The Oppenheimer Report 10/26/09

I heard on the news the other day that comedian Milton Supmon, AKA Soupy Sales, had died, and that made me a little nostalgic. I am just old enough to remember watching his show when I was a little boy. Back in the dark ages of black and white television, Soupy made me laugh , the good old fashioned way, with cream pies in the face and puppets. I watched a lot of kid shows back then … Kukla, Fran, and Ollie … Sherrie Lewis, with that annoying sock puppet Lamb Chop … Howdy Doody … Uncle Milty. I watched a lot of T.V. in general, but the T.V. shows I remember most fondly are the local shows from Buffalo.

There was a local Buffalo children’s show called “Rocket Ship 7” and it was hosted by Channel 7 weatherman Dave Thomas, along with his sidekicks Promo the Robot and Mr. Beeper. Mr. Beeper went on to gain notoriety as a popular tool of drug lords. I watched Rocket Ship 7 every morning when I was a kid. I guess my imagination was better in those days. One day, my dad took me to the Channel 7 studio in Buffalo, because he had to do some community welfare thing on T.V., and he brought me along because he thought I might find the experience interesting. When we got there, the first thing I saw was the set where Rocket Ship 7 was taped. My bubble burst the moment I saw that set because, even as a little kid, I realized how cheesy it was. Promo the Robot was in fact just a refrigerator box spray painted silver with some coat buttons glued on. I think his mouth was made out of a cheese grater or something. It was awful; I have never trusted the reality of television since. Other local shows I remember include “The Commander Tom Show”, featuring yet another local weatherman, Tom Jolls. He was no Bob Keeshan (AKA Captain Kangaroo), but he was alright. I remember watching a show called “Dialing for Dollars”, which was basically a show which aired a movie, and after each commercial break, the host, Nolan Johannes, would call up some lucky person and ask them a question about the featured movie. If they were watching and knew the answer, they won the “jackpot”, which rose every time someone didn’t know the answer. The best (and most ridiculous) part about that show was the musical accompaniment by the Johnny and Jimmy Duo. One guy played the accordion and I think the other guy played the organ. It was horrible, polka-like music, and probably very popular in Buffalo. “Strikes, Spares, and Misses” was another one of my local favorites. That was a bowling show, hosted by Buffalo sportscaster Chuck Healy, and it featured only women bowlers (hence the Misses). The winner earned prizes like a refrigerator full of unnatural luncheon meats, courtesy of the local supermarket.

Other black and white T.V. shows I remember watching, which were not local include, in no particular chronological order: “Make room for Daddy” with Danny Kaye, “Father Knows Best”, “Hazel”, “Leave it to Beaver”, “Gomer Pyle USMC” “My Mother the Car”, “My Favorite Martian”, “Rawhide”, “The Rifleman”, “Gunsmoke”, “The Big Valley”, “I Dream of Genie”, “Car 54 Where Are You”, “The Patty Duke Show”, "The Twilight Zone", “Dragnet”, “The Red Skelton Show”, “The Jackie Gleason Show”, “The Jack Benny Show”, “The Ed Sullivan Show”, “The Addams Family”, and “The Munsters”, I’m sure there were more, but those are the ones I can summon up on a moment’s notice. Last night, I watched an episode of “Law & Order” with my mom, and it was about a rock star accused of murder. In one episode, the following subjects came up: drug abuse, child molestation, homosexuality, infidelity, and statutory rape. Soupy Sales would not have been amused. Television has changed.

Written By Jamie Oppenheimer c 2009 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 10-19-09

Indignation is the sentiment du jour… Last Thursday afternoon, as I took a break from the chinking, I turned on the T.V. in the kitchen and was presented with the latest as-it-happened catastrophe featured on CNN. It was the now infamous “balloon boy” story. Six year-old Falcon Heene was believed to have crawled into the experimental helium-filled Mylar weather balloon that his father had made, and set it afloat. Fears were that he was in the balloon when it took off. The media circus that ensued was unbelievable. There was constant video coverage of this balloon, which looked like a big tin foil mushroom, filmed as it blew through the sky at 7000 feet. This was the exclusive story on CNN for almost the entire day, even after it was discovered that the little boy was NOT in the balloon. Then, the focus became the search for his spattered remains on the ground, before it was learned that he had been hiding in his parent’s attic through the entire fiasco. Even before they discovered that the kid was safe, I thought this was an awful lot of national attention on what amounted to a local story. I mean, look at what’s going on in Pakistan and Afghanistan right now, or the eight hundred other worthy stories worldwide! The Colorado National Guard was called out, and police in several Colorado counties were chasing this unmanned balloon for miles from the ground. Would the little boy freeze to death at the high altitude? How strong IS Mylar? Balloon experts were assembled and interviewed. It was insane. I can’t imagine how much money was spent on this story but it was probably in the hundreds of thousands of dollars. As of Sunday, they’re still talking about it, and little Falcon and his family were by then making the media rounds. His father seems like a bit of a flake, especially after I saw some clips of his “performance” on the reality show “Wife Swap”. I have no idea whether this nonsense was just an unfortunate accident or a media stunt (the father is presently being charged with causing this hoax)), but it certainly seemed like a waste of airspace. CNN, the very network that gave this story “wings” now calls it “hot air journalism”. Hmm.

