personal history

personal history

PAPPA’S GOT A BRAND NEW BLOG!

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PAPPA’S GOT A BRAND NEW BLOG!

 jamesbrown

                If you have linked to my blog from one of my Facebook or Google or Twitter links, and are a regular reader, you may have noticed something different.

                (If this is your first look at my little set of blogs – either through a random search or through WordPress, welcome!)

                I have redone my blog through WordPress where I also started a web page – https://michaelgcurry.com/. So far it leads to my blog posts from Blogger – I imported all of them – has links to my Twitter feed and Facebook page and a cute link to Goodreads and I hope I can get a link (called a widget) to Librarything.

                I don’t like the transfer of my blogs from Blogger to WordPress – it has some errors, particularly lack of spaces between words, misaligned margins, white text that is invisible here, etc. Minor quibbles, I suppose.

                A fun and interesting addition will include tags and topics – I look forward to seeing which tags grow in size reflecting the common topics of my blog entries. I expect “comic books” will dominate haha.

                I like Blogger and will continue to post there as long I get enough hits. Perhaps in the future I can link the two – clicking on one leads to the other. But I wanted to expand my options and give myself an actual website for potential readers to view.

                Why do I need better access to readers? Why do I need an “intro” website to my blog?

                Because I do not intend the website to be only a doorway to my blogs because …

                … are you ready? …

                In a few weeks I will be publishing my first book.

                I am publishing “Abby’s Road, the Long and Winding Road to Adoption; and how Facebook, Aquaman and Theodore Roosevelt helped”.

                I am using the company Createspace to self-publish my book through Amazon and its affiliates. When I have a cover designed I will then upload the book through Smashwords to publish it through Barnes & Noble, Apple Books, and other venues Createspace does not use.

                I have updated my Facebook page (and created an author’s fan page), Twitter, Google + and LinkedIn to use as my link to readers for marketing my book. I hope “Abby’s Road” will do well enough to help pay for itself and my next book about children’s television – which I hope to be published in November. With Smashwords I will be able to publish the short stories I have written through the years. Some will be free; some will be a dollar.

                This isn’t vanity publishing, although that still exists; this is the trend of the future: bypassing the traditional – sometimes insurmountable – wall of traditional publishers.  Independent publishing – the last thing I would associate myself with is being on the crest of a wave of the future.

                Future blogs will discuss how I came to write the book and my experiences in publishing it. I also have a few ideas about sharing my current health issues and my attempts at overcoming them. Plus the usual movie, book, TV and comic book reviews; don’t worry my fellow nerds – I am still a geek at heart!

                So wish me luck and please be patient with this old Luddite when it comes to browsing my web pages. I’ll do my best! And I’ll keep posting!

Original material copyright 2014 Michael Curry

 

(noticed I dropped my middle initial “G” in all this? Smashwords recommends eliminating middle initials to allow people browsing authors to find my name easier … who am I to argue?)

Oh God! Body Grease! Murder in the Magnolias Act Six

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Oh God! Body Grease! Murder in the Magnolias Act Six
             I’m very sad that it is over. I’m very glad that it is over.
 
