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hello pals!
here are two drawings i did on my moleskine in these days! one is about U.S. baseball team (I've seen them at a World Cup game here in Italy) and one is regarding some things I'm searching for or I recently bought on ebay!
hope you enjoy it!
you can see both on my flickr, here and here!
ciao!

Poor Donnie Moore. Just one strike away from glory.

Read about him HERE on my blog.

japanese moleskine

www.elviaemontemayor.blogspot.com

The tragic story of screenwriter Doug Kenney HERE on the josh pincus is crying blog.

Sarah Holcomb only appeared in four movies in her brief three-year career. Chances are, you've seen half of them.

At 18, Sarah made her film debut in National Lampoon's Animal House as Clorette DePasto, the underage virginal daughter of shady mayor Carmine DePasto. She meets Larry (played by future Academy Award nominee Tom Hulce) when he is stealing from her employer, The Food King Supermarket, as part of a fraternity prank. Larry asks her to the infamous toga party and, afterwards, deposits her on her family's front lawn, drunk and in a shopping cart.

After roles in two forgettable films, 1979's Walk Proud and 1980's Happy Birthday, Gemini, she returned as Danny Noonan's inexplicably Irish girlfriend Maggie O'Hooligan in Caddyshack.

Then she disappeared.

Animal House screenwriter Chris Miller remembered that Sarah was much younger than the rest of the film's cast and crew. He related how drugs and alcohol were plentiful and flowed freely on the set. He admitted in his autobiography that, in hindsight, it was a very bad influence on her impressionable mind. The same was true on the set of Caddyshack. This time, however, Sarah's excessive drug consumption aggravated her previously undiagnosed schizophrenia.

In 2007, a railroad worker named Bobby wrote on his blog about his encounter with a woman he believed to be Sarah Holcomb. According to Chris Miller, she is "living a quiet, obscure life far from the madness of Hollywood under an assumed name and does not wish to be found."

Lena Zavaroni grew up on the Isle of Bute (a part of Scotland) and began singing at the age of two. At nine, she appeared on the British talent search program, Hughie Green’s Opportunity Knocks and won the show for a record-breaking five consecutive weeks. She released Ma, He’s Making Eyes At Me, a collection of standards, which reached #8 on the UK album chart. She became the youngest person to have an album in the British top 10, an accomplishment that still stands.

Lena also sang at a Hollywood charity show with Frank Sinatra and Lucille Ball in 1974. Backstage, Lucy commented to young Lena, “You’re special. Very special and very, very good.” Lena went on to appear and perform on The Carol Burnett Show, Johnny Carson’s Tonight Show, Cher’s variety show and The Jerry Lewis Telethon. She also appeared on a number of variety shows on the BBC and eventually performed at the White House for US President Gerald Ford. “Ma! He’s Making Eyes at Me,” an Eddie Cantor song from 1921, became her only US hit when it charted a four-week run on the Billboard Hot 100 in the summer of 1974. Always more popular in her native United Kingdom, Lena had her own TV series on the BBC in the early 1980s.

From the age of 13, Lena suffered from anorexia nervosa. While at school, her weight dropped to 56 pounds. Lena blamed her weight loss on the pressure placed upon her to fit into costumes while she was “developing as a woman.” Lena underwent a number of drug treatments and received electroshock therapy in an attempt to combat her anorexia. Lean also suffered from depression and begged doctors for an operation to give her relief. Although surgery would not cure her anorexia, she was desperate and threatened suicide if she did not receive an operation.

In September 1999 Lena was admitted to University Hospital of Wales for a psychosurgical operation. After the operation, she appeared to be in good spirits and recovering at a slow, but satisfactory pace. She even asked her doctors about the possibility of returning to the stage. But, three weeks later and weighing less than 70 pounds, she developed a chest infection and died from pneumonia. She was 35.

