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Dear ol' Mom, such a unique sense of style, it never failed to get her noticed. She was always ahead of the latest trend... some times way, way ahead…..... she did for sleeveless frocks in the 50’s what Joan Crawford did for shoulder pads in the 40s.

With no sleeve to bear its enormous weight Mom very conveniently wore her heart on her actual forearms or biceps. Oh she knew about commitment, make no mistake.

Above all else we could always count on Mother's clever je ne sais quoi (a quality no one could quite put their finger on but since it got her out of jail on more than one occasion we didn’t really question it) and her genius capacity for putting people at ease like the PTA for example. After all it was this "quoi" that helped Mom to reel in a catch like Dear ol'Dad.

She didn't cook but if the way to her mans heart was through his stomach then to his stomach she would go. Only instead of brandishing a spatula Mom brought her tattoo-grip to the party and the rest as they say is history, or in this case an actual history book. Indelibly written over the once sinewy folds and unforeseen crannies of Dads epidermis. This was a match made in Heaven.

Someone once said of Dad "the guy's got a face like the inside of a spaghetti squash" and I would have to agree, he was a handsome devil. One of the best plumbers in the business Dad brought new meaning to the art of cleaning pipes. He earned his reputation by burrowing his way through the burrows of New York one leaky drainpipe (and shameless housewife) at a time. And that reputation would precede him for all of the days of his life (on the outside).

There's plenty more to tell about my parents and their many contributions to my minor delinquencies. But for the time being this brief stencil of my life, sketched out by a woman who almost single handedly changed the course of fashion will have to suffice.

Subsequent posts will offer a more revealing glimpse into my personal gene pool or as Mom & Dad liked to call it, the family inkwell. I'll share graphic accounts of growing up carnival and talk about permanent labels that come with that territory.

Plus a lesson in painting life with broad strokes, how to needle your way into a mans heart and advice from Dad himself on the ins and outs of doing life in the slammer. Until then, friends.



Anyway, I'm wondering if you can identify the guy in these photos. I couldn't have 3 weeks ago and then I saw a documentary about him on Showtime called "Mayor of the Sunset Strip (2003) a look at the history of fame in the world through the eyes of pop star impresario, Rodney Bingenheimer. The story of Rodney's rise to fame is told by one huge industry name after another, all extolling the virtues of knowing Bingenheimer as mountains of photos flicker against the narratives.

Actor Sal Mineo gave him the nickname of "Mayor of the Sunset strip", he has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame (around the 700 block) and these photos only scratch the surface of famous people he knows personally.

Along the way Rodney Bingenheimer managed to touch the lives and careers of enough famous people to choke a horse. He's been a household name to people like Sonny and Cher and Andy Warhal for decades and in some circles, he still is. A DJ at KROQ-FM Radio since the 60s, Rodney's claim to fame was picking hit records.

For years he was a constantly evolving fixture as rock fan, journalist, promoter and club owner. In short the guy is well connected. A connector of people, the guy who gets things done for other people, the go-to guy for just about anything a rock star or artist could want in Hollywood. Sonny Bono liked him so that for a while he invited Rodney to tag along with him where ever he went and Andy Warhol loved having him around too.

But do you see something sad about Rodney in the first photo? me too, and it comes through in "Mayor of the Sunset Strip". They filmed a visit with Rodney and his parents who proudly walked the crew through the house pointing out family photographs. You hear a voice off-camera ask: "where are your photos of Rodney?" His parents looked blankly at each other, then the Mother piped up and asked the Father to go fetch the album filled with Rodney memorabilia in the other room. The Father came back a few minutes later with a letter sized envelope which held a couple of old newspaper clippings and one childhood photo of poor Rodney. It was a sad moment but you didn't see him flinch, he just walked through the moment as if he'd lived it a million other times.

He still has a radio show on KROQ-FM but it airs in the middle of the night. Some speculate that KROQ-FM is afraid to let Rodney go for fear they'll rock the boat and alienate his influential friends. The fact that Rodney hangs on is evidence that he may not have the juice he once did, and I'm not sure the documentary shows him in the best light, but any story about a sweet, awkward, unassuming guy in the midst of a movement that literally "rocked" the world seems worth telling.

