Somebody get me that time machine, because this is the version of adulthood in which I want to live.
Just two career gals...Sally and Janet, we'll call them...two bachelor gals living together in their own fifth-floor walk-up apartment, in The Big City, and all that that implies.
They don't plan on being in the secretarial pool at Dewey, Cheatem, and Thensome forever, of course. In fact, they both have great hopes for the two young go-getters from the accounting department at the office...Stan and Hal, we'll call them...who are coming around for chips and dip and maybe a lively game of Scrabble, perhaps a bit of dancing to the records Sally and Janet so carefully set out on the Hi-Fi. Everyone likes Stan Getz, right? Sure they do. And that "Corcovado" song is just right for slow dancing, should things go well.
Carefully coiffed, nine thousand gallons of hairspray used between the two of them to lacquer their looks into place, Sally and Janet are no floozies. Sure, they're modern girls, and both like a good time. They'll invite a suitor or two into their apartment for some laughs. But try some Funny Business, and you'll be shown the door. A girl has to have morals, after all, even if it is the Space Age. Men don't buy the cow when they can drink the milk for free!
Or, apparently, drink mind-boggling amounts of Schlitz. I don't think neither Stan nor Hal are very marriage-minded at all, bringing that much beer to the party like Sally and Janet are a couple of good-time floozies! A girl always prefers pretty flowers to a couple of six-packs, fellas!
"Can you believe that Stan? He tried to cop a feel while we were dancing!" Sally huffed, as she took off her pearls. "And he seemed like such a doll at the Christmas party," said Janet. Then she sighed, unhooked her left stocking, and daintily yanked it from her leg.
It was the one saving grace from that horrid spring of 1993, when my entire worldview was shattered by Dylan McKay choosing slutty Kelly over soulful Brenda.
And no, I am still not over it.
For those of you who do not remember (perhaps because you are too young...yeesh!), Beverly Hills, 90210 had popular tunes and videos playing over the ending credits most of the time. This song was one of them, and had a little Donna Martin cameo at the very beginning, standing at a jukebox at the Peach Pit. She looks up and says, "Jeremy Jordan...all right!"
I'll never forget watching The Young Ones on MTV in early 1988, after 120 Minutes. No other show before or since knocked me on my ass more. It changed my comedic sensibilities forever, and for the better, and Rik Mayall was a HUGE part of that.
Hopeful pastel-colored tissue-paper blooms, the lovely smile of a young lady wearing what I suspect is the product of many hours of labor by her mother at a sewing machine and a Simplicity pattern (or perhaps she made it All By Herself in her Home Ec class), the proud yet slightly sheepish smile of a tall young man who is thrilled to be the young lady's escort (so you can forgive his predilection for plaid)...it's photos like these that keep me blogging here.
I've always said that 1965 was the best year for music.
Certainly it brought to listeners one of the most iconic records of the decade, if not ever. Not just for the music, mind you (but oh, that music was fabulous!)...but that sexy, salacious, audacious album cover.
You know the one, because chances are, your parents had this record in their collection, too.
Let's have a cocktail party.
Put the kids to bed early, put this record on the hi-fi, and put the nibbles on the coffee table. I hope I made enough rumaki for everyone...
I'll have a vodka gimlet, please, darling. Will you zip up my new dress?
Now, sweetheart, remember...you promised not to get too tight and argue politics with Stan Facemeyer like you did the other night at the Howards'. Linda Facemeyer is one of my very best friends, and we hate it when you boys argue.
*DING DONG* Get the door, will you, sweetie? I can't go out there without my lipstick!
At the tender age of eight, Susan Cowsill appeared with "family band" The Cowsills on The Ed Sullivan Show. You read that right: she was eight years old.
She may have been a kid, but she works that tambourine and sings like she was born to be in the band with her brothers and mother. You can't take your eyes off of her. Whatever "it factor" was or is, little Susan had it, and in spades. She was a groovy little chick, a real voodoo child. And when that young lady started dancing? Forget it. The girl had moves.
CBS flubbed the audio on the first verse and chorus in this clip. Stick with it; when the mikes get switched on properly, you get to hear the band's remarkable vocals.
All of the Cowsill children were the victims of their militant, domineering father, Bud. The Cowsills were so liked by Ed Sullivan, he wanted them for an unheard-of TEN guest appearances for the show. However, because of the audio flub by CBS at the beginning of the song, Bud had a huge argument with the Sullivan people.
The Cowsills would only appear once more on the show. UPDATE from October 2014: I found this clip, a medley of tunes showcasing each individual member. Little Susan belts out "Sweet-talkin' Guy."
"Joanie, you look so pretty in that Nehru jacket! Go pose with Mr. Whiskers by the tree."
