A Man of Song

McNeil was telling me about a journal he has kept for decades and I begged to read it but he said no. Finally, he let me see a sliver from 2003, when I telephoned to inform him about a Bob Hope LP I had purchased. Even though Bob was wearing an ascot on the cover, according to McNeil's journal, I had absolutely no memory of the conversation or the recording. McNeil jostled my memory, and kept jostling it, until the record came dimly back into what I laughingly call my mind. I promised to look for it! For, you see, back in 2003, I had read McNeil the liner notes over the phone, and he wanted to hear them again, now, in our present day. Here's the problem! When we moved into this house, I just threw stuff all over the place. The records are not in any order. Anyway, I finally tracked it down, and I guess the portentousness had amused me, a lot of stuff like, "jokes and comedy are not the whole of Bob Hope. It must also be added that he is a man of song." But! That's not why I called you here today. While McNeil was going through an old box, he found a pack of his grandfather's cigarettes. "Half the smokes are still there!" McNeil boasted. I was most impressed by the brand name... Spud Imperial. I've never heard such a bewitching combination of words. I noticed the word "SAFETY" on the side of the pack (though I seem to have cut it off above), and a little rooting around on the "internet" led me to some magazine ads for Spud Imperial. "They're not a remedy," one warned, in case that was what you thought! I don't "blog" anymore, but when I saw the brand name Spud Imperial, I knew at once that an exception had to be made.

Chicken in the Air

I was watching TO CATCH A THIEF, and there were Cary Grant and Grace Kelly eating chicken and drinking beer. Naturally, I was like, I must email Kent right away! Kent loves eating chicken and drinking beer! I entitled the resulting email "Chicken and Beer," which reminded me that Kent had eaten in the Atlanta airport once, having stumbled upon his ideal restaurant there, a restaurant delightfully named "Chicken and Beer." I did not report on the matter at the time because I had given up "blogging" forever. Kent emailed back that he had recently fried chicken for himself for the first time, with pleasant results. Now, for the record, I must say that Grace Kelly appears to be eating a sandwich, not chicken. Maybe it is a chicken sandwich! We can only hope. I can't recall if the type of sandwich was specified. Cary Grant really appears to go to town on his chicken, but when he is done, and tosses the remains into the picnic basket, I can't say that it looks as if he has really had much chicken at all. In fact, I was appalled at the amount of chicken he appeared to be wasting! Then he starts smooching it up with Grace Kelly, and kind of leans her backwards over the open picnic basket, and I could only imagine that her hair was getting on the chicken. Perhaps I was focusing on the wrong thing. In conclusion, I happened to be emailing my friend Megan about TO CATCH A THIEF and, in response, she brought up, independently, of all scenes, not knowing of my recent correspondence on the matter, the chicken scene! Chicken is in the air. And in the hair!

McNeilileaks

It has been a while, as I don't "blog" anymore, but we just got in some "McNeilileaks," which is where I leak the private contents of McNeil's email. McNeil sent along the above comic book cover, commenting, "I'm not sure why I think it's hilarious. Adam's pose?" As for me, I think it's the line, "You're holding up the war," which sounds like the title of a 60s comedy. YOU'RE HOLDING UP THE WAR, if it existed, would star Robert Morse, Ernie Kovacs, Tony Curtis, and Paula Prentiss, or so I decided last night as I lay in bed unable to sleep.

Regarding Plovers' Eggs

I'm sure you've been wondering whether there was any controversial fallout over yesterday's plovers' eggs "post." As a matter of fact, novelist Jeff Abbott introduced me to a storyline in which Jimmy Olsen is called upon to rustle up some plovers' eggs (see above). The tale introduced a young Jeff Abbott to the concept of plovers and their eggs and he never forgot it.

