Peekskill Slideshow 1

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No Matter the Facts of Real Life Escape From Alcatraz - Clint Eastwood Does just that in 1979 Film

Before Andy Dufresne endured the injustice of Shawshank Prison and turned the tides on his duplicitous, righteous jailers, Clint Eastwood engineered his own Escape from Alcatraz in 1979.

Based on the true story of career criminal Frank Morris and his 1962 escape from Alcatraz, the action generally plods along in comparison to the 1994 nominee for Best Picture. It also doesn't contain the all encompassing struggle to survive in the face of criminally violent guards, roving jailhouse rapists and an incarceration that systematically hinged on dehumanization. But it does have Clint.

Pitted against Warden Johnston, played by Patrick McGoohan, Eastwood and his fellow inmates weather a more methodically psychological megalomania from their chief overseer. 

Regardless, the film does manage to keep pace by the sheer and full range of Eastwood's signature expressions of contempt. Then piggybacking on the petty and arbitrary acts of control against his prison compatriots, Clint matches the scowls with determined resolve.

Unlike Dirty Harry or a high plains drifter, Clint doesn't push it and makes sure all his protestations directed at the warden and prison guards are measured. For example, after the prison sage and resident artist cuts his own fingers off after permanent loss of painting privileges, Clint keeps his head, while leaving the guards no room to retaliate. “Put that in your report," he instructs the negligent guard after gathering up the severed fingers.

He also carefully cultivates his friends in only the frank and fearless Clint Eastwood way. Seeking alliance with the leader among the black inmates, Eastwood defers at first to sit among “English” and his brethren - until the desired opening comes. "You're either too afraid to sit or you hate niggers," he taunts Clint.

With the perfect dose of reluctance, Clint reengages. “I guess I just hate niggers,” he deadpans without reservation. The key alliance solidified, Clint again shows he can carry it just as easily with a quip as with a gun.

Nonetheless, the four escapees slowly and smartly accumulate the tools they need to tunnel, traverse and float their way off Alcatraz. Faced with one final injustice perpetrated by  the warden, Eastwood doesn't take the bait. Instead, realizing it's now or never, he prepares to leave a calling card to signify the victory to come over the unrepentant Warden.

Not quite as in your face as the warden's fate in Shawshank but just as powerful. The outcome in real life is also much less definitive. No trace was ever found of the escapees - except the man made rafts of raincoats found on nearby Angel Island and some personal effects. Authorities at the time believed the prisoners would have drowned before leaving them behind, because these were all the belongings they had.

“Or that's just what they want you to think," one of the law enforcement officers on film taunts Warden Johnston. Seemingly not giving the agent his due, the warden resigns himself to the film's truth in the conveniently placed artifact that only Clint could have left behind.

Regardless of how fiction intersects with the historical facts and final fate of Frank Morris, which we may never know, Clint Eastwood once again comes out on top - just the way we like it.

Gravity and George Clooney Brings You Back Down to Earth

Gravity opens by setting us at ease as George Clooney nonchalantly traverses the perils of space like everything else he does in the movies. A drama set precariously above Earth in our always suspect shuttle, is there anything new in knowing that Clooney will have it covered in the end?  Disappearing 36 minutes into the film, the common place clearly doesn’t apply – that is unless it does. 

Read more : https://vocal.media/futurism/george-clooney-brings-us-and-science-fiction-down-to-earth-in-gravity?via=rich

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Consider This when Judging a Basketball Brawl

Can't Judge Basketball Fights

by Hockey Fights

Often after an all-out basketball brawl, sports commentators and radio call in listeners usually condemn the mayhem in a disgust that is universal. On the other hand, baseball fights elicit pride and have been later cited as the moment a team came together in a championship season. (see 2004 Red Sox-Yankees/Varitek-ARod…We don’t throw at .260 hitters). The next thing that comes is the accusation that critics are viewing the incidents through the prism of race – thus the difference reactions.  So I’m going to attempt to explain.

I think the basketball fight does look scarier. It's possible that my perception is skewed by race, and I’m probably not alone on either count. But there are factors to consider when interpreting the biased reaction.

