Showing posts with label Personal stuff. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Personal stuff. Show all posts

Friday, September 15, 2017

Holding pattern


Since I’m at the halfway point before Thrilling Days of Yesteryear makes its official move to the brand-spanking-new WordPress blog in October, I thought I’d post this to let you know why TDOY went silent this week.

I had planned to have a few reviews up but the post I penciled in for Monday got pushed to the side due to a Radio Spirits liner notes project I was trying to complete.  That activity took place all weekend, the time I utilize to plan what will go up on the blog for the week.  With my RS assignment completed, I had to further postpone posts because of that Irma thing (we were a lot luckier than some of our fellow Georgians in that our electricity didn’t go on vacation during the storm…but it did come and go a few times, interfering with the movie I was trying to watch) …and then a pair of doctor appointments (for the patriarch of Rancho Yesteryear, mi padre) ate up some more time.  I finally said ta heck wid it and vowed to get back to the blogging thing Monday.

In the meantime, I’ve been doing a little hammering-and-nailing at the new site; there are close to 300 classic TDOY posts up there now, some with new photos added and a few tweaks and edits here and there.  I’ve also been doing a little pruning here at the old blog; I’ve made some editorial decisions about what to transfer and what to destroy—so if it looks as if the old blog has lost a little weight that’s the reason.  It’s simply going to be too Herculean a task to transfer everything to the new site, and some past posts will have to sit in the waiting room (most appropriate in light of the medical appointments this week) while others will simply vanish into the blogosphere, accessible only for those patient to sift through archive.org.

So that’s how things stand—come back by next week and I’ll have a thing or two to bend your ear about.  Have a great weekend, cartooners!

Thursday, August 17, 2017

Please permit us to pause…


I really hate to put the brakes on the ol’ blog while I was going great guns (more or less), but it’s going to be silent for the rest of the week.  My sister Kat is in town, and she brought along with her my favorite nephew…who’ll be occupying much of my free time here at Rancho Yesteryear.  (Kat and Mom left him with Dad and I while Mom is at her doctor’s appointment….so the old man and I are gonna get Davis a tattoo.)  Normal blogging will resume Monday, so until then—make the most of your weekend, cartooners!

Wednesday, August 9, 2017

Rage against the (Windstream) machine


The fields went fallow on the blog for nearly a week for one simple reason: our internet provider is terrible, and isn’t planning on improving their behavior anytime soon.  I’m not shy about naming these poltroons; we get our crappy service from Windstream, and in a just world the company would be brought up before a tribunal to answer for their crimes…and once found guilty by a not-at-all-impartial judge of my own choosing, sentenced to one of those islands where they used to quarantine lepers, plague victims, and other unfortunates of society.  I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Windstream—at least in my neck of the woods—has been wedded to DISH, since they both deserve one another.

The trouble started around 4:30pm last Wednesday, when I noticed the little yellow triangle symbol superimposed over the internet connectivity icon on my laptop.  This meant that the system was down, and though I was mildly annoyed (I was working on a post for the Radio Spirits blog) I decided to be cool and wait to see if the problem would be quickly worked out.  Two-and-a-half hours later, and still no internet, I phoned Windstream with that sinking feeling in my stomach pit that they were going to make me run what I call “the Internet Obstacle Course.”  (This is where I’m required to unplug and re-plug cables, the modem, etc.—which I wouldn’t have a problem with except my mother insists that they be relegated to a space behind the TV (an area where a person of my girth has difficulty accessing) because she doesn’t like the sight of wires.

Before I called Windstream, I ran the Course ahead of time to make sure the problem wasn’t on my end.  It wasn’t, and I had suspected as such.  So, once I’d made it past their infuriating phone tree, I explain to the customer service representative that the system is out.  She’s convinced the problem is on my end, since no one else has complained, and lets me know she’s writing up a ticket so a technician can fix the problem.  He’ll be there Saturday.

I’m ticked off at this, because that means we’ll be offline for two entire days…and I won’t be able to get this post done.  I phoned my editor at Radio Spirits, and she lets me know that if I can get the piece to her Monday morning (assuming the tech fixes the problem on Saturday) she’ll give it a quick read, make the necessary changes, and have it back at me so I can schedule the post.

I should have known the technician wasn’t going to be at Rancho Yesteryear Saturday.  Oh, we got a phone call from Windstream at 11:15am informing us he’d be there between 11:15 and 3pm, but I end up calling them back at 3:05 to find out that the problem is worse than they originally estimated and that we may not be back up until Monday morning.  Monday afternoon, I’m having to call them back to find out where the hell the guy is, and they’re telling me it’s not going to happen until the next day.  I gave the person a bit of pranging about this, and they finally acquiesce to my demands, promising the work will be done by five that day.  When I wound up having to call back at 5:05pm to ask why they insist on lying to me every time I phone, we got a call on our other cell phone line…telling us the technician will be at the house between 8am and 12 noon.

