The Oppenheimer Report 6/1/10

This week I begin this report with a rant about banks. Lately, I have been astounded by all the little ways my Canadian bank has been sticking it to me. They’ve added lots of little hidden fees, they take two points off the posted exchange rate for the privilege of transferring money from my U.S. account to my Canadian account; more if I use a Canadian credit card to pay for something in the U.S., and as well, their holds on funds seem unreasonably long. Turnover at my bank is constant, and every time I try to establish a relationship with my “relationship manager” or whatever they call the representative at my branch assigned to assist me with my accounts, he or she leaves the bank and I am faced with the prospect of proving myself to another young face. License and identification please … and after fifteen years with the same bank, one hopes that one does not need to explain that one has been and continues to be a loyal customer. But on top of all of these petty inconveniences, we have just been faced with what appears to be a gross miscarriage of justice, and it is keeping me awake at night. Without going into great detail, an important document was ignored by a bank, authorizing someone in our family to act on another’s behalf. Because the document was executed by a failing member of our family, we don’t want to and should not need to have to get her sign the document again. For some reason, the bank is stonewalling us and I am getting the uncomfortable feeling they’ve crossed the line. You cannot believe how impossible they have been, and they are overtly denying the directions of someone who cannot at present speak for herself. My suspicion is that it is in the bank’s best interest to delay the execution of the document, and they are intentionally using their bureaucracy to keep it from happening. With all the other challenges facing us right now, we don’t have time or the energy to fight with a possibly corrupt bank manager in order to enforce the wishes of a failing member of our family. If we don’t fight this then another peripheral member of the family is free to manipulate the estate to his advantage. We have reason to believe he already has done so and we want to stop it. We are now faced with the complicated dilemma of trying to decide which is worse. The dying wishes of a family member are not being honored, but do we put her under undo stress to re-execute a document, or do we let another family member take advantage of her compromised position. I used to think that nonsense like this only happened in the movies, but it has become painfully clear now that it happens in real life as well. The more people I talk to, the more stories I hear about greedy family members scrambling for their cut of an estate. We don’t want this woman’s money - she can give it all to the SPCA for all we care - we just hate to see people get away with doing things which are so clearly wrong. For every Bernie Madoff who is caught, there seem to be two that don’t.




In the news last week it was reported that they had succeeded in plugging up that damaged BP oil well; there was even video showing that the gushing had stopped. Apparently the fix did not take, and now it may be August before the gushing oil can be diverted to another line. Things are heating up in the Middle East as Israel is condemned for raiding a ship carrying food and supplies ( and guns?) to Gaza. Obviously, both sides are trying to spin this one, but there is a lot of video footage of the incident and perhaps that will help sort out the truth. Gary “Different Strokes” Coleman croaked last week at the age of 42 and Dennis Hopper bit the bazooka as well. He was 74. I first saw Hopper play the drug-addled hippie biker in “Easy Rider” and that character really annoyed me, but I did like his over-the-top performance in David Lynch’s “Blue Velvet”. Lee DeWyze is new American Idol, and though I didn’t follow the competition as I have in past years, I did watch the season finale. I was impressed by the list of guest stars who performed. Perhaps because it marked the send off Simon Cowell who is leaving the show for good, they brought in some big guns (Joe Cocker, Bee Gees, Michael MacDonald, Alanis Morissette, Hall and Oates, Janet Jackson, and others) to perform with the idols. I still think Ryan Seabreeze is a hosehead, but that’s television. The Flyers play the Black Hawks for the Stanley Cup. At least it’s not one of those Western expansion teams again. I’ve hated Philly “Broad Street Bullies” ever since they defeated the Sabres for the Cup back in the 70’s, so I’m rooting for the Hawks. They’re up two games and favored to win. Tropical Storm Agnes walloped Central America, it snowed in Edmonton, there were floods in Winnipeg, forest fires are raging in Quebec, and it’s hot as hell here in parched Central Ontario. As hurricane season approaches, I wonder where all that oil in the Gulf will blow.



Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2010 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 5/25/10

Jasper, our Miniature Schnauzer, had some teeth removed last week, and anytime our dog is put under anesthesia, I worry about her. She came through the surgery just fine, and as I begin this week’s report she is lying on the couch semi-stoned as she comes down from the anesthesia. Right now she’s staring blankly at a throw pillow. The Schnauzer breed is notorious for dental problems, and while we did follow the breeder’s instructions regarding dental hygiene, apparently not well enough, Jasper got an infected tooth which in turn spread to other teeth,. That oversight on our part necessitated a large set of extractions. Have you ever tried to brush a dog’s teeth? It’s not so easy. Anyhow, it’s always something with pets, and veterinarians charge a LOT of money for their services. In Canada, vets can charge more than human doctors. Last summer one of our carpenters had a dog that contracted Lysteria, probably from drinking tainted water, and the bill for that little disaster came to around two thousand dollars. At least the dog survived! When we took our last Schaunzer to an eye doctor in Toronto, there was a woman there in the waiting room with a Pug. The dog had diabetes and had already had several eye surgeries. She was not a wealthy woman and had already spent over ten thousand bucks on that dog. If you’re not a dog person, you’d probably say, “how much for the needle?”, but as a dog lover, I understand how we become indelibly attached to our pets. I can’t understand how pet lovers can feel the same attachment for a cat, or a parakeet, or heaven forbid, a snake, but I accept that there are all kinds of animal lovers in the world. At least they love SOMETHING living. My friend in Buffalo has a black lab which I adore, and she got sick last week. You want to say “that’s what you get for eating dog poop,” but what’s the point … they never listen. My sister had a Golden Lab that turned out to be autistic. Another had hip dysplasia. I love Miniature Schnauzers because they have lots of personality and they are very smart. The breeder from whom we acquired Jasper is probably one of the best Miniature Schnauzer breeders in the country, and despite the dental problem, Jasper has so far been healthy (knock on wood). There are a lot of irresponsible breeders in the world, and our last Schnauzer, which came from a different breeder, was really sick for most of her life. It’s simply getting harder and harder to find good, healthy purebred dogs. As human beings we frown upon inbreeding, because, as we all know, if you inbreed, you end up having offspring who look like that banjo player in “Deliverance”. Why then is it O.K. to inbreed animals? Of course we also prohibit the practice of euthanasia in human beings, even though some would welcome the option of choosing to control their own demise. Just so we’re clear, I’m suggesting a “no” to the banjo player, but a “yes” to pulling the plug on Grampa, if he wants you to and is mentally capable of making that important decision.


Final comments … I just watched the SNL that Betty White hosted, which I had PVR’d (videotaping is so passe) , and it was one of the better ones I’ve seen of late. I can’t believe they got her to perform some of those off color skits they wrote for her, but she nailed them. One in particular, which was a spoof on boring public radio shows, was laced with not-so-subtle innuendo about a lady’s private parts. I guess once a comedienne, always a comedienne, and Betty White has always had a bit of an edge to her humor. Hope you’re not vacationing in Jamaica this week. Riots broke out in Kingston over plans to extradite drug kingpin Chris Coke (appropriate name) to the U.S. for prosecution. And the Deepwater Horizon rig is STILL spewing oil 40 miles off the Louisiana coast. We have now passed the month mark; the blowout occurred April 20th, 2010. I was wondering how the volume estimates could be so varied … on the one extreme BP, with their obvious inclination towards damage control, originally estimated that oil was spewing out at about 210,000 gallons per day. Now the  "experts” are suggesting that about 2- 4 MILLION gallons per day is closer to the truth. Yikes.



It’s now 8AM Tuesday morning, and I am waiting for the guy who did our stone work, to assist him in putting in a stone walkway down to the lake. I have to go now, because a groundhog is about to attack my tomato plants. Until next week …





Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2010 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 5/17/10

On my way back up north from Buffalo, I spent the night in Toronto and I gave a pint of blood at the local blood clinic in our building. When I lived in Buffalo I was a regular blood donor, but when I moved up to Toronto I stopped. Recent visits to the hospital, coupled with reports that there is a blood shortage in Canada prompted me to resume. I gave about four months ago, and when I was eligible to give again (usually about every 2 months), I started getting persistent phone calls reminding me that I was once again eligible to give. I had an hour last Thursday, so I called and made an appointment after which I asked them to please not call anymore.