Pen Runs Over a Bottle

1. Lee was about to pull up to give me a ride to Memphis when I discovered that the button on my jacket was precariously loose. It took the desperate combined efforts of Dr. Theresa and me to thread a needle. Suddenly that infomercial I saw in January 2011 about an innovative needle with a huge eye didn't seem so damn funny anymore. Once we got the needle threaded, precious seconds ticking away, Dr. Theresa secured that button in place like a speed demon. But that wasn't the end of the troubles! This is exciting already. So! 2. When Lee and I were about halfway to Memphis, I glanced down to discover that I was wearing the wrong shoes. For you see, I had an appointment at the Magic Castle in Hollywood later in the week, thanks to my friend Kate, who is a magician, and they (the Magic Castle, not magicians in general, nor Kate in particular) have a dress code, for which reason, and with some exaltation, I had recently purchased my very first ascot. Anyway, Dr. Theresa had to mail me my shoes. Or they would have never let me into the Magic Castle! 3. The Von's across from my hotel in Burbank no longer stocks the gigantic bottles of seltzer I like. 4. I saw Kent, who happened to be visiting from his new home (well, he's been there a long time now!) in Vermont. He wasn't going to the Magic Castle with us but asked whether I had been with him at the Magic Castle years ago when a guy made a baby appear. I said I thought I would remember something like that, but now I wonder. Was I? Did I? Would I? 5. Kent told me a dream he had had the night before, which I will abbreviate to its ruin. A yellow cobra comes out of a faucet and starts fighting a rat. Then a monkey runs into the room, grabs up the cobra, and begins choking the rat with it! I suggested that the yellow cobra coming out of the faucet meant that Kent needed to pee. 6. In TENDER IS THE NIGHT (the book I brought to read on the airplane) someone's monocle falls out due to a surfeit of emotion! Like in a cartoon! 7. Kent walked by while I was talking on the phone to Dr. Theresa. "Did you tell her about my dream?" he asked. Ha ha! Sure, we kidded him, it was the top of our agenda. Dr. Theresa used to call Kent "Big City" as part of an inside joke. Now, as she decided during the very phone call being described, she's going to call him "Big Maple." Because of Vermont. He has a beard now! Because of, I assume, Vermont. As these shenanigans were taking place I was about to leave for the Magic Castle, so Kent fussily rearranged my ascot (which I had tied myself; I'm not so hot with ties, but noting the ascot loophole in the Magic Castle's dress code, I deduced that an ascot would be easier to tie than a regular necktie... and I was right! An ascot, in its raw appearance, is like a big clown tie). 8. There are some things I can't tell you about the Magic Castle but maybe one day I will. One of them involved the invisible piano player who performs there. I wish I could tell you! Another guy kept making lemons appear out of thin air. Where were those lemons coming from? It was crazy! Magic is crazy. 9. At a Holiday Inn with Julia Pott, Pen, and Kent. "It is happening again," Julia kept saying during the karaoke at the Holiday Inn, purposely and accurately invoking TWIN PEAKS. Everyone there had chosen a sad song, as if by psychic prearrangement. Pen and Julia are especially fine dancers. Kent is a great dancer too, but what I remember is Kent and me sitting at a tall two-top with our really bad drinks, watching the fluid motions of Julia and Pen under the spell of a scrawny white-haired stranger moaning a song of absent love. (Pictured, above, a higher floor of the Holiday Inn.) 10. Back at my own hotel, alone... they were shutting down the bar when I came in... as I was sipping my nightcap a couple sat down next to me, a man and a woman. "The bar is closed," said the bartender, Harvey by name. "But we're getting married tomorrow!" objected the woman. Harvey has been known to do me a favor, so I proclaimed with a flourish, "Oh, allow me to get these two some champagne!" To which the bride-to-be responded quite severely, "No." Then, after a pause, "I want a 'chard.'" So I was like, "Never mind!" She went on: "Champagne is for tomorrow." And I said, "I understand." Why was I trying to force champagne down the throat of these innocent victims? And so to bed, as Samuel Pepys would say. 11. Now we have reached Saturday, and - speaking of Samuel Pepys - a bawdy section of our tale, so be forewarned, as bawdiness was not an area in which I normally dabbled, back in the days when I "blogged." At home on the Saturday in question, Dr. Theresa was suffering the calamity of a football game day. The streets were wild, she reported, and the home team was playing a team called "something like the Cockmasters," an assertion on her part that made both of us laugh even as she said it. "Well, it's something like that," she repeated, and vowed to find out. I begged her not to enter "Cockmasters" into the search engine of the computer. Anyway, it was the Gamecocks, which Dr. Theresa said she liked even less than Cockmasters, given the actual name's association with the practice of animal cruelty. 