My Merry Scampering

You know how I love reference books. Had to go over to Square Books and pick up a volume called A CULTURAL DICTIONARY OF PUNK by Nicholas Rombes because according to therumpus.net it contains an entry on Barry Hannah, and I was like, "All right!" So therumpus.net was correct, of course. A footnote to the entry refers to Barry Hannah as "Barry Honnah" because that's the way you do it in punk! Proofreading is for squares. What therumpus.net didn't tell me was that A CULTURAL DICTIONARY OF PUNK also examines the Don Rickles sitcom C.P.O. SHARKEY (a frequent source of discussion with both Mr. Ward and McNeil). The specific episode under consideration is titled "Punk Rock Sharkey," which according to the book is all about Don Rickles "convincing a punkish girl to join the navy." The author goes on to make a good case for the punkishness of Rickles himself, who exemplifies punk as (quoting again) "above all, a stance, a way of carrying yourself in the world, a performance." Naturally this sent me scampering merrily for the L's, where I was sure I would find an entry on Jerry Lewis. I did not.

What Have You Got Against Champagne and Diamonds?

Yesterday in class I read some Samuel Beckett out loud and then I read some Anita Loos out loud. The Samuel Beckett was like this: "I see then I had attributed to myself certain objects no longer in my possession, as far as I can see. But might they not have rolled behind a piece of furniture? That would surprise me. A boot, for example, can a boot roll behind a piece of furniture? And yet I see only one boot. And behind what piece of furniture?" The Anita Loos: "So now we are on an oriental express and everything seems to be quite unusual. I mean Dorothy and I got up this morning and we looked out the window of our compartment and it was really quite unusual. Because it was farms, and we saw quite a lot of girls who seemed to be putting small size hay stacks onto large size hay stacks while their husbands seemed to sit under quite a shady tree and drink beer. Or else their husbands seemed to sit on a fence and smoke their pipe and watch them." That's just a taste of each. And it turns out that the more Samuel Beckett you read out loud and the more Anita Loos you read out loud, the more Samuel Beckett starts to sound like Anita Loos and the more Anita Loos starts to sound like Samuel Beckett. Their rhythms, their repetitions, are similar. Their provisionality is similar, their unwillingness to state outright, not Beckett's and Loos's, I guess, but Malone's and Lorelei Lee's. But Lorelei Lee enjoys champagne and diamonds and was played in a movie by Marilyn Monroe (unlike Malone, but that would have been awesome), so we ignore the ambitious modernist stylization of the language. But wouldn't that make a nice long academic paper for somebody to write: Malone vs. Lorelei Lee? And the roles that gender and genre preconceptions play in the relative seriousness of critical energy expended and blah blah blah?