I can’t say I enjoy giving blood, the process is somewhat tedious, and there are quite a few very personal questions to answer each time I give. Have I been outside the U.S. and Canada, have I had dental work recently, have I had sex with a man in the past six months, have I had sex with a woman who has had sex with a homosexual, have I ever had sex for money, have I ever dated a barnyard animal … I mean THAT is none of their business. I realize that they have to ask these questions to ensure that the blood supply is not tainted, but it’s a little strange nonetheless. Who do they think I am, anyway, some world traveling slut? And that cow … that was a one time thing. I can understand asking these questions once, then asking the donor to sign something each subsequent visit acknowledging that nothing had changed. The most absurd thing they do - and they did this in the States as well - is that they ask you to confidentially put a “yes” or a “no” stamp on your blood donation indicating whether or not you want it to be used. Why for heaven’s sake would I DONATE if I didn’t think my blood was safe and didn’t want the blood to be used. No, I want you to stick a needle in my arm and draw an eighth of a gallon of blood, just so you can throw it away. I’m only here for the cookies and juice. Once I’d been through the drill for the first time, it was fairly easy. Now I’ll go whenever I have a chance. I don’t do a lot for the community I live in, so I figure donating a pint of blood is the least I can do. I have a fairly common blood type; I wonder what is more valuable. If a lot of people give blood, I guess it’s the rarer blood types, but I’m not sure a lot of people do give. Other than the questionnaire, it really isn’t hard to do. It’s no more invasive than a blood test, it doesn’t really hurt, and the actual donation doesn’t take very long. Speaking of blood tests, the other day I read that Walgreen’s might soon put out a personal genetic testing kit. Does this mean we will soon be able to check paternity or maternity in the privacy of our own home?



Finally, the Deepwater Horizon disaster in the Gulf of Mexico is still very much a problem, and now they’re saying that this one will be much worse than the Exxon spill. The millions of gallons of crude presently spilling out into the Gulf is the consistency of cake batter, and it’s going to be a real mess to clean up. On 60 Minutes last night I watched a very disturbing segment suggesting that BP did not follow all the proper safety measures before allowing the rig to begin pumping. It made me angry to hear a BP spokesman blaming only Transocean, the owner of the rig, for the accident. I didn’t understand all the details, something to do with “mud” used to regulate oil flow from the pipeline, but it looks as if BP overlooked some serious problems in order to get up and running faster. Look at the results! BP is now in the hole for at least $500 Million, and the figure grows daily. Who knows what the environmental impact will be? What really surprised me is that there is apparently a much bigger rig in the Gulf, The Atlantis, which, if it were to fail, will make the Deepwater Horizon spill look like a raindrop. There is some concern that corners were cut in the construction of that rig as well. Perhaps Atlantis is not a good name for something which is supposed to sit on top of the water … didn‘t that city sink?



Maybe windmills aren’t such a bad idea after all.





Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2010 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 5/10/10

Lately it seems that when I think we are done with Dad’s estate matters, a year after his passing, something else crops up and there are still more accounts to close and more papers to sign. I’m down in Buffalo now, hopefully to finish with these affairs and to attend a Pearl Jam concert on Monday with my pal Bob. I keep telling myself that I’m only as old as I feel. I never wanted to be one of those “old guys” at a concert, but music is the great unifier, right? Anyhow, I like the band, and the last time I saw them play, back in 2003, they put on a great show. There was an article in The Buffalo News last Friday which suggests that Pearl Jam was the only band from the early 90’s Seattle grunge movement that endured the test of time. Many of the original Seattle bands have fallen prey to the disease of rock stardom, and the wannabes and copycats have none of the authenticity of bands like Nirvana or Pearl Jam. While grunge rock is not one of my favorite genres, Pearl Jam has grown on my over the years. With so many phony rock bands out there, these guys are the real deal. They are one of the few contemporary bands that I can turn to when I want to rock out. Before going to see them in 2003, I bought a couple of their albums to familiarize myself with their music, and the more I listened to the songs, the better they got. Their anti-establishment resistance to the money-grubbing, MTV-Ticketmaster-appearance-obsessed music industry is refreshing as well. The other day I went to a record store and purchased their latest CD “Back Spacer”, and was surprised that it was priced as a double album but included only one CD. As it turns out, the CD comes programmed with two free concert downloads from the internet. Naturally, computer ignoramus that I am, I am having trouble getting those concerts, and in fact, every time I hear the word “download” I cringe. I don’t want to have to call tech support when I choose to listen to music!


Last Thursday the Dow free fell about one thousand points early in the trading session before closing down about 340 points. I heard it reported that, at one point during the plunge, Proctor and Gamble’s share value dropped 50% in a matter of minutes. That’s a bit unsettling. Market jitters over the debt crisis in Greece and fears that the bad news would spread to other countries in Europe are credited with causing the plunge, but whatever the reason, it was the wild west on Wall Street last week. Let’s hope cooler heads prevail this week.


The BP oil spill is still out of control and now the plan is to try and drop a four storey concrete cap over the ruptured pipe. That shouldn’t be much harder than finding a needle in a haystack. What a hose job for the Gulf states … just getting back on their feet after Katrina, they now face yet another devastating blow to their economies. Another rogue terrorist tried unsuccessfully to set off a bomb in Times Square. Faisal Shahzad the “Firecracker Bomber” can take his rightful place in the “Keystone Terrorists” hall of fame, alongside the “Shoe Bomber” and the “Underpants Bomber.” Of Pakistani decent, Shahzad may have had links to the Pakistani Taliban. Sooner or later one of those boneheads is going to bumble upon a successful detonation and then it will be no joke. Once again I have the fitting punishment: tie him to a chair, pry his eyelids wide open and make him watch Dr. Phil shows 24/7 until his brain turns to the consistency of spoiled fruit. Let’s show these guys we mean business.


As I finish up this report, it’s Mother’s Day, the Hallmark holiday of all Hallmark holidays, and at least for the first part of today I’m not sure my mother knew who I was. By dinner time she’d rallied a bit and we had a good meal together, but it’s strange to measure my relationship by good moments. I’ve had more than half a lifetime with this woman as my mother, and now that woman is all but gone. It’s very odd, but now I’m thankful for a few lucid sentences, ten minutes of normal communication (whatever that is). My Mother’s Day plan was to plant some flowers outside off the back porch. She likes petunias because they’re hardy. Unfortunately, the winds have been strong and there’s talk of snow; so flowers may not survive. I have no choice but to deal with the forces of nature.



Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2010 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 5/3/10

When I hear a song I like, I often look up the lyrics on the internet. These days I’m listening to a lot of music that I hear on the radio, or that someone else has shared with me through an iPod, or some other portable device, and I have no access to the lyrics. As an amateur songwriter, I am always interested in reading the lyrics that other people write. Gone are the days when I bought an analogue record album, and the lyric sheet was included along with the record sleeve. Now, if I buy a CD and the lyrics are included, I need a magnifying glass to read them. There are a number of internet sites one can go to in order to access song lyrics, and they’re all fairly user friendly. I like a website called A-Z Lyrics (http://www.azlyrcis.com). In the past week, I have copied the lyrics to a lot of my favorite Steely Dan songs - those guys write great lyrics - and a number of other miscellaneous songs I wanted to archive. I have them all neatly filed in alphabetical order in a file on my computer entitled “Cover Songs Jamie Likes.” For anybody who has ever seen my desk, it is a wonder that I have ANYTHING filed in such an organized fashion. I am an artist (self-proclaimed, that is), and artists are often disorganized (feeble rationalization). Anyhow, I was on the A-Z website the other day, and I noticed Justin Bieber’s name. Bieber (sounds like beaver) is the latest teen heart throb topping the charts, and according to his bio (O.K. so I don’t have a life), this Stratford, Ontario fifteen year-old pop sensation got his big break when he “went viral” on YouTube in 2007. He’s hit the big time now, and the other night I watched him perform on Saturday Night Live. I enjoyed the performance … sort of Davy “Monkees” Jones meets Eminem. Anyhow, I looked up the lyrics for the first song on his second album. The song is entitled “Baby”, and the lyrics are about as unoriginal as I’d expect the lyrics for a pop song to be (chorus: Baby, baby, baby oooh/Like baby, baby, baby nooo/ Like baby, baby, baby oooh/ I thought you'd always be mine, mine). What struck me as funny was that there are about a half dozen people credited with co-writing the song. Cole Porter must be rolling over in his grave! Accepting that I am not comparing apples to apples here, I can just picture the Bieber songwriting session: “O.K., so what sort of rhymes with ‘whatever’ … ‘together’?” Four hours later they come up with: “For you, I would have done whatever/ And I just can't believe we ain't together…” Like, whatEVER, dude, those lyrics are like off the hook. It’s a freakin’ masterpiece!



The other night we watched a program on Bravo about the effects of music on the brain, and I found it fascinating. They scanned Sting’s brain as they exposed him to different kinds of music, and then analyzed the various parts of his brain that were stimulated. From this they were able to determine what it is about a gifted musician ’s brain that sets it apart. He processed all “good” music in the same way, but when it was boring, uninspiring muzak, he simply ignored it. I wonder how he feels about “Beiber’s “work”. Sting was a little uncomfortable with the findings; he said that for him the creative process is an intangible, mysterious thing. To have it scientifically analyzed is a little like finding out how your favorite magic trick was accomplished. I learned that there are companies out there that can critique your song by plugging it into a computer model, quantifying its potential to be a hit. I’m sorry Mozart, the computer confirms that your piano concerto is a no go.