I am a big fan of "found photos."
You've heard of this, right? People go to flea markets and garage sales and buy up old unwanted photographs for their own use and enjoyment.
At first, I thought this was the saddest pursuit I had ever come across. Then I changed my mind. Photos don't have to lose their purpose when they become orphaned; no, instead photos and their subjects find new lives, new appreciation, and no one is forgotten.
After all, what is a photograph? I am a person. I walked on this planet. I had a life, and someone thought to document a moment of that life, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant. I was here.
Now I myself am an avid collector. And the Internet, Pinterest especially, is a fountain of such photos. My favorites involve people posing with their pets. Since I am a much-abused human belonging to a cat, I like photos with kitties the best...so much so, "Random Kitties" is a new category here on this blog.
Nothing warms the jaded cockles of my heart like a fresh big ole' mess of commercials from 1979. It's like God heard my prayer, (no, not the one where The Almighty starts bestowing upon me an unlimited supply of Xanax-infused Magnum ice cream bars, the other prayer) and He had me find His bountiful, um, bounty on YouTube just now.
These commercials aired on ABC on November 23rd, 1979.
1. Contac 2. Mystique Books 3. Maybelline Eye Color Styling Pencils 4. Tostitos 5. Promo for "The Ropers", "Detective School", "The Love Boat" and "Fantasy Island" 6. ABC Station ID 7. TV Spot for "10" 8. Chimere 9. Promo for "When She Was Bad" 10.
"Playboy's Roller Disco & Pajama Party" Commercial Bumper 11. Promo for "Mork & Mindy" 12. Eyewitness News Update 13. Amoco 14. Promo for "Ski Scene" 15. KSTP Station ID 16. One A Day Plus Iron 17. Signal 18. Promo for "Eight Is Enough", "Charlie's Angels" and "Vega$" 19. Hefty 20. Ruffles 21. Pepsi 22. Mazda RX-7 23. "Playboy's Roller Disco & Pajama Party" End Credits
I must have done something to please Our Lord. Oh, I know what it must have been: I didn't steal 23 packets of chopsticks at the conveyor belt sushi joint yesterday like I usually do. Thanks, Santa Jesus!
"When She Was Bad" = "When Television Movies Had Cheryl Ladd and Robert Urich In Them, And Life Was Great"
Dorothy Stratten was featured heavily in the Playboy show, both roller-skating in a bikini and dancing in modest lingerie with The Village People (ironically, to a song called, "Are You Ready For The Eighties?"). You don't see her in this clip, but it's easy to find on YouTube.
All kidding aside...I know Dorothy was a gift from God. It hurts to look at her, knowing that her happiness on earth would be so brief.
Before Count du Money had Liebchen's teeth fixed, I'll bet.
Close Up: jankity teeth, fragrant lady bits, and a high school education. Fired from Delta Airlines for vulgar language and even more vulgar behavior during a flight. And this is what The Count destroys his family for?
I still want to smack the smug off of Dan's face.
It's tough when you look at photographs such as these, everyone looking so nice in their absolute finest, and such fun being had...knowing how terrible all three, Betty, Dan, and Linda, were being to each other all the while. Three grown adults, obviously with much to offer the world and the resources to be as happy as they wanted to be, acting completely as children.
Neglecting the Broderick children.
What a mess all three of them made of their lives. Two dead, one in prison. What a completely ridiculous mess.
Like I said before: now all that is left are photographs.
Notice that she is wearing emerald and diamond earrings. Probably a gift from Danny Boy. Dan Broderick and his fellow annoying friends were all obsessed with Ireland, you know. (Including David Monahan, the lawyer who was so mean to Linda Kolkena about her lack of a college education that he used to make her cry...something her paramour, Danny Boy, apparently did nothing about.) Christ, Dan Broderick must have been a thumping, insufferable bore to know. An overgrown fraternity boy with an overinflated sense of self. Maybe if he and his second bride, partners in infidelity and mental cruelty and eventually death, had been a little nicer to his *first* bride, the mother of his children, we'd still be able to find out whether or not my assessment is correct. They chose to be mean, manipulative, and childish. They drove Betty crazy. Betty shot them both and killed them. Now all that is left are photographs.