One is the typical that these NBA guys are all street thugs who would be doing this on a daily basis if basketball was not a profession. Those people can suck it.

For others, you just can’t get around the fact that we are all human, and gut level emotion is hard to judge – especially if you try to bring rationality to an irrational emotion.

That said, I still think there are explanations that separate out the racial part. So let’s compare across the spectrum of professional sports.

First you can’t compare hockey and football to make the case against basketball. Aside from the fact that hockey fights are institutional and long accepted, the fisticuffs are inherently contained and follow a standard script.

How significant a fight can you have on a surface of ice?  Either way, the gloves go off - and sooner or later - one guy is on the ice, and that’s it. The referees wrestle them away from each other, and everyone settles back in.

Of course, the third man in rule has thoroughly contained the worst offenses of the past. 

Football also has constraints. How much of fight can you really have wearing all that equipment? Even so, I have never seen an all-out football brawl, which is striking.

Could it be that the game already is so violent that a fight just seems too much to bear? Could it have something to do with the short playing career and lack of guaranteed contracts? I’m sure it’s never far from their minds.

So the real comparison is with baseball.  Baseball fights usually occur with one player chasing down another. Batter charges the mound, throws a punch and both end up on the ground. 45 players then converge and tends to clutter in a pile on the ground.

Very predictable, which NBA fights seem not to be.  There’s usually no mad dash involved in basketball. Both players are tangled up already, and there’s less momentum for them to end up on the ground. As a result, they’re more prevalent to go toe to toe, and have the entanglement turn into a shoving fest that has a mind of its own.

At the same time, fewer players involved seems to allow the fallen to actually get up and keep the fight in motion. However, baseball fights still do have the possibility of traveling, but a significant distinction does exist that causes separation.

I’ll liken it to the manner in which movies escalate the drama by putting the plot on the clock. The bad guys have just taken the huge diamond that Indian Jones would love for the museum, and we’re certainly responsive to the chase. But the race to secure the antidote he just swallowed adds the element of time to the excitement.

In basketball’s case, a lack containment is what hangs over the main drama. In other words, there’s no partition to separate the melee from the fans. So as the focal point moves chaotically the uncertainty suddenly involves real people, and sitting at home, it’s not hard to see yourself in those seats.  

Consider that the next time you want to jump to the standard conclusions without any introspection.

Class of 1980 Trip to Boston - 1975

The Ladykillers will Bring you Back to God

Back to God

The Ladykillers, by the Coen Brothers, somehow has been overlooked. So if you can at this late date, give Tom Hanks a gander as he heads a quartet of unlikely compatriots who join to rob a floating casino.

As "Professor" Goldthwaite Higginson Dorr – studier of dead languages – Hanks provides both the brains and the comedy backbone. But first we’re introduced to the sleepy southern town. Complete with its complacent sheriff, whose campaign slogan is “reelect Sheriff Wyner because he’s too old to work,” the town is steeped in its God fearing ways and aims to keep it simple.  

Marva Munson serves as our ambassador and the focal point for the aforementioned crime wave. An unrepentant lover of the lord and the memory of her long passed husband, Marva is all business when it comes to right and wrong.

“You know they call it hippity hop music but it don’t make me want to go hippity hop,” she lectures Sheriff Wyner.

Even so, all is good as she contently subsists with her faithful cat “Pickles” and contemplates rejoining her husband in the hereafter, while his judgmental stare guides from the portrait above her mantle. That’s until the professor’s knock on the door casts a shadow seemingly sent by God himself.

Pickles, a step ahead of the ominousness, takes flight for the oak outside and Marva is not a loss for words. “Go fetch Pickles,” she demands and holds the high ground.

The professor is up to the task. “I do apologize but won’t the feline eventually tire of his lonely perch, and pining for his master’s affection, return of his own initiative,” Hanks masterfully lays the groundwork for his dialogue.

Nonetheless, Hanks is forced to ascend and begin his fall from grace as the ancient tree is unable to support him or the plot he’s about to unfold. Still, he secures Marva’s available room and rehearsal space for his Renaissance era “musicians” in her basement.  

Connected to the bank housing the casino winnings, the plan is afoot. Thus, we meet the players.