Three nights ago the only thing on 22-year old rookie Nick Adenhart's mind was not giving up any runs to the Oakland A's starting lineup. Nick scattered seven hits and three walks across six innings, while ringing up five Oakland batters on strikes. Nick was looking great in his 2009 season debut as part of the pitching rotation of the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim. Reliever Jose Arredondo took over pitching duties in the seventh inning and gave up two runs. The Angels sent two more relief pitchers in. One blown save later, the Angels had lost and, although he threw six scoreless innings, Nick finished the game with a "no-decision". Nick and his teammates hit the showers. In two hours, a selfish, lowlife, drunk piece of shit named Thomas Gallo would take away Nick's chance at a second start.

Nick was a passenger in a friend's Mitsubishi Eclipse as it approached the intersection of Orangethorpe and Lemon in Fullerton, a short distance from Angels Stadium. Thomas Gallo, driving with a suspended license and a previous DUI conviction, ran a red light in his Toyota Sienna and smashed into the Eclipse, instantly killing two of the passengers. Gallo fled the scene on foot. Emergency workers arrived and pulled Nick and his friends from the wrecked vehicle. Nick was rushed to University of California-Irvine Medical Center, where he died from injuries sustained in the crash. Gallo was apprehended on an embankment on interstate 91, thirty minutes after the accident.

On Friday morning, April 10, Gallo was charged with three counts of murder, one count of fleeing the scene of a traffic collision involving death or permanent injury, one count of driving under the influence and one count of driving with a blood-alcohol level above the legal limit. Gallo's blood-alcohol level was triple the legal limit. He faces a sentence of 55 years in prison.

The day before his first 2009 start, Nick called his dad in his native Baltimore and insisted he fly in for the game. "You're gonna see something special." he told his father.

Adrienne Shelly began her career with starring roles in independent filmmaker Hal Hartley's The Unbelievable Truth in 1989 and Trust in 1990. She followed those roles with parts in Law & Order, Oz, and Homicide: Life on the Street and two dozen off-Broadway plays. She stepped behind the camera as writer and director four times beginning in 1996. With four features under her belt, she wrote, directed and starred in the independent hit Waitress, which premiered at the prestigious 2007 Sundance Film Festival.
Adrienne had an office in an apartment building in Manhattan's West Village. At 9:30 in the morning on November 1, 2006, her husband dropped her off at the office. He felt it was odd that he had not heard from Adrienne all day. He returned to the building around 5:45 p.m. He, along with the building's doorman, entered the office and discovered Adrienne hanging from the shower curtain rod, a bedsheet knotted around her neck. Originally ruled a suicide, a police investigation revealed sneaker prints that did not match Adrienne's, as she was found wearing socks, not shoes. Adrienne's husband stated that money was missing from his wife's purse. He also insisted that she would not have taken her own life.
Five days later, police arrested construction worker Diego Pillco, a 19-year-old Ecuadorian illegal immigrant who confessed to killing Adrienne after she complained about the noise he was making in the apartment below hers. Pillco said that he "was having a bad day."
At his trial, Pillco entered his plea as guilty. He said that, contrary to his original story, Adrienne had not complained about noise. She had actually caught him stealing money from her purse after he slipped into the apartment. When she tried to call the police, he grabbed the phone and covered her mouth as she began to scream. He admitted to choking her with a sheet, tying it around her neck, and stringing her up to make it look like she committed suicide. Pillco received 25 years in prison without parole when he was sentenced in March 2008. At sentencing, Adrienne's husband was given the opportunity to confront his wife's killer. He looked Pillco in the face and called him "a coldblooded killer" and that he hoped he would "rot in jail."
Adrienne's daughter, Sophie (who was two years old at the time of Adrienne's murder) is featured in Waitress as Keri Russell's daughter.