Rodney with John & Yoko

Rodney with Bob Dylan

Rodney with Jimmy Hendrix

Rodney with Andy Warhol



Almost immediately after posting Please Make It Stop Part l I started building my list for part two. You know how that is. You spend a little time on a subject, think you have it all wrapped up and then find yourself in line at the bank feeling the guy behind yous breath on your neck because he has no concept of personal space. Eww

Make it stop, PLEASE:

1. Disclaimers at the end of commercials where the guy talks really, really fast so he can get all the fine print in ... Along with side effect disclaimers at the end of frikin 3 minute long prescription drug TV commercials. Geeeezzzzusss

2. Screaming crowds of overly excited street spectators on early morning news shows like TODAY.. then they add background music to that, then Matt Lauer talks over all of it. This makes me very grumpy.

3. Opening video clips on blog posts. I'm sorry, but my computer goes down every single time, and not in a good way. I know I'm not alone on this, right people?

4. Background music on blogs. Once again I'm sorry, as much as I love to read other peoples blogs, I find the background music distracting, it's rarely music I would deliberately listen to, and it take longer for the page to open. I love you, but Stop It!

5. TV or movie scenes depicting women giving birth. I know this makes me sound like a big shrew since giving birth is such an awesome thing. But I don't want to see your knees spread in the air under a sheet, and I definitely don't want to hear you scream for 15 minutes. It's not entertaining or funny. Let's just fade to black and move on to the next scene where the baby's cooing in your arms.

6. Main stream media bias. At the very minimum, news anchors should refrain from actually smirking with their delivery of certain news pieces, and this goes for written media too. Not everybody is susceptible to drinking the cool aid, so back off!

7. Harvey Levin straw sucking on TMZ ... why does he always have to suck on something? Isn't he like in his late 40s? It's so not attractive.

8. Girl on girl cat fighting, i.e., Real Housewives, Bad Girls, Any Kardashian and I'm sure the list goes on... make it stop right away. It only perpetuates bad taste and I'm sure a lot of parents let their youngsters watch this garbage.

9. Hair extensions have become boarder line creepy. They are not authentic looking, I can spot them a mile away and EVERYONE wears them. I will admit to going with a similar trend when I was younger, but now I'm old and less tolerant so I'm putting it out there.

Don't worry, this will be my final PLEASE MAKE IT STOP... To balance things out I'll be adding a post entitled PLEASE GIVE ME MORE very soon.



When I come across a blog post that includes a video I run like hell because for some reason if I give in to the temptation to click "play", there's always hell to pay. A browser issue perhaps, or it could be my antiquated computer, regardless, it turns into an experience that sends me reeling into bitch mode followed by a reboot, grrrr....

That's why I rarely post videos on my own blog. However this snippet of a documentary entitled "Let's Face It: women explore their aging faces" by Wendy Oser, Joan Levinson, Beverley Spence warrants an exception to that rule because it really hit home for me. If it doesn't hit home for you, you're not there yet, but if you're a woman pushing either side of fifty it should resonate.

OKAY.... what did I tell you? I tried to post the video but it overtook the page and has put me on the verge of a tizzy. Sorry... if you're interested, just click on the link above and enjoy. More later..



I Googled the word "aging" yesterday and this photo popped up again. I wonder about this poor woman, who she is and how she must feel about having her face splashed all over creation..... and with an expiration date stamped across her brow no less.

According to popular belief she's too feeble minded to know how to turn on a computer much less surf the net so she could be blissfully unaware of the exploitation..... but I wonder....

Photos like this speak volumes about where ageism is in this country. How about alive, well and free to dwell in cyberspace ..... but an expiration date? Really?

Maybe using a bar code like they do on cottage cheese wouldn't be so offensive, or what about stamping it on a less obvious body part like the bottom of the foot or something..... but right across the forehead? Really?

To be fair, I think if we're going to openly tag people for identity purposes we should do it the American way and include everyone. But instead of using dates we could use adjectives, in which case this ladies forehead would just read "OLD". Then stupid or rude people could be just as easily picked out of a crowd.

Think about it.... fat people, short people, obnoxious people, sweet people, rich people, terrorist people......... the possibilities are endless. What's more, depending on the size of ones forehead, multiple words could even be used, like degenerate gambler, closet homosexual, cancer victim... let's face it (no pun intended) this could be big.... real big!

