Showing posts with label Jerry Lewis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jerry Lewis. Show all posts

Monday, October 21, 2013

Goodness, gracious, great balls of fail

Your daily 'Oops!'

Ooh la la!

The French would not have committed this doozy.

The Omaha World-Herald just did.

The case of The Nutty Webmaster began with a trip to the newspaper's archives to mark the 25th anniversary of the death of John Jones, a.k.a., Dr. San Guinary, the hilarious KMTV horror-movie host who was a local legend among untold thousands of a certain age who grew up in the Big O. So far, so good.

Then the World-Herald's webmeister waded into the deep end of the pop-culture pool. That's the end where you actually have to know something to avoid a lungful of heavily chlorinated water.

LIKE THE difference between Jerry Lewis, comedy star of stage, screen and Labor Day telethons, and Jerry Lee Lewis, noted for smokin' rock 'n' roll piano playin' and marrying teenage cousins. Glug.

Ze French, zey are not amused.

While I'm at it, one other thing. If this picture was taken during the Jerry Lewis Labor Day Telethon -- as it appears to have been -- that's not Jerry (not Lee) Lewis actually in Omaha at the fishbowl, it's a backdrop. Jerry would have been in Las Vegas . . . on the telethon.

No word on where The Killer would have been.

Thursday, August 04, 2011

And you'll always walk alone. . . .

Erasing the "Jerry" out of "Help Jerry's Kids" is a work in progress.

It took just a two-paragraph press release Wednesday evening to erase Jerry Lewis from both the Muscular Dystrophy Association and the
Jerry Lewis MDA Labor Day Telethon, but it seems the MDA website is going to take a while.

The browser-window title on the MDA home page now is a simple "Welcome to MDA | Muscular Dystrophy Association." Click on a subject header, though, and the comedy great still has top billing -- "Welcome to MDA | Muscular Dystrophy Association Helping Jerry's Kids."

IT'S LIKE going to the Facebook page of a dead friend. What was still is, a memory so close you can almost touch it . . . trapped, still past perfect in electronic amber, defying the present just as our heart denies the new equation of loss. The MDA telethon without Jerry Lewis? How can this be?

Four and a half decades of Labor Day telethons --
more than 60 years with MDA -- ended in four sentences, without even the previously announced fond farewell come September? Really?

Then again, looking at last fall's tea leaves, it was pretty clear he was getting the ol' heave-ho even then, wasn't it? As John Katsilometes wrote last October in the
Las Vegas Sun . . .
Jerry Lewis’ name has been synonymous with the “MDA Labor Day Telethon” for 45 years. Can we agree on this?

We can, until we scan a news release issued last week by the Muscular Dystrophy Association. Unexpectedly, the MDA has lopped a good measure of the telethon – 21½ hours, total. As a result, the 2011 telethon will run just six hours, which is a lot like shaving a marathon down to a 7K run and still calling it “a marathon.”

Even more startling was the wording of the MDA news release sent to media members last Wednesday. The words “Jerry Lewis,” were not to be found until the third of four pages in the release, and only after we read several lively quotes from MDA President Gerald C. Weinberg. We happen upon Jerry Lewis just once, under the headline: “Rich MDA Telethon History.”

"RICH MDA telethon history," they said. As in, "You're history, Jerry!"

Either there's a hell of a story here, or loyalty is more of a one-way street than even I thought. And I'm a confirmed cynic.

It couldn't have had anything to do with Jerry telling a little too much truth about the state of television today, could it? About perhaps making the wrong corporate enemies? About scaredy-cat professional fundraisers getting nervous about what the old man might say on live television during his last rodeo . . . which he didn't want to be his last rodeo?

Most likely there's a hell of a story here about loyalty being a one-way street. And about how Jerry's kids suddenly became orphans.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Roland the Crippled Wheelchair Gunner

My old man was not right!

My old man was not right! My old man was not right! My old man was not right! My old man was not right! My old man was not right! My old man was not right!

HE WAS talking crazy talk. My old man was not right!

I must keep repeating this. And this, from Monday's Washington Post, does not represent a trend:

D.C. police said they are searching for a gunman in a wheelchair who shot a woman in her right foot Monday, then fled before patrol cars arrived.

The attack occurred about 1 p.m., moments after the 47-year-old victim had stepped off a Metrobus in the 1200 block of H Street NE, said Capt. Mike Gottert.

The woman, whose wound was not life-threatening, told police that "she had some kind of verbal dispute with the guy two weeks ago," Gottert said. "She was riding the bus. She got off. He came up and shot her. Didn't say anything. Just shot her."
BUT IN CASE it does, please do what you can to placate our wheelchair-user population. Do kind things on their behalf. Help Jerry's Kids!

No, really. Help Jerry's Kids. The telethon's over, but so what?

The life you save may be your own.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Hell on wheels

To my old man, wheelchairs didn't bring forth visions of the disabled. They were just more stable platforms to shoot from.

I learned this the hard way.

Mrs. Favog and I hadn't been married but a few years when we became aware of my father's . . . uhhhhhh . . . eccentric views about those confined to chairs with two big wheels in back and a pair of little ones in the front. We were living in Baton Rouge at the time, and we were over to my folks' house for dinner.

IT WAS Labor Day. I know this because I recall that we were watching the Jerry Lewis Labor Day Telethon.

I made the mistake of asking whether they'd be making a donation to Jerry's Kids, fighting the good fight against muscular dystrophy.

Hell, no, said the old man.

Why was that?

He then launched into a diatribe about the crippled, wheelchairs and guns. Something about how the Wheelchair People were just itching to gun us all down.

I can picture it now: The cute little Muscular Dystrophy Association ambassador -- probably all of 11 years old -- was pissed as hell about his impending horrible death from a dread disease and, dammit, he was going to take as many people as he could with him.

Unfortunately for us, the wife and I did the rational thing when presented with the specter of Roland the Crippled Wheelchair Gunner. We laughed our asses off. But my old man wasn't joking.

I ought to have figured that he wasn't. The old man almost never joked.

WHAT FOLLOWED was an angry diatribe by the old man -- aimed at his uppity son and his g**damn Yankee wife. Somewhere in there was the memorable phrase, "I might not have book learnin', but I got common sense."

That phrase spoke volumes, actually. It needed to. What followed from the old man was about a month's worth of silence -- and not just on the subject of wheelchairs and guns.

The old man is long dead now, but the whack genius of Psycho Gunners on Wheels lives on in Favogian lore. After all, you just can't get anymore insane than. . . .

Ohhhhhhhhh . . . CRAP:
This shooter had an unconventional mode of transportation.

Shortly after 1:30 a.m. Wednesday, police responded to a call about a person who was down in the street near 69th and Maple Streets. Officers found Patrick Amburn, 40, of Glenwood, Iowa, who told them that he had been shot by a man in a wheelchair.

Amburn was taken to the Nebraska Medical Center with a gunshot wound to his back. His injuries did not appear to be life-threatening, police said.
THANKS, Omaha World-Herald. I can hear the old man going "HEH HEH HEHHHHHHHHHH!" all the way from Roselawn Cemetery in Baton Rouge, La.

The cops had better haul in Jerry Lewis for questioning. He probably knows the assailant.