On November 22, 1955, while returning home by taxi from attending a boxing match, Samuel “Shemp” Howard, of the Three Stooges, died of a massive heart attack. Shemp was lighting a cigar after telling a joke when he suddenly slumped over. The Stooges still had four more shorts to film in order to fulfill their contract with Columbia Pictures. Producer Jules White recruited longtime Stooge supporting actor Joe Palma to fill in for the late Shemp. Through editing, redubbing and strategic staging — that ranged from clever to horribly patchy — White made good on the studio’s contract.
The four final shorts, Rumpus in the Harem, Hot Stuff, Scheming Schemers and Commotion on the Ocean, were remakes of earlier Stooges one-reelers. White shot new scenes with surviving Stooges Larry Fine and Moe Howard, Shemp’s younger brother. Joe Palma appeared in these new scenes usually filmed from behind or with some prop blocking his face. One scene even had Moe, Larry and Joe Palma wearing beards as part of the storyline. Shemp’s limited dialogue was lifted from previous films and dubbed onto the soudtrack.
In Commotion on the Ocean, Moe and Larry slyly discuss the mysterious whereabouts of Shemp. Moe asks, “I wonder what became of that Shemp?” Larry answers, “You know he went on deck to scout out some food.” “Oh, yeah. That’s right.”, replies Moe.
Palma spent his last years in the entertainment industry as an assistant to Jack Lemmon. He appears as “Mr. Palma,” the mailman, in Lemmon’s 1964 Columbia comedy Good Neighbor Sam. His final film appearance was as a butcher in Lemmon’s 1968 Paramount film The Odd Couple. He died of natural causes on August 14, 1994.

The term “Fake Shemp” was adopted by director Sam Raimi and can be found in the credits of his Evil Dead films, as well as other movies.

For my first post of 2009, I'll relate an interesting story that I recently came across.
As I write this, incumbent Norm Coleman and challenger Al Franken are battling for the lead in a heated race for US senator from Minnesota. A tedious recount has taken place since November 2008 and a winner has still not been determined. A former writer for Saturday Night Live, Al Franken is an Emmy Award–winning comedian, radio host, political commentator, and politician.
Israel-born grade-school teacher Gene Simmons, the former Chaim Witz, formed the rock group KISS in 1972 with his friend New York cab driver Stanley Eisen, later known as Paul Stanley. Gene parlayed his stint as a blood-spewing, fire-eating bassist in an over-the-top heavy metal band into a multi-faceted career as a musician, singer, songwriter, record producer, actor, entrepreneur and marketer.
In 1982, Al Franken and Gene Simmons' paths crossed.

Al Franken left the writing staff of Saturday Night Live briefly between 1980 and 1985, although he still maintained residence in New York City. One day in 1982, Franken was waiting for a friend at a New York City racquetball club for some scheduled game time. While Franken was waiting, in walked Gene Simmons, looking for trouble. Franken didn’t recognize him because Simmons was not sporting the Kabuki-monster makeup that made him and KISS household names. Simmons challenged Franken to a game. Franken politely explained he was waiting for somebody else. Simmons, the voice behind “Calling Dr. Love," growled, “I’ll kick your ass!”
Annoyed, but ready for a challenge, Franken agreed to a match and proceeded to humiliatingly defeat the rocker in a matter of minutes. Furious, Simmons demanded another opportunity and still taunted Franken with claims of "I'll kick your ass!" By then, Franken’s racquetball partner had arrived. Franken explained he would have to pass on a pointless rematch. Simmons began to cluck his famous tongue in mock chicken noises. The "buck-buck-buck" teasing pissed Franken off. Franken grudgingly agreed to another round, but only for a $500 stake. This caused multi-millionaire Simmons to back off and sheepishly exit.
Franken's friend asked, "Do you know who that was?" Franken had no clue. "That was Gene Simmons from KISS!", his friend informed. Franken shrugged and replied, "I thought he was just some creep who liked to pick fights at racquetball courts.”