Since tattoos are all the rage right now this could catch on like wildfire and for once my timing would be impeccable. This is very exciting. I would love to hear your take on the idea, a little collaboration is always healthy and of course credit will be given where credit is due, what say you?



Over a glass of wine the other night my sister and I began to reminisce about the area in So. California we grew up in. As we talked we mentally toured a huge stretch of Pacific Coast Highway familiar to both of us.

Starting in Malibu, we traveled south down PCH testing our memories as we recited the names of each city along the coastline. Down through Santa Monica, Venice, Marina Del Ray, Playa Del Ray, El Segundo, and then our neighborhoods of Hermosa-Manhattan & Redondo Beach, and beyond as far as Orange County.

We talked about houses we lived in and streets we lived on as children, apartments we rented as adults, restaurants frequented, schools attended and what ever came to mind along the way.

It's funny, neither of us can remember what we had for breakfast on any given day, but we both seem to have total recall for that coastline as if it were yesterday.

These photos were taken at Hermosa Beach in July of 1955. I was 3 years old, there with my beautiful Mother and two sisters. We lived nearby on 8th Street, just a few blocks from that very spot which we walked to frequently for leisurely play in the sun.

I have vivid memories of coming home from the beach with a bathing suit full of sand and globs of black tar stuck to the bottoms of my feet. A common occurrence caused by deposits in the sand from an oil refinery in near by El Segundo. I wonder if that still happens today.
A few years later my parents built the house in this photo. Coincidentally on 8th Street too, but in Redondo Beach, not Hermosa. For our little family these were the best of times and the worst of times. I can remember when the back yard was being excavated to accommodate a swimming pool. For some reason my Mother let me play in that gigantic dirt hole where horny toads and potato bugs roamed free, to me they were fascinating.

Many years later, around 1992 I found myself near 8th Street in Redondo, so drove by to see if the house was still there. It certainly was, and with plenty of upgrades, but not so many that I didn't recognize the neighborhood. I stopped and took the next photo for comparison. Wow, someone has done a masterful job with the aesthetics. It's such a shame that during those years my Father became a philandering flake, bringing our family nucleus to it's knees and changing our lives forever. To try and imagine how differently life may have turned out for us boggles the mind, but of course, it is what it is.

My Sister and I have decided to plan a real trip to the area some time in the near future. Maybe make some new memories to associate with our long but not forgotten stomping grounds.

Our first stop will be a little further inland, near the race track at Hollywood Park where there is a resturaunt called the Cockatoo Inn. I'm not sure if it's still there, but for decades they had a famous recipe for marinated cracked crab on the menu. That recipe has eluded us for as long as we can remember. If anyone knows it, and is willing to share, we would do almost anything to find it again. Anyone?



Been blogging long? I have not, unless a little over two years in the blogsphere is considered a long haul. I started at the suggestion of my very creative Niece who started hers on the heels of giving birth to twins. She had much to share with world and still does. Since I'd never done anything so daring as carry and deliver two babies, my first instinct was to nix the idea. Our telephone conversation went like this:

Me: "What am I up to today? Not much, we finished painting all the decks, and watching them dry is about all I have planned at the moment, what about you?"
Nicole: "Watching paint dry can't be much fun. You should start a blog, you like to write"
Me: "Me, blog? (looking down at the PBJ I was eating at the time) what on earth would I blog about, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?"

Soon after I started a blog about sandwiches, not necessarily my passion, but with a little time on my hands, dipping my toe into the world of web based marketing could prove to be a constructive learning experience.

Before long my world became riddled with sandwiches, and I found myself more interested in them than in the marketing aspects of blogging. Then one day I realized I hadn't done much in the way of actually growing membership, optimizing search engines, link building, page ranking, anchored texting and all that jazz.

Everything I read on increasing readership said I should read and follow other peoples blogs, show interest in what they're saying, start a dialogue, leave relevant comments, which will drive them to my blog for same. This made sense to me, and still does, but doesn't make it any less time consuming.

Recently I've noticed a number of comments on my posts that don't make sense. For example, I posed a question to a fellow blogger in my comment to him, but his reply had nothing to do with what I asked. This happens frequently, so my assumption is these folks are using comment software. Am I way off base here? You can tell me, I won't be insulted.

