Goodnight, Sweet Prince

Even in his later years, hunched over a cane, age did not appear to de-fang him. Don Rickles was still quick with his quips, even if the quips came quickly to him because he shot them out every day for six decades, quick with his many facial expressions of disgust and disappointment.

His reactions to audience reactions often brought his jokes from the barely memorable to the legendary. Rarely has a performer conveyed so much with the mere flicker of a expression change.

Don Rickles died today. The stand-up comic was 90, a month shy of his 91st birthday, but he was rarely shy. (I’ll be here all night folks, thanks.)

His stand-up act, till his last days, was remarkable, for someone past age 90 or not even 19, really: it was always unscripted. Yes, he knew what “insults” he was most likely going to deploy “against” audience members, and he knew that somehow he was going to convey that he was on the audience member’s side and not punching down at them. That was the extent of the notes he carried on stage with him. It was a tightrope act.

“If I were to insult people and mean it, that wouldn’t be funny. There is a difference between an actual insult” and doing that, he often stated.
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25 Million Euros for a Whistleblower? Help #OpFOQ Rescue Two Dozen Hostages

Twenty-five lives are at stake.

In less than a week, #OpFOQ has learned more than any other interested party has learned about two dozen hostages kidnapped in December 2015 in Iraq in more than eleven months. #OpFOQ is a campaign to focus attention on this mass kidnapping, to force the government of Iran to divulge what it knows about the whereabouts and health of the Qatari hostages, and to earn the freedom of the hostages.

On March 27, #OpFOQ learned that at least one of the hostages is still alive and published this information along with a photograph. This represented the first break in the case since two hostages were freed in April 2016.

On March 29, the #OpFOQ campaign published a Tweet without clarification that further established that it is acquiring information about the hostage situation. It read: “We have learned of a persistent rumor that a Qatari national maybe behind the kidnappings. Our intel suggest this is entirely false.” No further comment has been posted on Twitter and no elaboration has been publicly offered to journalists.
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Lighting out For ‘The Woods’

We called it “The Woods.” Well, I did. Sometimes, I referred to it as a “forest,” which it most certainly was not. Our backyard ended at a line of trees and dross beneath them; the lightly manicured, suburban lawn did not grow beyond that line, despite my teen-aged lawn mowing efforts to expand the lawn by clearing the dead leaves and branches away. That tight boundary made The Woods appear all the more elemental, foreign, forbidding, and, of course, inviting.

There was nothing truly elemental or extra natural about The Woods, though; it was not even a particularly non-developed land that surrounded our development. High tension power lines that fed electricity to our thousand-house neighborhood ran along an unpaved road about three football fields away from our back door; thus, the three-hundred-yard-deep stretch of trees that ran the entire backside of the neighborhood, from the Metro-North train tracks along the Hudson River on up and away from the river, merely existed to separate us from the taller-than-average power poles.
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