Now that we have Antenna TV on our cable and I can watch "Father Knows Best" (<---- ) and "McHale's Navy" and "The Jack Benny Program" all day, I really have decided what I need in my life is more enjoyment and less news. As enjoyable as it is to hear Ted Cruz and that Trump fellow nattering on like two guys at a Rotary Convention, I would rather see Robert Young, Jane Wyatt, Elinor Donahue, Billy Gray and Lauren Chapin recreate 1950s family problems.
And so it is that I am consciously cutting down on TV news. This leads to the sinking feeling you get when you walk into a movie halfway through it, or, worse, when you walk into a Chemistry exam knowing little more about chemistry than that one should not mix bleach and ammonia, when I see stories that began a day or two before.
I did hear that Mexican drug kingpin Joaquín Archivaldo Guzmán Loera, aka "El Chapo" ("The Short One") escaped from Mexican prison last year. Lucky Guzmán, taking an afternoon stroll around his palatial cell, found a giant manhole in the floor, just big enough for one man to shimmy down to a tunnel, where a motorcycle had been left behind by the tunnelmakers. Using the carelessly-discarded Honda to get away from the mysterious tunnel, Guzmán escaped Mexico.
Only to be captured alive late last week... in Mexico.
And then yesterday I read that the Mexican authorities nabbed him because he was finalizing last-minute details about a biographical movie, and being interviewed about it by Jeff Spicoli ( ----> ).
The next thing you know, people will believe that Supergirl can really fly and carry airplanes around, and George Clooney is really a physician.
Enough of real life! Back to Hollywood versions of it for me. Just call me "El Cheapo."