Gawain MacSam (Marlon Wayans) is the inside man. A Hip-hop tongued janitor, his vernacular brings the endeavor back to street level in laugh out loud abundance. “What up my nigga,” Wayans’ pride and disdain take precedence the first time he meets the casino boss

J.K. Simmons as Garth Pancake serves as the demolitions’ expert. Clad in safari shorts, high socks and boots, his diligent commitment to detail and easy approach to obstacles mostly amounts to incompetence. In demonstrating the C4, he blows off his finger and shakes it off. “I don’t know what all the fuss is about,” he demurs.

Lump, on the other hand, as the operation’s muscle, lacks the mental stability to muster the explosive miscue or much of the English language. “Blood, Blood, Blood,” he panics at the severed digit.

The General, a tunneler in the French Indochina War, also dishes on providing much dialogue, and in this case, slaps the monstrosity into submission.    

Fortunately for the ensemble, the professor is able to placate Marva upon the mysterious explosion. "I will not have you missin your recital. I shall call the gas company or the water company –  whatever subterranean utility is implicated in this contretemps,” he sees her off. 

Of course, more things must go askew. Gawain’s ghetto ways are the first to give way. “Come over here and blow on these dice,” he tells a female customer, “You know, I’m a seven on the roll but a ten the hard way.”

His job lost, the professor then laments Pancake enlisting his beloved Mountain Girl to extract a large piece of Ignatius impeding their tunneling efforts. “I thought it was understood that when it came to our enterprise, mum was the word.”

Gawain is far less precise as the revelation is made at their conferencing location. “You brought yo bitch to the waffle hut,” he wails repeatedly until Pancake’s retaliation has Gawain pulling his piece.

But the professor placates again. “Please gentleman, this behavior does you no credit in the eyes of   your colleagues, nor in those of the other patrons of this Waffle Hut,” he gets the group to accept the endeavor's enlargement. 

Gawain getting his job back, the job goes off perfectly until the explosive device to reseal the tunnel  fails. “It is the essence of this plan that the money should simply vanish without a trace to not only   make our caper intellectually satisfying but is exigent as a matter of fact,” Hanks doctors the dilemma for Pancake.          

As such, Pancake goes gung ho into the tunnel and narrowly escapes death, while Gawain’s street smart explains away the mysterious noise at the casino end.  “You fart,” he redirects the happily obese safe attendee. 

But the affront to God is missed by our players. Specifically, the fatal presumption that they could outsmart their destinies.  “Let us go back to God,” the opening hymm foretells and points the finger of doom.

NYC - 42nd - 55th

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Class of 80 - Trip to Boston

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Cannes Festival Nominee Explores the Artistic Need to Create in Color Thief

Artists don’t just starve because the portfolio of their passions lacks buyers or livable compensation. Creation requires resources, and the drive to create for artist can often trump the necessities and security one needs to survive. Whether it's Michelangelo hanging from a ceiling, the Borglum family bounding themselves to Mt. Rushmore or even Tom Cruise swinging from the Burj Khalifa skyscraper in Dubai, the question is obvious. How far will an artist go to bring body and soul to their vision?

With the short film Color Thief, New York City’s Violeta Barca-Fontana is going the distance in her attempt at an answer.

While the hurdles faced in her film are significantly less dramatic, the NYC setting and circumstances brings a more relatable experience to both artists and everyday people pursuing their dreams. And the fact that the spec was sparked by an actual event provides verification.

According to a story right out of New York City, an artist finds himself one color short of what he needs to complete his work and breaks into a store to quench his creativity. “That’s what got me thinking. It’s such a powerful force – the need to create and to get something done. You are just compelled to go out and do whatever you need to do,” says Barca-Fontana.

In that, 84 year old “Lily” first came to life for Barca-Fontana. One color short, she also decides to break the law in Color Thief to complete what will probably be the last, great piece of her life.

Putting aside the obvious expediency found in the overall concept, Ms. Barca-Fontana also explores the life choices artists must make, and what's left behind in the process - which is why she aged her character. "She reflects on her past and has no trouble making peace with a life where art was put first," says Barca-Fontana.

