In Between

I've told you about how I'm reading George Singleton's paranoid, vertiginous high comedy WORK SHIRTS FOR MADMEN, because after all, it matters to the nation what people with "blogs" are reading. But I forgot to tell you what I read in between the Singleton book and NIGHTMARE ALLEY. Okay, so now I'll tell you: two short books by Lynda Barry. One was called THE FREDDIE STORIES. The other was ONE HUNDRED DEMONS. Lynda Barry is good! You will like her. May I just lay this on you: ONE HUNDRED DEMONS, much like ANAGRAMS by Lorrie Moore, makes reference to Jerry Lewis. (Pictured, Marlys. She is one of Lynda Barry's finest creations.)

Big Chart

One day I'm going to make a big chart.

Dissertation!

So, many of you have written in to ask how Theresa is passing her time in Oxford. Writing her dissertation, thanks for asking, and I must say that it seems to be going gangbusters! Right now she's working on her chapter on Patty Hearst and reading Hearst's autobiography - the title of which, EVERY SECRET THING, is also the title of a gripping novel by Laura Lippman. Maneuvering around on the "internet" for research purposes, Theresa ran across a fellow (Brian Joseph Davis is his name) who has a new novel about Hearst (I, TANIA, it's called) coming out. Theresa and Mr. Davis are well on their way to becoming "cyber" chums! That's how it is with these computers these days! And look at his "web" site. You will find to your surprise that he cites The Mekons as an influence on his work! Everything sure is crazy, isn't it? Hey, the other weird thing I just thought of is that the "link" to Lippman's novel, above, contains a reference to John Waters, whose work figures heavily in Theresa's current chapter. Oh yeah, and at that cookout the other evening, we discovered that one of the guests collects Patty Hearst memorabilia! And knows someone who married Patty Hearst's sister or something. Looks like everything's coming up Patty.

And What About Rats

As long as the "blog" seems to be headed in this zoological direction (I believe it all started with this rabbit), we should cut-and-paste an email we just received from old "Blog" Buddy Caroline. "I witnessed incontrovertible evidence of the distinction between rat and squirrel this week," Caroline reports. "And truly, up to this point, I have always thought of squirrels as rats with a good hairdresser and tree climbing prowess. But d***! [mild profanity deleted - ed.] I was following a BMW out of Reynoldstown and all of a sudden, what I take to be a squirrel comes flying out of the road directly in the path of the fancy car ahead and I brace for a squirrel to heaven moment. When- at the same time, I realize - (1) the squirrel in question has left home without her fuzzy tail, (2) the varmint is not a squirrel at all and is actually a huge rat, and (3) the rodent proceeds to pull off a semi-miraculous mary lou retton-esque bounce right off the designer hubcap, flips over its heels and runs right back under the home-in-renovation that it came out of... I only wish I were a savvy cell-phone wielding twenty something video junkie and this could all be posted on YouTube right now," Caroline concludes. "Instead, I am just eaten up on the inside wondering how and why squirrels don't have this built in bump and twist maneuver skill down?"

Let's Change the Subject

Lizards! So, I've been reading the new George Singleton book, WORK SHIRTS FOR MADMEN. It makes me laugh... sometimes in bed after Theresa is asleep. So I kind of choke with politeness. Anyway, lizards! I opened it up to where I left off last night, and what's the first thing I read? Something about "those little green lizards that change colors but ain't really chameleons." And why is this sentence fragment worthy of mention on the "blog"? Well, my brother and I were just talking about those lizards on the phone LAST NIGHT! And trying to think of what they were called. In fact, we said they weren't really chameleons, and used (almost) Singleton's exact words, with the exception of "ain't," I think. It came up because my brother found one (of the lizards, I mean) in his garage in Beverly Hills, California, yesterday. But it was OVER A FOOT LONG! Which is not normal. Adding to the many portentous coincidences, my brother knew nothing about the giant crow that has been the cause of so much contention recently in this eastern branch of the family. He was independently seeing his own giant animals! Nor did either of us have any way of guessing that those lizards would come up immediately in the book I happen to be reading. By the way, the correct name for those lizards is anole. Thanks, George Singleton! Thanks, universe!

Dear Bird Correspondent

And now the bird correspondent tackles McNeil's question about the buzzard. To begin with, she affirms that "buzzard" is synonymous with "vulture" in the rural Southern U.S. "But if you go over to Europe, a buzzard is brown hawk closely related to our red-tailed hawk," she adds. "I would also find it ominous to see a vulture perched on a suburban roof, which is odd behavior. Because of their very tiny brains, I'd hesitate to credit this species with psychic ability. It probably smells something dead at your neighbor's house. Vultures are the only birds with a sense of smell, and it's highly developed. If something is dead they will find it. Is your consternation related to suspected murder or, like, the ritual sacrifice of small animals? Incidentally, I've always found it creepy how many vultures there are (a lot!) in the state of Florida relative to road kill (not so much)." The bird correspondent goes on to make a joke about the retirement homes of Florida, a kind of joke that is too morbid for the peppy spirit of the "blog." Even that "small animal" crack was pretty close but we let it slip by. We can see once again our profound differences with the bird correspondent in the matter of love for small mammals. We can only assume that her remark is directed at cats, as usual. (The accompanying illustration was sent by the bird correspondent as another shaming jape. We imagine she is implying that THIS is how big of a thing I hallucinated in the yard. In any case, it is nice to have an illustration, as the angry progeny of Sir Vincent Raven [I can only assume] have removed my photo of that fine old gentleman.) P.P.S. That's weird! As soon as I typed the former parenthetical statement, the picture of Sir Vincent Raven came back! But for how long...?

Map of Shame

Sheri Joseph, our bird correspondent, sent along this map (pictured) to shame me into admitting that I could not have seen a raven in the yard. The map shows some of the places one might see a raven in the yard, and none of them are Mississippi. Please do not misinterpret the title of this "post"! We do not think it is a shame that there are ravens in so many North American locations. Far from it! We refer only to the shame that the bird correspondent wishes to pile upon us. For example, she asks in the email accompanying her map of shame, "So, describe big for me. Like, how big? Like, compared to a squatting human 2-year-old?" Now we can only describe the tone of this question as shaming! And, uh, we don't know. Almost as big as a duck? We know that we did not use the bird correspondent's "squatting 2-year-old" standard. Maybe that's a special ornithology scale we know nothing about. In any case, let us concede that we are crazy and have hallucinations and consider the matter closed.

The Bird Correspondent Marathon Continues

No, it was truly big, Dear Bird Correspondent. A lost raven, perhaps? You know, like in Poe? I mean, it was BIG! Bigger than a normal crow. And yes, I know what a vulture looks like. I would wager that anyone from Alabama can point to a vulture with some amount of certainty. But here is an astounding coincidence of the kind we so enjoy at the "blog": At the same time that I received your question about a vulture, I received a question from McNeil TO you, about a buzzard. Is a buzzard the same as a vulture? Because in Alabama, we say buzzard. So really I should qualify my former remark. Anyhow, I will turn it over to McNeil, who has what he calls a "grudging" question... but I think we can all tell that he has overcome his former antagonism toward your important work. It's his way of being sweet! Here, then, McNeil's question: "I live in a suburban neighborhood and saw a buzzard perched on a neighbor's roof - a prominent section just over their garage. It looked pretty ominous. These neighbors have been giving me and several others on the block some degree of consternation. I would like to know if buzzards possess some sort of psychic ability. In other words, is the buzzard telling me that I am right and they are wrong and that the neighbors will soon 'get it'?"

