A Short Hop From Frankenstein

It was a short hop from FRANKENSTEIN to THE MONSTERS OF TEMPLETON by Lauren Groff, the new selection in our super exclusive underground book club of private specialness. Maybe we'll ONLY read books with monsters in them. I don't know why I'm telling you this because no matter how much you beg you CAN'T BE IN OUR BOOK CLUB!

Emily!

Speaking of Emily Bronte. Via Blair Hobbs.

Sizzling Celebrity Gossip

Welcome back to the "blog," where you like to go for all your sizzling celebrity gossip. ITEM! What hot "power couple" was seen dining with Roy Blount Jr. - and being introduced to the character portrayed by John Goodman - on tonight's episode of TREME? Sources tell the "blog" it was none other than Tom Franklin and Beth Ann Fennelly, in a brilliant episode written by Lolis Elie, who was spotted recently participating in a certain double-header of panels, where this reporter observed Mr. Elie hobnobbing with people who enjoy going to panels. As you know, the "blog" is now illustrated randomly. I am sad to say we have no sizzling gossip about Frankenberry.

The Unconquerable Cheeto

"A pigeon cannot eat a Cheeto, no matter how hard he tries," reports Laura Lippman via her facebook page. "I watched two of them peck and peck and peck and they could not conquer this Cheeto. They finally gave up." Little could she know how directly this ties into concerns of the "blog": to be specific, the strange Cheetos commercial involving pigeons, which bothers us so very much. Hey, hey, look, I don't want to get anybody down. That's not my bag! I realize that I complain about commercials too much, which is not in keeping with the upbeat spirit of the "blog." So before I go on, let me remind you about the many commercials I love: 1) the one where the dog is worried about his bone. 2) the radio ad for the hardware store. 3) the money clip. 4) space sticks. And I know there have been others, but I'm tired. Now that I am in a complaining mood, the most irresistible of all moods, I beg your indulgence. Let me just mention one last commercial - really a series of commercials - that is driving me crazy. It's for Netflix, and it features what I suppose is a parody of a 1950s sitcom family - take that, artifact from half a century ago! - played by actors with zombie-like affectations that I assume are supposed to be terribly subversive. The dad, for example, is a Patrick Fischler wannabe to whom I feel like shouting through the TV screen, "You, sir, are no Patrick Fischler!" The tone of the commercial seems to be informed by a block of cartoons and skit programs on basic cable that are targeted toward reinforcing the prematurely jaded sensibilities of privileged white male children 18-24, saturating it with a kind of double reverse repressive desublimation that really turns me blue, like that billboard for oatmeal that drives Phil crazy. They (the ersatz sitcom family), stiff and wide-eyed, use a lot of 80s slang with implied quotation marks around it, ALMOST causing me some remorse for all my own cute quotation marks - ALMOST. There! Now I feel better. Let's get back to being happy again.

Of Course She Does

You know how we're always talking about those bicycles with the great big wheel in front and the tiny little wheel in back? It turns out Verdell OWNS one! Of course she does. Except the great big wheel is tinier than usual and the tiny wheel is really, really tiny. Look! Here she is riding it around like it's no big deal in a fancy white dress and hat.

Dong Ding Ding Ding Ding

There's a commercial for the iPhone with a strummy little guitar pleasantly strumming and then a nice glockenspiel tinkles merrily thusly: Dong ding ding ding ding dong ding ding ding ding, and it's just so very coy and lovely and I'm sure it's a great song but all I have ever heard is the foreshortened part for the iPhone commercial that goes dong ding ding ding ding dong ding ding ding ding over and over and it is starting to make me hurt inside, not emotionally, not like it's so beautiful or something, no, just pain, just pain inside, like I'm going mad, mad I tell you, mad inside.

Hats

"Beckett truly understands hats," says Charles Willeford. I guess it shouldn't be such a nice surprise to find tough old hardboiled bird and pulp genius Charles Willeford thinking about Samuel Beckett. In fact, he once gave an entire lecture on the subject of hats in the works of Beckett. Here's the whole sentence abbreviated above: "Beckett truly understands hats, as well as he does pencil stubs, canes, crutches, bikes, and other neat objects that a man can use in self-defense." But the chapter isn't about Beckett. It's about hats. "There is a good deal to know about hats, and nobody knows all there is to know about them. The important thing is to come to terms with hats in general, and then, if you are still up to it, you can examine your relationship, in depth, with one specific hat." It's from I WAS LOOKING FOR A STREET, a reminiscence of Willeford's childhood "as an orphan... from [as the back of the book puts it] railroad yards to hobo tent cities, to soup kitchens and deserts around Los Angeles and across the United States." There are a noticeable number of typos in the book - maybe they skimped on editing for this brand new reprint - but who cares? The Beckett stuff is a flash forward - Willeford the old man is looking at the hats in his closet reflectively - trying to work up to a long-suppressed memory of a cowboy hat of his youth: "At one time, both in conversation and in writing, to avoid certain painful subjects, I would invoke the word 'inchoate.' But 'inchoate' is a copout word. Nothing is inchoate."