           The final performance on March 2, 2014 was canceled due to this season’s monthly snowpocalypse. We ended up getting less than an inch of ice, but I’m glad they canceled – it was not worth taking the chance in case the weather was worse. It was only the second time a production by the Sparta Community Chorus was canceled. The other time was the December 2013’s Christmas production during the first major snow of the season. Only two cancellations ever; and both during the same period.
            The director and I joked about the play being “cursed”! It was canceled en toto back in 1981 and now again! It was the culmination of curses throughout – my forgetting my shoes on the first Saturday performance; the actress playing Lorraine forgetting her shoes on the second Saturday (forcing both of us to hie to the Wal-Mart across the street for shoes. I only found one pair large enough for me and it was still half-a-size too small. They had men’s shoes there size seven. Seven. The WIDTH of my foot is wider than that. Lorraine found lots of shoes for 1/3rd the price I paid…).
            The actor playing Pete Bogg cut his finger on a glass figurine that shattered on the floor (the shattering was part of the play, the cut finger was not). It wasn’t a bad cut and a Band-Aid and some anti-septic took care of it, but at the time he bled quite a bit! Blood was dripping on him, the furniture and the gold coins his character discovered.
            It was always freezing cold backstage.
            Lines were also a problem. There were so many similar lines and even repeated lines throughout the play. My characters used the words “rapscallion” twice. Two separate characters repeated “over here, dear” to Amanda and “are you trying to be amusing” to Pete Bogg. The sheriff had two similar lines when he entered a scene and said the buried treasure was separately a story for children and a myth. Listening backstage, I was unsure which line went where. Blanche had to watch her finances and a few lines later had to watch her pennies. It was confusing and you couldn’t blame anyone for switching lines. During the first weekend, we skipped over the lines about state authorities doing some drainage work. My response was “to dig or not to dig, that is the question”. The lines were lost that first weekend, but said during the second weekend’s performances.
            Some of the cast apologized for missing their lines that first weekend. The rest of us assured them it was fine – we worked around it and ad-libbed our way back to the script. The performances were marvelous! The audience loved them!
            The hoop skirts were a hassle at first – it was hard for any of us to tie it firmly enough to prevent it from falling off.
            There was hardly enough time for me to change from the Colonel to Thornbird between acts without missing my cue. Fortunately the rest of the cast helped me change, put on my spats, touch up my moustache and beard and put up my first costume so that, during the performances, I had plenty of time.
            The stage and auditorium is haunted by a ghost or gremlin, so I was told. It would flicker lights and otherwise disrupt the show. I only saw one example of this: while discussing the Colonel’s portrait that hung over the mantel, it fell with a crash and cracked the frame as we watched it. Other than that, no ghost or gremlin. I once showed up for rehearsal very early. Some patrons were in the auditorium preparing for a children’s show in March and let me in as they left. I spent 20 minutes in the auditorium waiting for other cast members. If there was a ghost, I would have been a tempting target that evening. Nothing. In fact, it was nice to relax and listen to some music on my ipad.
            A rehearsal was cancelled due to bad weather. It wasn’t until the week of opening night that we had rehearsals with the entire cast present.
            One cast member left the show in the first week and was replaced quickly. His replacement was one of the people I auditioned for.
            None of these were long-term problems and all were resolved quickly. If these were curses I could live with them!
            In fact the play could not have gone better. The audiences for each of the five performances were wonderful and receptive. Each audience laughed at different parts of the show, it seemed. There were more children in the audience that first Friday and Saturday night and their laughter was louder than the others. They also laughed at the more silly/slapstick parts. We had an older audience the final Friday and Saturday and they laughed less at the modern references to “twerking” and “Dancing with the Stars”.
            I had to ask the director if the last Friday audience was laughing. They sounded dead from the stage, but she assured me they were laughing.
            And laughing at all the right places.
            Lines we thought were funny barely got a titter. Lines we thought weren’t all that funny got howls from the crowd. Blanche’s line “Gone with the first wind that …” the rest of the line was lost to the laughter. Every time. Blanche’s deliver was spot-on.
            My favorite line from the whole play, also a Blanche line, was “I’m a friend to all animals. I want to be your friend, Stanley,” got no reaction from the crowd. None. Haha.
 
 
            At intermission of the last performance we had the cast thank-yous. I did not know what that was and thought it was something we did onstage to the audience. But we gathered backstage to thank the director, the assistant director, the light and sound people, and each other. The director Stephanie told the story of why the play was never done back in 1981 and we all gave our appreciation to each other for a wonderful show.
            I posted this on Facebook on Sunday March 2nd. I posted it about two in the afternoon – the time we were to begin what would have been the final show:
I’m very sad it’s over; I’m very glad it’s over. I auditioned more or less on a whim and, to be frank, if Stephanie had not directed I probably wouldn’t have. I am so glad and grateful you took a chance and allowed me to play not one, but two roles on someone whose only real experience was during the last days of the Carter Administration. The cast and crew were at all times friendly, helpful and kind to me and made me feel quite welcome! It encourages me to try out again in future productions! Thank you to all my new friends and have a wonderful rest of the year! Thank you for wonderful new memories!
            And it is all true! It was a wonderful two months ending in a fun and entertaining time for us and our audience.
            Oh, and the title to this blog? The Voodoo Woman’s opening line for each appearance is an invocation of the Voodoo male fertility god Ogoun Bodagris. In 1981 that was transliterated to “Oh God, Body Grease”. I knew it was gnawing at you!
 
