Dwayne The Rock Johnsons fighter film is just the newest of the celeb movie machine

I am the teacher.Class will come to order.

Attention must be paid.Subject today? What’s happening to our former United States of America?Covered wagons. E pluribus unum. All for one, one for all.

Back in the days when Jack Benny was on the radio and Milton Berle was on some new gadget called television.And there was an actual creation called an airplane.

A single engine (pardon the name) Fokker T-2.1923.

Left Roosevelt Field and just 27 hours later landed in wherever’s San Diego.Getting my waiter’s attention takes longer.Where’d we go wrong? What happened? The Jazz Age.

Remember bras? Garter belts? Corsets? Stockings? Gender separate bathrooms? Big time $5-a-day jobs.Rumble seats where even young ladies might grumble at the tumble.

Technology like electricity.Forget robots sweeping your rugs.Some smart mouth asked how come I’m on the air every Sunday 2 p.m.

to 3 p.m. The question’s semi-insulting.There are 650 radio stations.

Attention must be paid.So why am I on WABC? Because before I joined it, nobody knew how to get from there to D-E-F.What’s happening now? Please.

Starbucks? The froth is bigger than what tumbles from Crapdammy’s mouth.And can’t use their can unless you spend money there.

No pay, no pee.No good!How about what used to be shoes? Today, it’s all only sneakers.

Break a side, tear a lace? Mazel tov.Who’ll fix it? Your nearest neighborhood repair shop’s now in Palermo.Back then, when Biden was in diapers, when Mrs. Pelosi was poor, when the White House was a one-room lodge, when Bernie Sanders looked good, when civilization actually turned on the nightly news, when Lincoln and that beard who’s scratching to be our next president first shaved, when Menendez and his tall wife bought their first gold bar — $1 would buy eight loaves of bread, 3 pounds of butter, a shirt, PJs (orlon only).

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