Medium Report

Usually this space is reserved for a "Media Report," but once again we are looking at a single medium: in this case, movies of which I have recently watched portions. I had to call McNeil this morning while I was watching part of THERE'S A GIRL IN MY SOUP. I needed to know whether he thought comedy was an essentially conservative genre. McNeil said that people could think of it as conservative because of how often it ends with a wedding, but he also thought that the wedding might be a device by which to disguise, justify, or excuse the anarchic or antisocial or subversive aspects of the comedy's main body. Yes, sometimes that's the way McNeil talks! THERE'S A GIRL IN MY SOUP is a - what should I call it? - ideologically confused film, I guess, coming as it does near the end of the "Hipster Hegemony" period immortalized by McNeil and myself in the coffee table book we're never going to write. It could be that by reveling in the exciting, sordid details of "underground culture," the movie - like a lot of the ones McNeil and I discuss in our imaginary book - actually argues for the triumph of the "square," or of the "swinger" who learns that this "square" life isn't so bad after all, yes, the reformed, sanitized swinger. THERE'S A GIRL IN MY SOUP should not be watched by newcomers to the "Hipster Hegemony" idea. Peter Sellers takes off his shirt a lot in it - he's a regular Frasier or Gordon Ramsay (in fact Sellers plays a restaurant critic) in that regard - and boy does he have a hairy back, which is perfectly okay. It is none of my business that Peter Sellers happens to have a hairy back! I have nothing against it. I've just never noticed before, that's all. I guess it also should have occurred to me that Peter Sellers might have had a makeup person apply ersatz back hair, being a stickler for character-defining detail as he was, but I certainly doubt it. But the main thing I needed to tell McNeil (and never did, sidetracked about philosophy and aesthetics and other grand things as we were) is that THERE'S A GIRL IN MY SOUP contains one of those movie rock bands that he especially loves. I didn't catch the name of the band (maybe it's in the closing credits) but the song they keep playing goes, "Arabella Cinderella, what does she do?/ Turns into a pumpkin at the stroke of two." Terrible! And the accompanying music is that big movie studio approximation of what a groovy rock band should sound like. (For a later, more informed "post," "click" here.) Next, I would like to admit that I may have been too hard on the shady psychiatry in THREE ON A COUCH, because I just saw some even shadier psychiatry when I watched part of an old movie called MANHANDLED. It starts out with a guy telling his psychiatrist a recurring dream he has, in which he conks his wife on the head - fatally - with a "quart sized perfume bottle." That's a real quotation! Then the psychiatrist tells him not to worry, that people have crazy dreams all the time, and that everything he says will be held in the strictest confidence. This is funny, because there is a woman (Dorothy Lamour) in the room, taking notes on everything the guy says. "Oh, don't worry," says the psychiatrist (I'm paraphrasing), "she has been with me for four years and is very discreet." Then the guy leaves, and it turns out Dorothy Lamour has been working with the psychiatrist for no more than a few weeks, but the psychiatrist didn't want to make the guy nervous. That's not even the bad part! The bad part is that the psychiatrist IMMEDIATELY CALLS THE GUY'S WIFE! He invites her to his office in the dead of night, and says something like, "Hey, your husband keeps dreaming he's clobbering you with a perfume bottle, what do you make of that, huh?" And he says something like, "Do you think he's crazy?" I'm not kidding! I mean, isn't he asking the wife to do HIS JOB? And then he gets Dorothy Lamour to READ THE ENTIRE TRANSCRIPT TO HER. Some bad stuff happens after that, of course. But what did the psychiatrist expect? I turned it off pretty early, even though the great Dan Duryea was playing Dorothy Lamour's downstairs neighbor, a typically wonderful sleaze. Hey, do you know what? The search feature on the "blog" still isn't working correctly - it says I have never mentioned perfume before, for example - so it takes me forever to find the right "links." The "links" no one ever "clicks" on! And I know no one is reading this! It's too long! Yet still I try to get it right. That's how much I care about you, the leaders of tomorrow.

A Guide for the Perplexed

The more I think about the prank that the Bizarro Superman disguised as Jerry Lewis is playing on the superdog [WHY??? - ed.] the more confused I become. It appears upon close inspection that the dog is a Bizzaro superdog, meaning that he is the opposite of a regular superdog. I begin with the assumption that a superdog has the same tastes as a regular dog. The more I think of it, a regular dog (AND a superdog) would most likely PREFER a "cold dog" to a "hot dog." Do dogs enjoy piping hot food as a rule? They do not, in my experience. On the Bizarro world, then, I believe it is safe to assume that the dogs would insist that their food be served right out of the oven. This being the case, IS NOT THE BIZARRO SUPERMAN DOING HIS DOG A BIG FAVOR BY USING HIS HEAT VISION TO BROIL THE HOT DOGS IN QUESTION? If so, in what sense is it a "prank"? But maybe on the Bizarro world, pranks are favors! But then... my head hurts. I named this "post" after a work by the great 12th-century thinker Moses Maimonides. Ha ha! That's some of that intellectual humor that everyone enjoys.

Everybody Loves Hot Dogs

Barry B. thinks I should revel in the Abbott and Costello comparison and take it all the way to its logical conclusion. "In your next book," he writes, "you can have a character run into Frankenstein, Dracula and the Wolfman! All in one action packed book!" A great idea, and one that calls for the rare inclusion of a photo that actually has something to do with the "post." Speaking of new images and Halloweenish stuff, Phil sent me this comic book cover (below) showing Bizarro Supermen dressed up like President Kennedy and Marilyn Monroe (!!!) and Jerry Lewis for Halloween. If you don't know what a Bizarro Superman is, I don't have time to tell you. The Bizarro Jerry Superman thinks he is playing a trick on Krypto the Superdog by turning delicious "cold dogs" into terrible "hot dogs" - but the joke is on him, because everybody loves hot dogs!

What?

Now it can be revealed: I have a new regular column in THE BELIEVER magazine AND a new regular column in the OXFORD AMERICAN. I assure you, I am as outraged as you are, and intend to write strongly worded letters to the editors of both publications. This time, the randomly chosen illustration seems all too appropriate.