Final note … I read that Earth Day was conceived in response to an oil spill off the California coast in 1969. Earth Day 2010 has come and gone, and to commemorate man’s propensity for repeating history, there was a big oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. Apparently, a BP oil rig exploded and sank, and while the first reports from the government were that the accident was not so bad, last Wednesday the revised figures indicate that five times as much oil is daily spilling into the Gulf waters, threatening ecosystems from Louisiana to Florida. While not yet the 11 Million gallons spilled when the Exxon Valdez ran aground in Alaska, back in 1989, this is a significant oil spill, and may end up being even worse than the Valdez spill. Oops. I guess nobody thought about the consequences of being unable to cap a well dug over a kilometer underwater. Wouldn’t you think this would have been something they’d have addressed before drilling the well? Meanwhile, they’re talking about building a 24 square mile wind farm in the Nantucket Sound. Though the proposed windmills would be 5 miles from shore and barely visible, local residents are up in arms. Notable opponents include the late Ted Kennedy. One of the arguments is that wind farms threaten wildlife, but my guess is that it has more to do with views and real estate values. Take your pick … a few unlucky birds, and the odd electrocuted whale, or the entire ecosystem of the Louisiana coast. Tough call. I’m all for wind energy … just not five miles from MY back yard.

Perhaps we should start investigating a new ecology holiday: Alternative Planet Day.

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2010 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

The Oppenheimer Report 4/25/10

There was an interesting story on the six o’clock news last Monday about copy machines and identity theft. I never knew this before, but Xerox copy machines (and perhaps many other brands as well) made after about the year 2000 contain hard drives, and all the data copied on those machines is recorded on that hard drive. Because there is a market for used copy machines, and because most companies that discard their copy machines don’t usually think to wipe the hard drives clean, anyone who purchases a used machine has access to private information. To prove the point, some investigative news reporters purchased three used machines and then downloaded the information stored on the hard drives. In one case, the machine came from the Buffalo Police Department’s Sexual Offender division, and there were over 20,000 documents stored in it, including lists of known sex offenders and classified information about sex offense cases. Another machine contained sensitive income tax information. There were tax returns, copies of checks, social security numbers, and a pile of other personal information. The point is, unless the data on these hard drives is erased when the machines are discarded or sold, a tech savvy identity thief can really hit the jackpot. We tear up ATM receipts, we don’t give out our Social Security numbers to just anyone, and we worry about the information we transmit over the internet. Here’s yet another example of how difficult it is to control our information.




Has anybody been paying attention to this grassroots Tea Party movement sweeping across America? From what I can gather the gist of the movement is that people are finally waking up to the reality of Obamanomics, and now the perception is that JFK is really The King of England. Essentially, this is a growing political movement of fiscal conservatives who opposed the bailout and stimulus packages in favor of free markets. With the advent of the latest Goldman Sachs fraud scandal (venerable Goldman Sachs that, co-incidentally posted record profits last year), there seems to be growing concern that perhaps the wrong people are getting the stimulus money. Unemployment is still high in America and lots of people are still losing their houses. The SEC will try to tar and feather Goldman Sachs, because they have so far been publicly ineffective at closing the cookie jar. I’ll just bet that some of that bailout money will even be used for the Goldman Sachs defense against the SEC allegations. I realize that “Tea Party” is probably just the Republican right re-branding itself after all those horrible Bush years. I also know that a lot of the financial problems we have now happened during Republican administrations (not all of them, by the way). What worries me - and as always this is just my perception - is that the pendulum seems to be swinging to the extremes. I watched a big gun rally outside D.C. and once again the “liberal” press are not so subtly suggesting the polarization of American political factions. Either you’re a right wing Republican facist or a commie, pinko whale-hugging Democrat. Hey, what about the rest of us?!!! What about all of us cynical, somewhat apathetic middle-of-the-roaders?



Finally, nature once again proved to be the mother of all inconvenient truths, when the Eyjafjallajokull volcano in Iceland erupted last week, spewing ash 50,000 feet into the air, crippling air traffic, and wreaking economic havoc on Europe. Millions of air travelers were affected and they’re talking about billions in lost revenue. Now I have another phobia to add to my list. We always hear about the devastating consequences from earthquakes, tsunamis, and hurricanes, but what about volcanoes? How many ticking time bombs are there percolating underneath the earth’s crust? Volcanic eruptions can vastly change the weather, and render large areas uninhabitable. I just read about the Mt. Toba eruption in Sumatra 72,000 years ago. That eruption had a volcanic explosivity index, or VEI, of 8 and was probably the biggest eruption on the planet in 25 million years. By comparison the recent volcano in Iceland had a VEI of 2. I wonder if this one will adversely affect the weather, as the Mt. Pinatubo eruption did back in the summer of 1991. Some of us worry about nuc-“u”-lar anhiliation, some of us worry about climate change, a small and very neurotic minority of us worry about asteroids and solar flares, and of course there are the Gore Bores, who believe that plunging the world into economic chaos in order to lower the global temperature by an insignificant fraction of one degree Farenheit will save our planet. I say let them polar bears and snail darters fend for themselves. I’m a fatalist … why buy a Prius when the next big planetary zit pop, which is by the way COMPLETELY out of our control, could be the final curtain call. Seriously, I don’t think there is anything wrong with being conscious of one’s impact on the planet, in fact it’s a very good idea. I simply find man’s hubris ludicrous … to presume that we have anything more than negligible control over it any of it. We don’t, at least not enough to make much of a difference. The horse is out of the barn and he didn’t look before he leaped. Know what I mean? We screwed the pooch with overpopulation and all the resulting consequences, but won’t I feel stupid when I realize that I denied myself that over-powered American muscle car as we’re all being buried in smoldering volcanic ash? Wow, I could’ve had a V-8.


Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2010 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report - 4/18/10

On the news the other night, there was mention of the passing of Meinhardt Raabe, the “little person” who had played the Munchkin coroner in the Wizard of Oz. He was the guy in the movie who officially proclaimed that the wicked witch of the west was dead. “She’s not only nearly dead, she’s really most sincerely dead.” Clearly that was his moment to shine, but he’d had several other notable accomplishments in his lifetime as well. Among other things, he wrote a book entitled “Memories of a Munchkin,” presumably about his experiences on the set of that famous movie; but the thing that struck me as amusing is that they listed him as a former mascot of the Oscar Mayer Company. I am nothing if not inquisitive, and I wondered, did he wear a costume, or do they simply consider all “little people” to be mascots? I thought mascots were animals, like the chicken for the Toledo Mudhens, or Carlton the Toronto Maple Leafs bear. I couldn’t imagine what a mascot for luncheon meat would look like. Being the judgmental schmuck that I am, I immediately thought, well here’s another classic example of an exploited midget. Did he dress up like one of those miniature cocktail sausages? Oh the indignity! Bursting with curiosity, I googled him and found out that, for THIRTY YEARS, Meinhardt Raabe had toured America in the Oscar Mayer Weinermobile as “Little Oscar, the World’s Smallest Chef”. Hey, it was a paying gig. Like I always say, life is a hose job, but at least it’s a job. I also learned that Raabe had been married to the love of his life for 53 years, had earned a masters degree in business administration, and had been a licensed pilot who flew for the Civil Air Patrol during WWII. Now I want to read his book. Raabe was 94. Whenever I think of the Wizard of Oz, I remember a comment some gay guy made years ago in my real estate class about a difficult woman participating in one of our round table exercises. When she left the table to go to the washroom, he whispered to the rest of us, in a very effeminate, over-the-top, gossipy voice: “She’s never been the same since that house fell on her sister!” I loved that comment.




As I was driving back up north from Toronto, I listened to a talk radio show wherein they discussed my favorite pet peeve: the technologically inspired social disconnect that has been insidiously creeping into our culture. Asocial behavior, especially apparent among the teens and twenty-somethings, is a cancer that is increasingly eroding the very fabric of our society. On the show an author was touting his book on the subject, and he discussed our obsession with celebrity and notoriety (a la reality television), as well as the shallow relationships developed on the newest social networks (e.g. Facebook, Twitter, and MySpace). He spoke of the anemic relationships we string together through these social networks, and the point he seemed to be making was that we are becoming a society of isolated beings with feeble social and communication skills. To prove his point, he put out an invitation to sixty of his Facebook “ friends” to attend a Facebook party at a local bar. Forty responded, indicating that they would probably attend, but when the day arrived, only one person actually showed up. He did have the humility to concede that perhaps he was just a nerd who had over-estimated his influence on a bunch of relative strangers, but he still may have a point … there is no commitment inherent in a Facebook relationship. We twit, and face, and myspace, and blog to broadcast our lives to the invisible public, and we measure our popularity in terms of “hits” and stat counters. Hey, I’m guilty as charged … how presumptuous of me to assume anybody reads my blog. That’s why I sometimes joke about my “twelve loyal readers”. But are we looking for numbers or friends? Pay attention to me, I’m worthy of your albeit pathetically short attention span. Clearly, attention spans ARE shorter, and we favor anonymous cyber communications over face to face discourse. I had my first online chat the other day with an old friend … I might be the last person in North America under the age of 60 who had not yet experienced a live chat. While it was cool to make contact, and to embrace this new (to me) form of correspondence -- it was a little like writing a letter and getting an instant response -- I still would have preferred to speak to the friend face to face. Another friend sent me a text message on my cell phone the other day, and by the time I fumbled through my five word response (I do not have a text friendly phone, or small fingers) I could have spoken the entire Gettysburg Address. While I still worked in industrial real estate there was great emphasis on using the computer to maintain a client database. Some agents hardly ever spoke to their clients, they e-mailed and faxed. I wasn’t the world’s most successful agent, but I did believe in cold calling and knocking on doors, and most of my business was generated through personal contact. I fear that, as I get on in my years, I will succumb to all these abbreviated means of communication without ever making human contact. Shop in cyberspace, text your divorce, fire someone by video conference, evict by email. Look for “Memories of a Munchkin,” coming soon to an Ipad near you.



