiations.  And I knew the kind of commentary I wanted to write in response.

Not long before that article, the Screen Actors Guild had graciously joined the WGA in solidarity and organized a day when SAG members were encouraged to join the Writers Guild picket line.  A great many did (at my picket line, I recall that Debra Messing and Emily Deschanel were there, which only added to why I was a big fan of them both), and it was extremely generous and the joint-effort got a great deal of attention in the news.  It was this that I decided to write a column about of appreciation.

In making clear with this event was so important, I knew it was important to put this unity in perspective.  I explained that writers and actors were often natural enemies -- largely based on "I created the characters and they're not doing the lines right" and "I brought the characters to life and therefore they're mine" -- and I included some examples of the antipathy, one of which was an infamous tale of two unnamed actors on a movie set ridiculing a famous, unnamed Pulitzer Prize-winning comedy writer who had written the screenplay, as they shouted out a stream of deprecating remarks (knowing the writer was nearby and could hear), most notably, "Doesn't anyone here know how to write comedy?!!!!."  And yet, as I went on to note, despite actors and writers having this lifelong battle, my point was that it was so incredibly magnanimous of the actors to come to the support of the writers during the strike.  And which showed the importance of what was being struck for.

You can read that article here.

I intentionally left out the name of the actors and famous comedy writer and even the movie, because I didn't want that to be the point of the honorific.  But I also knew that if Alec Baldwin ever read the piece, he would know the story and people involved I was referring to.  Not because it was a well-known story in movie circles...but because the actors in question were himself and his then-girlfriend Kim Basinger.  And the famous comedy writer was indeed incredibly famous -- Neil Simon.  (Again, "Does anyone here know how to write comedy?!!!")  The movie was the flop, The Marrying Man.  More on that in a moment.

I also wrote the piece the way I did for another reason.  I didn't want to slam Alec Baldwin publicly, but since I knew he would of course know all the details, if he ever did read the column I wanted him to know very clearly that in our HuffPo disagreements on the strike I wasn't some little ignorant sap to be lectured to, but knew exactly what I was talking about.  (Indeed, as I noted above, I had friends on the negotiating committee, as well as on the WGA board, and actually did know what I was talking about.  Rather an being an outsider pontificating.  I may have been biased, but I was biased based on facts.)

It turned out that Mr. Baldwin saw the column.  I know this because his next article was titled, "Quips are Killing Me" -- and the opening two lines of it were, "That Robert Elisberg keeps putting out funnier and funnier stuff. His 'quips; are killing me."  So, that was the first hint that he had read it.  He went on to make a number of criticisms about what I had written that I didn't think were remotely supported by reality, but personal opinion aside that's not what most caught my attention.  That's because the most bizarre and silly thing was -- for reasons unknown to man, he decided to out himself!!!  Inexplicably, he repeated the Marrying Man story, took credit, defended it, and insisted that it was ludicrous of me to suggest that even the great Neil Simon couldn't ever dare be criticized.  (Fun fact:  That was something which doesn't remotely exist in my article.  More on that in a moment, too...)

And yes, for those interested in if this is true, you can read his Quip article here, in all its self-aggrandizing glory.

Again, to reiterate, this story is already public.  I have told absolutely nothing new here about the articles, nor remotely secret.  The links are to articles long-since printed. 

Back to the tale.  As you can imagine, I was utterly flabbergasted that he chose to reveal his own participation in the event, especially after I had taken great pains to hide it all.  The best I can figure is that some actors really do just want to see their name in print, even if it makes them look like churlish.  Just make sure you spell my name right.

Most everything he wrote was so off that it was the world's easiest set-up to correct, like a grade school t-ball sitting on its perch just waiting to be aimed, leveled, and then knocked out of the park.  I SO much wanted to take it apart, line by line -- my typing fingers were aching -- but -- but -- I also knew that if I did, he'd reply.  And then I'd reply.  And he, and me and he and...and...and what I remembered was one of my favorite expressions from my good friend Nell Minow -- "Sometimes you have to be the adult in the room."

And so I chose to be the adult in the room, and let it slide.  And let all the reader comments from adoring Alec Baldwin acolytes sit un-replied to.  Instead, I moved on and for my next column about the WGA strike I covered it from another angle entirely.

And so 11 years have passed.  I think the statute of limitations have run out.  Even still, as before, I have no intention of dissecting his original article line-by-line.  I do admit there were a few things in it so egregiously wrong that to this day I've remembered then with wearily-shaking head.  And since it's no longer part of a "back-and-forth," with miniscule chance of it becoming one, I do think it's time to correct at least one aspect of the incredibly foolish record, especially since Neil Simon passed away last year at the age of 91.  As one writer to another (albeit that other typing on a higher plane), I feel it's his due.  And by the way, it was Neil Simon's passing that prompted my friend asking me to retell this tale.

