Thursday, August 17, 2017


You've got to feel sorry for Melania Trump. Here she was, a poor immigrant from an
After careful consideration, Trump decides to make a
pass at his wife instead of his daughter.
Eastern European backwater, who only wanted to come to America and put her degree in Architecture & Design headshots to good use. Or, if that didn't pan out, find a rich husband to care for her, provide a crash pad for visiting relatives, and pay for the occasional tasteful plastic surgery. Becoming the First Lady of the Second Reich definitely wasn't on her dance card.

Like right out of DC on the first Metro.

And then there's poor Baron Trump. Not only was he saddled with a name literally out of a 19th-century children's book, it's likely the family business will be so damaged by the time he comes of age, he'll have to become a travel agent for Aeroflot. At least his dad has connections.

But what of the patriarch? Again, sympathy is required. Like many businessmen caught on the ladder of success, here's a guy who loves his title but hates his job. There's no doubt that, deep down, Donald Trump would love to go back to his 5th Avenue penthouse, where he can return to his favorite meal (well-done steak with ketchup) without it being headline news, and making self-depreciating appearances in movies.

On the other hand, here's proof that Trump's
inaugural really was the largest ever.
Did I say "businessman"? If so, it must be taken with a grain or two of (non-Kosher!) salt. For what kind of a guy with a business background keeps playing to 25% of the public rather than at least 51%? Of course, we're talking national polls. In Alabama, Trump's approval skyrockets to 85% of Republicans. That's pretty astonishing, when you consider the last time 85% of Alabamans approved of anyone, he was swinging from a noose. 

If you have to say not all Trump supporters are
Nazis, there might be something strange going on.
Nor does Trump appear to know history. Despite his protestations, rallies invoking the good ol' Nazi days tend not to draw "many fine people." If he is playing to his base, as is claimed, then we should use the first definition of the word: "the lowest part or edge of something." I half-expect Trump pull a Sgt. Schultz and bellow, "I know nothing, nothing!" 

People in Trump's inner circle (of hell) say that he won the election by going on his instincts, and continues to trust it. Perhaps he should change his slogan from "Make America Great Again" to "Trump: Putting the Stinks in Instincts."

At least Trump kept his promise to bring America together: everybody hates everybody
Coming soon to a TV near you.
else now. It's weirdly interesting, in fact, to watch the slow-motion coming of the second Civil War. Does anybody really find it shocking that Carl Bernstein reports many high-ranking folks in the military believe Donald Trump is unfit for the presidency

I've seen that movie before. It was called Seven Days in May. This might be the only time when people hope Burt Lancaster succeeds.


Monday, August 14, 2017


"We condemn in the strongest possible terms this egregious display of hatred, bigotry and violence, on many sides. On many sides. It's been going on for a long time in our country. Not Adolf Hitler, not Paul von Hindenburg. This has been going on for a long, long time."

"We condemn in the strongest possible terms this egregious display of hatred, bigotry and violence, on many sides. On many sides. It's been going on for a long time in our country. Not Josef Stalin, not Nikolai Lenin. This has been going on for a long, long time."

"We condemn in the strongest possible terms this egregious display of hatred, bigotry and violence, on many sides. On many sides. It's been going on for a long time in our country. Not Hugh L. Wright, not Fielding L. Wright. This has been going on for a long, long time."

"We condemn in the strongest possible terms this egregious display of hatred, bigotry and violence, on many sides. On many sides. It's been going on for a long time in our country. Not George Wallace, not John M. Patterson. This has been going on for a long, long time."

WORKERS, 1964:
"We condemn in the strongest possible terms this egregious display of hatred, bigotry and violence, on many sides. On many sides. It's been going on for a long time in our country. Not Ross Barnett, not James P. Coleman. This has been going on for a long, long time."

"We condemn in the strongest possible terms this egregious display of hatred, bigotry and violence, on many sides. On many sides. It's been going on for a long time in our country. Not Buford Ellington, not Frank G. Clement. This has been going on for a long, long time."

"We condemn in the strongest possible terms this egregious display of hatred, bigotry and violence, on many sides. On many sides. It's been going on for a long time in our country. Not Mao Tse-Tung, not Chiang Kai-shek. This has been going on for a long, long time."