At the same time, juxtaposing the gender of the real life artist intensified the depth of Barca-Fontana's exploration. "A woman adds dimension because the choices made in her youth had to more profound in an era where women were expected to be home," she says.

In that, the real life crossover intersects this time with Barca-Fontana's life. "My grandmother was a painter," says the New York City filmmaker, "but she was fortunate in that my grandfather was just crazy enough to let her pursue her passions."

So while a direct comparison does not apply, a familiarity will definitely be evident to her family. "They will definitely recognize the tone I take," she says.

But male or female, the artists that she's discussed the concept with can feel the connection and have given her the nod. Nonetheless, it's not only artists that will be able to relate. "Every human being has a passion," she says succinctly.

Of course, art always means business, and this time she's not handing off those duties. "In addition to writing and directing, I'm producing the film too. So that means setting up meetings, getting funding and all the things that go with it," she says.

Doing what needs to be done but it still comes back to being an artist and that means your mind must be malleable and attuned. "It's almost like somebody is whispering in your ear that you should do this film or project," she says.

A sentiment that she found among a number of artists and one's success may actually hinge on being open to it. "I believe you have to be willing to listen," she says, "even if it sounds a little crazy."

Any Rand's Atlas Shrugged - Like any Blind Ideology - Based on Irrationality

Ayn Rand believes government is inefficient. She wrote book called Atlas Shrugged to let us know. Of course, if you feel the need to confirm the sentiment, just take a trip to the DMV. As horrid as that might be, it would save you the bother of suffering through 1,200 pages in pursuit of a parallel state of utopia that is as unrealistic as the one she’s against. I offer here an explanation of the irrationality that brought her to us.

I had long been intrigued by the cover of this book and the unusual name that went with it. As blindsided market economics grew in popularity, the unusual name really began to resonate and my curiosity peaked.

I picked up her first novel, “We, the Living.” Loosely based on her escape from the newly formed Soviet Union, I was doubly hooked. Meaning, I’ve always had a fascination for Russian History – being well versed in the atrocity that was the Bolshevik State.

Less attuned to the sheer violence, this was a study in how the pursuit of the communist ideal led the country into crippling backwardness. Incrementally detailing the descent, the tragic ending of the main character served as a victory to the human spirit nonetheless.

And if I don’t say, one of the most amazing finishes I’ve ever read. Atlas Shrugged was clearly in my future.

In real life, Ayn Rand’s escape was far less dramatic, but the experience obviously drove her life’s work. Unfortunately, it influenced her to the point of irrationality. I know the feeling.

Not nearly of the magnitude of Rand’s experience, an incident in my life can sometimes suspend the equal consideration that all should be addressed with. Prejudice. I was wronged by a group – an occupation – and I find myself lumping the entire field to the individual who crossed me. Nonetheless, I am aware of this and keep it in check but it is valuable to see how people succumb to this emotion.

Hello Ayn Rand.

The Soviet Union was its brother’s keeper. On an individual basis, the results – at best – are mixed. Playing them out across an entire society is looking for trouble. The catastrophic incidences are too numerous to list.

Thus ensconced in the opposite extreme, Rand’s irrationality remained nowhere near in check but that doesn’t mean “objectivism” doesn’t contain rational purpose. “Great men” took risks and made super human efforts to cross the oceans, build the railroads and link the world together by transatlantic and coaxial cables. And she’s correct in saying that societies often unfairly criticize the virtue of those efforts – especially in consideration of the riches it brings them.

Dagny Taggert and Hank Rearden are the primary victims of the stagnant economic ideology that over took the world. The two characters and those of their literary ilk want to produce and earn based solely on their ability to meet demand. I say, God Bless ‘em

Unfortunately, this does not sound like the present day “destroyers” who brought down the world economy. In practice, too many seek unfair advantage over competitors, and often in at the expense of the public, through the purchase of politicians.

Or they’ll just break the law. HSBC is under investigation for laundering drug money for Mexican cartels and they’re not the first. The government will settle and the fine will be insignificant in comparison to the profits.

Why? Because the banks are armed with lawyers that will drag out the process and make the government look bad. I doubt Hank Rearden would approve.