Now, if we would only fight our wars with cyborgs instead of human beings!



Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2010 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 4/13/10

My mom suffers from a form of dementia known as Lewy Body Disease, and until she was diagnosed with it about two years ago, I’d never even heard of it. Forty years ago, I’m guessing that almost all forms of dementia were lumped into the category of senility, or “a hardening of the arteries”, but these days we know that there are many different kinds of dementia. Lewy body is a a real challenge for the caregivers. First of all, it’s not easy to diagnose, and in fact we thought Mom was suffering from Alzheimer’s for almost two years before a neurologist properly determined the nature of her dementia. It is important to reach a proper diagnosis, because the medications used for Alzheimer’s sufferers are of little use, and in some cases contra-indicative, for the Lewy Body patient. Secondly, unlike the steady degeneration characterized by Alzheimer’s, Lewy Body Disease presents with strange and confounding symptoms. The Lewy Body sufferer see saws back and forth between lucidity and complete delusion, sometimes frequently during a 24 hour period. The disease attacks the brain in a more random pattern than does Alzheimers. One minute Mom is the Mom I know, and with the flip of a switch, she becomes an entirely different person … and then she‘s back again. We never know what to expect. There are hallucinations, periods of catatonia, moments of joy followed inexplicably by anger … in short, it’s an emotional roller coaster. Thankfully, we have excellent caregivers, but for a loved one who doesn’t know what is happening, it can be truly frightening. My sister and I have been coming in to Buffalo as much as we can, because we don’t know how much longer we have with the Mom we know. I have learned to be thankful for the good moments, which are becoming fewer and further between. The other day Mom announced that she wanted to go out to dinner, and so out to dinner we went. Everything was great, we had a good dinner, we laughed, we came home, she went to bed, was relatively normal for the first part of yesterday, and then she had hallucinations in the afternoon. She saw monkeys on Dad’s pipe rack in the den. We had dinner, and as she often does, she slept for a while after dinner. When it was time for her to go to bed, she got up, and to our surprise, walked into the kitchen instead of going upstairs. She sat down at the kitchen table and, in a demanding tone, declared that she was ready for her breakfast. At 12:30A.M I fixed my mom a scrambled egg with toast and coffee, because there was no changing her mind. As she ate her meal, she asked why I wasn’t eating. I shrugged and said I’d already had my breakfast. She told me to go into the other room and watch the sunrise. O.K. Mom.




While in Buffalo, and when Mom is sleeping or incommunicative, I look for other means to divert myself. The other day I went into Blockbuster, a store soon destined to be obsolete, and I rented Bill Maher’s documentary “Religulous”. I’ve been wanting to see it since he announced he was making it several years ago. The fact that it was created by the same guy who filmed “Borat” (which I loved) really captured my interest. I don’t think the movie was widely distributed, and I doubt it ever will be. “Guerilla” or “ambush” video, such as “Religulous” or the films which Michael Moore makes, seems to be growing in popularity. While they may not present a fair argument for the point they are trying to make, I enjoy these films for the same reason I enjoy watching some white collar criminal squirm in a 20/20 expose. I‘m glad I finally saw it, but “Religulous” turned out to be a bit of a disappointment for me. In my opinion, Maher , with his rapier wit, could have made a better case for the lunacy that accompanies most fundamentalist interpretations of religion. There WERE moments though … like when he spars intellectually with Jesus at a religious theme park. Jesus, by the way, turns out to be a big Bill Maher fan. Who knew? Anyhow, I think the point Maher was trying to make, however successfully, is that faith and religion are predicated on certainty, and life and reality just don’t work that way for many people. My big beef with organized religion concerns the amount of blood that is (and has historically been) spilled in the name of g-d. In my humble opinion, something is fundamentally wrong with the belief that it is o.k to kill someone because their actions or beliefs differ from yours. Murder the abortion doctor to celebrate one’s right to life. Drive a plane into the Twin Towers to seek revenge on the western infidel. I’m all for faith and hope, but I don’t think those concepts are well served by violence, hatred, and promises of eternal hellfire. By the way, what’s so great about virgins?



I head back up to the Great White North tomorrow. Tax returns have been filed, estimated payments have been made, unnecessary cable services were cancelled (I just found out that my deceased father has been paying for internet for the past year) …. And breakfast was served (albeit at 12:30AM). I’m just rolling with the punches. - Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2010 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 4/5/10

Having now observed seven of the eight days of Passover, or as we Jews affectionately refer to it, “Starch Madness”, I will be happy to once again be eating leavened bread. Apparently the supermarkets in Huntsville do not see fit to carry a stock of matzo, or unleavened bread, so important for this holiday, and we had to procure ours in Toronto. Considering the ingredients, water and flour, I am surprised by how expensive it is (over $6 a box in one store). I should go into the Kosher food business. Of course my mother-in-law found it for less than half that price. I don’t much like matzo. Matzo ball soup is fine, but for me eating plain matzo is like eating cardboard. Besides that, it’s constipating. As I said in last week’s report, Passover celebrates the Jews freedom from Egyptian slavery, but I was a little puzzled about one aspect of the story of their emigration from Egypt. After leaving Egypt, they reportedly spent forty years in the desert before they reached the Promised Land. It doesn’t look like THAT long a walk to me; did Moses forget his GPS? One of my Jewish friends told me that one theory about why it took so long is that the Jews waited to reach the Promised Land until they had produced a generation NOT born into slavery. This makes some sense. I thought they were just perfecting the production of the world’s most expensive unleavened bread.



A belated Happy April Fools Day to all my readers. April first up here in the GWN was marked by unusually warm weather. Tell me, where did it become a tradition to commit mischief on the first day of April? I spent Not-So-Bad Friday helping our neighbor put in his dock. I also launched our folding boat in the lake for my earliest boat ride ever. That Porta-Bote is an amazing boat. We used it to float dock sections out into the lake, and it worked like a charm. It’s very sturdy. There is a great photo available at the Porta-Bote website showing a boat like mine, filled with 600 pounds of concrete, as it lands in the water, having been dropped from a height of 21 feet. The test, done I believe by the Japanese Coast Guard, was conducted to illustrate how durable the polypropylene hull was. I’ve had a lot of fun with that boat, and despite a few design flaws (like the seats for instance), it really is bulletproof.



As of last Tuesday night, the Toronto Maple Leafs are statistically eliminated from the Stanley Cup playoffs, again. While I knew that day would come, I really thought they had a shot this year. They’ve all but replaced the team in the past six months, and they seemed to be winning for a change. I suppose I must write this one off as another “rebuilding year” … again. Time to start rooting for the Sabres, again. And yes, I am a hockey whore. By the way, the Leafs finally beat the Sabres the other night, after failing to do so in I think the last six consecutive attempts. Of course, they did so when it no longer mattered and when they were out of the running! And speaking of hockey, the other night, I watched about half of a movie about snappy dresser Don Cherry’s life, and I found it quite interesting. I think it was produced by his son. As much of a bonehead as Cherry seems to be as an announcer on Hockey Night in Canada, there is, as the movie points out, a human side to the guy. I guess he’s a little like the Don Rickles of the hockey world.



Just before Easter Sunday, I watched a few “experts” spar on Larry King Live over the latest controversy involving the Catholic Church. The issue was whether or not Pope Benedict XVI was guilty of delaying justice for Michael Teta, an Arizona priest accused of molesting two boys, seven and nine, twelve years ago. The argument goes that the Pope, then Cardinal Ratzinger, knowingly ignored Teta’s onerous transgressions and was therefore culpable. This blind eye approach seems to be an ongoing problem with the Church, and if it is not addressed soon, it will eclipse all that is good about Catholicism. I’ve got a novel idea for the Vatican, try abandoning the ridiculous and unnatural practice of enforced celibacy. If a priest elects to remain celibate, good for him, but forcing celibacy on grown men, as we have seen, has horrible and irreversible consequences. Perhaps offenders should, among other things, be forced to eat copious amounts of matzo … maybe even gefilte fish if they are really bad.



Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2010 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 3/29/10

Well, it’s that time of year again, when the crocuses begin to bloom (prematurely), the ice melts (causing floods), the animals begin to emerge from their winter sleep (to rummage through our garbage), the Toronto Maple Leafs once again find themselves in a “too-little-too-late” position to make the playoffs … and I look through the swap sheet for toys I cannot afford. There is a Canadian buy and sell service available known as Kijiji, and online I can browse the 1500 or more ATV’s and motorcycles available in my area with the click of a mouse. Akin to window shopping, I call this monitor shopping, and it is much cheaper than buying the weekly swap sheet for three bucks. I love to comparison shop, and while I am rather half-heartedly searching for a good bargain on a used ATV, I’m in no hurry. That said, there are some decent bargains out there. Last summer I had access to a 4x4 Suzuki ATV owned by one of the carpenters, who brought it to use on our job. Not only was it fun to play with, it was also quite handy. I used it several times to haul firewood down to the house from the top of our long driveway. As well, we used it once to grade the driveway. One time, when a tree fell across the driveway, I cut it in half with a chainsaw and was able to pull the two halves out of the way in no time. A lot of people up here own snowmobiles, but I’ve never really had much use for one of those. As toys go, ATVs are pretty good in the snow as well and I can use it all year round. I think they are even allowed on secondary roads if they are plated.



Last week, my cousin Louis Reich passed away in Buffalo, and family came in from all around for the funeral. My sister and brother-in-law drove in from New Canaan, Ct., cancelling plans to celebrate my brother-in-law’s 65th birthday. I felt bad for my brother-in-law - 65 is a big birthday - so, on Saturday I suggested we make a road trip to Niagara Falls to do a little male bonding. Ostensibly, our destination was Love Canal, but in fact these road trips are an excuse to get out of the house, cruise around, reminisce about relatively mundane events (like getting drunk), which have gradually been transformed into exciting adventures with the passage of time. Usually, we end up playing a little eight ball in a dive bar. Though I had been to Love Canal - they call it something different now, like Black Creek - last year with my pal Bob, it was still surprising to see that it has been almost entirely re-developed. Little low income houses have popped up everywhere and the area is full of residents. Gone are all the boarded, toxic carcasses of homes long since abandoned by the emigrating residents of Love Canal. Now, all that remains of the old development are a few bulldozed foundations and the odd remnant of construction debris. Even the bright yellow hazardous waste signs have been removed from the fence surrounding the adjacent containment site. Perhaps the area is once again safe for redevelopment, and I suppose they wouldn’t make the same mistake twice (hah!) but, not unlike an Indian burial ground, I think it might have been appropriate not to re-populate the area. The old school has been leveled, but we parked in the school parking lot and made the obligatory viewing of the actual canal. As we walked out onto the little bridge that spans the canal, we were both shocked to see a fluorescent green substance, not unlike anti-freeze, oozing out of a sewer pipe and directly into the canal water. I guess some things never change. Having sold industrial real estate in Western New York for more than two decades, I suspect that there are dozens of hazardous waste sites throughout Niagara and Erie Counties, many which are situated dangerously close to heavily populated areas.



Anyhow, I suppose a trip to Love Canal is no substitute for a special 65th birthday party, spent with a bunch of his old friends. Nevertheless, I’m glad Larry and I had the opportunity to spend a little time together. In keeping with his tendency to give cheap and inappropriate gifts, I bought him a grab bag from the local dollar store filled with things like a synthetic hair replacement, a pill container, a tin of potted ham (fifty-seven cents), and a book of Sudoku puzzles. Happy Birthday dude … live long and prosper! Today, Monday, I’m back up north to first night of Passover, and tonight I will attend a Seder supper with Shauna and her family. Passover is a Jewish holiday which lasts seven days and commemorates the freedom of the Jews from Egyptian slavery. It also marks a time when Jews all over the world eat unnatural foods like gefilte fish and matzo. I can‘t wait.



Louie, you were a good guy and we’ll all miss you.



Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2010 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 3-22-10

We have spent a good part of the past week cleaning this log home, and we are far from done. Feeling a bit like Sisyphus pushing the rock uphill, I persist. You might ask me what took us so long, given that we have been living in the house for the better part of a year. In fact, until very recently, there was still construction work going on here, and it’s useless to do a real clean until all the saws are out of the house. For a long time, they were using chainsaws IN the house; thankfully, those days are over. Chainsaws are obnoxious enough outdoors, but when they are used with the confines of an enclosed home, they become infinitely more annoying. Frankly - and I think I speak for anybody who has built a house from the ground up - there are pros and cons to being present through the entire construction process. On the plus side, you are apprised of any and all complications, and privy to decisions that are made. Believe me, there are ALWAYS problems. On the down side, you are constantly bombarded with the ever-present invasiveness of a construction project. I distinctly remember watching as the hole was cut out of our living room wall to make room for the chimney flue. Watching the carpenter chain saw a four foot hole in the tallest log wall in our home, I cringed. What is it they say, you’ve got to break a few eggs to make an omelet? In fact, I am thankful to have had the privilege to watch this house being built, from beginning to end … and I have no desire to EVER do it again.




As I begin writing this week’s report, we have hired a company  that specializes in vacuuming out heating ducts, because there is an enormous amount of construction debris that ends up in those ducts. Not only is this bad for the furnaces, but it means that dust blows up through the vents every time the furnaces kick on. Of course, in our infinite wisdom and sense of organization, we waited through almost an entire heating season before doing this, thus allowing all that debris to be spread throughout the house. This duct vacuuming is more complicated than I thought it would be, and to properly remove all the sawdust, screws, etc. requires a serious vacuum as well as a pneumatic device to blow all the crap from the upstairs vents down to the basement. Luckily the weather has been remarkably mild, and we won’t freeze because of windows that must left open to allow for air hoses to be passed through from the van outside. Hopefully, when this procedure is completed, we won’t have so much dust accumulating in the house. We’ll see.



In the soft news department, “Outlaw” biker star Jesse James apparently cheated on America’s sweetheart and recent Oscar winner Sandra Bullock. Is nothing sacred … I thought those two were so happy together? Tiger Woods has completed his obligatory three months of public contrition and has now announced he will return to the PGA tour. Record-busting swindler-turned-convict, Bernie Madoff-with-the-money, was reportedly beaten up in prison a few months ago, to almost everyone’s approval. The irony of his assault is that it will probably necessitate some kind of special prison treatment, and this will likely cost John Q. Public even more money than this putz has already squandered. A moment of righteous indignation … sometimes, just sometimes, I long for the good old days when blatantly guilty wrongdoers were boiled in oil. Talk about your ratings booster … give me a thirty-second spot on that T.V. coverage! When I think back a few centuries to all those innocent women burned at the stake in Salem, and here’s Bernie complaining because his chipped beef is cold. I suppose a slow death in prison is about as much justice as we can expect, after all this IS a civilized society, right? Hmph. President Obama’s big health care initiative has come down to the final vote, and as of last Friday there were only ten votes needed to kill his bill, with thirty-five votes still undecided. While I applaud the noble intentions of universal health care, I wonder if any emphasis is being given to enforcing pro-active, preventative medicine. If we are going to make health care coverage mandatory, is it not also fair to enforce a “Twinkie/Marlboro Tax” on all the apathetic slobs who so willingly disregard their own health to the considerable expense of their recently appointed “comrades” … and yes, I’m cynical. We just built a house.



Go Leafs.



Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2010 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 3-14-10

I was down in Toronto last week for a few days to take care of some things, and lo and behold, I discovered it was Canadian Music Week in the city. Though I am a music lover and have lived in Toronto for over fifteen years, I have never before attended this event. Throughout the week, about 700 bands are scheduled to play at various venues throughout the city, and being the adventuresome soul that I am, I decided to check a few of the acts. I would have really enjoyed catching some of the songwriting forums held at the Fairmont Royal York, but I was too late for that. Thursday night, I rode my bicycle downtown and hit two venues: The Horseshoe Tavern on Queen Street, and afterwards the famous El Macambo on Spadina. The bands were generally forgettable, but I found the spectators very interesting. As well, I fulfilled a longtime desire to see the inside of the legendary El Macambo. The older I get, the less inclined I am to do something out of the norm, and this was my one feeble attempt to revive my severely atrophied sense of spontaneity. Riding my bike at night, wearing dark clothing was a nice touch. I’m sure that there will be a lot of good bands featured during the week, but I don’t think Thursday night at the Horseshoe was the place to be. I doesn’t matter because, in fifteen years, when I’m sipping a cocktail of Metamucil and orange juice, I will wildly exaggerate the sense of adventure generated by this crazy foray into the lurid underground of Toronto’s vibrant club scene. Hey dude, THE STONES played the El Macambo, once, a long time ago. And I was there…well not exactly when the Stones were there, but there nonetheless. By the time I made it to the El Macambo, a little altered and having already seen three bands at the Horseshoe, I could have seen a punk Mariachi band and I wouldn’t have known. This music watching is exhausting. Next year, I will approach this event with a little more discrimination, and perhaps even see a band I choose to see.

