This one is for Doc (to get his blood flowing again) ...

Amici:

The Doc’s recent trip to Disney with his wife, daughter and granddaughter has left him a bit run down ... what with no booze allowed in the park and marijuana sniffing pooches every ten feet, the compassionate one was forced to mingle with the dwarfs and wait on lines (and without his ability to twice weekly insult the ugly one, his beloved New York State Buffalo Bills (who didn’t lose last week) and/or our faltering fast President). So, with Doc in mind, here we go ...

The Tea Party ... it’s a great idea and something many Americans can relate to in these terrible economic times, but the problem with the movement has to do with the apparently batshit candidates who have come to its forefront (see link below). Even if you were to give people like Sara Palin a pass (and TK doesn’t) for having zero knowledge of the world at large (home or abroad), some of the other candidates are downright scary (i.e., Paladino, Angle, O’Donnell, et al). And let’s face it, when candidates are so scary or unknowledgeable as to make Sara Palin seem “pass worthy”, your movement is in deep shit.

Deep shit or batshit?


Watching Wall Street get bailed out with our money by the bozos they own in our government (the same ones we elect over and over and over again), brought a new level of frustration to the American workforce. Nothing quite like the frustration the French are showing these days (imagine having a 4 week vacation and a 60 year retirement age?) The French are revolting over a two year hike in the retirement age and while we might find that greedy, the French have no shortage of millionaires of their own.

Labor there isn’t so quick to acquiesce and whatever happens in France regarding the proposed upward adjustment to their retirement age, here we’ve been given the shaft by a government that not only doesn’t provide national health insurance, it bends over backwards to placate corporations at the expense of its workforce.

While we have zero problem with candidates without a Harvard or Yale degree or who can’t cite Supreme Court cases or who may have a checkered past (to include, drugs, alcohol, an arrest record and/or infidelity), we do have a problem with candidates who say things that are either silly or crazy. There is no denying that those with the Ivy League degrees and high profile corporate backgrounds are the ones who’ve bailed out Wall Street, got us into wars we can’t seem to get out of and ignored and denied basic constitutional rights (i.e., gays to marry, serve in the military without denying their sexuality, etc.). The same highbrows have allowed corporations to ruin local economies and the environment (i.e., BP). Both the previous and current administrations are the ones who permitted (and continue to permit) corruption and waste and the fleecing of America.

I know of several people without Washington qualifications who have been incredibly successful ... several from little old Canarsie (Starbucks, Howard Shultz; the Cerami brothers, Tom and Joe (one an ex-marine and corporate executive, the other a West Point Graduate and professor in Texas; Frank Morogiello, an Executive with American Airlines in Dallas and Lou Montella, an executive with a freight carrier).

Common sense is a good thing, no doubt, but the Tea Party has become nothing short of scary. The fact the GOP has now become dependent on its support is even scarier. The only lesson we think liberal democrats might take from the tea party movement is that there really is a way to influence the DNC ... but that would require liberal democrats growing a pair of balls and that just doesn’t seem to be in the cards. Instead, liberal democrats here have taken to following the lead of a party that ignores them by bashing the irrelevant on the other side of the political aisle and focusing all their energy on rewarding the same people who have ignored them to the point of labeling them the “professional left.”

And, of course, they ignore the following ...

Goldman Sachs reported net revenues of $8.9 billion and net earnings of $1.90 billion for its 3Q. Goldman Sachs thanks you, President Obama ... and obviously President Obama has thanked Goldman Sachs right back.

Campaign contributions from Goldman Sachs employees to President Obama are nearly seven times as much as President Bush received from Enron workers, according to numbers on OpenSecrets.org.

And then there’s this guy ...



“They’re gonna get what they voted for.”

Tell me about it, brother.

—Knucks

Welcome Sarina! ... the Volvo ... John Fante ... Dame Joan ... Rigoletto ...

