One Good "Blog" Deserves Another

Kent Osborne (left) called just now to say that he "blogged" about me today. So, in the spirit of reciprocity, I just thought I would remind everyone about Kent's enticing comic strip. Oh, how we enjoy running back and forth from our phones to our computers, "blogging" and "phoning" about "blogging," and giggling all along with unabashed glee!

Art

Y'all should go by the Dalton Gallery on the campus of Agnes Scott College, anytime between now and Nov. 20. They've put a nice show on the walls there, and were kind enough to ask me to participate. The work of several "Southern" writers has been placed in elegant little folders that you can take down and read. The writing part of the show is also on computers. I was trying to read the Roy Blount, Jr., piece and I did something bad to the computer and I was pretty sure I had broken the art. Then Theresa came over and fixed it. There are CD listening stations, too. I listened to a song by one of my favorite bands, Hubcap City. I'm missing their "gig" at A Cappella Books right now this very "blogging" minute, because I can only do one activity per day. Any more and I get the vapors. There was also some art at the art show! I greatly admired the vibrant paintings of Linda Anderson. The paper on the wall said they were meant to evoke her Southern childhood, but I saw lots of tigers and pandas with worried faces. They were cool! And you should definitely go into the room that contains what I like to call The Awesome Glass Bricks of Mystery. I forgot to check what it's really called, or who did it, but you really have to see it. You'll know what I'm talking about! You'll thank me! Hey, all this talk of art makes me think of a delightful anecdote of the kind that goes on a "blog." I had forcefully recommended the movie WEEKEND by Jean-Luc Godard (pictured) to my friend Mike Mitchell (you can see three of Mike's own movies on this "link"). The next time I called, Mike said he had watched the Godard. "What did you think?" I said. "Too much artsy, not enough fartsy," said Mike. Today's "blogging" tip: It's okay for friends to disagree!

Clog 'n' Blog

Key members of the "blogging" team report taking a pleasant walk with Caroline Young (left) of Cabbagetown, GA, today. In her girlhood, Caroline was part of the Smoke Rise Cloggers, an unorthodox "clogging" team, the adventures of which came up during today's eventful walk. Caroline would "clog," she informs the "blog," with her partner "Pres" to the strains of Donna Summers' disco album LIVE AND MORE. "Clogging" came to Caroline's mind recently, when she ran into "Pres" at her high school reunion. A new neighbor of "Pres," a former "clogger" herself (we'll call her Betty), had sought to humiliate "Pres" not too long ago, by putting pictures of "Pres," as a boy dressed for "clogging," in all his other neighbors' mailboxes. Caroline was a bit bewildered that "Pres" and Betty apparently viewed their "clogging" days with shame. Caroline recalled "clogging" as "a healthy, non-drug-induced high." During the typical performance, Caroline would reportedly do a handstand, after which "Pres" would grab her by the feet and swing her over his shoulders. Mid-air splits were involved as well. The "clogging" coach, we'll call her Madame X, insisted that her "cloggers" be the absolute physical elite of the student body, and stressed the importance of the Presidential Fitness Test. Madame X, who, in Caroline's words, had a "severe Toni Tenille haircut and painted-on eyebrows" stood below and screamed epithets as Caroline clung to the bar, straining to keep her chin above it, thereby to meet the President's rigorous requirements. The Smoke Rise Cloggers caused trouble wherever they went through their heretical "clogging" techniques, such as lifting their legs too high in the air while "clogging." In traditional "clogging" circles, keeping one's "clogging" foot close to the ground is the mark of excellence and decorum in a "clogger." But the Smoke Rise Cloggers cared nothing for such niceties. They just "clogged" their behinds off, and the devil take the rest!

