Baby You Can Drive My Car. 05/26/23

The more cars become sophisticated electronically, the harder they become to operate. Take the radio. I like the push button days, when pressing #1 gave me my favorite music station, #2 was my favorite news station, #3 was sports talk radio, etc. Now, every time I turn on my all-electric car, I get a randomly selected radio station. I cannot save my “favorites” unless I properly enroll in “My BMW,” which I cannot figure out how to do. So I first have to push the “media” button on the console, and then select “FM” or “Sirius” and then have to turn a dial also on the console, to my selected channel. All while trying to keep the car in the same lane on the highway, mind you. Not easy. And what the hell happened to “AM radio?” They don’t even offer it!!!!

And then let’s talk about keys, which are the subject of both this week’s cartoons. John calls them key fobs, I call them keys, but you can see from the comic who won that battle. At any rate, with an old-fashioned key, you had to stick it in the ignition. Then came the key fobs, and the car makers still had a slot for you to insert the key fob (there, are you happy now John?) into the ignition, so you always ended your drive the same way. Step 1, turn off the engine. Step 2, pull the key out of the ignition. Step 3, put the key in your pocket, purse, backpack, etc. So what went wrong? Turns out with the modern key fob, you don’t have to do anything with it, except have it with you. There is no place to put the key (fob) into the dashboard. The key slot has gone the way of the car cigarette lighter. No more. So what do you do? You put the damn key FOB in the cup holder. And promptly forget it. The good (and bad news) is the car doesn’t lock when the key is still inside, which I like, because I used to routinely lock my keys in the car after a round of golf, when I forgot that I put the keys in my golf bag and my golf bag was in the trunk, and…

See something like that was bad enough, but what Marv did was worse. Because he just left his key or as some would have it, key fob, in the cup holder. And since the car can no longer be locked with the keys or key fob inside, it makes it very easy for a car thief to prowl the neighborhood and look for cars parked in driveways where many people routinely make the same mistake Marv did, and poof, his car was gone. One last question about keys. Why are a single set of keys referred to in the plural (Honey, have you seen the car keys?) but a key fob is singular? (Honey where did you put the key fob). Questions like this are part of what make the comic business so rewarding.

Finally, John and I are putting the finishing touches on our new compilation of the New 60’s Greatest Hits. A comic book, if you will. Hundreds of our favorite comics, with some wry (whatever that means) commentary by us. Should be on sale before the end of the year. That’s it for now. Until we meet again next week, have a great Memorial Day Weekend,

Andy and John

Here Comes Summer. 05/19/23

If you’ve gotten this far, you’ve likely seen both of today’s comics already. One dealt (mercifully) with Al’s final game as an ump. And the other deals with Marv settling in for the season with his new backyard setup. But first a word about the strip. Well it seems that Andy (that’s me) turned 70 last week, which begs the question, can a 70-year old still write about life in your 60’s? And the answer is, hell yeah. And John is still squarely in his 60’s. I can hear you 60 somethings sitting back there saying, I still play tennis while you play pickleball, I ride a real bike while you ride an e-bike, I walk 18 holes, blah, blah, blah. Let me tell you something, I can do everything you 60-year olds can do. Just not quite as well. And to tell the truth, I haven’t yet tried pickleball. Besides, as John points out, Charlie Brown never aged, nor did Lucy, or Popeye. And neither did Beetle Bailey, Dagwood Bumstead or for that matter, Dick Tracy. So the New 60 will continue to be the New 60, and besides, John is 5 years younger. And he plays tennis. And rides a real bike. Far. Which gets us back to summer.

Sure Al tried his hand at umping the boys of summer, but a brutal collision at home plate, getting barreled over by an aggressive 8-year old, ends his newest career path. Which is a good thing, because sooner or later he was bound to call his grandson Billy out at the plate, and who knows where that would’ve gone? Actually we do, but we’re not telling.

And then there’s Marv in his new backyard setup. When you have dreams like building a pool, buying a sports car or (in my wife’s case) traveling to Bhutan, if you don’t do it now, when are you gonna do it? Now is the time to go for it. Unless you’re like the long-suffering fans of the old Brooklyn Dodgers who, upon losing to the hated Yankees year after year (except for 1955 when they finally beat them), adopted the famous slogan, “Wait ‘til next year.”

Have a wonderful weekend, and we’ll be back next week with two new ones.

