"A baby is an alimentary canal with a loud voice at one end and no responsibility at the other. " Several evenings ago, there was a family dinner at my in-law's house. My wife and I attended, along with my wife's younger brother, his wife and two daughters, ages... um... somewhere between four and eight... or something close to that. Also on the guest list were my wife's cousin, her husband and two young sons, both in the approximate age range of my nieces. My thirty-year-old niece was there too, but since she is relatively well-behaved and doesn't fit into the "child" category anymore, she will merit merely
this mention in the story.
Dinner proceeded like most dinners, with cross-table conversation punctuated by clinking glasses, rattling flatware and my father-in-law rolling his eyes in exasperation and saying, "I can't hear you." As usual, the children picked, uninterested, at their meals and bolted from the table early while the adults lingered over their plates. My eldest niece (hmmm!
Two mentions!) stealthily began the preliminary clearing of the table to ready it for dessert. The living room, adjacent to the dining room, came alive with the unruly loudness of four rambunctious young cousins. The noise settled slightly after a visit by one of the parents — impatiently prompted by my father-in-law. Still, the muffled sounds of children's voices could be heard, though no actual words could be discerned.
The hushed tones from the living room, it would soon be revealed, was my niece (not the thirty-year old. Jeez!
Three mentions!) recounting the legend of Bloody Mary for the benefit of her cousin. The tale of Bloody Mary, for those who never attended camp, never attended a public school or was never a kid surrounded by other kids, is a word-of-mouth ghost story. Although it has various origins and numerous colloquial nuances, the basic story remains. The evil spirit of a woman of undetermined background can be invoked by facing a mirror in a darkened room (usually the claustrophobic confines of a bathroom) and reciting her name — "Bloody Mary" — a specific number of times (anywhere from three to a hundred, depending on whose giving the instructions). My niece, at eight years of age, is a voracious reader, an avid TV and movie junkie and, just like her father at that age, a budding horror fan. Unfortunately, most children are scared shitless by things of that nature, and much to her delight, her slightly older yet very impressionable boy cousin was no exception. And judging by the sly smile spread across her lips, she knew that would be the result.
As the evening wound down, my wife's cousin rounded up her family and, as all good mothers are prone to do, insisted that her children visit the bathroom before the long drive home. Her older boy, the recently spooked one, reacted as though he was just asked to ingest a healthy serving of cockroach and broccoli casserole. His eyes widened in terror and his feet remained firmly planted as his mother directed him towards the small powder room just off the dining room. "No!," he shrieked, his face growing flush, then pale. His parents exchanged bewildered glances. The poor boy shook with real fear as he protested any persuasion to get him to enter that bathroom. My mother-in-law, my father-in-law, his mother and his father (okay, maybe not his father so much) tried to reason with the terrified child, as his younger brother danced with indifferent joy, revelling in the fact that the journey home was being temporarily delayed. "There's nothing to be afraid of!," his mother said, "It's just a bathroom." My father-in-law suggested they t
This is from my 2006 sketchbook — my first sketchbook after a long hiatus from drawing.
John Belushi — a more fearsome samurai there never was.
This is my second illustration for this challenge. Mrs. Pincus made the suggestion for this version and I thought it was a good idea — despite my dislike for Norman Rockwell’s work.
Pinkie by Thomas Lawrence, a delicate portrait of eleven-year old Sarah Barrett Moulton and
Blue Boy by Thomas Gainsborough, a portrait of a young man believed to be Jonathan Buttall, the son of a wealthy hardware merchant, were purchased by American railway pioneer Henry Edwards Huntington and displayed opposite each other in his private collection at, what is now, The Huntington Library in San Marino, California.
Since their chance pairing in the early 1920s, many gallery visitors have mistakenly attributed the two painting to the same artist. In reality,
Blue Boy depicts a young man in period costume from one hundred and fifty years earlier and
Pinkie is a contemporary painting (for 1794) of a young girl dressed appropriately for the late eighteenth century. In addition, the paintings were completed twenty-five years apart. The actual identity of
Blue Boy remains a mystery, but years of research points to young Buttall as the most likely model.