Cracking Up

Two or more years ago, at about three in the morning, I saw the beginning of the Jerry Lewis movie CRACKING UP on one of my many premium cable channels, I don't mean to brag. There was a part when Jerry slipped on some marbles. It was hilarious! Another part showed one of Jerry's ancestors trying to escape from the Bastille (or somewhere. Anyhow, I recall it as a French setting). He made a dummy of himself, much like Clint Eastwood in ESCAPE FROM ALCATRAZ. Through a series of merry mix-ups, it was Jerry's DUMMY who ended up escaping! Well, I fell asleep, through no fault of Jerry's, and missed the rest of the movie (a scene from which illustrates this particular "blog" entry. I am simultaneously terrified and thrilled that I might therefore be sued by Jerry Lewis!). I kept checking the cable listings every day for months, wondering when they would rerun it so I could see the whole thing. It's a rare Jerry movie, which enjoyed only a limited US release. Well, now Jeff McNeil has found a copy on Ebay, and he's kindly mailing it to me as we speak! This is the kind of spirit and camaraderie that can keep "blogging" alive! Mr. McNeil was also the first to respond to my request for cutting-and-pasting material, the lifeblood of any good "blog." He writes: "I watched the opening few seconds of Cracking Up and noticed that the carpet is the same color as the carpet in The Patsy. It could, in fact be the very same carpet, for it looked as if it had 20 years of wear on it..." Rest assured, this intriguing hypothesis will soon be confirmed or denied by the forensics team here at "Blog" Central, and you, my loyal readers, will be the first to learn the result!

"Blogging" in Crisis: Part One of a Projected Thousand-Part Series

There is a shortage of "bloggables." ("Bloggables" is a word I invented - as far as I know; I haven't "Googled" around for it yet - to describe a thing or idea that is worth "blogging" about.) In an effort reminiscent of that great statesman Peter Pan, I must ask everyone within range of my "blogging" to clap their hands together. Clap if you truly believe in "blogging"! Then maybe my "blog" will come back to life and flit about the room, bringing joy and whimsy to all. I mean, last night I was watching TV and thinking THIS? THIS is what I "blog" about for the people? This is not that good! The people deserve better! So I want every one of you to clap your hands and say "I DO believe in 'blogging'! I DO!" One way of metaphorically clapping your hands would be to email me something - a "bloggable," I call it in my whimsical fashion - that I could cut-and-paste directly into my "blog." It has worked in the past. Think of me as NPR, and this is the part where I ask for your help. Together, we can make "blogging" a reality!

Look Ma, I'm Art!

Seems like they're taking some stuff I wrote and hanging it on the wall of an art gallery. I guess anything goes in this day and age! Come down to the opening reception on Thursday and we'll figure it out together.

I Love to Learn

Hello to all my imaginary friends out in the land of "bloggery"! Well, folks, I got my "copy-edits" today, for my upcoming book of short stories. That's when you find out everything you didn't know about commas! The woman in charge of my "copy-edits" did a great job and found lots of things that would have otherwise embarrassed me. I hope she never reads my "blog"! Anyway, my "copy-edits" were full of tidbits! By far the most distressing: the show that I have been calling THE GILMORE GIRLS, over and over, in front of the world, is actually called GILMORE GIRLS, with no "THE"! What a jerk I am. I think I'm so hot.

A Disturbing New Trend

Welcome to Chapter 12 of our wildly popular "blogging" series on writers and the comic books they cherished when they were young. John T. Edge (left; photo by Bruce Newman), an amazing writer by any standards, who just happens to specialize in food (as a way to explore culture and history, among other things), has declared his childhood affection for G.I. Joe (comic book version) and Richie Rich. The former penchant he shares with terrific novelist Jason Headley, the latter with Amanda Stern and Mark Childress. With this recent tabulation, Richie Rich comes a step closer to usurping the throne of literary influence from Archie Andrews of Riverdale High. I, your blogger, had a similar interest in Richie Rich, way back when. Now, as a man, I question my taste, and the pernicious influence of Mr. Rich's sick lifestyle on my impressionable young mind. I'm working on two novels right now, and Richie Rich figures into one, wherein a character goes off at some length on Mr. Rich and his hapless friends (such as Pee Wee, who, if memory serves, was forced to live in a garbage dump) and servants. Mr. Childress, however, has advised me not to give the "milk" away for free, in a "blogging" sense, so I'm afraid that everyone will just have to wait until my book comes out to study my devastating insights into the subject of Richie Rich. Mr. Childress, in fact, considers ALL blogging, I believe, to be a case of giving away the "milk" for free. But don't worry, world! There's plenty more free "milk" on the way... in the form of my "blog," that is!