Today In Mom News

The first thing is actually serious: that terrible oil spill. Mom says the word around town is that it's still a few days away from Bayou La Batre. I will keep you posted if I hear anything about ways to help with the cleanup. Friend of the "blog" Michelle Richmond has been "blogging" about the oil spill, and its impact on the Alabama Gulf Coast, for the San Francisco Chronicle, so you should keep up with that. Now for the lighter side of Mom news. Mom saw herself on ENTERTAINMENT TONIGHT! That's how she found out about the videotape of Larry King and his wife and Larry King's wife "lover" in which Mom is standing in the background looking presciently cross about the whole deal. Mom is quite put out with whomever sold that videotape, because he or she was invited to Larry King's kid's birthday party, and Mom considers it a cruel breach of etiquette (and she is right) to "betray a child" (as she put it) in that way. Mom says she snapped one photo at the birthday party, taking care that Larry King and his wife were far in the distance (though in the frame), and she felt exploitative even doing that. Mother's Day is coming up, isn't it? So I will skip the "random picture rule" and find some sort of appropriately Mom-ish illustration.

McNeil: Not of Woman Born?

Ha ha! That's a Shakespeare reference because McNeil likes Shakespeare and also I am classy. But this is a serious matter, so let's get serious. McNeil sent his DNA to the National Geographic people, who will trace your DNA for you. Here is what he received in response: "Your sample failed to yield results for the initial analysis. You do not need to take any action at this time... Please note that there will be an additional ten-day delay in delivering your results." For McNeil, there can be but one conclusion: his ancestors are aliens from outer space! "No Action?" he writes. "They really mean, 'Don't leave the country, Men in Black are coming for you.' My vial's run dry, baby. They just want me to wait around 10 days so they can round me up! No way man!"

I Figured Out a TV Show

I have figured out LOST, just so you know! The secret contents of my prophecy have been sent to Kent, Dr. "M.," and Dan Brown (no, not that Dan Brown, but it almost seems appropriate), and will be unsealed at the proper time, revealing me to be the smartest man who ever lived.

Glands of Destiny

"But where were the glands of its destiny and the adrenalines of its parched, green entrails?" asks Clarice Lispector about a grasshopper. And I was like, "Beats me!" I said this book was kind of like her "blog," but I don't know. "What could love be like between two grasshoppers? Green and green, and then the same green, which, suddenly, because of a vibration of greens, turns green." Well, before that, before the glands of destiny and everything, she's all, "Hey, I saw a real neat grasshopper today!" I'm paraphrasing. But there is this, verbatim: "It is three o'clock in the morning. I am having one of my bouts of insomnia. I made myself some coffee since sleep seemed unlikely. I put in too much sugar and the coffee tasted horrid." Okay? And on the page after that, "How does an untidy person become tidy?" So. But then: "The egg is the chicken's soul. The awkward chicken. The stable egg. The startled chicken. The placid egg." And tantalizingly, "I have also written at some length about monkeys." On the very next page: "It would never occur to me to keep an owl." The chicken section is honestly beautiful and my poor excerpt doesn't do it justice. Now I am thinking of that awesome Sam Shepard book DAY OUT OF DAYS, which was sort of like HIS "blog," if "blogs" were mainly about severed heads crying out to passers-by from sodden ditches. And aren't they? (Photo by Judge.)

The Swimming Champion

You know that guy who's a swimming champion? You know that guy. I saw him in a commercial for sandwiches. Referring to a special deal on the sandwiches, he said, "This is going to make a splash." He sounded joyless! Doomed! His heart wasn't in it.

Nestlings!

The baby crows outside Verdell's office window - "nestlings" Verdell accurately and charmingly calls them - are growing up. "Click" here to see!

Okay, So

Okay, so I've already gone back and bought the Lispector.

Put It Back

Today I was mooning around Square Books, which is something I do just about every day. I don't usually put books back - except for that one manifesto that one time - but today I put back two books! First I picked up a book about mules. I believe it was called THE BOOK OF MULES. I carried it around for a long time, thinking about how much I need a book about mules. But then I put it back. After that, I found SELECTED CRONICAS (I think!) by the fascinating Brazilian writer Clarice Lispector (pictured). I leafed through it and started to think, "Hey, this is like Clarice Lispector's 'blog," except 'blogs' didn't exist!" You know, stuff like, "I saw an interesting bug today!" except put differently. And part of me really wanted it because of that and another part of me really didn't want it because of that, and for today the not-wanting part of me won, but I have a feeling this battle isn't over yet. I was happy to notice during my ramble through the shelves that nyrb has put out NIGHTMARE ALLEY in its own individual paperback. I didn't buy that either because I already have it in that big, fat, expensive (and lovely) Library of America edition with some other stuff, but everyone else should take this opportunity to snatch up NIGHTMARE ALLEY in its newly handy and portable form. NIGHTMARE ALLEY is the greatest!