In all Alec Baldwin's criticism and blame of Neil Simon for The Marrying Man, nowhere did Mr. Baldwin make note of some of the most obvious realities.  As much as he wanted to blame the script and did so repeatedly and at length -- he and Ms. Basinger had read the script and clearly liked it enough to sign a contract, get paid, and star in the movie of it.

Also, while the movie did flop, and likely the script did need additional work, Neil Simon was renowned throughout his acclaimed career for rewriting and rewriting and rewriting his material until he got it right.  And as the culture knows, Neil Simon got it incredibly right A Whole Lot.  (When I went to UCLA grad school, Neil Simon received an lifetime achievement award and gave a speech after.  I recall him talking about The Odd Couple, one of the great, and most successful comedies in the American theater, and how he still sees things in it he wishes he could fix.  The audience burst into disbelieving laughter.)  But as much as Neil Simon loved to rewrite and get everything as correct as he could, after being slammed on the set by the movie's two stars, he didn't need the aggravation, left the set and didn't do anymore work on it, letting the screenplay exist as it was.  And being a Neil Simon project, no one else could work on the script either.  So, the outburst didn't fix anything, it only served to be a self-fulfilling prophecy.  And nail the coffin lid closed.

It should noted, as well, that in all the blame he heaped on Neil Simon for the film's failure, nowhere did Mr. Baldwin suggest that just maybe, possibly, the actors didn't give performances that were totally strong and could have at least perhaps been one conceivable reason the film fell flat.

And in the end, as I said above, nowhere in my article did I suggest that Neil Simon -- or any writer -- can't be criticized.  Indeed, the favorite sport of Hollywood has long been to criticize writers.  Or "Schmucks with Underwoods," as studio mogul Louis B. Mayer called screenwriters and their typewriters.  "I have some notes..." is a phrase all screenwriters likely consider having chiseled on their gravestones.  The thing is, as we all know -- and by "all" I include all mature adults around the world whatever their profession and even many immature children -- there are good ways of criticizing and inane ways.  With a screenplay, a good way is sitting down with the writer and telling them what you don't think is working and why.  A very bad way is to yell out insults to the entire cast and crew about the most successful comedy playwright in the history of the theater, knowing that he can hear you, and topping that by shouting out, "Doesn't anybody here know how to write comedy?!!!!"

I think that over time Alec Baldwin has developed into a very good character actor.  He was an absolute joy on the TV series, 30 Rock.  Tina Fey and her writing staff gave him brilliant material, and nailed it most every time.

Hey, y'know, we all have flaws.  Some people just have more of them public than others.  And in the end, I've left out some of the tale because as interesting as some tangents may be, they're still just tangents. And also because, speaking personally, one of my own many flaws is that I often type for far too long.  But rest assured I'm almost done here...  And finishing, I'm quite certain that Mr. Baldwin couldn't care one single whit for what I think about this, or anything -- and far more likely doesn't have even the most-tenuous clue who I am.  Which is fine in the Grand Scheme of things.

And if he did have a clue, I'm pretty certain he'd think I was just a few steps below a slug.  Which is fine, as well, to each their own. Me, I'm glad that I have people like Greg Van Buskirk in my life. If ever I need a chemist to develop a formula for a new detergent, or take apart my motorcycle (if I had one), I know he'll be there for me.  

​And so, for those who don't remember it from the first time around, that's the tale my friend asked about...

If you missed last night's Last Week Tonight with John Oliver, the main story was an interesting one about Mount Everest.  Beginning with the peak first being surmounted by Sir Edmund Hilary and his sherpa guide Tensing Norgay, it has almost turned into a circus, but a very dangerous one.

This was of particular interest to me because back in the 1980s, my dad Ed took a trek into the Himalayas -- it was NOT up Mount Everest, and it was not even any sort of mountain climbing (all of which were the point of the show's report), though more of a strenuous hike with camping.  But even though his trek has zero to do with what John Oliver was addressing, it still leaped out to me because the sherpa guide for my dad's trip was...the renowned Tensing Norgay!  Over the next few decades, my dad always spoke with great love and pride of that trip and great admiration for Tensing.  