The History of "Blogging"

Hey, remember a guy named String Bean on the HEE HAW show? Of course you don't! What is WRONG with you young people today in your world of fast cars and computers? String Bean would say "I have a letter right here, close to my heart," and he'd pull it out of his BACK POCKET! Then he would read a supposed letter from home, full of musings. In many ways, String Bean was the original "blogger." Speaking of letters and musings and "bloggings," I'm afraid I went a little "blog" crazy yesterday and buried an exciting dispatch from Rome beneath an avalanche of other urgent thoughts. Dispatches from Rome are a vital new feature of the "blog" and I didn't want you to miss it. Here's today's "blogging" tip: Check your favorite "blog" often! You might miss something and then you'll be sorry.

News of the World

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

Amanda Stern, Meet Pia Z. Ehrhardt

You know who would like Pia Z. Ehrhardt's writing? Amanda Stern. You know who would like Amanda Stern's writing? Pia Z. Ehrhardt! You know who would like the writing of Pia Z. Ehrhardt and Amanda Stern? Everybody! But those two, yes, they would really like one another's writing. Tough writing! Tough writing from the ladies!

Writers and Their Comic Books, Part XI

I noticed on the "blog" of fellow "blogger" Pia Z. Ehrhardt that when she told me her favorite comic character was Mary Worth, she really meant to say "Brenda Starr." The stoic and resilient Ms. Ehrhardt vowed in full view of "blogdom" to stand by her commitment to Mary Worth, be it the result of whatever innocuous slip. But we cannot allow such holes in our important research, nor such calumny to be visited upon our friends! We hereby correct the record and blush at our eagerness to rush to press with inaccurate, if titillating, information. Bearing that in mind, we might also mention that we have not fact-checked the always impeccably accurate Tom Bissell as to the political leanings of certain soccer players, nor do we intend to.

Television Achieves Greatness

Here in the Pendarvis Building we're all getting ready for Tuesday night, when THE GILMORE GIRLS and VERONICA MARS on "The CW" will be followed (on NBC) by Jerry Lewis' guest-starring role on LAW & ORDER: SVU! This is all too good to be true. But it is! It is true! We're pinching ourselves, and each other, over and over in a sad and lethargic way. Okay, I can no longer explain to a living soul about THE GILMORE GIRLS, it's too late, you'll never catch up now. If you start, you won't care. And why should you? You have important things on your mind! Never mind that a famed crank like Phil Oppenheim has a soft spot for the Gilmore Girls and has even defended the logy season-in-progress. Look, please don't watch THE GILMORE GIRLS! I'm tired of your mockery and grief, world! I give up! You win! You've taken away my innocent happiness! Good for you! But you MUST LOVE JERRY LEWIS! I really love him, not in a cute or ironic way. I notice that when a comedian like Dennis Miller or Conan O'Brien or the South Park people want to say something really witty about France, they mention that country's famous love of Jerry Lewis. Nothing against Mr. Miller or O'Brien or those other folks, who I suppose have striven with all their little hearts to bring joy and laughter into the world for working stiffs like you and me, but I contend that Jerry Lewis lives somewhere above any such smart, stale reference. Anyway, why are they picking on Jerry Lewis? It's like, Ha ha ha, French people like you - zing! I know he's done some weird stuff that seems bad, but even that aspect of his work can be fascinating and entertaining. And his funny stuff is truly funny. Give him a chance, people. Friend-of-the-blog Jeff McNeil and I have often commiserated over the painful experience of forcing a squirming friend or loved one to watch a Jerry Lewis movie. Mr. McNeil and I, you see, have trained ourselves to appreciate the uncomfortable parts so we can get to the incredible parts. Try it at home! It's easy and fun! Mr. McNeil draws your attention to the furniture and carpeting in THE PATSY, and the scene in which Stanley Belt (Lewis) tries to tell a joke, a scene which Mr. McNeil wishes would last for 90 minutes. Mr. McNeil has reported driving to work and bursting into laughter at the mere memory of that scene. Okay, that's all I have to say about Jerry Lewis... for today. And I hope that I have successfully courted the youthful demographic by typing the name Jerry Lewis one million times. Between Jerry and the Gilmore Girls, I guess everyone is against me. But I'm sure we can all agree on Veronica Mars, so let's focus on that.

