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National Salute To Bob Hope right here in San Diego, right here!

October 3rd, 2008 by Scott Marks

All photos of the National Salute To Bob Hope courtesy PortOfSanDiego.org

Kup’s Column
by Irv Kupcinet

How do you do, ladies and gentlemen. I’d like to say good evening and welcome, to the lively art of conservation. I conserve as I converse and Essee can serve her homemade cookies, Heh! Heh! Kup’s world begins tonight with a birthday fillip in sunny San Diego with my dear friend and cosmic quipster, Ivan Putski…err, uhh…Bunny, Ivan Bunny, I should say..

I’d like to point out that the weather of late has been most uncomfortable in this fair city. This recent heat wave seems to be lasting longer than the annual Casmir Pulaski Day parade. Unlike that toddlin’ town Chicago, most of the local eateries here serve dreck. To make matters worse, nobody here knows me so none of our meals are comped. Given the weatherless climate, many eating establishments do not have air conditioning and I wasn’t about to schvitz my way through a plate of sushi. Who can eat that crapola anyway?

We wound up dining on the fringes of the Gaslamp at the delightful China, Too. (I never knew that John Farrow directed a sequel.) Ivan ordered the moo-goo-tai-pan while this reporter chowed down on a spicy plate of Hu-Hsuang Hsien shrimp which practically burned a hole in my stomach come 3 am. Ivan picked up the check and left a suitable tip.

After squelching our vociferous appetites, we decided to take a stroll by the bay. It was about this time that I felt a strong sensation drawing me north. Earlier in the day, I inexplicably had the urge to Google Bob Hope, madman, in search of photographic evidence of his continuing experiments (from beyond the grave, I might add) in violently insane telepathy. I was temporarily blinded, as though an image that I could not see managed to somehow insert itself amid my thought patterns. My face grew cold and I felt a thrombo coming on. Suddenly, the implanted image suddenly became clearer than the lovely Mitzi Gaynor’s voice: it was of a bronze statue of Bob surround by 15 bronze soldiers.Thank heavens that I was not aware of this battleship accessory when Rob Martin and his family were vacationing in San Diego, otherwise his youngsters would still be feeling the head trauma to this day.

Ivan had seen this happen to me before. Using my beak as a guide, I got in the car and aimed it towards ground zero. We didn’t have too far to travel. There next to the Midw…(The band begins to play Thanks for the Memories.) Gentlemen and ladies, direct from hades where he’s been appearing hourly since 2003, Mr. Robert Hope. Bob, what are you doing crashing my blog entry?

“,,,and Cheney said, ‘I haven’t seen a bigger boob since I performed a mammogram on Dolly Parton.’”

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Filed Under Rants

David Elliott interviewed in San Diego Magazine

July 24th, 2008 by Scott Marks

I’d like to say good evening, and how do you do, ladies and gentlemen. Kup’s world ends tonight with a bunch of bon mots from the lovely Ginette Vicot. (I’d like to point out that long before Jesse Jackson’s corresponding verse, this rhymin’ Hyman had such a funny meter to the roar of his repeater, if you catch my drift.)

It’s been pointed out to yours truly, that not unlike legendary prankster Red ” Aaron Chwatt” Buttons, my friend Donald, err, uhh, David, I should say, Elliott never got a dinner.

You can’t blame a guy for wanting to throw back a few farewell stingers with Burl Stiff and his fellow penman at the Tickled Trout. More than sedi…cough…sentiment and supper, I mean, Dave wanted a chance to bid farewell to his loyal readers who couldn’t wait to rip open the Night and Day section to peruse his latest cinematic missives.

I gotta’ tell you that David was always a good man when we worked together at the Chicago Sun-Times, and according to Essee a very capable wordsmith. I preferred schmoozing with the stars to watching their dreck pictures where I frequently caught some shuteye. If only Elliott had written more about Bears great Sid Luckman, because I never was big on movie reviews. Besides, who am I to critique someone else’s writing? Truth be told, Essee writes most of this crap…Anyway, I’d like to go on record as personally thanking Dave for never letting it be known that I once let loose a trouser fillip in his presence while ascending the Chicago Theatre in their cramped elevator. Yes sir, two rode together and one blew! Heh! Heh!

Since I already ran a photo of Dave and his lovely daughter Samantha, I found it only fitting to publish a shot of his son Tarvis. That Elliott is one loyal foot soldier. I don’t care how much Marshall Field paid me, you’ wouldn’t catch me dead wearing a chazarai Sun-Times t-shirt. Only Manny’s in Elmhurst for this reporter!

Now Ivan Bunny, there’s one for movies! I tell ya’ he sees everything. He was the one that saw Meet Dave. You know, just recently, Bunny’s bald spot finally filled in. I’ll never forget the day he performed a self-inflicted Larry Fine in my office. It was right after he read where Elliott proclaimed The Road to Perdition “the greatest gangster film since The Godfather.” Now I going to stick up for the man because for this reporter’s money Perdition far outclassed Marty Scorceske’s Goodfellows or Casino. I think it was even better than Stop! or My Mom Will Shoot and Feds. (By the way, Mary Gross is a Chicago gal, I might add.)

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Filed Under Interviews, News