Back up in Katrine for the weekend, I decided to continue my exploration of the live music scene by attending the world famous Country Jamboree at the Katrine community centre on Saturday afternoon. This is my second big event at this community centre, and I wasn’t disappointed. Loosely translated, they served beer, and it was cheap. Country music is not my favorite genre, but I embrace all music with open arms. O.K., punk, rap, Indonesian gamelon music, opera, and a few others, not so much. When I arrived, the parking lot was packed, and when I got inside, I found out why. There was dancing, there was booze, there were complimentary sandwiches and cupcakes; clearly, this was a jamboree. And I have to say, as colorful as was the crowd in Toronto, they paled by comparison to this group. These folks knew how to party … probably due to the fact that they spend a good part of their winters blowing, plowing, and generally dealing with copious amounts of snow. They were young and old, hippy longhairs and redneck codgers. One old timer, as she passed me bouncing off the dance floor like a pogo stick, winked at me and earnestly confided “we all go a little crazy on Saturdays!” Work it grandma. The last band (there were four altogether) was really quite good. I was a little surprised, although I have always maintained that some of the best live music happens when I least expect it.



Is there any good reason why they don’t make daylight savings time occur to coincide with the Spring equinox? It just seems logical. I’m getting Spring fever big time, which might explain why I attended the Katrine jamboree, and we have had a substantial thaw that removed most of the snow from our property. The ice huts have been removed from the lake, the weather has been mild and, as of this weekend, the days will seem longer. Though it has been, relatively speaking, a mild winter, I’m ready for it to be over. At present our property is a big mud pit, because topsoil was brought in just before it snowed. We put down grass seed before the snow, but won’t know for a month or two if it will begin to grow. Landscaping remains the one big project we must complete before this ongoing work in progress is completed … that and the 438 glitches that need to be addressed. Another day.



Perhaps I can play at the next gig at the community center. I could be adored by a bevy of nonagenarian groupies. I’d love to see their expressions when I play my country classic “How Come it Hurts When I Pee?!” Seriously, I think a lot of the people up here could identify with that song.





Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2010 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 3/9/10

I begin my report today with a rant about transformers. Those are the little, or not so little black boxes attached to many of the power supplies, which we get with just about every electrical appliance we purchase these days. I have about twenty of them lying about our house, and I have no idea which one goes with what device. Some are likely for devices which I have long since discarded. Whenever I do need one it always seems to be the wrong voltage. I try to label them, but because most of them are black, I have to tape a label to them, and tape comes off. A couple of years before he died, I bought Dad one of those digital picture frames, which gives the viewer a slide show of selected photographs, and he almost immediately misplaced the power supply. Of course it required some bizarre fractional voltage, not readily available in most stores. I finally found one that would work - it was one of those multiple voltage jobs - and I plugged it into the frame. It worked, and everything was fine until someone fooled with it and changed the voltage setting, thereby blowing out the screen on the picture frame. At least that’s what I think happened. Dad never really liked the thing anyhow, but I couldn’t return the frame, because now I’d broken it due to my own carelessness. It seems as if I have a lot of little black cords with USB like ends on them that connect to cameras, GPS devices, computers, television sets, etc. Again, I’ve forgotten what they all do, and each one has a different end on it, completely incompatible with any device other than the one for which it was intended. Actually, that is a problem with a lot of the hi tech stuff today. Once again, it’s technology-1, Jamie - 0. Life has simply become too complicated for me, and the more fogey-ized I become, the more I long for the days when a television set did not come with a set of instructions the size of a phone book.




Yes, I watched the Oscars last night, and was surprised to see that James Cameron and his obscenely expensive (and profitable) film “Avatar” did not run away with the show. In fact, what appear to be good stories did, and kudos to the Academy for recognizing them and the writers and film makers who tell them. Out of character for me, I saw a first run movie last week while I was in Toronto. I haven’t been to a current movie screening in perhaps six years, but with my last five hundred dollar purchase at Shoppers Humungous Drug Warehouse, I was given two, count em, two, complementary tickets to any movie showing at a Cineplex theatre, and there just happens to be one of those in our apartment building. Because the comp tickets expire in a few months, I decided I should see something soon and I caught “Crazy Heart” with Jeff Bridges. I can see why he won the award for best male actor; he was very good. As much as the next human rutabaga, I like the brainless entertainment provided by a movie reliant on dazzling special effects, but it was also refreshing to see a movie that simply tells a good story well. I guess I also related to the subject matter: it’s about a washed up songwriter. Of course, I’d have had to have achieved some success as a songwriter to become washed up, but that’s beside the point. Brief aside: in his acceptance speech, Bridges spoke of his acting family and specifically about his father Lloyd. He talked about being coached by his dad to do an episode of the T.V. program “Sea Hunt” when he was a boy. I am old enough to remember “Sea Hunt” and it was pretty silly show, so naturally I watched it every week. In fact, I’d probably watch it if it were still on. In almost every episode, Lloyd Bridges would end up in an underwater struggle with some bad guy who would inevitably try to kill him by disabling the oxygen supply on his scuba tank. Those were the old tanks with two hoses coming out of the breathing regulator. What was funny was that the bad guys always cut the exhaust hose, which causes a lot of bubbles but won’t stop the diver from breathing. Back in the Sixties, you could get away with little tricks like that. Anyhow, I’m glad Jeff Bridges won for his performance as Bad Blake. As I said earlier, I can’t remember the last time I saw an Oscar winning performance at the time it came out in the movie theatres. The other big winner at this year’s Academy Awards was “The Hurt Locker”. I’ll probably get around to seeing that one in two or three years.

I also want to see “Precious” and “District 9”.



What else. The Leafs still suck big time, although they did squeak out a win against their dreaded rivals Ottawa last week. Final note for anyone who might have been trying to “Face” or “Space” me on the internet, or to send me a photo by email. We have until very recently been on dial-up here at Jasper Bark Lodge. It was, to say the least, unacceptable. We just got a Bell MiFi unit, which is essentially “high speed” internet service through a cell phone, and that has presented us with a whole new set of technological problems … but at least it’s wireless! Once again I embrace the Great Satan of technology. Depending on which way the wind blows, and whether or not the gods of good cell reception are smiling down on Katrine at any given moment, we do or do not have faster internet service. Be careful everyone, I think I’m losing it; I might soon be channeling with fellow technology hater Ted Kaczynski.
 
Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2010 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 3/1/10

As I begin writing this week’s report, the 2010 Vancouver Winter Olympics are winding down, and the last big event, the U.S./ Canada men’s hockey game for the gold medal, is about to begin. Of course, there is a rivalry between me, the American, and Shauna, the Canadian. Just to bug her, I am wearing the only article of clothing I have here which advertises my American roots: my 2009 Western New York Poker Run tee shirt. I’ve enjoyed this winter Olympics, as I have enjoyed all the past ones, and there were a lot of memorable moments, a lot of upsets, and a lot of excitement. I’ll always remember skier Alex Bilodeau hugging his disabled brother after he won Canada’s first gold medal ever in a home-sponsored winter Olympics. As it turned out, Canada set a record for the most gold medals won by one country, I believe in the history of the Olympic Games. By the way, can anybody tell me why each of the medal-winning athletes received what looked like a giant head of spoiled broccoli? Will there be cauliflower at the 2014 Olympics in Russia? I’ll remember watching Canadian figure skater Joannie Rochette skate her short program, shortly after learning that her mom had died suddenly of a heart attack. She went on to win a bronze medal. I think that takes courage! I am a little embarrassed to admit that I got (somewhat) excited about the Norway vs. Canada curling finals (o.k., maybe not so much), and am happy that Canada won gold in that event. Hockey is a little different, especially considering that Buffalo Sabres goalie Ryan Miller is in the U.S. goal. I’ll be happy for either team when they win; I just want to see a good, hard fought game, but I WILL be rooting for the United States.




