Chicken of the Sea

I'm telling you for the last time! Just because I keep a list of books I read with owls in them doesn't mean I have to tell you every time an owl appears in a single volume. One owl per volume. My obligation begins and ends there! BUT! I came across more owls in THE ODYSSEY and they really gave me something to think about. See, these owls are on Calypso's island and... well, here, I'll let Emily Wilson's translation do the talking: "Birds nested there but hunted out at sea: the owls, the hawks, the gulls with gaping beaks." So, the way I'm reading that, the owls are out there with everybody else, grabbing up a healthy diet of crabs and fish or what-have-you. Now, if you're anything like me (you're not), you're thinking about the time I just couldn't picture owls hanging out on a beach. Such an image was beyond my mental capacity, save for a fancifully scornful "owls on surfboards" motif. Looks like I'm wrong again! OR AM I? I am. Although I often say I don't care about looking things up, or anything else, anymore, and it is 100% true, I did get out of bed and consult my Robert Fagles translation of THE ODYSSEY, which I had sworn I was too tired to ever do again. I guess I have a few tricks left in me after all. Just like wily old Odysseus himself! Anyhoo! Here's Fagles: "birds roosted, folding their long wings, owls and hawks and the spread-beaked ravens of the sea, black skimmers who make their living off the waves." So, if I'm reading that correctly, which I'm certainly not, Fagles has only the "ravens of the sea" (sounds like a worse version of Chicken of the Sea brand tuna, ha ha! What if you ate some canned tuna and said, "Wow, this tastes just like raven"? Oh my goodness, what a world that would be, we're having some fun now), what Emily Wilson more sensibly calls "gulls," eating out of the water, not the owls and hawks. Which of them translated more accurately? Well, I'll never know. I don't know ancient Greek and something tells me I'm not going to start learning it now. But! According to things I glanced at on my phone, there are several kinds of owls known under the umbrella term "fish owls" or "fishing owls," and you'll never guess what they eat! That's right, fish. It's all part of the theme of the "blog," which is that I'm wrong about everything. For example, when I sit around thinking ha ha, owls on the beach, what a gas, that's rich, ho ho ho, what a time to be alive.

Rich in Ideas

Okay, in THAT AWFUL MESS ON THE VIA MERULANA, Gadda also mentions a "decoy owl on a stick," by which he means, I think, the same object to which both Charles Portis and Sam Shepard referred as a "dummy owl" ("click" here and here for details) and Larry Brown called an "owl decoy" (subtle difference). I don't know exactly what Stephen King called it because I didn't directly quote him regarding that aspect when the occasion arose. Most of all, I feel sure you will want to know that while King, Portis, Shepard, and Brown are talking about literal, physical decoy owls, Gadda's decoy owl is figurative, a way of describing the actions of a certain kind of person. You must take all of these factors into consideration when contemplating owls and plastic owls! When you think about it, Gadda has used owls three different ways. That's what we like to call real old-fashioned owl versatility. But the main thing I am noticing is the sandwiches. As you may recall, Dr. Theresa and I get distracted lately - haunted, really - by the sandwiches presented to us in arts and entertainment. I am going to describe some of Gadda's sandwiches from memory now, because the book is downstairs and I'm extremely lazy. One sandwich has three slabs of prime rib on it as big as terra cotta roof tiles, on a roll of bread "like a carpet slipper" might be a quotation. Well, it's close, if not. Another sandwich has alternating slices of mortadella and roast beef. As I lay in bed reading, I offered the sandwich descriptions aloud to Dr. Theresa. I thought about the sandwiches a lot! I kept picturing a roast beef sandwich I could have sworn we used to get at Alon's Bakery in Atlanta, but I looked it up... that's just how sad I am! And I am not sure it's the same sandwich. Well! I had a doctor's appointment today, so I brought along QUINCAS BORBA, which I have taken out of regular rotation - just temporarily! - because of pressing Million Dollar Book Club business. Let me first say that I was correct! De Assis has attempted no further reflections from a dog's point of view. But! As I sat there in the waiting room, it so happened that the author started a couple of roses talking to each other. Talking roses! But he did it in a way that lets us know he's just pulling our legs... whereas William Maxwell's dog stuff groaned (howled?) with a pathos that would have made Charlie Chaplin himself die of embarrassment. Besides, de Assis once again provides a wonderful justification: "a stretch of wall, a bench, a carpet, an umbrella, are all rich in ideas and feelings, when, that is, we are, too, and this exchange of ideas between men and things is one of the most interesting phenomena on earth."

