Dear Mom and Dad,
It’s been eight months since I last wrote, so it’s time to say “hi” again and tell you a little about what’s going on. It ain’t getting any better.
Dad, you had a habit of walking by the TV set when I was watching, and, if something struck you as stupid or vulgar, you would say, “Boy, that sure is high-class entertainment.” Well, there is a lot of high-class entertainment down here these days.
It is apparently impossible to make a TV commercial for a new movie or TV series without one of the actors being hit in or landing on his you know whats. Yep, the family jewels, down there where it really, really hurts. I watch a lot of sports on TV, and every game will have at least one commercial where this happens. Occasionally some media pioneer will switch things around a bit and have one actor squeeze or pretend to squeeze another’s privates. Whether accomplished by squeezing, hitting or landing on, there is nothing in the world funnier. Loud laughter on the sound track proves that.
It isn’t only television that is setting high standards. Last Sunday an interview in The New York Times Magazine began with the interviewer saying, “I think … I’ve seen your penis.” Luckily, the celebrity being interviewed was a man. Otherwise the response might have been a little awkward and long-winded. No, Dad, the guy being interviewed wasn’t Henry Kissinger.
Last time around I mentioned the new fancy phones that do all sorts of things – send printed messages, play music and movies, take pictures and on and on. In the wrong hands, they can be tools of the Devil. Kids of all ages apparently take pictures of their private parts and then send them around to others. A couple of weeks ago a congressman got into trouble for doing this, showing once again that being a member of Congress is a job frequently associated with prolonged adolescence. The congressman, of course, denied at first that he sent improper pictures to several women, but his story was even less believable than the fantastic tale I made up about how the front end of your 1954 white Pontiac got all smashed in. Like me, he eventually fessed up. He’s out of a job now.
The congressman’s name is Weiner, but to make things worse he pronounces it like he came from a long line of hot dogs. That led to hundreds of jokes and puns. One TV network distinguished itself by paying for an interview with one of the women who got (close your eyes, Mom) Weiner pictures. ABC claimed it was paying a “licensing fee” for the pictures the woman had and not for the interview. As Grandma Alexander used to say, “I’ve heard ducks underwater before.” (Do you know I must have been nearly 30 before I understood that was her way of saying something was pure BS?)
Maybe you already know this, but I do have big news of my own. (I deliberately buried the lead in keeping with the way journalism is practiced here nowadays.) A bunch of essays I wrote on aging will be published as a book in a few days. It’s called “Did I Really Change My Underwear Every Day?” If you get on a computer and type in “Sunstone Press,” you will see a section that says “Secure Movie & TV Rights.” I can’t imagine anyone making a movie or TV series out of my book, but, on the off chance someone wants to, I hope I’m man enough to demand that my contract prohibits any commercials that involve hitting, squeezing or landing on the family jewels. Enough’s enough.
That’s about all I got. It’s lunch time on Long Island. Love you guys.
Larry
P.S. Do you know up there what is going to happen down here before it does? If so, can you slip me a clue about how Jon Huntsman’s call for civility in the presidential campaign is going to turn out? Nobody is going to listen, right?
(Posted June 23, 2011)