Substitute "Windstream" for "AT&T" and you'll get the idea.
Since confession is good for the soul, I’ll come clean here.  I have a bit of a temper.  But I’m even-keeled for the most part—the only time I start approaching Hulk status is when someone can’t be straight with me.  They couldn’t be forthright and tell me that the problem with our internet connectivity was that some idiot installed some switches wrong, and it apparently took them all that time to find out just exactly what that individual screwed up.  My mother ran into the technician as she headed out the door Tuesday morning as he was just pulling up.  I had discovered by that time that our internet was back, but he wanted to check on our status.  He told her the story of what happened (I believe I was asked by both my parents not to come into contact with him for fear that something terrible might happen) and she replied matter-of-factly, “That person needs to be fired.”  The technician, looking out for his own, tried to explain that “it’s not his fault” and Mom just dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

That’s the sordid story of why there’s been nothing new to read on the blog for over a week, and because I had to get caught up with some other assignments there may not be any new material until next Monday (I wanted to at least get a new Crime Does Not Pay up—I’ll try my best, but my eye appointment tomorrow may interfere with that).  If your situation is like mine in that Windstream is your only option for internet access…I feel your pain, brother.  If you’re looking for a provider and are considering Windstream…don’t.  Run fast, run far.

Monday, July 24, 2017

Book Review: Playboy Laughs: The Comedy, Comedians, and Cartoons of Playboy


“Since the launch of Playboy magazine in 1953, two elements have been remarkably consistent: the first is the celebration of nubile, female flesh and the second is Playboy’s involvement in the music scene.  The Playboy experience was never just about sex but about lifestyle, and music—particularly the finest jazz, a personal passion of Hefner’s—has always been an essential component of that lifestyle.”  So states the biography of author Patty Farmer, acknowledged to be the expert on the entertainment side (performers, television, etc.) of the legendary magazine that introduced the phrase “I only read it for the articles” into the American lexicon.  Farmer chronicled “the rise, history, and cultural impact of the Playboy empire, including the magazine, clubs, music festivals, and television shows” in her book Playboy Swings—published in 2015 after the success of The Persian Room Presents (2013), a history of the Plaza Hotel’s famed nightclub.

Lenny Bruce
Patty’s follow-up to Swings—which will be released August 3—is Playboy Laughs, a book that concentrates on the comedic side of Hefner’s empire.  (You don’t need to be familiar with the earlier book to enjoy Laughs, because there are some stories repeated here.)  I should be honest—when I requested a review copy (many thanks to my Facebook compadre Jeff Abraham at Jonas PR, who slipped me the freebie) of this book I thought it was going to be a little out of my wheelhouse at Thrilling Days of Yesteryear.  I’m pleased to admit that I was stupendously wrong, for Farmer’s exhaustive history of the funny men who entertained appreciative audiences since the first Playboy Club opened in Chicago in February of 1960 is crammed with wonderful anecdotes about such comedy greats like Joe E. Lewis and Lenny Bruce, and first-hand accounts from stand-up practitioners as Professor Irwin Corey, Phyllis Diller, Tom Dreesen, Jackie Gayle, Shecky Greene, Dick Gregory, Joan Rivers, and Larry Storch.  Laughs is one of the best books I’ve read on stand-up since devouring my pal Kliph Nesteroff’s amazing The Comedians: Drunks, Thieves, Scoundrels and the History of American Comedy.

Milton Berle
Playboy Laughs is one of those books where you want to keep a notepad nearby while reading it so you can jot down anecdotes and relay them back to like-minded friends interested in the history of laughter.  One of the anecdotes that leapt out at me concerns “The Thief of Bad Gags” himself, Milton Berle—who had a bit of a reputation of being a putz where his contemporaries were concerned.  Comedian Lou Alexander relates that when he was just starting out in the business, “Uncle Miltie” took an interest in him and his act, telling him: “I’m going to come to your show once a week and I’m going to heckle you, but before the show I’ll go to your dressing room and tell you what I’m going to say.  This way you can think of things to say back to top me.”

That’s what this great man did for me.  He came in once a week and heckled me, and I’d have all the toppers—the comebacks—and I’d kill him.  He’d put on this act: “Look at this kid, he’s got me again.”  And after a while, maybe two months, it was all over town that there’s some schmucky kid killing Milton Berle at the Interlude.  I loved him.  I loved Berle.  We became very good friends. He was a great guy, a very kind, sweet man.

The Vagabonds
Another memorable passage from the book that has a tenuous connection to a recent post here at TDOY concerns the comedic vocal group known as The Vagabonds, who certainly made their presence known in the 1946 feature film People are Funny.  I’m not quite as enthusiastic as Farmer about the aggregation (she describes their People antics as “scene-stealing”—we’ll just have to agree to disagree on this one) but she did provide me with some information with which I was not aware, in that the quartet were favorites on the nightclub circuit (they even owned and operated nightspots in Frisco and Miami) and made quite a few appearances on shows telecast during the medium’s Golden Age (The Colgate Comedy Hour, Ed Sullivan, etc.).  “With the Vagabonds, even tempo was funny,” she writes.  “Sometimes they’d go so fast they left the audience breathless; other times, they’d drag out a song at such a snail’s pace that listeners would sweat with suspense.  It was as if they were comic masters, always carefully calibrating their punch lines.  And of course, that is exactly what they were.”

Jack Cole's famous comic book creation
Farmer’s wonderful stories about the people and personalities that either started their careers at the Playboy Clubs or benefited from those venues after already establishing themselves comprises a goodly portion of Playboy Laughs…but there are also chapters dedicated to those artists who created the cartoons that dotted the pages of the magazine.  One of particular interest to me was a nice little history on Jack Cole—which I’ll need to set up here.  I knew of Cole because I owned a copy of Jules Feiffer’s The Great Comic Book Heroes as a kid (coincidentally, Feiffer also contributed cartoons to the magazine and has some wonderful stories in Laughs) as a kid and knew Jack as the creator of Plastic Man.  My father, on the other hand, was more familiar with Cole’s post-Plastic Man career as—you guessed it—a prolific contributor to Playboy.  (I admit—my opinion of the old man gained a few points that day after finding out he used to read the mag.)  Other cartoonists discussed in the pages of Patty’s book include Doug Sneyd, Shel Silverstein, Dean Yeagle, Arnold Roth (whose work I knew from TV Guide—his stories about assisting Harvey Kurtzman and Will Elder on Little Annie Fanny are priceless), and Al Jaffee (the legendary MAD artist was a contributor, too).