There’s a new movie coming out later this month called “Vampire’s Assistant” and I’ve come to the conclusion that vampires are the new dinosaurs. Remember when Spielberg made the first “Jurassic Park” movie and suddenly, every kid wanted to have a dinosaur? There were dinosaur shakes at McDonald’s, and dinosaur lunch boxes, dinosaur pencil cases, dinosaur-shaped pasta in soup – dinosaurs were everywhere. Even Barney got a pay raise, and he’s not even really a dinosaur … more of a fat, purple hippo. I got really sick of all the dinosaur crap. Now it’s vampires. Suddenly it’s hip to be a vampire. I remember when I was young and there was only one true vampire; his name was Bela Lugosi. Bela may have been a drug addict, but he was one scary Dracula, and I had many a nightmare after watching his films. These days, vampires are the subjects of Harlequin romances. They fall in love, they have feelings, they have integrity, and virtue (ugh!), and they look like Tom Cruise. I take that back, I just watched “Interview with a Vampire” again … the new vampires, like the ones in the HBO series “True Blood”, are BETTER looking than Tom Cruise. Does anybody remember that Werner Herzog film “Nosferatu the Vampyre”? Now that was one ugly ass vampire, and that’s what they should look like. They are the undead; they are vermin who suck the blood of the living for heaven’s sake; they are evil beings from the underworld, they sleep in coffins! They should not look like Zack Efron.

It’s been a frosty October up here in the Great White North, and it was below freezing every night last week. I think I’ll pull the retractable dock up this week, because boating season has decidedly ended. The chinking work on the house should be done in the next few days, and everything else will likely have to wait until Spring. Time to go sharpen the chainsaw, something I just learned how to do, so I can cut up some more firewood for the imminent winter. Watch for those vampire blood milk shakes at McDonald’s. And to the balloon family, and to the news organizations who covered this non event as ad nauseam, I offer this bit of advice: get a friggin’ life!

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2009 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 10/12/09

Last Thursday marked my 54th birthday and for the first time in a while I had a really good one. Shauna threw me a surprise 50th and that was a good memory, but for the past few years, on my birthday I have moped around complaining about the passage of time and my general stagnation relative thereto. October 8th, 2009 started with Happy Birthday banners all over the house. The carpenters gave me a couple of very cool tools for my cordless drill. The lighting guy finally showed up and fixed the glitches in the kitchen lighting, hopefully for the last time, reprogrammed the fancy computerized lighting control system in the bedroom, and also installed the exterior dark sky, low voltage lights which softly highlight the back of our house at night. That lighting does the house justice. I got a call from my mom, albeit because Shauna called her to remind her it was my birthday (she’s a bit foggy these days), but I got a call nonetheless. That was a bonus, as were calls from several other friends with whom I’ve lost touch. I spent most of the day cutting and splitting firewood, which I enjoy doing. There’s nothing like spending a little time with a chainsaw to purge the demons within. My birthday present to myself this year was an electric wood splitter, and that worked like a charm. Everyone told me the electric ones don’t work, but this Ryobi comes with a two year warranty, and so far I am impressed. I’ve got two years to break it. Finally, I ended the day with a couple of glasses of red wine – o.k., more than a couple – and Shauna and a friend took me to Huntsville for dinner. I even got a birthday ice cream sundae, compliments to the restaurant. Nothing says VIP like a complimentary dessert.

The one thing that is just now beginning to catch up with me and remind me that I am no longer the rebel without a clue I once fancied myself to be, is the gradual and widening separation between what I think my body can do and what my body can in fact do. Of course, in general, I’m a little stiffer these days than I used to be, but after the latest wood cutting session, I was a hurtin’ cowboy. Knock on firewood, so far I have avoided many of the crippling injuries my peers have sustained by ignoring their limitations or denying their waning co-ordination. I haven’t broken my leg on an ATV like one of my contemporaries recently did, or screwed up my back shoveling snow as another friend did. Nevertheless, I do finds that Ibuprofin has become my new best friend.

