THE LATE, GREAT SCOTT

Four down, three to go.

 Well, that was fast.

It could very well be that Scott Pelley wanted no part of the new regime at CBS News, and was aware his colleagues at 60 Minutes were afraid of the new direction (downhill) it was being taken.

Therefore, he decided to take one for the team, knowing it would likely cost him his job, while hoping to draw further attention to destruction of the legendary news franchise. 

There was a little meeting following the now-legendary throwdown between new 60 Minutes producer Nick "Slender Qualifications" Bilton and Pelley at the staff meeting. In addition to the two men, Bari Weiss and CBS president Tom Cirbrowski were on hand to iron things out. 

Pelley, for his part, asked Weiss why former executive producer Tanya Simon and on-air correspondents Sharyn Alfonsi and Cecelia Vega had gotten the sack. As Pelley described it later, she refused to answer; her manner “was cold and callous and beneath the dignity of CBS News.” Not when CBS is run by a father and son tag team doing business with Donald Trump, it isn't! 

"You can fit all of my network news experience
in my hands!"

Details were provided to the New York Times by "three people with knowledge" of the meeting. My money says their names are Pelley, Weiss, and Bilton. I can picture Weiss putting the call on speakerphone, allowing her to flap her hands around as she seems to do in every photo of her in conversation. 

Scott Pelley, like his former network colleague Stephen Colbert, will probably have a better gig lined up elsewhere. Somewhere management won't force him to “inject falsehoods and bias into a politically sensitive story,” as he claims the current crew running 60 Minutes tried to do. 

Some cable or streaming platform could create a series -- let's call it Seven Days with Scott Pelley. He would be surrounded by hungry young reporters creating hard-hitting stories every week with no interference from management, while Pelley himself remains at the anchor desk for serious, one-on-one interviews with important newsmakers. The guy's pushing 70, y'know? Let others do the travelling while he stays in New York.

Or... forget cable! Just do the interviews on a weekly podcast, available on your laptop, smartphone, smart speaker, whatever you've got that's smart. Bari Weiss is always yakking about how networks are losing eyeballs to new media. Here's a chance to prove her right and cost her the job she was never qualified for!

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GREAT SCOTT!

 

Having signed an NDA, I'm skittish about naming
the employer, so here's a 1938 photo of the
block where I worked. Good luck figuring it out.

My previous, long-time employer had the occasional staff meeting, which consisted of one of the execs telling us what the company expected from us. Following her gentle harangues, she would ask if there were any comments. There rarely if ever were.

Over time, I decided to take her up on her offer, which shocked her for two reasons: 1) I tended to keep my yap shut, and 2) I told her that management had no idea what our jobs entailed and that the allegedly jimdandy software they forced on us was always crashing, wiping out weeks of work, and, in general, making our lives miserable. 

And because nothing ever changed, it was my same comment every time. After each meeting, co-workers -- many of whom I had never talked to before -- quietly thanked me for speaking up on their behalf. And many repeated their thanks on the day I was shown the door. 

The real-life Superman.

I was reminded of my one-man rebellion when Scott Pelley tore into his new boss Nick Bilton at a staff meeting like a starving man at a Thanksgiving meal. 

Without couching any of his remarks behind gentle "concerns", Pelley questioned the qualifications of the new guard at CBS News. He added that Bilton's boss, Bari Weiss, was out to "murder" 60 Minutes.

What could Bilton say in response to Pelley -- winner of 48 Emmys and three Peabody Awards for news reporting -- other than "I’m very excited to meet with everyone, yourself included” and "Enjoy the bagels". Oh, and "The show is going to stay exactly as it is FOR NOW" (emphasis added to drive it home). 

Three down, four to go.

You'd think television's #1 rated news program (averaging 9.1 million viewers, peaking at 14 million last November) which has seen a 5% increase in viewers 25-54 would stay exactly as it is forever. But not when Bari Weiss (under the guidance of Davd Ellison and Donald Trump) is calling the shots.

Last week, Weiss lived up to the cliche that women hate female competition in the workplace by firing three of them last week: executive producer Tanya Simon and correspondents Cecilia Vega and Sharyn Alfonsi. They join Anderson Cooper, who left on his volition after seeing the Trump handwriting on the wall. Little wonder the higher-ups at CBS kept her away from the meeting "citing the staff’s ill feelings surrounding the firings". Yeah, that's the kind of person you want running the news division!