Rand then turns to an industrial class that has gone on strike. They feel the world does not appreciate enough the wealth and opportunity provided through the ages. But can the same be said of the Apple subsidiary Foxconn. It was forced to place netting around the housing of its semi-enslaved Chinese workers to cut into the suicide rate bore of horrendous conditions.

In turn, sweatshops and dire working conditions go unreported around the world in compliance with a media that protects the overlords. Right here, a Florida Super Market Chain called Publix, among others, employed Human Labor Trafficking practices to increase its bottom line.

On the other hand, the unfettered system of capitalism that companies enjoy outside American borders does lead to the general uplift of those host societies, as Alan Greenspan would tell you.

This sounds awfully like the speak of other Utopian visions. But, at the same time, adding up the pluses and minuses may just justify the pain. Given the unfortunate state of the human condition, across the landscape of history and its horror, all possibly go under the heading of the price of doing business.

Why then can she not extend a similar analogy to the operation of government and the check against excess?

Did I mention irrationality, which I estimate is the reason Atlas succumbed nonviolently to the said dystopia. In this, she’s warning of the most likely manner in which our democratic system would fall to communism. The Bush tax cuts in serious consideration of repeal, we can only resign to our sealed fate.

Please!!!

Aside from the inefficiency and waste that goes with government programs, increasing taxes helps the government dole out political power – thus amounting to poor use of capital and distorting values in the market place. (Of course, I don’t see Exxon/Mobil or the nuclear industry deferring on the Corporate Welfare that Ayn Rand thinks they would.)

Given the human condition across the landscape of history, this amounts to the price of doing business. In case that doesn’t sound familiar, let’s just say, business needs government to save itself from itself and government needs business to save itself from itself.

Despite the straight forward concept, it’s understandable how Ayn Rand’s irrational experience tainted her work. But the Tea Party and all those who think Atlas Shrugged should be viewed as a biblical blue print for all economic consideration – God help us.

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A Liberal Rationalizing the Horror of a Trump Presidency, There might be some Positives

The Sadness of a Trump Presidency

might not be All bad

As the possibility of Donald Trump becoming president has become more of a reality, horror best describes my fears. That said, one must prepare for the worst, and in attempting to placate myself, I’ve found areas where we might actually like having his name plastered on the Washington Monument.

But if it bleeds it leads. Donald Trump on the world stage would terrify me.  Speaking loudly and wielding a big stick, see George W. Bush for details, but his missteps could be catastrophic.

I can only imagine him trying to angle Vladimir Putin out of the Ukraine like he’s some slum lord from Brooklyn. Itchy nuclear trigger fingers aplenty in the wake of Trump’s abrasive style and we could all be fired.

If you can get past the prospects of a nuclear winter, let me make a circular argument around the xenophobic rhetoric that is so disturbing.

I’ll use the expelled Muslim woman from his recent rally. I don’t have a problem with her exit, because the Secret Service looks for anyone doing something out of the ordinary. So a women standing silently in protest among the revelry probably counts.

The concern is the racist reaction to the people around her. As many have said, Trump’s success reveals the ugly underbelly of our society.

Despicable that he would demagogue his way to the top in that regard, I’m going to hope this isn’t the true Donald Trump. Mark Cuban has my back. “The Donald Trump who’s running for President is not the Donald Trump I know,” he stated flatly on Larry Wilmore’s show

So I’m going to extrapolate Trump’s version of the post primary Republican run back from the edges.  “All that building a wall stuff and banning Muslims from entering the country – I’m voicing your frustrations. I mean, do you really think I could get this country to build a 2000 mile long wall, and then get Mexico to pay for it. I’m good, but I’m not that good. It’s time to try to accept our differences and not give in to fear. We also have to begin discussing pragmatic solutions that don’t take into account the box our politicians are in, and all the special interests they are beholden to.”

Now we’re talkin (or getting delusional).  Could it be possible that just by empathizing, Donald Trump has accrued enough allegiance to the racist element of the Republican base that they would be open to suspending their irrationality in favor of real solutions on immigration.