Hugh Hefner and author Patty Farmer
Farmer does a bit of a sidetracking with histories on Playboy artists like (Alberto) Vargas and Olivia (De Berardinis); a little beyond the scope of a book on both humor and cartoons, in my opinion…but it won’t detract from your enjoyment—and it’s always nice learning about something you didn’t previously know.  As someone who actually did read Playboy for the articles (I had a subscription while I was in college—born to be mild, baby) I enjoyed Patty’s concluding take on Hugh Hefner (an informative history on the man and his pajamas) because anyone who put as much time, money, and effort to restore the Basil Rathbone-Nigel Bruce Sherlock Holmes films my mother loves to watch is aces in my book.  Classic movie fans might get a kick out of this observation of Hef in Playboy Laughs: “At ninety, he carries on the tradition he started decades ago of hosting weekly dinners followed by movies.  One night a week is set aside for a current film, another for a classic film noir, and sometimes a third is added for one of his favorite Chaplin movies.”  Gooble, gobble, one of us!

Friday, June 30, 2017

“…the problem here is that...my little brother, this morning, got his arm caught in the microwave, and uh...my grandmother dropped acid and she freaked out, and hijacked a school bus full of...penguins, so it's kind of a family crisis...”


I hadn’t planned to use the “Harold Lloyd More to Come” screen grab so soon but…there will be no Crime Does Not Pay this week.  A combination of outside interference (mi madre wanted me to accompany her to Kroger Nation so I could lift and tote several cases of bottled water) and just plain laziness (my old friend!) conspired to fill me with overwhelming ennui—so I decided to shelve it and do it next week.  (Blog godmother S.Z. is probably wreaking havoc as you read this, stealing high schoolers’ lunch money and selling reverse mortgages to seniors.)  But fret not: Thrilling Days of Yesteryear will return next week with…stuff.  Have a great weekend, cartooners!

Wednesday, June 28, 2017

“Heeere's Johnny!”


“And I hope when I find something that I want to do and I think you would like and come back, that you'll be as gracious in inviting me into your home as you have been…I bid you a very heartfelt good night.”  Those final words rung down the curtain on Johnny Carson’s thirty-season stint as host of NBC’s The Tonight Show (or The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson, as it was officially known), when “The King of Late Night” officially retired on May 22, 1992.  Sadly, Carson never returned to TV save for a small vocal contribution (as himself) on an episode of The Simpsons and a cameo on Late Show with David Letterman in 1994; he left this world for a better hosting gig on January 23, 2005 at the age of 79.  (Correction: I wrote too soon; Mark Murphy e-mailed me to let me know that Johnny also did a monologue on a 1993 NBC special feting Peacock institution Bob Hope on his 90th birthday.  Thanks, Mark!)

Johnny...we'd hardly know ye.
I’m a little fuzzy on the exact time frame, but I remember I was on my way home from my night auditor gig at The Landmark Inn a year or two before Carson’s passing.  I took a taxi that day (I didn’t want to wait for the bus), and the cabbie was listening to a couple of radio jocks holding forth about how The Tonight Show just wasn’t the same since Johnny’s departure and that Jay Leno couldn’t carry Carson’s jockstrap.  One of the hosts—who claimed to know people who know people who know Carson—explained that Johnny had not made a return to the small screen because…well, he kind of danced around the reason but the implication was that the former talk-show host had really “let himself go” (see photo at left).  Then came the observation that he (the jock) would rather watch an obese, bloated Carson drooling all over himself than that poltroon Leno any day of the week.  I’m not proud of this—but I laughed like a hyena at his remark.

Those of you who get the substation Antenna TV in your area are aware that they added reruns of Johnny Carson (the retitled Tonight Show) to their schedule in August of 2015 (the shows from 1972 on, since only a handful of the pre-1972 Tonight Shows have survived due to “wiping”), and occasionally a segment surfaces on The Greatest Cable Channel Known to Mankind™ (their presentation, Carson on TCM, went great guns at first before eventually doing a slow vanishing act).  Time Life has released several DVD compilations—notably the 22-disc Johnny and Friends (SRP $199.95), with 61 hours of material—and next Tuesday (July 4) they’ll roll out a new-to-retail DVD collection of nine classic Carson telecasts (on 3 discs—the SRP is $29.95) with the emphasis on appearances by comedians Steve Martin, Robin Williams, and Eddie Murphy.

My good friend Michael Krause at Foundry Communications graciously gifted me with a screener for this upcoming release, which not only features these telecasts in their entirety (the musical guests are often excised from the Antenna TV repeats for copyright reasons) but the original network commercials as well.  This appealed to the old-time radio fan in me (I love to listen to broadcasts that have the commercials intact), though I admittedly only watched one of the shows with commercials (you have the option of watching without—something that I’m sure would please my father if Carson reruns were his particular meat).  That would be the oldest show in this collection, a July 21, 1976 telecast on the disc spotlighting Steve Martin.  For an hour-and-fifteen minutes (the Carson show was a ninety-minute program from 1966 to 1980) I got to reminisce about taking the Nestea plunge and how Heinz ketchup is “slow good” (voiceover by Casey Kasem) …not to mention seeing familiar faces like Betty White (plugging Spray ‘n Wash) and Doris Roberts (a Glade air-freshener commercial—she won a Clio award for those spots).

