Nothing funny about it except to the 4th Reich rape culture of most violent hate: The Butt of the Joke--my uncle's guest bathroom and it's list of H-wood celebs from 1975 placed artistically on top of the lid of the beautifully decorated H-wood toilet. I used it once, it has followed me around like the Ghost of X-Black-Mass Past-present and hopefully no more future Ghost of H-wood will come to haunt me or my butt ever again. Lucille Ball's name was included in that address book. I wonder if that ghost of Whorewood Past-Present and Not-Future will finally be plunged down to the place my Uncle & his son's spirits reside. My one visit to Beverly Hills at age 10--in the depths of the Illuminous Whiteness of the home of my H-wood producer/writer Uncle, who may have been a severe passive-aggressive comedy pervert just in keeping with his status under the thumb of the 4th Reich celebrities as a good boy from the weak side of Brooklyn, making jokes and viciously assaulting the sacrificial child but supplicating to demanding Nazis like Lucille Ball. She called her former beloved a "loser" after he and she split up--on air--and of course, because she could not dominate him as the blonde Nazi and he finally found comfort elsewhere, she probably did her best to destroy him as the minion who would not serve and obey. My Uncle and his son, on the other hand, were always good and became deformed emotional scumbags. ////: I did know that but it took a "credible" source like Richard Burton, whose voice I do respect (only because I am far distant from him and he is deceased but his movies were of a spectrum aligned with my values): A sort of sinking realization and epiphany about why my (great?) uncle Milt Josefsberg got along so well with Lucille Ball that he co-wrote many of her episodes for years. I can't write why, though, as the "Eye of Sauron" is watching me constantly that I write nothing amiss or controversial questioning the psychological power dynamics or anything related to just not accepting without thought race dynamics and power/subjugation intricacies. No, just plain, he got along with the "power control" Ball by playing ball in the expected way for a good boy outta Brooklyn, but not from the threatening section but from the passive controlled and easily manipulated part of Brooklyn. Not sure exactly if he came from Brooklyn but my father's family had (and direct relations, some moving to CA). //When I met my Uncle in their very nice, whitish home in Beverly Hills back in 1975, his wife--not sure exactly who she was she walked briskly past, glaring almost with a "knowing" look of compressed lips as my "jolly" Uncle focused on me and told me a story about one of his "very funny" comedy routines which I did not find funny even in the slightest. This, too, has a "Freudian" connotation that is, alas, too difficult for the 4th Reich compressors to handle if I so much as hint at any analysis that questions their modus operandi and the darker shades of power and control programming. //The skit did have something to do with a broken shaving cream bottle and foam kept pouring out for a very long time (I can't remember which show he had written this sketch for). He then told me about his son, and eventually I did hang out with his son Steven who told me WONDERFUL stories about H-wood which gave me the initial impression to avoid it altogether. Steven warned me not to go there, but he sent people from LA after me anyway. //How have I, or have I, digressed from the subject of the domineering and controlling nature of Lucille Ball in this post? I know, but I can't write anything unless it showers love and devotion upon things I do not love or find any devotion to. I actually liked the dynamic of Desi & Luci more than the show focusing on her---I think other writers than my Uncle were involved and I think the "I Love Lucy" series was not a huge product of his invention, only the Lucy Show which I never really wanted to watch. //Of course, it's another story with All in the Family which I watched up to the point, I think, when my uncle also began to write for it--I was by that time a bit too busy to sit in front of the tv to focus on that show--(Middle School almost Jr. High so I was going out at night and not watching tv, but that is the only reason). //

 The wonderfully compliant, wonderfully easily to control manipulable minority minion agreeing to being controlled and pushed around on any level. Pushing anyone else possible down if possible. I can't write about what my  "cousin" who really is old enough to have been 10 years younger than my father--but his behavior--oh, only a trickle-down gratuitous promotional grasping behavior he had learned back in Beverly Hills.

"The Burton Diary: He REALLY Didn't Love Lucy". I Did Not Know That. May 25, 2024.

And I do  know now, somehow, how that one piece of stock in Desilu Productions was like a dust-coated relic in the basement of my House of Usher undergoing it's own 4th Reich mind programming re-adjustment that my Uncle's family was undergoing in 4th Reich-wood, H(ell)-wood for the minions who obey and death for those who do not.

Desilu lost it's glam and the company went bust not very long after I had met my Uncle--a few years at most. I think when Ball had fewer people to boss around as her husband--the 4th Reich supremacist one, was not one to be shoved into respective place Ball lost her verve to some degree and then slowly died out, as the studio did as well. My Uncle, not having a 'handler" to tell him what to do, was unable to make the studio work out after all and found no other 4th Reich replacement to be his Nazi approval card for membership any longer. I assume the 4th Reich began to try to get rid of "Jews" in H-wood and a most famous one was Roman Polanski, around that time but earlier. As my uncle was a very good servant to his wife, and I am unsure whether she was a 4th Reich  bigot or another Jew trying to assimilate into the 4th Reich. I only know my "cousin" who was a passive aggressive terrorist and I know he learned how and what to do in H-wood. He brought his LA friends to attack me in an invite to one of his gallery openings (his photography and framing studio, in the Portland "First Thursday" gallery opening nights that were held monthly in the Pearl District. It was a line of what looked like the "bad guys" in The Matrix, dressed in those glossy suits, the women included, all in black---menacing around me and waiting for the most ugly to drug and poison me and inflict an attack that was most creepazoid. My cousin thereafter obtained the death of his mother, who had dyed blondish hair---pale skin--so she was so blank and grim around me while my uncle was making sick "jokes" about non-stop shaving cream pouring out of a can and laughing with drool and spittle coming out of his mouth while I stood there, politely, age 10, trying to appear polite and trying to say it was funny but it was not.

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 I forgot to add that the wife, mother of my "Uncle" (like my great grandfather's age, but a decade younger just like Steven was almost like my father's age but 15 years  younger but still in the same family tree from the same origin/Brooklyn)\

and, her hair was like Lucille's hair, like so many of women of that generation---to appear like a nest or chiffon frosting in a waxed and perfectly non-movable cotton candy curl's design. So many woman of that economic status had the similar hair--puffed up and swirling but air able to get through (all sleeping with scarves or caps to  retain the weird configuration--spraying endless hairspray to keep it all without a hair appearing like an actual piece of hair).

Her demeanor was so artificially pleasant as to be cold and deadly which I sensed but my loquacious uncle was going on directly at me, only me, for about 20 minutes with this one story about a can of shaving cream that could not be stopped--asking me if I thought it was "funny" I said I didn't quite get it but tried to smile and laugh. It was all symbolic. Dirty old goat. He was goaded on by his wife, who was pushing the agenda of the terrorist contract out on me, just as their son had done decades later in Portland.

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But besides my Uncle's phallocentric Freudian "joke" about endless semen pouring out--aimed at me specifically which I had no notion of and wondered (wtf?) why he was only talking to me with his eyes bulging in animation, a bit of spittle dripping out almost on the corner of his mouth as he kept waving his arms about the can of spewing foam that would not stop---(at age 10, from Champaign, Illinois not Los Angeles, there is a huge difference in exposure to sexuality or there was back in 1975 when I was there).

He DID keep his "actors" and other phone number address book directly on TOP OF THE GUEST TOILET, on a very nice doily, all white lace and clean, for guests to read while in that little room. 

I asked him if he had left it there--he said it was for guests to read and I understood the "Humor" about that. I then asked him if Lucy Ball's number was there, and he "oomphed" emphatically and said with a little smirk, "Oh yeah, she's included in it as well!" with mirth. I also got he really did not like her very much but I didn't press the issue further. He offered for me to phone her, I declined realizing that his "jokes" were getting a bit intrusive at that point. 

I never saw him again, and left without thinking about him until I went to Portland and knew that my "cousin" had a studio there. When my uncle died in 1980 or so, I felt absolutely nothing because I was not amused when I had met him, not understanding the joke but the emotion and sentiment it felt creepy. I had also been sent off to "play" with some other "children" in a nearby area on another visit my mother had forced upon us (my sister and brother) in a less affluent area not far from LA. They asked me if I wanted to have sex and the girl, supposedly my age, had long painted nails and was dressed in a tube top and tight jeans. I said no. Where I came from, kids my age didn't even hold hands much less go on dates in the 4th Grade that I was aware of. I was creeped out by the whole thing. I was not impressed with anything I saw while in LA back then. Of course, so much had been forced upon me because I was just 10 years old. I suppose the 4th Reich wants to keep me in that same "child" category all my life of being shunted around to creeps and sleazy users trying to sell me off to  anyone, for as long as possible--=now threatening me to not resist or fight back. Death threats.

LA apparently has gotten much worse than when I was there, in this regard. The "old school" Jews appear to be gone and whatever must have been there were completely brainwashed into the 4th Reich over 50 years ago and now it's much worse than it ever was.