Is it naive of me to expect comments to be written in the blog authors own hand? It's difficult not to be cynical considering the sophisticated tools available. I'm no expert, but I know when someone has really read a post or a comment. Since I have no interest in communicating with a machine, I think a few changes are in order, like focusing on quality over quantity. Call me crazy, you wouldn't be the first. What tricks have you learned about growing your blog? This inquiring mind needs to know.



Buried deep within the mind are departments, compartments and emotions that should be in check. In no particular order, here are twelve:

CONSCIENCE: Probably located near the front portion of the brain and functioning as a guide or compass, hence the adage "Let your conscience be your guide". I don't cheat or tell too many lies, don't kick my dogs or prey on the elderly, so my conscience is relatively clear. But I often wonder, do other areas of the brain some how benefit from a clear conscience?

EGO: Over time my ego has been all over the map, running the gamut of complete inflation to utter destruction. Currently, it seems to be buried in rubble and in need of restoration. Interestingly, some of the most crystal clear moments and lasting impressions in my life have evolved from having it checked. A profound experience and difficult to forget, one simple check of the ego has the power to shape who you are and how you approach the world.
THE SUBCONSCIOUS: This elusive part of the brain can seem impossible to tap, it's location difficult to pinpoint. Is it spread evenly over every part of the brain, or tucked away in some mysterious crevasse of gray matter? It is purported to be where the real power over self lies. But unless one makes a study of it, it's real potential can never be realized. Think of the possibilities life would hold if children learned to harness their open and unadulterated subconscious minds. With so little emphasis placed on it, only a chosen few will ever really master it.

FEAR & LOATHING: Familiar territory for me. Having done more loathing than fearing, I can vouch that with loathing, things are rarely ever as bad as you fear they're going to be. The irony is that while your in loathing, the part of your brain holding this simple fact is rendered useless by loathing itself. It's partner, fear can be a life saver, a defense mechanism against people without conscience or oncoming trains. At the same time, fear can hold you back, but facing it can set you free. Fear is fierce!

COMPASSION: I have an abundance of compassion and for that I am grateful. Truthfully though, compassion was an acquired taste for me. Once the old ego was in check and I got my head out of my .... uhhh...... well ... let's just leave it right there and say I now have plenty of compassion.

PASSION: Yes, well passion is important isn't it, and all the rage. Passion is professed to be the only way in which one can attain life's true gifts. It too can be elusive if you've not had some indoctrination to the idea of realizing your passion. I have scrambled to find my big passion in life, but at this stage of the game, it's possible that I never will. That sucks.

AMBITION: Interesting how these all play off of one another, isn't it? Presently, my ambition is in question. Perspective may have been lost along the way on this, and where one goes to regain it is cloudy terrain. Could it be in some stage of morph? The answer buzzes around me like a fly. If and when it is found again, I shall use it for good and not evil.

JEALOUSY, ENVY, ANGER & GUILT: I loath jealousy and anger. To my thinking they are both poison and should be completely eradicated from the brain. Junk emotions that can in no way serve us, unlike guilt. Guilt can stir us into being better people, and envy is innocent enough. If managed, envy can be a motivator so long as it doesn't turn to jealousy. Socrates said that a life unexamined is a life not worth living. I don't know if I completely agree with that, but putting a little thought to the things that drive us certainly seems worth looking at, can I get a witness?



(Google Earth photo - driveway entrance)

I once had an old stilt house on Judd Street just above downtown Honolulu. It was situated in Nuuanu Valley at the bottom of a driveway so steep you'd have to bend completely at the waist and hike to it's top. On trash day I would put full bags of garbage on the hood of my Toyota and drive them up to the street for collection.

Between the houses were giant mango and fragrant plumaria trees. If the property owner, Mrs. Hayashibara caught you even picking mangoes that had fallen to the ground, she would give you stink-eye and wag her finger at you. The house came with a small patch of grassy yard that had an old fashioned clothes line running it's length. Red Ginger and Gardenia bushes grew along the property line making the air and the sun dried laundry smell sweet all year round.

The wooden staircase leading to the front door made hollow sounding thumps as you climbed them, and when you reached a small porch at the top, you were greeted with gusts of gentle wind that seemed to be waiting there for you to come home.