I cannot come up with the name of the actor playing Doris' husband in this commercial, and it's nagging at me because I've seen him in so many other things.  (It's hell getting old.)

Wild and crazy guy.
In high school, I thought Steve Martin was the funniest man to walk the planet.  I owned all four of his stand-up albums, mimicked all of his routines (“Excuuuuuse me!”), and relished every time he hosted Saturday Night Live.  With the passage of time, however…well, I find myself pondering what the hell I thought was so funny about the guy.  (Now I know why Los Parentes Yesteryear looked at me so strangely…though that may not have entirely been all Martin’s doing.)  His 1976 appearance on Carson features much of his “wild-and-crazy-guy” shtick, and to be honest, I enjoyed the other guests on that particular telecast more—Jimmy Stewart, plugging The Shootist (1976) but also reminiscing about It’s a Wonderful Life (1946), and Karen Black…who seemed to be on some sort of narcotic that night but I’ll be damned if I can figure out what it was.  A May 21, 1982 program brings Steve back along with Sylvester Stallone—both stars plug their current movies (Sly’s Rocky III; Martin’s Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid) but again, because I’m just weird this way, I got more of a kick out of the “Stump the Band” segment…because one of the songs suggested to stymie Tommy Newsome and the NBC Orchestra (Doc Severinsen, amusingly enough, was out of town—performing a concert in my home town of Charleston, WV) was Sunday Driving, a novelty tune recorded by Jerry Lewis.  The last show on the Martin DVD is the most fun: a December 19, 1991 outing that allows Martin to plug Father of the Bride (1991) and it also features one of my favorite funny ladies, Cathy Ladman, along with singer Leon Redbone (performing Christmas Island).

Nice threads, Eddie.
The third disc in this collection highlights three 1982 appearances from Eddie Murphy, who at that time was wowing SNL viewers weekly with his shtick—the July 30th telecast mentions that Murphy is working on his first feature film (the one that put him on the map), 48 HRS.  I’m quite fond of many of Eddie’s movies—48 HRS., Beverly Hills Cop (1984), The Golden Child (1986—don’t think I can’t hear you judging me out there)—and enjoyed many of his SNL characters (prison poet Tyrone Green never failed to make me fall to the floor), but his stand-up always left me stone-faced, particularly the homophobic Honeymooners bit he did in his 1983 HBO TV special Delirious.  (Try explaining it to both of your parents, who decided to watch with me.)  A February 10, 1982 appearance has him starting his routine by encouraging the audience to shout out the N-word…and I don’t mean “Norbit.”  (Edgy!)  If you’re a Murphy devotee, you’ll enjoy seeing the twenty-year-old trading yuks with Johnny on the cusp of Murphy’s phenomenal stardom; his January 1, 1982 debut on the Tonight Show is presented in this collection in its entirety.

Robin Williams, circa 1984.
If you need a solid reason to pick up this collection, the second disc—featuring three shows with the manic Robin Williams as guest—more than justifies the purchase.  Just as I prefer Eddie Murphy in movies, I thought Williams was at his best when he was simply turned loose on The Tonight Show, where his machine-gun stream-of-consciousness would always reduce the host to helpless laughter.  (It’s no surprise that Robin was the guest on the penultimate Carson Tonight Show telecast, along with Bette Midler.)  Williams’ April 3, 1984 appearance allows him to plug what I think is his finest film comedy, Moscow on the Hudson (1984—this and the 1983 movie he did with Walter Matthau, The Survivors, are my favorites) and his co-guest Phyllis Newman reminds the audience multiple times that her husband is lyricist-playwright Adolph Green (something that both Robin and Johnny start to mock after a fashion).  A January 10, 1991 show (with Steve Lawrence) coincides with Robin’s turn in Awakenings (1990); Williams relates the incident where he accidentally hit co-star Robert DeNiro in the nose while filming and it’s hysterical.

Comedy greatness.
The final telecast on this disc is a September 19, 1991 free-for-all that allows Williams (plugging 1991’s The Fisher King) to riff alongside his one-time Mork and Mindy co-star (and acknowledged influence) Jonathan Winters.  Honest to my grandma, I laughed so hard during this show I was literally in tears.  Winters enters the stage wearing a Union uniform (his first words are “We lost the fort—the Indians were sober…we were drunk this time.“) and when Park Overall (of Empty Nest) comes out and asks Johnny “Why is he wearing a Yankee uniform?” Jonathan comes back with “Cause I’m a Yankee—we’re gonna go through Chickamauga twice!”  It is classic comedy, and while I’m not a religious or spiritual individual, I like to think that if there is a better world after this one these two mad geniuses are cutting up in the afterlife to thunderous appreciative laughter and applause.  Thanks again to Michael for the screener—if you’re a fan of Johnny Carson, you’re going to want this one for the DVD shelf.

Addendum: Both the Mayor of Toobworld (Dr. Tobias O'Brien) and member of the TDOY faithful Mark Murphy have identified the actor with Doris Roberts in the Glade commercial as character veteran J.J. Barry.  The blog is grateful for their tireless efforts in small screen research.

