I know it's been a while since I've posted a blog - and I'm sorry. I have several that I've written, just never completed. So this is the first in a series that I hope to post within the next few weeks.

The Blab Off

Back in the dark ages of television, and you needed an antenna on your roof to receive a TV signal. In the 1950’s, in Los Angeles there were five channels that most of sets in the greater Los Angeles basin were able to receive – broadcasted from Mount Wilson. KCBS, KNBC, KABC (the own and operated of the networks) and two independents, KTLA, and KTTV.

KTTV and KTLA were the first stations to receive a license from the Federal Communications Agency to broadcast a television signal into the L.A. basin. I won’t bore you with the details, other than to say that obtaining a broadcasting license from the FCC for a radio (first regulated) and a television station was more restricted then, than it is now.

Reception in the Los Angeles greater area was one of the best in the nation, being able to transmit from far above the San Fernando valley and Los Angeles.

A well adjusted antenna was a status symbol of the mid modern suburb. A perfect signal was to receive channels 2 through 13 without channel 2 having a lot of snow because if you did you couldn’t watch “Gunsmoke”.

As I recall, we could receive all of them.

I remember as a child, getting our first television. I couldn’t have been more than five or six at the time. It’s implanted in my mind so clearly that even to this day I remember my father placing it a corner of the living room so it could be viewed from anywhere you sat.

At some point we even bought a plastic screen covering that was tinted a light orange at the top which faded to a green at the bottom so we could watch “color” TV. It lasted all of 2 weeks before it ended up in some drawer never to be seen again.

All TV stations were required by the FCC to produce a certain amount of programming locally. And they also had to devote a certain amount of time to local and national/international news (that had to be operated very much like a non-profit), children’s programming and cultural/arts. It didn’t matter if you were a “owned and operated by” (o and o) or an independent who bought programming from and o and o or some other source.

Oh, and any one entity could only own seven radio and/or TV stations in the country. This law was passed to create a diversity in opinion and to prevent any one broadcaster from being able to sway public opinion. Too bad that law isn’t in place today, thank you Ronald Regan and George W. Bush.

But getting back to when I was a kid and there were only five TV stations in Los Angeles.

Before there were remote controls for your television, you had to manually get up and turn the dial to find the station you wanted to watch. As there were only a few, you could subscribe to the TV Guide that sent out a weekly listing of shows (also notating which were repeats and which were not), or simply refer to the listing in the L.A. Mirror, Times, or Daily paper. In our case, we even had a local paper, the Downey Livewire.

But that said, you could easily map out your TV evening that generally began after dinner and only have to get up a few times to change the channel.

And just as today, commercials interrupted the programming with annoying national commercials and even more annoying local commercials of “Cal Worthington and his dog Spot”.

I’m sure I wasn’t the first to come up with this idea, but I did capitalize on it. The Blab Off. This was a simple switch that had a 10 foot cord. It interrupted the signal going to the speaker of the TV set. So from your chair you could turn off the sound on your TV without getting up and turning off the volume.

I went into the business of making, selling and installing these Blab Off’s” to all our friends and neighbors. As I recall for all of $.50, maybe it was a dollar. My allowance was only twenty-five cents, so I considered that a fair amount of money at the ripe old age of 10.

Slowly TV manufactures caught up to the idea that people didn’t like to get out of their chairs to change the channel or adjust the volume, and developed a remote box tethered to the TV by a thick cable. Revolutionary!

It was cumbersome, people tripped over the cable disabling the TV, and overall it was more trouble than it was worth. As early as 1957 Zenith invented a remote control affectionately called “the clicker” – a remote control about the size of a pack of cigarettes that used ultrasonic sound produced by clicking 3 tonal rods to change channels and control volume. It added another $100 to the price of a TV so it’s not surprising that the technology did not become affordable until the 1960’s.

Of course the technology of today’s remote controls uses infrared red to communicate a vast selection of command choices at your finger tips.

And we have become ever so dependent on personal remote technology, from the wireless signal to our computers to opening our garage doors, and much more. But still the one that seems indispensable is the TV/Cable remote control that allows us to silence commercials and change channels at will.