Inside the house was nothing fancy, with wood paneled walls and old shaggy carpeting reminiscent of the early 60s. But tree house views from jalousie windows that wrapped around the structure made up for it's lack of decor. Standing at the kitchen window, you saw the rooftops of homes on the terrace just below, and off into the distance the industrial side of Honolulu Harbor. I'm not sure I fully appreciated it at the time, but in retrospect the view was pretty spectacular to look at while washing the dishes.

The hilly residential district of Alewa Heights was located just across Judd Street and made for great walking territory. I would take the same route every day and make mental notes of check points along the way.

First the Puukamalii Cemetery where many WWI Vets are buried along side local Japanese from years gone by. Even then it was neglected and deteriorating, but the aura of "manna" still lingered. Several blocks later Natsunoya Tea House, an old home converted to a Japanese tea house almost 80 years ago and still in business today. Then Kamehameha Middle School. When I reached the locked fence surrounding the play yard there it was time to turn around and head back down Skyline Drive toward home.

During those years I worked at Queen's Medical Center on Punchbowl Street. A six mile drive from Judd Street that took up to 45 minutes on weekday mornings. Three miles in the other direction was Tamashiro Market where every conceivable kind of fresh fish could be found every day of the month. I think I ate my weight in salmon, tuna and rice every week.

I loved living in Honolulu every day that I was there, all together about 10 years. But I made a promise to myself the day I decided to move back to California. That in the future when ever I felt the familiar longing for the beauty and distinction of Hawaii, I would consciously remember the reasons why I left.

The isolation, cost of living, cost of leaving (even for a weekend), the lack of housing, business climate, year round heat and even some of the cultural differences that exist there. It's always best to appreciate what you have, when and where you have it, and remember to take your happiness and memories with you where ever you go.



I've decided that the job is far too big for one person to handle alone, so instead of trying to keep up with every deplorable detail surrounding the lives of despicable people in the news, I'll just post a running list here on ACWYS. If nothing else, just watching the list grow should prove to be interesting.

Feel free to add any despicable person or persons you think belong here. Simply leave the persons name, including their game in a comment and I'll see that it's added to the list.

To kick things off, here are a few disgraceful individuals of the day:

MICHAELE SALAHI- fame monger, white house party crasher who was recently kicked off of Celebrity Rehab show due to the fact that she couldn't produce a discernible addiction..... Now, her husband Tareq has threatened to sue if they don't take her back. What a piece of work.

ASHLEY MADISON- one of the largest adult dating services online focused on people who are currently in a relationship or married and looking to cheat. Ashley Madison guarantees you will have an affair or your money back.

TIGER WOODS - he has a new girlfriend who happens to be his neighbor.... no big deal right? Problem? he's known her for 15 years and she's 22. Twenty two minus fifteen equals SEVEN!!

DOV CHARNEY - CEO of American Apparel being sued by his employee (who at the time was 18) for sexual harassment. She claims she was held captive for hours and forced to perform fellatio on him numerous times and threatened with unemployment if she didn't comply.

S.C. JOHNSON III - billionaire member of SC Johnson household products Co. is charged with repeated sexual assault of a child now 15 who claims the assault went on for "several years". If convicted, Johnson is looking at up to 40 years in prison.. thank you THINGY for adding this.

Looking forward to your two cents! Keri



It was 1984 when I started walking with some regularity (yes, I'm aware that many of you were not even born yet) ...... At the time I lived in Los Feliz California which is kind of an extension of the Hollywood Hills.

If you've ever been there, you know how incredibly steep some of those hills are, which would explain why my calves now look like that of a Romanian shot putter instead of a shapely American female, but I digress.

Walking the hills became a bit of an obsession for me in the 80s, and continued when I moved from Los Feliz to the South Bay, a little closer to the ocean. Not as hilly, but certainly rough enough to keep me on my toes as it were.

Some time later I moved to Nevada and found a great little baseball park with a walking trail where I managed to keep it up in spite of extreme conditions like heat, then cold, then heat, then cold again.

Don't get the wrong impression, there have been months and even complete years that have passed when I didn't exercise at all. But eventually no matter my location, I get back into the swing of things and find myself a patch that offers a decent work out. What a trouper!