David Ellison and Bari Weiss: the news
equivalent of the pimp and his wifey.

Scott Pelley is in the enviable position of having his boss over a barrel. If he's fired, the 60 Minutes viewers will leave in droves. Which is perhaps the idea, especially if rumors concerning the hiring of professional meathead Joe Rogan are true. 

If Weiss grits her teeth and keeps Pelley onboard, his presence will be a constant reminder that not only does he loathe her, she'll know, deep down in her icy heart, he is correct that she has "no qualifications" for her job. Outside of being really good at selling herself to the highest bidder, I mean. 

For all of Weiss' alleged intellect, she's just another moron who, like other Trump minions, believes that she's the genius who's cracked the code on how to keep her job. Just wait 'til she realizes that she was really was hired to whack 60 Minutes. 

The clock is ticking on Bari Weiss'
career at CBS.

As the ratings drop, "CBS insiders" will tell friendly reporters at the New York Times that Weiss's job is on "shaky ground", while those same backstabbers will claim to the Wall Street Journal, "Nothing could be further than the truth. We believe Bari is doing a wonderful job and stand by her."  Meaning, We give her three weeks, tops. 

In the end, Bari's golden parachute will soften the fall, even as she becomes toxic to any journalistic enterprise outside of Newsmax. That would make a heck of a story for Scott Pelley to cover.

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EXPENSIVE ADVICE TO THE LOVELORN

What's breaking is the bank
once Jordan marries hm.

Whenever I'm feeling a little too good about myself, I make sure to read a few
statistics to even things out. These usually involve relationships, such as the latest that claims one in three women admitted they "settled" when choosing their husband. That doesn't apply to my wife, although I have only her word to go by. 

Ironically, the best way to pick myself up is to be happy I am married to my wife. Because if the singles scene is really as bad as it's made out to be for young men, give me old age any time. 

Guys are going online paying anywhere from $1,200 to $10,000 to "dating experts" like Dr. Orion Taraban to crack the code how to score with women. Their advice involves "status, confidence, appearance, and wealth". 

Mistake #1: giving this guy $1,200 to learn what
you already knew.

No kidding. Those are the things that have always been important. Plus, if you've got 10-grand to drop for that kind of advice, you definitely have the status and wealth aspects already tied up. 

As for confidence and appearance, all you need is a new suit and remembering that you can afford to overspend on information that the rest of us have known all our lives. My charge? Buy me a cup of coffee and we'll call it even.

If you saw the original, you'd
know why I wouldn't post it.

Then there's a site called Digital Black Belt which charges $300 a week to get you laid. Their services include "enhancing" your bio and making A.I. photos of yourself. 

By that measure, all I'd have to do is post the A.I.-enhanced selfie to the right and refer to myself as a "semi-retired actor and award-winning writer". Are the photo and C.V. accurate? Yes, but...

The $10,000 advisor, Michael Sartain, promises to help "build social circles of incredible women and elite men in just 30 days". To which I repeat, if you have that kind of scratch lying around, you probably don't need this "former nightclub manager" to get you rich friends. And if you don't have that dough, believe me, you won't make rich friends in 30 years.

I never dated any women who looked
like them, and thank God for it.

As for "incredible women", if the photos of Sartain like the one to the left are any indication, the only thing incredible about them is the amount of plastic surgery they've undergone. 

The most interesting tip comes from yet another expert who claims, "Women crave to see that you have the ability to leave them and walk away and not communicate."

I ran that past my wife just to see if it was true. Rather than giving me a yes or no, she asked of the source, "Wait, is that the asshole online?" She didn't name which specific asshole online, but it sounded like I should ignore him.

Since everybody else has the secret to dating success, I thought I'd put in my one-cent to desperate men:

• Have good hygiene.
• Skip going out for food and drinks for a few weeks and buy new clothes instead.
• Get a good cookbook -- women are impressed by guys who can make dinner themselves.
• Put away 10% of your salary in a high-yield savings account. 
• When on a first date, ask questions and let her do the talking. 

