He Left Me Laughing

1988 in Sacramento, where his career took off (WSJ)"His
on-air presence in Sacramento was a lot more comedic."

I started listening to Rush Limbaugh fairly late in his career, not so much for his political views but for the entertainment.

During the George W. Bush Administration late-night comedy, including Saturday Night Live, became tiresome, vicious, and single-note, bashing the President and his supporters at every turn. Indeed, some bits were funny, but going after Republicans and their families personally while ignoring the foibles of Democrats was a sea-change from the light-hearted, even-handed joshing of Johnny Carson, Jay Leno, and the younger David Letterman.

Those were the 21st century rules of comedy, I supposed, and when different politicians took over they would become the objects of mockery. However, when the Democrats swept Washington in 2008, powerless Republicans like Trent Lott and Sarah Palin continued to be the targets of scorn. Comedians refused to pick the Democrats' low-hanging fruit, such as President Obama's verbal miscues when he was off Teleprompter and Vice-President Biden's provable history of creepy behavior.

So I turned to Rush Limbaugh. His political commentary was interspersed with comic bits that you couldn't hear anywhere else; the refusal of the entertainment and media industries to "speak truth to power" when their guys were in charge only made him more popular.

Rush Limbaugh has been recognized by supporters and detractors alike as the founding father of conservative talk-radio. He spoke insightfully about politics, but it was his skill as an entertainer that made him unique. R.I.P.

The Integrity of Those Times

Two giants of San Francisco history:
Lon Simmons and Herb Caen (SF Chronicle 1962 photo)

In the front of his house, before his parents tore it down to construct a small apartment building, I played basketball with cousin Leonard. We turned the "transistor" radio to its maximum volume so that we could hear Lon Simmons do the play-by-play for San Francisco Giants games while we practiced.

In early '60's Hawaii all network television was tape-delayed one week, but we could get Giants games live on the radio. (Transmitting sound to and from the Mainland was made possible by undersea cables. Long-distance telephone calls were very expensive; one could only imagine how much it cost to do a three-hour broadcast.)

Lon Simmons had a deep, even baritone. Unlike the announcers of today, he didn't talk quickly or loudly. While he did probably root for the Giants and 49ers, one could not be absolutely sure. Like the news anchors and broadcasters of the black-and-white era, he kept overt bias out of his voice.

Lon Simmons, 91, died on Easter Sunday in Daly City. I miss him, and the integrity of those times.

Lon at 90

When the Giants clinched the World Series in 2010:

From the days I first heard gravelly-voiced Lon Simmons broadcast Giants (and 49ers) games thousands of miles away to my little Sony transistor radio in Honolulu, I’ve waited, then stopped waiting, for this moment. With little warning it’s here, followed by the shouts and tears.

Last night Lon Simmons celebrated his 90th birthday by throwing out the first pitch at AT&T Park. The ball had good initial velocity but fell a bit short, a phenomenon we aging males are familiar with.

Congratulations to Lon Simmons, and thanks for many happy summer afternoons of listening about Willie, Willie, Juan, Orlando, Felipe, Matty, Jesus, and the rest of the gang.

Rush to Judgment

I enjoy listening to Rush Limbaugh. I also enjoy listening to Bill Maher. Though they're at opposite ends of the political spectrum (disclosure: my politics are closer to Limbaugh than Maher), both often come up with insights that never occurred to me.

Rush Limbaugh and Bill Maher are interesting, witty, and very rude, even offensive. They are comic entertainers.

Our culture has long treated comedy as a circumscribed area--much like smoking lounges or red light districts--where people can make the most politically incorrect--racist, sexist, ageist, and any other "ist" one can think of--statements and not be sanctioned. We need safety valves for the juvenile feelings that all of us keep hidden. These outlets have historically been open to everyone, despite efforts to shut them down by one side or the other.