Look At This Picture

Look at this picture "Blog" Deputy Rhea sent me. "Uni-corn holders," she says they are called. That's right, corn holders in the shape of unicorns. "Oh man! You could stick these in so many foods," Rhea shouts to the heavens. As long as we are adding new pictures to the "blog," here are Rhea and I at my recent "panel" in New Orleans. Don't tell anybody, but that's absinthe!

Great Big Wheel In Front

It has been far too long since we have discussed that kind of bicycle with the great big wheel in front and the tiny little wheel in back, for which we know the proper name is a "penny-farthing," thanks to Phil Oppenheim. All the more reason, then, to be grateful for this report from our Atlanta correspondent the NBIL: "A man riding a pennyfarthing down Moreland Avenue. He was wearing a black suit with a bowler hat." Yes, I know I am terrible about keeping my promise to illustrate this "blog" only with random pictures having nothing to do with the subject at hand, but I believe all my penny-farthing pictures come from my ignorant old "stealing bandwidth" days, and I would like to rectify that right here and now. Also, there is this from an old "post": "The Home Page of Penny-Farthing Riders!" (Exclamation point theirs.)

Their Various States of Peril

Last night I stayed up late because I had to finish John Brandon's upcoming novel CITRUS COUNTY. And when I say I had to finish, I mean I was compelled! Gripped! Creeped out! I was nervous about what might happen to the various characters in their various states of peril! John Brandon is a wonderful writer in a literary way but not MERELY. I mean, there's real suspense. Sometimes writers get all beautiful on you and forget to remind you to turn the pages. Not John Brandon! He does it all. He can be concerned with language and craft while ratcheting up the thrills with the other hand. Plus he can be funny at the same time - that kind of fiendish humor they never tell you is in WUTHERING HEIGHTS. (This is a real thing: now the government requires "bloggers" to say whether they received the books they "promote" for free, and John Brandon, who is a friend, did give me the book, plus I work for his publisher - McSweeney's - in the form of my monthly BELIEVER column and other occasional doodads. But you know me! I wouldn't even mention the book if I didn't love it.) Finally, near the end, there's an owl in the book, once again proving my hardy thesis that owls constitute a basic component of good literature. Somehow this randomly selected illustration seems appropriate.

Proof of Shim Sham

Look, somebody took a picture of me doing the shim sham in the parking lot of the shim sham place.

Terry Teachout!

Remember how Li'l Flannery O'Connor taught her chicken to walk backwards? It is one of the things that Megan Abbott talked about when I interviewed her! And now, thanks to the twitter account of Maud Newton, I have found video evidence. I notice that the source, Maud's friend Terry Teachout, also mentions THE STAR MACHINE by Jeanine Basinger, which was my Bible for a time. In the selection chosen by Mr. Teachout, Ms. Basinger remarks upon the similarities between Cary Grant and Porky Pig. I believe Mr. Teachout wrote the introduction to one or both of the Elaine Dundy novels I have "taught." He wrote a biography of Louis Armstrong too! I guess Terry Teachout is my new favorite person now that I think about it.

All-Star Entertainment Wrap-Up

Time once again for All-Star Entertainment Wrap-Up, your one place on the "internet" for all the latest in celebrity entertainment news. ITEM! I actually remembered, without having to look it up, the name of the actor who played the wisecracking reporter on LOU GRANT: Robert Walden. Why didn't I include it in the previous "post"? Is there some level of knowledge about TV shows that only dead people remember to which not even I wish to confess? ITEM! According to the New York Times, last night's Family Guy cartoon program "paid tribute" to the Jerry Lewis film THE ERRAND BOY. Why am I telling you this? I don't exactly know! It wasn't even the actual New York Times; it was just one of their "blogs." I have never seen a whole episode of the Family Guy, which is why I feel awkward reporting this information. But any resurgence of Jerry is worth a mention! And people enjoy the Family Guy. I know several people who claim to enjoy it a lot! And I cannot (publicly) say they are wrong. ITEM! This picture of Barbara Feldon is not a random picture, although that is how the "blog" is generally illustrated now. When I was "linking" to Sam Waterston in the previous "post" (see the second "link" above), I discovered that I had captured it via "stolen bandwidth," back before I knew what "stolen bandwidth" was, or that stealing it was wrong (I still don't really understand anything about it, but I don't steal it anymore!). So I replaced the old "stolen" picture of Barbara Feldon with this one, which is not stolen, at least not in the same way. Which reminds me, beware! I suppose hidden here and there on the "blog," without my knowledge, might be some naughty pictures placed there surreptitiously by people from whom I innocently and ignorantly stole bandwidth at one time. It is a punishment they enact! Usually the naughty picture will have "STOP STEALING BANDWIDTH" printed on it. One day I will make everything right. Gosh, I guess I owe Robert Walden a picture too. I am sorry I pretended to forget you, Robert Walden! I never did!