Dispatch From Rome

There, that wasn't so bad, was it? I'm back and ready to "blog"! Oh boy, this is a good one, a real nice way to return to "blogging." What did we find in the "blog" mailbag but a dispatch from Rome? Not just a letter from Rome like last time, but a big giant full-fledged dispatch, with all the classiness that implies! Frankly I don't know why I'm still typing instead of cutting and pasting. Well, our dispatcher is Mr. Tom Bissell, who hastens to have us add a disclaimer: This dispatch was originally dispatched, in a somewhat different form, as a letter to his beloved girlfriend. (Oh, one final note: I have softened up a few of Mr. Bissell's joyous and eloquent expletives, because I happen to know that some of Ashley Warlick's high school students - who should in no way emulate the behavior of the old Italian dudes or blotto teen described in the following dispatch - may be reading this with the internet devices that are so much a part of today's modern schooling in this strange world of tomorrow, and I'm mindful of that. Ashley, a fine novelist who has been mentioned before in the "blog," called to impart the news that she's been teaching the kids one of my stories and they've been looking me up on the "Google," which fills me with dread and responsibility.) With that, the dispatch: 'It is quite possible that you don't know Rome or Romans without going to a Roma soccer game. After you've gone to a Roma soccer game, you begin to understand something about this magical, astonishing place: It's filled with f-----g lunatics. Roma won the game I attented 4 to 0, which was surprising, apparently, but the game was not really holding my interest. What held my interest was everything going on around the game. Where do I start? I think I'll start with the fans of the opposing team, Donetsk (of the Ukrainian Donetsks), who occupied one teensy section of the immense circular stadium, and who were surrounded by truncheon-carrying riot police to prevent them from being torn to shreds. Then there was the frankly astounding number of old Italian geezers smoking weed in the stands. And fourteen-year-olds drinking beer. I swear I saw a little girl no older than fourteen smashed on beer. Her dad, who looked like an accountant, was too stoned to notice. H----, the American friend I went to the game with, told me many Italians' entire social existence is defined by these games. Games are like the Superbowl with some searching, pilgrimagey, and bawdily Chaucerian overtones--every other night, forty times a year. Once the game started, the crowd started shooting actual flares into the sky, flares as in I'm-stuck-in-the-middle-of-the-ocean-and-need-to-be-rescued flares. Also they were throwing what sounded like M80 firecrackers, the kind that sound like car bombs. The really hardcore fans apparently throw them at each other. The really hardcore fans are also kept in a special glassed-in section of the stadium, so that as the game goes on, and they get drunker and rowdier, it begins to resemble some kind of Darwinian holding station, with people screaming and punching and yelling and pushing. And then there were the chants. Most of the chants were about s------g on the referees' dead ancestors' souls, which, I don't know, seems really obscure to me. Knowing someone was s------g on my dead ancestors' souls just wouldn't wind me up. My loss, possibly, but still.... The rest of the chants were about Lazio, the city of Rome's other big team. Yes, Roma fans hate Lazio so much they were singing anti-Lazio chants even though they were not, at that moment, playing Lazio. A few of these chants concerned f-----g the sisters of Lazio fans, though not, I'm assured, s------g on them. Lazio's team, I'm told, has a 100 percent fascist ethos. Lazio's captain is an actual bonafied Nazi or something. He gives the fascist salute before every game, and the Lazio fans respond in kind. The Roma fans, who again despise Lazio, turn their hands to the side, pinkie down, when they're cheering, to avoid making the fascist salute, which is a strange thing to have to worry about/be conscious of doing at a sporting event. ("Whoa! I accidentally made the fascist salute!" "Hey, is that guy cheering happily or fascistically semaphoring?") Finally, my favorite thing was the song they sang at the end of the game. The lyrics, my friend told me, went something like this: "My wife doesn't matter, neither does my priest, you are my everything, Team Roma, you are my everything." I told my friend that, despite the fun I had (and you really don't know fun until you've seen Roma score a goal and been hugged by twenty complete strangers; people were actually crying with joy after a goal, and this was a pretty meaningless game), despite the fun I had, I told my friend H----, I really do think there's something shark-f------ly crazy about caring this much about soccer. H---- looked at me for a very long time, then shook his head and said I didn't understand. Apparently, this virus can jump transnational hosts, then. I must be careful....'