Pinkie was commissioned by the grandmother of Sarah Barrett Moulton, aunt of poet Elizabeth Barrett Browning, although young Sarah passed away just a year after the painting's completion.
William Wilson, author of
The Los Angeles Times Book of California Museums, calls them "the Romeo and Juliet of Rococo portraiture".
To break up the monotony of shots of sun-tanned tourists on cruise ships and Anthony Bourdain’s smoke-filled visits to little known gourmet eateries, the Travel Channel debuted
Bizzare Foods with Andrew Zimmern in 2007. Andrew is a chef, a food critic and, most important, a daring gourmand. He’s a likable and entertaining guy and, for a time, I enjoyed watching the show.
The premise of the show is simple. Andrew travels to a specific country, meets some locals, gets them to cook up a batch of native specialties and Andrew eats ‘em — no questions asked. And let me tell you, Andrew has eaten some pretty weird stuff in the show’s five seasons. In early episodes of the show, Andrew happily scarfed down balut (a fertilized duck egg with a duck embryo inside), a still-beating frog’s heart, fermented whale blubber, lamb’s tongue and eye, assorted insects and various internal and external parts of chickens that are usually dropped down a garbage disposal.
As the seasons rolled on, a pattern seemed to develop. I became very aware of Andrew’s affinity for the reproductive organs of masculine members of the edible animal kingdom. It was very obvious that Andrew loved a good pair of cojones at chow-time. On outings to local marketplaces, Andrew always questioned butchers about the availability of Rocky Mountain oysters or, as they were called in the episode filmed in Spain - criadillas. Extended segments of subsequent shows featured a smiling and anxious Andrew stuffing bollocks into his maw like movie popcorn. Happy waitresses or humble farmers would present platters overflowing with steamed and deep-fried delicacies — like calf’s brains or jellied moose nose — but Andrew, although grateful, would eye the kitchen, hopeful for a big bowl of balls. Soon, Bizarre Foods got boring.
The novelty of Bizarre Foods eventually wore off and I started looking elsewhere for entertainment from my cable television provider. Frankly, I wanted to watch a guy visit Taiwan and gobble testicles for an hour, I’d watch gay Asian porn.
“And we’ll go lifting weights, twelve ounces at a time.”
— Antifreeze by Wammo, as recorded by The Asylum Street Spankers.
Hear the whole song
HERE on the josh pincus is crying blog.
Mildred Ratched, the sadistic tyrant who maintained strict order as head administrative nurse at the Oregon State Mental Hospital, in Ken Kesey’s 1962 novel One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest,was the bane of Randle McMuphy’s existence.
Despite his own fate, McMurphy made sure he got his revenge.
More illustrations at my blog
Karen Greenlee in two colors.
(So, I used black. So, I can't follow directions. Sue me.) Read Karen's story
HERE on my blog.
Not for the squeamish.
This is an illustration I did in February 2007, for another illustration blog whose suggested topic was also "communication".
josh pincus is crying
A short letter from one friend to another changes the course of music history.
Read about it
HERE on the josh pincus is crying blog.
Henry Lee Lucas and Ottis Toole... B.F.F.
Read their story
HERE on the josh pincus is crying blog.
(WARNING! Not for the squeamish.)
"Honey? Sweetie? Are you awake?"
Read about Dave Garroway and J. Fred Muggs, the first hosts of the
Today show
HERE on the josh pincus is crying blog.
Read about Buttons the Clown and "how he killed the thing he loved most"
HERE on the josh pincus is crying blog.
I am not a fan of the Olympics. I never have been. I have watched a total of fifteen minutes of the 2010 Winter Olympics.
I watch the highlights in the morning on The Today Show before I go to work. According to NBC's Today Show, there has been no other important or life-changing news in the world except the Winter Olympics. NBC has presented the Olympics less as a sporting event and more as a dramatic television series, playing up stories of injuries and hopes and family loss and aspirations, aiming right for America's heartstrings.