1930s radio comedian Harry Einstein changed his name to Harry Parke. But, he was most famous as "Parkyakarkus", a name taken from a line in his act. When he asked you to sit down, he’d say “park yer carcass!” He became known by his character name rather than his stage name. He was a featured performer on Al Jolson's, and later, Eddie Cantor’s radio show. His shtick was as an English language-mangling Greek restaurateur.
Parkyakarkus was also the father of actor Bob Einstein, Marty Funkhauser on Curb Your Enthusiasm and most famous as dim-witted stuntman, Super Dave Osborne. Bob's brother is Albert Brooks, the comedic director of Defending Your Life and Modern Romance. (That's right, Albert Brooks’ real name is Albert Einstein.)
Paryakarkus appeared in eleven movies through the 30s and 40s. He moved on to gag writing when health issues prevented him from the activity that motion pictures required.
On November 24, 1958, Paryakarkus appeared at a Friars Club roast for Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz. He got bigger laughs than most of the famous speakers. He delivered the traditional jabs and friendly insults associated with a celebrity roast. He finished his bit and received lavish applause as he returned to his seat on the dais next to Milton Berle. The audience and guests were still applauding when Parkyakarkus slumped over against Berle. Parkyakarkus had suffered a fatal heart attack. Berle shouted, "Is there a doctor in the house?" This remark was met with laughter, as the crowd was unaware that Berle was being serious. Berle then directed singer Tony Martin to sing a song to divert the crowd's attention; Martin's unfortunate choice was "There's No Tomorrow." But Parkyakarkus went out hearing the pure joy of an audience's response.
In a 1991 interview, Albert Brooks said of his father, "The interesting thing to me was that he finished. He could have died in the middle. He could have done it on the way over there. But he didn't. He finished. And he was as good as he'd ever been in his life."

Parkyakarkus was honored on Hollywood's Walk of Fame.

I haven't posted an illustration in a while. Here's one I did last week.

Chung Ling Soo was the stage name of American magician William Robinson. He changed his name to Chung Ling Soo to add an air of foreign mysticism to his act. The name was a variation of a real Chinese magician's name - Ching Ling Foo - and he performed many of the tricks that Foo had made famous.
Chung Ling Soo maintained his role as a Chinese man scrupulously, keeping in character even off-stage. He never spoke onstage and always used an interpreter when he spoke to journalists. Only his friends and a few other magicians knew the truth. (A similar character was briefly featured in the 2006 film "The Prestige".)
Soo's most famous trick was known as "Condemned to Death by the Boxers" (as in The Boxer Rebellion ). In this trick Soo's assistants — sometimes dressed as Boxers — took two guns to the stage. Several members of the audience were called on the stage to mark a bullet that was loaded into one of the guns. When the gun was fired at Soo, he seemed to catch the bullets from the air and drop them on a plate he held before him. In some variations he pretended to be hit and spit the bullet onto the plate. Actually, Soo palmed the bullets, hiding them in his hand during their examination and marking. The muzzle-loaded guns were rigged such that the gunpowder charge fired in the chamber and the bullet would drop into a chamber below the barrel. The bullet in fact never left the gun.
Soo was performing in London, on March 23, 1918. Soo had not cleaned the gun properly. Over time, the gap that allowed the bullet to drop out of the barrel into the chamber slowly built up a residue from the build-up of gunpowder. The bullet remained in the barrel and the gun was fired in the normal way. The bullet hit Soo in the chest. "Oh my God.", he said, "Something's happened. Lower the curtain." It was the first (and last) time in 19 years that William "Chung Ling Soo" Robinson had spoken English in public.

Joe Flynn almost made his motion picture debut in Alfred Hitchcock's Rear Window, however his scene was left on the cutting room floor. But after a run of bit parts in movies and TV through the 1950s and early 1960s, Joe's career took off. He enjoyed major success as Captain Binghamton, the spoiler to Ernest Borgnine's schemes in McHale's Navy, including two theatrical spin-offs. He was also featured in a number of Disney live-action comedies, including three in which he played perpetually agitated Dean Higgins of Medfield College. Joe's comedic talents were in high demand for sitcoms, films and commercials through the 60s and early 70s. In the early 1970s, Flynn was one of the leaders of a Screen Actors Guild group that sought a more equitable distribution of TV residual payments.
In the early summer of 1974, Joe had broken his leg just after completing his voice-over work on the Disney animated movie The Rescuers. Alone one afternoon, he waded into his backyard swimming pool. Joe suffered a heart attack. Hours later, his family found his lifeless body at the bottom of the pool, held down by the weight of his wet and waterlogged leg cast. He was 49 years old.
How prophetic was McHale's nickname for Captain Binghamton — "Old Leadbottom".