"We condemn in the strongest possible terms this egregious display of hatred, bigotry and violence, on many sides. On many sides. It's been going on for a long time in our country. Not Osma bin-Laden, not Mohammed Najibullah. This has been going on for a long, long time."


Thursday, August 10, 2017


No matter the language, it all comes down to
What, her again?
Judging by the recent spate of TV specials and magazine pieces, it appears that Diana Frances Mountbatten-Windsor, aka Princess Diana, is ready to take her place alongside Marilyn Monroe and Jackie Bouvier Kennedy Onassis in the Dead Cover Girls Hall of Fame, an institution co-founded by Vanity Fair and People.

For reasons utterly unknown, these three women -- dead 20, 55, and 23 years respectively -- are still considered "fascinating" by editors who perhaps never heard of Marie Curie, Harriet Tubman, or even Hedy Lamarr (the Austrian-born actress who, during World War II, only invented Wi-Fi, for God's sakes.)

Why do magazines and TV news programs insist on going back to that increasingly moldy well? Got me. The only thing fascinating about Jackie is that, in the mid-70's, she dated Frank Sinatra -- her first husband's pimp. And by fascinating, I mean, Well, isn't it clear that whole Camelot thing was bullshit? And by the way, Jackie, we fought a revolution to make sure that we weren't ruled by royalty.

Jackie, you're so camera-shy!
Well, wait, there is one more fascinating thing -- that for all the hubbub regarding her becoming an editor in 1976, the most famous book was Michael Jackson's Moonwalk. Take a look at all her titles: how many have you read? How many have you heard of?
Let's go back further in time to discuss Marilyn Monroe, the woman who Jackie's first husband was screwing during their marriage.

Beautiful woman, no doubt, and a fine
In case you were wondering.
actress, but there's nothing inherently fascinating about that. Now, someone like ZaSu Pitts making movies continuously from 1917 to 1963 -- that's fascinating.

No, what cemented her as a Legend was her death (Suicide? Accidental overdose? Murder by Kennedys?) at the age of 36 -- as with Jim Morrison and Elvis Presley, her best career move. For it saved her from gradually becoming a latter-day Joan Blondell, a once-hot star-turned-frowsy character actor.

Can you imagine Marilyn Monroe in her 50s? Instead of being remembered in annual posthumous tributes, she'd have been washed-up when women like Diane Keaton, Meryl Streep, and Faye Dunaway were coming into their own. At best, you'd have heard announcers say "And special guest star, Marilyn Monroe" during the credits of Marcus Welby MD, Knots Landing, and Wonder Woman (and being compared unfavorably in the latter to star Lynda Carter). 

"Oh Rochester, could you make
yourself scarce for a while?"
You know what the really fascinating thing about Marilyn Monroe was? She once went to a nude beach with Jack Benny. And Jack was disguised with a phony beard (on his face, that is). I dare you not to picture that.

Which brings us to the self-proclaimed "Queen of People's Hearts" Princess Diana, the woman who Jackie's first husband would have screwed during their marriage if he lived long enough.

Unlike her sisters-in-death, at least Diana found a worthy cause -- the elimination of landmines -- where her name could do some good. A good mother, too, a job that will always rank above royalty.

Aaaannnnddd... that's about it. Like Jackie, married the wrong guy. (To further her questionable taste in men, she had a crush on John Travolta.) Like Marilyn, suicidal -- first time while pregnant with William! Maybe I should rethink that "good mom" business. 

You could open up a phone book and find hundreds of women more fascinating than this celebrity trio. Women who raise kids without the benefit of a nanny, work regular jobs, get by in life without flashbulbs going off every 10 seconds, and still find life worthwhile. My wife, for instance. Yours, too, I bet. 

Put it another way -- would you want to have been married to any of these women?

Well, ZaSu, maybe.


Tuesday, August 8, 2017


If it's 2017, it's time for Sinead O'Connor's biennial "Guess what, folks, I'm crazy and I'm gonna kill myself" Facebook video.
Once more, with feeling.

This is not to make fun of suicide or mental illness. No, I'm making fun of the washed-up, one-hit pop star-turned-priest-turned tattoo billboard, who hits musical notes like a Gaelic Yoko Ono with severe menstrual cramps.

Sinead pulled this stunt in 2015, claiming to have "taken an overdose" somewhere in Ireland. She was soon found "safe and sound " after blaming her behavior on her ex-husband and kids. Ever hear the cliché "rambling suicide note"? Click the above link; not even Wrong-Way Corrigan rambled this much.