Last night I dropped the remote control. It didn’t work. What was I going to do? I thought, ok, I’ll use the cable box to change the channels. But it was black, and I couldn’t see what controls were what. Using a flash light I realized there was no mute button, so I couldn’t mute the commercials. I couldn’t program in what stations I wanted to watch and I was so close to the flat screen I couldn’t see what was on TV. Settling on a program I wanted to watch, I sat back in my chair enjoying it until the first commercial, when I wished I’d installed a “Blab Off”!

Ain’t technology great!

Jack's Rant January 12, 2010

Men of a Certain Age…

I watched this new TV series this evening. I’d watched it before and found it well written and an excellent cast. Amusing, insightful and almost too truthful. But the men of a “certain” age are in their forties. I found the series engaging and one that I could relate to. And then it hit me, I’m twenty years older than any of the men in this series and I’m thinking that this is my peer group. In truth, when I was forty, most of my peer group was in their late 20’s early 30’s, and I realized that as I’ve gotten older, once my peer group hit forty, I have found younger people to hang out with in addition to my “older” friends.

Never mind that they refer me as “Uncle” Jack; it’s endearing after all and I’m old enough to be most of their fathers, or worst, grandfather! At least they don’t call me “gramps” to my face.

My assessment of all of this is rather depressing… I’ve growen… I can’t even say it. The word is “Old!!!”

But the new forty is sixty, right? Because the simple fact of the matter is, if I don’t work for another fifteen years, I’m never going to be able to retire. But then what would I do if I did that?

When I moved from my twenties to my thirties I didn’t think much about it. I didn’t look much different, didn’t act much different, I was the same guy. But toward the end of the thirties I did start to put on some weight, and I did look a little older. No big deal, watch what I eat and I dropped the pounds. (And those men’s face creams that became popular then, wow!)

When I turned forty, I noticed that the Time Magazine that came out that very week had the headline on the front page “Baby Boomers Turn Forty”. I was so in denial that I really thought it was my thirty-ninth birthday, not my fortieth!

The fortieth birthday went pretty much unnoticed other than being dragged up on stage at a local San Francisco hot spot and made a spectacle of by the singing group “The Pink Things” with all the honors one would expect of such a performance.

Then I turned fifty! FIFTY! WHAT THE HELL, when did that happen???? And it was celebrated in a grand style with a garden party hosted by my sister and catered by my favorite Chinese restaurant. In my usual style, as it was an Asian theme party, replete with Chinese lanterns held by bamboo polls, everyone was required to wear silk to the party. And a roast by all my “oldest and dearest” friends, that as “Mame” put it best, “Your sense of style is far off as your youth, who else but a good companion could point out the obvious truths!”

But it seemed clear to me, I’m on the down side of the slope.

And there you have it. I’m a man of a certain age, just not of that age.

Hey, maybe they can make a TV series about that as well!

January 3, 2010

Diplomacy, a lost art.

Diplomacy might be referred to as a way of telling someone they’re full of shit and them feeling good about it.

In actuality, it is pretty simple, it’s one person being civil to another.

Now the English made a sport of it, the French a mockery of it, the Germans an abuse of it and the Italians a disregard for it.

It would be nice if there was some common ground that we could all find to deal with it. I refer to it as a code of civil ethics. It’s something that very few people practice, if at all.

Believe it or not, I like to live by this code, and, stupidly, I hope others would also operate under these guidelines.

First: a person does not act out of malice (unless you’ve pissed them off to do so or vice versa). Generally speaking their actions are of good intent and from those actions would expect positive responses. If one is in doubt of one’s action to the contrary, it is important to explore what the motivations (good or bad) are and obtain all the facts before jumping to conclusions.

Second: weight the results of your actions and their responses. Ask for an explanation before assuming that their action has damaged you, and see if they have a solution to what you might think has influenced you. Although you may think you may believe that you are in the right, the consequence of your response might very well be to your detriment.

Third: Never put a potential opponent on the defensive, if at all possible. Rather engage them in finding a common ground. Ask them how they think it can be best resolved. Or offer a resolution.

But any politeness that might have remained in this world has been lost for all but a few who might remember getting sent to their room without dinner for lack of it.

