The Old Garbage Hole

Remember how I told you I was on a podcast and forgot to promote the pilot that Pen and I made? Well, that's okay! The podcast is out but we just heard the pilot has been pushed down the old garbage hole into reject town. The axe has fallen. We got the old heave-ho. They're not making a show out of it is what I'm trying to say. For more information about how pilots work, see Uma Thurman's monologue on the subject in PULP FICTION. Anyhow! The host of the podcast, Andy Beckerman, is a fine young man. Fine young man! So don't disapppoint him. Don't you dare disappoint him! I won't see you harm a hair on his precious head with your cruel indifference! Don't listen to the podcast for me. No, just push me down the old garbage hole with all my hopes and dreams. It's where I belong! Listen to the podcast for him! Do it for Andy Beckerman! You know, this was my first real podcast appearance to my way of thinking, and I made some rookie mistakes, some of which have already been covered in previous "posts" for your convenience. Well, I should be clear. I've been on two other podcasts, but they don't count. One was about ADVENTURE TIME, and it was recorded back in the days when I would work on a story and then move on to the next story, and the next story, and lots of other stories, and I wouldn't see the episode or know how it had evolved until roughly nine months later, when it appeared on my actual television set, which is a thing people used to have in their homes. So these guys from the ADVENTURE TIME podcast had seen a screener of an upcoming episode ("Football," season 7 episode 5) and had a lot of great questions about it, but I had no idea what they were talking about. My brain was somewhere else by then! So they were a bit put out with me. I don't recall what I ended up muttering about instead. But you could barely call it a podcast. My fault, not theirs! Another podcast was the one I did with Ace Atkins when my book SWEET BANANAS came out. Now, that one, it was exactly the same sort of conversation Ace and I have when we walk around the neighborhood, so I don't count it. It was too easy! Anyway, with Mr. Beckerman, I got the idea that my main job was to talk, so I rushed to fill any microsecond of perceived silence with whatever wild notion pushed its way to the front. I was under the sway of what Edgar Alan Poe referred to as "The Imp of the Perverse."

Colors That Don't Have Names

I've seen a lot of interesting things about lighters lately but I'm not even going to tell you. Remember when I wrote a book about cigarette lighters? And then occasionally I would run across some tidbit I was sad not to have put in the book? Well, as the months advance, my feelings of urgency grow remote. BUT! I was watching PARIS HOLIDAY yesterday and Anita Ekberg cozies up to Bob Hope and asks for a light (as a pretext for picking his pocket). "If we were any closer, we wouldn't need the lighter," cracks Bob. And I know if I had seen it in time, that scene would have gone straight in to my lengthy section on sexual aspects of cigarette-lighting - ha ha, yes, my nonfiction book about cigarette lighters is just as thrilling as it sounds. Now I will change the subject! But I will return to the subject. PARIS HOLIDAY has a scene in which Bob's head appears in the business end of a guillotine. So often his movies contain a fantasy of official (usually public) execution, whether by axe, noose, electric chair, or some other means. I'd bet a million dollars he faces a firing squad in one. What's going on, Bob? I'll say again that somebody should write a paper about it but I'm too tired. Speaking of gruesome scholarly papers, I had an email from Liam. He has moved away, so he caught me up on some of his recent activities: "I was going to medical history lectures where I learned about 'mumia' (which, as you may know, was a cure-all made from mummies) and about people who thought/think that people can't see colors that don't have names." Later in our correspondence he sent me an extraordinarily gruesome article by the person who had lectured on "mumia." AND! It contained more than one point very relevant to my cigarette lighter book, particularly clarifying or confirming some of the more harrowing tales of terror that Ted Ballard told me in his metal barn filled with his collection of 30,000 lighters on a lonesome stretch of road in Oklahoma. I can't "link" to the article because it's just too gruesome. And I can't quote from it because quoting from it without "linking" to it would be rude.

Amongst the Region's Fearful Residents

Last night at a City Grocery Bar get-together to welcome our new writer-in-residence, the great short story writer and novelist Mary Miller, Lee Durkee was talking about how many swans Richard III used to eat and Ace Atkins was astonished when I claimed never to have seen the movie FLUFFY. Looking at the poster Ace emailed me (above; the guy with the hatchet makes me nervous), hmm. Maybe I have seen it. It seems to fit snugly in that group of films I used to watch that included Soupy Sales learning how to fly and Mickey Rooney hanging out with a talking duck. From the imdb summary of FLUFFY: "Wherever he goes, Potter's ponderous pet incites mayhem amongst the region's fearful residents... Our heroes find themselves on the run from the law when Fluffy is accused of eating someone!"