I Hope You Did Not Forget Our Pleasant Ambition

It has been a couple of weeks, so I hope you did not forget that we are attempting to find engaging, pleasant people covering Beach Boys songs in their homes, schools, churches, and places of business, until we have found every single Beach Boys song covered by every single person on the "internet." Here is number 33 in our continuing series:

The Sad Little Book That No One Would Print

Mark Childress told me that the Publishers Weekly review of my new book is up, and that it's nice. The funny part is that no one seems to be in a rush to get the book printed. So there's a review and a cover, but no book. Ha ha! Ironical! Mark is right: the review is nice, once you take into consideration how much Publishers Weekly hates me! They give a good, accurate summary of the book, then add, "This series of minor misadventures worthy of an Abbott and Costello movie is sure to please the author’s fans." Now that might be a kiss or it might be a slap. Maybe it's both! That's kind of exciting! But if I were one of my fans, I could grow indignant. Like they're saying, "Those jerks will eat it up." On the other hand, maybe Publishers Weekly holds Abbott and Costello in high regard. In any case, it's pretty nice considering the abusive relationship I've had with them in the past, and their synopsis is attractive if you ask me. Also, it's adorable that they think I have fans! (This "post" adheres to the "blog's" new policy of recycling old pictures that have nothing to do with anything.)

Joan's Accordion

Tonight Joan (Christina Hendricks) played the accordion on MAD MEN, so that made me feel better. Joan and I are just alike! I thought it might be worth breaking my rule and adding a new picture to the "blog," but I couldn't find any pictures of Joan playing the accordion yet. I'll bet that's Dyna Moe's MAD MEN illustration for tomorrow, though. While I was looking for Joan playing the accordion I found this instead. And I couldn't resist adding it because it's so true in my experience, though my computer now has 1,003 pictures on it and will certainly blow up.

Go Do That

I don't like the commercial in which the guy asks his chum the rhetorical question, "How sick is the web browsing?" I know he means that the web browsing is good! I understand! But somehow I don't like it. It's not even the slang that bothers me, really. I think it's the idea somewhere on the corporate level that the slang was "relatable" - yes, I imagine some guy stopped another guy in the hallway and explained it was "relatable." Hey, there are probably more important problems to consider. Go do that!

The Crank

I may have been too hard on the young director in question, who makes the movies called CRANK. I haven't seen them, but Brian Z. contends that they are "the intersection of Michael Bay and the French New Wave." Half of that sounds pretty good! And Brian Z. is smart and from what I can tell always right so far. So maybe I'M the crank. Get it? Wheeeeee!

He Wishes!

As you know, there are two laws of the "blog": 1) Now I use only random recycled pictures that have nothing to do with the "post" (unless an interesting new costumed mascot character shows up). 2) Whenever Jerry Lewis is mentioned in the New York Times, it is my sworn duty to alert you, even if the reference is a dud, like today's. So today in the New York Times some hotshot young movie director joked/bragged that one day he might be considered "the Jerry Lewis of action movies." And I was like, "Good luck, pal." To make matters worse, he went on to indulge in the dullest and weariest of all "clever remarks," something about how much the French love Jerry Lewis, which, as you know, is a hoary old meaningless quip I have banned from the world by decree.

The Mascot Exception

Okay! Here is one more new picture, because whenever our mascot discussion expands, I will allow a new picture of the mascot in question. Today I learned that a coworker went to a college at which the mascot was the fighting okra, which she described as "okra wearing boxing gloves." She promised to bring me a sticker for my accordion case. You can't see the boxing gloves in this picture: the fighting okra is hugging that guy from the Food Network and he doesn't look too happy about it, though neither does the okra for that matter. In other mascot news, Informant J2 got some junk mail today, including a catalog from Evergreen State, in which Speedy the Geoduck was depicted giving a "thumbs up." Informant J2 inquires, "What are the odds?"

A-O-A-O! That's How to Spell Garofalo!

I realized at some point today that I had misspelled Janeane Garofalo's name. Her first name I got right somehow, though it's a brainteaser in its own way. But I was not near a computer and was powerless to correct my Garofalo. Needless to say, it was all I could think about during the faculty meeting. Don't worry! I've fixed it now. A good trick, in case you need to spell Garofalo, is to remember A-O-A-O. That's how the vowels go. Very symmetrical, and I'm ashamed to have blown it. At least I can still spell David Strathairn at the drop of a hat. I've got that going for me. (Why doesn't the picture have anything to do with Janeane Garofalo? Because that's the way the "blog" is now!)