Forgiveness is all but a forgotten art, and vengeance is something that seems like it’s been resurrected from the crusades.

I have a saying, when you put rules on others, you put rules on yourself. Let me know what the rules are and I’ll try like hell to follow them. But, it’d be nice, just once, for someone to follow any rules at all.

Welcome to 2010. The “I’m the only one who matters on the planet” generation!

December 31, 1009

And That’s the Way it Was, 2009

No Virginia, 2010 is not the beginning of a new decade. Contrary to popular belief, 2011 is the beginning of the new decade. It’s really quite simple. “Deca” means ten; you start with the number one, and count accordingly. Just as 2000 was not the beginning of a new millennium, 2001 was, as you start with the number one, not zero, as zero is not a number. Got it?

When I started writing this blog earlier this year, I did so for several selfish reasons. Primarily to have some creative outlet to voice my opinion in hopefully some cogent manner on any subject that happened to catch my attention. The second was to spawn someone to think about something in a different light (or think about it at all!)

This year was full of change, and a polarization of politics that has not been seen since Abraham Lincoln was sworn into office in 1861.

I’ll be brief as the political pontiffs on both sides of the fence have beat this one and watched it bleed to their own amusement. Simply put; shame on both parties for branding to their own self interests instead of the best interest of the American people.

The media frenzy that has followed has been nothing less than deplorable, and their unrelenting attention to events that had absolutely no influence on the world as we know it has been nothing less than remarkable for the distraction that it caused away from the true issues that the media need to focus on.

But let’s face it, we don’t want to hear that the planet is going to hell in a hand basket, we’d rather be distracted by what drugs Michael Jackson was taking when he died, that’s real journalism in it purest form, right. That’s Pulitzer Prize reporting at its finest! Less we forget about President Obama having received the Nobel peace prize. Some peace we have! I don’t even have peace of mind!

I’m sorry, President Bush learned nothing from the war in Iraq, other than to make all of his closest friends extremely wealthy. Did you know that food service to our troops is no longer a duty of “KP”, it’s out sourced to private firms. Big business when you’re serving 3 square meals to thousands of American troupes every day; do the math! And that’s just the tip of the preverbal iceberg. Where’s Molly Brown when you need her?

And now we’re involved in a war in Afghanistan/Pakistan against an allusive enemy that we’re not even sure who they are, yet alone where they are in a part of the world that is so inhospitable not even the people who live there want to. And are governed by one of the most corrupt political systems in the world (I guess we set a pretty good standard).

We’re spending BILLIONS of dollars to protect the “homeland” abroad. What if we spent those billions improving our schools, roads, power grids and investing in local economies, we’d have the infrastructure to defend ourselves from these “enemies” at home, where we should! I’ll say it “GET OUT OF IRAQ AND AFGHANISTAN NOW!”

And of course there was the financial bail outs. Started by the prior administration and carried on by the newly elected one, the plan has been to infuse money into small businesses.

Guess what, the banks aren’t lending money to small businesses. Surprise, surprise! God forbid they should aid a democratic half black, half white president succeed in their all white world!

Now you’re thinking, “oh, you can’t say that, that’s taboo!” It’s time we call a spade a spade!

Case in point; I am retained as a consultant for a small business, and they received a letter from their bank, a small enterprise that specializes in regional business banking, stating that they had received $140 million in government stimulus dollars to lend to their small business clients.

This is a no brainer. The business has a great credit history, as do the owners of the business, a corporation, the business has hard assets of over six million dollars so establishing a line of credit with the bank should be a slam dunk.

Think again. In 1996, one of the principals of the business was involved in another business (also a corporation) that filed for bankruptcy. Thirteen years ago, and guess what, the bank rejected a line of credit for $50,000 because of that.

So it’s business as usual and the money that has been given to banks to spur the economy as ended up in interest bearing accounts to the bank’s own interest. Never mind that 5 people could have been kept on the payroll for 3 months instead of being laid off and collecting unemployment, oh, which by the way cost the system more, and this small business more in unemployment taxes in the future.

Every cause has an effect, Aristotle was one to put it into some objective prospective, however, we have taken it to extremes.

“The horse is out of the barn, lock the barn”.