Psychic Smoothie

I woke up at 2:30 this morning and couldn't go back to sleep so I got up and turned on the TV. Can you guess what I saw? No, not the Ninja Blender, but that was a good guess! I saw an infomercial for another blender, the one endorsed by Montel Williams and first brought to our attention by the NBIL. A woman said, "A regular blender can't chop through lettuce and apples!" A man said, "I could put a brick in here!" But he didn't. That would have been neat. Then the announcer said something like, "Coming up, Sylvia Browne makes psychic predictions and reveals her favorite smoothie!" And I was like, "Huh. That name is familiar to me." I think Sylvia Browne had a bunch of books on that list over at the behemoth, the one on which a customer placed my book YOUR BODY IS CHANGING as one of her favorite works about "spirituality and health." The one thing behemoths are known for is razor-sharp accuracy! Then I changed the channel and watched a great deal of CAPRICORN ONE. An astronaut on the run! From shadowy forces! He hides in a cave and eats a snake! Elliott Gould portrays a wisecracking reporter who just stumbled on the biggest story of his life! Karen Black is another wisecracking reporter. A guy who played a wisecracking reporter on the TV show LOU GRANT does not play a wisecracking reporter. He plays a low-level NASA employee who gets in over his head! Sam Waterston is another astronaut - a wisecracking one! He even makes wisecracks in the face of deadly danger. Also starring O.J. Simpson. When I was 15, I considered CAPRICORN ONE the highest of all artistic achievements.

A Good Interview Is Hard to Find

I interview Megan Abbott in the current issue of the Yalobusha Review, the literary magazine of the University of Mississippi, but it's harder to find than my $2,499.99 novel. I didn't see any copies at Off Square Books (where fine literary magazines are sold), and the Yalobusha "web" site apparently has been lying dormant for two years. The editor tells me that there will be news soon about some kind of launch for the issue, so I'll keep you posted. The issue is beautiful and the interview was fun! In it, Megan and I talk about Bob Hope and Doris Day a lot, and I know you kids are really into that.

What This Is

This is some more proof of ongoing repressive desublimation but I don't have time to explain.

Changing of the Seasons

Tonight is the night I take my unicorn off of my severe corduroy number and pin it on the seersucker.

Larry King and UFOs

Finally! Larry King and UFOs. Two great tastes that go great together!

Entertainment

Maybe everybody knows about this. I came across the program ENTERTAINMENT TONIGHT the other day. No disrespect at all, but I don't believe I have thought of it in decades. Anyway, what I saw was an M&M interviewing a person. I am not kidding. Part of the show was an M&M candy (plain, not peanut) interviewing a person. I can hardly express how I felt. The interview was presented naturally and without fanfare or explanation, leading me to believe that this is now a normal thing in the world of ENTERTAINMENT TONIGHT, or maybe just a normal thing in the world, that an anthropomorphic candy interviews celebrities and nobody cares. I don't understand anything anymore. I know I am terrible about sticking to my random picture rule, but I feel the need to do a "Google Image Search" so I can prove to you and myself that there is a piece of candy regularly interviewing people on TV and nobody thinks anything of it and we all just pretend that everything is okay. (Sadly, this is the best I could do. It is a peanut, not a plain. I guess everyone is in on the deal. I'd hate to tell you how long I looked. For example, I found out that an anthropomorphic M&M has a twitter account. I told you it was the Year of Repressive Desublimation and you didn't believe me.)

Huh?

Informant J2 has been digging, and reveals that Big T Products is also hilariously trying to sell a copy of my previous novel for $2,499.99. Good luck!

More About the Crazy Person

"Blog" Intern Brian Z. notes that the same crazy person who is trying to sell a galley of my elusive novel SHUT UP, UGLY for $2,499.99 is also selling this TWILIGHT calendar (pictured) for $2,499.99. This is FOR REAL! It's like a dollar store in reverse. Big T Products (the store) is hosted by the behemoth, to whom I usually do not care to "link," because it makes me feel dirty. But here is a "link" (click advisedly) in case you would like to check out the inexplicable madness for yourself. I notice the "Studs and Spurs" wall calendar also goes for a cool $2,499.99, whereas (as Brian Z. points out) a Sibley's birder's calendar is just $2.99.

Media Report

Time for another timely "Media Report." Today we examine interviews via the media of satellite television and the New York Times. ITEM! Last night Gwyneth Paltrow was being interviewed by David Letterman and I decided to go get a glass of water, so I paused the TV. Why? Did I think I was going to miss something important? It does not seem likely. I realize that the satellite has corrupted me in some essential way. ITEM! The New York Times interviews Insane Clown Posse. Here are my favorite lines from the interview, in order of appearance: 1) "Come on, man. The North and South Pole makes a rock magnetic, and if you touch a piece of metal with it, that becomes magnetic? That’s crazy." 2) "I grew up in Detroit. We don’t have pelicans on every corner. We don’t have giraffes walking down the street." 3) "Two clowns floating around in space, swearing, rapping about wonderful things. I get that that’s funny to an outsider." I like seeing those words put together that way. I realize that a million other people on the "internet" will refer to the same interview but I can't help it.