Saturday, June 17, 2017

Well—that was easy…


Many thanks to commenter Rick Robinson and a few other Facebook denizens for their moral support during The Great Computer Crisis of 2017.  I took it into Reboot Computer Friday morning—shortly after they opened—and they had the hard drive replaced and ready to rock ‘n’ roll three hours later.  (Same day service, baby!)  If you live in the Classic City (Athens) or in the surrounding area, I’d highly recommend them—we’re probably going to take one of our troublesome laptops in later when we have a few extra shekels.  Thrilling Days of Yesteryear will resume as normal Monday, so make an appointment, hoo-kay?  

Thursday, June 15, 2017

When it rains… (I get wet)


This hasn’t been the best of weeks in recent memory, cartooners.  I was doing a few chores on my desktop computer Monday afternoon when the fershlugginer thing decided it had had enough and whipped out the Dreaded Blue Screen of Death.  I waited until it finished its snit and rebooted…only it wouldn’t reboot.

I shut it down, and later that evening (much later—we’re talking after midnight) I turned it back on to see if it had worked out its issues…and though it seemed to perform much more slowly than it had previously, it eventually returned to the land of the living.  Its visit here, however, was brief; it froze up again that afternoon (dispensing with the Blue Screen) and from that moment on, anytime I tried to resurrect it the computer flatly refused to cooperate.  I tried two resets…nothing.  I ran a series of diagnostic tests, and when it received a failing grade on the hard disk portion of the exam I started getting that pit-of-my-stomach feeling that this was not good.  Against my better judgment, I decided to restore it to its original factory settings (I would have backed up my files, but I couldn’t even get past the “willkommen” login) and danced a gleeful jig when that seemed to do the trick.  My celebratory dance came to a screeching halt when I got an error message that read: “Just between you, me, and the printer, my friend—your hard disk needs repaired or replaced.”

Not the kind of confession that I need at this point in life, by the way…but I will swallow hard and take it in to the computer doctor by the end of this week.  If you were asking yourself by now—“Does this mean that silent movie you were going to review won’t be up today?” the answer is “Affirmative.”  And since the Crime Does Not Pay series that I do each week in this space on Fridays relies heavily on screen grabs…there’ll be a delay in that, too.

However—I am working on some items that will not require the participation of my desktop assistant, and I’ll roll those out next week.  Until that time, be excellent to one another.

Monday, June 12, 2017

Back to the ol’ salt lick


I apologize for the truncation on the blog last week; I had a dandy entry lined up for Thursday’s Silent Movie Spotlight, and because I wasn’t able to produce an entry in TDOY’s weekly examination of the Crime Does Not Pay series, this means that blog godmother S.Z. (World O’Crap alumnus) probably went out and hit up a couple of liquor stores.  (That’s a little Facebook joke, son.)

About a week or so back, I had an appointment with the endocrinologist…and he told me he thought it was kosher to start taking Metformin for my diabetes (he was certain they wouldn’t mess with my kidneys or anything).  Which was a most encouraging thing to hear, because insulin is not cheap.  They ease you into taking the Metformin; you down a pill a day for four days, then increase it to two a day for another four days…and then eventually take three pills a day.  I was two days into the three-pill regimen when I woke up one morning and just didn’t feel right.  I had nausea fit to beat the band, and a lot of light-headed dizziness.

I suspected right off this was due to the Metformin (I did a little research into the side effects…only I had to do this online because my copy of Stacia’s Big Scary Medical Book was apparently repossessed during the 2016 election) but I was also a little concerned because my symptoms eerily mirrored those that occurred during my little misadventure in 2010.  I gave the endocrinologist’s a ring to explain the situation…and they advised me to stop taking the pills immediately, necessitating a return to the insulin.  (An expense I need, by the way, like a moose needs a hat rack.)

So I took a little mini vacation to get the “poison” out of my system, and as such it’s B.A.U. here at the Thrilling Days of Yesteryear blog.  Again, mea culpa for taking so long to give you the heads-up.

Monday, May 29, 2017

One size does not fit all


One of the pitfalls in revisiting TV shows from the past—alluded to in the famous Peter DeVries quote at the top of the blog—is that some series simply aren’t as good as you might have remembered.  I have found this to be the case with many of the cartoons I dutifully watched as a young sprout, though I surmise that this is by design: kids will watch any kind of crappy animation provided there is some semblance of movement.  (Some of these cartoon shows that immediately come to mind are The Mighty Hercules, Cool McCool, and Milton the Monster; on the live-action side, I was disappointed that Sledge Hammer and The Greatest American Hero weren’t as great as when I watched them initially—though I still think Robert Culp’s character on Hero was a 24-karat gem.)

As such, it came as a most pleasant surprise when, after purchasing Square Pegs: The Like, Totally Complete Series…Totally recently at Oldies.com, I watched the show in its entirety (totally) over the weekend and was delighted at how well it still holds up.  (Oldies.com still has a few copies available at $4.98—and these are the original 3-DVD sets that came out in 2008.  The 2-DVD Mill Creek reissue is also available…but for $7.98.   I am nothing if not S-M-R-T when it comes to shopping.)  I was a huge fan of this sitcom during its original run in the 1982-83 season, and was a bit bummed when I learned it was not going to be picked up for another year because I thought it was a bright, funny look at high school angst.  (I suppose, in retrospect, that I should not have been surprised a smart series like Pegs was cancelled too soon…there’s a reason why we call that device “the idiot box.”)