Amici:

Doc is back (oh, joy) and today my beloved New York State Buffalo Bills can’t lose (bye week) but the real good news is a cousin from way back in my Canarsie past has surfaced (god bless the Internet) ... cousin Sarina Prizza lives in Australia these days and we reconnected this week. I can’t tell you how cool this is ... her Dad and Mom, Uncle Joe and Aunt Bright Eyes (how we knew them) lived on 81st Street in Canarsie and were always the most gracious hosts when Mom and Pop Stella (Uncle Tommy & Aunt Hope--before the Stella family scandal), shipped us (my sister and myself) off to 81st for some overnight entertainment with two of the brightest kids in Canarsie. Sarina’s brother John is a lawyer (but we don’t hold that against him) and Sarina has lived in Spain and now Australia with her husband; they have three kids. Uncle Joe was the greatest, really. I remember him taking all of us to the beach at Coney Island and always felt very protected around him. Sarina’s mom and my grandfather (Carmelo--whom I’m named after) were siblings.

Of course it’s the white sharks and all those poisoned jellyfish (not to mention crocs) that will keep the ugly one from swimming in the seas off the coast down under, but Tom Cerami (who lived directly across the street from Uncle Joe and Aunt Rose Stella on 95th Street) I know went diving with his wife in those waters (Tom, a former marine, was always a lot braver than moi). Obviously, so is his wife. Crocodiles (and alligators) remain a constant ugly one nightmare (the one where the alligators and crocs are all over the living room floor and Rigoletto is running around between them while I’m on the couch trying to get him) ... the dream ends with me using a bazooka on the house (although I always think of that AFTER I wake up).

Hey, they even made a movie about Sarina’s clan (Prizzi’s Honor) ... just joking amici, it was Momma Stella’s side of the family that was mobbed up ... Gazut (Gasper) and Aldo Calderazzo. Gazut was one of Tony Spilatro’s victims (one of the holes in the desert in the movie Casino) when he was sent to Vegas for some of the New York skim. Aldo identified his brother’s body.

Welcome Sarina to Knucksworld (I’ll fill her in on the Knucksline silliness in emails) ... and here’s the best part: She’s a Soprano’s fan. How cool is that? I’m sending her all the Stella books Monday so she can read up on where (and what) she lived amongst back in the day. Canarsie was one of the most mobbed up little burgs in New York at one time ... think Goodfellas (the Luchesi Family) ...

The Volvo ... the tank is a beast and with all the yellow stripes I had on the Honda from tagging cabs in Manhattan when they did that driving in two lanes bullshit, now I can count the ones I’ll put on the sidewalk. What’s that line again? “Come on, cabbie, make my day ...”


Wait Until Spring, Bandini ... a John Fante book every eye-talian should read was recommended by the fun fellas at Men Reading Books (because I’m an eye-talian?) ... what a GREAT read. I’ll be ordering the rest of Fante’s books soon as I catch up on some others I’m reading through now (currently, When Pride Still Mattered: A life of Vince Lombardi) ...

Speaking of Vince ... or, as he’s better known at Casa Stella, GOD.



RIP Dame Joan Sutherland ... perhaps the greatest soprano ever passed last week. She took the fat man under her thumb and brought perhaps the greatest tenor ever to light.

No, not me, Doc, Pavarotti ...

Hey, Sarina also likes opera! Here’s one for her (and the Doc) ... from the opera named after my dog (or vice versa), Rigoletto ...

Okay, I gotta go see Momma Stella now ... Don Corleone is anxious to give her sonny boy a big kiss on the chops and her sonny boy can’t wait to break her shoes ...

—Knucks

Murder in the Air ... Bills can’t lose this week ... Volvo it is ... Lombardi on Broadway ...

Amici:

Murder in the Air, by Bill Crider … at first glance at the book cover and title, I thought Sheriff Dan Rhoades was taking a trip somewhere and somebody on the flight gets whacked (or was whacked). But the reasons for the title and how the book came to pass was discussed over at Ed Gorman’s blog. The Sheriff Dan Rhoades series is an ongoing winner for an author who has countless books to his name and this one, like all the others, is a very enjoyable read. The usual cast of Clearview’s characters keep Sheriff Rhoades on his toes as the always clever repartee will keep readers smiling from start to finish. Murder in the Air was such a welcome break after struggling through Les Miserables a 2nd time (there won’t be a third), I wound up finishing the read within two days of commuting.

The Sheriff Rhoades series features an easy going, common sensed, blessing of a sheriff who manages to keep his head amongst the day-to-day weirdness that law enforcement most often has to deal with (like somebody shooting arrows at car tires, buildings and the occasional Sheriff). Sheriff Rhoades has Ivy to keep him grounded and bounce theories off of, but he also has his many pets, his always amusing sidekicks in law and the diverse town folk of Clearview in Blacklin County to keep the reader engaged. Each new scene is like a skit we suspect we know the end of (and sometimes do) but that always leave us smiling when it comes. And there’s always something new … this time when I started reading the latest Sheriff Rhoades saga, I discovered something I’d watched on an ESPN special … “noodling” (no, not one of my bigoted crime characters having sex with a Chinese person). Noodling is fishing … sort of.

Say what?



When a very unpopular guy who owns a worse than smelly chicken farm (it is a health hazard as well) and who is known to noodle for pleasure is found drowned in a local noodling hot spot, Sheriff Rhoades is called on the job. But someone (nicknamed Robin Hood) is shooting arrows (and he’s no Cupid) willy-nilly and at one point at Rhoades himself … and then there’s all the usual suspects the author keeps the reader guessing at and before you know it, between the pleasurable dialogue and the quirky situations (noodling is just one), you’re way too engaged to take a break.

Crider has been at it a long time and for good reasons (he’s engaging and fun to read)… and this reader wants to issue his Sheriff Rhoades a challenge (unless it’s been done and it’s one I missed) … we propose having one of those sinister organized crime figures (eye-talian, Russian, Mexican Mafia, etc., author’s choice) who has been relocated to Blacklin County after making his (or her) deal with the devil (the U.S. Attorney’s Office) come to the good Sheriff’s attention after a body is found greased old school style (with a pair of .22 slugs behind an ear) … but if Italian, a mackerel will suffice (rather than one of those 65 lb. catfish) to send a Sicilian message (because nobody can sleep with a fish that big).

Like I said, amici, Murder in the Air was another pleasure to read. It does what reading is supposed to do, engage you, keep you interested, leave you smiling and wanting more.

My beloved New York State Buffalo Bills can’t lose this (bye) week ... which is a clear indication that things will change in the great state of New York (where a certifiable crazy man running for Governor doesn’t want a “gay agenda” taught to kids). My deceased sister, who was gay, has a library dedicated in her name at a high school in Manhattan. Adele taught English as a second language and I’m pretty sure it had nothing to do with her (or any) “gay agenda” ... and as much as I have no use for either major political party, this is one time I’ll go ahead and give the nod to the Democratic candidate in New York for Governor. Whatever faults Mr. Cuomo (son of Mario) may have, I’m pretty sure being a bigoted asshole isn’t one of them.

I know, I know ... I’m not supposed to call politicians names anymore. Look for a future apology down the road ... in this case, very far down the road.

Shine up the Birkenstocks ... the stella famiglia went and purchased a Volvo after all (a 2003 S60, I think) ... this tank will feature America’s team (Buffalo Bills) logos on the front bumper and DW logos on the back bumper. How cool is that?

For the record, I'd focking kill myself before I wore sandals of any kind ... ever.

