He's At It Again

My daughter helps keep me grounded when I go off on one of my "what's happening to our country" rants, so she'll probably roll her eyes when she reads this post. I feel like America is being hijacked by a small group of people who are trying to pervert the values that made this country great, things like initiative, hard work, and self-reliance. They want us to rely on the government to meet all our needs through "income redistribution". Translation: take even more of my hard-earned money and give it to able-bodied people who sit at home doing nothing.

I'm not talking about lending a helping hand to people truly in need: America has always been generous in this regard. I'm talking about giving more of my money to people who are too stupid or too lazy to get a job and earn a living. There's nothing wrong with them that can't be fixed, they just choose not to take the trouble. Why should they when all they have to do is sit home and wait for their welfare check courtesy of workers like me. When Rudy Giuliani was mayor of New York, he enacted "workfare"; people receiving welfare checks had to do something like clean up city highways to continue to receive benefits. Oh the hue and cry: "There is no dignity in this work" the freeloaders moaned. Yeah right, but there is dignity in taking someone else's money for doing absolutely nothing. Please.

Here's another joke: my tax dollars go to pay for education and health care for illegal aliens. These folks not only sneak into our country and break our laws, but have the gall to DEMAND rights and protections previously reserved for our own citizens. America always welcomed immigrants who came into the country legally. They kissed the ground when they were allowed in, and demanded nothing except the right to work hard, pay their taxes and become citizens. Many illegals have no interest in this country except to get free education, free health care, and earn money off the books (no taxes) that they then ship back to their home country so that some day they can go back there and live the good life. Are our gutless politicians trying to stop this insanity? No, they're passing laws to make it easier for illegals to stay here and steal our money.

On September 11, 2001 the twin towers of the World Trade Center were destroyed by Islamic terrorists and nearly 3,000 Americans were killed. It seems that our ridiculously lax immigration laws allowed these fanatics from countries who hate us and our way of life to freely enter the United States and go about their deadly business unhindered. This unbelievable atrocity led to the development of the Department of Homeland Security. When scrutiny of people entering the United States was heightened, Arab-American groups complained about being singled out for investigation. We immediately caved. Here's what I would have told them: "Terrorists from your countries, who look and sound like YOU, just killed 5,000 of our innocent citizens. Who am I supposed to look more closely at, Norwegians! I'm sorry if you can't tolerate a few extra questions. If you don't like it, stay home." When did someone's hurt feelings take precedence over the security of our country?

As long as I'm on a roll....there was a time in this country's history that workers were abused by management. Horrible work conditions led (rightly so) to the formation of unions to help protect worker rights. Many unions have outlived their usefulness and are now havens for people who want to do as little as possible and receive the same wage as those who work. Benefits have become an anchor around the necks of American companies, and made it virtually impossible for these companies to compete in the world marketplace. If you don't think this is so, you have only to look at the American auto industry. The price of the inferior cars they make is greatly inflated by bloated health care and pension benefits. MTA union workers in New York City have raised rudeness and laziness to new heights, but when times get tough do they economize? No, they raise the Verrazano Bridge toll to $13.00.

I saved the best for last. Americans used to save up for what they wanted. If you couldn't afford it, you didn't get it, period. To buy a house was not easy; you needed a substantial down-payment and had to pass a real background check to get approved. Banks guarded their investor's money jealously. Last year the world was plunged into what has become arguably the worst economic meltdown in our country's history. What caused it you ask? Wildly unrestrained credit spending, especially in the housing market, coupled with a massive failure of the regulatory system that we felt so sure would protect us. The American values of thrift and living within one's means went out with 8-track tapes.

This is not about Democrat vs. Republican, nor about race, religion or place of origin. I am not some flag waving, gun toting nut screaming: "My country right or wrong." It's just that I will never understand why hard working people are expected to pick up the tab for those who refuse to work, who are here illegally, who max out credit cards like it was a Parker Brothers board game or whose union memberships have become a license to steal. I'm more than willing to pay my fair share of taxes for legitimate purposes, but seeing my income "redistributed" to pay for the lazy, the greedy and the lawbreaker is contrary to the values on which this country was built. I'm also tired of apologizing to people for "profiling" them while trying to protect our borders and our citizens. We need to stand up for what we believe.

Change is inevitable, but the fundamental values that made this country great cannot be tossed aside like last year's reality TV show. (OK dear, I'll take my medication from now on.)


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The Myth of the Criminal Mastermind

In fiction novels we read about master criminals like Dr. Moriarity whose exploits are nearly a match for the likes of master detective Sherlock Holmes. In real life though, most criminals are pathologically dumb. Every once in a while you read about one of these pinheads and can't believe anyone could be this stupid. In support of this statement, I have listed some examples below:

Colorado Springs: A guy walked into a little corner store with a shot gun and demanded all the cash from the cash drawer. After the cashier put the cash in a bag, the robber saw a bottle of scotch that he wanted behind the counter on the shelf. He told the cashier to put it in the bag as well, but he refused and said "Because I don't believe you are over 21." The robber said he was, but the clerk still refused to give it to him because he didn't believe him. At this point the robber took his driver's license out of his wallet and gave it to the clerk. The clerk looked it over, and agreed that the man was in fact over 21 and he put the scotch in the bag. The robber then ran from the store with his loot. The cashier promptly called the police and gave the name and address of the robber that he got off the license. They arrested the robber two hours later.

Oklahoma City: Dennis Newton was on trial for the armed robbery of a convenience store in a district court when he fired his lawyer. Assistant district attorney Larry Jones said Newton, 47, was doing a fair job of defending himself until the store manager testified that Newton was the robber. Newton jumped up, accused the woman of lying and then said, "I should of blown your (expletive) head off." The defendant paused, then quickly added, "if I'd been the one that was there." The jury took 20 minutes to convict Newton and recommended a 30-year sentence.

San Francisco: A man, wanting to rob a downtown Bank of America, walked into the branch and wrote "this is a stikkup. Put all your muny in this bag." While standing in line, waiting to give his note to the teller, he began to worry that someone had seen him write the note and might call the police before he reached the teller window. So he left the Bank of America and crossed the street to Wells Fargo. After waiting a few minutes in line, he handed his note to the Wells Fargo teller. She read it and, surmising from his spelling errors that he was not too bright, told him that she could not accept his stickup note because it was written on a Bank of America deposit slip and that he would either have to fill out a Wells Fargo deposit slip or go back to Bank of America. Looking somewhat defeated, the man said "OK" and left. The Wells Fargo teller then called the police who arrested the man a few minutes later, as he was waiting in line back at Bank of America.

Milwaukee: A man and his girlfriend were robbing a convenience store. While waiting for her boyfriend to finish getting the money, the woman noticed a contest entry form featuring all-expenses vacations to exotic places. Thinking it would be cool to win, she filled out the form, complete with her name, address, and phone number. A few hours later the police were at the couple's house to arrest them."

Kentucky: Two men tried to pull the front off a cash machine by running a chain from the machine to the bumper of their pickup truck. Instead of pulling the front panel off the machine, though, they pulled the bumper off their truck. Scared, they left the scene and drove home. With the chain still attached to the machine. With their bumper still attached to the chain. With their vehicle's license plate still attached to the bumper.

Bent Forks, Ill. Kidnappers of ice-cube magnate Worth Bohnke sent a photograph of their captive to Bohnke's family. Bohnke was seen holding up a newspaper, but it was not that day's edition. This was pointed out to the kidnappers in a subsequent phone call. They responded by sending a new photograph showing an up-to-date newspaper. Bohnke, however, did not appear in the picture. When this, too, was refused, the kidnappers became peevish and insisted that a photograph be sent to them showing all the people over at Bohnke's house holding different issues of Success magazine. They provided a mailing address and were immediately apprehended. They later admitted to FBI agents they did not understand the principle involved in the kidnapping/newspaper photograph concept. "We thought it was just some kind of tradition," said one.

This story is probably an urban legend, but it does support the idea that while criminals may not be geniuses, their lawyers might well be:

A lawyer defending a man accused of burglary tried this creative defense: "My client merely inserted his arm into the window and removed a few trifling articles. His arm is not himself, and I fail to see how you can punish the whole individual for an offense committed by his limb." "Well put," the judge replied. "Using your logic, I sentence the defendant's arm to one year's imprisonment. He can accompany it or not, as he chooses." The defendant smiled. With his lawyer's assistance he detached his artificial limb, laid it on the bench, and walked out.

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No Business Like Show Business

I can't remember the first play I ever saw; probably "My American Cousin". The evening was ruined though when they shot President Lincoln. In New York we have always referred to plays as "Broadway shows" simply because there is no venue in the world that has seen more exciting musicals, riveting dramas or hilarious comedies than our beloved "Great White Way". By way of useless information (my stock in trade) I offer the following: "The Great White Way" was originally the title of a 1901 book about the South Pole. The term was applied to Broadway by Shep Friedman of the New York Morning Telegraph, after a snowstorm on Broadway in 1902 had turned the street into a "white way." Later, "white way" referred to the lights of Broadway. No, no, don't thank me.

I think one of the earliest shows I remember attending was "Funny Girl" starring a very young Barbra Streisand as Fanny Brice, and Sydney Chaplin as her male lead, gambler Nicky Arnstein, a role later played by Omar Sharif in the movie. The show opened in 1964 at the Winter Garden theater, and Streisand was a smash, singing some of her now signature songs like "People" and "Don't Rain on My Parade. I thought she was wonderful and stood up cheering with everyone else as she was summoned for many curtain calls. Unfortunately, Streisand has become a hypocritical tool of the liberal left, telling the rest of us poor unwashed how we should live our lives while she, with her success and money, comfortably isolates herself from the "downtrodden" people she professes to champion. I take back my applause Babs.

Another memorable show for me was "La Cage Aux Folles", based on a 1973 French play, and adapted for the musical stage in 1983 from a book by Harvey Fierstein with lyrics and music by the talented Jerry Herman. A story about two gay men whose lives become comically complicated by the impending nuptials of the straight son of one of them from a previous marriage to a girl with very strict, morally upright parents. Gene Barry and George Hearn were brilliant in this campy farce, and Herman's score was masterful. To this day if I hear any tune from the show, I'll be humming it for weeks. The show is so well crafted that even some local amateur productions we've seen couldn't be screwed up. Winners of eight Tony awards including best musical, the show ran for 1,761 performances.

We try to attend mostly musicals and comedies since there is more than enough drama in the world. One exception was the great mystery thriller, "Sleuth". From a review: "Sleuth tells the story of two men who share interests for the same woman. Complicating matters is the fact that one of these men is already married to the woman. Andrew Wyke is a detective fiction writer who is confronted by his wife’s lover, Milo, who asks Wyke to surrender his wife to him. Wyke welcomes Milo into his home and gains his trust with his witty, composed manner, only to later reveal his true evil intentions. The razor sharp banter between the two, in addition to some unexpected guests, creates a humorous, psychological thriller that will leave you on the edge of your seat." We saw Patrick MacNee (The Avengers") who was great in the role originated by Sir Laurence Oliver.

"Deathtrap" was another brilliant thriller about New York playwright Sidney Bruhl (Michael Caine), not a happy man. His latest murder-mystery fooled no-one and had more unintentional laughs than shocks. Worse still, he's been teaching a writing class at a local college and one young man (Christopher Reeve) has written a great script, possibly better than Sidney ever wrote in his hey-day. He invites the young man to his house, ostensibly to murder him so he can claim the script as his own. But events, as you would expect, do not transpire as Sidney intends. Both these mysteries are cleverly constructed with wit and enough roller-coaster plot twists to keep your attention riveted to the stage.

There is an excitement in live theater that can never be equalled by movies. The interaction between actors and audience, when the play is is right, is electric. More modern shows like Phantom of the Opera, The Producers, Wicked, and Jersey Boys carry on the time-honored stage tradition of the Great White Way. Neil Simon, Rogers and Hammerstein, Stephen Sondheim, Jerry Herman and so many other talented geniuses have left a body of work unequalled anywhere. Sadly, Broadway ticket prices have skyrocketed, but if you take advantage of the "two-fer" offers, even if you sit in the nosebleed seats, you'll get your money's worth. Or try off-Broadway shows...we have seen some good ones (Nunsense, Perfect Crime, Into the Woods); they are cheaper and just as entertaining.

I was glad when Disney started bringing shows like Beauty and the Beast, The Lion King and The Little Mermaid to Broadway. These wonderful productions bring a whole new generation of young audiences in to experience live theater. Do your children or grandchildren a great favor; drag them out of their electronic world for a little while and take them to a show.

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"Is That a G-G-G-Gun!

Whenever we want to disparage someone’s honesty, we compare them to a used car salesman. Stereotypes like these are not totally unfair because, like most stereotypes, there is some truth in them. Car dealers in general are looked upon with suspicion because of the way they do business; that whole mating dance when you’re negotiating a price on a new car, and the sales person running back and forth to the manager like they were trying their darndest to get you a better deal. Please.

While it’s true I’ve encountered some sales reps from hell like the little dweeb from the Auto Mall in New Jersey who pressed me insistently for my social security number before he had barely said hello. Later, while test driving the car, I asked to hear the radio and this idiot didn’t know how to turn it on. Generally though, I think most of the problems I’ve had have come after I buy the car. I’ve found that dealing with mechanics and service departments is a lot more frustrating than dealing with sales people. I’ve never understood this because while your decision to buy from a particular dealer is based largely on convenience, your decision to return to that dealer is based almost exclusively on how well they service the car. Duh.

An auto service operation is not just about how well they handle maintenance and repairs on the vehicle, but how well they treat you. In the days long ago, before arrogant American auto makers got their butts kicked by Japan, customer waiting rooms in car dealerships were the pits. Dingy surroundings, uncomfortable, mismatched chairs that looked like they were rescued from a dumpster, dog-eared magazines yellow with age, and nothing to eat or drink while you waited at their mercy to fix your car were the norm. Mechanics were surly, had no appreciation for the value of your time, and usually left a memento of your visit in the form of a grease stain on your mats or upholstery.

My worst experience with a mechanic happened during the 1960s. One morning, I dropped off my big-ass Olds ’88 at the local Shell station for an oil change. When I returned that evening looking for my car, I walked right past a total wreck parked in the same gas station. The station owner came out and sheepishly explained that the wreck I walked past WAS my car! It seems that when he was backing the car out after changing the oil, a speeding car ran the light at 86th Street and plowed into my car. He was totally apologetic, and said his insurance company would take care of the repair. What could I do; the damage was done so I told him to notify me when the car was repaired.

About a week later the station owner called me, said the car was ready, and gave me the address in Brooklyn of the body shop where I could pick it up. The body shop owner pulled the car around, and to my complete delight, the car looked like new! I thanked him for a great job, but as I moved to open the door to get in and drive off, he stepped in front of me. He explained that the Shell station owner’s insurance company had not yet agreed to pay for the damage, and that he was slapping a “mechanic’s lien” on the car to prevent me from taking it until he got his money.

At this point I was at the end of my patience. The body shop guy was a lot older and smaller than me, so I told him in my best “hard guy” voice that the insurance problem was between him and the Shell station owner, and that I was taking my car. He calmly stepped into his ratty office and came out with a snarling Doberman and holding the biggest revolver I had ever seen! Needless to say, no further arguments were made by me. (The dog would have been more than enough.) A couple of weeks later, I got my car and an apology from the body shop guy for his “Little Caesar” tactics. I stammered that it was perfectly understandable and, avoiding any sudden movements, slowly backed out.

Things have changed a lot now that car dealers are beginning to understand the relationship between treating customers decently and repeat sales. My current Toyota dealer in New Jersey has a service operation that makes me want to go back. They keep their appointment times, have a customer lounge with big screen TV and extensive reading materials, and will even give you a free voucher for breakfast or lunch that you can redeem in their on-site restaurant while you wait for your car to be serviced. When the car is ready, it takes me ten minutes to remove all the protective coverings they put over the seats and on the floor to prevent stains. And I’m happy to report that so far, nobody has pulled a gun on me.

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Just Shut Up!

As you probably know by now, I am easily annoyed. The older I get the less patience I seem to have. I manage to conceal my irritation in situations where it would be imprudent to show it, but there are times when it is all I can do to keep from rolling up a magazine and hitting someone on the head! I think the fools that bring out the worst in me are the pretentious phonies. They are everywhere you look, for example, last night we went to the New York Historical Society on Central Park West to see the Civil War exhibit on Grant and Lincoln. The building also houses other interesting exhibits including some wonderful paintings.

As we proceeded through the wing of paintings thoroughly enjoying each one and admiring the talented artists who created them, my B.S. alarm suddenly went off. We had come up in the elevator with an older man and a younger woman, thin, blonde and PRETENTIOUS. She was having one of those loud, "look at me, aren't I smart" elevator conversations that make me cringe. The B.S. meter was entering the danger zone, and this was only on the ride up to the fourth floor!

I purposely walked the other way when we got off the elevator, hoping to avoid hearing that obnoxious voice again. We did OK for a while, passing through rooms of period furniture and everyday household items that I remember well growing up. (I guess since they are now considered collectible antiques, that probably makes me an antique too.) As we moved on to the art gallery and down a narrow corridor, I suddenly heard "the voice." It entered my brain like a knitting needle through my ear: "Look at their deportment Charles, they could come from the movie: Streets of New York." And sure enough, down the corridor was this hateful woman. As she droned on, we took off in full flight, needing to be anywhere she wasn't.

I wish I could remember when I developed such an aversion to pretentious people. It's probably the cumulative effect of individual incidents over the years rather than one single defining moment when I went from tolerance of these a**holes to pure malevolence toward them. Not to get too Freudian here, but it may have begun when I saw how certain people treated my mother. She was the very soul of tolerance, and always turned the other cheek when people took advantage or talked down to her. She would simply accept their rudeness and go on with business. For a while growing up, I was this way too. It just seemed like an easy way to get through life with no conflict.

At some point things changed. I began to rankle when I heard that superior tone in people's voices that implied they knew all there was to know. These people are at their worst in public places where they have an audience. You know them in a second...their voices rise above all others as they assert their superiority. My child is so special that they are head and shoulders above the other children in their class; If you had only converted your portfolio to cash when I told you this recession wouldn't have hit you so hard; I wouldn't drive anything but a Mercedez...I don't know why you don't get rid of that Buick.

Their habitats are elevators, restaurants, waiting rooms, anywhere there are other people to impress with how much better they are. Cell phones are their latest weapon; even if they are alone they can have these loud conversations proclaiming how great things are going. I think society should recognize what public nuisances these S.O.B.s are, and declare it perfectly acceptable conduct to approach them, tap them on the shoulder and say: "You know what, shut the f*ck up!" How great would that feel? People would give you a standing ovation. I feel better just thinking about it.

Sure, I can go into therapy, but it's much more fun being crazy.

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Last Meal

You may have noticed the "Blimp Watch" at the bottom of these posts. I'm doing OK, but losing weight is hard for me, mainly because I really love to eat. I could eat five or six meals a day, especially in the cold, dark days of winter when that comfort food beckons. I have a sweet tooth for all things chocolate, ice cream, cookies and pastry so you can see my problem. I was blessed with a wife who can really cook (besides being beautiful and intelligent) so I don't get any bad dinners at home. Also, we eat out maybe once a week at one of the many good restaurants in our area. All these things combine to make losing weight an uphill battle.

When I'm not actually eating, I'm thinking about food. I saw a show on Nova last night that featured new research on compulsive eaters. I have my problems, but these folks were morbidly obese; they stuff themselves until they feel physically ill, and then drown in guilt and depression. The lead researcher believes that something like one in a hundred overweight people have a defective gene receptor that causes them to eat way past the point where people without this problem will feel full and stop. I don't understand how this works, but maybe there's more to overeating than a simple lack of willpower. I guess I want to be told it's not my fault. Anyhow, since I am thinking of food, I decided to write down my dream dinner. It involves travel to several restaurants, so let's get going.

For appetizers, we need go no farther than a local favorite, Gennaro's Restaurant on Staten Island. They serve two appetizers that are equally good: one is a couple of dozen fat Mussels with strips of roasted red peppers and onions in a garlicky white wine sauce; the other is grilled zucchini, eggplant and onions served atop a warm pannini-style bread. If you finish one of these appetizers, you can just have them doggie-bag your entree because you'll be too full to eat it. A nice Pinot Grigio goes well with either of these.

Next, a salad to cleanse the pallette. Caesar salad is my favorite, but there are a few rules that need to be followed. First, the anchovies must be used sparingly, just to flavor the dressing, not overpower it. Next, the lettuce must be crisp Romaine; I've actually had places serve me Caesar Salad with iceburg lettuce....please. The toasted croutons should be on the large size so they don't get lost, and finally the Parmigiano Reggiano cheese must be generously shredded on top. Drink a California Pinot Noir with the salad. Rosie O'Grady's in Manhattan and Arturo's at Bally's in Atlantic City both do a great Caesar salad.

I wrestled with the entree because there are so many dishes I love. With apologies to my Italian ancestors, if I was ordering my last meal on earth, it would have to be a juicy, sizzling steak. I don't eat steak that often these days, so when I do, it has to be good. Most premium steak houses earned their reputations for a reason: my favorites are Ruth's Chris, Morton's, Sparks and, if you can tolerate the service, Peter Luger's. Tier two places include Sammy's in Mendham, New Jersey and Embers in Brooklyn. Sides should include large onion rings and an Idaho baked potato with sour cream. For a companion wine, any decent full-bodied California Cabernet Sauvignon will be perfect. Angioplasty anyone?

Got room for dessert? Of course. Again, tough choice to top off my last meal on earth. To refresh the tastebuds, start with a bottle of cold Prosecco. Then, if you like fancy, Ruth's Chris makes a chocolate lava cake that is so rich it requires CPR in-between bites. Bananas Foster is also a very special treat. Other choices might be Junior's Cheescake (from downtown Brooklyn) or a crisp sfoglitelle from any good Brooklyn bakery. Of course, a big pot of real espresso (screw the decaf) to wash it down. Take a ten-minute walk around the block to give your stomach a rest. Then come back for a nice Cognac and, since I don't really like cigars that much, a few Marlboros to relax.

What's that...the Warden and the Padre are coming? I guess my time is up. That last meal made it all worthwhile. Do I have any last words before walking that green mile? Yes, does anybody have a piece of chocolate for the trip?

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The Scarlet Letter

In The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne, adulteress Hester Prynne must wear a scarlet "A" pinned to her dress to mark her shame, and to warn decent folk that a sinner was approaching. They were pretty tough on adulterers in those days; they certainly didn't get to their country's highest office. But enough about Bill Clinton. Ba da bum bum. As we became more tolerant of adultery, the need for scarlet "A"s diminished. I wonder if there's a warehouse full of them somewhere in New England, because if there is, I think I have a use for them.

As you know if you have any contact at all with the outside world, our society is plagued by a**holes. The problem is we usually don't know when an a**hole is approaching until they engage us, and by then it's too late. (Can you see where I'm going with this?) Wouldn't it be nice if these people could be identified through their behavior, and forced to wear the scarlet letter "A" to designate their status? We could set up a hotline, I'd suggest 1-800-A**HOLE, so that those of us who encounter them might be able to report in. After three hotline calls identifying you as an a**hole, guess what: Here's your "A".

What if the a**holes don't want to wear their "A"; after all, they're a**holes! Don't fret, I have a backup plan. Up until now, without the scarlet letter to tell us, we are hard pressed to distinguish an a**hole from a normal person. They often pass for one of us until they open their mouths or do something stupid. In the interest of helping humankind recognize the a**holes among us, I have drawn on years experience as an observer (and endurer) of a**holes, and have compiled a list of telltale signs that tend to give them away. There are exceptions to be sure, but be on your guard if you see any of the following:

Baseball cap on backwards, especially on persons over the age of 40. This is someone unsure of their "coolness" and desperate to be seen as a happenin' dude. Unless the individual is a baseball catcher or a naval officer peering into a submarine periscope, beware.

Guys who drive Hummers or Cadillac Escalades. Ah, ah, don't fight me on this one. Any guy who needs to drive a vehicle the size of a small building has issues with other "small" things, if you get my meaning. There may be rare exceptions, but I haven't found one yet.

People whose time is so much more valuable than yours,,,you know the ones. They make their own exit lanes on the highway when the normal one is backed up; they walk to the head of the line at the store to ask the clerk "just one quick question"; or they get in the express check out lane with two wagon-loads of stuff.

People who are incredibly stupid and unaware, yet who have the exact opposite opinion of themselves. The condition is exacerbated by the fact that they are often loud, pushy, and never wrong. They never pick up on hints from others that their behavior is offensive, and honestly, I just want to bash their heads in! Sorry, but I do.

Don't say you haven't been warned. A**holes are everywhere and you need to be on the lookout or suffer the consequences. I am thinking of carrying around a pocketful of scarlet "A's" so that when I encounter one of these morons, as a non-violent way of coping, I can simply smile and say: Here's your "A".

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LOOKING FOR A WORTHY CHARITY? TRY THESE FOLKS: Children's Craniofacial Association