A fun, related family-story.  When my dad took his trek, he cleared it first with his cardiologist because the previous year he had had quadruple-bypass surgery.  He was in good-enough health to get the okay -- but the amusing thing is that when he described the upcoming trip to his cardiologist...the doctor became so fascinated by it that he himself signed up for the trip!  So, as my dad always quipped, you're going to take a trek in the Himalayas after having had quadruple heart-bypass surgery, the absolute best way to do it is with your personal cardiologist along.
​

We always live in the days of Summer.
Summer good days, Summer not.
We make the best of what we've got.
Summer cold days, Summer hot.

Early morning, the sun also rises.
Eyes open brightly, what you first realize is
The new day before you is full of surprises.
And biggest of all, it's exactly the same.

Struggling forever to get where you've gotten,
You've filed all the papers and you've picked all the cotton.
You've done all you can, gave it all your best shot, an'
You find, without trying, that you've lucked into fame.


We always live in the days of Summer.
Summer good days, Summer not.
We make the best of what we've got.
Summer cold days, Summer hot.


Shadows grow long, and your good reputation
Has allowed you to rise to an eminent station.
And you've even been honored by a most grateful nation.
If only they now would remember your name.

Deep beyond midnight when the light's far behind you,
You dream in the dark of the days that remind you
Of losing and winning and all that defined you.
And you smile at the joy of just playing the game.


We always live in the days of Summer.
Summer good days, Summer not.
We make the best of what we've got.
Summer cold days, Summer hot.

     (Repeat chorus twice)
​

Quite a bit has been made of the news on Wednesday when Rep. Jan Schakowsky (D-IL) announced that she supported an impeachment hearing.  Lawrence O'Donnell had her on his show last night to talk about it.  Among other things, she said that she had discussed her decision beforehand with Nancy Pelosi who did not try to talk her out of it -- although Schakowsky made clear that this shouldn't be taken to mean that Pelosi gave her tacit approval.

I mention all this because I've been a big fan of Jan Schakowsky for almost 15 years.  When my folks moved to their independent living residence in Glenview, the representative of their district was...Jan Schakowsky.  Actually, she wasn't at first -- it's an odd area that's split, and Schakwosky represented the other part that overlapped with Glenview.  And that was something that deeply disappointed me:  so close, yet so far.  But then, after redistricting, my folks joyously fell into her district (or did she fall into theirs?), which is now the Illinois-9th.  But I've paid attention to her for a long time, even before she represented them, as I said, and have thought from the start that she was wonderful, and even wrote her a few years back.

One thing to note.  In her conversation with O'Donnell she talked about how she had overwhelming support among her constituents for her decision, and added that it was a progressive area.  And that true.  But there is still a strong conservative undercurrent there -- not long ago, before the redistricting, that seat was held by Republican Mark Kirk, who later became one of the U.S. Senators from Illinois (until he had a stroke and was later defeated by Tammy Duckworth).  So, while Schakowsky is very popular -- she won in 2018 with about 73% of the vote -- and the district is Democratic and progressive, the general area is a mix of politics.  The Republicans there may not be of the far-right religious persuasion, but more of what we consider "traditional" Republicans (a rare breed these days) with a cross between being moderate Republican (an even rarer breed) and rock-solid, die-hard conservative.  One of my folks's dear friends there is a staunch Republican, probably for 70 years dating back to learning it from her father -- though when you talk to her, she will slam Democrats in general as a species, but when you discuss issues, it would be shocking to find he concerns so often liberal.  But she'd deny the label and always, always, always vote Republican.  Even though the party had drastically changed since the days of her father.  

But that's the area -- progressives and rock-sold Republicans for life.

So, while Jan Schakowsky does have the cover of knowing she's popular and strongly supported, she is surrounded by a wide range of conflicting views.  So, it's good to see her come forward so vocally and have the backing for it that she does.  And I think the reaction in the news to her specifically speaking out for impeachment hearings is that she's always been considered a very thoughtful, fair-minded representative.  And if her foundation is progressive, she has had to work closely with a conservative voice that overlaps with her.

By the way, before we wind things up, a brief digression:  be grateful that I didn't go with the title I initially thought of, which was going to be  "Schak-IL -- Oh, Kneel."  But I thought that was stretching things far too much for a joke.

When I moved recently, I had to cancel my Spectrum cable account and then get the new Spectrum system for my new address.  There are many good things about the new system -- which is cloud-based -- though some options take far-too many extra clicks to accomplish which is a bit annoying.  But that's not the point here:  bottomline, some things better, some worse, fine.

The larger issue is that, being a new, cloud-based system, all the hiccups haven't been worked out yet.  Like often getting an error message, "We're sorry, the program guide can't be accessed right now."  Or the screen image gets all pixilated and becomes unwatchable.  And other cloud-glitches.