Pendarvis Urges Calm

Don't worry, everybody! I'll only be gone from the "blog" for a few days. I'm on my way to the Eugene Walter Writers Festival to do my thing. Even if you can't be there, you can join in through the magical world of imagination. Just buy my book THE MYSTERIOUS SECRET OF THE VALUABLE TREASURE and pretend I'm reading it to you. It's easy and fun! Get it from one of the usual places on the internet, or wouldn't it be nicer to give your business to a fine independent bookstore like Turnrow, Lemuria, Square Books, Changing Hands (where I received the t-shirt I'm wearing in the picture above) or A Cappella? Email or call! You'll find them all quite as personable as any computer. That's the Pendarvis guarantee! Well, this is what my sister tells me every day that a "blog" is for. I hope she's happy! She also told me to link to something I've written.

Kudos from Across a Continent

The letters keep rolling in here at the "blog." Author Jason Headley chimes in from San Francisco, and appears to be quite taken with our style. "Welcome to the 1990s," he writes. There's just one problem, Jason. It's not the 1990s! It's 2006! Sorry to "rib" you about your slip of the pen, but it was just too good to pass up! Folks, we can't make this stuff up.

"Blog" Attains Optimum Classiness with Addition of British-Born Novelist

Wesley Stace's novel MISFORTUNE has been lauded hither and yon with such hosannahs that our poor two cents (or shillings - ha ha! that's what they call money in England!) is hardly necessary. Our use of the word "hosannahs," with all its classiness, should be a good indication of what we're talking about. The book is indescribable anyway - people say "Dickensian" a lot, but that's not it... despite the fact that Stace shares with Dickens the ability to craft a teeming, living story filled with characters about whom one frets with real fear and feeling. Plus it's funny! Though I had considered dropping the whole "writers and their comic books" angle of this "blog," Mr. Stace's response to that line of "blogging" deserves quoting in full. And here it is, marking part 10 of our ambitious series: "My favourite comic character - and what's the betting I'm the only one who can lay claim to him, at least in America - was Billy of 'Billy's Boots'. This comic strip was in 'Scorcher & Score' (an amalgamation of two football comics), which then became 'Tiger and Scorcher' (which I hated, because some of the comic strips were about sports OTHER THAN SOCCER!) and then finally found a home in the revamped 'Roy of the Rovers' (an offshoot that was more successful.) Tediously, Billy didn't change into anything, but he did have a superpower, in that he had found magical boots, that (as far as I can remember at this distance) had belonged to someone famous, or at least someone very good - these boots were always being stolen or getting lost or getting him in trouble or bringing him victory. It had a very quaint 50s feel, and for all I know that's when it actually dated from. I never liked US comics - Marvel, DC etc - though I did like the ads in the back - and there's a lengthy tribute to these ads in my next novel!"