Guff

I've given the New York Times a lot of guff over the years for their stubbon refusal to understand anything at all about the sitcom GREEN ACRES. It is only fitting, then, that I acknowledge the review they printed today of the TV show EVIL, in which the reviewer makes what I have determined after careful examination to be a neutral-to-positive allusion to GREEN ACRES. But! In the selfsame review, Roger Miller's uniquely sophisticated body of work is labeled with the regrettable and belittling umbrella term "novelty songs." Oh, Gray Lady! Why must you give with one hand and take with the other?

Friends Are Scary

I saw more FRIENDS reruns last night. WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME? This time I noticed that they are holding umbrellas in the opening credits and advancing toward the viewer with unnerving herky-jerkiness, the dead look in their eyes of soulless killers.

Hyperlinks From a Marriage

As of today, Dr. Theresa and I have been married for 19 years. WHAT! For the first 11 years I didn't even have a "blog." WHAT! So anything that happened during that period is none of your beeswax. But everything after that is up for grabs! So here are some highlights: We saw Morgan Freeman get out of his car. We watched SMOKEY AND THE BANDIT and HOOPER. We investigated wild animal noises. We celebrated Dr. Theresa becoming Dr. Theresa. We went to the optometrist together. We were nearly struck by lightning! We watched a raccoon and a possum hang out on our back porch. We hung out with Kent Osborne a lot. We kept track for some months of a neighboring groundhog. We walked through a weird abandoned tunnel. We recalled a schoolyard legend of Grizzly Adams's beard catching on fire. We went to Elvis's house. We went to hear a Frank Sinatra impersonator. We saw a bunch of dragonflies at Robert Johnson's grave. We tried to get a kitten off the roof. We drank champagne out of martini glasses.

Dr. Theresa solved a mystery in my office. Dr. Theresa bought me pants. Dr. Theresa scared me several times with her Helena Bonham Carter impersonation. Dr. Theresa brought a goldfish back to life. Dr. Theresa saved my favorite fork when it was stuck in the drain. Dr. Theresa noted my strange susceptibility to Lady Grey tea. Dr. Theresa proved the existence of the giant turtle movie that haunted her. Dr. Theresa has uttered many memorable phrases. Dr. Theresa warned me not to be torn apart by coyotes in Beverly Hills. Dr. Theresa made coffee and eggs and tortillas at 3 in the morning. Dr. Theresa bought a $5 umbrella. Dr. Theresa made a new notch in my belt for me. Dr. Theresa ordered extra tartar sauce. Dr. Theresa danced with balls of fire. We used to go get a whole karaoke room to ourselves with our friend Caroline. We took a pregnant woman to see PINK FLAMINGOS. We saw a strange woman pushing a face-down doll in a baby stroller. We supported literacy. We had loud upstairs neighbors. We attended a rock and roll show in New York City. We roamed around the restaurants and bars of New Orleans with John Currence and John T. Edge. We ate in a terrible restaurant in Nashville. We had our picture hung up in a restaurant. We had some low-key New Year's Eves. We accidentally took a tap-dancing lesson together. We saw three huge woodpeckers. We bought a drink for D-Day from ANIMAL HOUSE. We went to a midnight screening of BLAZING SADDLES right after Princess Diana died. We stayed in a Ramada Inn that literally had an old graveyard in its parking lot. We domesticated at least one feral cat. We consumed many iceberg lettuce wedges. We watched countless horror movies. Countless! And many episodes of Lawrence Welk. We forced young people to dance. We drove to Booger Bottom on a whim. We observed a robin's nest. We discussed our paper clip preferences. We stood in a roaring wind.