At least it's sunnier than Ireland.
Her latest video comes from a Tavelodge in -- wait for it -- Hackensack, which she describes as "the arse of New Jersey". I resent that description. My mother-in-law lives there, and, having visited her many times through the years, can definitely say that Hackensack is more like the spleen. You don't know what it's good for, but you'd miss it if it were gone.

I give her credit, though, no one wears "mental illness" with a badge of pride like Sinead O'Connor. I mean there's clinically crazy, where you have a real brain disorder, and then there's "that chick's crazy" crazy. O'Connor, I believe, falls into the latter category. She's someone who decided to flip out one day when discovering that not everyone thought she was a genius. All of you made me the way I am! And by the way, buy my latest album.

That sound you hear is the flushing of a
career down the toilet.
You can trace the beginning of her downward spiral to her notorious 1992 appearance on Saturday Night Live, when she concluded an a cappella  performance of Bob Marley's "War" by tearing up a photo of Pope John Paul, urging the audience to "fight the real enemy". 

I watched that episode when it aired, and my reaction was identical to that of the studio audience -- a deathly silence that screamed What the fuck? If it really was meant as a protest against the Catholic Church's cover-up of priests sexually abusing children, as O'Connor later explained, she might have done better to hold up a photo of a cute kid and say, "Fight child abuse." Everybody can get behind that (except priests committing child abuse, and the superiors who protect them).

In that misguided instant, Sinead O'Connor went from "that bald lady whose only hit was two years ago" to pop pariah. Later that week, she was booed off the Madison Garden stage at an all-star Bob Dylan tribute concert before she had a chance to open her yap. Just how many people in the audience were genuinely offended while others were just sick of her publicity-hound antics is a matter of conjecture.

Looks like a pedophile priest to me.
But she definitely gave the latter plenty of ammo by becoming a priest. As reported by the New York Daily News, "The singer said she planned to administer sacraments, including last rites, and would wear a clerical shirt and a dog collar."

Yeah, that'll get people on your side. I hope that among those given the last rites was her chance of being taken seriously by 97% of the world's population.

From that point on, it's been nothing but the occasional flop album, freak shows disguised as concerts, and "this time I'm really gonna off myself" videos. In her latest one, O'Connor claims that her psychiatrist considers her his hero. Great, now she's got a shrink who needs a shrink. If this keeps up, we should see two people in the next video come 2019 from a Motel 6 in Peoria.


Friday, July 28, 2017


Scaramucci, why
Must I say goodbye?
Each time I leak,
I start to get high!

I'm not such a chump,
I'm just helping Trump.
I'm praising him
When I'm on Fox News!

Scaramucci, why?
Scaramucci, why?
Scaramucci, why?
Scaramucci, why?

Scaramucci, look --
Don't give me the hook.
I'm chief of staff
Not some stupid mook.

Tony, hear my plea,
Please don't make me flee
I'm praising Trump 
When I'm on Fox News!

Scaramucci, why?

Scaramucci, why?

Scaramucci, why?
Scaramucci, why?

Each time I leak,
I start to get hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh!

Tony, let me be
A White House entity
I'll praise you, too,
When I'm on Fox News!

Scaramucci, why?

Scaramucci, why?

Scaramucci, why?
Scaramucci, why?
Scaramucci, whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?


Thursday, July 27, 2017


It was a crisp, sunny November morning when I stepped out of the bus at the Tuxedo Club in Tuxedo Park, NY. I had arrived for my first "classy" role, one of a couple of hundred old-money swells attending a wedding. Up until now, the only old money I had ever been associated with were my collection of Indian-head pennies.

As the rest of the extras gathered inside the huge tent outside the club, I glanced around at the others who'd arrived earlier. As one of my colleagues pointed out, the production hired what were essentially the all-stars in the extra field.

Two months into this gig, and I was already accepted into ranks of the greats. Or they just needed as many people as possible to fill out the scene.

I had no idea what Friends from College was, or who the stars were. It wasn't until the P.A. gave us a quick rundown of what to expect in the first scene and started mentioning the cast that I had an idea: Seth Rogen, Keegan-Michael Key, Fred Savage... Hey! I know who those people are! 

Reminds me of the reform school.
Now this was getting really interesting, especially when we were ushered inside for our first scene. The Tuxedo Club is the kind of place where TV shows want to feature a place like the Tuxedo Club, know what I mean?

Forget about Platinum, you need an Iridium Amex Card to get into this joint. If you ever have a chance to attend a wedding at the Tuxedo Club, by all means go. Of course, you need a multi-millionaire friend or relative, but that shouldn't be too difficult to find.

It took only five minutes to shoot the scene, featuring a conga line snaking through the endless dining room while the rest of us grooved from the sidelines. Fortunately, I was so far away from the camera, my bad grooving would be invisible to the audience. What made up for my non-screen appearance, however, was walking past Seth Rogen, talking to whom I presumed to be the director, as we were ushered outside afterwards. For anyone interested, he looks and sounds like he does onscreen, which shouldn't be much of a shock.

Eight hours later, we were called back for more of the post-wedding party. Again, the camera and I weren't exactly the tightest of friends. It wasn't until the final shot, a few hours later, that I finally had my moment.

The party was now winding down, the remaining guests either dancing to the final
number or finishing dessert. As I described my dancing skills already, you know what I was picked for. Another extra and I were placed a table several feet across from another featuring the stars.

It wasn't until episode 6 of Friends from College became available a week or two ago on Netflix that I discovered I had a juicy shot -- front and left, and at the very beginning of the scene, being offered coffee by a server. 

For the first time, you couldn't miss me. Finally I was in a scene where former friends could ask with unmitigated jealousy, "Hey, what the hell is Kevin doing on TV?!" Eating a slice of cake, that's what.

I was happy to accept my server's offer for a cup of coffee, if only to perk me up (by now, I had been there close to 15 hours and was on the verge of narcolepsy). Pro that I am, however, you couldn't tell I discovered too late that it was cold. Oof!

I can be glimpsed in the background during the rest of the scene, a blurry figure eating cake and chatting with my tablemate. It wasn't until the very end that I was closer to the camera once more, sticking a fork in my mouth. Now I know why the Queen isn't allowed to be photographed while eating.

All in all, a lovely wedding. I just had no idea who got married. But the cake was good.


Monday, July 17, 2017


Playing less like a movie and more like a long episode of The Twilight Zone with better cinematography, Ladybug Ladybug was one of many high-anxiety movies of the '50s and early '60s tackling the possibility of nuclear war -- Dr. Strangelove, Fail-Safe, Panic in the Year Zero!, On the Beach, etc.

The difference here is that Ladybug Ladybug focuses on the effect that nukes has on children. As if they really matter.

"Y" is for "Yes, your ass is cooked."

The classes at a rural elementary school are  rudely interrupted one morning by the ugly sound of an air raid buzzer. When it doesn't appear to be a drill -- and nobody can get through the authorities to glean the veracity of the warning -- the principal reluctantly orders the schoolkids to go home. Let's see... school -- or possible annihilation? What to choose?

While many travel on a bus, the rest are walked home, in two different groups, by their teachers. They need to arrive within an hour before the bombs are likely to drop. Now you tell us!
Don't get too comfortable, kids.

Their journey -- played out more or less in real time -- explores the kids' reaction to what initially seems like just a strange drill. Moments of peace are fleeting -- a boy named Gary reassuring his younger brother while finding a connection with a girl, Jill, he never spoke to before -- as fear and paranoia spreads among the rest. Girls in my school were filled with fear and paranoia when I spoke to them.

Well, this doesn't look encouraging.
Each kid arrives home hoping for some kind of solace, but finds only parents too busy to calm them, grandparents on the verge of dementia, or empty houses. The hard-headed Harriet invites the remaining kids to join her in her family's bomb shelter while she waits for her parents to arrive. Party!

Harriet the Autocrat.
Well, not exactly. Instead of feeling safer, the kids feel their angst shoot up to 11 when Harriet starts barking out orders like martinet (or, being a girl, would that make her a martinette?). Apparently brainwashed by her equally-dominant parents, she quickly hands out schedules to eat, drink, and sleep -- no questions allowed. Did I call her a martinet? Make that a wife.