Today I live in the East and fortunately have several terrific options for walking places which I use several times a week. Even better, there's ample room here for my dogs to come along and go "off leash" for the most part. Awesome!

That is until last year when I came home from walking and looked into the mirror. I was COVERED with a nasty, itchy rash virtually all over my body. It was early spring, so I attributed the rash to unfamiliar foliage and perhaps an allergic reaction. Had I brushed up against some strange and unfamiliar weed or ivy?

Ever since that day, no matter where I walk or what I'm careful not to touch, I arrive home completely broken out with a terrible, itchy, red, ugly rash. It starts to dissipate the moment I stop moving and is usually gone within a couple of hours, but that doesn't make it any less miserable while it's crawling all over my skin.

It happens when I work in the garden, or just putter around the house too. Basically, anytime I perspire. It seems to be right under the surface of my skin and ready to rear it's ugly head the minute my body temperature rises. Even in the middle of the night if I have too many covers over my body and get too warm.

Google prompted me to go to the doctor where I was recently diagnosed with "Heat Urticuria" or in layman's terms, I'm allergic to perspiration! Can you believe that? You've heard people try to claim that they're allergic to exercise, right? Who knew such an allergy really exists?

So now I'm on a mission to find the right cocktail of antihistamine and allergy pills to take before I go walking. So far I've only managed to get stoned and want to go to sleep after taking those, so I'm a tiny bit frustrated with the whole bit. I'm thinking it's time to do something RASH!



Once considered by many to be the most beautiful woman in the world and The Queen of Hollywood, Elizabeth Taylor died of congestive heart failure at age 79.

The man she married twice, Richard Burton found her beauty so rare that he loved to lavish her with the finest jewels in the world, including the rarest of them all, the Hope Diamond. Of course anyone who knows vintage Hollywood knows what a fine actress she was throughout her life, and in later years an advocate for AIDS awareness. Most recently however I was stricken by one thing about Liz.. At one time, she and Michael Jackson were very close friends, and as far as I know, she never spoke publicly about his death. Maybe I missed it, or maybe she'd been too ill to address it, but I found that to be very curious indeed. Did you ever hear Liz speak to Michael's death?

May you rest in peace beautiful Liz ...



Straight from the one of a kind mind of Mr. Albert Einstein came this food for thought. Imagine who our children would become if parents taught them these ideas.

FOLLOW YOUR CURIOSITY! “I have no special talent. I am only passionately curious."

Kids are usually curious about everything, so take them everywhere (within reason) show them everything, let them touch stuff, and taste stuff and keep their minds stimulated. The pursuit of curiosity is the secret to success.

PERSEVERANCE IS PRICELESS! “It’s not that I’m so smart; it’s just that I stay with problems longer.”
If your kids see you work through problems and come to an intended outcome, they'll be willing to stick to what they start too. They'll grow up knowing how good it feels to finish any race they start.

FOCUS ON THE PRESENT! “Any man who can drive safely while kissing a pretty girl is simply not giving the kiss the attention it deserves.”

Tell your kids that they can do anything, but not everything. They'll learn to be present where they are; give their all to whatever they are currently doing. Focused energy is power, and it’s the difference between success and failure.

THE IMAGINATION IS POWERFUL! “Imagination is everything. It is the preview of life’s coming attractions, and more important than knowledge. It is the true sign of intelligence.

Kids are masters at exercising their “imagination muscles”. Never let something as powerful as imagination lie dormant.

MAKE MISTAKES! “A person who never made a mistake never tried anything new.”

Don't make your kids feel bad about making mistakes. A mistake is not a failure. If utilized properly, mistakes will make them better, smarter and faster. Teach them the power of making mistakes.

LIVE IN THE MOMENT “I never think of the future – it comes soon enough.”

The only way to properly address the future is to be as present as possible “in the present.” It's the only time that matters, it's the only time there is. Dedicate all your parenting efforts to RIGHT NOW!

CREATE VALUE “Strive not to be a success, but rather to be of value.”

Help your kids discover the talents and gifts they possess, and learn how to offer those talents and gifts in a way that most benefits others. Labor to be valuable and success will chase you down.

DON'T EXPECT DIFFERENT RESULTS! “Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”

In order for your life to change, you must change, to the degree that you change your actions and your thinking is to the degree that your life will change.