The weather has been, as the Irish say, desperate; very rainy, with temperatures hovering around the freezing mark. We’ve even had a bit of the white stuff, though thankfully none that stuck to the ground. We’re making good progress on the chinking, and we’re over halfway done. As always happens in the fall up here, I delude myself into thinking that there will be a few hot summer-like days before the onset of winter. I leave the boat at the dock, thinking we’ll have that last fall foliage cruise, which turns into, why-didn’t-I-take-the-boat-in-and-put-the-dock-up-when-it-wasn’t-cold-and-miserable …again?! As the Canadian geese point south in their triangles of exodus, and the wind begins to blow the trees bare on this the weekend of the Canadian Thanksgiving, I am surrounded by the things for which I have reason to give thanks: an almost finished house, the love of my friends and family, the comfort of knowing that at least for five or ten more years I can indulge in the delusion that I am still a young man … and oh yes, I give thanks for electric log splitters.

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2009 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 10/05/09

When I started coming up to Katrine, Ontario back in the early nineties, it was a fairly quiet summer community. Of late, there has been quite a lot of construction on our lake and on the big lake to the south. The nearby town of Burk’s Falls had a hardware store, a supermarket, a post office, a liquor store, a bar, a bank or two, and not much else. Highway 11, the north/south route from North Bay to Barrie and Toronto used to pass directly through Burk’s Falls, but it was subsequently diverted to circumnavigate the town. Because this diversion severely decreased the traffic through town, businesses suffered. Recently, we lived in that town for over a year during the construction of our new home, and the community didn’t seem to be doing all that well. There were probably half a dozen houses up for sale and the main street was dotted with “For Lease” signs. Well the times they are a changin’ and Burk’s Falls is experiencing a bit of a comeback. Last Monday marked the opening of a Tim Horton’s coffee shop on a lot across from the supermarket and directly across the main street from the police station (coincidence?). As anyone in Canada knows, where Tim Horton’s grows, so grows the community. One of our carpenters recently purchased a home in Burk’s Falls, and a few weeks ago, when I was driving into town for some groceries, I noticed that a traffic light was being installed at the intersection where the Tim Horton’s store is located. A traffic light in Burk’s Falls, now that’s a first! Long range plans call for a new, larger supermarket, a gas bar, and I understand there is even talk of a Canadian Tire store. Before you know it, we’ll have massage parlors, drug turf wars, and an airport. I am frothing in anticipation.

Over the past seventeen years, I have penned over 800 of these weekly reports, and it occurred to me to create some kind of anthology of the better ones I have written over the years, mixed in with accounts of what was happening in my personal life at the same time. My readership has increased substantially since I sent out the first “Hyman Report” to twelve people in January of 1992. Today, I’ll wager at least once a month, as many as twenty-four people read my work. This kind of spike can only be attributed to determination and hard work. Just like Burk’s Falls, I am developing. Most of you probably never read my earlier “work”; well, this is your chance. A book, you say? Is there a book deal … will there be book signings in fifty cities across North America and Europe? Hold on, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. While I’ll admit my life is arguably not all that interesting, there are a few anecdotes I can relay with which some of you may identify or even find entertaining. Most importantly, I think the reports themselves are an interesting if skewed take on the current events of the time. I will go out on a limb and say that, in some cases, they are even amusing. Now that I have opened the floodgates of my popularity by throwing my hat into the Facebook ring, fame and fortune are the next logical steps. Hopefully, this little exercise will be accomplished in three volumes, comprising the early, middle, and late years. Each volume should provide just enough reading pleasure for a week’s worth of reading sessions in the john and there are even a few surprises in store.

In the news last week … Letterman publicly revealed that a CBS producer had attempted to extort $2 Million from him over allegations he’d had sex with some of his Late Show employees. Letterman called his bluff and now, if convicted, Joe Halderman (any relation to the Watergate guy?) is facing 15 years in prison. You know, apart from the embarrassment factor, it’s not as if Letterman was presenting himself as a card carrying member of the Moral Majority, so what was this guy thinking? Typhoon Parma wallops the already beleaguered Philippines, lots of casualties in the latest Indonesian earthquakes, Rio wins the bid for the 2016 Olympics, and not since 1998 have so many banks failed in America. So far in 2009, 98 have gone under. I have put my money in a new bank, it’s called “The Bank of Serta”, and it comes with a free box spring.

Yours ‘til Niagara Falls.

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2009 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED