The Parents' 60th Anniversary Redux

Norman Gentle (& Ayhan) In CT News-Times

The Brookfield, Conn., News-Times Post wrote a rousing profile of Norman Gentle and his first single "Bitch Slap!" produced by Ayhan Sahin and Dennis DelGaudio, complete with a huge photo on the front page of the Diversions section from the video shoot. Click to read the whole kit and kaboodle. Nice job!

Breakfast Cereals: A Life-Long Staple

As a kid growing up in the mid-1970s, the weekday morning ritual revolved around one critical decision: Which breakfast cereal is going to ignite my taste buds and amp me with enough sugar to get the day going?

During that time—truly the golden era for breakfast cereals—leading companies Post, Quaker Oats, General Mills and Kellogg’s knew that the mere taste of wheat, corn or oats saturated with sugar and splashed with milk wasn’t enough to seduce us kids, so mascots were created to assist in branding. Among the first were the Rice Krispies elves in 1953, followed by Tony the Tiger and the Trix Rabbit... all pretty good childhood friends of mine.

Manufacturers also began to include “prizes” inside the boxes. Among the most precious I recall are a 45 record by The Archies that you cut from the back of Super Sugar Crisp (see actual ad on box at right) and played on a phonograph; and a mail-in for a Banana Splits 45 (keen advertising for the Saturday morning cartoon, created by Kellogg’s). Amazingly, I still own the Splits’ single.

But the most valued prize came from my favorite cereal ever, Quisp, which offered a 12-inch cloth doll of its trademark cross-eyed space alien. The cost: two box tops and 75 cents. I slept with that critter alongside my Humpty Dumpty doll for years, even though it was about as plush as a box of cereal itself. Sadly, one day my mean older brother Chris and I got into a tussle and he grabbed Quisp by his propeller and tore my pal to pieces. My mamer wasn’t one for sentimentality, so he soon flew away to the landfill. Sadly, today a Quisp doll sells on ebay for $300. Thanks, mamer Evelyn!

Ah, for the days of King Vitaman (tasted like tree bark, but shaped like crowns!) and Kaboom (tasted like sweet Clorox, but fun colors!) and so many others that have succumbed to the tastemakers of time. Even now, whenever I travel abroad, among my stops is the cereal aisle of groceries to study their breakfast heroes—and how U.S. brands are uniquely marketed overseas. I suppose I've just realized: I am a cereal fetishist. Cool.And I’m certainly not alone. Homages to breakfast cereals throughout time inundate the web—from the myriad of Captain Crunch specialties (above) to du jour products like Mr. T or Hannah Montana—(click here, here and here for boffo sites), with tons of history, photos of evolving brands, commercials and trivia. That explains how I’ve just spent the last four hours on a Saturday afternoon exploring and reflecting on, uh, cereal.

Even as an adult, I’ve never considered buying a grown-up cereal; I mean, why deliberately eat cardboard when crunchy sugared saucers are so much fun? My favorite in modern times is Cinnamon Toast Crunch, followed by our handy countdown below. If gin and Trix only mixed, I’d truly have a breakfast of champions... for every meal. Cheerio!

And now... the No. 1 breakfast cereal of all time: Quisp!The official runners-up...The choca-faves...Artificially flavored fruit, anyone?
Whole-grain, with a heaving helping of sugar, thank you...
And last but not least, the ever-evolving, timeless Lucky Charms...(Photo collages: The Smoking Nun)

Happy Pride Weekend!

It's good to be gay. I might have been a real asshole if I were straight.

Census Report: Baseball Bats & Cock Fights

The Washington Post published an amusing if not sensational article last Sunday about the hazards of working for the U.S. Census Bureau, replete with robberies, carjackings, rabid dogs, baseball bats and hammers.

“This is the scary season for the nation’s census takers,” it began, who have "encountered vitriol, menace and flashes of violence, been shot at with pellet guns, confronted with pickaxes and crossbows (and) had patio tables thrown their way. They have been bitten by pit bulls and chased by packs of snarling dogs. Being cursed at seems part of the job description.”

In all, the article reports a whopping 409 threats or assaults on Census workers—more than double the 181 incidents reported in 2000.

Amid the Post’s histrionics, the New York Times published its own version of the story—and in typical fashion with the new generation of subjective young reporters, its conclusion was precisely the opposite: “Despite fears of hostility toward the federal government, incidents involving census workers have been relatively few,” the Times said. “Since April, the bureau has logged 430 incidents against enumerators... Ten workers were robbed, one was bitten by a duck and another by a rooster.”

Mind you, I have dealt with my fair share of aggression since I began working for the Census Bureau in February—but nothing that’s created such overt fear that I’d run like a baby to file a report. I’ve had doors slammed in my face mid-sentence, heard “fuck the government and fuck you,” folks standing on the other side of the door literally telling me “no one is home” as soon as they hear the word “census,” and plenty of haughty doormen who wave me away dismissively, despite the fact that it’s federal law that they let me in.

Come on people! Grow a spine, laugh it off, use common sense, be resourceful… and stop whining. Granted, I’ve avoided a duck attack, but are we really such a delicate society that every time someone tells us where to go, it requires a paper trail? I’m damn happy to have earned a living for the past four months; a few “fuck offs” aren’t about to deter me.

There’s a guy who said in the Post story, “There’s so much anger and bitterness with people losing their homes and their jobs. They’re not too fond of the government.” I get it. I lost my career job in the midst of a gruesome economy—but less because of the fed’s shortcomings than a shortsighted corporation whose bottom line was more precious than the quality of its product.

You’d think the pepes pointing fingers at the government would recognize that temp Census staffers are in the same boat: displaced American brethren who also lost their jobs and are scrambling to stay afloat as hourly employees.

In any case, I thankfully hang on with my ever-evolving role here in Brooklyn—this week marked four solid months of employment—currently aiding Quality Control to follow up on unfinished and suspect cases. Just after July 4, a whole new operation launches, where my local census office will hire yet another round of new staffers to verify much of the work of the previous crew of more than 700, whose results were apparently spotty enough to mandate a re-do. If I’m fortunate, I’ll be called upon for service, since I was on call as a floater during that entire previous operation. At the time, that felt mighty tentative; now it could be my saving grace.

One precious day at a time. That’s really the best any of can hope for, isn’t it?

Happy Birthday Dave Grusin!

The acclaimed Oscar- and Grammy-winning jazz pianist and composer turns 76 today! Here, with Tinatin at his Iridium gig in New York this past April.

Happy Birthday Caroline

With Leonard in town for a fabulous encore of Karine Hannah at Metropolitan Room (see below), we made a first stop by Caroline L's birthday party in the courtyard of her Central Park West digs. Saw Liz D. for the third time this week... if three's a charm, then let's cross fingers for good news: Our proposal for her memoir "Joyride" is currently with a dozen publishers. Off to the races!With her baby, Mumbai.It's hard to miss Caroline in lime standing in the distance.Onward to Karine's show!

Karine Hannah Wows Metropolitan Room

It was a thrill a minute as dear Karine Hannah returned to New York's Metropolitan Room for a set of 1970s/early 1980s "AM Radio" favorites, all originally sung by dudes. As always, her voice rattled the rafters and tickled the tiles—her amazing ability to sing with robust force and then the utmost subtlety makes her one of the finest vocalists I have ever heard. I cried a river, as usual.Above, Sandra Bernhard was in the house for the show (bless her heart, she forgot to change out of her nightgown); below, Leonard traveled from the Hamptons to join Ayhan & meese for some Karine lovin'.Tinatin—and her mom, visiting from Moscow, were also in on the fun.Below, Karine shows off those pipes that I treasure, with the gorgeous "C'est La Vie."And here, Dan Hill's classic "Sometimes When We Touch."(B&W photos: Mike Caffrey)