Harriet soon shows her true colors when Jill, having returned to an empty house, tries desperately to join the others in the shelter. Explaining that there won't be
No room at the nuclear inn.
enough room, Harriet refuses to let the distraught girl inside. Moments later, Gary tries to find Jill, not realizing that, in trying to find her own safe space, she has literally sealed her own doom. The other kids are left to panic on their own.

But guess what -- nobody realizes is that the air raid warning was an accident. Hah! Joke's on them!

From Ladybug Ladybug's opening moments -- a freeze frame of a hand holding a stopwatch, stark credits accompanied by a simple flute and harp score -- we know we're watching an "important" early '60s drama. In keeping with the mood, much of the dialogue is a little overripe for schoolkids, while most of the adults are ineffectual at best, and uncaring at worst. And the freeze frame on Gary in its closing seconds, while probably chillingly effective at the time, further dates the movie.

However, props must be given to the writing/directing team of Frank and Eleanor Perry for making kids, rather than politicians or generals, the stars of Ladybug Ladybug. Also nice is the ambiguous climax where, despite the earlier explanation of a short circuit, it's unclear whether the sounds of planes approaching and bombs dropping are real or a figure of Gary's fearful, overworked imagination.

And what would an early '60s movies be without soon-to-be famous actors -- in this case, William Daniels, Nancy Marchand and Estelle Parsons. Coincidence alert: Jill, the doomed girl, describes herself as a soprano, while her teacher, Marchand, played the matriarch on The Sopranos! What do I win?

Movies like Ladybug Ladybug have to be seen in the context of their time. Everything is hit on the nose a little too hard; there's a definite feeling of wanting to get across an idea that had never been before expressed cinematically. Yet these detriments accurately evoke the era (both in terms of cinema and life itself) for today's audiences too young to have experienced it, and revives it for those of us who are, shall we say, somewhat evergreen in our years.

Yes, there was a time when fear could be gotten across in a simple, two-instrument score, no special effects, and in black and white. Audiences in 1963 would have found Ladybug Ladybug far scarier than any Transformers movie. And considering what's happening in the world today, so should we.


Friday, July 14, 2017


Stephen Orlac, a patient and spokesman for the group, told reporters, "We believe this to be the best treatment for people like us with this condition. No, it isn't. Yes, it is! No, it isn't, you stupid bastard! Yes, it is, you whiney son of a bitch! No, it isn't, and why don't you just throw yourself off a bridge!"

They next to plan to store the video into Chris Christie's DNA in order to see it in IMAX.

In a subsequent poll, an overwhelming number of wives said, "We'll stick with plastic surgery, thank you."

Doctors noticed an immediate upswing in men showing concern about saving the lives of their girlfriends and wives.

Local police reported their switchboard overloaded with calls from wives requesting the brand name of the couch.


Thursday, July 13, 2017



DONALD TRUMP, JR., sitting on a couch, browses through a photo album, a look of concern crossing his face. His wife VANESSA sits beside him, lovingly rubbing his back. We hear:

VANESSA (v.o.): It started when my husband was looking through pictures of his friends and colleagues -- and didn't seem to remember who they were.

C.U. on photo album: Photos of Natalia Veselnitskaya, Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov, and Ambassador Sergey Kislyak.

Trump, Jr. looks at Vanessa with an expression that reads: Who are these people?

CUT TO: JARED KUSHNER, at his desk, filling out an official document, while IVANKA TRUMP looks over his shoulder. Like Vanessa, she appears concerned. We hear:

IVANKA (v.o.): My husband was always a stickler for details. So we knew there was a problem when my husband was forgetting to fill out important documents correctly.

C.U. on security clearance documents. Questions regarding Kushner meeting with any foreign officials are blank.

CUT TO: Montage of Trump, Jr. and Kushner with their wives in various homey situations: walking through the White House, standing on the White House south portico, sitting on benches in the park, etc., always trying to put on a brave face, as we hear:

NARRATOR (warm, caring): When a loved one is diagnosed with Russian Dementia, it can seem that all hope is lost. But now there's Leakxium. Leakxium is a new treatment that has shown to restore memory in those affected.

CUT TO: Montage of the couples as Trump, Jr. now happily recognizes the photos, and Kushner chuckles at the absurdity of leaving the government documents blank. CUT TO: Vanessa, now smiling at the camera.

VANESSA: After only three daily doses of Leakxium, my husband was able to recognize everyone he had forgotten meeting.