Amy Linker, Sarah Jessica Parker
But on the off-chance that anyone reading this was cryogenically frozen during its original run, Square Pegs was the stirring saga of two young girls entering their freshman year at Weemawee Penitentiary High School: Patty Greene (Sarah Jessica Parker) and Lauren Hutchinson (Amy Linker).  Patty was, according to the write-up TV Guide gave the series in its 1982 Fall Preview issue, “the smart, skinny, nearsighted one” while Lauren was “the one with baby fat and braces.”  The girls wanted nothing more than to “click with the right clique and we can finally have a social life that’s worthy of us,” as viewers were reminded in a voiceover that opened the show each week.  (Patty: “No way—not even with cleavage!”)  “This year we’re going to be popular…even if it kills us,” Lauren assured her pal.  This quest for popularity would prove to be a daunting task.

Jon Caliri, Tracy Nelson
Pourquoi est-ce donc?  (Tish!  I spoke French!)  Well, the girls quickly found themselves at cross purposes with the high school’s popular clique, made up of vacuous Valley Girl Jennifer DiNuccio (Tracy Nelson), her BFF LaDonna “L.D.” Fredericks (Claudette Wells), and Jennifer’s none-too-bright boyfriend Vinnie Pasetta (Jon Caliri), memorably described on one occasion by one of Pegs’ characters as a “walking gland.”  Shunned by the “in crowd,” Patty and Lauren were forced to associate with misfits like themselves: class clown Marshall Blechtman (John Femia), who had an endless repertoire of bad celebrity impressions and jokes to go with them, and Johnny Ulasewicz (Merritt Butrick), whose fondness for New Wave music earned him the nickname “Johnny Slash.”  (People often mistook Slash for a punker but he emphatically insisted that New Wave was a “totally different head—totally.”)  The remaining member of this motley bunch was Muffy B. Tepperman (Jami Gertz), the annoyingly vivacious preppy who was constantly imploring her fellow classmates to show the proper school spirit (she was chairperson of Weemawee’s “Pep Committee").

Linker and Parker
Created and produced by former National Lampoon/Saturday Night Live writer Anne Beatts, Square Pegs premiered in the fall of 1982 to positive critical buzz and very impressive ratings in its debut time slot Monday nights on CBS (though its competition was formidable: the popular ABC [non]reality series That’s Incredible and NBC’s Little House: A New Beginning).  Had the network kept the show around on Monday nights, Square Pegs might have continued for a season or two (Little House was in its last year, and CBS had a fairly strong Monday lineup despite M*A*S*H also calling it quits).  But the show shifted to Wednesdays later in the season, where its lead-in was the terrible Zorro and Son (Beatts notes in a segment included on the DVD collection that’s when she knew there was little hope for her creation), and the network was also discouraged by the small numbers in male viewership (which was one of the reasons why Beatts persuaded Bill Murray to guest star in one episode…more on that in a bit)—the fact that it was popular with practically every female member of the viewing audience was of little comfort to them. 

Merritt Butrick, Parker, Jami Gertz, Linker, John Femia
After the show’s May 1983 cancellation, TV Guide published an article entitled “Anatomy Of A Failure: How Drugs, Ego, And Chaos Helped Kill A Promising Series.”  I don’t believe the piece is online, but it is referenced in this well-written article by Gwen Ihnat at the A.V. Club.  I remember reading the TV Guide article at the time of publication and thinking there was something mighty hinky that—save for Beatts, who acknowledged: “I think that certainly, there was some drug abuse or drug traffic that may have happened, because I would say that that is norm for a set”—no one in the cast or behind-the-scenes would go on the record for attribution.  (You can argue, of course, that with minors on the set, folks might be a little reluctant to engage in a little cleansing confession.)  As to Beatts’ observation, Anne may have been thinking about the history of substance abuse on SNL, which has been soldiering on for over forty years now despite this pharmaceutical handicap.  (I also got a chuckle out of the “ego and chaos” mentioned in the article.  I mean, that must have been a first for show business, huh?)

Butrick
Many former members of the cast are interviewed in “where-are-they-now?” segments on the Square Pegs DVD collection (humorously titled “Weemawee Yearbook Memories”) and the drug abuse on the show is not remarked upon in any of those features either (which is certainly understandable; Gerald Casale, the bassist/synthesizer with Devo, recalled for Heeb in 2009 that he snorted coke with Jami Gertz and Sarah Jessica Parker in their trailers during the time the New Wave band guested on a classic episode, in addition to observing a lot of sexual activity).  But I’m not going to continue to dwell on the “sin and vice” aspect of Pegs because a) it’s boring, and 2) it doesn’t seem to have interfered with the truth that Square Pegs was a hell of a funny show.

The actors—and creator Beatts—are unanimous in their assessment that Square Pegs was a show that was ahead of its time.  I think in some respects this is accurate, but what I’ve noticed in many of the articles I’ve read about the series is that they ignore that Pegs was essentially an 80s version of The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis.  There are differences, to be sure; the protagonist (Dwayne Hickman) of Dobie Gillis wanted little more out of high school (and later life) than “a girl to call his own.”  Patty and Lauren on Square Pegs desperately strived to be popular, and the romantical aspect wasn’t quite as prominent (though some Pegs outings did play on the “puppy love” trope—Lauren gets a major crush on the hunky janitor in “The Stepanowicz Papers,” for example).  What both shows had in common was the notion that it was okay to be a non-conformist in an atmosphere that unceasingly pressures kids to be and think alike.