Yet again, when a would be terrorist tried to blow himself up on an airplane all of a sudden, AFTER the event, there’s “heightened” security at every U.S. airport. Never mind that this guy got on the plane in the Netherlands, not on U.S. soil. How could Homeland Security let something like this happen???

The last time I checked, the Netherlands wasn’t part of the U.S., it’s not a territory and I don’t believe that they’ve ever given any thought to joining the good ole U S of A. They’d have to give up their universal health care!

But in the news they did say that their information on terrorists was not as “robust” as that of the U.S. They probably don’t have innocent citizens in their database like we do.

But in the end, someone, a customs official or someone from the U.S. embassy had to take his passport, scan it, take a rubber stamp and issue a visa to this fellow for him to enter this fine country. They have the list, don’t they? Or, maybe not. In any case, the guy, who had explosives wrapped around his waist, got through airport security, with a visa and got on the plane. So now we are even more inconvenienced when flying than we were before (that I find really hard to believe!)

And speaking of visas, did you know that if you live in Latin or South America, you have to pay a $500 filing fee to apply for a visa (per person) to visit the U.S.? Now, that doesn’t mean you’ll get a visa, it could be denied and guess what, we keep the five-hundred bucks!

Airport security, or the TSA. Now I did a lot of traveling in ’06 and ’07. Went through the take off your shoes, belt, jacket, remove your laptop from its case and do the merry dance at the end to reassemble your things without the room to properly do it as your pants begin to slip down below your waist. In my travels I did notice one thing. Among the people working for the TSA there was a lack of racial diversity. And I’ll go as far as to say that the organization is ripe with nepotism, among other things.

What I found most disturbing, however, was a conversation I overheard while eating lunch one day, where a woman in the booth next to mine was confiding with a friend saying that her brother worked for the TSA and he could get her anything she wanted; a Rolex, digital camera, jewelry – you name it; for a price, of course.

Now these are people whom we are trusting with our safety, and our luggage, which, by law, has to remain unlocked, even though they run it through an x-ray machine that has enough gamma rays to wipe out a small city. On several occasions I found a card in my luggage left by the TSA saying that they had opened the bag to hand inspect it. Jockey shorts, socks, some folded shirts and a pair of shoes. Maybe they thought I had a bomb in the heals of my shoes. Can’t be to careful, can we!

Once I paid cash for my ticket. When I got to the security gate, they pulled me aside, placed me in a separate room, tested my baggage for chemical residue and had me strip down to my underwear. It wasn’t a pretty picture, I can tell you that! But I was obviously flagged as a person of suspicion because I didn’t use a credit card (and therefore traceable), even though I did have to present my drivers license.

This is madness in the highest degree! It takes longer to fly to San Francisco now because of all the crap you have to go through than to drive the five hours, and you don’t have to disrobe once!

So here we are, at the end of another year. Many people think this was worse than 2008, that the recession has been really bad. It is my belief that most folks in 2008 didn’t understand the severity of the recession and thought as soon as we got a new guy in office all would be well with the world. But in truth what people realized is that it’s going to take more than a new face in the White House for all to be back the way it was. It isn’t, it will probably not be, at least in my lifetime, like it was. We were all mesmerized by how much money we could borrow and spend, rather than the hard truth that at some point you have to pay the bill.

And no, Virginia, Santa Claus isn’t going to bail us out, it’s something we’re going to have to do on our own.

Happy New Year!

Jack's Rant November 1

Eureka!

Under the gaze of Minerva, the Roman goddess of wisdom, a miner works near the Sacramento River. A grizzly bear rests at her feet and ships ply the river. The Sierra Nevada mountains rise in the background. Wildlife, agriculture, natural beauty, commerce, and opportunity are all represented on California’s Great Seal.

The state motto, Eureka, sits over the mountains. A Greek word that means "I have found it," Eureka refers the discovery of gold in California. The miner, working with a pick, is another reference to the gold that was found in California. A pan and a rocker are also depicted on the seal near the miner. The pan was used to separate the gold from the dirt; just add water. The rocker is a larger and more sophisticated "pan." It allowed miners to process more dirt and sand faster. At the time the seal was designed, people were coming from all over the world looking to "strike it rich" in the gold fields.