This Is True!

"Bloggy" the "Blog" Mascot (pictured) sent some news I couldn't believe, but IT'S TRUE! Remember those people who were trying to sell my semi-non-existent book SHUT UP, UGLY for $413.16? NOW THEY ARE TRYING TO SELL IT FOR $2,499.99! Is this even legal? Either way, I want a piece of the sweet, sweet action. Because you know everybody wants the book that nobody wants. Like the promo for the Ninja Blender, this information could change. I'll keep an eye on it for you and let you know what's happening. Shipping and handling will still run you $3.99, which seems a little grabby under the circumstances.

Scent of a Langford

Jon Langford was in the air last night! First my neighbor (the mandolinist David Lonesome, who was providing the entertainment prior to my reading) mentioned him. I did not think of the next fact until this morning, when I "linked" to it in the previous "post," but Langford also did the artwork on the t-shirt I was wearing last night. More coincidences abound! I happened to have an extra copy of McSweeney's #34 (for details on that publication, "click" on the very first "link" in this "post"), so I decided to give it away in a contest last night. The trivia question was, "What was the name of the family cat in the novel PET SEMATARY by Stephen King?" (I should mention: the organizers of the event said I could read from whatever I wanted, so I read a lengthy passage from PET SEMATARY by Stephen King.) Someone shouted out the correct answer, which is "Church." The winner was none other than the Man Who Says "Palimpsest"! Is there anything he doesn't know? The Langford connection is that Langford's self-portrait appears in that issue. Later, the Man Who Says "Palimpsest" brought up Langford's band the Mekons. I cannot recall if this happened before or after that mention, but a friend of the "blog" who wishes to remain nameless revealed a tattoo of a rodeo rider based on Langford's design for the Sin Records label. So, much Langford. So much Langford. Langford was all around us. Here is another coincidence, unrelated. When, in the previous "post," I was searching for a "link" demonstrating some of my shim sham moves, I happened to find a clip of old-time Hollywood dance sensation Eleanor Powell, who is Dr. "M.'s" lookalike. Remarkable, because the "post" concerned itself a good deal with the subject of lookalikes. Speaking of which, my implications about Jack Black were needlessly critical. I have been looking at some pictures of him and he strikes me as a nice looking man, clearly much better looking than me. When I called him "a step up from Michael Moore," (among people like whom I have been told I look) I should have said "several thousand steps up from Michael Moore." I suppose I should also mention that students in not one but two of my classes have remarked upon my supposed similarity, in both appearance and mannerisms, to the comedian Patton Oswalt. If only a computer expert could meld together the visages of Patton Oswalt, Michael Moore, Jack Black, and Guillermo del Toro (and Max von Sydow????). Then I might find out what I truly look like. For some reason, I am reminded of a passage from the book I am reading for my special book club you can't be in: "A flash of lightning illuminated the object, and discovered its shape plainly to me; its gigantic stature, and the deformity of its aspect, more hideous than belongs to humanity, instantly informed me that it was the wretch, the filthy daemon to whom I had given life." PS: I found the above Mekons album cover whilst searching for Langford's Sin Records logo. Given the "blog's" love of monkeys, I could not resist adding it to my exploding computer.

Thank You, No Thank You

I would like to thank everyone for coming out to the reading last night. It was fun! Music was provided by my neighbor who loaned me that book that time. But I would also like to NOT THANK ANYONE for something else! Because none of you showed up for the Community Shim Sham Dance Class prior to the reading! I, being a man of my word, did. The instructor was very patient with me. I realize that the "ball change" is an elemental step, yet somehow it kept getting away from me. Nor was I a master of the "Suzy Q." As the instructor chanted "Suzy Q, Suzy Q, Suzy Q, Suzy Q," everyone Suzy Q'd across the stage with apparent ease, except me, and I really do blame my shoes. I was asked if I had brought tap shoes. I had not! "Do you have some less rubbery shoes?" the instructor asked. I had no other shoes! But as I say, she was patient, and allowed me to participate anyway. I proved slightly more adept at the "flap" and the "shuffle." Once the instructor asked if she could grab my hipbones, and I said "Sure!" Theresa showed up about thirty minutes into the lesson, thinking she would lounge around in comfort and mock me, but she soon learned otherwise! "If you want to stay here, you have to dance," the instructor told her. Ha! So Theresa danced. She also kindly ducked out to fetch a fresh shirt for me as the time for the reading drew near and I realized that doing the shim sham was the most strenuous labor I had performed in a very long while, my garments having become rather imbued with the musky fruits of said labor. I requested my Rudy and GoGo t-shirt (this one), which reminds me: later I was telling this story to an audience member, the part about Theresa getting me a fresh shirt, and the audience member said, "She picked THIS one?" which I took as an insult to my beautiful Rudy and GoGo t-shirt! And THAT reminds me: the instructor was trying to remember everyone's name, and one of the other students said, "Jack will be easy to remember." And the instructor said, "Oh, of course, because he has that Jack Black thing." To which I responded "!" I must say, it is a step up from Michael Moore, to whom I was once likened by a woman handing out samples in a grocery store and I wasn't even EATING the samples! "No, I meant because he's the only man," the kind student replied. Anyway, we all know I really look like Guillermo del Toro. Will I go back for more shim sham next week? I kept saying I would! And I believe I amassed a mighty army of shim sham followers through my repeated exhortations, both during my reading and afterward. But by that time I had consumed some fried chicken and wine, which were the refreshments generously provided at the event, and it may have been the fried chicken talking.