Parker, Linker, and Nelson
Johnny Slash was the son of Dobie Gillis’ Maynard G. Krebs (Bob Denver)—a spacey, sweet-and-innocent manchild who marched to the beat of a different drummer, and who listened to that beat through his ever-present set of headphones.  Patty Greene was a slightly-less-obnoxious Zelda Gilroy (Sheila James) in that while her intelligence may have posed a handicap where the opposite sex was concerned (in “It’s Academical,” Lauren convinces her friend she needs to “play dumb” if she’s to have any chance with a senior on the quiz bowl team), any guy would be lucky to be with such a bright, funny girl.  Jennifer DiNuccio wasn’t as devoted to the pursuit of money as Dobie Gillis’ Thalia Menninger (Tuesday Weld), but she was every bit as superficial and drop-dead gorgeous (Jennifer was already being looked after—her father owned a successful auto dealership—but in one of my favorite episodes, “Hardly Working,” she’s forced to become a waitress at the gang’s hangout due to slumping sales brought on by the Reagan recession).  The dynamic of the popular and unpopular kids interacting with one another was present on both sitcoms; Dobie and Chatsworth Osborne III (Steve Franken), for example, normally didn’t travel in the same social circles but when they did it made those episodes of Dobie Gillis that much funnier—the same is true of Square Pegs, with the episodes in which the cliques must form “alliances” (“Working,” “A Cafeteria Line,” “To Serve Weemawee All My Days”) being the ones that remain in the memory.

In case you thought I was kidding about the Dobie Gillis comparisons.  Femia and Butrick strike familiar poses.

Caitlin Adams
Square Pegs even had funny teachers like Dobie Gillis.  In the place of Dobie’s Leander Pomfritt (William Schallert) and Ruth Adams/Imogene Burkhart (Jean Byron), you had history instructor Rob “Lovebeads” Donovan (Steven Peterman), popular among the students because of his unconventional teaching methods (there was a running gag on the show in which Donovan would reminisce about his “radical” college years and always stop short when he was about to mention his partaking of weed).  Caitlin Adams played Allison Loomis, a liberated feminist (her area of teaching expertise varied from episode to episode) who was bitter about her ex-husband and hilariously called her class to order by running her fingernails down the chalkboard (the girls have a slumber party at her house in “Halloween XII,” another favorite of mine).  The principal, Winthrop Dingleman—you can probably guess what unfortunate nickname he was saddled with—was portrayed by sad sack actor Basil Hoffman as a golf-obsessed authoritarian, and Craig Richard Nelson turns up in several episodes as John Michael Spacek…who, despite the usual drama teacher stereotype, was married and had several kids.

The Pegs cast pose with Devo
Unlike Dobie Gillis, Square Pegs chose not to focus on the characters’ parents too much (preferring to reference them in jokes) though there were two exceptions: Leave it to Beaver’s Tony Dow plays Patty’s divorced father in “A Child’s Christmas in Weemawee”—a Yuletide-themed episode that ranks as the show’s low point (they try to stretch a half-hour show into an hour, with disastrous results; also, too: because this episode was split into two for syndication, it’s assumed there was twenty total episodes in the entire series when there was really just n-n-n-n-nineteen).  They fared better with introducing us to Muffy’s parental units in “Muffy’s Bat Mitzvah” (the Devo episode); character veterans William Bogert and Marj Dusay are Alan and Beverly Tepperman (Dusay also played the snooty ma of Lisa Whelchel’s Blair Warner on The Facts of Life—so this was a walk in the park for her), and as a bonus we get Dena “Mother Nature” Dietrich as Muffy’s hip aunt.  (Aunt Vida is quite taken with Johnny Slash, and much hilarity ensues.)

The cast of Hello, Larry (shudder)
I loved all the Square Pegs characters except for Marshall—it’s not that I found him pestiferous (I was the same kind of kid in high school, a pop culture-obsessed wiseass), it’s just that I wasn’t a fan of the actor who played him; I remembered John Femia from the loathsome sitcom Hello, Larry—a show I despised with the intensity of a thousand white-hot suns despite the presence of Kim Richards.  But my favorite character on Square Pegs was Jami Gertz’s Muffy Tepperman, chiefly because my graduating class was packed to the rafters with Muffies, male and female.  I thought Muffy hysterically funny because of her cluelessness (in one episode, she responds to one of Marshall’s barbs with “I’m going to ignore that…because, frankly, I don't get it”) and considered her one of the show’s most intriguing personas in that, unlike Pegs’ protagonists of Patty and Lauren, Muffy wasn’t motivated to be accepted socially—she was just driven by her constant need to take charge.  There was also an interesting streak of villainy in her character; in “To Serve Weemawee All My Days,” it’s Muffy who stirs up trouble (as head of the “Morals Club”) by trying to get Mr. Donovan fired when it’s revealed that outside of class he’s in a relationship with an unmarried woman (quelle scandal!).

"People..."
Addressing her classmates with an elongated “People…” and punctuating her vocabulary with “It behooves me to say” and “It’s incumbent upon me,” Muffy was also at the center of one of Square Pegs’ funniest running gags: her tireless fundraising efforts on behalf of “Rosarita,” Weemawee’s “adopted Guatemalan child.”  By the time “Hardly Working” aired, Muffy was soliciting fundage so that Rosarita could get cable television, and when Patty inadvertently lets slip to Muffy that Jennifer’s having to take a job waitressing she laments to Lauren: “When’s the next flight to Guatemala—I hear they have cable now.”  (Muffy goes completely over-the-top by organizing a “telethon” to help Jennifer out—something that meets with Marshall’s enthusiastic approval because it appeals to his show biz ambitions.  I’d like to think that had there been a second season of Square Pegs the show’s writers would have gotten around to fashioning an episode where we would be presented with a more vulnerable Muffy.)  Like Sarah Jessica Parker (Sex and the City), Jami Gertz had a prolific acting post-Pegs acting career, appearing in such films as The Lost Boys (1987) and Less Than Zero (1987) and sitcoms like the schlubby-guy-with-a-hot-wife Still Standing (2002-2006) …but nothing ever made me laugh harder than the actress’s turn as Tepperman.  (“Why are you calling that woman Muffy?” my mother asked one night as she was watching 1996’s Twister, in which Gertz plays Bill Paxton’s girlfriend.)

