All I want for Christmas

Is a good stiff drink! 

And another thing, a ring. Today is the shortest day of the year. We’re simpatico with the Eb Scrooge that was still limiting Bob Cratchit to a single lump of fossil fuel. Maybe we’re beaten down by a presidential choice that no one seems to want. One is senescent and the other is writing a sequel to Mein Kampf. Our best universities teach racial hatred, depending on the context.

It’s SAD, but your bloggeur may be suffering Seasonal Affective Disorder. Would more time under the heat lamp help? Crypto-currency, artificial intelligence, self-driving cars, and just plain old age is shivering his creaking timbers. Is it only a bit of undigested beef? Like Clark Griswold said, Pass the Tylenol. … Our smartphone keeps warning “Possible scam” … E-mail is clogged with dubious invoices recording purchases of an iPhone 13 Pro for $699.88. If you didn’t make the purchase, call their customer support team — credit card at the ready, no doubt. Tunnels lead from Gaza to Georgetown, cashmere sheep are eating the grassland in Mongolia, trees are growing in Nebraska, and Khruschev is due at Idlewild.

Our institutions are discredited: Congress, the Church, elections, higher education, lower education, Hollywood, the news media, the Justice Department, George Santos — all are in disrepute. Only Dolly Parton escapes censure. My Epson ET-5850 isn’t printing the color red.

At this point, even a visit from Cousin Eddie would be welcomed! He can park on the street (in Madison, on alternate sides). 

We need something like the Beatles to burst on the scene today like the Fab Four did in January 1964 when our nation was in deep depression due to the assassination of JFK! Those of us who lived through 11-22-63 still feel a clutch in the throat watching the recently concluded spate of documentaries on the 60th anniversary. We were ready back then for a major infusion of happiness (see how I highlighted that in yellow?!) and the insouciant, bouyant Beatles provided that.

Helps to watch the “record-busting audience” as Ed Sullivan described the second Beatles appearance on his 02-16-1964 shew, taped in Miami Beach to promote thuggish Sonny Liston’s defense of the boxing title against underdog Cassius Clay. Yeah, we could use a little Muhammed Ali, too, as he would become. (Who IS this girlfriend of Travis Kelce, anyway?) Ed introduces Liston, on a program sponsored by Lipton. The boxer gets a round of embarrassed murmering. His challenger doesn’t rate an intro. You’ve probably seen the photo of Ali clowning with the Beatles, a playful glove against one of their chins.

Got to like a program where the host tells the audience to shut up, as Ed Sullivan did on this show.

Ed was always must-watch TV — hellz bellz, you didn’t have but three networks. In those days, you endured the Topogigios and the fat-lady opera singers to get at the good stuff. (We enjoy opera now.) We notice that the Fab Four’s hair really wasn’t that long as it seemed back then. On Sullivan, Paul blows a song intro before they launch into “All My Loving.” John whispers a joke into George’s ear (likely at Paul’s expense) during their performance. Paul gets in a sly dig at Ed Sullivan by introducing their next number as being “recorded by our favorite American group, Sophie Tucker” (a frequent Sullivan guest relic whose heyday was in the 1920s), before launching into “I Want to Hold Your Hand.”

Blaska’s Bottom Line: When I touch you I feel happy, inside. That was then. Today, you’d be brought up on charges.

Do you feel fine?

(If so, what’s your excuse?)