The Luna Park Gazette

When was the last time I thought about Snagglepuss? I waste a lot of time and brain cells on all sorts of worthless trivia, but that cartoon cougar hasn’t crossed my mind in decades. That dry spell ended on Thursday as I was wrapping up my workout at the gym and the character’s catchphrase “Heavens to Mugatroyd!” popped into my head. For those of you who don't know, Snagglepuss was a Hanna-Barbara character who made his debut in 1959. He wore an upturned collar, shirt cuffs, and a bow tie. He had a love for theater and he constantly broke the fourth wall to speak to his audience. His voice bears a resemblance to Bert Lahr's--the Cowardly Lion himself--and Lahr, in fact, filed a lawsuit when Snagglepuss appearred in a run of Kellogg's ceral commericals. I'm not sure why he came to mind, but since I’m taking a break from blogging for a little while, I’m thinking of one of Snagglepuss’ other lines: “Exit, stage left!”, which he said when he had to mak

Now I think I know why that lady was so angry. I know it’s a pretty much a lost cause to yearn for silence in this world of bloviating blowhards, but I keep hoping. Take last Thursday, for exampe, when I had an early morning doctor’s appointment near my gym, so I figured I’d work out, grab something to eat and then go see my sawbones. The gym went fine, and I picked up a banana and a carton of yogurt at a local vegetable store and sat on a bench on 5th Avenue and 85th Street. This was about 8AM and I was stunned at how quiet it was at this spot, which is usually buzzing with all kinds of noise and activity. This is great , I thought as I unpeeled my banana, I’m going to eat, relax and enjoy the morning. “I’m going to murder that woman...” I looked up and saw this strange woman staring at me—or at least, staring in my direction as she made her death wish. I was about to answer when I realized that she was operating on an entirely different wavelength and that it wo

A few weeks ago, I rewatched The Howling a 1981 horror movie I hadn't seen in over 40 years. The film featured the most amazing werewolf transformation sequences I had ever scene, although I'm sure they are now woefully out of date. Moonstruck I had first seen movie at the Lowe's Alpine theater, which was right around the corner from our house, with my brother, Peter, and our mother. Yes, our mother came with us. Like us--and very unlike our father--Mom was a fan of the old Universal horror movies— Frankenstein, Dracula, The Mummy —the whole gang of ghouls. Of course, horror movies had changed a bit since those 1940s fossils. In addition to new and improved special effects, the modern flicks were much more violent and good deal raunchier. My mother learned this lesson the hard way a few years earlier when I took her to see The Exorcist . Nevertheless, she wanted to see this movie and Count Dracula would sooner be sunbathing on the steps of th

File this one under “ Thanks, I needed that .” I was working out at my new gym last week when a young woman asked me if I was using the plyobox. (I had to look this one up .) I assured her that I wasn’t—and I doubt that I ever will—and as she picked the thing up, she turned to me. “I have to tell you that you’re doing fantastic,” she said. “Thank you so much,” I blurted, shocked that someone even noticed my workout, let alone be impressed by it. I still feel like an outsider at this new place, so a few kind words make me feel at home. And since I recently turned 65, applied for Medicare and filled out a form for a senior discount Metrocard, I'll gladly accept any and all praise from anyone who wants to share. She went her way and I continued working out. Later I wondered if she actually meant “you’re doing fantastic—for a creaky old fossil.” I hope not. I’ve had a few brushes with senior moments recently. I have trouble recalling actors' names, even

In 1971, Johnny Cash wrote and recorded a song called “The Man in Black” that protested the treatment of the poor, mass incarceration and the war in Vietnam. I have a vague memory of seeing him performing the song on one of the variety shows of the day, which is a bit surprising given how cautious the TV networks were back then. “ I wear the black for the poor and the beaten down ,” the song goes, “ livin' in the hopeless, hungry side of town. I wear it for the prisoner who is long paid for his crime, but is there because he's a victim of the times.” The song comes to mind now as we get ready to celebrate the Fourth of July. I’ll be wearing a black t-shirt tomorrow. It’s supposed to be a bright, sunny day, which ordinarily would be a perfect time to wear my American flag t-shirt or the one with the fireworks image emblazoned across the front. But I’m not feeling terribly patriotic in light of the U.S. Supreme Court’s decision to overturn Roe vs. Wade and send a