July 16, 2010


Some day we're all gonna look back on this period in our lives like we ancient ones us did The Sixties, or The Carter Years or the eight years of dress-stained governance hosted by Bill Clinton. But as you young whippersnappers are beginning to realize in caring for your drooling, diaper-clad sesquicentennial relatives, our minds are imperfect recording devices and things are not as we remember.

In fact, spinning through the Rolodex of my memories, I am sure that the daughter-of-a-Schenley's rep, Dianna Delouis (sadly, not pictured above), was not quite the super-hot blond beach bunny I remember I dated as a UCLA Freshman. (Although Dianna was hot, a great pool player, loved the beach, and her dad liked the hell out of me and kept crooning, "When you and Dianna get married, I'm gonna set you up with your own liquor distributorship out here in Sherman Oaks.")

Our bitter memories tend to get blurred and softened over time as well.

"Omaha was not really that bad, was it?"

"Surely Carter did not stink up the barn as Prez, did he?"

Yes, Omaha sucked if you were a young kid from the beaches of Southern California and the biggest body of water you could get to was (1) the banks of the Missouri River, (2) the rec pool, (3) your bath tub. And, yes, Carter was a freaking nightmare. Why on earth do you think that we all elected a retired actor and G.E. spokesman?

O.K., maybe I exaggerate, but that's the point. We need to remember how bad these current times really are and I am not referring to the "Brother, can you spare a dime" romanticizing done about the First Great Depression (as opposed to the Next One we are staring at). We need a factual, almost antiseptic account of the day-to-day events we are enduring. There are a lot of sites that traffic ion the glitzy, sensationalistic posts of Obama's gaffes, but these are flashes of brilliance and wit and homor (and pathos) spread over a number of worthy sites and interspersed with the misdeeds of the other members of the D.C. Clown Troupe. What is needed is a consistent catalog of these day-to-day gaffes and missteps focused on our beloved leader, Chimpy, the Kenyan.

In a recent e-mail to The Left Coast Rebel -- who does a pretty fair job of chronicling Obama's daily shortcomings himself -- I mentioned that we needed to start such a project and he responded with the link to The Obama Fail Blog. A quick review had me hooked. It became clear that there was no finer chronicling done in such a consistent workmanlike manner. While the progenitor does imbue some posts with editorial comment (hard to avoid given such blatant stupidity by the blog's subject), it does relate the cited events or circumstances in a pretty dispassionate manner. It's, um, you know, like Ed Morrissey's "Obamateurism" of the day/week, a site that will provide a regular historical record of what we had to endure for (hopefully) four years of this idiot -- day by day.

It started a little before the inauguration and continues almost daily.

The value of such a site as this is not that it will receive tremendous traffic for any one or more of its postings but for what it will have become on (again, hopefully) 21 January 2013. If the creator of this blog is smart, he will export the contents of his tour de force into hard copy, ship it off to a publisher, and have a souvenir coffee-table book made of it. I keep commenting on Morrissey's weekly Obamateurism that he should aggregate and publish similarly.

At present, we're probably living though what will prove to be the worst presidency in the history of this nation; not by inches, but by miles. You know, like Carter coming in at #43 and Obama coming in at, oh, say #67 because any president who follows him for the next century (at least) could not displace him from the bottom rung -- evah!. We will need to provide our grandchildren (still busy paying for this idiot's missteps) documentation as to how and why we got here.

Also, think back of the rumors and unseemly back stories that arise after a president leaves office. Are you remembering the huge stink bombs that materialized after Clinton's eight interminable years? How a lot of stuff came to light that was just flat-assed repugnant? Well, I think we're staring at something like that in *ahem* spades. Again, like Omaha, Nebraska and the Carter years for me, your mind will soften this memory and soothe your psyche convincing that it could not have been as bad as it really was. You will need a reminder.

..you know, a memory of the nightmare that was this failed presidency.


  1. Foul, foul ... you got me here under false pretenses. I saw this photo of the bodacious surfer chick in my sidebar, and hurried my ass over here. Not only is she displaying an outrageous left cheek, but she's also carrying the instrument of my favorite sport that I still miss after all these thirty years in the mountains. Run away, run away everybody ... it's another Obama article.

  2. ..isn't one of "That Other McCain's" silly-assed rules for getting a ga-zillion blog hits have something to do with gratuitously putting pics of babes on one's site?

    Anyway, that's my memory of Dianna and I am sticking to it.

    ..neener, neener, neener!

    Where'd you surf, by the way? SoCal? O.C., Santa Cruz? I learned -- believe it or not -- on the East Coast (Long Island and Atlantic City in '62, surfed Santa Cruz in the Winters of '62 and '63. (Steamer Lane was a frozen Hell.) And then moved down to SoCal in '64 and the O.C. in '65.

