What Would Bob Think?

One of the many benefits of living in the Valley, a place I swore to God I would never inhabit, never ever, and I've been here since 1986, is the Bob Hope Airport in Burbank.  Who needs to schlep to LAX when you've got your own small town, folksy airport nearby?  It's so easy to park, check in, depart to exciting locales, or pick up a loved one, as I did yesterday, when I went to fetch the first hubby.  The doors parted and there he was, the fast walker, zooming past Baggage Claim.  "Honey," I said, waving frantically, hoping he still recognized me.  He'd been gone one day.  At this stage, a gal can change overnight in strange ways.  Skin that once situated nicely in its designated spot can sag left or right, depending on how you slept.  Luckily, he remembered the sound of my voice, and turned his head.  "I didn't see you.  Where were you?"  I pointed to the large, blaring video kiosk the airport installed a while back.  It was currently blasting a theatrical trailer for "War Horse" at deafening levels.  I removed my hands from my ears.  "I was trying to get as far away from that horrible thing.  Why is it there?"  Network promo man that he is, he explained that these video kiosks are everywhere now, in shopping centers and markets, anywhere you've got a captive audience.  "I hate them," I said, as we walked to the car.  "I wonder what Bob Hope would think about this sick advertising ploy."  "He'd love it  He'd want to be on there, 24/7, telling jokes."  Like this one: "She said she was approaching forty, and I couldn't help wondering from what direction." Ba-dum-bump!  Personally, I'd prefer a Bob Hope joke-a-thon to movie trailers wailing off the wall in Baggage Claim.