One story this week caught my attention, but for the wrong reason. Twenty-three year old Dutch speed skater Sven Kramer lost his bid for a gold medal in the 10,000 meter program. Despite skating the course in a world record 12 minutes 54 seconds, Kramer was instructed by his long-time coach Gerard Kemkers to cross over into the wrong lane in his seventeenth lap. Kemkers held up and waved a hand-written sign and frantically guided Kramer to an incorrect inside lane. Kramer was disqualified. South Korea's Lee Seung-Hoon, who was in second place, took the gold.
Kramer threw what is commonly called "a shit fit", for which he later apologized. A truly memorable Olympic moment.
When I was five or six, my favorite singer was Allan Sherman. I grew up listening to my parents' Allan Sherman records. They had his first five releases. I knew every lyric to every song. I knew the order of every song on every album. My Mom and Dad roared with laughter at Sherman's songs and laughed even harder at their six year-old mimic. But the funniest thing of all was that I had no clue what Allan Sherman was singing about. I had no idea that these songs were parodies of traditional and popular melodies. I didn't understand the double meanings and intricate wordplay that Sherman worked into each of his songs. I just thought they were funny songs with funny words sung by a funny man with big funny glasses.
When I was older, I remember being embarassed the first time I heard Ponchielli's
Dance of the Hours and sang the familar lyrics of "Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah", thinking it was just an orchestral arrangement of the classic Allan Sherman composition. As the years went on, I heard more and more original versions of songs that Allan Sherman so expertly satirized. And I finally understood why they were funny.
My son grew up listening to a local Philadelphia radio show called
Kids Corner. The host,
Kathy O'Connell regularly plays "You Went The Wrong Way, Old King Louis" and has introduced a new generation to Allan Sherman. Someday, those kids will understand why that song is funny.
Allan Sherman passed away from emphysema just before his 49th birthday.
I visited his grave on August 11, 2008 - my 47th birthday.
When Herbert Khaury was five, his father brought a gramophone to their small New York City apartment. Young Herbert immersed himself in the music of the past. He would spend hours in his room listening to artists like Rudy Vallee, Al Jolson, and Bing Crosby. He began singing and playing the ukulele in his naturally tenor voice. Soon, he entered into a local talent show and sang "You Are My Sunshine" in his newly discovered falsetto voice. It brought the house down. Bitten by the performance bug, Herbert experimented with different stage names like Darry Dover, Vernon Castle, Larry Love, and Judas K. Foxglove. He finally settled on Tiny Tim in 1962 at the suggestion of his manager at the time. In the 1960s, he was seen regularly near the Harvard University campus as a street performer, singing old Tin Pan Alley tunes. His choice of repertoire and his encyclopedic knowledge of vintage popular music impressed many of the spectators. One fan recalled that Tiny Tim's outrageous public persona was a false front belying a quiet, studious personality. "Herb Khaury was the greatest put-on artist in the world.," this admirer said, "Here he was with the long hair and the cheap suit and the high voice, but when you spoke to him he talked like a college professor. He knew everything about the old songs."
Tiny Tim's big break came when he was booked for an appearance on the wildly popular
Rowan and Martin's Laugh-In. Dan Rowan announced that Laugh-In believed in showcasing new talent, and introduced Tiny Tim. Tiny Tim entered, blowing kisses, and sang "Tiptoe Through the Tulips" to Dick Martin. For years, Dick Martin delivered the panicked outburst of "You're not bringing back Tiny Tim, are you?" to Dan Rowan at the threat of a potential surprise visit. Tiny Tim's performance led to many appearances on Jackie Gleason's variety show, The Ed Sullivan Show and Johnny Carson's Tonight Show. Tiny Tim released his first album in 1968, a collection of
Tin Pan Alley classics that were beloved by him as a child.