That said, Rush Limbaugh should not have made personally pejorative remarks about Georgetown law student Sandra Fluke. Ms. Fluke had argued before a Democratic Congressional gathering that contraceptive services be provided free to women students, including those who attend Catholic institutions. There are strong First Amendment arguments, as well as arguments about the proper role of government, against her position.

Instead Rush Limbaugh took her statement that "contraception can cost a woman over $3,000 during law school" and riffed on Ms. Fluke's sex life. After the understandable outcry, he apologized.

But an apology is not good enough for his detractors. They're going after his advertisers. They're petitioning the FCC to remove him from the air. Now there's a counter-petition to remove Bill Maher from HBO. (Over the years there have been many efforts to silence Bill Maher; "Bill Maher petition" has over three million Google hits.)

IMHO, we should keep them both on the air. They stimulate the national dialogue, and if they cross the line, their own causes will be hurt much worse than their victims. © 2012 Stephen Yuen

It Stinks

This post is about one of my worst stock investments.

New York sports fans are miffed about the contract dispute between Time Warner and MSG Network. In order to get their fix of "Lin-sanity" about two million viewers have had to go to sports bars or friends' homes with DirecTV or Cablevision subcriptions.

Dialogue from today's CNBC Squawk Box:

CNBC anchor David Faber: "If you have Time Warner, by the way, you're going to have to find [Knicks games] on the radio. I had to actually go out and buy an AM radio. It's been 48 days, 17 games, that have so far been missed by fans of the Knicks."

CNBC anchor Melissa Lee: "David, where do you even buy a radio these days...Radio Shack?"

David Faber: "Yeah, yeah, you can go to Radio Shack, you gotta go back into the back room." [Far away gesture with hands]

Melissa Lee: "Dust them off? Cobwebs?" [Brushing away motion]

David Faber: "It's 1980's, 1990's inventory." [Hilarity ensues.]

I feel bad enough about my Radio Shack investment. Now it's the subject of gratuitous mockery on CNBC. (I bought some RSH last May because I thought that they were one of the few electronics retailers who knew what they were doing. Boy, was I wrong.)

RSH has dropped nearly 60% since I bought it.

The comment about radios in the back room reminds me of an old joke about accounting inventory methods:

FIFO - First-in, first-out
LIFO - Last-in, first-out
FISH - First-in, still here

Not laughing so hard when it happens to you.

Harry Kalas, R.I.P.

Another fixture from my childhood is gone. Phillies sportscaster Harry Kalas died yesterday.

Harry Kalas got his start in 1962, broadcasting Triple-A baseball games from the old Honolulu Stadium. His sonorous voice, played over the tinny Sony transistor radio hidden beneath my pillow, would lull me to sleep on the nights when the Hawaii Islanders were losing big. But when sluggers Stan Palys or Carlos Bernier came to the plate in a close game, sleep was futile. There was no greater thrill to these young ears than Harry exclaiming, “There’s a hi-i-igh drive to left field, it’s going…going…gone!” (His trademark “outta here” was coined when he got to Philadelphia.)

When the baseball season was pau, Harry Kalas would do the play-by-play for Honolulu’s most popular sport, high school football. He was at the mike as we excitedly followed the high school career of Punahou’s Charlie Wedemeyer, Hawaii’s greatest football player of the Sixties. Charlie Wedemeyer was a triple-threat quarterback—yes, he could even kick—and despite being under six feet tall could win games single-handed for the Buff and the Blue. (Charlie Wedemeyer was tragically afflicted by Lou Gehrig’s disease, and a TV movie was made about his life.)

Another outstanding athlete from that era was Norm Chow, who became an offensive coordinator for major college football teams as well as the Tennessee Titans. Harry Kalas would broadcast the high school basketball games (“Chow turns and shoots…it’s go-o-o-d!”), painting vivid suspenseful word pictures, but Punahou could never quite overcome the taller Kam Warriors.

During the early Sixties Hawaiian sports fans were fortunate to be able to listen to Harry Kalas year round. Thanks, Harry, for the memories. © 2009 Stephen Yuen