By the way, lest you get the wrong idea, this isn't a rant about Big Cable, or technical support, or any of the normal complaints available to make about cable.  It's about idiocy.  I'll get to that.

So, to be clear, the problem here isn't that there are hiccups in a new system.  I write about technology and understand that new versions of software do have bugs that need to get worked out.  But -- what I also understand is that generally they get "worked out" during the beta testing program and before the product is released to the public to pay for.  And though that's not the issue here either, being a beta tester AND paying a lot of money each month for the honor is not a good standard, and is the foundation of the point at hand.

Yes, there are annoyances, but I do get it.  Life is full of annoyances, and I don't expect cable to be any different.  I do have other expectations, though, and we're about to get to that.

A few nights ago, there was a bigger problem than usual.  Again, not The Worst Problem in the World at all -- -- they took the system down in the late evening, rather than a more sensible 3 AM morning -- but a big enough deep sigh "final straw" to call Spectrum the next day to discuss my beta tester status.

I knew it wasn't the tech person's fault, and I was thoroughly polite.  In fact, I explained all the things I liked about the new system, as well as a few of the bigger problems.  Actually, I wasn't even going to mention the specifics, but the customer support fellow kept asking me, because he wanted to make a record of it.  Good for him.  In fact he did a good job.  Mainly, I just wanted to make the point that Spectrum should never have released the system until it was ready and instead make subscribers the beta testers who pay for the honor.  He understood all the problems, he'd heard of them from others, and understood too the issue of releasing the software before it was ready.

Now, when I make calls like this in the past, I tend to leave it there to see how customer service handles things.  When I'm had problem with Spectrum in the past, for instance, they've always said they'd rebate the cost of service for that day of the problem.  No, it's not much but they make the effort.  Fine.  Good for them.

This fellow was very polite, but clearly wasn't authorized to do more than ask questions and be polite.  Finally, realizing this, I did what I almost never do.  I said that having to pay A LOT to be a tester of a system screwing up A LOT, is not how things should be, and I thought it would be proper to get some sort of rebate for all the times the software isn't working.

And that gets us to the point.  Yes, I know, it took a while to get here, but hopefully the ride was comfortable.

The short version (oh, now, I hear you cry, he inserts a "short version"...)  is that the fellow had to go check with his supervisors what he could do.  After about 10 minutes -- coming back on line every once in a while to thank me for my patience -- he said with great pride that he could offer me...a whole $10 rebate!  Although (and this is the good part), he made clear very pointedly to make sure I understand that this is a One-Time Only Offer for the year.  Yes, they would rebate that $10, but wouldn't be able to do so again until next year.  "How was that?" he asked.

All I could do was laugh.  Literally.  I said I knew it wasn't his policy, and I appreciated all the time he'd spent on the line, and I thanked him for diligently checking to get that answer -- "But," I added, "You do know that that is ridiculous."

And it was ridiculous.  It's not just that the amount is paltry -- honestly, I wasn't looking for a big pay day -- but the "one-time only" limitation was insulting.  It's as if they're doing you a favor.  Worse, it means when the system keeps screwing up, as it will, and already has, they're off the hook.  And it doesn't take much effort to now that there is a wide range of things they could have done instead, including for just one example, offer a premium service for a month.  It would cost them absolutely zero, and it could even make them money if you end up liking it and subscribing.  But no, $10 one-time only rebate for the year.  On a bill, for some people -- if they have lots of add-on premium extras, get their phone service and also mobile service --  of $4,000 to a year, I would imagine.

I knew that that was the resolution, and let the matter dropped.  There was no need to continue the conversation, and I said goodbye and thanks, and then hung up.

Again, I understand software problems.  I even understand using subscribers to test your software while telling them they're getting The Latest technology.  And I understand that the tech glitches are only occasional, albeit steady.  I have no huge issue with that.  The benefits of cable are worth it to me.  And I've pleased well-enough with Spectrum tech support.

But then I also understand dealing with tech companies, which I have done professionally for the past 20 years, writing my tech review column for the Writers Guild of America, and at one point the TV Academy.  And $10 for a one-time only yearly rebate -- from a corporate monopoly -- is...ridiculous.  Indeed, more to the point, it's foolishly short-sighted. And counter-productive, since it risks driving customers away who might be paying for ALL of Spectrum's services, not just having a TV hiccup.

Yes, I know, it's cable.  Many people have far-worse cable problems.  But this really isn't about "problems."  It's that I'm still laughing at the "We can give you $10!!  Once."  And if we screw up again, it's on you.

But what makes me most annoyed it that I didn't reply, "That's okay -- you keep the 10 bucks.  Spectrum clearly needs it more than I do."