Monthly Archives: August 2011

Just call me Snoopy

But I really want to know: What are you reading right now? I’ve recently gleaned much pleasure from taking the advice of family and friends on book choices. Always open to suggestions.

OK, I’ll start and you chime in. The Nook is taking a rest while I actually hold a physical book, and this one’s a doozy at 600-some pages in hardback. I picked it up on sale at B & N the other day, and for a celeb bio, it’s just OK. The title — Star: How Warren Beatty Seduced America — is a bit of a reach, isn’t it? I mean, the guy only made a handful of movies to begin with, and he hasn’t been filmed in almost 20 years. Compare that to his contemporaries of the time: Jack Nicholson, Dustin Hoffman, Woody Allen, Clint Eastwood. Hm.

Of his filmography, I’ve seen Bonnie and Clyde, Reds, Shampoo, Heaven Can Wait, Dick Tracy and Bugsy. I saw his breakout film, Splendor in the Grass, years ago, but I don’t remember much about it other than his character, Bud, being a self-absorbed louse. Compared to what the aforementioned actors have accomplished in the same time span (roughly 50 years), I can’t say that I necessarily agree with Beatty’s alleged seduction of the country. Now, seduction of actresses in the country (and the world) — that’s a totally different kettle of fish. If they had an Olympic event for that, shewww…

Still, it’s fascinating how easily he rose to fame, as if the cosmos directed the ascent. And he was an absolute doll to look at, no arguing that point. The fact that he’s been married to the same woman (actress Annette Bening, his first and only wife) since 1992 is admirable, too, especially by Hollywood standards. All that being said, I was a bit disappointed that there is no insight into his present-day life (this was by design and agreement ahead of time), and several of the key players in Beatty’s prior life would not cooperate. That, to me, gives the book a Kitty Kelley-esque flavor, which isn’t the greatest attribute when you’re writing an authorized bio. At least Beatty himself agreed to be interviewed.

Some facts you might find interesting, providing you are A) a classic film buff of any age, B) over 50, or C) either or both:

  1. Henry Warren Beatty is Shirley MacLaine’s little brother. Their surname is actually “Beaty,” the spelling of which Warren altered when too many people were pronouncing his last name “Beet-y.” MacLaine is their mom’s maiden name.
  2. Warren was incredibly difficult to work with on set, mostly due to his exasperating tendency to “think things to death.” More than a few directors wanted to jump off buildings because of Beatty’s constant over-analysis and unrelenting questioning of motivation and line deliveries.
  3. His first Hollywood conquest was the beautiful Joan Collins, whom I believe had just as much in the gorgeous department as Liz Taylor back then. He left her for Natalie Wood, followed by a hundred others, one of which got him into a lot of trouble.

I’m only partway through, so I’ll save my final judgment for the last page. I’m enjoying it well enough, until I decide to download the next installment of The Dresden Files.

So…what are you reading? Give us a title and brief commercial. Maybe I’ll end up reading it, too.

Holy itinerary! Odyssey 2012

Last night, the Thriller and I sat down for our annual early fall Odyssey planning session. I must say we are slightly excited about the voyage.

As usual, some things are still tentative, and we plan to make various unmarked stops to see the countryside, eat at out-of-the-way places, shop at farmer’s markets, walk the beaches, and take in an entirely different aspect of American history. It’ll be totally unlike the 66 or National Parks trips. Fun.

So far, the list of stops includes:

  • Hershey
  • Gettysburg
  • Philadelphia
  • Atlantic City
  • Mystic/Foxwoods, and maybe meet up for lunch with our nephew who lives in Groton, CT
  • Cape Cod
  • Salem (and yes, the Thriller wants to see all the ghostie sites)
  • Portland
  • Bangor
  • Bar Harbor
  • Mt. Washington (NH)
  • Montpelier, VT
  • Fort Ticonderoga (I doesn’t wants to go on the ferry)
  • Syracuse (PK – any great restaurants?)
  • Niagara Falls
  • Toronto
  • Windsor
  • Detroit (it’s tradition: the voyage has to either start or end there)

And the hoarding of pennies begins again. What struck us as odd about this planning session was the drive times. We’re not accustomed to going from one entire state to another in less than two hours. Heh. It’s a good thing, because we were able to plan bigger, see more, and stay longer at some of the stops.

Two rather large-ish omissions you may have noticed: Boston and New York City. There are reasons. I’ve been to Boston, and truthfully, over the past few years (specifically, 2006-2009) my affinity for the city has dwindled. The Thriller didn’t want to drive in Boston, and I can’t blame him, so…out it went. NYC — that’s going to be a trip of its own someday. As many of you know, I’ve been there lots, but never on a “grownup” trip. It’s always been with my choirs, which is fine and always a hoot, but it limits me to the main tourist attractions. I’d like to go to some jazz clubs and hit the Met and spend a whole day shopping and riding the trains to the other boroughs — things I can’t pull off when I have to be responsible for 80 high school students and 20 other adults.

So, now that next summer has been put in the books, it’s time to put the lid on this one. School starts for me in 12 days. Need to put away childish things and start acting all growed up. Bummer…

Happy day to you, fiends!

A great coffee read

As you all know, I have no clue how I get to here or there during my quiet time every morning. All I know is, by the time I’m done, I’m wondering where the hour went. Bummer! Alas, it’s time to get moving today, but not before I tell you a cool story.

I was never much of a David Bowie fan, although I do like “Space Oddity.” The whole Ziggy Stardust thing was boring to me, even back in the early 70s, when men dressing up as wo

men was particularly shocking. But some brows really furrowed when Bowie and his American girlfriend named their baby “Zowie.” Zowie Bowie. Poor kid. Anyway, I read a story about the boy, who is now an award-winning film director named Duncan Jones (Duncan is listed first on his birth certificate, and Jones is actually Bowie’s real surname, but he changed it to avoid confusion with Davy Jones of Monkees fame), and who, shockingly, turned out basically normal, in spite of his then-drug addicted, wild rock star father, and a mother who abandoned him.