CUT TO: Ivanka, also smiling.

IVANKA: Leakxium brought back the memories that my husband believed were lost forever.

CUT TO: Further montages of the happy couples resuming a normal life, as we hear:

NARRATOR (v.o.): Possible side effects of Leakxium include public ridicule, perjury charges, and jail time. If you suffer any of these reactions, call your lawyer at once.

CUT TO: Vanessa and Ivanka.

VANESSA: With Leakxium, my husband's memory has been restored to its best condition since the summer of 2016.

IVANKA: If you, or any of your loved ones, have Russian Dementia, Leakxium is the treatment for them. Just make sure they're ready for the blowback.

C.U.: Bottle of Leakxium.

NARRATOR (v.o.): Ask your advisor if Leakxium is right for you. Leakxium -- from Deep State Pharmaceuticals.


Friday, July 7, 2017


July 6, 1957: John is saved from the local constabulary
inviting him to the lockup.
At the risk of soiling my reputation as a Pulitzer Prize-winning historian (my book Things Have Always Been Bad and Are Getting Worse is now in its 5th printing), I neglected to note that yesterday, June 6, marked the 60th anniversary of John Lennon meeting Paul McCartney.

This would be, then, a good time not to ponder the Beatles' impact on the world. Instead, suppose what would have happened if, instead of watching John and his band the Quarrymen perform on the back of a flatbed truck at a church social, Paul said, "Eh, I think I'll go see Elvis in Loving You at the Odeon. That's a real rocker."

Only 15, and George already thinks he's better
than you.
For one thing, near the end of his life, John admitted that he would have wound up in jail had he never met Paul. Imagine the consequences: How would John ever had gotten his hands on high-grade acid and heroin? Would Ringo have become the greatest strip club drummer in the world? How would George have the chance to show his contempt for anyone who didn't share his beliefs? And how would Paul ever become the richest person in music?

But let's not focus just on the Beatles. The world itself would have been a far different place had John and Paul remained strangers. For instance:

Ed Sullivan would have been better known for plate-spinners, talking to an Italian mouse,
Circa 1960: Paul plants the idea of wearing
glasses in John's head.
and shoving Sergio Franchi down America's throat every other week.

Today's Beatle cover bands would be doing tribute shows to Jan & Dean.

The Rolling Stones would have remained a two-bit blues band, this depriving Mick Jagger from getting laid by 5,000 women. 

Brian Wilson never would have gone off his rocker trying to top Sgt. Pepper with Smile, and just continued writing songs about surfing and driving, to the relief of Mike Love

However, sensing an opening, Yoko Ono would have broken up Brian Wilson's marriage and the Beach Boys. Their first album together, the self-titled Ceramic Ono Band, would feature Brian screaming about his father Murry, Mike Love, and those striped shirts the Beach Boys had to wear in concert. Yoko's contribution would be limited to imitating a mental ward patient, and having Brian sign over his publishing rights.

Dr. Eugene Landy, in turn, would have lost his medical license for treating Gary Lewis' PTSD by denying him cheeseburgers.

Ready to take on the world -- and lay every girl in it.
While in concert, Frank Sinatra wouldn't have continued crediting "Something" to being composed by "Mr. Lennon and Mr. McCartney" until the end of his life.

The first line in George Martin's obituary would have been, "An obscure record producer, best known, if at all, for novelty records and working with British song stylist Matt Munro..."

"Shitty ancillary merchandise?
What shitty  ancillary

No one would have come up with the idea of backwards tapes, thus depriving the religious right of yet another cudgel to swing in order to raise money for their questionable lifestyles. 

The Electric Light Orchestra would have slavishly copied the Dave Clark 5.

An entire generation of kids never would have had the chance to make fools of themselves by wearing ratty Beatle wigs.

Despite John's best efforts, Paul still
recognizes him.
Without Paul as his target, John would have gotten his drunken ass kicked on a regular basis for slagging off the blokes at the neighborhood pub.

Without John as his foil, Paul would have released his first (and last) U.S Top 10 single "Yesterday", earning him guest spots on The Hollywood Palace, The Kraft Music Hall, and Jackie Gleason and His American Scene Magazine, before returning to the UK to host Music with McCartney, airing Saturday evenings for the next 50 years. Paul would later describe his time in the U.S. as "the most amazing week of my life."