 
 
Copyright 2014 Michael G Curry
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 
 
 
             

 

 


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Oh God, Body Grease! Murder in the Magnolias Act Five

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Oh God, Body Grease! Murder in the Magnolias Act Five
   

         Ten days before the first performance I was hit by a particularly virulent sinus infection. I gave it to my wife, my daughter and my secretary – who in turn gave it to her family. It was something out of Stephen King’s “The Stand”. Fortunately there were no more rehearsals for that week and I had seven days to recover.

            And recover I did, although my voice was still scratchy and hoarse from the drainage and coughing. At all times I had cough drops and taffy in my mouth to keep it moist.
            Fortunately my years as a radio announcer taught me how to care for my voice. When I speak to you it may sound raspy, but when performing you can’t tell.
            The Tuesday we returned from our week-long break we had our first dress rehearsal. I switch characters and costumes between the Prologue and Act One, Scene one.  I couldn’t change in time. I was still dressing when my cue came.
            We had it figured out by the next rehearsal and had it down pat by the first weekend performance: Put on my ascot and button the shirt to my neck to hide it. Put on my string tie over the ascot. Put on my black pants, roll the pant legs up and put on my white pants and white suit coat. Buttoning the top two buttons hide the black pants. Put on my black moustache and soul patch and glue/tape the white beard and moustache over it.
            Between acts I peel off the white beard and mustache, the string tie and the white suit and pants. A fellow actor touches up the black mustache and goatee, another helps with the spats. I switch glasses, fluff up my ascot, put on my Panama hat and I have been on time every since.
            I have plenty of time for the other costume changes between the other acts.
            
 

             The performances have been wonderful. We hope for an audience of fifty for each performance and the first weekend beat that! I’ve seen lots of family and old friends each night – or the parents of old friends! My sister and two of her sons went the first night. My nephews, 10 and 6, enjoyed the show. The six-year-old couldn’t stop giggling at the slapstick. My father, sister and her new boyfriend were there Saturday night and my cousins attended the Sunday matinee. This Saturday my wife and other cousins will watch the show and my sister will be back Sunday.
            The three audiences have all enjoyed the show. Funny how each audience laughed at different jokes. Some routines fell flat one night and then met with laughs and applause the next. Lines that I did not think were that funny are getting the biggest laughs of the night. This is why I’m not a playwright…
 
            We have a “brush up” rehearsal this Thursday and then another weekend of performances before it is all over. Some cast members were upset over missing or misreading lines. I think we’ve all been doing fine. We cover for each other and if a line is missed we move on! We’re doing splendidly and I hope the local papers give us good reviews.
            I introduced my sister to Heidi, who plays the Voodoo Woman. If we had performed the play in high school my sister was to have also played the Voodoo Woman. At one performance, I talked with the mother of the girl who was to have played Lorraine Caruthers.  I had not seen her mother in 33-plus years. I think the boy who was to play Billy Jerk will be there Friday.
            It is tremendous fun and I am so happy to have screwed up my courage and auditioned.
            The only real problem is the befuddlement of my daughter. She saw the photos of me as Thornbird’s sister and has asked six times this evening why I wore a dress. “Boys don’t wear dresses! Boys don’t wear wigs! Why do you wear a dress in your play?” I guess I should be grateful we’re not doing “Some Like it Hot” …
            Hopefully some reviews and more photos in Act Six!
 

                                                                                                 Copyright 2014 Michael G Curry
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 
 
 
             

 

 


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Oh God, Body Grease! Murder in the Magnolias Act Four

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Oh God, Body Grease! Murder in the Magnolias, Act Four
 