I Dream of Talk Shows

Hey! Do you want to know what I dreamed last night? No? Then why are you reading a "blog"? So last night I dreamed that Jerry Lewis was interviewing Janeane Garofalo in front of a live studio audience. I remember one of the questions. Jerry asked Janeane, "How did your father spell his name?" And Janeane looked puzzled, but started to answer: "G-A-R..." then she stopped and said, "He spelled it just like mine." And Jerry said, "You don't look like a Garofalo." But the main part of the dream was that the studio audience seemed unaware of their responsibilities as a studio audience. They were chatting amongst themselves during the show, for example, and a number of them were standing up and milling around. Jerry got upset and called off the interview. Then he told the audience he was going to sue everybody in it. At this point in the dream I was filled with anxiety, because I suddenly realized I WAS IN THE AUDIENCE! Do you want to know what this dream was about? The difficulty of teaching Anita Loos to our modern day college students. (This "post" illustrated with random picture #7.)

Man and Superman

McNeil was telling me about another ad from his 1975 Superman comic book. There's this boss chewing out this guy who was seven minutes late for work. Then the guy says (as McNeil tells it), "I don't care about your job, old man! I've been accepted at the Cleveland Institute of Technology and I'm going to learn to be a radio operator!" McNeil thought it was funny that they were targeting a disgruntled middle-aged demographic in a Superman comic book. ("Click" here if you care why this "post" isn't illustrated with a picture of Superman.) Also, McNeil isn't sure it was the Cleveland Institute of Technology, but he's pretty sure, and anyway, it was something like that. Finally, I asked him what was on the cover and he said that Superman had been captured by "some army guys."

Hector Santiago and the Ceviche of Fear

I'll admit I was scared when our friend Hector said he was going to make "tofu ceviche." I believe I said, "Noooooooo!" To a long-time TOP CHEF viewer like myself, it sounded like a rookie mistake. And they edited it the way they usually edit the mistakes, including a clip of Hector saying something like, "It's hard to make tofu taste good" (I'm paraphrasing). Almost always, that means that later in the show there's a disaster, and the home viewer has been primed to shout at the TV: "Why did he cook something that he himself said never tastes good?" But guess what? Hector's tofu ceviche was a triumph, one of the judges' favorite dishes of the evening. So Hector moves on to another round - with honors. Go, Hector! (Note: If you wonder why the picture doesn't match the text, see any one of my recent "posts" for details.)

Down Swings the Sword

I wish you could see the comic book ad McNeil sent. But you can't, for all the reasons previously stated (which also explain why this "post" will be illustrated with a random picture of I don't know what). Anyway, part of the ad goes like this: "CONDEMNED TO CHAINS FOREVER! He tried to skip ship, but skip he will no longer. A hard hearted scene with alligator and all. But alligator beware! A finger's touch and... Zap/Action! Down swings the sword upon the alligator's head!" And it shows a skeleton clobbering an alligator with a sword.

The New Concept of Zap Action

Remember when I wasn't going to add any new pictures to the "blog"? Well now I am again because who cares. Besides, Kent sent me some pictures of a mascot that Mr. Ward and I had a hand in creating. So how could I NOT put it on the "blog," what with all the talk of mascots that has been going on day and night and causing such a ruckus among people in the know? That's Ushy. He's an usher, which is why his name is Ushy. Also seen: Jimmy, a puppet who was voiced and puppetized by Mike Mitchell. The human among them is Kent. (Mr. Ward is wearing the Ushy suit.) In other picture news, McNeil sent me an ad from a Superman comic book of his youth, and I was going to put that on the "blog" too, but the file was unsuitable or something, and I couldn't make it work. In other words, I was going to fall all the way off the wagon and give you all the new pictures you could possibly stand! The ad was for some pirate skeleton toys exemplifying what the copywriters referred to as "the new concept of zap action." Okay, I am going back to putting nothing but random old pictures on the "blog" because now my computer has 1,001 pictures in it, counting Ushy, and from my understanding of computers, that's all a computer can handle before it explodes, and this time I really mean it for real. My other problems include the search feature on this "blog," which hasn't worked properly in months and the fact that last night when I was removing the zest from a lemon, I accidentally grated part of my finger. My problems are HUGE and IMPORTANT!