    I used to hit County Line, Secos, Malibu, Sunset, State Beach, Haggerty's, PeeVee, Seal Beach, Huntington Beach, The Wedge, Laguina's Brooks and Thalia Streets, Killer Dana (yes, *that* Killer Dana), MeePees, Doheny, Trestles (of course), Riff-Raff Reef, Oceanside, Tamarack, Cardiff, Windansea, and every "K" spot North of Punts Bandas.

    ..hey, my memory ain't so bad after all!

  3. You two are making me homesick for the beaches I spent time at. That's it. I do not miss where I grew up at all.

    Speaking of Carter: Our utility company sent a horrible letter recommending summer AC at 78 and winter heating at 68. I shuddered thinking Carter years are back! No re-do for me.

  4. Step aside Sonia were talking MAN talk here. You're a surfer dude too huh. I surfed from 1960 to 1980 when I moved to the mountains. My home base was D&W at the end of the runways at LAX. I think I surfed everywhere from ( hang on it's been thirty years ) Gaviota North of Santa Barbara to Cow Pastures near Ensenada.

    One of my favorite places was by you at the Huntington Cliffs, but my best time was when I was at Malibu and there was four of us two days in a row with 6 foot surf. That was the two best days of my life and rates right up there with my son being born.

    TWP, I spent a lot of time (because I'm LA school educated) getting that comment just right. I thought it was one of the best things I've ever written. It was very funny I thought.

    Oh, I'll bet I've been to those places, but they were called something different in my time or in my group. I recognized about 75% of the names.

    Sonia, forgive me, I was being silly. You were a valley girl, huh?

  5. I forgive you Odie. I didn't mean to interrupt the man talk but So. Cal Beaches always perks my interest. I grew up in Van Nuys. My parents forced my eldest brother 14 years older than me, to take my other brother and me on his beach dates with his babes. Young siblings age 4 & 5 were birth control back in '63.

  6. Supi, you're never interrupting! A pleasure to have you share your reminiscences. I wish this venue offered better mechanics for a discussion, but you two are welcome to blaze away to your heart's content.

    Maybe I'll do a skeletal post sometime on surfing or Southern California in the 60s and you folks can share your reminiscences.

    Mrs War Planner 1.0 (I am now on release 2.0) had parents who were transferred to Hawaii in '66 when I was a sophomore at UCLA so I got to hit some of the breaks on Oahu during the next 10 years. My favorites were Ala Moana, Shark Island (until I realized why it got its name), Makapuu (body surfing), and Maile on the leeward side. It was only Summers so nothing was breaking up on the North Shore -- as if I could handle it.

    I was at Malibu also when there were just a few guys out and there were only 1/2-foot "toe washers" breaking. Then, strangely, a heavy West swell hit and we had some raging good waves all to ourselves until word got out and Mickey Dora showed up.

    Odie, I loved the cliffs. The last time I was on a board (over a year ago) was there. I loved the "double break" where the serious surfers could get some healthy 3-4 foot walls when a South swell hit and the kids could learn on the inside break.

    Now, the upper end of the Cliffs is a dog beach (literally) and I take Alice (my 13-year-old ex-greyhound workalike) from time to time.

    Surfed D&Ws once on a super scary Winter day when Redondo Pier was closing out. I paddled out, got killed when a wave closed out on me, and paddled in. That whole stretch from Ballona Creek to Manhattan was terra incognita beach break I could never get into. Same with PV and Lunada Bay on cold, foggy mornings with the old freighter -- The Dominator -- breaking up outside.

    ..which just about seals the deal, Odie. You gotta make it down here so we can do this live. (Talk, that is.) Supi, you are most welcome to join us.

  7. Crap, crap, and mega-crap!

    I wrote this terrific response to you and Odie, Supi, and Google swallowed it. The main thrust was you are never interrupting and I just wish this venue supported a more conversational mode.

    Please feel free to blaze away to your heart's content. Maybe I'll do a skeletal post on Surfing and Southern California some day and solicit both your reminiscences.

  8. Google ate it and then gave it back. Sometimes I high light and copy what I've written just in case Google eats it. Well on the large responses anyway.

    You describe my old stomping grounds so well. That Malibu trip sounds really familiar. I was there three days in a row somewhere around 1966. The first two days my friend and I shared it with two other guys (you?). On the third day F***ing Mickie Dora and about 100 other guys showed up. The word got out and it ruined it. I'll never forget those first two days though. Six foot surf and only four guys to enjoy it. Those were the best two surfing days of my life.

    Sonia, really, thanks for your additions ... Miss Birth Control.

  9. ..more like vomited it back: digital commentary on the worthiness of my deathless prose.