The Song Is Called Stanga

Here is a great song by "Little Sister," a band featuring Sly Stone's little sister! The song is called "Stanga" and I like to pretend it is about Arnold Stang.

Watch Out for Hatchlings

"Click" here at once to see the nest of crows just outside the window of Verdell's office. A mother crow is feeding her babies, or "hatchlings," to use Verdell's elegant and accurate word. It's all very cute, but watch out, Verdell! As you know, I have been unflagging in my reportage on the secret plans of crows. I can only assume that the crows are trying to get close to the "Blog" Buddies for some nefarious purpose. They want somebody on the "inside." As I learned from a book flap I once skimmed, "Crows become our guides, leading us off the pavement and into the realms of myth, history, and science, and opening our eyes to the deeply relevant question of our own place in the urban-wild landscape." Yes, sure, that's just what the crows want you to think!

"Blog" Mail "Bag"

A "blog" reader contacted me today to say that he had dreamed about me (!), and in this fellow's dream I was "furiously stabbing a copy of 'The Sound and the Fury.'" (!!) Another email, this one from Jon Host, with whom I was in a band in the glorious 1980s (and early 90s!), reports that whilst listening to his iPod, he heard some Paul McCartney lyrics that suggested how well Sir Paul would have fit into our band, lyrically speaking: "But I find it very, very, very, very, very, very hard/ Oh I find it very, very, very, very, very, very hard/ Yes I find it very, very, very, very, very, very hard."

Terrible Times!

My sister sent me this... I don't know what Radar Online is, nor can I endorse it in any manner, plus I feel bad that they seem to be exploiting the sadness of the Larry King family, but what can I do? I am powerless to stop it! Because, in a very weird coincidence, MY MOM and MY NEPHEW OZZY are IN THIS VIDEO, which Radar Online (whatever that is) labels "WORLD EXCLUSIVE: First Video of Larry King & Wife With Her Lover." I do not approve, although I give them kudos for the ampersand. I am sorry for forcing you to click onto what may be a tawdry site of gossip. My mom is the woman in the white shirt early on, standing in the background with her arms folded as if to say, "What terrible times we live in!"

Literary Matters

I am sorry to tell you that it is time once again for the dreaded and despised "Literary Matters." There are just two. You can do it! 1) I just finished reading WUTHERING HEIGHTS and wrote a little bit about it for therumpus.net. Incidentally, McNeil's review of WUTHERING HEIGHTS goes like this: "Remember when he left his kid out overnight in the rain? Hilarious!" 2) My friend Bess and I have a book club. We're going to read FRANKENSTEIN by Mary Shelley. And no, YOU CAN'T BE IN OUR SPECIAL BOOK CLUB!

This Is Happening

They made a poster and everything, so there is no going back now! I would like to give proper photo credit to Sonia Weinberg Thompson. I am going to get there an hour and a half early - 5:30 for the "Community Shim Sham Dance Class." I think it would be fun if we ALL took the "Community Shim Sham Dance Class" before the reading.

The Anecdote to Which I Was Referring

I found the anecdote to which I was referring; before, I was looking in the wrong book. It's in WHAT WAS LITERATURE? by Leslie Fiedler, and takes place after Harriet Beecher Stowe "had grown more than a little dotty with advancing age" (to use Fiedler's phrase). "The scene which continues to haunt me," he writes, "is of [Mark Twain] being awakened very early in the morning by the sound of this great demented lady playing the organ and singing hymns in his parlor, into which she had wandered uninvited and unnoticed."

Sick and Disturbing!