He might even be able to convince them that giving a bit on the border would throw an entire population up for grabs in future elections – rather than being solidly Democratic.

As for his Middle East musings, his constituency probably can’t be reached.

You can’t have it all, but being on the outside in terms of the economy could be quite intriguing. Of course, among the banking and Wall Street class that always has its way and sends us periodically into chaos, he’s not financially beholden to them. Barack Obama and Hilary Clinton can’t make that claim and sending a few of them off to jail with any malfeasance might keep them all in line.  

Who knows it might set a precedence that extends beyond his term.

Trump is also from New York. A place that science has infiltrated, he knows global climate change is an issue. So while his business inclinations could deter his policy, rationality might trump the politics of stupidity that Republicans count on in this area.

At the same time, setting a sustainable course could be Trump’s version of only Nixon could go to China.  His constituency at stake of being softened, the idea of encasing policy in accordance of a new sustainable economy might now make sense since he’s doing the talking.    

A New York application to second amendment irrationality might also see progress. His urban upbringing, you really think he cares about hunting squirrels in Central Park?  He’s talking irrationality now, but he understands common sense. 

Probably not strong enough to take on NRA either, Trump’s support may lay wait, and with an obstinate constituency willing to listen, you never know.

If this has earned my unfriending, I hope my upcoming vote for Bernie Sanders changes your mind.

Yonkers Slideshow #2

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From MKCCC - Happy Birthday Twink

Dave's Place - Seemingly out of Place - on West 42nd Street and 9th is Definitely Down to Earth

Plattsburgh should try Dave's Place

I went to college in Plattsburgh, New York – the North Country. Every weekend the downtown bars were mobbed with college students drinking one dollar beers and doing what they do. Scattered along side, "townies" tried to pass themselves off as us. It was always an uneasy piece, as it probably is in many places across the country. But if you really wanted to get a taste and put aside this youthful air of undeserved superiority that we haughtily wore among our community hosts – "The Royal" was the place to go. That said, we from our pretentious suburban, urban and middle class perches have all given these places a go. And while we hope our arrogance is forgiven, we are all the better for rising to the level of the down to earth people that are always encountered. I recently found a bar such as this in the unlikeliest place – West 42^nd and 9^th avenue in Manhattan.

Tucked up in next to the Port Authority, it’s called unassumingly enough, "Dave’s Place." In defiance of the space-time continuum surrounding New York City’s worldly galaxy, the dimensional plane that is broken upon crossing the sidewalk's threshold is like wedding a time warp to a parallel universe.

Drawn in, the dinginess is endeared by a bar surface that makes no pretense over its two sole purposes – separate the drinkers from the drinks and giving the beverages a places to rest before they are either consumed or spilled.

Doing the honors, the patrons seem as if a worm whole was the conduit for their arrival or some variable left unknown to the workings of Quantum Physics. Definitely working class, they beamed in from – I don’t know – a General Motors factory in decline, an upstate community that subsists off the prison industrial complex or the loading docks of Baltimore.

Anywhere but the heart of New York City, and the steam let off is that of collective working class exhale that breathes life into the revelry. In turn, the joy is simply contagious, and I couldn’t help raising my $4 Narragansett in hopes of acceptance.

Seamlessly welcomed, what struck me as “parallel” was the diversity of the bar’s make up. They say in the South that poor working class blacks and whites should be aligned economically and politically. But the racial propaganda of the Republican party acts to alienate poor whites from their African-American brethren. Here, the people are not falling for that.

Black, White, Latin – any differences fall in favor of the collective joy and pain. As such, the crowd sort of dances around the ethnic differences and make it part of seeing each other as the same. The humorous banter - a byproduct that is almost as uplifting as the beverages.

Then, there’s the bartenders.  Dressed in leather bikers tops and tight jeans that leave an alluring mid drift gap in between, they also seem adjoined to a place nowhere in proximity to the nearby USS Intrepid. Flirty and playfully condescending to dudes who know they have no shot, these two exceedingly attractive women give off a similar air of being out of their league - only the neighborhood surroundings are the sport in question. 