Maybe Kangaroos

Reading that biography of John Wayne, I was particularly mesmerized by the allusions to a movie produced by John Wayne, a brainchild of his boozy sidekick Jimmy Grant, a circus movie starring Mickey Spillane as himself - RING OF FEAR! It says something about me that I also watched ISLAND IN THE SKY, a very interesting John Wayne movie that starts out interesting and just gets more and more interesting as it goes along, a really fine movie, and yet I have no desire to "blog" about it. I'd much rather "blog" about RING OF FEAR, which is, as I just informed you, a circus movie starring Mickey Spillane. As himself! Many spoilers follow, ha ha. RING OF FEAR begins with thudding timpani and roaring lions. The theme song goes, "Here comes the circus/ Marching down the street/ Hear that thrilling beat/ The band... the band... the band is playing, Yay!" and that's the whole song. (See also.) The narrator lists all the animals in the circus, ending his litany with "maybe kangaroos." Maybe! Sounds ominous. Then we cut to a big, scary sign: STATE MENTAL INSTITUTION, and a guy saying, "I tell you I'm not crazy, gentlemen." We're less than 5 minutes in! Oh boy! Then the guy says something I didn't quite catch about "building a fence around the universe." He's in trouble for talking to a picture of a "circus girl." Then he escapes! I thought they were setting him up to be sympathetic but then he tossed a random guy under an oncoming train, so I guess not. He meets up with his pal, a guy named Twitchy. I thought I had that wrong until a surly clown said, "Twitchy must be hitting the bottle again," thereby confirming the name Twitchy. Twenty-five minutes in, here's Mickey Spillane for some reason. Somebody says, "Say, ain't you Mickey Spillane?" Spillane mumbles, "Yeah, that's right." Poor Mickey! As an actor he doesn't even seem convinced of his own name. He does walk around with copies of his new paperback in his jacket pocket and hand them out to strangers. Lots of circus acts in this movie. I hate to see them taunting the tigers with the whip and the chair, though, so I fast forwarded through that stuff, I must admit (though to come clean I enjoyed it - very guiltily - when some elephants danced to "Turkey in the Straw" - God have mercy!). Twitchy is a drunk clown, like so many sad clowns before him, but I wasn't sure I could safely categorize him as a sad clown until I saw that he was being blackmailed for murder. That would make anybody sad! Now we meet, for a few sparkling moments, an acrobat named Tiny. Boy, I liked her. Her "bum" of a husband works part-time as a department-store Santa. Golly, I would have watched a whole movie about them! But that's all we get of Tiny. Mickey Spillane calls somebody "a windy character" and Pat O'Brien responds, "Yeah, he's windy and he's a character." I am not sure what that exchange of dialogue got us! The sword swallower wants peppermint polish for her swords because her swords taste so terrible. (Hey, I've got eight pages of notes here.) She has a weird way of introducing herself: "Hello, Mr. Spillane, are you married?" Mickey says, "It slips my mind at the moment," a pretty good Mickey Spillane line, but the incongruous set-up is unforgivable. I have here in my notes that Mickey Spillane chews gum and squints. Half an hour in or so I find out that the crazy madman is named "Dublin O'Malley." He's Irish, by the way. Meanwhile, back at the circus! A clown comes out holding an umbrella. Cut to the crowd laughing hysterically. Cut back to the clown holding his umbrella. A clown holding an umbrella really seems to get to everybody. (See also.) By an hour in, Dublin O'Malley seems kind of like an interesting, complicated psychopath, or am I going soft? (Also about an hour in, a kangaroo actually appears - a kangaroo with, forgive me for saying so, surprisingly prominent testicles.) I did enjoy watching Mickey Spillane eat an ice cream cone. It seemed authentic. Was he getting more comfortable onscreen? Or was I getting more full of rye? Around this time, for example, I started thinking of the actor who played Dublin O'Malley as a poor man's Orson Welles, which is funny, because Dr. Theresa, who was in the next room and not even paying attention, later told me that she thought he sounded just like Orson Welles in LADY FROM SHANGHAI. Suddenly Mickey Spillane is wearing a Hawaiian shirt. Later, he will put on a tight sweater, too, before suddenly reverting to the usual baggy jacket, loose tie, and fedora. Turns out Twitchy used to be an aerialist, which reminded me of something that Bill Taft once said to me in a circus performers' graveyard. Dublin has a long, intricate monologue describing death by cyanide to Twitchy and yes, this scene clinches it, Twitchy is a super sad clown. Dublin O'Malley drowns that clown! Reaction shots of disapproving circus animals! Pat O'Brien gives a deadpan read of the immortal line, "Valerie, I'm sorry. We just got news that Dublin is a kill-happy maniac." Dublin is eaten by a tiger, cutting immediately to a song about the circus being "a magic wonderland" of "angels and clowns." THE END

Sexy Vacation

Ha ha, the Banana Guards sure were dumb on last night's ADVENTURE TIME episode! During the meeting when we were talking about that outline I believe I said something like, "Why aren't these guys more on the ball thanks to Root Beer Guy?" (As you may recall, he was promoted to the position of their captain, and maybe because I did his voice I was especially upset that he wasn't apparently too good at his job.) Someone - was it me? - suggested that Root Beer Guy was on a "sexy vacation with his wife"... a line that actually made it into the episode for a little while before being cut somewhere along the way. But it remains in one form: this delightful promotional poster that storyboard artist Seo Kim did for the episode. Look, she even has his little cell phone vibrating with emergency on the table next to him, and he's (I choose to believe) drinking from a coconut with a straw - something I once did in Los Angeles for an ADVENTURE TIME meeting, though that's just a happy coincidence.

Writers

Much celebration last night because Jimmy (above, with yours truly) and McKay both "defended" themselves and earned their degrees so now "The Man" says they are "writers." And in this one case, "The Man" is really onto something! Because these two are the real deal, all right. And though I haven't taught in a good long while now, I couldn't be prouder. I felt pretty happy and proud seeing Michael Bible back in town for a visit last night, too, and went around the bar taking a lot of false credit for his achievements as well. These people are writers, man! They can't help it! I didn't have a thing to do with that. I just stood there yelling "Go for it!" Also out celebrating: Megan Abbott, who snapped the photo above. She told me that she read in that Shirley Temple autobiography there used to be Shirley Temple martini pitchers with Shirley's cherubic little face on them! And they came with a helpful slogan for mixing: "Gin to the chin/ Vermouth to the tooth." Speaking of which, you will never believe this, but I have not had even one single little drink in this photo (below) with McKay, though I look as if I just lurched dipsomaniacally into an alley and got rolled for my cash by the Easter bunny, and am still suffering from shock and, possibly, a concussion. McKay, it hardly needs noting, looks like her awesome self. (Regretful footnote: I misheard. It was a Shirley Temple milk pitcher, not a martini pitcher, though some devilish "wags" used it in that perverted way and came up with the handy gin/vermouth mnemonic.)

Train Smash

In this George Plimpton book about boxing, I read that Lord Byron's mother died "of a fit of rage brought on by reading an upholsterer's bill." I am sure I did not know that. Then I read of the "Mad Marquis" who wrote to a railway company, "SIRS: I am anxious to witness a train smash." He later tried to crash two locomotives into each other on his estate. "Champagne was served," notes Plimpton. It didn't go so well. I am learning many facts from this book about boxing. If we check the index of this book about boxing we see, in just one random column, Percy Bysshe Shelley, Toots Shor, Sitting Bull, Edith Sitwell, and Jacques Tati (pictured). Boxing! Hey, my dad likes to quote an Edith Sitwell poem. He likes to say, "Jane, Jane/ Tall as a crane/ The morning light creaks down again."

Solemn Velvet Policy

As you know, it is the "blog's" policy to alert you at once when we run across someone wearing a velvet suit, or a mention of someone wearing a velvet suit. Get over to Maud Newton's "blog" at once, then, and read about Betrand Russell as "a solemn little boy in a blue velvet suit with an equally solemn governess." Recall also the young Charles Schulz, similarly solemn, sitting "on the grass of a St. Paul park, in velvet suit and Eton collar, earnestly posed under a lacquered Oriental parasol."

The Promised Disappointing Photo of George Hamilton

This is the promised disappointing photo of George Hamilton, which doesn't live up to the exciting way I described it. But he IS squinting in a somewhat angry way as he sips his iced tea... isn't he?

The Troublemakers

I am also calling this photo by Kent Osborne "The Troublemakers." Joey doesn't look like much of a troublemaker here, but Dr. Theresa (whom you may recall from her previous photo "The Troublemakers") is figuring out how to use her $5 umbrella as a weapon. If you look carefully, you can see ESPN magazine's Wright Thompson over her shoulder, through the window, looking scared to come outside, because of... "The Troublemakers."

Brick Sullivan Fan Club

McNeil has been prowling the less traveled corners of the imdb again, and now he wants to start a Brick Sullivan fan club. Who's in? Here is a relatively small sample of Brick Sullivan's acting work as catalogued by imdb: "Police Car Driver (uncredited), Cop (uncredited), Bartender, Policeman (1 episode), Policeman (uncredited), Policeman (uncredited), Cop (uncredited), Police Officer Grant (uncredited), Arresting Policeman at Derrick Cafe (uncredited), Bartender (uncredited), Uniformed Officer, Policeman, Police Stenographer (uncredited), Croupier (uncredited), Policeman in Conga Line (uncredited), Harry the Cop (uncredited), Bartender (uncredited), Policeman (uncredited), Cop (uncredited), Cop (uncredited), Deputy Sheriff Kelly (uncredited), Policeman (uncredited), Policeman (uncredited), Policeman (uncredited), Croupier [again! -ed.] (uncredited), Bartender (uncredited), Joe the Bartender (uncredited), Saloon Waiter (uncredited), Planetarium Guard (uncredited), Policeman in "Singin' in the Rain" Number (uncredited), Policeman (uncredited), Cop Outside Fight Arena (uncredited), Cop in Church (uncredited), Cop (uncredited), Police Chauffeur (uncredited), Railroad Detective (uncredited), Man on Street in Pre-Title Credits Sequence (uncredited), Detective (uncredited), Policeman (uncredited), Policeman (uncredited), Policeman (uncredited), Policeman (uncredited), Policeman (uncredited), Customs Officer (uncredited), Policeman on Street (uncredited), Man Being Deputized (uncredited), Cop (uncredited), Policeman at Station House (uncredited), Man with Pail of Beer (uncredited), Police Detective (uncredited), Policeman (uncredited), Cop at Gas Station (uncredited), Policeman (uncredited), Detective (uncredited), Policeman (uncredited), Detective (uncredited), Policeman (uncredited), Detective Lieutenant (uncredited), Policeman (uncredited), Policeman (uncredited), Policeman on Street (uncredited), Policeman #11 (uncredited), Policeman Departing HQ (uncredited), Cop (uncredited), Umpire (uncredited), Iceman (uncredited), Policeman (uncredited), Murdered Policeman (uncredited), Police Detective (uncredited), Umpire (uncredited), Cop (uncredited), Officer Calladay (uncredited), Cop (uncredited), Policeman (uncredited), Detective (uncredited), Policeman (uncredited), Cop (uncredited), Policeman Leaving Stationhouse (uncredited), Detective Lt. Franklin, Officer (uncredited), Deputy Marshal (uncredited), Policeman at Cemetery (uncredited), Coast Guard Policeman (uncredited), Policeman (uncredited), Ranger (uncredited), New York Cop (uncredited), Policeman (uncredited), Cop in Nightclub (uncredited), Cop eating Ice Cream (uncredited), Policeman (uncredited), Police Driver (uncredited), Flintwood Policeman (uncredited), Policeman Jasper (uncredited), Cop at Stage Door (uncredited), Darryl - Police Officer (uncredited), Policeman at Boat Dock (uncredited), Policeman at Cleveland Air Field (uncredited), Policeman in Bank (uncredited), Milton the Policeman (uncredited), Smiling Cop in Central Park (uncredited)." I got tired at some point and left out a bunch of Brick Sullivan's uncredited policeman roles, possibly I left out dozens. He also played "Townsman" (five times!), "Laughing Sailor," and how could we forget "Helpful Man"? Gosh, I've given him a lot of grief, but as I look closely at the list, if imdb is right about this being him, the frame below shows Brick Sullivan in his most famous uncredited policeman role, with Gene Kelly in SINGIN' IN THE RAIN. He has an important part, really, bringing the central sequence - one of the greatest in film history - to a beautiful close. So stop making fun of Brick Sullivan! Appropriately for a performer of such dogged anonymity, the "internet" gives us the back of his head.

McNeil's "Thoughts I've Been A-Thinkin'"

Email from McNeil. It made me realize we need a feature wherein McNeil dispenses folksy wisdom. Here it is. McNeil writes: "I was thinking about that pic of Rob C. on your blog. Is that all one needs in life? An umbrella, a musket, some sort of basket, and a bit of curiosity? Perhaps. But what about love, Daniel D.? Is that just a myth (as Gordon Gekko notes in Wall Street - and perhaps many other characters in many other works of fiction. Maybe that's something for the Blogketeers to chime in on)?" Okay! Now I will try to find a good, random picture off the "internet" that we can all pretend is McNeil being thoughtful. Some guy smoking a pipe, probably. Or feeding a kangaroo. Or wallaby. Or whatever.

Return of the Velvet Suit

Remember how we used to count cigarette holders? What a waste of time that was! So we've decided to count velvet suits instead, in honor of Dr. "M." and her well known fondness for velvet suits. Right now I'm reading SCHULZ AND PEANUTS by David Michaelis, and last night I came across a description of the six-year-old Charles Schulz decked out in a velvet suit. I believe the passage is worth quoting: "[H]e sits on the grass of a St. Paul park, in velvet suit and Eton collar, earnestly posed under a lacquered Oriental parasol." Hey, do you know who else likes "Peanuts" besides George Saunders (as first reported on the "blog")? Kent Osborne, that's who! Look at the round head of his sad little character. I just spoke to Mike Mitchell tonight, who brought up Kent's comic out of the blue and couldn't stop talking about how good it is. Buy one and see for yourself! Check the "comment" space for a "blurb" from "yours truly"!

From the Desk of the Bird Correspondent

The bird correspondent replies: "Dear Jack--Are you the one Concerned about this giant crow? Someone in another area might have seen a raven, which are freaking big, but not you in the flatlands of Mississippi. A crow is crow-sized and not likely to vary all that much. Do you know how to recognize a vulture? That's about the only thing in your area that would be both solid black and bigger than a crow. A blackbird is a different thing and comes in many varieties all grouped under this umbrella term, and all are smaller than crows. Maybe it just looked really big because it was close." (Pictured, Sir Vincent Raven, whose picture I found on the "internet." He was apparently some old British dude and I don't think he had anything to do with ravens, really. - ed.)

Things I Can't Do

Phil Oppenheim sends in a breathtakingly mean-spirited email about the Gilmore Girls, one to which I cannot even make a reference without violating every human rule of decency. Did you want to hurt me, Phil? Because mission accomplished! Sheri Joseph writes in to suggest (not for the first time) that I get a myspace page. I've tried, Sheri! I don't know what I'm doing wrong, but I give up. I've also forgotten my password and I think I'm banned for life somehow. Plus I look at those pages and they drive me nuts because I'm old. Too many colors and lights! Things are moving around and bouncing around and frankly I just don't suppose I'm man enough to keep it under control. Finally on today's list of things I can't do, I love TCM and watch it constantly, and I wish I could be a "guest programmer." I even tried to send Robert Osborne a copy of my first book so he would think it was awesome and ask me to help out with his busy workload as the face of the network. But that didn't happen. Right now TCM is having a "guest programmer" contest and I encourage all "Blog" Buddies to enter, especially Jeff McNeil and all the members of the Ivan Bonar Appreciation Society. I can't enter, to my horror. First of all, you have to "upload a video of yourself." What? I'm already lost. Second, I'm kind of sort of working for Cartoon Network at the moment, which probably disqualifies me (both networks are under the Turner umbrella). But if I DID win, the four films I would program (all in the Turner library) are THE TORRID ZONE, GENTLEMAN JIM, AVANTI! and CURSE OF THE CAT PEOPLE. So if anyone reading this wins the contest, and if you enter it because you heard about it here on the "blog," please throw me a bone. Live my dream for me! (Pictured, Simone Simon, who plays a benevolent ghost in CURSE OF THE CAT PEOPLE, and who, I learned the other night from my big fat book, had a fling with George Gershwin.)