12. Talked by phone to Megan Abbott. We spent some incredible amount of time (I will say 20 minutes) just parsing the monocle sentence from TENDER IS THE NIGHT (see #6, above): "His monocle fell out, with no whiskers to hide in - he drew himself up." Megan solved it for me. She also said I sounded sedated, like late-stage Judy Garland. From Megan that's a compliment! 13. "I'm happy talking to an idiot." - Rae Gray. 14. Saw Rae Gray and Ashly Burch and many others at a kind of sendoff before Kent returned to Vermont. Talked about books a lot with Rae and Ashly and we laughed uproariously about a number of things, as well as becoming somber and contemplative when the occasion arose. Steve Little was there and when he saw my jotting book he produced his own jotting book in solidarity! Then I admitted I had neglected to bring a pen and he seemed disappointed in me. 14. My friend had a birthday party. Hmm! I can't remember why he's always anonymous. Maybe I made him anonymous because I didn't know him that well when he started appearing on the "blog." Anyway, now he's anonymous forever and subsequently my tales of his birthday party will be shrouded in vagueness and mystery... like why were at least half a dozen cast members of VERONICA MARS there, supplemented by the equally dazzling stars of iZOMBIE and PARTY DOWN? See? Already I've said too much... let me be clear. My friend was not the creator of VERONICA MARS, whom I did meet for the first time that night, however, and who, upon learning that I reside in Mississippi, told me he had played at a club in Jackson in 1985, but he couldn't remember the name. I was pleased to correctly assume he meant a place named W.C. Don's, and to tell him the possibly true fact which I barely recalled hearing somewhere that it had burned to the ground. I played there in 1990. We just missed each other! He swiftly produced a photo of himself with a mullet in front of W.C. Don's. 15. My friend Joey, knowing me to be a huge VERONICA MARS fan, introduced me to Kristen Bell, to whom I remarked how surreal it was for me to see the residents of Neptune (the town where the show takes place) walking around, which prompted her to explain to me the concept of acting, ha ha! I'm making it sound like she thought I didn't know the difference between fiction and reality but that wasn't the case... I hope! No, she was explaining from long experience why people feel and act the way they do when they see someone who performed in something in which they (the viewer) became emotionally invested. But just for a joke (and because it was true) I pretended to conflate another actor from the show with his character, leaning in and murmuring confidentially, "Don't be alarmed, but Logan is standing right behind you." And then an incredible thing happened. Kristen Bell became Veronica Mars! Her voice and posture changed instantly, and she said in character, "That's okay, I have eyes in the back of my head." What a good sport to indulge me so! And what a dexterous display. It was something to witness, and I felt lucky to witness it. Then I ate some creamed corn. 16. The next day Pen and I were out doing stuff and we stopped on a side street. Pen said, "I'm going to park my car better." We were already on the sidewalk. Pen hopped back in his car and pulled up a few inches and immediately ran over a bottle that disintegrated into a million sprinkles of brown glass with a terrible BANG! I jumped and started laughing. We had just been discussing Groucho Marx in the car, and that's where my mind was. "I'm going to park my car better." POW! The timing was perfect. In a movie, his tire would have gone pssssssssssst, but the tire was fine. 17. "You think you're with a decent candy maker and then he starts screamin' at you," is one thing Pen said about Willy Wonka. 18. "It was often easier to give a show than to watch one." - TENDER IS THE NIGHT. 19. Sitting in the airport thinking I have nice shoes but my socks are falling down. As long as I bought an ascot, why not sock garters? 20. Also I saw a man with shoes so shiny they made me ashamed. Maybe his shoes were TOO shiny. Blindingly gleaming they were! Dr. Theresa always says she likes a leather shoe that's been broken in so it has some character. She understands me! 21. Rising to depart from the plane which had returned me to the Memphis airport, I heard a plaintive meowing behind me that made me pine for home. Why, this passenger had been traveling with her cat the whole time and I never knew.

Please Don't Feed the Platypus

Just received the new Doomed Book Club selection, MY WICKED, WICKED WAYS by Errol Flynn. The epigraph is three Bible verses about being wicked! So right away you know you're in for a good time. Ace is way ahead of the rest of us on this one. Yesterday he tweeted that Errol Flynn is running a coconut farm - is that what he tweeted? - in the section Ace is reading now. As Ace said would happen, a young Errol Flynn accidentally kills two platypuses by feeding them tadpoles! They are supposed to only eat worms! That's what Errol Flynn says. And his dad is a famous biologist, so I believe him. Poor Flynn gets shipped off to boarding school. "The assistant headmaster was a wonderful old gentleman aged about sixty, with the picturesque name of Sir Worthbottom Smith, a down-at-heels English aristocrat, a man with a withered arm..." But Flynn gets shuffled from school to school, always stirring up a ruckus. Now he's in trouble for sneaking out of the window at night so he can canoodle with Elsie, the maid. Before such tales of youth there's a prologue that takes place during the ruination of Errol Flynn's career. It promises much getting drunk on yachts, like the Richard Burton diaries and the Johnny Carson biography before it. Flynn learns that he is completely broke: "I went to '21' that day for lunch... when you are down and out, go to the best spots." A friend shows up and Flynn insists on buying lunch: "When flat, put on the old front - you know." Yes, Errol Flynn! I do know! "I started with a couple of Jack Roses beforehand. I worked up in my usual style to grouse freshly flown from Scotland..." Errol Flynn!

Dreaming About Capitalism

Dozed off watching more of BACHELOR IN PARADISE... had hazy thoughts about capitalism... Bob Hope and Lana Turner in parallel aisles of a supermarket, moving the same way at the same speed, but unaware of one another, cut off from true connection by a bright wall of goods... looked like Godard to me... or was it Jacques Tati... Hey, remember that other time a Bob Hope movie reminded me of Godard? Ha ha ha oh boy gee life is pointless. Woke up and watched some more. Look at this neat bar Bob has in his house. Then he donned an ascot and gave a talk to a ladies' garden club about how to make their marriages sexy.

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?

Dance Craze

Watching part of a movie called THE COOL ONES on TCM. It's mostly Roddy McDowall in lots of paisley ascots and sunglasses and convertibles and tight suits, and what's wrong with that? (See also.) He's the millionaire manager (I think) of a band who sings the dance craze hit "Have a Tantrum." When the music stops, everybody freezes. The singers then advise them to "have a tantrum." When the music starts back up, everybody "has a tantrum," shaking and quaking and such. When the music pauses once more, they freeze anew, awaiting the repeated instruction to "have a tantrum," which they obey once more. And so on. Can there be any neater example of repressive desublimation? I think not! Like, you know, is dance itself the very primeval essence of repressive desublimation? All that dangerous potential energy expended in a regimented way, according to explicit instruction from an approved intermediary of the powers that be, as represented, in this case, by Roddy McDowall? Do you care? I find that difficult to believe. Yet here we are.

The Pipe-Smoking Scientist Next Door

Well, the Paul Anka voyeurism movie was all right! A grim little slice of suburban rot. As I am certain you will recall, I wondered how it would stand up to BEAT GIRL. It had none of BEAT GIRL's madcap delirium. The Paul Anka voyeurism movie was unrelievedly, oppressively, suffocatingly gloomy. Unlike Beat Girl, Paul Anka doesn't have any pals. He goes out at night and some dudes surround him and promise to set him up with a "divorcée" - but they're just teasing Paul Anka! "You'll be climbing the walls yelling 'Mama! Mama! Mama!'" they remark. Speaking of which, there are two cops: an old-school cop and his young partner who has taken courses in psychology, which the older cop never tires of mocking. When the young cop says that the neighborhood peeping tom (Paul Anka, natch!) "wants to be caught" because he is "making himself known," the older cop sneers and makes a wisecrack, something like, "Freud goes to the police academy." Almost immediately thereafter, the old cop polishes his gun while talking about his mother! "She never had a dirty thought in her life," he insists. Should I note here that there will be Paul Anka voyeurism movie spoilers? I am reminded of Freud fan Megan Abbott's remark in an interview I did with her long ago: "every act of immorality is a secret cry for correction." What else happens? Well, Jack Cassidy ties his ascot effortlessly while smoking a cigarette! And after those guys taunt him, Paul Anka wanders off to four more bars of the fairly skimpy theme song, including the line (I think) "I walk alone in the city." Paul Anka is somewhat Travis Bickle-ish here. Or Bicklish, like ticklish. He goes to a newsstand and looks at magazines with titles like INTIMATE and REAL SECRETS, then he jumps on a trampoline in slow motion with his shirt unbuttoned! Jack Cassidy's neglected wife is seduced by the wise, pipe-smoking scientist next door. "Like chocolate cake?" is his opening line. Soon she is saying, "I never knew kisses could be so tender!" But it's okay because Jack Cassidy has run off to Las Vegas with Paul Anka's mom, who just dropped the hose in the yard and left it going while she made out with Jack Cassidy in his convertible right there in broad daylight in front of the cops, who are on stakeout. But that's okay because HER unemployed husband has passed out on the couch. The amazing denouement occurs during a Fourth of July lawn party that devolves into swimming-pool-based debauchery, and from thence into a bloodthirsty mob! The old cop gets drunk on whiskey and ginger ale and starts firing his gun indiscriminately as Paul Anka (whose mother, we learn, has taught him to cha-cha!) scampers over the rooftops in his horrifying mask (pictured!).

The Great Ascot Chase

Watched the first few minutes of the Paul Anka voyeurism movie. It starts with a woman lounging around in shiny pants. "Look at her crazy pants!" said Dr. Theresa. "That's just what Paul Anka is doing," I replied. And sure enough, there was Paul Anka, crouching in the shadows. He wrote the title song and sings it in a piercing, high-pitched whine: "I look in any window/ I walk by any open door/ To see if someone will love me/ Love me forever more." That's the whole song! Just four lines. No chorus or anything. That's some short song. Then the credits start. After the credits, Paul Anka creeps through the bushes. Paul Anka scrambles onto a roof. Paul Anka startles the neighbors by throwing rocks into their swimming pool. He's standing on the roof wearing a really creepy mask! Down below, Jack Cassidy is wearing an ascot! Seems like Jack Cassidy was always wearing an ascot, doesn't it? Jack Cassidy chases Paul Anka but Paul Anka gets away. Now Paul Anka is eating an apple so I thought I would come in here and type this up.

Revenge of "Blog"danovich

Hey, remember December 5, 2006? Brian Z. does! And with good reason! That's when I came up with the hilarious "blogging" name Peter "Blog"danovich. I am sure all of you remember where you were when you first heard the phrase "Peter 'Blog'danovich." I heard it in my brain as I was inventing it with the famed creativity of my effervescent imagination. Well, Brian Z. reports that Peter Bogdanovich has stolen my great idea by starting a "blog" called "Blogdanovich." Here's what Peter Bogdanovich says in his introductory "post": "I had no idea what a blog was. A blob? No, blog!" Ha! Nice try, but playing it coy won't help! You know exactly what you're doing. I deserve half of your money, "Blog"danovich!

A Big Year For Gold Lamé Banjo Straps

Recently I was up before dawn watching Porter Wagoner again. He was wearing a red shirt and a green jacket with sparkling yellow ears of corn represented. And for some reason he was holding up a big, scary picture of Jack Palance, which surprised me. Turned out Jack Palance was there to sing some songs! And the big, scary picture was Jack Palance's album cover! So Jack Palance sang "Green, Green Grass of Home." Here is a picture of him singing on the very show. My one regret is that his microphone hand is blocking a proper view of his ascot. His singing voice was not the most accurate in regard to pitch. Sometimes he half-talked it. He was dramatic to make up for his problem staying in tune. For example, "Down the road I look and here comes Mary/ Hair of GOLD! and lips like CHERRIES!/ It's GOOD! to touch the green, green grass of home." Mr. Palance came back out later and sang a song about beating a man to death with a chain! For real! His rhythm slipped and he got a fraction behind the beat but the band just kept plugging along, trying to help him out. He and Porter exchanged the most halfhearted pleasantries I have ever witnessed. Porter had to remind Jack Palance to hold the microphone to his mouth when he talked. On this episode, Porter Wagoner's band wore solid pink suits with white shoes and sparkling purple ties. A featured banjo player had a sparkling golden banjo strap. He did a neat trick in which he would bend the notes his banjo was playing by adjusting the tuning keys while continuing to pick with admirable rapidity. Dolly Parton sang a song. She was great. Her guitar strap appeared to be fashioned of gold lamé. The capsule description of the episode indicated that it was from 1970.

Further Inquiries

Don't be so hard on yourself, Pendarvis! That was probably an ascot Jerry was wearing. But it was pretty big. Been thinking about ascots lots. Why not? How big has an ascot got to be before an ascot has got not to be an ascot? Also, on the subject of Marjie Millar: she has a "j" and an "a" where you expect a "g" and an "e." That's more of an observation. Maybe I have thought enough now about MONEY FROM HOME. Photo: "Hello? This is Marjie Millar speaking. How may I help you? Uh-huh... uh-huh... Yes, it was definitely an ascot."

Saffron Ascot Neither?

That ascot wasn't saffron. Just made me feel like a big shot to say it: a saffron ascot. Also: was it really an ascot?

A Very Nice Brown Hat

More thoughts on MONEY FROM HOME 1) Yes, he does ride a horse backwards, but at no point does Jerry Lewis brandish a bloody knife - or even come close to brandishing a bloody knife! - as seen in the bizarre Belgian movie poster. 2) I want a suit like Dean Martin wears at the beginning of the movie. It's blue pinstripe. Also, a luxurious, rich indigo shirt. I asked Dr. Theresa to name the color of the tie, and she said "golden." I don't know, it may be paler. Plus a very nice brown hat. 3) Jerry Lewis's blue jacket is not too shabby, either. Light and dark blue, alternating, with a bright yellow (almost saffron?) ascot. 4) Who is Marjie Millar (pictured)? I have no idea. A cutie pie, but other than that I have no idea. At one point she wears a white-and-green dress with white gloves and white beaded purse that would perfectly suit Dr. Theresa. We discussed it.

Literary Matters

I can't believe myself. Here I am with two more "Literary Matters." I didn't even realize they were literary matters until I finished typing them up. But I can't lie to myself. I apologize for inflicting more literary matters on you so soon. I'm a monster! 1) I have been looking through A NEW LITERARY HISTORY OF AMERICA, co-edited by Greil Marcus, who may disapprove of me. My favorite part so far, by leaps and bounds, is the article on Hank Williams (he's from Alabama!), and it appears that Maud Newton feels the same way. She includes a lengthy excerpt on her "blog." And as a bonus, it turns out that she loves Roger Miller, one of my favorite singer-songwriters. (Please recall our shared affection for Peter De Vries and Charles Willeford.) My favorite part of the excerpt (and the original article) is Harlan Howard's analysis of the first verse of "Cold, Cold Heart," which is "invisibly held together by fifteen internal r phonemes." Observes Mr. Howard, "Once these words are put together this way, they don’t come apart.” A nice goal for a writer in there. 2) Speaking of which, I am reading REPETITION by Kierkegaard, and the plot is a lot like a THREE'S COMPANY episode, no kidding. This guy wants to break up with his girlfriend, but he wants it to be HER idea, so the narrator (Kierkegaard's stand-in) hires a seamstress to PRETEND (for a year!) to be the guy's other, secret girlfriend to make the real girlfriend jealous. Hilarity ensues when Kierkegaard's friend chickens out. Or philosophy ensues, I guess. At one point, the Kierkegaardian narrator explains why he is keeping his descriptions short, why he is not bringing in "a mass of unrelated things, parlours and dress and beautiful scenery, relatives and friends." He says, "I like lettuce, but I eat only the heart; the leaves, it seems to me, are for pigs." So think about that, too. (This "post" cries out for a brand new illustration - or two! - of Don Knotts as Mr. Furley. I don't know how much longer I can keep up my big artsy "random picture" idea.)