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Ladies and gentleman, let's wrap up the weekend with, from the 1975-76 Philadelphia 76ers game program, the Worst Basketball Action Shot Ever:

If you can ignore the hair, note the defensive exertion of the UCLA guy- arms down, a look of mild concern on his face, no effort to, you know, play defense. The LaSalle guy appears not to know what to do with his right arm. Both are wearing long pants. Yes, this screams "authentic."

Authentic is, of course, that for which the advertiser, Mitchell and Ness, later became quite well known.

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You know I'm busy, bored, pressed for time, or tired when the scans break out again, and again, and again.

Like this from 1959:

It's the White Guys In Suits Film Festival! You look at this ad, you're watching every one of these. In suit and tie, naturally.

From 1966:

Dammit, woman! I want Durkee's Famous Sauce! That's the last time I warn you!

And you know it's good because it's "Zexty"!

And from 1979:

Leif Garrett, "The Hippest." "Actor! Singer! Sensation!" "One-of-a-kind superstar!" Brooke Shields, Marie Osmond, Flip Wilson, and Pink Lady.

Words fail. This HAS to be made available on DVD immediately.

Enough for now.

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What time is it? Late. So more random nostalgia and sarcasm.

Check out this 1964 ad for a Youngstown, OH TV station, with a young movie show host in a classy WFMJ sweatshirt:

Whatever happened to him? Oh, look, here he is:

He's one of Philadelphia's longest-lasting news anchors, first with channel 6 and now at channel 3- his whole story's here, and while they say he worked in Youngstown, the part where he's hosting movies is mercifully left out.

More "where were they then?", this time in the sports department from 1976 in St. Louis. Check out the outfits on these guys:

Dewayne Staats has been a major league announcer for a long time, most recently with the Tampa Bay Devil Rays and with the Astros, Cubs, Yankees, and nationally for ESPN before that. Here he is now, sans leisure suit:

He probably still has the leisure suit in the deepest recesses of his closet.

Al Hrabosky was, of course, at the time one of baseball's most notorious characters, the Mad Hungarian, and slid right into the broadcast booth upon retirement. He's been doing the Cardinals games since 1985:

Kinda the same, actually, just gray and without the mustache and beard.

In 1974, in Rochester, NY, you watched these guys or got your legs broken:

The third guy didn't get the memo to scowl for the camera. The others are auditioning for "Police Story."

Back then, in Buffalo, you watched bowling every night, whether you wanted to or not:

Every city had bowling on TV. Regular folks bowling for cash prizes. (In Boston, it ws "Candlepins for Cash." In most cities, there was at least "Bowling for Dollars") That was entertainment. And then, at some point, it all went away. DId the public all decide at the same time that they'd had enough? How did that work?

Finally, this inexplicable 1976 news ad:

Nobody does what? Drive one of those bike-drawn rickshaws in a trenchcoat? What were they thinking? Was that supposed to make people want to watch Newsbeat?

(Incidentally, Auble's still around. Ford retired in '05 after a long career anchoring on channels 5 and 2. I guess providing an on-call rickshaw business is a good way to make it in TV news.)

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In one 24 hour period, I heard my name mentioned twice on big-time radio- once on Deminski and Doyle's show on Live 97.1 Free FM/Detroit Tuesday afternoon and the other on Opie and Anthony's show this morning. This is important because it props up what's left of my fragile ego and makes me (mistakenly) think that I'm in some measure a mover, a shaker, a playa. In reality, it's slightly above getting your face on the video board at a ballgame when they scan the crowd or do the "Kiss Cam" thing. But I appreciate it, and I heartily encourage all radio and TV personalities to mention my full name, in a positive or at least neutral manner, of course, several times daily. Sure, you'll confuse the hell out of your listeners, but there'll be some powerful karmic credits coming to you for it. Extra credit for mentioning AllAccess.com, and eligibility for sainthood for plugging pmsimon.com.

And if it makes some pathetic wretch at the margins of show business feel like he's not entirely anonymous for a few seconds, who can argue with that? It's so charitable, it's practically tax-deductible.

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On a long day when I was the only person holding down the fort at All Access, what better way to end it than with a fond memory of one of the very worst moments in television history. February 4, 1978:

Part 2 of a two-parter. Rerun, a bootleg tape of a Doobie Brothers concert, a huge cassette recorder... if the entire band, Rerun, Dwayne, Raj, Dee, AND Shirley literally jumped over a shark at the end of the episode, you wouldn't have been surprised in the least.

Here's a recap of the hilarity.

And yes, it's on DVD. But that's OK, you don't need it. You need this and this, which came in the mail today.

The Dom Irrera bits are worth the entire price. Plus you get Dave Attell, pre-"Raymond" Ray Romano, and Louis C.K., more than enough to balance out Janeane Garofalo, Judy Tenuta, and Marc Maron. What a deal.

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The last "The Letter" of 2006 is about, er, being the last "The Letter" of 2006. Apologies for repeating the song lyric from an earlier post here, but it's a different audience ("It's new to you!"):

There's a song by a band called the Mountain Goats that Fran and I adopted as our theme for 2006. The refrain of the song is this line:

Next week? No Letter. Not until January. Until then, may you and your family have the best holiday season ever- after this year, I think we all deserve that.

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Nothing? Not even a scan? No comment on the Handel-White blowup or the Air America "letter of intent" or the Daily Breeze sale? Nothing on the lethal injection troubles and broken Wii straps and people getting sick at the Olive Garden? Nothing on Bob Barr going Libertarian, Miss USA's party problems, the end of FHM USA, the Duke accuser's baby, or Judith Regan's firing? No.

Look, I was the only All Access hand on deck for the last three days. All the news, all formats, plus my usual columns. And I still have to do it for several more days. Add a pounding sinus headache and a dead car battery, and ask yourself if you'd want to sit there and write some more at the end of the day.

You wouldn't. Talk to you tomorrow.

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Remember this? Remember how a card sent to someone in Australia ended up in my mailbox in California instead?

It happened again. In my mailbox today:

Etobicoke is a suburb of Toronto. I live in a suburb of Los Angeles.

It's not even on the way- Illinois to Toronto by way of Los Angeles?

Nobody noticed this along the way?

The United States Postal Service- who needs FedEx when you can get service like this?

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