Lombardi on Broadway ... based on the book "When Pride Still Mattered: A Life of Vince Lombardi" by David Maraniss ... the ugly one is going with his boys to see a Broadway show about one of his heroes (Lombardi is God in casa stella). Lombardi was the ultimate football coach; a man driven to success by angels and demons alike. While his many famous quotes are often taken out of context by self-loathers who hold athleticism against those who have it, those who understand the beauty of sport and what it takes to succeed on any level (the effort, always the effort), cherish the man and his words. His brother was gay and Lombardi didn’t tolerate locker room gay bashing jokes (imagine that in 1960 NFL locker rooms). The cynicism surrounding perhaps his most famous quote: “Winning isn’t everything, it’s the only thing” ... comes from those who see what they want to see in the words and not anything near what Lombardi was actually saying to his players. He was also one of the most inspirational icons in American history. His success as a football coach (basketball, baseball or football) speaks for itself (talk about walking the walk). My favorite quote by Lombardi, for what it’s worth, remains: “Fatigue makes cowards of us all.”

The Stella men are looking very forward to this show.



—Knucks

While Doc’s in Disney ... Ooops ... More Miserables ... Doc says (?) ...

Amici:

While Doc vacations in Disney (it’s a good country, America. He’s unemployed two years now and still managing to vacation--so much for all that right wing bluster about being taxed unfairly), the ugly one returns to the diet/workouts ... oy vey.

In honor of Doc, though, his favorite pastime (besides breaking my and President Obama’s shoes), returns ... la opera ... from a 2000 Metropolitan Opera production of Mozart’s Don Giovanni, the greatest opera EVER ... with Bryn Terfel singing Don Giovanni and Hei-Kyung Hong singing Zerlina. Ms. Hong once couldn’t take her eyes off me when she sang the Countess in Le nozze di Figaro many years ago (I was in the 2nd row).

Ooops ... after having the Scotsman force several drinks down my gullet between feasting on the Principessa’s vast menu of goodies while Laird McLean was visiting, the ugly one has put on 6 pounds. Pisses me off no end because it isn’t just the booze or the grub. It’s the boss’s nursing classes ... the constantly going back and forth to Manhattan to pick her up doesn’t leave me time to hit the gym the way I was ... so with only a couple hours a night to myself, I tend to spend it in the fridge. Not to worry, I’m back on my horse as of Saturday ... 40 minutes of aerobics and about 8,000 less calories than Friday night.

Les Miserables ... I just finished rereading the Victor Hugo classic and found it to be one of the most frustrating reads of my life (for a second time). I loved The Hunchback of Notre Dame (although that too could’ve used an editor), but this wonderful story (Les Miserables) coincidences and all, could’ve used six editors; one for each social essay. I did enjoy reading about Waterloo again, but that’s where my interest ended on the social commentary (no need for the essay on monasteries, the sewers, the history of slang, etc.). The Broadway show was the reason I first read Les Miserables back when it first premiered in New York. My friend Mr. Ronnie read it and told me to give it a shot. I distinctly remember getting frustrated with some of the never ending narrative and skipping a few pages here and there. Well, twenty years later, I found myself just as frustrated and skipping probably the same pages. As one who makes it a point to read everything in a book, sometimes over and over until I feel I gave it a genuine chance (in case I was tired, etc.), this was unbearable. The story is wonderful, as are the characters, but all the bullshit in between it is just too much.

On that note, I purchased two books on kindle this week: Bill Crider’s, Murder in the Air and a recommendation from one of yous, East Coast Don over at Men Reading Books, Wait Until Spring, Bandini (by John Fante).

But let’s not stop there ... one more for the Doc. The next to last scene of the GREATEST opera EVER (and no, Doc, it’s not about a dinner reservation ... oy vey).



And since he’s not here (and he demanded I write it for him), let me get his words of compassion in here and now:

Doc says:

Gee, Chaz, you gained weight? What a surprise! That’s like someone predicting some of Obama’s stimulus money was being mailed to dead people ... or that we’d still be losing jobs almost two years after his lazer-like focus on unemployment ... or that people suddenly getting slammed with 10-40% insurance premium increases was something nobody knew was coming before Obama care went into effect.