In other words, they are like the college townie trying to lore a Phi Beta Kappa or Air force Pilot who can rescue her from their backwoods town. Only here, it’s the businessman who might wander in off 8^th Avenue. In all likelihood, it's more that they have the same dignity that their customers possess and are content to stick to the grounded aspirations that enough West Side dwellers fail to achieve.

Either way, it all seems unreal and had me in a state of awe inspiring bewilderment. I just can’t wait to take my buddies from Plattsburgh here – if Dave will have us.

Yonkers Kimball Avenue

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Class of 1980 8th grade trip to Washington

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Mt Kisco Walk Through Today #2

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Single And The City’s Asian Persuasion Singles Event Settles into a Great Night out for All

A few years ago, I was friended by one Amber Guesa on Facebook. She runs a social dating site called SingleAndTheCity [http://www.singleandthecity.com/]. I looked at the pictures on her page and I was quite intrigued. But I never raised enough impetus to actually elevate my aspirations and attend one of her parties. Grounded to yet another boring weekend in Westchester, Amber personally invited me to an event that I could not be persuaded to miss.

An "Asian Persuasion" Singles Mixer –for Asian women and all the men that love them." Oh my, am I attracted to Asian women and being 30 minutes early for the 4:46 out of Chappaqua left nothing to chance.

After arriving at Grand Central, I made my way to 313 West 37th street, being extra cautious to not to get hit by a bus. There I was greeted by Kim Loan who co-hosted the event at Image Powerhouse Studios, [http://imagepowerhouse.com/] a model agency by day and private event space by night. An Asian herself – oh my.

Remarkably, I was not the first one there. On the couch waiting was a Pace University Student originally from Pennsylvania. She looked a little nervous, but I was pretty sure I bore no responsibility for that.

She had never done a singles event, and I offered some simple advice: be honest.

Boy, I must really be some sort of catch.

She laughed and we went onto exchange some of the normal pleasantries. Not really believing in segues, "what's your position on fracking," seemed logically where I should go next – given her home state.

Taken aback, she launched into a healthy laugh. It was obvious she was much more ready to engage. Hey, I know what I'm doing people.

The party started slow – at least from a guy's impatient point of view. Well yeah, that's what we do – especially when women know that the building will actually have to be on fire before we give up on the particular persuasion that got us here in the first place.

It's also safe to assume that the particular persuasion in question had something to do with the over eagerness. Given that 50 men were turned away off the $40 event price, let me try to explain, "Oh my."

Mysterious, intelligent, confident – I don't know, how about artistically symmetrical. I'm making a fool of myself. Asian women make my head spin, and believe it or not, the subject did not come up among the men. Put in the position of such submission, maybe it's just too embarrassing to discuss. Or they're heads were too busy spinning like mine.

Since I did have my objective reporter's hat on, I was able to temper my own usual impatience. Instead, my laid back approach put me in a few interesting and funny conversations with the guys on hand, with things such as musicians, bankers, lawyers and filmmakers.

After all, we do these things to meet "people." Ok, maybe not, but a few more women eventually meandered in and I smoothly got myself into the game. In other words, I spilled a glass of wine on myself.

No matter, Kim quickly came over and took care of me. She got me a napkin and advised that I just un-tuck my shirt into a more casual look. Fashion and models – I know she knows what she's doing.

Interesting, that's how I usually do it. Maybe on this point, I know what I'm doing too. Sorry, no chance.

Shaking off my setback, I still turned to find a party mostly dominated by men. The alphas definitely noticed. But mostly doesn't mean all, and without objectivity, I made the most of a friendly group of women who were quite open to more moderately amusing segues.

And again, I didn't limit myself and got into a few more good conversations among the guys. Nonetheless, the chatter skewed toward disappointment. This put me in the position of becoming the girl at the 7th grade dance who tries to steer all the shy boys to the center of the action.

Now, I'm sure Kim and Amber do a great job of getting everybody mixing. On this night, for instance, to break the so-called "ice", all attendees received half a playing card with the goal of finding the matching half being held by someone of the opposite sex. Women were able to receive make-up touch-ups to look their best and all guests were able to participate in a photo shoot. All while getting our drink on with complimentary wine and beer provided throughout the night. But sometimes the clouds un-align and the mix just doesn't work.