Everyone on this earth has felt some kind of unsubstantiated prejudice. At some point in their lives, everyone —the cashier at Target, Michael Douglas, the woman who takes your picture for your new driver's license, The Pope— dislikes someone for a stupid reason. If you say "Oh no. Not me.", then you're prejudice and a liar.
In the weeks leading up to the recent presidential election, I have witnessed plenty of prejudice. Most people believe that everyone thinks like they do. It's amazing the things that total strangers will say to you just because you "look like they do". People loudly make the most racist comments and think nothing of it. While my wife was getting a manicure, a woman publicly expressed her concern about having a black president. Even Republican vice-presidential candidate Sarah Palin hinted at it.
That fact never concerned me at all. I had another concern.
Barack Obama is 47 years old, one week older than I am. In history books, in movies, on money, presidents are old guys. From the powdered wigs and mutton chops, the country's leaders have always been stodgy, old windbags. I can imagine the fear my parents' generation felt when they saw this inexperienced kid mounting a campaign for president! Prior to the election, I asked my father-in-law how he felt about the possibility of having a 47 year-old in the White House. I said "You don't think a 47 year-old can back a car out of your driveway, let alone run the country." Honestly, a president my own age didn't sit too well with me either.
Until my 21 year-old son put it into perspective.
He said "What have old white guys ever done for you?" I pondered the question. I answered, "Well, they've criticized my work, talked down to me, lied to me, gone back on their word, pushed me around, exhibited incompetence in the workplace, screwed up the economy and gave convoluted and incoherent answers to questions."
My son then asked, "What have black guys your own age done for you?" I thought about that question. I answered, "They have been pleasant, funny, helpful and shown mutual and professional respect."
He looked at me with that look.

I hope Barack Obama takes that driveway at ninety miles an hour.

With The 2008 Philadelphia Phillies headed to their first World Series in fifteen years, I can only think of my father. My father died the day The Phillies won the 1993 National League pennant. This would be the Phillies' first trip to the World Series since their loss to The Baltimore Orioles ten years earlier. He didn't live to see the team that went "from worst to first" — his team— go on to play their hearts out against The Toronto Blue Jays. He didn't get to see the longest game in World Series history, most total runs scored in a single World Series game, and most runs scored by a losing team in a World Series game. He didn't get to hear about the death threats made to Phillies closer Mitch "Wild Thing" Williams. He especially didn't get to see Joe Carter's walk-off home run. I believe that had my father lived, that would have killed him.
My father was the typical Phillies fan. He loved them when they were winning. After a Phillies win, he would smile and pump his fist, proclaiming "All the way, baby! All the way to the World Series." When they were losing, he would snap the TV off in the fifth inning and grumble "Bums! They're bums!"
My father was a simple guy who led a simple life. He was born in 1926 and was raised by his father, a bigot in the truest sense of the word, who my mother called "the dumbest man ever to walk this planet". And by his mother, a stubborn, die-hard, Nixon-loving Republican, who my mother said "was too mean to die". Unfortunately, my mother was right. My grandmother outlived my mother by four years and my father by two. His simple pleasure was watching his Phillies. My father grew up watching and loving the Phillies. He loved to tell the story about how he cut school to go to a Phillies game. He saw a no-hitter and, because he was supposed to be in school, couldn't tell anyone that he was there. Well, my father also liked to make s*** up. It's a great story, but Chick Fraser pitched a no-hitter for the Phillies in 1903 and they didn't have another until Jim Bunning's gem on Father's Day 1964.
My father took my brother to Phillies games at Connie Mack Stadium. My mom and I would stay home and listen to the game on the radio. When I was old enough, my father took all of us to beautiful new Veterans Stadium. My father worked for local supermarket chain Pantry Pride and would get free tickets from his suppliers. My family would usually sit in the Oscar Mayer field box — about ten feet from first base. I remember during one game against The San Francisco Giants, shortstop Chris Spier threw a ball to first about twelve feet over the head of Giants' 6-foot 4-inch firstbaseman Willie McCovey. McCovey looked at Spier in disbelief and my father said to me "He was throwing that ball to you!"
My father cheerfully related stories about Richie Ashburn and the "Whiz Kids" (the 1950 Phillies). He remembered with contempt the Phillies' infamous 1964 ten-game season-ending collapse. Of course, he beamed when Tug McGraw struck out Kansas City's Willie Wilson to win their one and only World Series in 1980.
Sure, the Phils made it to post-season a few more times in the early 80s, but they ultimately suffered some lean years. My father suffered right along with them, cursing them all they way.
I can still picture my father settling down in his chair to watch a Phillies game. He had a Tastykake Chocolate Junior and the biggest f****** glass of chocolate milk you ever saw. To one side there were a few packs of Viceroy cigarettes, which he would run through by the bottom of the third inning. He'd fall asleep by the fifth and wake up in the bottom of the ninth, in time to catch my mom attempting to change the channel. "I was watching that!" he would state indignantly.
Last night, as my wife, my son and I watched the Fightin' Phils stomp the Los Angeles Dodgers right into the ground of Dodgers Stadium, I couldn't help but think of my father. I think my son was channeling my father when he said "I can't believe those b******* are going to the World Series!"
Well, Dad, it's been fifteen years coming.