You're probably not going to find your alleged dream girl, but you just might find yourself "settling" for the real one. And by following my free advice, you'll find that you've saved the money you would have otherwise splurged online for a really nice engagement ring, no A.I. photo required.

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PETE'S ROSE

 When choosing a potential father for your baby, it's always good idea to find a guy with certain characteristics. These include:

• borderline personality disorder
• online suicide threats
• an addiction to cannabis that no amount of time in rehab has ever cured
• a history of intense relationships that flame-out within weeks
• a resemblance to a guy you would run away from if he didn't have eight million dollars in the bank

Made for each other.

At least that seems to be what Elsie Hewitt was thinking when she started dating Pete Davidson. 

Pete, of course, is best known for all the above, along with making an intergalactic fool of himself when he was briefly attached to Ariana Grande. (The only memorable thing about his eight years on Saturday Night Live was just how unmemorable they were.)

Elsie Hewitt is known for... well, really nothing until Pete knocked her up. Oh, she's done some modeling and acting and dated a couple of other vaguely familiar actors, the way most B-level semi-celebrities do until they "wish each other the best" or launch a multi-million-dollar lawsuit against them, as she did with Ryan Phillipe due to his alleged physical and drug abuse. Elsie is a "food influencer" as well, although it's unclear how one influences food to do anything other than go bad if kept out of the fridge too long.

Having gotten the hang of suing ex-boyfriends, Hewitt is threatening to do the same to Davidson. Oddly, drugs aren't involved. This time, it's all about the child support which she claims Davidson hasn't provided. Like Ryan Phillipe, Davidson denies the charges, adding that he's covering her entire lifestyle, including health insurance. If only he spent a fraction of that money on a decent stylist.

Any other guy who looked like that would have
"restraining order" all over him.

Let's take a glance at their relationship timeline. Pete 'n' Elsie started dating in March 2025. Their daughter, Scottie Rose, made her debut in December of that year. 

If you haven't done the math yet, that's exactly nine months from "Hi, I'm Pete, what's your name?" to "Your water is breaking? What does that mean?" 

During their relationship, they broke up and got back together a few times before officially calling it quits this month due to Davidson's "intense travel schedule" (to his dealer?).  

There's no way of knowing if the pregnancy fell under the category of "C'mon, what are the odds, right?" or deliberately planned by one of them. If it's the latter... well, Pete Davidson doesn't strike anybody as the type to "settle down". Not when attractive women are throwing themselves at him despite looking like a cross between a drug cartel hitman and a raccoon. 

By Scottie Rose's first birthday, Pete will be, as his PR team always says, "taking it one step at a time" with another good-looking woman, while Elsie will be sharing her baby food recipes with her one million followers. It's remarkable how far a pothead and a former Playboy model can go in life. And if you forget the condom, so much the better!

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AND THEN THERE WERE FOUR

 

Oh, no! After this week, only four middle-aged
white guys will tell the same jokes.

It's now the final week of The Late Show with Stephen Colbert. And there hasn't been such an open display of celebrity mourning since John Lennon's death. 

Me, I'm more concerned if my daughter's Master's Degree in Urban Planning will be considered useless in the near A.I. future than whether a guy who made $15 million per annum is going to survive.

Tom & Dick were cancelled for
your sins.

Colbert -- comfortably ensconced in his Montclair mansion -- will spend zero minutes worrying about where his next job is coming from, or how he will pay the mortgage or future medical bills.  Not when he and his son are writing the next Lord of the Rings movie. 

And certainly not when he'll have plenty of other offers, like maybe a podcast with a worldwide audience where he can say anything he wants. Gee, I sure wish the Smothers Brothers had those options when CBS gave them the heave-ho after just two-and-a-half years. (Thanks to Johnny Carson, every late-night host feels it's their right to sit at their desks longer than most marriages last. Certainly Johnny's, anyway.)

We're told that CBS cancelled Colbert for political reasons. What we don't hear as much is that he turned down a five-year renewal in 2023, opting instead for a three-year extension. 