Gee, you just never know, do you?

And if you read a book you didn’t like, imagine what the amicis will think of it? Usually we want to hang ourselves with your recommendations. Come to think of it, maybe this one is something we can live with for a change.

And thanks for the opera, buddy. Just what I needed after a week with ten thousand kids, Mickey Mouse and no alcohol permitted in the park. Now I have no excuse not to kill myself.

Your pal,

Doc

Doc says ... about that Scotsman and other things ...

Amici:

First of all, Chaz, let me make it clear that I was deeply offended by the blatant British Isles bigotry in your latest article. You of all people should realize my affection for this magnificent tapestry of humankind in all it’s splendid diversity. I have confided in you of my dream that someday my Irish and your Dagos will stand together as one to denigrate the Frogs and the Krauts and the Wet Backs in a splendiferous brotherhood of man.

Secondly, you gave the poor Scot the wrong directions and then criticize him for not showing up where you “imagined” he should be? Gee, 3,000 miles from home with bad directions... how could he go wrong. Remember, I've traveled with you. You couldn't find your ass with two hands and seeing-eye toilet paper.

To put it in historical perspective, 500+ years ago, ancestors of yours drew a map for Christopher Columbus showing him how to find China. And he showed up where? To this day, to celebrate this accomplishment, teachers and government workers take a day of rest and white sales to commemorate the event… like someone wouldn’t have found it anyway.

FIRST AMENDMENT RIGHTS

Does that supposed church have the rights to scream vile shit about homosexuals and soldiers at the funeral of fallen heroes? Absolutely! The same way that we have the right to send all the police guarding these scumbags to lunch 30 minutes before the ceremony starts. The rest will take care of itself.

THE CALIFORNIA ELECTION

Isn’t there some kind of legal ethical code (oxymoron) that you do not get your client to confess to numerous federal violations on national television in response to questions that no one is asking? So Gloria Allred throws this clueless, chunky, illegal alien under the bus just to discredit Meg Whitman. It’s well known that Gloria is a friend of Jerry Brown. For the younger amicis, Jerry Brown was the ineffectual governor of California back when I was hanging up my love beads and leaving SDS so I could get a job and buy food. Just to give you a hint, he was known as Governor Moonbeam.

And, Gloria, in the “Buy a Fucking Clue” category… just because your last name is “Allred” you don’t have to always wear red. Suppose my name was Dick, should I always display my… well, you get my point.

A KNUCKSLINE CHALLENGE

As you know, Chaz, the falling leaves and temperature have forced me to close the pool. To deal with my malaise I have arranged to take a week long sabbatical to mingle with my intellectual peers… Goofy, Donald and Sleeping Beauty (she never got over the former Doc). To justify the trip I am also bringing my wife, daughter and 5 year old granddaughter.

Here’s the deal: By Wednesday I expect to see the usual TK drivel…Drums are a musical instrument, Sarah Palin is stupid, capitalism would work better if we were all communists, opera doesn’t sound like ferrets fighting, the Bills are really gonna stomp them bastards next time, yada, yada, yada.

Now, the hard part… by Friday, I expect to see an “and the Doc says” response, from you, to your Wednesday epistle. Bear in mind there are certain standards for a Doc-umentary:

- All men are equal under God.
- The position of President of the United States demands respect.
- Capitalists are people too.
- Sarah Palin has got a bitchin’ little body.
- Opera was bearable until Jerry Lee came along.
- Foul language is the last resort of a weak minded asshole.

And an appropriate tune might be a nice touch.

To those of you who are not in the Magic Kingdom… have a nice week!

Doc

The Scotsman and the ferry ... he cometh and he get losteth ...