Betty Broderick murdered her ex-husband, Dan Broderick, and his longtime mistress and wife of six months, Linda Kolkena Broderick, seventeen years ago today. You know the story: maligned ex-wife and philandering ex-husband are locked in a vicious divorce battle. Ex-husband marries The Other Woman. Ex-wife kills them both. My mind has changed about Betty. At first, I felt that she was a total victim, a woman wronged both by her man and by the system where her man was clearly king. I cheered her for murdering the philandering ex-spouse and the tweetie bird he fucked on the down-low for years before finally marrying her. After all, there was very little to like or appreciate about the victims. Dan Broderick was your garden-variety sleazeball personal injury attorney who weaseled his way into a post as the President of the San Diego Bar Association. Linda Kolkena was your typical skinny vapid blonde, a fantasy girl for a midlife crisis case who is stuck with an iceberg for a wife and has a fierce desire to spend his lunch hours Proving His Manhood while entangled in sweat-soaked sheets after sipping cheap champagne in the airport Holiday Inn. It's the oldest story in the world. Rich successful man in an unhappy marriage takes a mistress who grew up poor and was looking for a sugar daddy. Rich successful man leaves the wife who helped to make him so damned rich and successful. The bimbo gets the spoils. It's vastly unfair to the wronged wife. But now, I am just angry with Betty.
Not for the murders, mind you: while I do believe that all killing is wrong, I will also say that there were never two people who were more hell bent on antagonizing a woman who they claimed was crazy. Repeatedly...and loudly...and in their shared community...to mutual friends, to judges and therapists, to reporters, to anyone who would listen. People frightened of the tiger do not put their hands in the cage. Dan and Linda Broderick relished putting Betty Broderick through hell in the legal system, and of course there was no one to stop them. No one was willing to stop them. Dan was President of the Bar Association and had a lot of powerful friends.
After all, it isn't every day when the judge who presides over your divorce case just so happens to be a guest at your wedding to your office tramp with whom you cheated on your first wife for almost three years. I guess it's only fair to invite the judge after all. He was so helpful, looking the other way, while you robbed your first wife of her marital assets so that you could legally screw her out of what's rightfully hers when you finally got around to dumping the poor sad bitch. Yet, on this anniversary of her crimes, I'm angry with Betty because she didn't think enough of herself and her womanhood to realize that she didn't need Dan Broderick or his money. I'm angry with Betty that she didn't love her children enough to realize that they were the victims in the vicious divorce, and that her behavior greatly increased their suffering, up to and including the moments where she pulled the trigger. I'm angry with Betty for failing to see that the ultimate revenge against two people like Dan and Linda Kolkena Broderick is to make them absolutely irrelevant in your life. You don't accomplish this with a gun. You accomplish this by refusing to play their games, by being the bigger person and knowing when to walk away.
By refusing to be their pawn any longer.
By realizing that she was giving them total control over her life every single time she took their bait. Instead, she gave them total control over her life. She allowed it to happen. She allowed it right up until the moment when she shot and killed them both in their marital bed. I'm angry with Betty for failing to see that she had so many more options than that.
That she always did, even when she felt like nothing after years of abuse at the hands of Dan and Linda Broderick, both in the legal system and out. When she felt like she was lower than low after years of their petty antics, yet another fat and wrinkle cream ad sent "anonymously" to Betty by Linda Kolkena. When Linda sent Betty a photo of Dan posing with Linda at some legal function, with the scrawled caption, Eat your heart out, bitch!, Betty took those words to heart, and did.
It didn't have to be that way. Betty is not a stupid woman, but for some reason, she was never able to see that.
Ultimately, she freed herself from her tormentors, but in doing so, she just exchanged one kind of jail for another. Both were of her own making. It would have been so much better if Betty dried her eyes, realized that Dan wasn't coming back, and then focused her life and her energies on making something for herself, instead of obsessing about Linda taking what used to be hers.
After all, Linda Kolkena was used to taking Betty's sloppy seconds. In fact, Linda's entire life with Dan Broderick was pretty much Betty's sloppy seconds...right down to Betty's wedding china, which Linda Kolkena refused to allow Betty to have, even after the Broderick divorce went through, even after Linda Kolkena had ordered new wedding china for her marriage to Dan.
Here's a thinker: the needlepoint cover on the bed in which Dan and Linda were murdered was purchased by Betty, early in her marriage to Dan. One must ask: was the blanket so beautiful that Dan Broderick simply had to keep it, even have it on the bed you used to screw your second wife? Creepy. Not to mention tacky.
I always thought that Betty should have gone to law school. She was basically raped by the San Diego legal system and every attorney involved in it. What better way to beat them at their own game than becoming one of them? Can you imagine what Dan and Linda Broderick would have said about that? It would have eaten them both alive. There were a million things that Betty could have chosen to do. Instead, she engaged in the most self-destructive behavior possible, providing both Dan and Linda with ample material with which to victimize her. Incredibly, Betty left many terrible messages on Dan Broderick's answering machine, when she would call about picking up the children. It just so happened that the airy voice of Linda Kolkena Broderick was on the outgoing message, stating that "we cannot take your call." Betty wasn't a big enough person to let things like that go. She took their bait every single time, as Dan and Linda knew she would. That's why they did it in the first place. "This message is for Fuckhead and The Cunt," is a direct quote from one of Betty's expletive-filled calls.