Big Bob Hope Head Chop Confirmation

Rented CASANOVA'S BIG NIGHT because I haven't seen it since I was a little kid, and I wanted to confirm that Bob Hope gets his head chopped off at the end, which terrified me during my cowardly, cringing childhood the way I told you. I don't want to lie to you! Besides, there is nothing anyone enjoys more than reading about the dumb things that scared "bloggers" when they were children. Now I have watched CASANOVA'S BIG NIGHT and I can tell you two or three things: 1) IT IS THE GREATEST MOVIE EVER MADE. 2) There's a moment when Bob Hope escapes from his tiny dungeon cell using a tunnel that ends up leading to an even tinier cell, filled with other prisoners who have also tried to escape. Is that like Samuel Beckett? No, it's much more like Bunuel. I know I promised many years ago to stop comparing every weird thing in a movie to Bunuel, and I have tried to stick to it, but that really is something that would happen in a Bunuel movie, I can't help it, sue me, that's Bunuel's view of the world in a nutshell, really. All the other prisoners laugh at Bob Hope and he says, "It's not that funny." Bunuel! 3) Yep, he gets his head chopped off. And I remembered what was so scary to me as a child: you see the swift axe (it wasn't a guillotine: that I misremembered) come down almost all the way to his neck before there's a freeze frame. The eternally suspended axe - blurred from the inevitable speed with which death visits us all - looms over Bob Hope's head in his monstrously protracted final second of existence! Then there's some "postmodern" (I guess) biz where Bob steps out of character to beg us - the audience! - for his life... and WE BETRAY HIM. What exactly is being said about complicity, passivity, spectatorship, consumerism, power, the element of Dionysian sacrifice snaking through all popular entertainment? Nothing, probably. Why don't I just go to hell?

Two Things from the Newspaper

1) Hey! ADVENTURE TIME, on which I have been so happy to do a little work lately, is one of the top ten TV shows of the year, according to the New York Times. So all right! 2) Some poor old dude's obit in the New York Times. The first five paragraphs are about Frank Sinatra and Joltin' Joe DiMaggio busting down a door - with an axe? - to get at him. (He was really across the street, putting the moves on Marilyn Monroe.) Frank doesn't come off too well in that anecdote, does he? I think, as so oft I do, of Kelly Hogan and her famous ambivalence. The problem is compounded by the fact that Frank appears to have bullied his way into this poor guy's obituary - with an axe! - and taken it over completely.

Game of Bob

Hey look Megan Abbott sent me this picture of Bob's head being taken somewhere in a truck. I was just thinking about Bob Hope the other night as I watched GAME OF THRONES. Like, "What this show needs is Bob Hope!" You know, how he used to be the only nervous, modern-seeming guy in a period setting. The example below isn't exactly what I was looking for, though his expression after he has a pinch of snuff does exemplify what I think he could bring to GAME OF THRONES, and the women in this scene are treated more or less like most of the women in GAME OF THRONES, and the boring dialogue about plans we don't understand is like GAME OF THRONES, and ha ha, sure, the part where the stalk of celery he's holding goes limp, they need lots more stuff like that in GAME OF THRONES, but what I really wanted here and couldn't find was the kind of quip Bob makes after running into a large, mean henchman or a guy with an executioner's axe, or while breaking the fourth wall after sneaking away from a battle, you know what I mean, no you don't.

Good Whistling!

Remember how I told you Kelly Hogan has one of those tumblrs? I guess yesterday she re-"posted" my "post" about the elusive Charles Portis/Roger Miller article and then - "literally 20 seconds later," she assures me - one of her fans sent her a pdf of the whole thing! Such is the power of Hogan. (That's not the way she put it! She's no braggart. She didn't even use the word "fan," though that is how the guy identified himself.) So now I will be able to peruse the article at my leisure and glean for you all the nuggets for which you could ever wish. Here is Kelly's "post" of my "post," and we see once again that the "internet" is the snake that devours itself. Yum yum! Speaking of snakes, the last time I mentioned vipers I should have included a "link" to this song about another kind of viper. That would have been clever. And speaking of gleaning nuggets, here's some more from John Aubrey's BRIEF LIVES: A knight once challenged Sir William Petty to a duel. "Sir William is extremely short sighted, and being the challengee it belonged to him to nominate the place and weapon. He nominates, for the place, a darke Cellar, and the weapon to be a great Carpenter's Axe. This turned the knight's challenge into Ridicule, and so it came to naught... Sir William Petty had a boy that whistled incomparably well. He after wayted on a Lady, a widowe, of good fortune. Every night this boy was to whistle his Lady asleepe. At last shee could hold out no longer, but bids her chamber-mayd withdrawe: bids him come to bed, setts him to worke, and marries him the next day. This is certyn true." See, I was going to end this "post" with a youtube video of "England Swings" by Roger Miller, because John Aubrey's England certainly "swings" - ha ha! - plus there is lots of whistling in that song, golly I impress myself, what a double whammy! But instead I found this video ("click" here) of Roger Miller singing with Dean Martin.

He Really Hates That Axe

I suppose you're wondering why I haven't been "blogging" as much as usual. What? You haven't noticed? Well, that just hurts my feelings. But I've been thinking about this GAME OF THRONES business, and naturally I decided to write one of these sprawling fantasy epics. For real! Except mine's going to be "funny" and everyone will hate it. That's my trademark! I've been writing up a storm (79 pages), plus doing some research: reading one of these WHEEL OF TIME books by Robert Jordan. I've never read them before. I grabbed one at random. I don't understand it at all! It's 981 pages long, and then there's a glossary! I was on a panel with Robert Jordan once. He was wearing his hat and rings and sunglasses and brandishing an ornate cane - he really made an impression. Plus he was incredibly gracious and nice. It was one of my first panels as a "writer" and he - a million seller many times over - made me feel welcome and part of the club. I was sorry to hear he passed away not too long ago. So on page 59 of this book of his I'm reading, a guy's axe suddenly comes to life and attacks him. It flies around the room and tries to chop off his head. "'Just you and me now,' he snarled at the axe. 'Blood and ashes, how I hate you!'" That's just crazy. Everything about it is immune to parody. So you can see my problem. You've really put me in a spot, Robert Jordan.

Advice For People Who Like to Take Naps

Do you ever take a nap with the TV on? Sure, why not? Sometimes that background burble is just the thing you need to lull you into a peaceful slumber on the couch, with the added bonus that our nation's hardworking advertisers get direct access to your subconscious mind! Win-win, right? But NEVER TRY TO TAKE A NAP during a broadcast of the 1979 monster movie PROPHECY. Almost everything about it DEFIES YOU TO TAKE A NAP. Because you are constantly like, "WHAT?" Like IN THE FIRST 30 MINUTES there is a man with a chainsaw fighting a man with an axe AND a fast-motion attack from a crazed raccoon! ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME PEOPLE? How are you going to take a nap during that? You are NOT! This is what I learned yesterday afternoon. And today I thought, "I bet my 'internet' pen pal who likes KINGDOM OF THE SPIDERS has something to say about PROPHECY on his 'web' site." And of course I was right! "Click" here if you do not mind a spoiler or two, especially for his description of a key scene, THE key scene, an unforgettable bit of gory slapstick involving this dozing youngster completely cocooned in his bright yellow sleeping bag like a helpless banana while a mutant bear is on the loose, maybe another bad time to take a nap.

Headline!

And then there's this obituary in today's New York Times where the guy is called a "cantankerous Hellfighter" in the headline! That's what I want the headline of my obituary to say. "His daughter characterized him as a 'barroom brawler' and 'hell on wheels,' who 'too often let his fists do the talking.'" That's another part of the obituary. Then it tells about the time his friend almost had to cut off his leg with an axe!

Gnarled

I watched THE BELLBOY yesterday. This time I was struck by one scene above all others. In that scene, Jerry Lewis plays himself. Shawn Levy describes the scene in his book KING OF COMEDY: THE LIFE AND ART OF JERRY LEWIS, so I will take the shortcut of using his words here: "The star arrives in a limousine escorted by a cadre of motorcycle cops. He is accompanied by an entourage of twenty-seven sycophants, all of whom emerge from the limo before him. His handlers brush off his clothing so much they rumple him; when he starts to smoke, so many lighters snap open in front of his face that his cigarette is crushed; when he tells the hotel manager he isn't feeling well because of a death in the family, the entourage breaks out in phony laughter." What struck me yesterday was the remarkable continuity between that scene and Jerry's portrait of celebrity more than 20 years later in THE KING OF COMEDY (the Scorsese movie, not to be confused with Levy's similarly titled book, which is absolutely essential and very tough on its subject, yet fair, thoughtful, and appreciative), especially - but not limited to - the plea for release he improvises in character to his captors. I sat down to "blog" about this four or five times yesterday, but each time weariness overcame me, yoked with the thought, you know, "Who cares?" But then I remembered the wise words of Chuang Tzu. Let me refresh your memory if you are too tired to "click": Chuang Tzu and a pal of his are talking about the uselessness of a big old gnarled tree and Chuang Tzu is like, "What does not invite the axe/ No creature will harm/ What cannot be used/ No troubles will befall." And I was like, "Yeah." So, in other words, now I'm "blogging" BECAUSE it doesn't matter and no one cares. Which gives me the strength to add that in his film (sic) ANTICIPATION, Godard had Anna Karina quote one of the last lines from THE BELLBOY. Also that the opening narration of THE BELLBOY is spoken by object of mild "blog" curiosity Walter Winchell. And now you know... THE REST OF THE STORY. This is Paul Harvey........... Good day!

Literary Matters

Just finished PICTURES AT A REVOLUTION, in which the feeble fleshly casing of Bob Hope serves as a repository for all that is evil in the world. I'm so sensitive! I just take up for Bob because he's not around anymore to do it for himself. Aside from my tenderness on that subject, I found it a most agreeable book and do recommend it to one and all. Next up, not that you care, the novel RAVEL by Jean Echenoz, who I believe once wrote a novel set in heaven, using Dean Martin as a character. I need to find that one. Not that you care, but I bought RAVEL at McNally-Robinson in NYC, where I was doing a reading with Pia Z. Ehrhardt, who happens by coincidence to love the composer Ravel, after whom the novel is named. I could just "blog" like this all night long. For example, I could tell you that while I was rummaging around for the next thing to read, I almost settled on one of those books I got for next to nothing at a yard sale right before our move: THREE WAYS OF THOUGHT IN ANCIENT CHINA by the delightful old-school translator Arthur Waley, whose work was first introduced to me by my late friend Eugene Walter. If I did intend to "blog" all night, I would go on to say that I used a snippet of a Waley translation in the title novella of YOUR BODY IS CHANGING. And I might even go on to say that I opened tonight's Waley book to a passage, attributed to Chuang Tzu, which seems to fit in with the philosophy of the "blog" as expressed by Jasper Johns: Chuang Tzu and a pal of his are talking about the uselessness of a big old gnarled tree and Chuang Tzu is like, "What does not invite the axe/ No creature will harm/ What cannot be used/ No troubles will befall." And I was like, "Yeah." In our final literary matter, I received mere hours ago a surprise phone call from the great David Simon, co-creator of THE WIRE, to whom I could only babble in wonderment, but who was very nice to me, advising that I should keep doing what I do, "even if it ends in tragedy." He was, he reported, at the same bar, drinking the same thing (sangria) he had been drinking when he called me last year. I'm going to expect a call every year now, like a new holiday. I had the extra special pleasure of speaking with the great and equally kind Laura Lippman as well. I took the opportunity to congratulate her on being included in the "Tournament of Books" over there on The Morning News "web" site. An impressive short list on which to sit, though she was genuinely modest about it. These conclude our literary matters. Forever.

Fun With the Art

Everyone had a good time with the art tonight. My advice is get to know some art people. They'll treat you like a king! A teenager of our acquaintance came to see the art. He thought that Hubcap City's set-up was an exhibit. He can hardly be blamed, as that particular band employs an axe, a saw, a child-sized rocking chair, some brass bowls, some garbage can lids, and some other exciting objects as instruments. When they began to play, our teenage chum professed his delight, saying admiringly that Hubcap City sounded like "a witch's funeral." Le mot juste! Okay, the last thing I should say is that when I recommended The Awesome Glass Bricks of Mystery maybe I wasn't paying complete attention. For example, I don't think there's any glass involved. There ARE, however, more dead animals than I might have imagined. Somehow they escaped me on my first go-round. Dead birds, dead reptiles, and perhaps most memorably, some squashed and varnished rats on a bed of lima beans. I'm just saying. Hey, it's art, that's what art is. I'm not sure how I missed those rats before. Anyway, I had to tell you.

News of the World

Hey, guess who just signed up to teach at Emory University? This guy right here! That means he's a lucky man, because he'll be rubbing elbows with my wife Theresa Starkey, who's teaching a class there this Spring. It's a class she designed, called "The Woman on the Scaffold." All you punks hurry and sign up early! It's going to be a good one. Theresa's class is going to cover ax murders and Superbowl halftime shows and everything, I can say no more. As for Mr. Rushdie, I wonder if he has a "blog"! If so, we're sure to become the best of "buds."