Donut Story Reveals "Holes" in "Blog" Security

I won't lie to you, friends, I was all "blogged" out tonight. But as I'm sure you've heard by now, the identity of the anonymous figure in our most recent bloggy type thing has been revealed on a couple of investigative web sites, and the story has been picked up by Reuters. I am regretfully forced to confirm that the donut-eater in question is in fact James Whorton, Jr. If it does turn out that the leak comes from within, you can rest assured that the person or persons responsible will be punished appropriately - perhaps more than appropriately. Whorton, a novelist of deeply humane humor, whose artful restraint conceals an unexpected punch, does not deserve the kind of negative publicity that his love of plain cake donuts has brought down upon his head. But do you want to know something funny? This is completely true. I was on the phone with my friend Barry a few hours ago and I said, "Hey, Barry, what's your favorite kind of donut?" And Barry, lightning quick, replied, "A plain cake donut," just like that! And I said, "Aw, come on. You've been reading my blog!" And Barry said, "No I haven't." Further questioning ascertained the truthfulness of Barry's somewhat incredible claim that he had not been reading my blog for some reason! He just happens to like plain cake donuts and that's all there is to it! If anything good has come out of all this suffering, it is the renewed focus on plain cake donuts.

Plain Cake Donuts

The team here in the Pendarvis Building has just received word from an anonymous friend-of-the-blog who ate three plain cake donuts for breakfast Sunday morning and did not "settle down" (his or her words) until three that afternoon. Our thoughts and prayers go out to this person's family. He or she still considers plain cake donuts the best, an opinion with which I, speaking as blog team leader, concur. Plain cake donuts have always been my favorite. This is just one of the many things my anonymous friend and I have in common! This shy person, a recent transplant to upstate New York, tells the team that plain cake donuts are called "fry cake" donuts up there. Today's "blogging" tip: If you're in upstate New York, say "fry cake"! You'll be glad you did. P.S. I refer my anonymous friend, and all blog-readers, whether or not they are donut-eaters, to the pictured reference work. It should be noted that the donuts pictured are not plain cake or "fry cake" donuts.

Amanda Stern

I love Amanda Stern's novel THE LONG HAUL so much that I've written about it in three articles. By the time two of them made it to print, the "Amanda Stern" sections, as I fondly thought of them, had been cut out for one reason or another. The third article just never got published. But now I have a "blog"! So I can say anything I want and the world has to listen! I can say that THE LONG HAUL is a perfect, icy book, a tough book, where the humor cuts, the writing is flinty and true, oh my Lord, this is a horrible description of it, and it's starting to be longer than the book itself. I should have saved those articles! The main thing is, it breaks your heart. That's because the narrator lets us (almost by accident it seems, so deft is the writing) into those cracks in the ice, and we feel real pain, real regret, under that crafted, crystalline surface. So, (here comes part nine of our survey) Amanda liked Richie Rich and Archie as a girl, but you know, that theme of this blog is wearing thin, isn't it? Still, I can't resist pointing out that Archie is whipping everybody else's behinds. Writers love Archie! If this blog has proven anything, it's that. Coincidentally, right now Amanda is teaching a course in graphic novel writing to 5th, 6th and 7th graders... and it is through this activity, I believe, that she has discovered a fellow whose work she recommends to us all: Matt Madden. But the main thing is, read THE LONG HAUL, despite - nay, because of! - my dodgy description. Hey, there was a big picture of Amanda in the New York Times Magazine a week or two ago, full color! That, along with the fact that we have a correspondent in Rome, and one with a genius grant, makes this the classiest blog of all time!