Dan left Betty for what was basically a younger version of herself. The physical similarities between Betty Broderick and Linda Kolkena are shocking. Both were beautiful blonde women with svelte figures. At the time of Dan's departure from their marriage, Betty was as close to perfect as a woman could get. She was easily one of the most attractive women in La Jolla society.
Understandably, when Dan dumped her for Linda, her vanity was attacked. She was humiliated and embarrassed. Did Betty resolve to maintain her unbelievable good looks, have enough of a sense of self-worth to realize that it was Dan's loss, and to realize that she, Betty, could find any number of men willing to marry her? No. Instead, Betty stopped taking care of herself. She overate and gained a lot of weight. She was pudgy and puffy and usually looked like a mess. This only intensified her envy of Linda, who now had Dan's entire wallet to spend in order to look her absolute best. Betty didn't have to do that. She didn't have to do any of it. She could have chosen to ignore them. She never had to hand them both her power. Instead, she chose to end three lives in the early morning hours of November 5, 1989. She fired the shots that murdered Linda Broderick and Dan Broderick, but as soon as she did, Betty Broderick ceased to exist, too. I don't shed any tears about Dan and Linda Broderick. The world needs fewer sleazebag attorneys, it seems. It certainly could use fewer raging alcoholics with obnoxious fellow alcoholic friends who have predilections for quoting The Blues Brothers ad nauseum, which was apparently a cherished past time of Dan Broderick's. (How original.)
As for Linda Kolkena Broderick, she was a disgrace to every person who has ever worked hard for their money, to every woman who used their brains and their talents, other than sexual, to get ahead in a man's world. As a paralegal myself who holds a degree from Purdue University and who graduated at the top of my class and who paid for every dime of her university education herself, I especially bristle at when Linda Kolkena Broderick is referred to as a "legal assistant" or "paralegal." Being the office hoer and cheerleader to your partner in infidelity does not a legal assistant make.
The end of Betty Broderick, however, is a crying shame. What might have been, had Betty decided to rise above their pettiness and cruelty and realized that happiness is your own to make? The truly sad part is that I believe that, had they lived, there is no way that Dan and Linda Broderick would still be married. Have you ever heard Dr. Phil say, "If they'll do it with you, they'll do it to you?" Dan would have tired of Linda as she aged, much as he tired of Betty when she started to age. There is always another bimbo glossing her lips in the ladies room who is only too happy to take your man. Then again, Linda Kolkena Broderick was supposedly sleeping with her ex-boyfriends, namely a cartoonist named Steve Kelley, by all accounts a very nice man who truly loved Linda, around the time of her marriage to Dan. Linda was never the sharpest pencil in the box, with only a high school education, and her only talent seeming to be spreading her legs for other women's husbands. It would have caught up with her, eventually. Nope. Now Dan and Linda Broderick are rotting corpses, she buried in the wedding dress she wore only six months earlier. They are also martyrs because of the murders, and Betty is widely regarded as a nutcase, a pariah, a fool. I'll agree with that last one. She could have played it a million ways, found her own thing, and discovered that a man who thinks that he is enough for two women is always barely man enough for one. She could have gotten back at her tormentors by refusing to let them define her, manipulate her. Instead, she was their ultimate victim...by making them her victims.
Dan Broderick and Linda Kolkena
"Count du Money" and "Liebchen"
I guess The Count hadn't du Money to fix Liebchen's teeth just yet.
Don't get me wrong. I enjoy Convenient Meats as much as the next gal, especially in a party setting, as I am usually too shy to speak to anyone and wind up drowning my sorrows in several party-size platters of assorted cold cuts.
And I am willing to overlook the fact that Our Lovely Hostess has apparently chosen to go with a quasi-Polynesian theme for her Whores Devores (hors d'oeuvres). You just know those cherries came straight from a glorious syrupy jar, and the pineapple is courtesy of Dole!
I can't, however, overlook the hair. It fascinates me. The amount of engineering...not to mention hairspray...involved in this coiffure belongs in The Hairdo Hall Of Fame. If one exists. And if one doesn't, should I start one?
I haven't been around much lately. I've been really busy with actual writing work, and while I always mean to update this blog, it always seems to fall by the proverbial wayside.
Do you ever read Peter Frampton's Facebook page? If you don't, you should, as in, yesterday. He is a very funny, very droll individual. He writes about his music as well as other little tidbits from his life, such as going to the mall so he can browse at the Apple store.
Here's my favorite of his, a 1975 recording of "Doobie Wah."