On a publicity tour in 1969, Tiny Tim met seventeen-year-old Victoria Budinger. She asked for an autograph and Tiny Tim was immediately enamored, although he was twenty years her senior. After several more encounters with "Miss Vicki", as he called her, Tiny Tim announced his engagement on The Tonight Show and Johnny Carson offered to have the wedding televised on his show. The wedding was seen by an estimated 40 million viewers. The cake was seven feet tall, and 10,000 tulips were used as decoration. The couple honeymooned in Bermuda. However, Tiny Tim and Miss Vicki mostly lived apart, and divorced eight years later. (Vicki resurfaced in 2002 as Victoria Lombardi, the girlfriend of convicted murder conspirator
Rabbi Fred Neulander.)
Tiny Tim's popularity began to wane as the years went on. He was a yearly fixture at at "Spooky World," an annual Halloween-themed exposition in Massachusetts, just outside of Boston. He also made frequent appearances on the
Howard Stern radio show in the early 1990s.
While playing "Tiptoe Through the Tulips" at a Gala Benefit at The Woman's Club of Minneapolis on November 30, 1996, Tiny Tim suffered a heart attack on stage. He was led off stage by his third wife, Susan Marie Gardner. She asked him if he was okay. Tiny Tim replied, "No, I'm not!", his final words. He collapsed and died after doctors tried to resuscitate him for an hour and fifteen minutes.
A self-proclaimed deeply religious man, Tiny Tim gave an interview to Playboy Magazine in 1970. In the inter
Despite the on-stage jabs at each other, George Burns and Jack Benny were the best of friends. George Burns hosted several episodes of Jack Benny's radio show in 1943 when Jack was sick with pneumonia.
Jack and George had a running gag in their friendship. George had no problem getting Jack to laugh, but George was always stone-faced in Jack's attempts to do the same. One evening, at a party they were both attending, Jack pulled out a match to light a cigarette. George announced to all, "Jack Benny will now perform the famous match trick!" A bewildered Jack had no idea what Burns was talking about, so he proceeded to strike the match to flame. George observed, "Oh, a new ending!" and Jack collapsed in laughter.
In 1974, Jack Benny was cast in the film version of the Neil Simon play,
The Sunshine Boys. Just prior to filming, Jack was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and was too ill to continue his plans for the movie. He suggested his best friend George Burns take over for him, eventhough George had not appeared in a film since 1939. George went on to win the Best Supporting Actor Oscar in 1975.
Jack Benny passed away in December 1974. George was heartbroken. He tried to deliver one of the eulogies at Jack's funeral, saying, "Jack was someone special to all of you but he was so special to me…I cannot imagine my life without Jack Benny and I will miss him so very much." But, George broke down in tears and had to be helped to his seat. Afterwards, George immersed himself in his work, appearing in ten films before his own death in 1996.
He never got over the death of his best friend.
I was always told not to take candy from strangers. But, for Christ's sake, he's got Charleston Chew and you just don't see them around much.
A group of tigers danced with me
A poem of insanity
One time I ate the letter “G”
A poem of insanity
I fought alone in World War III
A poem of insanity
My arms are where my knees should be
A poem of insanity
I live next door to Brenda Lee
A poem of insanity
They’re watching me with ears that see
A poem of insanity
I built the Bridge at Tappan Zee
A poem of insanity
Above the purple manatee
A poem of insanity
I think about a killing spree
A poem of insanity
And eating crackers with baked brie
A poem of insanity
Once I wrestled big John Wayne
And then I flushed him down the drain
A school of fish I’d entertain
While serving them hot beef chow mein
I thought about a town in Spain
Until I was declared insane
The floor is covered with debris
I see my name on the marquee
I’m introduced by the emcee
But no one hears my constant plea
No one’s here, no one but me
And my poem of insanity
"I am a mystic who is trying to convey the mysteries that have become available to me.”
― Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh
" Your fortune told, dah-ling?"
According to
legend, Catherine the Great of Russia
really loved horses.
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This samurai looks cool!