Andy and John

Where Do We Come From. 02/03/23

So here’s the deal. When it comes to the subject of where did we come from, there are two types of people. People like John who trace their roots back through the ages and people like me who basically couldn’t care less. Pet peeve, people who say “I could care less,” which means the exact opposite of what they’re trying to say. I think if you could care less, then go ahead and care less. But I wandered off course again. The point is, I know very little about my past and haven’t thought of searching for it. I know one set of grandparents came over from Russia and the others used to live in Boston, but that’s it. After that, bupkis (which means “nothing” for those of you who don’t know a few choice Yiddish phrases). Friends have said to me, “You think your mother’s parents come from Boston? How about their parents?” And I shrug my shoulders and say, “I don’t know.” Whereas John can say he’s 29% Scottish, another 69% from other European locales, and 1% Ivory Coast and Ghana (the latter part is probably why he played jazz trumpet in high school). As for me, there’s the Russian part and then I’m told that my last name (Landorf) is actually German for “country village” so maybe I’m part German and I can see why my ancestors were smart to get the hell out of there. Come to think of it, I do have a predilection for sausage, sauerkraut, brown bread, beer and mustard with seeds, but that’s probably coincidental.

At any rate we decided to invent a past for Marv. Think about it, if we gave Marv my attitude, it wouldn’t have made much of a comic.

Mike: Hey Dad, what are those pictures?”

Marv: Oh just some old family photos I found in the attic.

Mike: Who’s that? Marv: I have absolutely no idea.

See what I mean? Not much of a comic. So we went with John’s ancestor-friendly approach and invented a past life for Marv’s grandpa, which explained the strange last name for a Black man, Mandlebaum. After some back and forth, John wondered about making Morris a baker of Streit’s Matzo. I went into my cupboard and just happened to have a box of the very same. As luck would happen they opened their matzo factory in 1925 which happened to fit our timeline perfectly and the story emerged. How many Black men in the 1920’s can you think of that became Matzo bakers? And how many of those starred for the company hoops team? Not too many, except for the esteemed Morris Mandlebaum, a guy that could make a crisp matzo. And a hook shot from 12-feet.

The other thing we like about the search for Marv’s past is it gave Marv a profound way to bond with his son. Come to think of it, maybe I will get the Ancestry kit after all.

Have a wonderful weekend and we’ll see you next week with the conclusion of the Morris Mandlebaum story and a trip back to Al’s new workplace, Pizza-on-a-Stick.

Andy and John

On Forgetting and the Holidays

This is not about forgetting the holidays. We’re not THAT old yet. It’s about forgetting and the holidays. But the first comic is about forgetting where you parked. And I’m sorry to say that one happened to yours truly. My wife and I went out to dinner with another couple who were visiting us. After dinner was a jazz concert. Because the other couple wasn’t familiar with the area, the plan was that my wife Joanie went with the other husband in his car while I took the other wife in my car. Now get your collective minds out of the gutter. Nothing happened like that except when we walked out of the restaurant, I had no idea where I had parked. As in none. This wasn’t some understandable confusion, like not being able to find your car in a mall lot, an airport or a football stadium. Everybody does that. Don’t they? I mean, even a guy like John might lose his car there. But no, this was different. I couldn’t have been more than a block away. So I walked up the hill a block, down the hill two blocks (to make up for the one block uphill), and then back up to the starting place in front of the restaurant. I turned to my companion and shrugged my shoulders, and she suggested I use my key to unlock the car and maybe we’d see the flashing headlights. I heard but didn't see so finally I hit the “panic” button on the car key and eureka, there it was, one block away on the side street. Which begs the question do they call it a panic button because they know you are panicking? I always thought it was named “panic button,” because you’d use it in a panic, like if you saw somebody about to steal your car. But now I know better. In any case, while sheepishly recounting this to John, he suggested it might be better to have forgotten that Al didn’t drive after all. He had walked to the restaurant and forgotten. I’m still not sure which story is more pathetic.

But let’s get to Christmas. It’s the most wonderful time of the year, as those annoying car commercials never tire of telling us. You know the ones. They all have these stupid, oversized red bows on top of cars. I think Lexus started it but now BMW has joined the fray. If you’ve seen the commercial once, you’ve seen it a million times. This time the red bow appears on top of the house, a wind comes and blows it on top of the BMW, whereupon the perfectly coiffed, perfectly in shape grandpa comes out of the front door and thinks his son bought the car for him. Yeah, right. I believe that. And all of this has little to do with our holiday comic, delivered to your inbox two days before Christmas. John suggested Marv for Christmas because he’s rotund and jolly just like Santa. Mark is always struggling with his weight (who isn’t?) and that naturally led to Christmas cookies, and…you know the rest because chances are, you already read the comic. So happy holidays and we will see you next week before we finally get to next year. Where does the time go??