Bureaucrats!

As usual, the French are responsible for coining the name “bureaucrat” – translated, desk official. Or more important, one who makes getting something processed more difficult in order to make their job more important.

As a side note, did you know that the term “red tape” came from the Veteran’s Administration after the Civil War, where their records were kept wrapped in red tape. Bureaucrats and red tape go hand in hand.

The state of California is full of these bureaucrats. The state government is riddled with them in more numbers than a local school district. People used to strike it rich discovering gold in our state, now they strike it rich working for the state government.

And as a citizen of the “richest” state in the union, I, like so many Californians have to question why we are the worst state in the union as far as school ratings, credit ratings (I don’t think I’m going to buy a water bond anytime soon) and billions of dollars in debt. At least that’s what we’re told by our wonderful govenator and the people who allegedly represent us in the state’s legislator body. There’s no end to the excuses that we have heard. But the simple truth is that we need to cut the fat where it needs to be cut. At the top!

Just like the rest of government, this state needs a complete overhaul, which, of course, we know, will not happen. But, as Voltaire said – “this is the best of the best of all possible of worlds” and anything is possible, if not highly unlikely!

Now the reason I am addressing this today is that last week we received a perfect example of how bureaucratic the state of California really is.

Every year S corporations are required by the state to file a “Statement of Information”. This form needs to be filed by the 15th of September along with a $25 check. As I had processed this form last year, I simply pulled up the one that I had filed from the previous year, changed the date from ’08 to ’09 and sent it on its merry way.

Last week the form, along with the check was returned with a note “The name of the corporation has to appear exactly as the state has it registered.” Now, mind you, they accepted the very same form last year, why are they returning it this year?

The state provided me with a copy of how they would accept the name and in comparing the two I had put a comma at the end of the company name before Inc. and a period after Inc, whereas the state had not.

So some state bureaucrat had to take the time to open our filing, review the form and determine that it did not match the one on file (God forbid you should have periods and commas in your name), fill out a form and an envelope, print them out, staple the check to our filing along with their form, stuff it in an envelope and spend 43 cents in postage so they could receive the filing exactly as they needed it. That whole exercise had to cost more than the $25 dollar filing fee!

What the heck is going on??? Clearly this is a prime example of a state government gone amuck, mired in bureaucratic nonsense so yet another non compos menace can keep their job.

And we wonder why the state is in such a mess. Eureka! It’s the bureaucrats!

Jack's Rant, October 11

“A dining experience, I shall not soon forget, unfortunately!”

Last Friday afternoon I found myself helping a friend get moved into his new digs in Garden Grove.

After a productive trip to Target, we decided to get some dinner, and as it happens there are several restruants across the street from where we were. There is a Joe’s Crab Shack, an Outback and a place called Buca di Beppo. It looked nice enough. There was a queue of people at the door; at least it’s popular. The neon sign above the entrance read “Immigrant Italian Dining”. It made me wonder, if I’m not an Italian immigrant, can I enter?

When we entered we were greeted by two seater-greeters and assured us that we’d have a table in no time.

As I sat in the entry waiting I noticed a full size cut out of Danny DeVito. That should have been the first clue that we should leave the place post haste! Also, I noticed that when people were being seated, they were led through the kitchen. The host had some pre-memorized spiel that I couldn’t quite understand.

When we were sat, I was disappointed that we were not led through the kitchen. I guess we didn’t look the type that would be interested in that type of thing.

The whole place was like a labyrinth of rooms, all gaudily decorated with tasteless kitsch, including colored Christmas lights strung around holographic pictures of the Pope. Was this some kind of joke that I’m not getting? It did remind me of the Spaghetti Factory in San Francisco of the early ‘70’s, maybe that was the vibe they were going for. "Far Out!"

Once seated, and viewing the menu, it occurred me that all the food was served “family style” and al a carte and it was expensive! But I thought, leftovers!

The menu that we ordered was a Caesar salad to start, garlic bread, fettuccini Alfredo, chicken Marsala and short ribs, at least that’s what it said on the menu.

A big crisp salad with the bread was promptly delivered and it was your formula Caesar, very favorable, as was the bread. Then came the chicken; three large breast with three large mushrooms that had be halved.