The most surprising fact in this enlightening story: Jones went to the College of Wooster (about 30 miles from my house) in an effort to get an education while maintaining anonymity, and graduated with a philosophy degree with almost no one knowing who he was. Whoa.

Anyway, it’s an interesting read for, what’s this? Wednesday morning. Now I’ve run out of things to say about it, which means I have to get to work. Yay.

Duncan Jones photo: Ian West/PA Wire

Cool TV IX

I don’t remember how I got to the Steampunkary site last night, but there you are. And of course, I can’t think of steampunk without thinking of one of my favorite shows from my youth: The Wild, Wild West. I thought Robert Conrad was completely dreamy. Well, that, and the sci-fi flavor made it exciting, and sometimes bizarre. Proof: one episode depicted Jim West (Conrad) having a dream. He went to a waterfront bar to meet a tipster. While there, he’s shot by a mermaid with a blowgun, and wakes up on a ship that’s sunk by an exploding dragon. When he returns, the bar doesn’t exist and he can’t prove anything. Talk about trying to convince the asylum you’re not crazy.

West’s faithful sidekick, Artemus Gordon, was the comic relief, and the pair had the glamorous job of spying on bad guys for president Ulysses Grant during the Civil War. By all comparisons, it was a 19th-century cocktail of James Bond and Batman & Robin, complete with fancy techno-gadgets (fancy for the 1860s, anyway), plenty of criminals gettin’ what’s comin’ to ’em, and West getting the girl. There was always a flavor of the week.

Some neat-o facts, many of which I did not know:

  • Ross Martin, who played Artemus Gordon, was born in Poland and raised in New York City, speaking Yiddish, Polish and Russian. He could lapse into any dialect at the drop of a hat. At the time of his death in 1981 (he suffered a fatal heart attack while playing tennis), he and Conrad were planning a revival of the WWW series. That would have been fantastic.
  • The show was a treasure trove of awesome guest stars: Suzanne Pleshette, Sammy Davis, Jr., Ricardo Montalban, Robert Duvall, Ed Asner and Boris Karloff (of all people). I imagine it was like the Simpsons of its time: everyone wanted a guest spot, just to say they’d done one.
  • The show, which ran from ’65-’69, was not canceled due to poor ratings. Rather, it was pulled because of its violence (unfortunately, necessary to the plot). Network brass felt squeamish about putting so much killing on TV when there was so much killing going on in the war. Hmm. Imagine that. Choosing humanity over profit. Psh.
  • The beautiful black locomotive car the pair used as their lair/mode of transportation in the pilot was also the Hooterville Cannonball in CBS’s hillbilly comedy, Petticoat Junction. Ha, love it.
  • As you know, all TV series episodes have titles. In WWW, the title of each of the 104 episodes began with the words, “The Night Of…”

I also loved the opening animated sequence and theme song.

One thing’s for sure. The movie ain’t the series. Ick. And yes, I’m one of those die-hards who just couldn’t make the jump from Robert Conrad to Will Smith. No comparison in my old, musty book.

Hey, is it Monday already? Yipes. Time to pound feet on the basement floor. Yay.

Since I’m squawking…

Yesterday, while listening to Sirius Radio’s “70s on 7” channel in the car, I heard what I think might be one of the worst pop songs ever: “Deanie” by Shaun Cassidy. No joke. Melody went all over the place, cloying lyrics…Lawd.

So, help me add to the list here. What are the absolute worst pop songs you’ve ever heard? Here are the rules:

  1. The songs on your list can be rotten for any reason (ugly melody, stupid lyrics, annoying singer, etc.)
  2. Let’s not include songs that you originally liked, but were played to the point of you wanting to shoot yourself. Like, say, “Don’t Worry, Be Happy,” for instance. I liked it when it first aired, but after the millionth time…
  3. Stick to hits. For instance, “Friday” by Rebecca Black is a really bad song, but it didn’t hit the Top 40 charts. It was more of a meme than a song, actually.

So here we go.  Ready, steady, list!

Worst Pop Hits of All Time
(In No Particular Order)

  • Lady Lady Lay – Bob Dylan <–in the top five of my list of Most Overrated Artists Ever (but that’s another post)
  • Burnin’ Love – Elvis Presley (“a hunk-a hunk-a”…really?)
  • Little Willy – The Sweet
  • Havin’ My Baby – Paul Anka
  • Babe – Styx (please, please, PLEASE, fuh cripesake, transpose it down a minor third)
  • Playground in My Mind – Clint Holmes (look it up, seriously)
  • Dance Hall Days – Wang Chung
  • Lean On Me – Club Nouveau (not because of the song, but because the singers and producer hadn’t a righteous clue what “that’s a quarter-step sharp” means)
  • Safety Dance – Men Without Hats
  • Sweet Child of Mine – Guns ‘N Roses
  • Escape (The Pina Colada Song) – Rupert Holmes
  • Seasons in the Sun – Terry Jacks
  • I Would Do Anything For Love – Meatloaf (sorry, he’s just bad)
  • Time Passages – Al Stewart
  • Mmm, Mmm, Mmm, Mmm – Crash Test Dummies (yes, boys, you sound like James Hetfield, now go away)
  • If I Could Turn Back Time – Cher
  • Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep – Middle of the Road (I am not making this up)
  • It’s a Heartache – Bonnie Tyler

Truthfully, I could list hundreds. But I don’t want to spoil anyone else’s fun. :-) Gofrit!