Andy and John

Perspective 09/09/22

If you’re old enough to be reading The New 60, you’re probably old enough to have grandchildren. And if you’re old enough to have grandchildren you know that you’ve just been knocked back a rung or two in the family pecking order. Speaking from experience, my wife and I rented a beach house this summer and invited our daughter, her husband and their child, who doubles as our first grandchild. Now admittedly she is cute as a button, likely the cutest baby ever (okay that’s just grandpa getting carried away…a little) but enough is enough. One day my wife was feverishly working, door to our bedroom closed as she conducted a zoom meeting on her computer. I needed to desperately ask her a question and couldn't wait for her meeting to end in order to ask the question. She had at least another hour to go. So I gingerly opened the door and entered the room. She looked over her shoulder, saw it was me and waved me away, as if to say “Get out of here, can’t you see I’m in the middle of an important meeting?” I retreated. Now to be fair, she is the only one of us with a full-time job since I unceremoniously “retired” from advertising at the end of 2016, and her work is very important. At any rate, not five minutes later our granddaughter came crawling down the hallway, and I, feeling rejected (and being a wiseass) , wanted to get my wife back. So I said to the baby, “Want to see grandma? C’mon, she’s right in here. So baby Charlotte crawls right up to the door, and slaps at it, making a loud sound repeatedly. My wife comes to the door ready to hand me my head, when she looks down, sees who’s making the racket, and in her sweetest, highest voice, says Hiiiiiiiii sweetheart, want Grandma to pick you up?” And of course she does, brings Charlotte to the computer, introduces her to the zoom meeting, and everybody is oohing and ahhing and speaking in their own high voices for the next five minutes, before she hands Charlotte back to her mom, shuts the door and resumes the meeting. Now couldn't she have done the same with me? Granted she couldn't have lifted me up, but at least an “Excuse me guys, I just have to speak to my husband for a second, oh wait, want to meet him?” I mean I am 69, which is not nearly as cute as our 16- month-old, but I am temporarily disabled with a broken ankle suffered while riding a bicycle. So give me a little break, but wait, I’d rather not have any more breaks. Okay, I guess it’s pretty tough to score sympathy points when competing with a baby. She wins. As does my wife and her accurate set of priorities. But what I had to say was important. Something crucial like, “Could you pick up some tonic water at the grocery store?” In truth it was so unimportant that I can’t even remember what it was. So maybe it wasn't that important, but it did inspire our first comic.

Next up was Pickleball. John is a tennis player and has also tried his hand at Pickleball. It is being billed as a great sport for seniors, right up there with walking and frisbee golf. It requires good hand-eye coordination and not much running since most people play doubles and the court is about a third the size of a tennis court. But what it does require is a lot of quick movements including lunging. Back to my broken ankle. I was reading an article about the emerging popularity of Pickleball, when they quoted Dr. Neil Roth, an orthopedic surgeon, extensively. Dr. Roth said it was a great game for seniors for many reasons but cautioned that he had repaired a lot of broken limbs as a result of Pickleball. That stopped me because that is the same Dr. Roth who just performed surgery on my ankle. When John and I discussed how we were going to approach Pickleball, I suggested doing a comic about a broken limb, but he went right to the fact that part of the court is called the kitchen and we both knew who has trouble in the kitchen. Loveable old Marv, that’s who.

So that’s it for this week. Enjoy your weekend, Can you believe it’s already football season? See you next week with two new ones,

Andy and John

On Retirement. Now What? 4/22/22

I remember my first day of retirement as if it were yesterday. For anybody counting, it was in November of 2016. And to be truthful, it wasn’t exactly retirement, but you get the point. So many of my friends have stopped working and their collective thought is, what am I going to do with all that time??? You’ll figure it out. So let’s get back to my first weekend as a free man. As I often did, I went for a hike with my wife. I looked at my watch and saw it was almost 4 pm and grew worried. She asked, “What’s wrong,” and I replied, “It’s almost 4 and I haven’t gone to the grocery store yet.” She said, “Why not go Monday?” What she was saying without saying is you’re free to do whatever you want now. For me, I was so used to having to fit everything (like groceries) into a tight window on weekends so it didn’t interfere with my work week. But now? What the hell. I instantly felt my shoulders relax. That fall and the ensuing spring were filled with Tuesday bike rides, Wednesday golf games, mid-week afternoon Mets games and in the winter, the occasional afternoon movie (remember when we went to movies), or even a theater matinee. And grocery shopping on a Tuesday. In the morning. With no one there. Now we’re not claiming it’s going to be all roses for Marv moving forward, because, well, he’s Marv, but we are going to examine how his presence (just as mine did 5 years ago) turns the house upside down. Everyone was used to him NOT being there Monday through Friday, from 8:30 in the morning until around 7 at night. We will follow Marv from his retirement party through his first awkward days at home, to his venturing out into the brave new world, sometimes on his own.

Our next comic dealt with, oh yeah, retirement. More on that next week, and if you’re retired, you’ll have more than enough time to see what happens. If you’re still working, you can see what you have to look forward to. And if you retired folks need an idea for what to do, you could, I don’t know…start a comic. Just don’t call it The New 60.

Enjoy the weekend,

Andy and John

Goin' Down the Rabbit Hole

In “Alice in Wonderland,” Alice goes through the looking glass into the proverbial rabbit hole and starts her adventures. In today’s world, we enter the rabbit hole through our computers, tablets, phones and tv’s. The only difference is algorithms. They take what we are naturally interested in and push us to what other people who are interested in the same thing are also interested in. I realize that sentence made no sense at all. For instance, if you’re interested in combating pollution, you might get served an article about mulching your leftovers, which might lead you to an article on planting a vegetable garden with the previously mentioned mulch, which might lead to a recipe for garden salads. I frequently read about sports but at the bottom of the articles are what’s known as “clickbait,” articles that ask you to guess what these former sex symbols like Raquel Welch, look like today. After 25 clicks you still haven’t gotten to Raquel Welch, but after they send you to Tom Selleck, you decide you’ve had enough. That kind of thing. So John and I thought long and hard about what kind of rabbit hole we wanted to send Marv down. The obvious one was politics, but that seemed too obvious, so we turned to a rabbit hole John may have gone down himself, although he won’t admit to it. Part of it was he was looking for best exercises for guys with bad knees (I looked at that one myself and found an article saying jogging was good for you and another saying it was the worst possible thing you could do, so my rabbit hole was a fairly shallow one). As for John, he moved upstate to a house he built on a hilltop. One of the activities he enjoys either by himself or with his sons or son-in-law is chopping wood. So is it any surprise Marv went down the rabbit hole about wood chopping? I think not.

But when you chop wood, you need something to do with that wood, which brought us to Rabbit Hole, part 2, in which Marv decides he’ll use all that wood he’ll chop (keep in mind he still has yet to start chopping) as firewood. But he doesn’t have a fireplace. Yet. And that’s the thing with rabbit holes, you just keep digging deeper until you have no idea where you are or how you got there. Which is kind of what this blog feels like today. Now where was I? In any event Marv’s trip down the hole is a 3-parter ending next Tuesday, which is when he will finally come up for air (we hope).

Have a great weekend and please avoid all rabbit holes. We’ll see where Marv ends up next week before exploring what else he does with his spare time in retirement. We spend our spare time writing this comic, besides that, what we do is anybody’s guess.

‘til we meet again,

Andy and John

The More Things Change... 10/15/21

The more things change, the more they stay the same. I’ve never quite understood that one, but whatever it means, it applies to both of this week’s comics. First the Train Set. Now John and I grew up differently from one another. He loves to build stuff, cut down trees, carve pumpkins, manly stuff like that that he probably learned from his dad, who in turn learned from his dad and so on. And so he is naturally enthralled with things like train sets. Me, I’m Jewish. When something needed fixing or building, my grandfather called the super, my father called the super and I call the super, and we don’t even have a superintendent. So we found a guy who is great at fixing stuff and call him when the need arrives, which is often. But back to the train set. Come to think of it, my dad did have a Lionel train set at one point. I can remember an exploding box car, which you tried to hit with a rocket launcher as the train was moving, but that’s about it. I imagine John’s childhood train set to be much, much more detailed. With the diversity of train set experience hanging between us, we settled on one thing we have in common, age. And let’s face it, when you want to show off your fancy toy train set to your grandkid and the kid doesn’t recognize anything in it, it’s a little deflating. And that was the influence for the Train Set comic. But not to worry, we are going to have a second train set comic next week. You don’t build (in this case, draw) a whole train set only to use it once.

Next up is the trip to the library. But what this is really about is clutter. Maria Kondo wrote a best-selling book about removing clutter. Really, people are attracted to books like hers, which to me seems like more clutter, but anyway… She says that you should only keep things that “spark joy.” I say, “spark this.” But she has a point. In my childhood home, the train set didn’t spark as much joy as the ping pong table it was sitting on, so after a while, bye bye train set with exploding box car and rocket launcher. I have a theory that there are two kinds of people in most relationships, hoarders, and chucker outers. I am a chucker outer. If I buy a new pair of jeans, which isn’t often, I put an older pair in the clothing bin in our local strip mall. Same with shirts, shoes, etc. My wife is a “collector.” In this case we switched roles and made Marv the hoarder. His wife Rachel wants to get rid of stuff. But when he was at the book fair at the public library, he saw so much stuff that sparked so much joy, he kind of forgets his mission.

7 years ago, my wife and I, empty nesters now that our kids were out of the house and graduated from college, sold our house and moved to an apartment. Now that requires a whole bunch of downsizing and, let’s face it, different things “spark joy” in different people. I remember a conversation we had upon moving in. Me: We cannot possibly have 4 sets of china in an apartment. She: Or 4 tv’s.

Guess how that ended? As I might say, you never know when a 4th person might come over and want to watch something different from what 3 other people are watching, so we really need 4. And as Joanie might say, this was my mother’s set, this was my grandmother’s set, this is my great grandmother’s and then there’s our everyday dishes and it makes me feel good to have them. So we compromised and kept everything, just in case.

That is it for this week. We will be back to you next week with two new ones, including what Al’s grandson wants to do with the train set.

Have a great weekend,

Andy and John

On getting out there 07/31/2020

Well, we have to get to some form of normal at some point, right? So we thought of Al and Joanne taking a trip on an airplane. The poor airlines have to make money somehow, so they sell us first class, business class, coach, even coach with extra leg room, pillows, snacks and our personal favorite, early boarding. Who knew there could be so many categories, and sub-categories? And how is it that no matter how much privilege we pay for, we still wind of getting on last, with no overhead room for the bags which now go to the cargo hold and then cost you an extra hour as you watch the baggage carousel spin without your bag on it? Ain’t it good to have priority? And that was all it took for our first comic.

Next up we wondered what would happen when people went back to their physical offices. And what would employers do to make their returning employees overjoyed at being back? Plan a corporate retreat? John and I have both been on our share of company retreats before and this time we discussed the kind with “team-building exercises.” I would venture that everyone who has ever been part of a “trust fall” contemplated doing exactly what Marv did and let the bum fall. But nobody would really do that. Except this is a comic, which gives us the right to do anything we like. Sorry Gladys.

Have a great weekend and we’ll see you next Friday (and please, refrain from trust falls),

Andy and John

Why am I being followed? 10/18/18

You know how it is. Those annoying little ads that keep following you around every time you check your phone or iPad or laptop. For me it’s Golfballs.com, Mack Weldon underwear and t-shirts, Bombas socks and Russian Brides, oh wait a minute, forget that last one. Well today we (or rather Al’s son) explains how to get rid of them, the cookies, not the Russian Brides. The problem is I don’t understand a word of to get rid of cookies (John copied the instructions from the inter web and I’m not convinced he knows either.) But it’s creepy isn’t it? How do “they” know? I’ve had friends tell me they just said something to someone, and their phone picks it up and then ads for that thing suddenly appear on their computer screen. And by the way Golfballs.com, if you’re so smart you’d know to stop sending me ads in December. It’s too cold to play, damn it. If you were so smart, you’d know that.

Our other hot topic concerns, well, uhh, going to the bathroom. How you learn at a certain age to go before you leave (does that make any sense at all??) because if you don’t, you’ll regret it. I mean, that’s what people tell me. I won’t regret it because that’s not a problem for ME, but for most guys my age…

Okay, okay, it’s a problem for me too. It’s one of those little tricks nature plays on you. You’re fine when you get up to leave the restaurant, but then when you’re driving home, oh boy. And then you’ve got to park the car, and, umm, did we get the mail yet, oh it can wait until the morning and where the hell are my keys, and where’s the damn elevator already and oh my god, I can’t open the front door, and, you get the idea.

Point is, you’ve got to adjust as you go along and make allowances for things you can no longer do, like hold it in for an extra hour. When you’re young and growing up you adjust to all the new things you CAN do. Look mom, I can crawl, I can walk, I can run…and now, it’s the complete opposite. Although I am not giving up. I am going to run in one of those marathons yet. Just you wait.

Have a nice weekend and go Giants (even though they’re going nowhere)

Andy