Today "Blog" Buddy Laura Lippman is called "sick and disturbing" in the New York Times! Cool! In the same article: objects of "blog" fascination Oliver Platt and Gilmore Girls. Who could ask for more? Speaking of the New York Times, Tom Wolfe recently had an op-ed about Mark Twain in there, and who cares, really? But it put me in mind of another literary anecdote. I guess that's just the kind of guy I am, the kind of guy who sits around thinking of literary anecdotes like some kind of big shot. Anyhow, Wolfe writes about the fact that Twain and Harriet Beecher Stowe were neighbors, and he mentions the delightful Twain biography MR. CLEMENS AND MARK TWAIN by Justin Kaplan, but somehow he doesn't mention the most interesting thing - the fact (I think) that Harriet Beecher Stowe once BROKE INTO MARK TWAIN'S HOUSE in the dead of night and started playing "Onward Christian Soldiers" on the organ in the parlor, scaring everybody to death. Suddenly I am not sure this is true. I was certain the incident was related in the Kaplan book, but I have gone to the index and checked all the Stowe pages and I'm just not seeing it anywhere. Did I dream it up? I did find the part about how Stowe's half-sister Isabella Hooker believed that she had been "elected president of a universal matriarchy" and had a New Year's Eve party (which Twain attended) during which "a sign" indicating as much was supposed to come "from beyond the veil." Hooker hid "a covey of local mediums, spiritualists, and clairvoyants" in an upstairs bedroom. They were supposed to pop out at the appropriate moment, but nothing happened. Here's my favorite Kaplan sentence in that section: "The long-suffering John Hooker, destined by his wife to be secretary of foreign affairs under the new order, was attacked by a muscular lady medium, and they scuffled in the hallway." Also, "The raisins and walnuts were all eaten."

Deal With Him, Hemingway!

I would like to remind everyone that the illustrations on the "blog" are randomly chosen now for the most part, and such was the case with the photograph of James Joyce that popped up yesterday. It didn't occur to me until JUST NOW that there might be some connection inferred between the "Eye-Gougingly" in the title of the "post" and the fact that Joyce is wearing an eye patch in the accompanying portrait. I meant no disrespect! I did not mean to suggest that Joyce had had his eye gouged, nor did I mean to make light of his terrible eyesight and eventual blindness. That's not something that would occur to me nor strike me as funny. Now I am thinking of an anecdote from Richard Ellman's wonderful Joyce biography. This is Hemingway talking: "We would go out to drink and Joyce would fall into a fight. He couldn't even see the man so he'd say: 'Deal with him, Hemingway! Deal with him!'" Also, Joyce's wife Nora would tease him about the relative tameness of his subject matter when Hemingway was around, saying, "Jim could do with a spot of that lion-hunting."

Eye-Gougingly Violent Rosebud Mouth

You know how I enjoy combing through the Arts Section of the New York Times for phrases that tickle me for various intertwined and complicated reasons that I can never quite explain. Today, in the "Arts, Briefly" column (not to be confused with our "Arts, Briefly" column) I saw the phrase "eye-gougingly violent," which I didn't quite expect. In a review of a recital, I came across "Ms. von Stade introduced her songs with self-effacing biographical stories. Her mother told her that as a baby she had a rosebud mouth." And I was like, maybe I need to look up the definition of "self-effacing." Then somebody reviewed a Soupy Sales show (!). In addition to dying recently, Mr. Sales is called "lazy and unprepared." The reviewer nails whatever misgivings I might have about PBS when he quotes (in a properly mocking tone) a talking head on the show who says, "Mark Twain goes out of style, but Soupy won’t." Well, the Soupy stuff got me to thinking about the fact that they haven't mentioned Jerry Lewis in a long while, something they used to do all the time. But THAT got me to thinking about the glass house I live in and how I'm always trying to remove the mote in my brother's eye while ignoring the beam in my own, because it turns out the "blog" hasn't mentioned Jerry AT ALL in April, until now, in its waning days. A record low and unforgivable!

Community Shim Sham

Hi! I am reading at the Powerhouse here in Oxford, MS, on Wednesday evening. I am not sure this has been announced anywhere! I checked the Powerhouse calendar and I'm not on it, but there is a "Community Shim Sham Dance Class" from 5:30-6:30 which is "free and open to the public!" (exclamation point theirs for a change) so I imagine it is after that, though I wish it were during, because it sounds way more fun than a reading. Have you ever BEEN to a reading?

+ $3.99

Oh, and they want $3.99 for shipping.

McNeil, Briefly

McNeil has started wearing a tie ALL THE TIME! Even at home! Just sitting around! This has been another edition of "McNeil, Briefly."

Lunchin' With Larry

Larry King is having lunch with Ryan Seacrest RIGHT NOW!

$413.16

I won't "link" to this because you know how I feel about the behemoth, but an "independent seller" on the behemoth, Big T Products by name, is offering to mail you a copy of my strangely elusive novel SHUT UP, UGLY (in stolen "galley" form, I assume) for a mere $413.16. Let me give you a little inside info: IT'S NOT WORTH IT!

Barbed Probes!

Allow me to quote from that article about crows because I'm pretty sure you didn't click on it and I don't think you're worried enough about the secret plans of the crows: "they whittle branches into hooks and tear leaves into barbed probes to extract food from hard-to-reach nooks... New Caledonian crows are also innovative problem solvers, often rivaling primates. Experiments have shown that the birds can craft new tools out of unfamiliar materials, as well as use a number of tools in succession." Unfamiliar materials! Rivaling primates! Hooks! Barbed probes!