KNOWLEDGE COMES FROM EXPERIENCE! “Information is not knowledge. The only source of knowledge is experience.”

You must experience a task first hand to “know it.” What’s the lesson? Get experience! Don’t spend time hiding behind speculation. Go out there and do it, and you will have gained priceless knowledge.



I've been reluctant to write about the subject of "captchas" or word verification settings used more frequently than not by bloggers accross the internet. I would SO hate to alienate the wonderful, creative people who find them necessary, but feel the time has come to address the issue.

Let me first say that I've only been blogging a short time, a little over a year, so perhaps I lack a clear understanding of their use.

From what I've read, word verification is necessary to prevent auto-commenting, or spammed comments on your blog. The idea being that a machine is unable to replicate the captcha word, so to prove an actual human being is leaving a comment, one must use one's fingers to type in the random word. Right so far?

For "Blogger" bloggers, there's an additional security setting called "comment moderation" which allows blog authors to review comments before they're published in the comment section of the blog. Double whammy for spammers, right?

The problem is that the extra step of having to verify the captcha word when leaving other people comments is frankly a huge pain in the ass and completely unnecessary, especially if you're using comment moderation too.

Word verification and comment moderation features on both my blogs are set in the OFF position and always have been. To date I've never recieved a spammed or automated comment. If anyone reading this has more information on the issue, I'd love to hear about it. You can leave a comment and not have to verify a word to do so.

On the other hand, if you have your word verification setting in the ON position for no particular reason, PLEASE TURN IT OFF. In the long run, you'll be saving readers of your blog boat-loads of time.. ... ...



You can put a fork in me because I'm DONE! Don't bother firing me because I QUIT! I'm finished. Over it, officially tuned OUT forever and ever AMEN to "The Celebrity Apprentice"!

By the end of Last night's second hour, anyone who gave a spit would have found me red faced and for all practical purposes, stomping my feet, yelling profanities at the TV set. There's something inherently wrong with that!

In my own defense, I tuned into "The Apprentice" to see a somewhat entertaining, intelligent match of wit, business acumen and life experience. Not at bitter bitch-fest where women pitted against each other act like hateful, ugly, vindictive, backbiters. Or in today's vernacular, "Real HOUSEWIVES".

I am acutely aware of being odd man out on this. Even Doctor Phil now has his own band of housewives bitches, so I shouldn't be surprised.

It's just that these people bring out the very worst in each other AND IN ME, so I'm choosing to step out of the "Celebrity Apprentice" loop in search of kinder, gentler television like "Secret Millionaire"... where audience manipulation is on the side of good and not evil. I can get evil anywhere.



I lived in Japan for a short time, and in Hawaii for many years. During that time I grew to know and love Japanese customs, food and of course many of the Japanese people.

The tragedy that struck their tiny island today is I'm sure more than any of us on dry land can comprehend. So in my clumsy way I want send my regards and say:

"Kami ga hitsuyō to no o jikan de, anata o shukufuku. Watashi-tachi wa, Nippon no yūjin-tachi no tame ni inotte imasu."
God Speed!



OHHHH Yikes!!!

Dear Al Pacino,

When I look into your smoldering, young eyes I see that sexy, intensely masculine smooth criminal, Michael Corleone from "The Godfather". More importantly, I see my own youth!!!

I shall never forget the night I walked out of the Kuhio Street movie theatre in Honolulu. It was 1971 and I had just seen "The Godfather" for the first time. Mesmerized, I walked up the rain slicked street several blocks to where I worked as a waitress.

This amazing movie, that haunting score and watching Pacino for the very first time had me walking on a cloud. I half expected to find him sitting at The Oyster Bar Lounge when I arrived to work my shift that night.

Since then, I've seen The Godfather/Godfather Part II more than 80 times. I'm thinking this makes me an official die-hard, and as such, I refuse to acknowledge Godfather Part III. In my opinion, it just didn't live up to One and Two. But I digress....

Al Pacino earned a special place in my heart that night in 1971, and he has lived there ever since. So imagine the SHOCK and FEAR that blazed through my body when I saw his face on Men Who Look Like Old Lesbians, the blog.

Shocked to see his photo appear on this particular site, and in fear of the reality that I could dig out 2 photos of myself, one from 71, one from now, and let the world react to how time has ravaged my head shot.