On Tuesday, I saw this girl on the train.

Jerzy Kosinski walked a fine, sometimes blurred, line between bullshitter and storyteller. Kosinski was born Josek Lewinkopf in Poland in 1933. As a child during World War II, he avoided the Nazis by using a false identity. He lived with a Roman Catholic Polish family in eastern Poland under the name, Jerzy Kosinski, an assumed name given to him by his father. A Roman Catholic priest issued him a forged baptismal certificate. In 1957, Kosinski emigrated to the United States by forging letters from Polish authorities guaranteeing his loyal return, which were needed for leaving the country at that time. Once in the United States, he graduated from Columbia University. He was a lecturer at Yale, Princeton, Davenport University, and Wesleyan. In 1965, he became an American citizen.
His 1965 book The Painted Bird garnered mixed reviews. A story of a child during the Holocaust, Kosinski always insisted it was based on his own experience. However, when the book was translated and published in Poland, the family he had lived with took great exception to the abuse that was described in detail. Kosinski claimed "poetic license".
In August 1969, Kosinski was invited, by his friend Wojciech Frykowski, to a small get-together in Los Angeles. Coming from New York, Kosinski's luggage was lost by the airline. He phoned Frykowski, told him of this mishap and explained he would have to miss the party. The party was given by Sharon Tate and everyone there was murdered by intruders under the orders of Charles Manson.
He won the National Book Award in 1969 for Steps. In 1975, Chuck Ross, a Los Angeles freelance writer conducted an experiment with Steps by sending 21 pages of the book to four publishers under the pseudonym Erik Demos. The book was turned down by all of them including Random House (which originally published Steps) and Houghton Mifflin (which published three of Kosinski’s other novels). His 1971 book Being There was made into an Academy Award nominated film starring Peter Sellers.
A 1982 Village Voice article accused Kosinski of plagiarism. The article alleged that a great deal of Kosinski's work was lifted from Polish manuscripts, virtually unknown by American readers. Kosinski always maintained that he loved to tell outrageous lies, particularly to the rich, intellectual and famous. They were so eager to be entertained, he explained, that they willingly suspended disbelief, and they were so confident of their superiority that they deserved to be played for fools. The truth of the Village Voice charges remained a matter of debate.
In addition to his writing, Kosinski appeared 12 times on The Tonight Show during 1971-73, posed half-naked for a New York Times Magazine cover photograph by Annie Leibovitz in 1982, and presented the Oscar for screenwriting in 1982. He also played the role of a Bolshevik revolutionary in Warren Beatty's film Reds.
On May 3, 1991, despondent over a prolonged period of writer's block, coupled with an irregular heartbeat as well as severe physical exhaustion, Kosinski took a fatal dose of barbiturates and washed it down with a rum and Coke. He then twisted a plastic shopping bag around his head and taped it shut around his neck. He was found dead in the bathtub in his New York apartment.