To stave off the excruciating ennui of winter, last year I attended the Kearney Dogsled Races up here in the tundra. This year, in keeping with my desperate need to find entertainment during this grueling final stretch of winter, I attended the Katrine Winter Karnival. If winter is my enemy, I say embrace it! Stand back Vancouver, because Katrine, Ontario was the place to be last Saturday. I was not early enough to attend the parade; yes, in a town of perhaps sixty people, they had a parade, with floats (o.k., two, maybe three floats) and everything. There were, of course, no spectators; it’s a running gag that everyone who comes to the parade is in it. I DID make it to the community center, a little late for the frozen turkey toss, but in time for the very competitive, much-anticipated, and ever- popular bed races (see photo above)). This Karnival had everything: balloons, weiners, beer (huge plus), a small mound of snow for the kids to slide down, a bonfire (more of a small camp fire), a hammer-the-nail-into-the-log contest, horse drawn hayrides using real draft horses, and of course, the all-day party in the Katrine Community Center. The live entertainment was memorable, though after a beer or two it thankfully became a little less so. I didn’t stay for the $12 roast beef dinner, or for the big dance, although I did make my small contribution to the event. I am, after all, a member of this community now. As I was leaving, I caught a little of the bed racing competition. That alone was worth the price of admission. The only thing missing was the comprehensive CTV coverage.





As I finish this report, “golden boy” Sydney Crosby has just beaten my man Ryan Miller in overtime to win (3-2) the gold medal for the Canadian Men’s hockey team. It was a VERY close game, and the U.S. looked like they might pull it off when they came from behind with seconds left to go in regulation time. Clearly the game could have gone either way, and I admit I’m a little disappointed that the U.S. team didn’t win. They were not really favored to do well this year, and they far exceeded most people’s expectations. Still, Canada winning “Canada’s game” is I suppose a fitting way to end this winter Olympics, so good for you Canada. Right on, eh?!



I think the Town of Katrine should be considered for a future Winter Olympics venue. At the very least, I feel that bed racing should become a certified winter event. I also think they should include some kind of snowmobile competition. For instance, there is an event, ever popular up here in the Great White North, called “Puddle Jumping”. Basically, this involves hydroplaning over open water on a snowmobile at high speeds. Low speed is not an option due to the stubborn laws of gravity. There are a whole slew of crazy things people do up here on snowmobiles, mostly I think alcohol-inspired . If they ever give out medals for “most intoxicated snowmobiler,” I think someone in Katrine or the surrounding area might be a contender. Put those guys on a Wheaties box, why dontcha! Eh?!



Seriously though, way to go Canada. Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2010 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 2/22/10

Last Friday, while I was driving around Buffalo on one of my several trips from the lawyer’s office to the accountant’s, I listened to a little of the discussion on the radio about Tiger Woods’ public apology. There was comprehensive analysis of his body English, much discussion about the fact that he was reading from a script, about the fact that his wife Elin was not there by his side, about whether or not his apology sincere, speculation about whether or not he would rejoin the PGA tour this year, etc. etc. The big question on everybody’s mind … will Tiger have to be gelded? I think this is much ado about nothing. It occurs to me that the latest U.S. offensive in Marjah, Afghanistan is marginally more newsworthy than the sexual indiscretions of an obscenely rich American golf star, but then, what do I know? And who decided that celebrities and professional athletes should be our role models? I’m always pleasantly surprised when I hear one of those bozos speak and they AREN’T misinformed about their own importance. It should have been clear to me by now that in general, we Americans (read I) favor tabloid sensationalism and scandal over anything resembling “hard” or legitimate news.




As always, I’ve enjoyed watching the coverage of the Winter Olympics. Last night’s big hockey game between the U.S. and Canada was quite the upset. I understand that tickets to that game were selling on the streets of Vancouver for upwards of $6000.00 per ticket, and Canada was widely favored to win. Tickets are likely to go for double that figure if Canada does well in the medal rounds. Still, you never can tell who’s going to shine in the Olympics, and the Americans surprised almost everyone, cinching the game with a last minute empty net goal to win 5-3. There was tremendous pressure on the Canadian men’s hockey team to win gold on home ice, and yet the other night they had struggled with the Swiss team, whom they were favored to beat handily, barely winning that one on a shoot out goal by superstar Sydney Crosby. I think all the hype about hockey being “Canada’s Game” might have hurt the Canadian team. Indeed, Canada probably has the better team, at least on paper, but this last game was not another David and Goliath re-enactment of the Lake Placid “Miracle on Ice” … this game really boiled down to the stronger goaltender. Buffalo Sabres goalie Ryan Miller was simply better than Canadian goalie Martin Brodeur, in that game. It ain’t over til it’s over and nobody can predict what will happen in the medal rounds, but that game last night is what makes the Olympics so exciting to me. All this nonsense about Canada’s game on Canada’s turf is, from what I’ve observed about the country, in my seventeen years living there, uncharacteristic of Canadians. Canadians are, by enlarge, modest people. And yes, they are patriotic, but not jingoistic about their country. As an ex-patriot, living in Canada, I have cheered on and honestly celebrated many of the Canadian victories. I have quite reluctantly donned the cape of masochism and developed into a huge Leafs fan. I know, I know!! It’s fun to watch anybody win at the Olympics, especially when you think about the sacrifice most athletes make to become Olympians. This past week, dark horses have emerged in every event and from every country (well, maybe not Andorra)… from speed skating to ski jumping. Of course the big countries usually win more medals, but not always. I loved watching Netherlands speed skater Mark Tauter win gold the other night, beating out the American favorite Shani Davis, because he looked so exhilarated and excited. I really didn’t think an American had a chance in Men’s Figure Skating against the indomitable Russian Yevgny Plushenko, but then Evan Lysacek won the gold. I don’t deny that I sometimes grumble when one country seems to dominate a sport. In general, I’m rooting for the underdog, and in the Olympics, that can be anyone. So Canada, I say this to you … you still produce some of the finest hockey players in the world … but the world is a big place. Next game, less hype, more focus! By the way, you’re not out of it yet, and just remember, you’re something like 8-0 in Curling, so that‘s something (hee hee). Final note: answer me this, why are there two different one-man sliding competitions, the skeleton and the luge? Facing forwards or backwards … pick one. I think there should be a competition wherein the competitors go down the track standing on skates.



Final note … a moment of silence for former Secretary of State Alexander Haig who croaked last week at 85. When Reagan was shot he was the guy widely criticized for proclaiming “I’m in charge now!” Apparently he was a little unclear on the chain of command. As we so often say in politics … oops!

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2010 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report - 2/15/10

As I begin writing this week’s report my father-in-law is getting his first decent haircut in perhaps sixty or seventy years. This is not to say that he has been growing his hair for that long, but for the last six decades he’s been doing it himself. The predominant flaw in his technique is that he employs the comb over, and my father-in-law is a textbook example for why the comb over does not work. The other day, the wind caught his hair and blew his six or seven strands of three foot long, woven, comb over hair into a hairstyle that would have made Cyndie Lauper blush. Finally, the other night, there was a family intervention, and the result is that he VERY reluctantly agreed to allow Shauna to cut his hair. During the haircut, he bitched so much that you’d think he was having his testicles lopped off. The mere fact that the comb over has now been removed is a remarkable improvement, and now that she has put the finishing touches on the haircut, I can see that the ridiculosity (new synonym for ridiculousness) is gone.



I watched this haircut with some satisfaction, because not long after Shauna and I were married, I agreed to let Dad Taylor give me a haircut. That was a terrible decision. I suppose I didn’t want to offend him, and thought I was being a good sport. With one sweep of his hair whiz, basically a comb with an attached razor, he hacked off a fist full of my hair, leaving a huge bald spot in my then full (if thinning) head of hair. It took a long time to fix that mistake. I now look upon the hair whiz as an instrument of terror, and to this day I have not completely forgiven him. He’s been using that thing on his own hair for years, which is somewhat akin to using a circular saw to trim one’s toenails.


Does anybody out there remember the “Flo-Bee”? That was a device that vacuumed and cut your hair at the same time. I used to love their T.V. ads, because it was just such a silly machine. There have been many crazy haircutting tools invented over the years, and I can’t think of one that really works. I still prefer the old fashioned way, and I leave my haircutting duties in the hands of a professional. Now that I am essentially bald, my haircuts are pretty simple; I keep my hair very short these days, and a haircut consists of five or six passes with the electric clippers, and then a little touch up with a pair of scissors. I could probably do that myself, with a little practice, but don’t feel like it. I’m funny enough looking to begin with, I don‘t need to compound the problem.