Those three years have passed. Maybe I'm missing something, but it sounds like he got what he wanted. If those mourners at the Late Show funeral gave it a few minutes thought, they might come around to my belief that it was the best thing that could have happened to their hero. Colbert himself even told People magazine he wonders if CBS “saved my life” because “it takes a lot of bone marrow to do the show every day, and now I’ll be stepping down with enough time, enough energy to do other things that I want to do." 

Oh yeah, he's hurting.

Late-night TV is the video version of the Titanic. And rather than drowning in ice-cold water, Colbert gets to continue his voyage on another ship that will get him to his destination in one piece and leave him richer in the long run. We should all be so lucky when we lose our jobs. 

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THE EARLY SHOW, PT. 68

 Two features, two shorts, two dictatorships. You'll understand.

IRON MAN (1931): No, this isn't the pre-code version of the Marvel Universe franchise. And just because it was directed by Tod Browning doesn't make it a horror movie, either. Iron Man is simply a run of the mill boxing melodrama made interesting only by 20-year-old Jean Harlow as Rose, the no-good wife of boxer Kid Carson. After having left him during his lean years, Rose suddenly shows up when he becomes the champ. Kid's manager George knows the score and tries warning Kid that the missus is using him strictly as a gravy train -- and as a new client for her sleazy sidepiece named Lewis. 

I don't know what drew Browning to Iron Man, seeing that it was outside of his usual wheelhouse. In fact, the only reason I stuck with it was because I had just finished reading the novel on which it was based. It was actually impressive how the movie included all the main characters (although Kid Carson is named Coke Carson in the book) and successfully compressed the story into its runtime. Too, the actors -- Harlow, Lew Ayres as Carson, Robert Armstrong as George, and John Miljan as Lewis -- fit my vision of the lead characters. 

The problem comes with everything else. Tod Browning's direction is sluggish, with zero style differentiating it from anyone else's work. Acting veers between awkward and histrionic. On the written page the story in involving, while onscreen is depressing, made worse by current unrestored prints being more beat up than Kid Carson after his climatic fight. (The many splices shorten the run time from its original 73 minutes to 68.) At the final bell, Iron Man loses by decision (mine). For Lew Ayres completists only. And you know who you are,

BONUS POINTS: While I usually object to movies changing a novel's ending, the very brief tacked-on scene offering a glimmer of hope to Kid and George was welcome after such a dismal experience. 

ATTORNEY FOR THE DEFENSE (1932); The early '30s were lousy with legal movies
-- Counsellor-at-Law, State's Attorney, The Mouthpiece, For the Defense, Lawyer Man -- and those are just the ones with Warren William, John Barrymore, and William Powell. 

Columbia got into the act with Attorney for the Defense starring Edmund Lowe as former New York D.A. William Burton, who has been caring for the widow and son of an innocent man he sent to the hot squat. Paul, the now-college age son, is seduced by Burton's ex-sweetie Val in order to get her hands on evidence that would convict her current bf guilty of extortion. That same evening, Burton, having found Paul passed out in the presence of Val's dead body, tells the kid to hit the road, but sticks around at the crime scene in order to get arrested. Burton defends himself in one of those climactic courtroom scenes that are never as exciting as the real thing and would likely lead to a mistrial. 

Evelyn Brent is quite good as Val, the biggest jezebel since the real Jezebel and, at 36, was Hollywood's idea of a "middle-aged" well-dressed floozy. And what was likely a one-day shoot, Dwight Frye steals the opening scene as the innocent man put to death by Lowe. 

As with William, Barrymore, and Powell, Edmund Lowe is sophisticated, dressed to the nines -- maybe the tens -- even when he's sitting in the stir waiting for his trial. He also has the same crisp diction that gives his racy pre-code dialogue a real snap, especially when, early on, he catches Val with another man in her apartment. That Lowe has been forgotten is a crime itself, for he's the equal of the other three actors, making Attorney for the Defense a worthy addition to your next pre-code legal film festival.

BONUS POINTS: A lawyer named Abe Steiner trots out the usual Jewish tropes, even dropping the word "tsuris" while speaking to Burton's secretary. And in her own non-Jewish trope, she disgustedly wipes her face where he affectionately rubbed his hand. Yeesh.

RED REPUBLIC (1934): Back in the early days of the Depression, gullible people in the media tried to sell America on Russia's "worker's paradise" balderdash. Photographer Margaret Bourke-White did her bit by making the one-reel travelogue Red Republic. The color refers to the Communist flag, not the blood of the six-to-nine million people killed by Stalin. 

Red Republic starts innocently enough with a brief look at a village on the Caspian Sea, where camel-driving workers live in apartments outfitted with shower baths -- "and in Russia," the narrator adds, "shower baths stand for culture!" I thought running water stood for hygiene. Seems like you learn something new every day in the Motherland!

We then check out the oil fields. Whoever wrote the narration doesn't seem to understand the concept of irony when explaining that after taking over the fields from the rapacious Western countries, the Communist government had to hire Americans to build wells that actually worked. Same thing with the massive Dnieper Hydroelectric Station constructed under the supervision of "the same Col. Cooper who built the Hoover Dam". Seems like capitalism had its positives after all.

There are a few bits and pieces that sound good, such as how the government pays couples to get married, go to college, and help cover the cost of apartments with, of course, shower baths. The problem comes during the "workers parade" when we're told, "Russia is going onward and upwards at a steady pace." So were the show trials, executions, and government-created famines. But the women got to work side by side with men, so that made up for it.

BONUS POINTS: Rare footage of Stalin's mother, who, the narrator promises, is "proud of the tremendous things he is doing". Do I have to make another joke about government-sponsored killings?

TRAN UND HELLE (1940): And speaking of garrison states... Starting in 1939, newsreels from Germany's UFA studio featured an occasional segment featuring characters named Tran and Helle. Kind of a Deutsch Abbott & Costello, Tran was a chump forever listening to the Allies' propaganda or taking advantage of wartime challenges on the homefront, while sophisticated straightman Helle eventually put him on the straight and Nazi.

In this chapter, a well-lubricated Tran weeps about the French populace suffering under the Nazi jackboot. Downing his seventh cognac, he recounts all the wonderful things the alleged enemy had contributed to world culture. Helle patiently explains that the French were asking for it; if Hitler withdrew, France would only invade Germany like they always do. Tran sees the error of his ways and decides to hate the French after all. 

Just under six minutes long --twice the average length of these shorts -- this was one of the last Tran und Helle releases. Someone in the government must have realized that Tran was starting to make sense to most clear-thinking Germans. (In other shorts, Helle had to convince Tran it was a good thing Hitler lied to his citizens and made listening to the BBC punishable by two years in prison.) Moviegoers were probably wondering, too, if the war was such a great thing, why wasn't Helle gung-hoing to the frontlines instead of knocking back Lowenbraus with a supposed dolt who didn't know what he was talking about? If you ever want to understand what "unintended consequences" means, Tran und Helle is example nummer eins

BONUS POINTS: A year later, Ludwig Schmitz -- the former SS member who plays Tran -- was banned from movies for "unworthy behavior". As with the French, I'm sure he was asking for it.

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A MEDIOCRE BARI-TONE

And like CBS News, it used to be majestic.

 By now, the reputation of CBS News under the Ellison/Weiss regime can no longer be
compared to the Titanic. A better maritime choice would be the MV Wilhelm Gustloff, the German ship sunk by a Soviet U-boat in 1945. Of the 9,000-plus victims, most were innocent refugees who had done nothing to deserve their fate. 

Is it tasteless to compare the deaths of refugees to the firing of network employees? Aw hell, you don't know tasteless if you haven't been keeping up with the news CBS doesn't cover. The New York Times headline on the left says it all. 

If they were really interested in their much-vaunted "fairness", the new guard at CBS would have a party for AOC or Bernie Sanders. When even a half-wit pinhead jackass dumbbell like Ted Cruz says the FCC should keep out of the latest Jimmy Kimmel "controversy", you know the current administration is treating the Constitution as a doormat for its feces-stained shoes. (Too bad Ted doesn't include his and the GOP's responsibility in bringing us to where we are today.)

It became clear just how deep in the hole Weiss is for Trump during the
episode of 60 Minutes the day after the attempted shooting at the White House Correspondents Suck-Up Fest. 

You couldn't pay me to get even that close to
Trump.

The narcissist-in-chief replied to Norah O'Donnell's perfectly legitimate questions with personal insults, the kind one might expect from an ill-behaved teenager rather than the alleged leader of the free world (although today that honor belongs to the president of Ukraine). 

I understand why a pro like O'Donnell didn't call him out -- if asked, she'd have said she was "showing respect for the office", as if Trump were literally one of his buildings. But a good boss, especially one running a network's news division, might put out a press release. Something along the lines of, "Despite facing personal attacks, hostile responses, and a litany of obfuscation from the president, Norah O'Donnell pressed on, showing the kind of professionalism that has made CBS News a legend for almost a century." 

Instead... nothing. Weiss made time to "clap back" at George Clooney for a remark made about her ties to Trump. But anything about the verbal abuse hurled at one of the network's top reporters? Can't call out the guy who's really responsible for her new job! 

The staff must have missed the other part
of Trump's anatomy she kissed.

Every month since Weiss' hiring, the headline "CBS News Ratings Hit Historic Lows" has been seen as often as, well, "Trump's Polling Numbers Hit Historic Lows". How is it that the chairman of the FCC claims to be going after ABC for DEI hiring when Weiss is the most unqualified person in network television today?

Bari Weiss isn't the first person to sell-out for a cool job and jumbo salary, and she won't be the last. It's just funny that a smarty-pants graduate from Columbia University thinks that things would turn out differently for her. 

And after getting the heave-ho from Larry Ellison when she's no longer useful, maybe Weiss will recall a more important lesson that too few people have learned: Everything that Trump touches dies. All aboard the good ship Wilhelm Gustloff!

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AMERICA'S MANIAC

Former Mayor Rudy Nosferatu.

The news of Rudy Giuliani being hospitalized in "critical but stable condition" has
shocked many. When was the last time Giuliani considered stable? 

I don't think Rudy will be dead by the time you read this, anyway. That would require holy water and a wooden stake. 

For Rudy, that might be a more preferable outcome. His downfall from heroic "America's Mayor" to drunken "Trump Toady" is the stuff of opera on par with Otello or Pagliacci. The first involves political intrigue, the second, a buffoon. Both are fitting.

For anyone who lived in New York from the 1980s as I did, the difference between the Koch/Dinkins years and Rudy's two terms was something out of a classic Western: a new sheriff arrived to clean up a once-great, now lawless city. 

Rudy in his human form.

And when I say "clean up", I mean it literally. Sidewalks, subways, gutters were seemingly overnight cleared of trash, dogshit, and graffiti overnight. Where crime once ruled, order returned. Tourism rose along with new businesses big and small. 

Yes, Rudy could be arrogant, and certainly some cops felt like they were allowed to do whatever they wanted for the sake of "law and order". But overall, living in New York was something to be proud of, thanks to our new mayor. 

People felt safe for the first time in years, perhaps decades. Giuliani's leadership -- stoic, honest, compassionate -- got the city through the aftermath of 9/11, offering him a national platform no mayor had enjoyed since Fiorello LaGuardia. Unless you consider Ed Koch's "How'm I doin'?" routine a platform.

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Hell, I was ready to vote for Rudy for president in 2008. But by then, his New

York style of Republicanism -- pro-gun control, pro-gay rights, among other beliefs -- doomed him. His campaign of skipping the early primaries in hopes of sweeping Florida (apparently the home of all ex-New Yorkers) was an idea equaled only by Jay Leno's nightly 10:00 series.

Those seven years between 9/11 and Primary Day might as well have been a century. The day after losing Florida, Rudy called it quits. 

The only place Hillary and Rudy could smile
together was at Madame Tussaud's Wax Museum.

Rudy could have used his remaining years doing stuff all ex-politicians do. Penning his memoirs. Making speeches. Taking seven-figure, no-show "consulting" jobs. He'd likely have been a welcome presence on Saturday Night Live from time to time. And he always, always would have been introduced as "America's Mayor". Not a bad way to end a career if you think about it.

Only there was one thing Rudy Giuliani appeared to think about. Like his friend Donald Trump, he was consumed by revenge. First, for not being president. Second -- and this was far worse -- realizing his planned Senate run came to naught once Hillary Clinton entered the race. 

This is what selling your soul looks like.

I don't have to recount what happened afterwards, other than to describe it as

two decades of self-humiliation and immolation. To go into further detail would take a biographer on the level of Robert Caro. 

A simple Google Image search of "Rudy Giuliani" shows the steady decline into decrepit distemper. The image of "America's Mayor" walking with police at the rubble of the World Trade Center has been replaced by a pop-eyed maniac sweating cheap hair dye down his face while spreading nutty conspiracy theories. 

Critical? Yes. Stable? Not in a New York minute.

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THE GREAT ROCK & ROLL SWINDLE

Want to see eight acts? It'll set you back
$7.50 ($5.50 for the nosebleed seats).

 During the waning days of psychedelia, something called "The 1950's Rock and
Roll Revival" took hold. Acts that hadn't been on the charts in over a decade were suddenly touring America on the same bill.

Hippies wanting to relive their adolescent and teen years were now able to see their former favorites live, perhaps for the first time, providing relief from Vietnam, Richard Nixon, and The Lawrence Welk Show. 

Over 50 years later, the urge to go back to what are thought to be "a more innocent time" exists in later generations. And so, this coming September, Brooklyn welcomes the CBGB Festival. 

A black & white photo captures the ambience
better than color.

For those unfamiliar with the initials, CBGB was a small concert venue in Greenwich Village. Originally specializing in Country, Blue Grass, and Blues (hence, the name), by the mid to late 1970s, it had become the number one punk club in the city, legendary for its bathroom as much as the shows. 

l was there once circa 1982, dressed in my finest black clothing, to see Marshall Crenshaw. While I remember the show, I don't recall using the facilities, although that might be my brain blocking the memory. 

The name CBGB Festival is somewhat misleading. First, it's being held in Greenpoint, Brooklyn at Under the K Bridge Park. Second, the only acts who appeared at the original CBGB are Patti Smith, Bikini Kill, Agnostic Front, and Circle Jerks.

As for the Sex Pistols and Buzzcocks, what they have in common is that their current line-ups don't feature the original lead singers, making them something like the Beach Boys of punk. The other acts are comparatively new, such as Mannequin Pussy, Interpol, and Violet Grohl, the 20-year-old daughter of Foo Fighters frontman Dave Grohl. Nepo punk-wannabe baby! 

Do you think the original Sex Pistols
would have put up with "Punk Royalty"?

In other words, CBGB Festival is pretty much CBGB in logo only. Another difference is the price of admission. Tickets start at the "affordable" $99(!) for "Young Punks". The three other tiers top out up at $799 for what they refer to as the "Very Very Important" section for "Punk Royalty", which is rather oxymoronic if you ask me. Among the many goodies provided for the VVIP are "Flushable, air-conditioned restrooms", which the real CBGB patrons would have destroyed before the night was over. 

Music aside, what interests me the most is the inclusion of Morrissey. His British nationalist leanings have caught flack from the press both here and abroad (you can even find a list of "The Ten Greatest Songs Hating Morrissey"). The backstage interactions with the famously progressive Patti Smith should be interesting, if not outright hostile. 

Morrissey -- the inspiration for
Mannequin Pussy?

Another problem for some ticketholders is that Morrissey, a take-no-prisoners vegetarian, has long prohibited the serving of meat-based products at his concerts. Will he put the kibosh on kielbasa upon hitting the stage at CBGB Fest? If so, this would be the most genuinely punk move of the night. 

If you're wondering why CBGB Festival isn't happening at the club itself, the dump closed its greasy doors in 2006. Today, it's the home of the high-end clothier John Varvatos, who peddles something called the "Tom Petty Fringe Jacket" for $4,000. If you want to get an idea of the real CBGB, you'll have to visit the Punk Rock Museum in -- natcherly! -- Las Vegas. General admission will set you back $49.99. 

Coincidentally, I've got $49.99 that says two of the Very Very Important Punks in the $799 seats will be Jeff Bezos and the missus, torn jeans and all. And if Kash Patel shows up, the other VVIPs better be careful when he starts hitting the Budweiser. No telling what mischief he'll get up to. Suing the Atlantic for a quarter billion bucks -- so punk!

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