Bill Murray's character (here with Gertz and Steven Peterman) has a lot of fun at Muffy's expense (calling her "Muffin," "Muffler," and "Mothball") in "No Substitutions"...but Gertz reminisces that Murray called her "Chicago" when not filming and that he let her road-test his rented Mercedes.

Claudette Wells (with compact), Butrick, Gertz
Bill Murray plays a substitute teacher (he’s an actor who teaches in-between thespic gigs) in “No Substitutions,” which is inarguably Square Pegs’ finest hour.  He pairs up the kids in Ms. Loomis’ class in a “marriage experiment,” much to Patty’s dismay because Lauren ends up wedded to Vinnie while she remains single (“Great—you get to marry Vinnie Pasetta, and I get to learn life can be cruel…I could have learned that in gym.”).  Murray’s Jack McNulty offers to “marry” Patty, which makes Lauren jealous…and that jealousy spreads to Mr. Donovan, who resents how quickly the kids have made McNulty the most popular teacher on the Weemawee campus.  Now, having Bill Murray guest star on any episode of any sitcom would reap tremendous comedy benefits (Nelson recalls that Murray never did scenes a second time in the same way, and Beatts laughs when she relates how the actor called her up the night before shooting to tell her he was incarcerated in a Tijuana jail…yet he was actually calling from Los Angeles) but this episode is also falling-down funny because the stick-up-her-ass Muffy is paired off with the laidback Johnny Slash, much to her undisguised contempt.  After four days of misery, McNulty agrees to divorce the students—something Muffy is delighted about, but Johnny is mortified (“I think we ought to have a baby”).

Square Pegs' pop culture references (this one is from "No Joy in Weemawee" -- you might have to enlarge this to get the extra joke in the byline) have been frowned upon by a few critics...but a classic movie fan like myself finds them irresistible, with sequences riffing on everything from Frankenstein to The Godfather.  In fact, the funniest bit in the terrible Christmas episode occurs when Patty has a vision of herself in her dad's ice fishing cabin, devouring a shoe like Chaplin in The Gold Rush.

Square Pegs never had the luxury of a “series finale,” but the last episode, “The Arrangement,” is a pretty good capper to the sitcom.  Vinnie wants to throw Jennifer a six-month anniversary party, but he’s not going to get that opportunity if he doesn’t pass a crucial math test.  Jennifer and L.D. prevail upon Patty for help, and Patty agrees under the proviso that the two girls treat she and Lauren like people and not “lint” …and that they also get invited to the shindig.  (On Pegs, LaDonna always called Lauren and Patty “that fat girl” and “that fat girl’s friend.”  Muffy’s pet nicknames for the duo were “Stringbean” and “Fang,” but seemed blissfully unaware that L.D. referred to her as “that loud-mouthed girl.”)  Lauren can’t fathom why Jennifer and L.D. are being so nice to her (Patty has refrained from clueing her in on their deal), and their moment of social solidarity ends when the two popular girls tell our heroines at Vinnie’s party to amscray usterbay.  The dejected girls wind up at Johnny’s place, where they watch TV with Slash and Marshall…and then the cool band that played at Vinnie and Jennifer’s soiree shows up, because they’re friends with the Slashman.  “Arrangement” is an excellent example of Pegs’ underlying message that high school popularity is not the end-all and be-all.  I’d rather hang out with Patty and Lauren than the shallow and self-absorbed Jennifer and LaDonna.

Nelson's short, Pat Benatar-like haircut didn't pass muster with Anne Beatts...so she had to wear a wig "that looked like a squirrel."  Wells took the time to get hair braided and beaded...and wound up having to also wear a wig because the beads were the wrong color.  (Hair issues.)

Nelson and Wells, circa 2008
I mentioned earlier that there are interviews with some members of the Square Pegs’ cast included on the DVD set; I think it’s sweet that Tracy Nelson and Claudette Wells do their segment together because like their characters, they later became the best of friends (they explain they bonded because of “hair issues”).  (There’s also a nice tribute to Merritt Butrick—“Johnny Slash”—from those who participated; Butrick passed away in 1989 from toxoplasmosis and AIDS-related complications.)  What amused me about these segments is that all the interviewees (not too surprising coming from Beatts, who used her own matriculating experiences as the spark plug for the series) seem to identify with the Patty and Lauren characters and admit that they, too, were “square pegs” in high school—just once I’d love to see someone blurt out “Yes, I was phenomenally popular in high school; I spoke fluent cheerleader and made the other students’ lives a living hell.”  (If you think I’m exaggerating about my outsider status during “the best years of my life,” I have people who will sign affidavits as to my geekdom.)  Square Pegs would later pave the way for similar high school series like Freaks and Geeks and a gazillion lame Disney Channel sitcoms, but there’s a reason why I never embraced the cult show My So-Called Life like its devoted fan base—I’d seen teen angst portrayed much better on the earlier Pegs…and in a much funnier fashion, too.