I Repeat: Crows Are Up To Something

I keep trying to tell everybody that crows are up to something! And nobody ever believes me. Now, thanks to a "link" on therumpus.net, I have read this report about CROWS USING TOOLS! Please listen to me about the crows.

Twanged Elliptically

But TV isn't all bad! In fact, it is 99% awesome, I just want to make that clear. For example, did you see "Blog" Buddy Kelly Hogan on the David Letterman program last night? David Letterman even mentioned her name! Mr. Letterman did not mention "Blog" Buddy Jon Rauhouse, who nonetheless got a couple of nice close-ups as he twanged elliptically and inimitably. (This picture, which has nothing to do with anything, is of the panel I shared with John T. Edge in New Orleans. Also pictured, the Oxford American's own Sara Arnold.)

TV Can't Fool Me

And there was this other commercial for a new (?) show starring Lauren Graham of GILMORE GIRLS fame. In the commercial, she is shown talking to her daughter like so, approximately: "I met someone. He's... uh... your teacher." And the daughter appears bemused. This exact same thing happened on GILMORE GIRLS too! In fact, I think the TV was trying to make me think that GILMORE GIRLS is back, that they've just changed the name. They wanted to give me a feeling of warm nostalgia! But it's not back! It's not! God help me, it's not. I resent what TV is trying to do to my trusting heart. (Weirdly, today's randomly chosen illustration is from VERONICA MARS, another lamented TV friend.)

There's This Commercial

There's this commercial that keeps asking me, "Have you ever driven a car with silver dust hand polished into the wood?" And I'm like, "I don't think I've even driven a car with wood in it!" I'm sad all the time. See also.

It's That Time Again

Time for #38. Our 38th Beach Boys cover by a different random stranger on the "internet," that is!

Owls Are Back and Bigger Than Ever

To quote myself, "It is always awesome to include an owl in all your short stories." I was reminded of the great truth of my own words as I read tomorrow's story for my ghost class (You didn't know I teach a ghost class? Well, maybe you don't know everything about me after all!): "The Familiar" by Sheridan Le Fanu. Like all good fiction, it has an owl in it. Do I practice what I preach? You bet I do! The title novella of my book YOUR BODY IS CHANGING has an owl in the first sentence, and I liked it so much that I put owls in some of the other stories in that book, I forget how many, at least two others. Were I to compose a book of advice for aspiring writers, which I never will, the first rule would be: "Writer's block? Why not put an owl in your story? Works like a charm!" After I read "The Familiar," I looked up owls in my various dictionaries of symbols, because that is a fun thing to do. A couple of them mention a belief from ancient China that baby owls peck out their parents' eyes. Shame on them! The DICTIONARY OF SYMBOLISM by Hans Biedermann pinpoints "a fable according to which owls learn to fly only when they have irreverently pecked out the eyes of their parents." Ha ha! Irreverently! Oh, Hans Biedermann. I recall that in her book THE WOMAN WARRIOR, Maxine Hong Kingston claims that her mother once cooked some owls. This brings everything together, because an elaborate banquet featuring owl is alluded to in one of my own aforementioned short stories. Don't worry, I didn't eat an owl in New Orleans. I like them too much! Even I have to draw the line somewhere. Plus they are never on the menu. There is no "owl" entry in THE OXFORD COMPANION TO FOOD. Photo by McNeil.

Blue Lightning

Okay, now back to random illustrations. And here is our final (?) installment about TV marketing sensation "The Ninja Blender." The NBIL, who of course first brought the Ninja Blender to our attention, was excited to see the remarkable device examined on a recent local news segment called, I believe, "Try It and Buy It." He sadly files this report: "The very first thing the TV folks did was load the Ninja full of ice and make some snow. Although the snow looked good, it proved to be pervaded by large chunks of ice! The guacamole that was next on the menu received rave reviews, but ice proved to be a problem once again with smoothies. Here's the kicker: although the blades were forged by ancient Japanese swordsmiths, the rest of the Ninja proved to be made of weaker stuff. On the very first use of the Ninja, bits of the plastic housing actually melted! It must have been the blue lightning. Needless to say, the Ninja received two thumbs down."

Carefully Note the Fleck

Here is some photographic evidence (by Sonia Weinberg Thompson) that Tom Franklin and I indeed shucked oysters at Snackbar on Thursday night, as advertised. Look closely and you will see a telltale fleck of shell on the oyster knife that I am hoisting aloft. In fact, I shucked a full dozen for noted sportswriter Wright Thompson, who was extremely patient with the pace. How out of shape am I? At one point, Wright had to lean across the oyster bar and dab at my brow with a napkin, like the nurses used to do for Hawkeye on M*A*S*H.