Of course I would never subject myself to this kind of humiliation, but in Pacino's case, having the world poke fun at how you're aging comes with the territory, after all, "this is the business he's chosen".



I caught an old interview the other day between Dick Cavett and the iconic Janis Joplin. You may be too young to know who Dick Cavett is, but if you happen to be a fan of the blues and/or rock and roll, you probably know of Janis.

Raw and gritty, the late Joplin belted out her blues as if they came straight from her toes right up to the back of her throat. Close your eyes and you’d swear you were listening to a descendant of Bessie Smiths or some other African American blues singer. Janis was a white girl from Texas who thought she wanted to be a folk singer. That is until she realized her true calling was belting the blues, and she could whale! The interview was part of an Ovation Channel documentary entitled “Janis”, which was wrapped around some of the most incredible behind-the-scenes footage of the singer I’ve ever seen. They included glimpses of her in the recording studio and at various concert performances, including Woodstock in 1969.

Anyway, at one particular point, the interview went sort of like this: Cavett asked Janis about a song she'd written referencing her love life, she answered: “You know the story of the carrot and the mule, don’t you? That’s what my love life is like.” Dick looked puzzled and asked: “You mean when a carrot on a string is just out of a mules reach, forcing it to keep moving? Are you saying you’re the carrot and men are mules?” (see the interview on YouTube)

Without hesitating, Janis explained: “No man, in my case it's like women are mules, and men are carrots because men are always holding up something more than they’re prepared to give.”

To me, this statement spoke volumes about Janis and her experience with the opposite sex. Later in the piece, it became obvious that like so many of us, Janis paid her dues vis-à-vis the old relationship ringer too. She was an intelligent and talented woman, but men always seemed to get the better of her, leaving her life-long quest for true love unfulfilled. She was once quoted as saying: "On stage, I make love to 25,000 different people, then I go home alone."

Janis died at age 27 of a heroin overdose in 1970. She was in Los Angeles taping her final album, "Pearl" in October of that year. It is said that only one song for the album was left unfinished. It was to be called "Buried Alive in the Blues." Rest in Peace Janis.



Eating birthday cake last Friday was not a terrific idea, but a festive mood, great dinner and two birthday drinks weakened my resolve, so I gave in to a generous piece of carrot cake, my favorite. Two hours later, as I drifted off to sleep my body began a punishing retribution which persisted through the night and into this morning.

Sleep deprived, I got out of bed around 8:00 and slid into the easy chair. Coffee cup in one hand and TV remote in the other, I began to sip, and then flip through each channel in search of nothing in particular. I caught the tail end of “The Soup”, a program that highlights absurd moments seen on other television shows, and then a program called “Kourtney & Kim Take New York” came on.

For reasons unknown, I stayed on the channel and within seconds was stunned into a reality stupor! Kourtney and Kim are the sisters Kardashian, beautiful, rich and apparently very, very horny.

In the opening scene, cameras follow K & K as they walk down a bustling New York street. Kourtney spies a street vendor and says “Oh look, nuts, let’s stop and buy some”. They approach the vendor, “Can we please buy some nuts; we love them hot, especially in our mouths”. “Oh they’re so nice and hot”! They continue down the street calling out to passing strangers, “Anybody like hot nuts, we love them, especially in our mouths” In the scenes that followed:

*Kim just out of bed with her boyfriend listens to her sister having sex in the adjoining room.

* The sisters play suggestively with breakfast sausage and shortly after that, a banana.

* Kourtney’s boyfriend hollers to a passing police officer, “Hey, if I go down on my girlfriend right here on the street, will I be arrested?” The couple opts for a fitness center instead of the street and go there to have sex.

*The couple ducks into a public restroom and has sex again.

*The foursome goes bowling and rule that if boys win, they go down on the girls, and if girls win, they go down on the boys.

Mind you, this was within THE FIRST 10 MINUTES of the program. What in the hell is going on here, did I stumble onto a porn channel?

Is this slutty, smutty, inane, pathetic and stupid show for real? Do people really sit in their living rooms and deliberately watch this tripe more than once? Am I so completely out of touch with popular culture that I’m missing the entertainment value here?

I understand the concept that sex sells, but unless you’re selling it within the margins of good taste, it’s just trash! Can I get a witness?