So the good guy that I am, I did just what I said above. Why should I have all the fun? For instance "Nancy" was celebrating a birthday so I persuading a number of the anxious to wish her one, but this turned out to be much ado about nothing.

The girls – not seeing the building bursting into flames from 9th avenue – started making their way in and nicely balanced the room out.

The shy boys also seemed to settle in, and the affair really ended up starting where it began. Pleasantries, conversation, and an easy going time that yes had many cards exchanged and aspirations elevated, but had no one leave at a loss – especially me.

Wait, here's the kicker. When I got home, an email subjected, "Asian Persuasion Credit" was in my box. I opened and since many of the women showed up late, a credit was received for a future singles event. You can't beat that so why not give on of Amber's events a try in the future

There’s nothing Ordinary about 45 Years with Charlotte Rampling

45 Years at the Burns

45 Years sets us at ease as it opens to the bucolic English countryside, and the lilting tone of Charlotte Rampling’s lovely ascent into the golden years of a long, fruitful romance. But the shadow of a past love puts the basking at bay and turns the glacially paced plot into a cascade that will leave you feeling as though you were buried in an avalanche.

All unsuspecting and harmoniously content, optimism still shines through in eyes that definitely show all the time that has passed since her duplicity ripped apart Paul Newman’s soul in The Verdict 33 years ago.  What comes around not on your docket, Kate Mercer finds her husband Geoff (Tom Courtenay) distraught over an opened letter.  “They found her,” he states flatly of the women before her, whose existence was disclosed at the outset of their relationship.

Read more...http://rmentertainment.expertscolumn.com/article/there-s-nothing-ordinary-about-45-years-charlotte-rampling

Charlie Monetti at his son's Wedding June 1991

Horace Greeley vs Carmel Jan 2 2016

Brewster 2 Yorktown 1 Jan 2 2016

Why do I have to Tell the Republican Party the Opportunity Immigration Reform Presents

My Grandfather the Illegal Immigrant

The immigration system is broken.  I got an idea. Let’s fix it.  Excuse me, this is America, we stopped fixing things just after Apollo 17 splashed down in the ocean in 1972.

As is, the number they keep trotting out is 11 million illegals, which is likely wrong because it never changes. Nonetheless, taxes aren’t being paid and resources used, so it benefits us all to find a solution.

Here are the obstacles.

Me and my ilk. We’re human and empathize with people who seek escape from poverty, despair and injustice inside the borders of our vast country.  Our hearts beat for those who undertake this struggle so when we hear from the heartless among us diminish and dehumanize them, we shut down.

The anger evoked just doesn’t seem commensurate with somewhat higher healthcare premiums or elevated teacher to student ratios.  For instance, if the 11 million cute girls from Ireland graced our nightlife as bartenders, last call on this issue would have been issued years ago.

In other words, me and mine can’t help but feel that racism drives the outrage and coming up with a solution becomes secondary to standing up against the small mindedness of too many Americans.

So regardless of what’s good for us, there’s no push from our end.  That leave the Democratic Party to act alone.  Sorry, Democrats in congress won’t solve the problem because there’s no incentive. 

As long as the Republicans have the self-deportation talk of Mitt Romney and the likes of Donald Trump to alienate Latinos, why change the status quo. The Democrats have the Hispanic vote, so if it ain’t broke on Election Day, why fix it.

This gives the Republicans opportunity to take advantage, and they haven’t got a clue. Yes, George W. Bush put forth a moderate plan for amnesty, and the Republican constituency made piñata mush of the initiative.  But proposing and pushing a rational solution is the only way forward for the party.

Doing so will piss of their base to no end, but what are they going to do – vote for Hilary Clinton. On the other hand, a third party mess could emerge for the Republicans. Still, they’re never going to win another presidential election until they start appearing as human to this ever growing voting block. 

So what do the Republicans have to lose?  Eventually, their base will simmer down, a system will be put in place, taxes paid and resources paid for.  They’ll be the heroes, and the Latino vote will for grabs like the rest of us.

You’re welcome, and I’ll take an ambassadorship to Italy when you finally figure this out.