Now, I’ve ordered chicken Marsala a number of times from various eateries over the years and NEVER have I seen it served like this. The chicken was not halved and pounded to a quarter of an inch in thickness, nor were they tossed in flour prior to cooking. The mushrooms were sautéed in the sauce, such as they were. OK, they’re doing their own take on it… but wait, the sign in front said “Immigrant Italian Dining”. There was nothing immigrant or Italian about this dish. And then I tasted the sauce. If I’m not mistaken it was flavored with honey!!! Or very sweet sherry, not cooking sherry, as some recipes require. The chicken was not over cooked so with the pasta, it was eatable.

The short ribs were another story. It came out boned, two long stringy pieces of beef that had the consistency of a pot roast without the flavor, in a brown gravy peppered with tomato, onion, carrots and celery. All in all the meal was pretty bad with the exception of the salad and the pasta.

So I’m looking around the place and it’s packed and I’m thinking to myself, are these people’s taste buds so numbed by bad fast food that they think a place like this is good? Or have I just become a food snob.

And I think to myself, that clearly is the case, as the waiter brought the $89 bill. For that amount of money I believe I can be a bit of a snob expecting something more from a chain restaurant called Bucco di Beepo which translated literally means “Joe’s Hole”, I should have known!

Jack's Rant September 23

“I’m so tired…”

Such were the words from Madeline Kahn doing her best Marlene Dietrich imitation in Mel Brook’s “Blazing Saddles”, and I’m very much feeling that way, tired. I realize that I haven’t posted anything on my blog in over a month, I don’t have an excuse, I’m just tired! And that the subject matter has always been me voicing an opinion on some subject or giving some sage insight on something in the news. But not today.

Today is about me. I’m not an unhappy person as a rule, and generally don’t let things get under my skin. No sense in that. And in that regard, keeping a diary, or the modern day blog, like Carrie Bradshaw in “Sex and the City” for all to read has never much appealed to me. Keep it private. Also, despite what I may say, my life really isn’t that exciting. My work could be construed as interesting, some even might venture to say, glamorous. But in the end, it’s a job, with a 140 mile commute every day. So driving consumes between 3 to 4 hours of my day. That’s far from glamorous, it’s more like arduous, truth be told and it tires me out. I listen to NPR, that becomes tiresome at times.

We do work on some interesting things. But, anyone who’s ever been associated with the making of a feature film knows that the actual shooting of a film versus the post production of a film, it’s the post that takes the time. In that regard, the work we do here is not seen for 6 months to a year after we complete our magic, so, me talking about what we are working on won’t be seen for some time, and it’s not like you can run out and see it the next week. Also, I walk a thin line as to divulging what we’re working on as the studios want to keep everything under wraps and control the press on their projects. In that regard, we sign non-disclosures that don’t even allow us to show any of the work we do unless it is approved in advance by the studios. That's tiresome.

“Zombieland” is due out on October second, we did all the makeup effects and carnage on that one. We seldom get a sneak preview of anything we work on. We weren't even invited to the premiere. Like the rest of you, we have to buy a ticket. Or, in my case, wait until in comes out on DVD or watch it on HBO. “Zombieland” is a horror/comedy – and from what I HAVE seen, not something I’m going to run out and buy a ticket to see, but for all of you who do like that kind of thing, it should be a screem!

Another thing I’m tired of is having to deal with, what I refer to as the “family dynamic”. Briefly this means that any time I have something that needs done around the house, the job has to be given to one of the family members who may or may not get around to do it. For 4 months now I’ve asked that the wardrobe boxes that sit on the deck be disposed off – I’ve even paid money to have them removed. But they still sit there, gathering dust, and at some point will get rained on.

This spring I hired my nephew to remove the prickly cucumber vines from the yard, as they are a huge nuisance and look very unsightly. He did a great job, not one of them has come back. He pruned some of the trees in the process left all the cut branches in neat piles, and some 5 months later have become the favorite resting spot for spiders and other critters, despite my request, and to pay more money, to have them removed. It’s all very tiring.

I’m sure that you’ve grown tired of hearing my petty gripes so I guess I’ll just “retire” from this for now.