Friday night we watched the opening ceremonies of the Vancouver Winter Olympics, and short of a the indoor torch malfunctioning during the lighting ceremony (one of the hydraulic arms failed to lift), for all the world to see, I thought the ceremony was very entertaining. I could have done without the opera singer. K.D. Lang singing her version of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujiah” was my favorite part of the ceremony. That is a great song, and I thought she sang it beautifully. Certainly the excitement was tempered by the tragic death of Georgian luge star Nodal Kumaritashvili, who lost control on a practice run Friday morning and was killed instantly when his body slammed against a guard rail. I was shocked to see a video of the entire accident on the news that night. They figure he was going about 87 MPH when he flew off the track. Now there are questions about whether or not the track was too fast, and they‘ve shortened the run as well as raised the crash wall. I was amused to see that the Cayman Islands has  representatives at this year’s Winter Olympics. We were wondering in which events they were participating (winter banking??), at which point Shauna piped in: “frozen assets”. Hee hee. I’d never heard of one country before, The Principality of Andorra (dubious internet fact: population 83,888), stuck in the Pyrenees Mountains between France and Spain. I could have done without the ten minute coverage of Wayne Gretzky, standing in the back of a truck, driving through the streets of Vancouver to light the outdoor torch down by the waterfront. Now for the events. As I finish this report on Sunday evening, Alexandre Bilodeau has just won gold in the Men’s Freestyle ski competition, making him the very first Canadian EVER to win gold at home. Based on the fact that Toronto absolutely erupted simply because the Leafs made the quarter or semi finals of the Stanley Cup Playoffs (years ago), I think there will be some serious partying all across Canada tonight to celebrate this momentous event ...
right on, eh!
Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2010 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 2/8/10

Well, it’s that time of year again, when we put our collective, misguided faith in a fat rodent to predict when winter will end. This year, I feel honor bound to at least touch on the absurdity of this custom, and on the shenanigans that yearly accompany it. I don’t know where the time has gone; it seemed like only yesterday that I was freezing my tuchas off. Wait a minute, that WAS yesterday! I don’t need some fat rat jiving me into thinking that this misery will soon be over. The other day, I heard something on the news that made me chuckle. Apparently, there is a new animal rights controversy brewing, this time involving groundhogs. The all knowing, all-feeling folks over at PETA (People who Excel at Thinking Abnormally) have decided that the whole Groundhog Day thing is traumatizing to Punxatawny Phil, America’s most famous groundhog celebrity. The PETArds (hey, sue me, I’m not the White House Press Secretary) are suggesting that Phil be replaced with a robotic counterpart, reasoning that the Groundhog Day ceremony is traumatic. With all those cameras flashing and people screaming, some suggest that all this fanfare is cruel and unsettling to the groundhog. You know what else is cruel and unsettling? Mother Nature! I concede that there is potential for animal abuse here, and groundhog handlers have been known to drop the ball. I remind you of Canada’s big groundhog scandal five or ten years ago, “Wiarton Willliegate,” wherein the town fathers of Wiarton, Ontario, accidentally murdered Willie, their albino groundhog weather animal, under suspicious circumstances. I can’t remember all the details, but there was a big cover up. Documents were shredded, drugs and alcohol were involved, child pornography was found on the deceased groundhog’s computer; it was a mess. Are we taking advantage of poor defenseless creatures here? I think not. I believe some of the responsibility lies with the animals themselves. I still maintain that Willie was a crack head. Phil has been perfectly willing to accept his town financed, solar-heated, cable-ready hibernation chamber, along with all the perks and endorsements associated with being America’s most popular groundhog weather forecaster, including but not limited to a monthly $500 credit at Whole Foods, and part ownership of a local carrot farm. If, in the course of his forecasting duties, he is forced to endure some of the indignities of celebrity, well, suck it up mister! If some drug-addled spectator, unhappy with the prospect of more than six weeks of winter should hurl a beer bottle at our furry rodent messenger, shrug it off. It happens to rock stars all the time. You should try being a weatherman in Buffalo … those guys constantly get death threats and abuse … You don’t hear any of them complaining.




Toyota was always considered to be one of the best automakers, so what happened? Problems with the accelerators on some of their vehicles have prompted a major recall and I just heard that the Japanese automaker has suffered over $1 Billion in lost sales because of the problem. Ouch. I’d still rather have a Toyota than one of those overpriced stool softeners on wheels that GM for so many years produced.



Last night, The New Orleans Saints beat the unstoppable Peyton Manning and the Indianapolis Colts 31-17 in Superbowl XLIV, whatever number that is. Though I didn’t have a favorite going into the game, I think the Saints were the underdogs and, coupled with all the challenges that New Orleans has faced since Hurricane Katrina practically washed it off the map, I’m glad they came from behind to win so decisively. I watched The Who perform during the halftime show, and they sounded pretty good. I’m not a big Who fan, but I really like the “Who’s Next” and “Quadraphenia” albums. It‘s funny, because the other night I watched about fifteen minutes of a Who concert filmed at the Isle of Wight concert back in the Seventies. I think they sounded better last night. Back in 1977 when I was still “in university” as the Canadians say, I drove from Hartford Connecticut to Boston to see The Who perform. After waiting an awfully long time for them to come on, I heard them play one song, and then announce that they could not play anymore because wild man (and soon to be deceased) drummer Keith Moon “had the flu”. Moon was so drunk and wasted that he could hardly hold his drum sticks. I think he even threw up on his drum set, although we were too far away to see. The Boston audience was not amused, and there was a near riot. While there was a makeup concert scheduled, I never did get to see them perform live. Having watched some of the Isle of Wight concert, I’m not that disappointed. I guess Keith Moon and “Wiarton Willie” have something in common .

I can’t say it enough … showbiz ain’t pretty.



Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2010 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 2/1/10

I watched the Grammys tonight, so this report is a rant about today’s pop music, again. First of all, let me say I really like a lot of pop music. Realizing as I do that every generation thinks the music of the succeeding or preceding generation sucks, I still maintain that much of today’s pop music is truly horrible. I don’t particularly care for popular music from the 40’s or 50’s, but at least there was some variety, some hooks, some creativity. Though I never liked “Teen Angel”, I could differentiate it from “Leader of the Pack”. Whatever genre, from “hard” rock, to rap, to easy listening, today’s popular songs remind me of the soul-less housing developments north of Toronto; every house evenly spaced, exactly the same, and without even a trace of individuality … function and economy to the complete exclusion of form. It’s as if the all the people producing this music decided on one voice, one backbeat, one synthesized sound, and one theme. This style was a big hit with our main demographic, so let’s stay exactly in the middle of the box. The other day I found myself humming along to the song “Crimson and Clover” by Tommy James and the Shondells. I hated that song when it came out over thirty years ago, but flipping around the dial, that was a refreshing change over the songs on all the other stations. Go figure! This, along with my comment in last week’s report about Justin Timberlake likely has most of you wondering about my qualifications to judge music. Nevertheless, as an aspiring, hopefully growing songwriter, I am always interested in the music of the present generation. I’m sorry, but if Beyonce, Kanye West, or Taylor Swift are the hot new acts, I say ptoohey!




In my opinion, a pop song should have at least one of two things going for it. Either it should have a serious musical hook (like “Super Freak” by the king of punk funk, Rick “Cleopatra” James), or it should tell an interesting story. Does anybody remember a song called “Timothy” which was a pop hit back I think in the late 70s? That song is about some guys who eat their donkey to survive. Now THAT is story telling … a little sick but interesting nonetheless. Brief aside, I actually saw the band who did that song, years ago in a bar called the Pickle Barrel, somewhere in Vermont. I listened to their whole set in this noisy bar and “Timothy” was their big finale. Talk about your one hit wonders … sentenced to an endless stream of bar dates, and your big hit, the one you do to leave ‘em smiling, is a song about eating a donkey. I bet Mariah Carey never does a song about killing and eating a pack animal. Proof positive that entertainment is not a pretty business. Perhaps those will be my new benchmarks for a good popular song … violent or disgusting. And no, I don’t condone rappers who brag about killing cops, or about abusing their women, but the seemy, lurid side of life can inspire interesting lyrics. Some unique pop tunes I recall from the pop music past: “D.O.A.”, about the dying victim of a car wreck, “Luca” by Suzanne Vega, about child abuse, “Fast Car” by Tracey Chapman, or even “Love Child” by Diana Ross and the Supremes. Everybody knows the song “Mr. Bojangles”? On the surface, it sounds like a touching story about a New Orleans street dancer, and countless singers have covered it. According to singer songwriter David Bromberg, who used to play with Jerry Jeff Walker, the guy who wrote the song, the story is true. Walker wrote “Mr. Bojangles” after some time in jail with the subject. Stripped down to the bare facts, this song is a story, written by a hung over drunk, in jail, about a drunk who shared his jail cell. Charming. One of the discarded lyrics from this song: “I met a man Bojangles, and he stunk real bad, covered in puke”. I think that most (not all) good songs, and probably most good art, comes from a hard place, or at least from genuine life experience.



A moment of silence for J.D. Salinger, author of “Catcher in the Rye” (required reading in most high schools) who died last week. That was a good book.


Last night I held Aladdin's lamp
And so I wished that I could stay
Before the thing could answer me
Well, someone came and took the lamp away
I looked around, a lousy candle's all I found

Well, you don't know what we can find
Why don't you come with me little girl
On a magic carpet ride
Well, you don't know what we can see
Why don't you tell your dreams to me
Fantasy will set you free
Close your eyes girl
Look inside girl
Let the sound take you away
- From the song “Magic Carpet Ride” by Steppenwolf



I want that magic carpet back.



Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2010 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED