Spaghetti Supergirl

Hey so you are probably desperate for more info on how I started buying old comic books. Well okay if you insist! I was looking through one of the Jerry Lewis comic books that Tom Franklin gave me and I saw an ad for an issue of ACTION COMICS. On the cover, Superman was wearing his Superman suit AND his Clark Kent glasses. WHAT? You heard me. And Supergirl was throwing spaghetti at the Batmobile. For real! And I was like, WHOA. I was like, WHAT IS GOING ON HERE? So this ad, over 40 years old, did its trick. I checked to see whether the place where Tom Franklin buys his old comic books had this particular issue of ACTION COMICS in stock, and friends, they did, and that is how I started buying old comic books and brought shame and ruin to my family.

Entertainment Reporter

Hey I was flipping around on the old television set when I came across an entertainment reporter saying to Morgan Freeman, "What's it like to be called an icon? It's pretty humbling!" That's right, this guy was so excited that he answered his own question, swiftly, without taking a breath, and I think he answered it incorrectly! Life sure is crazy! Gee I sure love telling you all the many ways life is crazy. I don't know what Morgan Freeman said because I kept flipping.

Verbal

The New York Times has a whole op-ed today about how "the French love Jerry Lewis," that's right, the meaningless, miserable old cliché blasted to smithereens years ago by Jonathan Rosenbaum and others. And the op-ed is written by a French person! I think! And Lewis's humor is defined as "nonverbal," which is crazy ("click" here). Nor does the author fail to call Lewis a "depressive clown." Oh no! Is this the kind of stuff I care about? What's wrong with my life? Brian sent me the message that there's an owl in GRAVITY'S RAINBOW and McNeil wanted to remind me that Harvey Lembeck (pictured) and Arnold Stang are in the Tony Randall vehicle HELLO DOWN THERE. What kind of monster am I?

Green Velvet Nothing

When I was watching the odd movie TOP BANANA on TCM last night it seemed very important to mention to you that Phil Silvers wore a green velvet smoking jacket with a black beret while standing in an elevator with leopard-skin print covering the walls, and that later he was wearing a leopard-skin beret with matching ascot (or was the ascot zebra?) but you know what? This morning it seems almost completely unimportant. Sorry! Hey in case you want a list of some other people who have worn green velvet jackets on the "blog" I can think of Charlton Heston, Katt Williams, Smokey Robinson and King Edward III off the top of my head. You're welcome! Is it too early to start drinking?

I'm Ruined

Tom Franklin kindly bought me some Jerry Lewis and Son of Satan comic books (those are two different sets of comic books; at no time do Jerry Lewis and the Son of Satan team up, but wouldn't that be great?). So Tom found this place on the "internet" where you can buy old comic books and it's all he wants to do and now it's all I want to do. Today I bought one where the Silver Surfer battles Dracula (!) and one where Bob Hope encounters a beatnik reciting poetry on the beach (!!) and a few more, and by a few more, I mean I bought all the comic books. Well, not MOD LOVE (above) which was out of stock, and I'm not even sure it's a comic book, but I wanted it, I wanted it so much, and I still want it. Thanks for ruining me, Tom Franklin.

This Is Normal

Hey! Remember how I was reading that memoir by famed comic book writer Grant Morrison, and how surprised and amazed I was when he started all of a sudden talking about his "darker magical operations" and the time he met some angels, or possibly space people, he wasn't sure? And what about the "Golden Age" comic book writer Alvin Schwartz, who met Superman, who was "a creature formed of resplendent talking clay"? All right! Well, people, I just got my June BELIEVER magazine, and there's an interview in there with famed comic book writer Alan Moore, and here, let me quote him for you: "I did have an encounter with something that at least told me it was a demon, and it seemed rude to question that." Don't be rude to a demon! That's my takeaway. Anyway, I guess this is normal for comic book writers! I guess! All right! I am surprised again. (Pictured, the Demon, no relation, a comic book character whom Tom Franklin and I were discussing at lunch just the other day.)

Cold Gloves

"... gusts of wind storming the treetops... and the two dead birds that were laid on the bonnet, for plucking, coming alive, their breast feathers unfolding as they lifted off and did a small circuit that simulated freedom, simulated life. When she caught them they felt soft and furry, like cold gloves that had been left outside." Cold gloves! That's pretty good. From WILD DECEMBERS by Edna O'Brien. I am sorry the birds are dead in that example.

Bob, Birds, Brontë, O'Brien

I was standing in Square Books the other day thinking, "Should I read a book by Edna O'Brien? She had a fling with Robert Mitchum!" That is a terrible reason to read a book but maybe no worse than lots of others. I picked O'Brien's novel WILD DECEMBERS because they compare it to WUTHERING HEIGHTS, my personal fave, on the back. Of course you can't always trust the back of the book to give you the best information. But O'Brien's epigraph is from Emily Brontë, and the title of the book comes from it, so okay. And it's really good so far! The book, I mean, not the epigraph, although the epigraph is just dandy. As soon as the second paragraph of the first chapter I thought we were going to get an owl: "There were birds always," writes O'Brien, and then she lists some birds, but owls are not among them. Still, I'm only on page 22 and there have been tons of birds so far and much talk of birds. I believe there is a fair chance of owls.

Leonard Grew Philosophical

I dreamed I was writing a novel last night. With a pencil! Here was the first sentence: "After his brother died in World War II, Leonard grew philosophical." Terrible! What a terrible sentence, and what an especially terrible first sentence for a novel. Why can't I dream something cool like the woman who wrote TWILIGHT? Remember how I told you it all came to her in a dream? I will quote again from the newspaper: "she had a dream about the characters, who then inhabited her mind and dictated the novels to her." Where's MY big dream payoff? When I woke up this morning my thoughts were muddled and I thought for half a second, "Hey! Maybe I dreamed a great novel!" I was wrong. My dreams have tricked me as usual. The novel I was writing in my dream also had this sentence in it: "Mary was a pretty girl." Ugh! Come on, dream brain! The next sentence: "She was as beautiful as margarine." WHAT? I think that came from the MAD MEN margarine subplot the other night. Why else would I be dreaming about margarine? In my dream I was working on a scene where Leonard goes back (?) to his job at the gas station. They don't have a uniform that fits him, exactly, and he's embarrassed. He's gained weight since he last worked there. Mary comes to the gas station and he fills up the tank and checks the engine. And here's his line of dialogue as she drives away: "Your hair is so yellow!" Dear God. I will let you know if I continue to write this awful historical novel in my dreams. Thanks for nothing, dreams.

Tiny Beatnik

Finn and Jake have a tiny beatnik living in their wall! That's what we learn on tonight's ADVENTURE TIME. Here's a sample of his beatnik poesy! Is this related to the film HIGH SCHOOL CONFIDENTIAL ("click" here for evidence)? Oh, probably not.

Facile Comparison Contemplated

Contemplating a facile comparison of Lauren Graham's novel to DRACULA.