I did my first business flying in 1968, traveling from San Francisco to Burbank and Los Angeles and back again. I was 30 years old and had never been on a plane before. You can imagine my thoughts as I boarded my first PSA flight. I kept the ticket in a scrap book and still have it after all these years. The flight cost $19.50 one way. Drinks were free, it was like flying to heaven and back again. Those flights set the hook.

Seven or eight years later I decided that I wanted to see the world, and was willing to do whatever relocating was necessary to accomodate that desire. Little did I know I was creating a disease. It became almost an addiction. My business flew me here, there and everywhere amassing flight miles by the thousands so I could redeem them for more flights. I earned over a million miles on Pan Am, and lost 600K miles when they folded. I earned over 500K miles on Singapore Air, at least a million miles on United and currently have 250K miles in the UA Bank.

Flying in the early days was wonderful. The passengers were mostly courteous and polite and always dressed like it was Sunday. Attendants were always courteous, helpful and dorp-dead gorgeous. (I know that is a sexist, non-PC statement, but I stand by the fact that it is what made flying a truely joyful experience.)

It wasn’t long before the ACLU got involved and changed everything “for the better” they insisted. Stewards started showing up, dress codes began to relax, and standards were thrown out the window, at 35,000Ft.. By 1985 flying became a drudge, the ACLU had suceeded in ruining the industry. In the 1990’s my flying was limited to short hops; long international flights became a thing of the past. People pushing and shoving and elbowing their way to and from their seats took all the pleasure out of travel. Tank tops, shorts and flip-flops became the norm, many passengers were drunk and disorderly and stewards and stewardesses became worn and haggard. The joy was gone.

In spite of it all I still want to use my 250,000 miles for one last First Class Flight to somewhere I have never been before. As pompus as it sounds, my wife and I can’t think of a place that satisfies the criteria.

Movie celebrities and music celebraties, by definition, are successful, high profile people. They have earned a star in the firmament. I have nothing but respect for the efforts of Meryl Streep, Jennifer Lawrence, George Clooney, Sheryl Crow, The Dixie Chicks and others. They have entertained me, made me laugh, made me cry, and have put broad smiles on my face, while climbing their respective ladders of artistic success.

For some reason, however they seem to think that celebrity seems to somehow, translate directly to the political arena. All’s fair, and they have every right to use their bully pulpit to expound on whatever topics they feel are important to them. We all, somehow, seem to hang on their words and thoughts as if they were speaking to us only, the way that movies and songs seem to be acted and sung, just for us.

Sometimes, however, which is true of everyone, celebrities exceed their mental limitations. Either they are still acting, or singing when they promote politicians, or they just lose all sense of reality and overlook truth and conscience, to seek their goals of  “First Black President” or “First Woman President” or “Woman of the Year”. There has already been a “First Actor President”, but oddly enough celebrities didn’t support him.

I have noticed, over the decades, that celebrities are notorious losers and get it wrong all to often, when it comes to Presidential Nominee endorsement. I offer 1980 to 1988 and the last eight years  as proof of my assertion.

September 2, 1945, aboard the USS Missouri in Tokyo Bay

Progressive liberal historians are trying to rewrite history and paint the United States as the bad guys for the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, as witnessed by Obama’s recent trip to Nagasaki where he bowed and scraped and all but apologized to the Japanese.

September 2, 1945 is a day that most people today don’t remember, but I remember it like it was yesterday. WWII should have ended with the end of the fighting in Europe, and certainly should have ended April 1, 1945 when American Troops landed on Okinawa (next step Japan). At that time, the Japanese knew that the Allied Powers would eventually win the war.

Allied troops (American, Australian, British) were worn out and tired from four plus years of continuous, Pacific Theater, fighting and America wanted to bring it’s heros home and put an honorable end to hostilities, but the maniacal Emperor Hirohito decided to “Fight to the last man”, (and there were millions left). President Truman and Congress rightly decided that it was time to make the Kamakazi mentality Japanese see the light, and on August 6, 1945 dropped the Atomic Bomb (Little Boy) on Hiroshima. Truman again asked Japan to surrender honorably or suffer futher consequences. Hirohito stood by his “To the Last Man” orders. Three days later the Nitrogen Bomb (Fat Boy) was dropped on Nagasaki, and again Truman called for unconditional surrender. Astonishingly, it took TWO horrendous bombings for Japan to get the message.

Japan announced its surrender on August 15, 1945 and on September 2, 1945, boarded the USS Missouri for the surrender signing ceremony. Hirohito didn’t have the balls to show, and instead sent his Foreign Affairs Minister, and some minor dignitaries, in their funny little top hats, to sign the historic documents.

When remembering this day, take the time to get the facts straight. Don’t believe your liberal, abrogated, and distorted history books, the truth can be found elsewhere. Take the time to learn the truth about this great country of ours.

Note: Hirohito lived on in happy retirement until 1989 (44 more years).

It was refreshing to see the nineteen year old Lilly King perform on the Olympic Stage, swimming the 100 meter breast stroke. She has obviously worked very hard to get to the Olympic podium, along with all of her clean team mates and it was wonderful to see her lead the way in voting against those who cheat in the athletic endeavor.

For so long we have stood by and watched straight, clean athletes lose to the likes of Soviet Russia, now the Russian Federation; A-Rod, Lance Armstrong, Jose Canseco to name a few. Finally the Olympics has stood up and recognized the issue and dealt with the Russian Federation, and little Lilly King stood up and dealt with one that slipped through the net.

It wasn’t just finger wagging either, it was putting you mojo where your mouth is.

“We just wanted to show that you can be clean and win.” What a concept. Swin on Lilly.

I have confessed before and I say it again I am hooked on my Solitaire App. My App, has a flaw, in that every time I want a new game I have to wait for an advertisement to load, or an ⊗ to appear so I can blip the ad an move on. The more I play, the more the ads intrigue me, sometimes to the point of distraction.

I know, or at least I think I know, that there are people who go to school who learn how to make  the ads, and all of the tricks of the trade that goes with doing it. They probably  make a decent salary doing it. As time has gone on, watching the ad intros (the hook before the ⊗ appears) I have noticed certian commonalities, and have named and catagorized them.

1. The “No Shows“. The No Shows are the ones where the ⊗ appears before the ad actually appears. A quick blip on the ⊗, and on you go to the next game, never having seen the ad. I started feeling sorry for these advertisers. Here they have paid their money and not even so much as a name, let alone a product appears. I haven’t felt sorry enough, for them, to wait for their ads to appear, however.
2. The “Beat the Clocks”. These ads have a count down circle, usually in the upper right hand corner, that counts down the seconds before the ⊗ appears. What I do, is hover my index finger over the circle and pounce on the ⊗ the split second it appears. As I hover, my hand covers the ad so I don’t get the message.
3. The “Teasers“. The “Teasers” immediately flash pictures of attractive women in attractive clothing for a few sconds before the ⊗ appears. I enjoy the pictures of the attractive women, but I have no desire to purchase, so again I hover over the spot where I am expecting the ⊗ appear and blip immediately, complementing my self on my choice of ⊗ locations if I am correct.
4. The “Wierdos“. These are the, usually small, ads that appear immediately and have a wierd tic. These are the ads that start out “This is what your insurance company hopes no one ever figures out”. The ‘tics’ vary from flowers on wallpaper moving around, to corners flapping to entice you to go on, to Trump like haircuts flopping around on a particularly ugly woman’s head. I haven’t figured these out yet, but i know they are cheaply produced, and therefore a waste of my time to get involved. I have all the insurance I need anyway.
5. The “Intrepid Car Companies”. Why would I watch a Car ad, in-between solitaire games when; a. I have no interest in buying a car,  and b. They are shown ad naseum during prime time TV. What are they thinking.
6. The “Broken Reocrds”. Today I have had one ad, and insurance ad, that shows a cat with a old leather aviators cap, on a vespa, motoring down a country road. It has come back atleast 25 or thirty times just today. Why, if I reject it once, does it keep coming back? They must be hoping that if they really piss me off, I’ll buy whatever it is they are selling.

Absolutely insane. It must work, it is on every day. Who in their right mind, impulse buys a car or insusrance anyway?

June 6, 1944 all hell broke loose on the Normandy Beaches. Years of planning, thousands of men, hundred of thousands of tons of equipment all came together on that overcast morning as we began our final push to Berlin and the end of WWII. Two Thousand five hundred American soldiers willingly gave their lives that day in the name of freedom and democracy.

I was on a business trip in Amsterdam on June 10th 1984, waiting for my flight at Schipol Airport, Business Class Lounge. I noticed six or eight men with their wives talking, laughing and having a good time. They were obviously Americans and all appeared in their late fifties early sixties. I was curious, so I went over to the group and asked, “What’s the occaision fellas?”

“We came for the 40th celebration of the D-Day landings, we come every ten years,” a jocular, rosy faced man said.

I walked up to him and I said, “I’d like to shake your hand and thank you all for what you did that day. I was six years old at the time and I remember that day like it was yesterday.” They all got up and we all shook hands. “How old were you when you landed Sir?” I asked one of them.

“I was seventeen, lied about my age, had to get over here and kill the hun,” he proudly said; I smiled knowingly.

I thanked them all again, told them to enjoy themselves and went back to my seat. I kept watching them having so much fun and enjoying themselves I couldn’t help but think what marvelous people they were. I felt so proud to be an American that day. I’ll never forget.

I was born the year WWII started and was seven years old when it ended. I remember well, after dinner, Dad would lay out the front page of the Daily Paper and and show us the progress maps, and explain to us what was going on. The maps showed the front lines, where the various German and Allied Armies were, and how much the lines had changed that day. One very vivid time was when Hitler ordered the Battle of the Bulge, and we all held our breath until the Allied Armies finally held at Bastone and started to drive the Nazis back. It was a fearful time, a time for reflection and a time to honor the men and women who were fignting and had been there four long years without seeing their families and loved ones.

My wife and I took a trip to the Normandy Beaches and toured the battle fields and museums and though the beaches were calm and beautiful that day I knew that all hell had broken loose June 6, 1944 and the tides ran red with American, British and Canadian blood . We came upon the Normandy Memorial Cemetery and I still remember being awe struck by how many graves there were. I had an 8mm camera and started filming the scene before me. As I panned the camera I was struck with an emotion I had never had before. I began to weep as the camera moved and before I knew it, I was sobbing uncontrollably. Each Memorial Day since, I remember that day, the thousands of Grave Stones, the solemnity of the moment.

You men who gave your lives for me in that war and all other conflicts, I praise you, I pray for you, give you my thanks. I am in your unending debt.