Amici:

Russel McLean (a.k.a., Laird McLean; Where am I (?) McLean; Staten Island Ferry McLean and the always popular, Sonny Jim McLean is lost AGAIN), has a distinct fondness for the Staten Island Ferry. Monday we were supposed to pick up the Laird near the Principessa Ann Marie’s school on Chambers and Greenwich Streets, but (truth be told) we gave him a single block mis-direction and told him Chambers and West Broadway (one block east of his actual destination—although we did tell him “in front of the McDonald’s and ASSUMED, the Laird being Scottish and all, he wouldn’t have trouble finding a Scottish hamburger joint with big Golden Arches, across the street from a SCHOOL, etc.).

Where the Laird wound up, however, was at the Scottish hamburger joint across the street from the STATEN ISLAND FERRY (about 1.2 miles) from the assigned destination.

It took several gulps of the ugly one’s favorite sauce (Chivas) to calm the nerves once we made it back to good old Fords, New Jersey and casa stella.

Like all Europeans, Russel blamed the NYPD.

If yous get a chance to see the Laird himself, he’ll be at Murder by the Book in Houston.

We’re hoping the author of Money Shot (above) Christa Faust can straighten him out (and if anybody can, it’ll be Christa) when he’s put on a short spiked leash over on the left coast in LA later in the week.

Frustrations to the left of me?



TK says it’s ABOUT FRIGGIN’ TIME the left showed some exhaustion. President Obama has ignored the left from the get-go and now that his back is against the wall, the left needs to show him the two alternatives he faces: a possible extended contract or unemployment ... sort of like what the rest of us have been going through (minus the Martha's Vineyard vacations ...).

—Knucks

Doc says ...

Dear Chaz,

Just to clear things up, the only reason I was on my feet all of Friday night was because every time I twitched I heard “Get me another beer while you’re up, Doc.” I might have thought that you were confusing me with your wife except I know the Principessa does not play Princess Leia while you are doing your Jabba the Hutt impression.

BHO’s DRIVING SCHOOL:

Personally, I’m getting tired of the Bamster’s “Car” metaphor. Yeah, yeah, it’s cute. “D” is for Democrat, “R” is for Republican. If you want to go forward, you put the car in “D”. If you want to go backwards you put the car in “R”. If you’re eleven years old, this is clever as hell.

In another of his speeches in the “Car” series, the Democrats are pushing the car up the hill while the Republicans are at the top of the hill drinking Slushies asking for the keys. The Bamster says you can’t have the keys because you can’t drive. Dear Fredo, if you start the freaking car you could drive it up the hill. And let’s not kid ourselves, Obama is not the type to help push the car up the hill. He’d be sitting in the back seat yelling to 112 year old Harry Reid to “Put your back into it, Harry! My ice cream is melting.”

Just another tip, before you put the car into (D) and drive off why don’t you check to see if you have enough money to buy gas after you’ve finished topping off all the Bentleys in the Goldman-Sachs parking lot.

ELENA KAGAN
has recused herself for 25 of the 51 cases due to come before the Supreme Court. Did the genius in the White House not anticipate this or has Supreme Court Justice suddenly become a part time job. I guess I should not be surprised that our part-time president would appoint a part-time Justice.

MISCELLANEOUS
And what are the chances that the guy who wants to build the Ground Zero Mosque has a wife that’s named Daisy? Give me a f#cking break! That’s like when you call up the Dell Help Desk and the geek with the heavy Indian accent tells you, “Hello, I would be Mike. How can I be helping you?”

“Mortgage the house and take the Bills in the upset of the week, Bills 34 – Yets 17 … because NOBODY CIRCLES THE WAGONS LIKE THE BUFFALO BILLS!” (TK 09/30/10)

Great call on the score, Chucky! You almost called it dead on. You screwed up on which team would actually have those scores, but that is a minor detail. Well maybe not such a minor detail for the families that, as you suggested, mortgaged the house and are now living in a drain pipe under the turnpike overpass, but you are a quasi-liberal… you can claim you mis-spoke.

Have a great week, Generalissimo.
Doc

One of my favorite girls, singing one of my favorite songs, with one of my favorite bands …