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.)

Dear Bird Correspondent

Dear Bird Correspondent, We just saw the biggest crow EVER! It was in our yard. Is this cause for concern? How big do crows get? Also, what's a blackbird? Is it just, like, a small crow or something? signed, Concerned

Sirk

It's Labor Day! So Theresa and I went over to the neighbor's house for some delicious hot dogs and hamburgers. Then it was back home, where we watched the Douglas Sirk film ALL THAT HEAVEN ALLOWS, starring Rock Hudson and Jane Wyman. In the little booklet that came with the DVD, Sirk is quoted as saying, "There is a very short distance between high art and trash, and trash that contains an element of craziness is by this very quality nearer to art." And I was like, "You said it, Douglas Sirk!" In fact, I made a mildly related observation on this very "blog" once, only not as well. So don't take it from me! Take it from Douglas Sirk. Over and out. (P.S. That's Jane Wyman in the picture but that's not Rock Hudson, of course. It's the guy who plays her crummy son.)

In Which Dr. "M." Has a Drink

In a recent email, Dr. "M." corroborates Theresa's account of spotting Morgan Freeman in the Oxford, Mississippi, area. It seems, according to Dr. "M.'s" report, that a few years ago she cornered Mr. Freeman at an Oxford cocktail party and - fueled by perhaps three martinis - attempted to engage him on serious political issues until he managed to get away. Dr. "M." remembers little about the encounter save for the patterns on Mr. Freeman's sweater, at which she stared with intensity as she spoke. Speaking of drinks, Dr. "M." enjoyed her first Pimm's Cup the other night, inspired by "blog" recommendations. The rest of her meal was not up to par. Let us hear it in Dr. "M.'s" own words, in her capacity as "blog" food critic: "I ended up sending back my dinner! I ordered the veggie plate of all things, and it was as if someone had poured an entire canister of salt on top. I mean, it was salty, people! Unbelievably salty. My tongue felt as if someone had cleaned it with a salty abrasive. (Yes, sometimes my mouth does need to be washed out with soap, but not salt!! Ugh.) I then ordered a side salad to replace it because the Farmer was close to done with his pork chop/ mac-n-cheese dish (also salty!) and I didn't want to get a whole new plate of food. The salad was terrible. Why, you ask? Because the dressing was super-salty!! The Farmer can confirm the oversaltedness of everything because I made him taste it. It was just like that SNL skit with Tom Hanks where he makes everyone try the spoiled milk. Just like that." Needless to say, Dr. "M.'s" meal did not take place in New Orleans, the home of the Pimm's Cup, where food is good. We hesitate to even name the city in which such a meal was served. In fact, we will not. Dr. "M." signed off with this happier information: "My dad wrote a column once about holding a hummingbird in his hand."

Leacock Fever Sweeps U.S. Mainland

Inspired by the "blog," McNeil visited his local library. "All out of Paley...but chock full of Leacock," he reports. He checked out a Leacock, on Phil's recommendation. See how the "blog" works? It spreads culture throughout the land, like a horrible virus.

Happy

Is there no end to the happiness provided by our "fave" Aquaman "blog"? That's where we found this "link," with all its obvious import. Somewhere Woody Woodbury is "smiling."

Tumult!

Yesterday afternoon I had three emails about the "blog." A record! I hardly know how to keep track. The FBIL wrote in to say that "blogging" circles should be called "blircles." All I can say in response is, "Welcome to the family!" McNeil would like to see Phil Oppenheim nominated for a "blog" award in recognition of his Cash U. Nutt reference. "And I am not a man who is easily awed," McNeil concluded. Finally this from Barry B.: "Yeah man, hummingbirds are tiny."

Mel Shavelson

McNeil writes to tell me that I missed an important passing: that of Mel Shavelson. Now you know I don't want the "blog" to become a list of interesting people who have died, but McNeil is right... Shavelson is of particular interest to the "blog," and not only for his long association with Bob Hope. The GILLIGAN'S ISLAND theme song was recorded in HIS HOUSE! And he created MY WORLD AND WELCOME TO IT (I had no idea before reading his obituary) a forgotten sitcom that introduced me to the work of James Thurber and sparked my first real intention of becoming a "writer," back when I was just a little kid. Thanks, Mel Shavelson!

Souvenir

Hey, look, everybody, Jim Whorton was in Washington, D.C., researching his next novel, and was kind enough to snap this photo of a photo on display at the Library of Congress because he knew in his heart we would like to put it on the "blog." As you can see, it involves two previous subjects of "blog" concern, or "blog"cern as we call it in "blogging" circles. That was thoughtful, Jim! Thanks!

What Phil Is Reading

Phil Oppenheim has written to ask, "Am I correct in assuming that the Nutt Auditorium was named in honor of the Fire Chief Cash U. Nutt (the fellow on the right, of course)?" We thank him for our most obscure "blog" reference since "I'm Dickens, He's Fenster," as well as the accompanying illustration of said Nutt. Phil goes on to ask: "Is the Decatur Book Festival really as great as you crack it up to be? I’ve never been, and am interested in seeing The Kinkster and Chris Raschka." Go, Phil, we say. Go! Phil concludes: "I bet our reading lists no longer coincide. We went to Vancouver a couple of weeks back, and I’ve been (slowly) reading Stephen Leacock, who is pretty ******* hilarious (in my opinion); also, I’ve been reading the Three Line Novels of Felix Feneon (one the NYRB reprints). What about you? I looked for some Grace Paley stuff on your recommendation at the (newly moved) Atlanta Book Exchange, but they were plumb out of them (or is it 'plum'?)." Once again, we see that the "blog" is our nation's most reliable cultural arbiter. We used to say that if the "blog" could only convince one single person to read Grace Paley and go to the Decatur Book Festival it would have done its job. So now it has done its job and everything from here on out is gravy. Useless gravy.

Aquaman & Co.

Something I learnt from the "internet" today: Even Aquaman has to take a shower once in awhile! Hey, speaking of which, remember this "post"? It has nothing to do with Aquaman aside from a slim titular similarity, but gosh I was just thinking of it fondly today and sighing and all. Speaking of sighing, Theresa saw Morgan Freeman on the street corner last night! That has nothing to do with Aquaman either. But it's a tidbit! We are a tidbit machine. I feel like I'm writing Larry King's old column... and doing a fantastic job.

Decatur Book Festival

Everyone should go to the Decatur Book Festival this Labor Day Weekend. I had a lot of fun the last time I was there. I was supposed to be there this year, but we ended up moving and the time just wasn't right... much to the consternation of Tom Franklin, who will be driving down there by himself now. Sorry, Tom! Lots of other "Blog" Buddies will be there, too - Amanda Stern (pictured, left), for example, in one of her rare appearances outside of New York. Her panels are a "must"! It pains me that I'll miss this chance to see her. I've only seen her when I've had a new book come out and I go up to the Big City for her reading series... I can't write books fast enough, and that's why! Every time I knock off a new book I think, "Oh boy, I'll get to hang out with Amanda." So go to all her panels and find out why. Got an email from Wesley Stace (pictured, right) last night, promising all sorts of shenanigans in Decatur. Alas, I had to tell him I would not be there. Go see him read and/or play music. He can do both! It's really not fair. If you go see Sheri Joseph read, as you bloody well should, be sure and ask her a bird question afterward... that's right, she's our beloved bird correspondent. And then there's Jamie Allen, who's one of the people who puts the whole thing together every year, and a fine job he does. Well, tell everyone I said hello and sorry I couldn't make it. I'm probably forgetting some other "Blog" Buddies. Check out the full schedule and see how many "Blog" Buddies YOU can spot! It's easy and fun for the whole family. For instance, I just "clicked" on it and saw pictures of Natasha Trethewey and Kinky Friedman, and although the latter is by no stretch of the imagination a "Blog" Buddy, the fact remains that Dan Brown, who directed the movie version of my story "The Pipe," also made some campaign videos for Mr. Friedman when he was running for governor of Texas. So you see, the "blog" has its fingers in all pies. Go to the Festival and represent! Do it for the "blog"!

Yes, I Said the Nutt Auditorium, What About It?

I'll be reading on campus tonight at 6:30. Come on by the Nutt Auditorium.

Nature Walk

Tom Franklin stopped by to direct my attention to an old stump in the yard. There was part of a snakeskin in it. Tom had retrieved most of the snakeskin yesterday, as a curiosity for his daughter. But the main thing Tom wanted to show me was a yellow jacket nest next to the stump. He had been crossing our yard yesterday to swim in the neighbor's pool when he noticed both the snakeskin and the nest. Tom gave me several tips on how to deal with the yellow jackets, and also wished to clear the record on wasps and the nature of evil. Stephen Jay Gould, said Tom, had been writing about a specific kind of wasp in the essay to which Tom had referred during our recent conversation on the subject. Tom did not mean to paint all wasps with the same broad brush!

Guest Editorial

Today's rebuttal comes from McNeil, who writes in protest to an earlier post: "at no point did i ever dispute the vast knowledge or easygoing prose style of the bird correspondent...over which there can actually be no disputing whatsoever. I was just tired of it on the blog. The blog was turning into a birdblog. I am trying to help you be a man again. Not a birdman, but a manlyman who blogs about crooners intstead of cranes. By having you look things up, I was trying to get you to get out of your chair and walk over to the shelf, or to the bookstore or wherever you need to go (the street corner perhaps), and do something for yourself for a change. I, as a FRIEND, am a helper. These others (and I am not necessarily singling out the bird person here) who hand you stories like you're some small-time newspaper rag ripping stories off the wire and calling it a day. These people are ENABLERS. I am a helper. I am trying to get you to become the Charles Foster Kane of the Blogiverse. my pain pills are wearing off."

Pistachios

"I can't stop eating pistachios," reports Jim Whorton. More on this breaking story as it develops.

Lives of the Crooners

"I do not think I am alone in requesting that you drop all this nonsense about birds," writes McNeil. "Enough with the tweeting - more with the crooning." In fact, you are quite alone, Mr. McNeil. In a way, aren't birds nature's crooners? As Messiaen said, well, I don't know. He said a lot of nice things about birds. I'm too tired to walk over to the shelf and get the biography and flip through the index. I suppose it is easy for you to criticize the vast knowledge and easygoing prose style of the bird correspondent. But wouldn't it be more constructive to submit some tidbits about crooners instead? The bird correspondent seems to be holding up her end of the workload! As I recall, the last time you started to tell me a story about a crooner, I asked for more details and you told me to look it up in a book! If I bothered to look things up in books, this would not be a "blog" (see Messiaen, above). By coincidence, however, I received the following message on my myspace page today, from a stranger who is designated my "friend" in the strange world of the "internet." I present it here to assuage your avian agitation: "Sometime in the 70s, when my mom was little [!!!! - ed.], her parents took her on a tour of Universal Studios. They were looking at the set from the scene in 'The Ten Commandments' where Charlton Heston parted the Red Sea. Her dad, a theologian, took a couple of steps back to better admire the separating walls of water, and he bumped right into Jerry Lewis." Allow us to interject that the studio was probably Paramount, not Universal. Lewis did the majority of his work under contract to Paramount, and we believe that THE TEN COMMANDMENTS was a Paramount production, if we are remembering correctly. We count Lewis as a crooner because in addition to his many other accomplishments he was(and is) a crooner. Also, to get McNeil off our back.

Dear Bird Correspondent

"Present-day birds do not have teeth, though prehistoric ones did," replies the bird correspondent. "Your readers might be interested to know that, due to this fact that birds once had teeth, geneticists are hard at work creating a toothed chicken for our very own world, not because we need more vicious chickens but because getting a chicken to do this is step one in the fight against male pattern baldness. Seriously. [Here the bird correspondent generously provides a "link" - ed.] You’d think if doctors were going to help people grow things they no longer have, they’d come up with something better than hair on a bald dude. It’s that powerful comb lobby at work again. Ever yours, The Bird Correspondent"

Dear Bird Correspondent

Dear Bird Correspondent, Are there, or have there ever been, birds with teeth? signed, Needs To Know

A Sandwich To Remember

Would you like to eat the greatest sandwich in the world? Why of course you would! Well, then, I recommend the "Big Easy" at the Ajax Diner in Oxford, MS. It is chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes and gravy, butterbeans, pickles, and something that may be green - I'm going to go out on a limb and say chopped cabbage, or maybe I was imagining that part. But let me make it clear that NONE of those other ingredients I just listed are side items. They are ON THE SANDWICH. Butterbeans... ON THE SANDWICH. Mashed potatoes... ON THE SANDWICH. EVERYTHING I listed is ON THE SANDWICH. And it's not too messy because it is put together with sweet love and consideration. With all due respect to Savage Pizza's marinated chicken sub, which will always hold a place in my heart, the two sandwiches are not even in the same universe.

Today's Weather: No Apples

Welcome once more to "Today's Weather," a continuing public service of the "blog." McNeil phones in a report from Charlotte, North Carolina. "We have a green apple tree and a red apple tree in the yard," he says. "Neither one is producing apples this year. It's too hot and dry. And that's a shame, because those are some tasty apples. The green ones make good pie."

Dear Bird Correspondent

Sheri Joseph, our bird correspondent, is still going on about that dang rufous-sided towhee. She went to dinner last night at the home of the friend where she first saw the bird in question repeatedly attack a glass door. Her friend, the bird correspondent writes, "reports that the same bird hangs out on their car all day and beats himself up in the side mirrors. I'm attaching a picture of the male, who sports a jaunty black jacket (your other pic was a female). Megan [the bird correspondent's friend - ed.], who lives sort of between Decatur and Fernbank, also has a very bold neighborhood pair of great horned owls that swoop in front of people's cars and land in low tree limbs or on roofs, and also (I told her) probably eat cats and small dogs that are let out at night." Witness, for a second time, the bird correspondent's latent hostility toward cats, which is endangering her continued role on the "blog."

Again With the Sad

Grace Paley has passed away. Have you read her stories? Do! She is a musician of words, as musical, scientific, progressive, and adventurous as Max Roach, our other recently departed genius. By coincidence, the writing class I am teaching at Ole Miss will discuss one of Ms. Paley's stories a week from today. It's called "In Time Which Made a Monkey of Us All" and it has an actual monkey in it. I also seem to recall some sharp and sparkling conversations about writing that Ms. Paley had with Donald Barthelme. I believe I came across them in a book called "Not-Knowing." Look it up! Okay, we don't want to become just a list of wonderful people who have passed away, but still. Maud Newton has a lot of good "links" where you can find out more about Grace Paley.

Lives of the Crooners

Welcome once more to our continuing series "Lives of the Crooners." So the other night I was in that same bar and I met a fellow who had coached high school women's basketball in Nevada. Once his team played the Lake Tahoe team. And the short, extremely talented guard on that rival team was none other than the daughter of Sammy Davis, Jr. "Her mother was in the stands, that Swedish actress," he said. "May Britt," I replied, earning the lifelong respect and admiration of all present.

Hummingbird!

I saw a hummingbird out our front window. Know what? They're small.

Farmer Alert

Attention persons in the Atlanta area. The "blog's" "fave" farmer will be unmasked tonight, in an appearance on Fox 5 News. The subject of the report is sustainable farming. We'll let you know if they put up a "link."

The Bird Correspondent Was No Help At All

Last night at a bar, Tom Franklin chastised me for what he perceived as my timid and ambivalent relationship with Goldie the Wasp. Wasps, he declared, are the personification of evil, and cited an article by Stephen Jay Gould to back up his claim. I should swat them with a badminton racket, he suggested, bunting them onto the roof, where they would bake in the sun. He laughed off my suggestion that his method might be considered harsh. "They came down from the attic and stung me on my neck! In my own home!" he bellowed. I quoted the Godfather Part II back at him, "In MY HOUSE! Where my CHILDREN play with THEIR TOYS!" and oh the jolly warm chuckles we shared at our mutual shenanigans. When I got home, I had an email from the bird correspondent, who had the nerve to suggest that we put our cats in harm's way by training them to kill and eat wasps! She refused to give me the name of a bird that could do the trick - so protective of her precious birds, though their tough beaks are much more suited to the task than the soft pads of a cat. I appear to be alone on the wasp matter. I believe I shall next consult Aristophanes (pictured), who wrote a play about wasps, and I am sure it contains a lot of good tips on getting rid of them.

"Blog" Takes Over New York Times

Well, today in the New York Times there is a nice review of Kent's movie. And yesterday there was a nice review of Jon and Sally's new CD in that same august publication (they're in the Mekons - see the final review in the article). Not only that, but I received an email asking me to write something for the Sunday New York Times Book Review. That's what I'm supposed to be working on right now, instead of "blogging." Yes, as predicted at an earlier date, the "blog" is becoming the cultural arbiter of the nation through its subsidiary, the New York Times. Hooray for everybody!

Real Stories of Danger

To everyone who has written in to ask, "So, the wasps are for real?" Answer: Yes. There's still one left - I call him Goldie on account of his golden hue. We are maintaining a respectful distance as I type this. And yes I've tried everything. I need to ask the bird correspondent: are there any birds who enjoy eating wasps? Where can I purchase one?

Lives of the Crooners

Our entry on my brother's encounter with Robert Goulet has gotten such an amazing response (or SHOULD HAVE!) that we have decided to turn it into a recurring feature entitled "Lives of the Crooners." Like, what about the time that Tony Bennett criticized my brother's shoes? They were at a fancy shindig and Will overheard Tony Bennett saying, "The kid's wearing sneakahs!" in a disapproving tone of voice. Speaking of which, once upon a time, when Barry B. was working in the mailroom of a mammoth corporation, an entourage came marching down the hall. Barry B. was talking to a friend of his, who was wearing camouflage pants. When the leader of the pack breezed by, he said to Barry B.'s friend, "Nice pants, man." And the fellow who liked the pants was none other than... Sammy Davis, Jr. And now you know... THE REST OF THE STORY! Send your tidbits about crooners to "Lives of the Crooners," c/o the Pendarvis Amphibious "Blogging" Command Module, Oxford, MS.

Robert Goulet

Once Robert Goulet hit my brother in the chest. It was all in good fun, but it hurt! That's an old story but today I've got nothing.

Disgruntled Red Wasps

The "blogging" area has been invaded by wasps. Expect light to no "blogging" today - but lots of high-pitched yelping and comical running around.

The Great Max Roach

We see in the paper today that the great drummer Max Roach has died. He could really make his drums sing, worry, and discuss important things. He could play! He is the kind of musician who gravely concerns the famous intellectual because Max Roach never stopped trying to figure things out. One interesting place to start listening to Mr. Roach, if you don't know him, might be the trio record he made with Duke Ellington and Charles Mingus. It's called MONEY JUNGLE. Max Roach, everybody!

Attention People of Hubcap City

To my friend in Hubcap City I say: check this out. It's right up your alley. Also, we got the secret 1974 Bruce Springsteen recordings. Thanks! It's fun to get mail (see "link" above).

Dear Bird Correspondent

On today's episode of Dear Bird Correspondent, the DBC respectfully disagrees with Pia Ehrhardt's fanciful ideas about why birds run into glass. "That sounds like a pretty lethal way to go about getting ****!" writes our bird correspondent. "Male birds will sometimes hit a window because they think the reflection is another male in their territory, but in that case the bird is usually leaping from a few inches off and not hitting very hard. I've seen a rufous-sided towhee try to beat itself up at a patio sliding glass door for about half an hour. Avian amor, on the other hand, requires a whole getting-to-know-you process that can't be accomplished with one's reflection the way trouncing an aggressive-looking invader can. Birds that strike a window at full speed do it because they don't see the glass." Notice how the bird correspondent manages to offhandedly toss out the fact that she has seen a "rufous-sided towhee." What does she take us for? By the way, our non-bird correspondent Dr. "M." has ventured off her usual beat to also write us on the subject of birds crashing into windows. "I once heard Charles Seabrook of the AJC give a talk about the high rate of bird deaths in downtown Atlanta," she reports. "He was working on some sort of campaign to get the office buildings downtown to turn off their lights at night." We hope it did the trick! (Okay, we guess that rufous-sided towhees exist after all, because here's a picture of one.)

The Joker's Wild

Speaking of game shows, McNeil is at it again, looking up more clips on the YouTube. Today he got some enjoyment from this snippet of "The Joker's Wild," and he hope you will, too.

Today's Weather: Almost Too Hot to "Blog"

Here, in our long-awaited new installment of "Today's Weather," we send greetings from our new town, where the high was 104 or, as the locals call it, "almost too hot to 'blog'"... ALMOST!

Dr. "M.'s" TV Korner: Jeopardy!

Welcome once again to Dr. "M.'s" TV Korner, where anonymous college professor and holder of a doctorate in *********, Dr. "M.," reports all of her thoughts about television. The recent uptick in "blog" talk about Alex Trebek has prompted Dr. "M" to write in with some surprising details about her family's TV past. Her mother, it turns out, was a contestant on JEOPARDY! (exclamation point theirs) in 1965 (though of course Mr. Trebek did not host the show at that time). We hope that this scant information will be the subject of much elaboration, possibly in the form of "Dr. 'M.'s' Mother's TV Korner." Please start mining your mother for tidbits, Dr. "M." Tidbits are the lifeblood of any "blog"! Note: this "post" takes on a certain poignance given the recent passing of JEOPARDY!'s creator, Merv Griffin.

Whorton On Rollers

Jim Whorton chimes in about McNeil's HIGH ROLLERS segment: "Did you notice how at one point, when the contestant starts to use a calm voice, Alex Trebek says 'Don't go quiet on us now, Gene!' That took me back to junior high when I was in the marching band, and getting in trouble simply for not being excited."

Villains Love Franklin

"Comic Book Villain" writes in, intrigued by a recent "blog" reference to Tom Franklin. It seems that in reality "CBV" works for a Milwaukee bookshop where he and his coworkers worship Franklin like a god. The "internet" brings us all together once again.

Dear Bird Correspondent

This just in from bird lover Pia Z. Ehrhardt: "My theory about birds repeatedly flying into windows is that they think they're mating with a bird who looks a lot like them and can't take no for an answer." We hereby place Pia's theory (though it is a little "saucier" than our usual "blogging" material) before the eyes of our loyal bird correspondent, and await her stern judgement.

We Must Ask

And what kind of messed up world do we live in when the HIGH ROLLERS segment gets 19,000+ viewings while the magnificent performance of Bob Denver's chin rates just over 8,000? Oh, what Hesiod said was right!

Klugman & Other Delights

"I was searching for Jack Klugman on YouTube," began yesterday's telephone call from McNeil. Ah, McNeil! Somehow, McNeil explained, he ran across this "clip" from HIGH ROLLERS, which has nothing to do with Klugman. You could say that a lot more happens in the ROLLERS segment than happened on the "clip" of APPLE'S WAY with which McNeil previously favored us. Still, the "clip" makes McNeil wonder. Who saved it for all these years? How did they record it in '77 or '78, when VCRs were not readily available (close analysis has led McNeil to the conclusion that the "clip" was made at the time of its original airing, not taken from a present-day showing on the Game Show Network)? Finally, why has it been the object of well over 19,000 viewings? Even more fascinating to McNeil is a YouTube PASSWORD appearance by Jack Klugman in which nothing happens at all (see APPLE'S WAY, above).

Dear Bird Correspondent

Welcome to the latest installment of "Dear Bird Correspondent." In today's entry, the bird correspondent replies to a previously posed query. She writes: "I'm afraid Miss Young's question is outside the purview of the bird correspondent, as it seems to pertain to strange human behavior rather than anything specifically avian. I will say that, while I've seen cardinals do some unlikely things, like feed goldfish in a backyard pond, I'm doubtful that any of them would spend any significant time hanging out on the antlers of a live deer." The bird correspondent was kind enough to include a photo of a cardinal feeding a goldfish, which we attach here for your reflection.

Update

The "blog"trospective of Tom Franklin has now been updated to include his enjoyment of the film WHIFFS. Thank you and good night.

Whiffs

Dinner with Tom Franklin tonight. He complained that he has not been on the "blog" enough lately. Later he described a "fave" Elliot Gould movie of his youth, which he claimed was entitled WHIFFS. I argued that such a movie did not exist - the plot, according to Franklin, was something about Gould using his sense of smell to stage a crime spree. Furthermore, I decreed that if I found evidence of such a movie (which I highly doubted, as during my teenage years I considered Elliot Gould and Alan Arkin to be the greatest actors of all time and sought out all their features, and I still think they're not too shabby) I would restore Tom Franklin to his rightful place on the "blog." Well, not only did I find the movie WHIFFS on the "internet," I found someone auctioning off its novelization. And please note that the auction is centered in Mobile County, Alabama, where Franklin lived for many years. Coincidence?

Computers Are Fine

My attitude toward computers is on the upswing, and not just because by saying I wanted to meet Robert Osborne on my "myspace" page, I unwittingly put the wheels in motion to make it come true. Speaking of "myspace," a guy on there who calls himself "Comic Book Villain" clued me in to a new series about the Metal Men which seems to echo happily the guileless Metal Men of my youth rather than being all modern and exciting, with Metal Men cussing and so on. So that was nice of him and not noticeably villainous at all. How would I have found out about it otherwise? I am out of that "loop." Or I was. But not anymore, thanks to the magic of computing. So the main thing that has improved my computer mood is the computer's role in the resurgence of old-fashioned penpalism, that is, correspondence with nice strangers, sometimes resulting in bartering. For example, thanks to computers I was able to swap books through the actual US mail with Megan Abbott, likewise two of my books for a DVD of WE GO WAY BACK by Lynn Shelton, a fine film director I have gotten to know through "myspace," where our shared affection for Ingmar Bergman and Jerry Lewis was made manifest through our mutual enjoyment of this "clip." Plus Ms. Abbott informed me with her computer that the novel NIGHTMARE ALLEY, upon which my "fave" movie is based, is still in print thanks to the Library of America. And that's what I'm reading and loving now. In fact, I just put Chapter One of NIGHTMARE ALLEY on my syllabus for Ole Miss. All thanks to computers and the people who use them.

Dear Bird Correspondent

We are hereby changing the title of our new regular feature to "Dear Bird Correspondent." Caroline Young emailed today with a question for Dr. Sheri Joseph, the aforementioned bird correspondent. We reproduce it here with Ms. Young's original punctuation, though not with her expressive line breaks, because we have never learned to do that on a "blog." And now, Ms. Young's question: "dear bird correspondent, what is the etiquette for stuffing a cardinal? is there ever an excuse? and what of "displaying" the aforementioned bird, wings spread, atop the antlers of a stag who noses out of the wall over the wares in a posh fine silver shop? is that considered gauche? or am i just being stuffy? c" We take it from the tone that Ms. Young has witnessed an atrocity of the kind she describes, and await the bird correspondent's thoughts with a bittersweet reserve. In a related matter, the bird correspondent has written in to say "I also do avian psychoanalysis." So there's that, if you own or know a bird with a problem.

The Bird Correspondent

Welcome to our newest and possibly greatest regular feature, "The Bird Correspondent, Starring Sheri Joseph." I told Sheri Joseph that she could be the bird correspondent and it went to her head immediately. She wrote: "As bird correspondent, I should also say that your bird could have been a juvenile cardinal of either sex. You can tell by the beak, which is very peachy to red-orange on the adult females but dull brown on the juveniles." Okay, then, bird correspondent. I should also mention that Pia Z. Ehrhardt loves birds, apparently. Me, I was attacked by a bird under suspicious circumstances. But I share with Pia a love of the composer Messiaen (pictured), who transcribed and put to use many birdsongs. I feel that Sheri would also enjoy Messiaen, if she doesn't already. Good day to you all.

Squirrel II: The Reckoning

Dr. "M" reports seeing a squirrel in her own yard, eating corn on the cob in an endearing "typewriter" fashion.

That Bird

Sheri Joseph writes in to say that the bird was probably a female cardinal. Dr. "M." files a report from Atlanta: several Bruce Springsteen sightings from many quarters - so perhaps I am not crazy. In related news, I saw a tiny squirrel carrying almost a whole big apple across the yard. Way to go, squirrel!

Bird

A bird hit our window. He seemed okay. Looked at me for a second and flew off. Little brown bird with a dashing topknot and wide reddish tail. What kind of bird was that? Let us know.

Chicago

Hey, remember when I read three novels in a row with Pernod in them? Wow! I don't think any of us will ever forget that important time in our nation's history. Well, now Theresa and I have watched three movies in a row with Chicago in them. I know what you're thinking: Uncanny! Significant! Yes. First came PARTY GIRL, starring Cyd Charisse (not to be confused with the Parker Posey film of the same name). It's set mostly in Chicago. After that, in HOLLYWOOD OR BUST, starring Dean & Jerry, with a special appearance by Anita Ekberg, the boys drive through Chicago and crack a few jokes about it. In TORRID ZONE, Cagney's plan is to quit the banana plantation and get a nice quiet job in Chicago. Okay, mull that over for awhile. Mull it, I said!

Happy Late Charles Fort's Birthday!

I see on our "fave" Aquaman "blog" that yesterday was the birthday of Charles Fort. I completely forgot to get anyone a present! Go to the library and look at old newspapers and if you find a good clipping, say "This one's for you, Chuck."

"Blog," Where Is Thy "Zing"?

Back when I "posted" my very first "post" I promised to "link" to something about The Metal Men one day. I'm working myself up to it, I promise. I can see it in my head, but my weary fingers won't type it. McNeil writes in to say that the "blog" has lost some of its "zing" since we moved away from Atlanta. He blames the dismantling of the Pendarvis Building. But our new Amphibious "Blogging" Command Module has its advantages, believe you me! I just need to get the feel of it. Then there's going to be "zing" all over the place.

Misc.

Speaking of THE BELIEVER, the article about Fletcher Hanks makes a passing reference to Milton, dropping in a common interpretation of PARADISE LOST that really gets Stanley Fish's goat. It's the same thing that Blake said about Milton... that he was of the devil's party without knowing it. Fish says baloney! But in another little connection of the kind we contemplate here at the "blog," I was thinking that Hanks' visual style reminded me of Blake's (see illustration) in a crude way. I'm sure I'm not the first to notice it. Anyway, everything seems connected, doesn't it? We like to see patterns, we people do.

Wiry

How could I mention the most recent issue of THE BELIEVER without alerting you to the interview that Nick Hornby conducts with David Simon?

Stardust

The FBIL is here. This morning he chuckled warmly as he leafed through our copy of I SHALL DESTROY ALL THE CIVILIZED PLANETS! (exclamation point not mine), which I had placed on the coffee table for purposes of just such entertainment. Later we went to our new neighborhood bookstore (see the "links" sidebar to the right) and found out that the author of I SHALL DESTROY ALL THE CIVILIZED PLANETS!, Fletcher Hanks, is the subject of an article in the new BELIEVER magazine. As faithful readers - who may or may not exist - know, I am now okay with my favorite secret things being disseminated to the public at large (anxiety over that kind of occurrence is coincidentally the subject of a letter to THE BELIEVER this month), so I have no problem with everyone enjoying the work of Fletcher Hanks, even though the depressing coda to I SHALL DESTROY ALL THE CIVILIZED PLANETS! explains that he was a terribly mean man. Let me just add that while reading Mr. Hanks' comic book stories of a superhero named Stardust, I couldn't help but notice a few details which put me in mind of my upcoming novel. For example, at one point Stardust gathers everyone on the planet (they have all unwillingly flown off into space for reasons that you need to find out for yourself) and returns them to the exact locations from which they were expelled into the ether. The narrator of my novel does not do that but - SPOILER ALERT! - he does do something else with all the people of the earth. Also, Stardust can grow his hand to an amazing size - or so it appears in the drawings - and clobber people. On his wedding day, my narrator turns his hands into the size of bulldozer scoops. I can say no more. But this is just a weird coincidence. And anyway, it is not for clobbering purposes. Plus the novel was finished long before I discovered Fletcher Hanks. Still, I feel a strange tingle of kinship (professionally but not personally, I hope, with such a nasty fellow) and my old familiar jitters about treading a worn path.

Fish

But I will say that the grandest present I have ever given myself was packing up that Stanley Fish book and putting it in storage for the length of our stay here. Nothing against Mr. Fish! His book was thoughtful and fascinating, at least the part I read. But while we were in the middle of moving it was the only readily available book in the house and I suppose I grew to resent the power it had over me as such. There are a lot of different things Milton meant by the word "low" and I realized with a certain gloominess that I was going to read about every one of them and that was all I was going to read for days and days. But Mr. Fish did prompt me to dig out my Milton and bring it to Mississippi - it's unpacked and sitting upstairs in my new office right now - and by the time we are done here and get our stuff out of storage I am sure I will be ready to give Fish's intriguing and stimulating book another go. That I wearied was a matter of circumstance. It was all my fault. But you know, sometimes the greatest feeling in the world is closing a book.

Rabbit

We are in Oxford! We saw a rabbit! Too dazed and blissful to "blog" effectively. Must lie down.

McNeil's Movie Korner: Blue

This is not a drill! The "hard drive" is about to be packed up, and when we plug it in again in Mississippi, who knows if it will even work? So at the very least I owe you all one last edition of McNeil's Movie Korner. McNeil emailed the other day with a tawdry pun - unfit for "blogging" - about a movie that TCM was airing. The subject header of his email was "Goin' Blue," and the title of the movie was THE EXTRAORDINARY SEAMAN. The body of the email consisted of McNeil's sly and unprintable jape, which he capped off with a dedication: "That one's for Redd Foxx," he wrote. Persons who know Mr. Foxx only from SANFORD AND SON will be confused. Others will share a knowing wink with McNeil. Hey, speaking of TCM (I hate to horn in on McNeil's Movie Korner, but we are pressed for time here) I saw a little bit of SHANE last night and realized that I was way off base when I speculated here on the "blog" that John Qualen might be in it. There was another guy in it who looks nothing like John Qualen, but played a character similar to the one Qualen plays in THE SEARCHERS - if he truly was in THE SEARCHERS. I don't know if I can trust my memory anymore. But this is a "blog" so it just doesn't matter. I'm not the encyclopedia, for goodness sake! I'm just a man.

Interruption of Service

As hinted at in an earlier "post," there's a lot going on here in the ruins of the Pendarvis Building and the "blog" might temporarily cease production at any

McNeil's Movie Korner: Angels With Dirty Faces

Welcome once more to McNeil's Movie Korner. McNeil called this morning to say that he just saw ANGELS WITH DIRTY FACES (1938) for the first time, and cannot imagine why it took him so long. It just slipped through the cracks somehow. Among his raves, McNeil was particularly overjoyed by the freshness and power of the surprising yet inevitable ending. His admiration for the movie sent him scampering for the "internet," where he was intrigued by this bio of the guy who played the Cagney character as a young man.

As Milestone Is Reached, Internal Critics Remain Uneasy About Direction of "Blog"

For the second time in a row, a centenary "post" has been marred by commercialism, according to a statement released today by B. Proctor Weems, CEO of "Blog" Industries. "We thought Pendarvis had learned his lesson given the crass nature of his 800th 'post,'" Weems remarked. "It certainly seemed to have damaged him emotionally. But the 900th 'post' on The Place Where Jack Pendarvis has a 'Blog' is even more egregious. It is titled 'The Unnamed,' but may as well be called 'Buy My Book, Suckers.' This is the opposite of what we had been led to believe Pendarvis would produce in a 'blogging' capacity." Pendarvis held a hastily assembled press conference (pictured) to defend his actions. "Look," he said. "I'll make a list right now of 'posts' I don't even recall writing. Just random cr-p. Is that what they want? Fine. Meanwhile, we're moving, so maybe Weems can retool the 'blog' while I'm gone. I'll see everyone some time in August. Who knows what the 'blog' will look like then?" Later in the day, Pendarvis Building interns indeed released "links" to the most obscure and forgotten "posts" in the Pendarvis canon. We have not examined them in depth, but they do seem to support Pendarvis' claim that he writes generally about ephemera that can serve no sane commercial purpose. The complete list follows: "Andy Garcia"---"Shoes"---"What's Next For Forky?"---"Sorehead"---"Leftover Roast"---"Shake Well"---"Preemptive Calendar Rebuttal"---"Refrigerator Door"

The Unnamed

As you know, there's a certain online bookseller whose name we never mention and to whom we never "link." But we think about it all the time with various degrees of suspicion and disgruntlement. And yesterday we noticed that they suddenly switched the paperback of my first book (THE MYSTERIOUS SECRET OF THE VALUABLE TREASURE) from "ships in 24 hours" status to "ships in 1 to 3 weeks." That's not nice! It won't encourage people to enjoy the fruits of my brain! Such a delay is usually reserved for scholarly works about the Mayan language from small university presses. That's fine if you are a Mayan scholar! Three weeks is no big deal! But most regular joes need a quick fix in this day and age of "computers" and "automobiles." And the paperback only came out in January. It should be easy to obtain. I trust that this is a temporary setback due to the kind words of Laura Lippman on NPR. I mean, in my fevered imagination, perhaps this electronic bookseller has been overwhelmed with requests from NPR listeners, necessitating the delay. But I am here to let you know that many other reliable booksellers seem to have no problem stocking the book, so knock yourselves out! Powell's, for example, seems adequately prepared for the Dionysian onslaught. I was walking by A Cappella just yesterday, and noted that they were stuffed to overflowing with moldering copies of my dense, challenging work. For that matter, "click" on any of the independent bookstores listed in my "links" to the right. They will ship you a book as happily as any giant octopus of commerce. Plus they take sweet, tender care. Oh yeah, and the publisher has had tons of trouble unloading the hardcover. Wouldn't you prefer a hardcover? They're lying around everywhere like manna. All pretense of "art" has now officially fallen away. You know what the "blog" is for.

Tater Mitts Redux

Last night at dinner, the future brother-in-law (FBIL) revealed that he has been discussing the Tater Mitts at work. One of his coworkers recalled seeing a bad review of said Tater Mitts in a magazine, though the FBIL could not recall which magazine. In any case, it seems that one must parboil the potatoes before the Tater Mitts can be effective. Yet once the potatoes are parboiled, the Tater Mitts hardly seem necessary! Or so ran the reviewer's complaints, as the FBIL's coworker recalled. Just now, the FBIL has emailed with more information. The coworker now believes that the magazine was GOOD HOUSEKEEPING. The FBIL, however, cannot find the alleged bad review of Tater Mitts online. Here's what he did find (in his words): "a link to a TV station in Pennsylvania that ran a story about the Good Housekeeping Institute and their mission to test every product ever featured on an infomercial. Four paragraphs down you find out that Tater Mitts only received one star (as opposed to four stars earned by 'Earlifts')." The FBIL goes on: "It looks like the Magic Bullet [another object of "blog"templation - ed.] did not fare too well with the folks at Good Housekeeping either." He concludes, "How sad." We agree, FBIL. We agree. Because their infomercial is AWESOME! (Pictured, one of the infomercial characters who loves the Magic Bullet.)

Baristas!

Well, I went into Aurora in Little Five Points, my "fave" coffee shop, for one of the last times before the move, and perhaps THE last time while my two "fave" baristas are on duty. They were talking about Barry Hannah this morning! And listening to ARTHUR (one of The Kinks' best albums) on vinyl. Come on! Goodbye, "fave" baristas.

Fried Chicken, Green Beans, Macaroni & Cheese

The interns have opened a record number of telegrams asking what exactly Robert Osborne and I had for lunch. Fried chicken, green beans, and macaroni and cheese.

Phil's Friend's Book

As promised, here is the skinny on Phil's friend's book. It's called SIPPIN' SAFARI. After you look at it, explore his interesting "web" site.

Unsanctioned

I was talking to this guy at a party and it turns out he's part of a club that participates in "unsanctioned" bicycle races. There is, apparently, a subculture of vegan bicyclists and another subculture of bicyclists who eat a lot of meat on purpose before every race just to get on the nerves of their rival faction. And that's just the tip of the iceberg, people. You all probably knew about this already because I'm an old man. I hardly know about anything unsanctioned anymore. I thought my brother in Hollywood could make a TV show out of it but he hasn't called back. Oh yeah, and they drink a lot. Sometimes that's part of the race. They ride "fixed gear" bicycles, whatever that means. For a long time I thought the guy was saying "fifth year" bicycles. But he wasn't. That's how old and deaf I am. And the thought of the drunken, meat-swollen unsanctioned bicycle races alarmed me and roused my aged curiosity in that seedy, vicarious way we elderly folk have about us. For more about unsanctioned bicycle races, visit your local library.

"Do You Know What I Mean?"

I have noticed that I say "Do you know what I mean?" about ten billion times per day. If anyone hears me saying this, please alert me to the fact so that I will shut my meaning hole. Yes, sometimes maybe I am really wondering if the other person knows what I mean. But usually I am just saying it for no reason and I can't stop. Let's all pitch in to help!

Phil Gets Drunk

After my lunch with Robert Osborne, I dropped by to see good old Phil Oppenheim, who works nearby. Phil and I were surprised to discover that completely coincidentally we had read PLAY IT AS IT LAYS at the same time. Then Phil told me about a "cocktail convention" he had attended in New Orleans. One of the speakers was a friend of Phil's who has written a book about tiki bars. When I find out the name of the book, I will "post" the information for you. Phil began the evening with several sazeracs at the Carousel Bar. Next, at the convention, he had some tiki cocktails that went along with his friend's presentation. Phil recalls consuming, in that supportive capacity, a Planter's Punch, a Mai Tai, a Nui Nui (also known as a "Desert Rattler," which animal is, of course, a predominant image in PLAY IT AS IT LAYS), and - or so he vaguely recalls - something called, perhaps, "The Virgin's Surrender." Then he was mistaken for a bar owner by a British gentleman whose one goal in life is restoring absinthe to its proper place in American culture. He bade Phil have some "French absinthe" (Phil had two, and called them "wonderful and cloudy") and then some "Czech absinthe," which Phil says was "electric blue," but the color of which the English absinthe salesman referred to only as "postmodern." Then it was time for a "wretched after party" with a lot of beer. At 4 AM Phil found himself in a place called (I think) Molly's on Market, nursing an alcoholic frozen coffee and verbally sparring with an unknown woman who was flipping through a book of Renaissance paintings. Oh yes, and there were some Pimm's Cups in there somewhere. But this is not an accurate picture of the real Phil. We all need to blow off some steam some time! Even Phil!

Last Ice Cream

Last time to go to Pura Vida, the tapas place across the street. We will miss you after our move, Pura Vida! What was tonight's homemade ice cream, you ask? How about corn and hot peppers, with a caramelized corn topping? Oh yeah? And what about vanilla with foie gras sauce? That's what I said. Dig it.

The Famous Lunch

Well, I had lunch with Robert Osborne today, thanks to my friend Shana (pictured), who is in his posse. As you know, Mr. Osborne is the genial host of the most-watched channel in the Pendarvis Building, Turner Classic Movies. We like to call it TCM for short, it's a thing we have. Mr. Osborne and I discussed Dick Powell, and Mr. Osborne talked a little bit about the pros and cons of the Cinerama process. Many other subjects came up - the great film editor Thelma Schoonmaker, for example. Some topics, like apartment living vs. homeownership, were not even movie-related. All along, Mr. Osborne was a fascinating conversationalist and a true gentleman. He reacted with amusement when I told him how my publisher wanted me to have a "blog" to get "hep" with the "kids of today" and yet I only write about things like the early talkie UNION DEPOT. Shana told us about one of her favorite French short films and Mr. Osborne talked about one of his. It was the nicest going away present ever... thanks, Shana! At one point as Mr. Osborne (who was sitting across from me) talked, I swear that I felt everything blurring out around the edges and went into kind of a daze, because it was like watching TCM but not... sort of an out-of-the-TV experience. I was momentarily disoriented! But I was made to feel 10,000 times more comfortable than when I accidentally sort of had breakfast with Christopher Hitchens. With whom shall I have supper? Stay tuned!

Friend's Daughter Enjoys Harry Potter

McNeil has dispatched several updates about his daughter's marathon reading of all the Potter books (rereading the first six in preparation for reading the seventh for the first time). On Saturday, July 21, McNeil reported, "As of 6:35 EST ______ was on page 274 of book 4. Empty ginger ale bottles and Zebra Cake wrappers littered the floor of her bedroom. Said _______: 'I hope to have a good chunk of book 5 read before I have to sleep. Of course I'll have to take dinner in my room.' She looked weary and tense, and as if she were in the midst of some bittersweet parting. I let her be. More updates as the situation warrants." At 7:55 that same evening, we received another bulletin: "Book 4, page 414." Today, this: "_______ has read over 3200 pages since 10am Saturday. Not healthy! I couldn't even muster that much energy in grad school for ol' Shaky. She's on page 170 of Book 7." Note: After a brief brainstorming session in the Pendarvis Building think tank, we have concluded that "Ol' Shaky" is McNeil's special name for Shakespeare. The roundtable declared it "very cute." More reports to come.

The Cable

The cable is back, in case you were worried! Theresa and I came in forty minutes late to JACK THE GIANT KILLER, starring Kerwin Mathews, whose passing we have so recently lamented. The scene we happened upon took place on a sailing vessel, as some sailors were menaced by glowing entities. One of them seemed to be a duck or lizard that could blow powerful wind out of its mouth/beak. Another was some kind of skeleton bride, I believe. In the next scene we met the main villain, whose demeanor, henchmen, and lair MUST have inspired Terry Gilliam when he came up with the Evil Genius for TIME BANDITS. The similarities are too numerous to be coincidental, according to the calculations of the Pendarvis Building computer bank. And later we got a Viking, a leprechaun, and a chimpanzee in a black bikini bottom - nor were these the totality of the exciting characters to be encountered. Meanwhile, on the next channel down, they were showing KEEPING THE FAITH, a mild, possibly neutered romantic comedy starring Ed Norton and Ben Stiller, two very likable young performers, and I couldn't help but marvel at how the tacky visions of misguided crackpots are always preferable to the tasteful displays of respectable executives. Okay, bye!

Lasts

Last walk to the bank. Last Atlanta haircut. No one cares, Pendarvis! But WHY did I get my hair cut? Because I'm having lunch with Robert Osborne on Monday, that's why, under the auspices of my special "myspace" friend Shana. I take back all the hateful things I've ever said about "myspace." Meanwhile on Monday, Theresa will be taking the cats to the vet for a last check-up and some sedatives for the trip. It hardly seems a fair division of duties! Speaking of my physical and moral slovenliness, on the way back home from the haircut I bought six books at a yard sale. You're moving, dummy! But they were fifty cents apiece, okay? Hey, who else is depressed that there are no "cent" signs on these newfangledy keyboards these kids have these days? PS: The marinated chicken subs are back. I just ordered my very last one. It's on its way right now. Lasts! Who cares?

Gambler's Leg

I caught the tail end of a commercial for leg medicine and I thought I heard the reassuring announcer say that one of the potential side effects was "an increase in your gambling urges." So I looked it up on the "internet" and I am not crazy, as you can see by "clicking" on this "link." I called to warn McNeil. As regular readers of the "blog" will recall, he has gambling urges already. During the course of our discussion of medical side effects, I found out why McNeil can only drink diet ginger ale. A medicine he is taking has changed his taste buds! Coca Cola, which he formerly enjoyed, tastes to him now like "charcoal with cellophane melted on it," in McNeil's words. Nor can he eat his former favorite cheeses. Finally McNeil promised to email later, with news of an Air France commercial that disturbs him in some way. Well, the leg medicine commercial is not as entertaining as the Tater Mitts commercial we previously examined. What do you want from me? They can't all be gems.

Tree

Starting to ponder what I'll miss when we leave Atlanta. Right now I'm pondering a particular tree. But I don't want to be one of those guys who writes about which trees he'll miss.

McNeil's Movie Korner: The Trouble With The Trouble With Angels

Welcome once again to McNeil's Movie Korner. McNeil sends in an unusually lengthy anecdote today, which we reprint here in its entirety: "Yesterday," writes McNeil, "I bought a pack of 100 blank Memorex DVDs for $22.00. Amazing. I tried burning The Trouble with Angels last night, but for some reason, 0 out of the 3 DVD players in my home would read it. I thought I made a mistake by buying the Memorex again. I had sworn off them when they had let me down once before, opting instead for Verbatim and Sony brands only." (This is the kind of "tip" you can only get at the "blog," folks! - ed.) McNeil continues: "But it was too good a deal to pass up, and so I talked myself into it. So this morning on the way out to the playground I burned Rashomon on one of the Memorex's (?) and it worked, so I don't know what was wrong with '...Angels.' Maybe it just doesn't like Hayley Mills. She's not in Rashomon is she? That would be funny if she were. Real funny. We had to leave the playground at 10:30, by the way, along with everyone else...it suddenly became way too hot for everybody, even though there is a giant tarp covering a large area of the playing surface, as if one were performing under the big top. I had hoped to leave there and go to the mall to buy some stuff to decorate [McNeil's daughter's] room for the big Harry Potter weekend, but we got inside and it just felt too good to go back out, so...we didn't. I guess I'll go out tomorrow and get her a poster and some snacks, fill a cooler full of drinks and put them all in her room. She has vowed to read all of the previous six HP novels before reading the new, 7th novel coming out tomorrow night at midnight. And she has vowed not to come out of her room all weekend except to use the bathroom or to come downstairs to put something frozen in the microwave." Here ends the transmission. It ventured a little off McNeil's movie beat, but we believe it is a fascinating peek into the life of McNeil the man.

Checking for Wondrous

We just did a quality control check for "wondrous" and are proud to report that it has not appeared on the "blog" until now.