McNeil Absolved of Blasphemy

1. We drove down to visit my parents. We got a rental car with some of that sweet, sweet satellite radio we have learned to enjoy. So I turn it on and here comes "American Pie," Dr. Theresa's least favorite song. When he sang "Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry," Dr. Theresa said, "Drive it in! You can't drive it fast enough for me!" Ouch! Later, I was thinking, hey, shouldn't a levee be dry anyway? Isn't it supposed to keep the water out? I cannot vouch for the accuracy of my idle musing. So, anyway, changing the selection before Dr. Theresa could explode, I noticed that one of the preset stations specialized in bluegrass. "Did you set this to bluegrass?" I asked with obvious astonishment. Dr. Theresa's response, which was not exactly an answer, was something like, "What's wrong with bluegrass?" The answer is nothing. There is nothing wrong with bluegrass. But when I put it on the bluegrass channel, Dr. Theresa made me change it again because bluegrass, according to her, "sounds like they did a bunch of coke." An exact quotation! 2. My dad goes to a particular Waffle House every Saturday morning with a collection of his cronies. Dad said that someone who lives next door to this Waffle House keeps chickens, and the chickens wander over and hang out in the parking lot. People feed them. It's all part of the experience. I was of course reminded of the Original Frosty Mug, and the chickens that used to peck around your feet while you tried to drink a milkshake. I wondered glumly and aloud whether the Original Frosty Mug could possibly still be open for business seeing as how the interstate has been improved - quite a few years ago now - to bypass the town. Dad said there was a new chicken at the Waffle House. I asked him how he knew it was new. He said it had "different feathers and a different attitude." He described it as a "quick-acting, small chicken who didn't know the procedure." Quote! 3. While visiting down there on the Gulf Coast, I received an email from McNeil, indicating that he had received his copy of the Apocryphal Gospels. He waited so long for it that I was sure he would be disappointed, but such did not appear to be the case, as McNeil remarked gleefully that Young Jesus should have been sent to military school. I do not consider this blasphemy, given the apocryphal nature of the text. 4. As we began our departure from the Gulf Coast by way of the Dauphin Island Bridge, I was given to remark, "Pelicans are cool. You know, they got their big old mouths." QUOTE! I thought I could put that line in an upcoming unpublished novel. Speaking of my unpublished novels, I'll have something else to say about them below. 5. I accidentally left my hat at my parents' house! It was a nice hat I bought at a shop in Pasadena recommended by Adam Muto. I wore it to the racetrack with Pen! If I ever want my hat back, I guess I'll have to visit my parents again. 6. While down there, I received texts from Megan on the evening she attended Wallace Shawn's new play. She has a good story about all that, but I shan't share it here as it is hers alone. But I will tell you this! When I got home, I was reading the New York Times... and look, I skipped the New York Times a couple of days while traveling. Was it a relief? I think it was! But now I'm back to reading the New York Times and I see a review of Wallace Shawn's new play. And here, I'll quote a little bit from the review, which observes of one character, "given his ontological understanding of the Big Bang, all action is preordained." So! I have a character in one of my unpublished novels who thinks the same thing! And I was like, oh no, people will think I am trying to rip off Wallace Shawn in the unlikely event my unpublished novel is ever published! So I sent Megan an excerpt of my novel, to get her opinion about whether or not people in this highly improbable future I have imagined will think I'm trying to rip off Wallace Shawn. Here, I'll share a small portion of the chapter I sent Megan: "Everything was made of molecules! Every single thing that ever happened was because of a couple of molecules banging into one another, causing the creation of the universe itself, in Gram Rattan’s understanding. Everything that happened after that was just more and more molecules banging around. Even the thoughts in Gram Rattan’s head! ... Molecules obeying immutable laws! That first molecule hitting that second molecule, well, that was the only thing that had ever really 'happened' in Gram Rattan’s opinion. The rest was gravy." So anyway, Megan told me that in the Wallace Shawn play, the moment must have passed so subtly she barely noticed it. I paraphrase. Anyhow, we can all breathe a sigh of relief! 7. You know who plays the "Big Bang Guy," as I call him, in Wallace Shawn's play? John Early! He was in an episode of SUMMER CAMP ISLAND I worked on! And Wallace Shawn was on ADVENTURE TIME! I'm not 100% sure, but I think maybe he was on SUMMER CAMP ISLAND as well. Anyway, based on a profile I read of him in the New York Times, he would love it if you went up and shouted that fact in his face, especially if he happened to be standing in a "temple of art." According to the New York Times, if there is one thing Wallace Shawn can't get enough of, it is standing around in a "temple of art." 8. You know I don't care to lug a big fat book with me when I travel. So I left Witold Gombrowicz at home. Upon my return, I opened it up and the first thing I read was "God, allow me to vomit up the human body!" Ha ha. You had to be there. That's old Gomby for you. Funny, I was already thinking of him as "old Gomby" when Megan texted, referring to him as "Gommy." I bet he would love it! As much as Wallace Shawn would love to be told by strangers on the street that when he was on ADVENTURE TIME, his character farted.

Utter Chaos

Few of us will ever forget where we were when I saw Dianne Wiest perform in the Samuel Beckett play HAPPY DAYS. But did you know that I was tempted to stand up at the end and shout “I loved you in COOKIE!”? As I recall, I was wearing my pink jacket, which, at the time, I thought might catch Dianne Wiest’s eye as I yelled incoherently about COOKIE during the standing ovation with spittle flying out of my mouth. Please be assured that in the end, I simply clapped like a normal person and kept my fat mouth shut. I’m just listing these details to avoid the inevitable... the inevitable being something about owls. Look. We all remember The Great Owl Drought of 2023, which lasted over three months. But other times, owls just come at a person too fast. There are too many owls! And yes, I get tired of telling you about every time I read a book with an owl in it, a habit that I began for reasons long forgotten or, more accurately, repressed. Before we go on (see how I’m still putting it off?) I should explain that the illustration for this “post,” of Peter Falk and Jerry Lewis walking on the beach, was taken from my TV in 2016, if I am supposed to trust the date stamped there by my computer. And indeed I can say with certainty that it was after April of that year, at which time our former TV blew up, because this is obviously a normal widescreen TV like everyone has now, whereas our old TV that blew up was one of those square boxes so heavy that even Ace Atkins had trouble lifting it when he came over to carry it out of our house, due to our begging and pleading. But the date stamped on this photo without my knowledge or consent... why does the government want to know the last time I watched COOKIE (2016 was not the last time I watched COOKIE)? And why am I talking about COOKIE? Because the Million Dollar Book Club is reading the memoir of Susan Seidelman, who directed that movie, along with DESPERATELY SEEKING SUSAN and at least two other really good ones of which I am too tired to type the titles. Anyhow! When Susan Seidelman is a kid, she and her siblings huddle up and watch late, late monster movies on TV, because they are “night owls.” As you will recall, the last night owls we mentioned were from Shakespeare, and he meant owls that literally fly around at night, which is... most owls? Right? You know what? Despite your many assumptions, I am not an owl expert. But Susan Seidelman is referring to the famous metaphorical night owls, people who thrive in the wee hours. The latter, I would say, is the most common kind of owl to run across in the Million Dollar Book Club. Previous examples of this kind of night owl (hardly a comprehensive list!) include Andy Warhol, Anna Magnini, and Yoko Ono. As I bring this interesting whatever it is to a close, I will say, look! If somebody else tells me a book has an owl in it, I usually don’t include it here. If I included every owl book that people told me about secondhand, featuring owls I didn’t witness in context with my own elderly mist-filled peepers, it would be utter chaos. Utter chaos! One time this guy Brian told me about the owl in a John Le Carré novel and it was a good (if upsetting) one, so I put it on the list. But don’t let that give you any ideas! However! McNeil read a book horribly called THE RAT ON FIRE, in which someone is as “drunk as a hoot owl,” which, fine. I’ve often wondered about where the phrase or concept comes from. I’ve seen it used in a work dating back to 1177! Which is quite a while ago. I don't think I was even born yet! But no one has ever explained to me why owls are supposed to be drunk (despite at least one owl who drank schnapps in real life). So I mentioned my puzzlement to McNeil, who immediately zapped me with an answer that struck me as satisfying. As you will recall, McNeil also explained to me why the wind blows in 2008. (I feel sure he once laid out the purpose of lightning for me as well, though I can find no textual evidence of when that happened. I do believe I wrote about it in my precious diary like the sweet little thing I am. I even recall that my mom found some tragic aesthetic or philosophical fault with McNeil's electrical reasoning. Sorry, McNeil!) Anyway, here’s what old McNeil had to say, and I quote: “Maybe because owls kind of bob their heads, and when they move on a branch they do it kind of awkwardly - one step to the right, then the other leg (or claw?) follows so it looks like their whole body is bobbing up and down. This is how they move in my imagination when I am asked by the authorities to describe the movements of owls.” PS! Embarrassingly, as I compulsively looked back over the "blog" for pointless "hyperlinks" that no one will ever "click" to add to this "post," I found one in which I had already been gently guided to a similar conclusion about drunken owls... over ten years ago! Like a jerk! Similar but not identical, I hasten to stipulate! McNeil's version holds more water... or booze! Ha ha! We're having fun now! We're finally having some fun, aren't we?

Per Se

So anyway you know I quit social media because I never stop yammering about it. Quitting social media means that a lot of times I don't know what anyone is doing, not that it's any of my beeswax. Like, I text Megan something about Kafka's diaries, and she texts back that she's behind on her reading because she and Bill and Jimmy are at the movie theater where Lee Harvey Oswald was arrested, watching BLOOD SIMPLE. (To be clear, they're watching BLOOD SIMPLE in the current day, it wasn't on the bill when Oswald was arrested, as it came out many years later.) And I am like, mentally, "!!!" Because I didn't see that coming, "that" being Megan and Bill and Jimmy watching BLOOD SIMPLE in the theater where Lee Harvey Oswald was arrested. Oddly, I was thinking about Lee Harvey Oswald yesterday, before getting that text, because I searched the "blog" to see if I had ever before mentioned Harvey comics, which, to my astonishment, I had not. I kept turning up allusions to Oswald as I searched. I've mentioned several Harvey comics characters here, but not, apparently, the Harvey comics brand per se, before yesterday. Isn't that something? And that reminded me of the time I went to the Dreamworks offices - they own the Harvey characters, or did at the time - and pitched my idea for a show, a show that both embraced and mocked the concept of the "gritty reboot." It had all your favorite Harvey characters, and all your least favorites, every Harvey character I could think of, even such misbegotten creatures as Baby Huey and Sad Sack! Except each and every one of them had been aged up into their 20s (of course, Sad Sack was a soldier and looked fairly haggard; I may have aged him down!) and they were all brooding and sulking and hot and tormented. The hook, which I still think is pretty good, was that Casper starts out the show as a regular guy, but midway through the first season, he's murdered! And that's how he becomes the friendly ghost. Who was I telling about this recently? It must have been Quinn. And I was saying that Richie Rich is in a coma, that's the big reveal at the end of Season 1. Everyone thinks he's running the town as a notorious recluse, but his evil butler Cadbury (not evil in the Harvey comics!) is keeping him incapacitated and... oh, who cares? But Quinn was like, "His spirit could be roaming around like in the movie JUST LIKE HEAVEN!" (I paraphrase. Also, that's a big spoiler for JUST LIKE HEAVEN, sorry. I really am sorry, because it works better if you don't know.) And I was like (responding to Quinn's idea), "No way! That doesn't correspond with my artistic vision!" But now that I've thought of it some more, it's fine. It's a good idea, Quinn! But I guess we wouldn't find out until Season 2. None of it matters, because the meeting was all "Ha ha ha! Wonderful idea! We'll talk soon! You're going to be a big man in this town! You're going to be running this dump one day! We love you! Let's get married! Hooray! Hooray!" and then... nothing. (Hey, that was only eight years ago, maybe they're still thinking about it.) Well, we're getting off the subject, which is that I googled it and found out that Bill and Jimmy and Megan were in Dallas for a festival put on by the Southwest Review. So when I "clicked" on the "web" site of that fine publication, I found an awesome interview that Mary Miller did with hero Lynda Barry! (You can read it, and you should, by "clicking" here.) I didn't know Mary Miller loved Lynda Barry so much! Or it's equally possible that I knew and forgot. But you know what? None of this is why I thought I was obliged to "blog" today. See, I accidentally read a New York Times op-ed that had one of those awful, cloying titles that usually warns me to skip it. But I read it for some reason, and it reminded me that THE GREAT GATSBY has a character in it to whom our narrator Nick refers at one point as "Owl Eyes." So THE GREAT GATSBY has an owl in it. I was like, "So what? My 'blog' readers will never know if I just fail to mention it." But my conscience overwhelmed me! And I knew that even though I read THE GREAT GATSBY many, many, many, many, many years ago, long before I cared (and eventually stopped caring) that every book has an owl in it, I was bound by honor to tell you that THE GREAT GATSBY has an owl in it. My life is a prison I've built for myself!

Hear Me Mispronounce Things

You know, one podcast wasn't good enough for the likes of me, so I was on yet another podcast. I'm the Alexander the Great of podcasts, I won't stop until there are none left to feel my wrath. Now, I won't listen to them myself. Look! It's not because of the kind and gifted Jen Johans, who hosted the latest one. It's just that the things pouring out of my mouth are so embarrassing. I don't remember what I said on the podcast, except for when I mispronounced the title of the movie VOLVER. You'll have fun hearing me do that! As much fun as I did mispronouncing it! (I don't know how to have fun.)

Fun

Checked in with McNeil, who says he is reading the Bible, which he described as "fun." Interesting (?) coincidence: when I recorded a podcast recently (it hasn't been released yet), ostensibly to promote the pilot that Pen and I made, I forgot to talk about the pilot at all, but I did manage to yammer incessantly about how much I enjoy the Bible, so everyone has that to look forward to.

The Rose/Wexler Ratio

I just finished reading JOSEPH AND HIS BROTHERS. What, you thought I wouldn't crow and bellow about it in a boastful manner? Just think back on how I strutted around after THE ANATOMY OF MELANCHOLY. And there are 1.5 Anatomies in 1 Joseph, or as we call it around here, "The Rose/Wexler Ratio." (The studious and scholarly may "click" here for more information about the origins of that useful term. You non-"clicking" bastards!) My first thought, of course, is that JOSEPH AND HIS BROTHERS ends exactly like WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING, an allusion that Kent Osborne will get if he ever stumbles across this "post." The rest of you will have to read all 1492 pages of JOSEPH and then watch the Sandra Bullock vehicle in question before enlightenment may occur. Next I'll say that it is almost impossible to believe that one person could be responsible for two such towering works of imagination as the novel under consideration and THE MAGIC MOUNTAIN. I'll put it mildly, as I am not exactly allowed, living in the unnamed town where I do, to express the secret thought rattling in my brain, but... let's just say Thomas Mann gives William Faulkner a run for his money. I've already said too much. All my blabbing about Thomas Mann during the course of this journey, as I guess I'm calling it - sorry! -, has had unintended consequences. For example, Tom Franklin dug out his old, presumably yellowed, copy of THE MAGIC MOUNTAIN, read a few pages, and said (I think this is an exact quotation), "Jack likes THIS?" I'm glad it happened! And I'll tell you why. It allows me to reiterate a couple of interesting points. 1. You can't just dig out your old paperback! You have to spring for the John E. Woods translations (assuming you are reading either book in English). 2. You have to give THE MAGIC MOUNTAIN 100 pages of grace. Just trust it for 100 pages! Do I have to remind you of what Keats said? I'd insist that you "click" here to find out, but who are we kidding? How I hate you! End of interesting points. For the moment! Bill Boyle told me that Annie Baker, a playwright we both admire, in turn admires Thomas Mann, particularly in the Woods translations, I believe. An inside source, drawing from the private content of an encounter at a party, revealed to me that a certain famous author (we'll call them "Famous Author") personally confided in my source that they (Famous Author) enjoyed every Thomas Mann novel EXCEPT for JOSEPH AND HIS BROTHERS!!! One may only assume that Famous Author did not heed my variation on point #2 above, which is that the latter novel requires anywhere from 200-400 warm-up pages before really kicking in. Let me also state that Famous Author famously and authorially ragged on the state of Mississippi (where I dwell) as containing not even one single inhabitant capable of reading a book. Before I left social media like a true hero of our age, I responded indignantly to Famous Author's assertion, having perused an old comic book starring the giant, dimwitted duck Baby Huey on the very day of Famous Author's proclamation. Though my brave social media statement regarding Baby Huey has been lost in the bog of dead and dying tweets, as they were formerly called, it gives me no small pleasure to know that as an illiterate Mississippian with drool rolling down my face, I was yet capable of gleaning more than Famous Author from the inestimable trove of JOSEPH AND HIS BROTHERS. In a final incident worthy of consideration, Mary Miller informed me with some excitement that Lee Durkee was reading and enjoying THE MAGIC MOUNTAIN. I was so thrilled to have someone with whom to talk about it! So I hopped on my phone like a happy teen and texted Lee at once, whereupon he issued, just as swiftly, a strongly worded denial. It turns out that Mary was confusing Lee with... me. I was the one who had told her about THE MAGIC MOUNTAIN. With this charming anecdote I lay the entire matter to rest, just like the Biblical patriach Jacob at the end of JOSEPH AND HIS BROTHERS. Spoiler alert!

I Couldn't Shut Up

As you know, I stopped "blogging" many years ago. For a while there, I would read a book with an owl in it and add it to my list, and that was the final vestige of my "blogging." But then I started getting inspired by phrases all the time. For example, I read the following in THE LUMINOUS NOVEL by Mario Levrero: "It's worthwhile reaching boredom, the rock bottom of boredom, because that's where the right impulses begin." I would like to take this opportunity to add that the narrator - who is indistinguishable from the author - reads a bunch of Little Lulu comic books at one point. You remember back when I was "blogging"! I couldn't shut up about Little Lulu, could I?

Seven Deadly Recommendations

The state of the recommendation shelf is... strong. Katelyn (not to be confused with Kaitlyn) took this pic for me just moments ago. You will note that David Simon (speaking at the Courthouse at 1:15 PM on Friday) and Seo Kim (speaking at the Overby Center at 10:30 AM on Thursday) are currently represented. Go to Square Books and get their books and MAKE DAVID AND SEO SIGN THEM WITH HEARTFELT PERSONAL MESSAGES. Did I ever tell you that David Simon's HOMICIDE: A YEAR ON THE KILLING STREETS has my favorite last sentence, but I think you have to read the whole 600 pages first for it to work, so I'm not even going to tell you and please don't peek or you'll ruin it for yourself? I mistakenly showed it to Kate (not to be confused with Katelyn) at the counter today without setting it up properly... by making her stand there and read the entire book first, I mean. (Then there's an epilogue and stuff, but I don't count that.) I was pretty happy to notice that SOMETHING HAPPENED by Joseph Heller had sold from my recommendation shelf. Now that's a book that has been unfairly forgotten. Has it been forgotten? I don't even know. Maybe I'M the one who forgot it! I probably read it last when I was in my 20s. Who do I think I am? Why don't I just shut my fat thought hole? I think during the brief time when Richard Ford lived in town the one conversation we had (that can't be right; it could be right) was about his approval of SOMETHING HAPPENED's placement on my recommendation shelf. I recall Richard Ford saying, "Well, Joe and I were..." and I don't know what they were doing because my brain snapped off. But I kind of think they were doing it in Paris, whatever it was they were doing. I was filled with rage and envy and maybe... sloth? I was like (silently), "OH I GET IT, YOU CALL JOSEPH HELLER 'JOE!'" What a petty, curdled soul I have. Hey, Katelyn has her first short story coming out soon! I'll keep you posted.

Grifo

Still reading THE MIDDLE AGES by Johannes Fried. I read about a guy who divided a kingdom "among his three sons Carloman, Pepin the Short, and Grifo." Don't they sound like a fun bunch? Like a comedy team, maybe. Grifo could be the lost Marx Brother. If you pronounce it "Griefo" he could be the sad one. That's what I was thinking last night. Today none of this jabber of mine seems too fascinating.

Beer Tastes Good

Just got back from the final meeting of Good Idea Club. "What is Good Idea Club?" you ask. And as always I answer, "Go to hell!" The inner workings of Good Idea Club are a secret. Just today McKay was asked to describe Good Idea Club on videotape and she said, "TURN THE CAMERA OFF!" She refused to go on. That's a true story! By McKay's reckoning I have probably already said too much! But I was walking down the street to Good Idea Club and the last purple light was in the sky and I ran into Jimmy. "Bats!" Jimmy said, pointing at the sky. And I looked up and saw three little bats with translucent wings chasing each other. "There's lots of bats at Faulkner's grave," Jimmy said mysteriously. He did not elaborate! When I got to Good Idea Club I wrote down what Jimmy had said on a torn-off part of a brown paper bag. We had champagne and pizza at the last-ever meeting of Good Idea Club. McKay used her grandmother's champagne glasses, which she had never used before. It was my favorite kind of champagne glass, the coupe. On many a New Year's Eve Dr. Theresa and I have had champagne out of a martini glass because it was the closest thing we had on hand to a coupe. But these were the real thing, and when we ran out of champagne we drank beer. Beer tastes good out of somebody's grandmother's champagne coupe. And that is all you will ever know about Good Idea Club and goodbye forever from Good Idea Club.

Canned Meatballs and Aqua Velva

I'm not sure Hogan is back home from tour yet, where her copy of the dual autobiography of Jim and Henny Backus (I think; so far it's all Jim Backus, though Henny will chime in about Jim's father's excellent golfing skills, for example) is waiting for her. I promised to go slow... and I'm keeping my promise... I'm only on Chapter Three... but I have a great desire to spill the beans about it, as it's all about Jim Backus's friendship with Victor Mature (pictured), which started when they were in military school together (I think that's where Jim won the big football game). DON'T READ THIS, HOGAN. As teenagers they would throw parties in their dorm room, serving drinks made by mixing lemon soda and Aqua Velva. KIDS! DON'T DRINK AFTERSHAVE LOTION. IT WILL LITERALLY KILL YOU. And anyway they don't put the same stuff in it as they did when Jim Backus and Victor Mature were teenagers so what's the point. When he grew up Victor Mature had his own line of canned meatballs. I confirmed this with an old newspaper article - "click" here to read it - which states that Victor Mature "makes love to movie queens for money and peddles television sets and meatballs for fun." As Jen Vafidis points out on twitter we also learn - information not in the book, so far - that "!! his dog is named Genius II because the first Genius is him !!" which strikes me as playful self-deprecation.

RBG

Tonight's episode has aired (except in the Pacific Time Zone, but I don't think there are any spoilers here), so I thought someone might stumble across this "blog" while struggling to answer the vexing question, "Who is this jerk and how did he get to do a voice on ADVENTURE TIME?" I am that jerk and I will tell you. I started writing for the show way back in October of 2012. My old friend Kent Osborne, who is the "Head of Story" for ADVENTURE TIME, called out of the blue and asked if I wanted to give it a try. My first instinct was to say no! I didn't know how to write for cartoons. I knew Kent worked for the show, and I had watched and enjoyed a few episodes with my nephews, because it was their favorite show, but I didn't feel qualified. Kent said not to worry, it was just a two-week freelance job. So I said okay. I have hardly ever turned down a quick freelance job! I didn't know that those two weeks were secretly a kind of audition to see how I got along in the writers' room. I got along fine because everyone was nice as pie. And so the assignment turned into steady employment, for which I am grateful. It's the best job ever! I live in Mississippi. Three times a week I meet with my friends in Burbank by video. We just make up stories and talk about feelings and that's about it. Well, there is also a good deal of typing. One of the coolest parts of the experience for me was when my dad helped out with the "We Fixed a Truck" episode. For some reason I recall with special fondness and clarity a chat that Adam Muto and I had about Klarion the Witchboy and his mystical cat Teekl, two characters from Jack Kirby's comic book THE DEMON, not that it yielded anything for use in the show, nor was it meant to. But as often as not the germs of episodes are contained in such random digressions. Very occasionally I will travel to Los Angeles and go to the office in person. (And once Pen and Kent came to Mississippi.) I flew out to read my "Root Beer Guy" lines for tonight's episode. ADVENTURE TIME is recorded mostly like an old-time radio play, with a bunch of people standing in a booth together, stationed at separate microphones. But how did I get the part? Kent suggested I do it, that's all. I didn't think it would really happen. The name "Stephen King" was bounced around as another possibility, but he was never approached. I think Adam asked me during a conference, "Do you think you could do it?" And I answered with joking bravado, "I AM ROOT BEER GUY," paraphrasing Flaubert on the subject of Madame Bovary, ha ha ha, oh boy, what fun we're having now. I should emphasize that the idea for the Root Beer Guy story was all Pen's - that's Pendleton Ward, creator of the show - and brilliantly fleshed-out and brought to life by storyboard artist/writer Graham Falk. Incidentally, I met Owen King, one of the writer sons of Stephen King, at City Grocery Bar during the annual book conference we have in my town. You should come! Kent came to the book conference once! I almost said to Owen King, "I beat out your dad for a role!" But instead I didn't say anything. ("Click" here for another example of something I didn't say.) In the first place it wasn't strictly true, and in the second place it is usually best to keep your fat mouth shut. The only reason I even thought of it was because of how much Mr. King's voice resembled his father's. Now, how did Anne Heche end up playing "Cherry Cream Soda"? After we finished the outline I blurted (fairly inaccurately) that Cherry Cream Soda's part was something like Anne Heche's in DONNIE BRASCO. And Kent cried out, "Let's get Anne Heche!" Because he's kind of obsessed with her, I guess you'd say, though it is a harsh word with which to describe Kent's gentle fascination. And then they got her! And she did it. She was amazing! The genuine emotion with which she imbued her lines gave me no choice but to actually try. So I tried. And now you know as much as I do about life. How sad.

Well

First it was Conrad Veidt, now it's CITY STREETS. James Wolcott is "blogging" about all the same things I am - well, two things. Anyway, I get to "post" this picture again. Oh, why don't I just hop in a time machine and go back to the early 1930s and shut my fat yapper and quit bothering you nice people all the time? I keep conveniently forgetting about the Great Depression. For starters.

The Man Who Fell Off the "Internet"

When I was a little kid, there used to be something called "The Big Show" on TV when I got home from school. Gee, isn't this so fascinating already? Don't worry, it gets duller! "The Big Show" was an old movie, hosted by a man named Mac or Max (turns out his name was Max Goodman, more on that in a postscript below - are you pinching yourself?). He was the biggest square you have ever seen, a guy in a dark suit and glasses, standing in front of a marquee. Once he made a mildly off-color remark about a Deanna Durbin movie. No offense to Max Goodman or his descendants, but he really did! That wasn't his usual style. I remember the remark exactly, though I won't trouble you with it. There is probably some important conversation I had with one of my grandparents which has been pushed out of my brain by Max Goodman's Deanna Durbin joke. I was so young I didn't even understand it at the time, but I could tell it was wrong! Perhaps Max Goodman cringed at himself or something, or maybe he even apologized, and that's how I knew I had witnessed something untoward. Wow! I'm really off-track here. This isn't what I meant to talk about at all. Good thing this is a "blog" and nobody cares! I don't even care if you stop reading right now. In fact, I recommend it. What I meant to tell you is that WHO'S MINDING THE MINT? came on TCM last night. I haven't watched it yet. I have it on the dvr. When I was a child, there were no dvrs! Gee this is interesting! So I had to wait for WHO'S MINDING THE MINT? to come on "The Big Show," which it did over and over and over, to my great pleasure, instilling in me my first precocious desires to pull off a big heist - an ambition which has to this date gone unfulfilled. It's probably terrible. I will watch it and let you know. Yet until I came across CAPRICORN ONE, I considered WHO'S MINDING THE MINT? the pinnacle of humankind's artistic longings. "The Big Show" seemed to have a limited number of available films. One was about a giant tarantula. I think they showed practically everything by Abbott and Costello, including a dispiriting little bagatelle titled ABBOTT AND COSTELLO MEET THE KEYSTONE KOPS. Even as a child I could tell that no one's heart had been in that one. Everybody looked worn-out and sad. On Fridays it was Tarzan, or so I recall. Are you asleep yet? Because listen! By the time I got to high school, "The Big Show" had a rival on channel 10. It was called "Movies 10." There was no square host! There was no host at all! Just an animated opening, kind of groovy, in which a movie camera assembled itself out of some geometric shapes over a red background, I think, and suddenly the cameraman was pointing the camera at YOU, the viewer! Freaky! Then straight to the movie, which was usually groovier fare than ABBOTT AND COSTELLO MEET THE KEYSTONE KOPS, such as POPI starring Alan Arkin or THE HOT ROCK or CALIFORNIA SPLIT or THE PINK PANTHER. So is it possible that I am misremembering such a vital event of my childhood, and that I first saw 1967's WHO'S MINDING THE MINT? on "Movies 10," not on "The Big Show"? I refuse to believe it! Now for the promised postscript: how did I find Max Goodman's name? It wasn't easy! There is only ONE mention of "The Big Show" hosted by Max Goodman on the whole "internet" as far as I can tell. It is buried deep inside the "web" site of some guy who summarized every episode of a local AM talk-radio show in Mobile, Alabama. Unless you are some weirdo stickler for corroboration, I strongly advise that you do not "click" here. Let me sum it up for you. Here is some of the talk-radio show, as presented by the "blogger" in question: "Third half-hour begins with audio of Reagan during his re-election campaign at his political party's national convention. Caller George has childhood memories of a ferryboat service long ago, including a memory of being told to 'turn around' after his mother dresses up in a bathing suit, which bothered George throughout the years." Much later, the relevant portion: "Former WKRG personality Max Goodman spoke with John Nodar this morning about his career at the station from 1963 to 1985. Goodman held positions such as morning weather forecaster, newscaster, announcer, and host of TV5 programs such as the movie showcase 'The Big Show'(aired daily from 3:30 PM-5:00 PM) and 'Channel 5 Bingo', in which viewers with bingo cards from Greer's Food Market can play along from home. One of Max's most cherished memories is when general manger C.P. Persons asked if he would go to Washington, D.C. for an interview with Attorney General Katzenbach." And that's it for "The Big Show" on the "internet." Not even a photo of Max Goodman that I can find. So we will have to settle for Deanna Durbin. The "blogger" in question stopped "blogging" in 2009 because he got depressed about the tone of talk radio.

Book Club Newsletter

Don't you just love novelty songs about H. V. Kaltenborn? What? You don't? What kind of a creep are you? Because according to this book I am reading for the Sturm Und Stang Book Club, everyone was just crazy for Joe E. Lewis's hilarious novelty songs about H. V. Kaltenborn, of which several long, long stanzas are lovingly transcribed by the author in all their topical hilarity. H. V. Kaltenborn! Yeah, I don't know who he is either. We're not supposed to discuss the book until we've all hit the middle. So I should keep my fat mush clamped. But come on! H. V. Kaltenborn! Pictured, H. V. Kaltenborn, the subject of so many delightful novelty songs. Just look at this guy! He's got "belly laughs" written all over him! PS: I have no regrets!

Nobody Cares!

Look, I have already told Kent this but now it's time for the rest of you to know it, so get ready. LOST is going to turn out to be all about Zoroastrianism or Manichaeism or some other word I'm pretty sure I'm not spelling correctly. You just wait and see! I'll meet you back here when LOST is over and then I'll be all, "I told you so." And you'll be like, "Shut up." So I guess LOST is on at the same time as THE GOOD WIFE now, which leaves me in a pickle. You know who could get those people off that island? The Good Wife, that's who!

Wrong Again, Pendarvis!

You always learn something when you tune into TCM - and have a fun time watching old movies to boot! Last night I learned what an idiot I am, for example. In an Oxford American article about the movie BABY DOLL, I once wrote of Carroll Baker's performance, "Baker seems to have come into this title role from nowhere, and to have sunk back there (with an Academy Award nomination) when it was done." Then I went on to say that it didn't matter, because nothing she ever did could possibly match up to her "Baby Doll." Oh, I love to make pronouncements! Wheeeeee! But last night I saw Ms. Baker on TCM, giving a subtle, rich, mature, deeply satisfying performance in the film BRIDGE TO THE SUN. The role is better than her role in BABY DOLL. She is never once required to suck her thumb, for example! And I will go ahead and say it: the movie itself is better than BABY DOLL (my problems with which are hinted at throughout the aforementioned article). Carroll Baker is magnificent in BRIDGE TO THE SUN, so I just want to remind everyone it's better if we (people, that is) never say or write anything and just kind of stay quiet and shut up and mind our own business.

Being Squat and Horrible, In Fact

Here is something else from TAKE A GIRL LIKE YOU by Kingsley Amis. One of the characters, a schoolteacher named Patrick Standish, spies an annoying person named Charlton - his nemesis, sort of - he has been striving to avoid. And now I give you Kingsley Amis: "Then he caught sight of Charlton standing quite near, being squat and horrible, in fact, in the patchy shade of one of the laburnums that bordered the open side of the court." There are many good things about this sentence! For example, it represents the first time that Charlton has been physically described, so when we hit that subjective pothole in the middle, it gives us a rhetorical or syntactical thrill or something. Forgive me, I am not proficient at explaining things or familiarizing myself with the meanings of the words I use. But one thing is for sure: the great word choice in that sentence is "being." Think about it and you will know I am right! To the untrained eye, "laburnums" or "patchy" would appear to be the star word of the sentence. Or "squat," perhaps. "Being" is usually a dull and unnecessary word, like "was." But in the sentence under review, "being" gets its turn in the spotlight, thanks to the utter existential disapproval it manages to imply. In a structural sense, "being" earns its place of honor because it represents the moment at which the third-person narrator revises himself (itself? Is a third-person narrator a "he" just because the author is a "he"? And of course we are all acquainted with that muzzy area in which the third-person narrator begins to collude with a particular character, in this case a male one) right there in front of us, realizing and/or deciding that "standing" is not an absolute and consuming enough word to describe the vast unpleasantness of Charlton's posture in the world. Here I go pretending to explain things again! And I had a lot stored up to say about "in fact." I should just shut my fat yap. What a loser.

Almost an Anagram

A scene in which Ravel sips Pernod. A scene in which Ravel transcribes the songs of birds. These are two scenes in the novel RAVEL. Why am I telling you this? Because I have told you similar things before. It's called "automatic pilot." The "blog" has become a kind of "trap." These "facts" have no "substance." There's nothing in them for you. Maybe it has something to do with what Jasper Johns said about his paintings that time. Or maybe I should shut my fat gob, which is almost an anagram for "blog." One is also asked, at times, to shut - rather than one's "gob" - one's "trap," which is what the "blog" has become (see above). The least I can do is give you another painting by Jasper Johns to look at. Why am I such a "prat" (which is an anagram for "trap")? (To make it all up to you, here is an interview with Jasper Johns in the Brooklyn Rail, a publication that was kind enough to review one of my books. The first thing in the interview is the fact that Jasper Johns has seen that latest of "blog" concerns, a UFO. I found the interview by accident when I was looking for a painting to include here. See how "blogging" works? I just don't know anymore. You know who's really good at anagrams? Jon Host. I have a long story about that.)

McNeil's Gold Medal International Emergency Exit Theatre

Earlier today, McNeil implied by phone that he was retiring from the MGMIEET game. He insisted that he could never top his discovery of Frank Converse reciting the lyrics to "She's Leaving Home." And he hasn't but he's in there gamely trying, which is what we need more of in this day and age of lollygagging about. On an unrelated note, I should mention that Harold Pinter is alive -thriving, even - and I'm an idiot. I kept interrupting Dr. "M.'s" point to inform her she was thinking of Tom Stoppard (who is also alive, of course, I was right about that).