Larry Storch: My Corporal Crush, in the Land of Fort Courage

Jan 26, 2017 | 7452 Views | 5 Comments

I gave up trying to explain the appeal of my “crush objects” long ago. My fantasy figures, be they flesh-and-blood or fictional characters, have always been quirky types that never fit the traditional tall, dark, handsome, all-star, man-of-means mold. Such was the case with one of my earliest heartthrobs: Larry Storch. I’ve been in love with the guy from the first time I laid eyes on him: September 14, 1965, the date F-Troop debuted on ABC television. I remember watching each episode of that Western satire, sitting three feet away from our Westinghouse TV, ignoring Mommy’s... Read More »

Rudolph, You Rock. Now Wise Up, Reindeer!

Dec 12, 2016 | 14727 Views | 1 Comment

Okay, Rudolph, you've gone down in history with that song of yours. And for what? Selling out! So you were born with a shiny red schnoz and had the misfortune of living in a polar ice cap with no access to a plastic surgeon or electrician. And all those big-antlered reindeer jocks and their patent-leather-hoofed cheerleader girlfriends called you names and shunned you because of it. I know, I know...it hurts to be the last one picked for the volleyball team. Bullying sucks. But, Rudolph, you copped out and allowed those conformist reindeer snobs to welcome... Read More »

Let Me Sleep All Night in Your Soul Kitchen

Nov 3, 2016 | 5874 Views | 1 Comment

Heavens to Murgatroyd! How did I forget to post this item yesterday in honor of…you guessed it…National 'Men Make Dinner' Day? Shite, my man didn't make me any vittles! Well, I guess it's MY fault for not alerting him to this most important and manly of holidays. Geez, women have to think of everything. I'll bet nobody had to ask these guys to get the burner going. What a sight: two of my favorite menfolk slaving over a hot stove, just the way god would want it. Are they barefoot, by any chance? Ladies, come on! Who WOULDN'T want a... Read More »

Love Amid the Rubble: Ronnie Lane’s Tender Ode to His Dad, Saint Stan

Jun 19, 2016 | 17924 Views | 3 Comments

I heard your footsteps at the front door, and that old familiar love song. ‘Cause you knew you'd find me waiting there, at the top of the stairs. Those lyrics weren’t written by a heartsick bloke waiting for his lover to come home. They were composed by an artist recalling his boyhood days in a working-class London neighborhood, waiting for his tireless dad to return from his Sunday morning trudge to the local junk market. You were sorting through the odds and ends, You was looking for a bargain. Ronnie Lane, the artist once described by Mojo writer Wayne Pernu... Read More »

You Score an Ounce, Olé — Paul, Pot, and the Petition of ’67

Jun 18, 2016 | 16848 Views | 3 Comments

Even if Bob Dylan hadn't introduced The Beatles to marijuana at New York's Delmonico Hotel, the boys would have lit up soon enough. From that August 1964 night onward, "let's have a laugh" quickly became their code phrase for "let's have a toke." And laugh they did. At least until the infamous Sgt. Norman Pilcher and his drug-sniffing dogs Yogi and BooBoo came snooping around their London abodes. The cop and his canines found 12 grams of cannabis in a binocular case in John and Yoko's apartment in October 1968, and a few months later discovered a... Read More »