                We are in our fifth of seven weeks of rehearsals. Starting next week we add Monday practices to our Tuesday and Thursday schedule.
                Stephanie, our fearless leader and director, gave us until February 1st to learn out lines. I think we have, for the most part. The cast at the least now know their characters and have a feel for what they would say, if not what they should say.
                It’s tough. Erika, who plays the lead Amanda, said on her Facebook page how strange the lines are. Very true. “Murder in the Magnolias” is a broad spoof filled with cracked characters. To say the bulk of the lines, especially in the first two acts when the characters are being introduced, are off-beat non-sequiturs is being kind.
                It is not until the third act that there is anything resembling realistic conversation. It’s easier to memorize lines when there is a flow to them. If one line is “How are you?” and the next “Fine, thank you, yourself?” – that has a flow and makes sense. If nothing else you can wing it.
                But “Murder in the Magnolias?” Yeek…
                The opening scene has the Colonel complaining about his sister Amanda’s botanical garden. He says a few lines about vicious and despicable weeds. Amanda tells him to hush, now. The Colonel says the plants are the unnatural and morbid. Amanda talks about how hot it is this evening. This at least feeds me the line about favoring prickly heat; but it’s a strange path. Perhaps as we practice it will seem more natural.
                Another great example is with my other character Thornbird. In between an argument between Amanda and Pete Bogg about excavating around the house I mention there is something odd about the “O” on my typewriter: a line completely out of the blue with no relation to the current conversation. It defines the character, sure, but I have to remember where it fits – what is my cue line? I’ve missed it a few times now during rehearsal. There’s not much cadence to dig into.
                Odd and obtuse lines – we have to memorize our cues and then get the cadence right to make it funny.
                As I said, it’s tough.
                In the third act is gets better. Most of the lines (mine anyway, I pity the actress (Britney) who plays Blanche – her non-sequiturs never seem to end. At one point her character literally stands up, holds up her hand and says “I would like to stop the drift of this conversation.” (I paraphrase) Talk about left field.
                But the lines and character quirks are starting to gel. Now that the lines are down we are working on the physical part of the show and blocking more effectively. You stand there. When he says this, you move over there. We’ve added some physical comedy during segments where characters are otherwise simply talking to one another. One cute segment between Blanche and Bubba: Blanche is demonstrating how she trains dogs; Bubba thinks he is talking to him. “Sit up!” He stops slouching. “Off the table!” He moves his leg from the coffee table. “Play dead!” Umm, what?
                The set is coming along nicely, too. Most of the walls are painted and the windows and doors are in. Over the mantel is a painting of the Colonel. Stephanie took my photo in almost-costume a few weeks ago and will print it out using a photoshop program that makes it look like a painting with brush strokes, etc. It will hang with pride on the stage wall!
                Here is a photo:
 


                  On Thursday, January 30th I was in court most of the day and still had my briefcase in the car along with my I-Pad. I was the first one at practice and shot a few photos of the set.

    
            I also took some pictures of rehearsal, but I do not want to show them right now in case any of the actors object. When we start releasing any “official” cast photos I may post them in a future blog.
 
 



 
               The costumes for the play are mainly street clothes. Pete and Bubba can wear blue jeans; Bubba could wear a t-shirt with a pack of cigarettes rolled up in the sleeve. Lawyer Possum could wear a sports coat. Pete Bogg, a construction vest and a utility belt. Sheriff Billy Jerk could get away with street clothes and a badge and a brimmed hat – a full uniform would not be necessary. Facial hair for these male rolls is completely optional.
                Lorraine, Lotta and Blanche can be dressed business-casual.  Blanche later appears in a Southern-Belle-like dress, though. So does Amanda. “Cousin ‘Manda” also has a scene in which she comes straight from her disgusting mess of a weed pile. She decided to dress in boots, gloves and an apron.
                But the Colonel and Thornbird, my characters, are the exception. That hadn’t occurred to me when I auditioned. Oh the pain…
                Colonel Rance Chickenwing is (obviously) a spoof of southern colonels and our director wants him to look like Colonel Sanders. White suit, mustache and beard. Black-rimmed glasses and black string tie. He’ll wield a cane. I have the white suit – all the better to cosplay John Lennon – and other than the string tie his costume is complete – and a long, thick black ribbon can be used for the tie.
                Thornbird will wear a frock coat with a frilly shirt and ascot/cravat. I have those, except the cravat, but a fru-fru lady’s scarf will do for that. He’ll have a dark mustache and soul patch under his bottom lip – which will remain on for all three of his personalities. I see Thornbird wearing spats (he and the Colonel will wear the same dress shoes and socks, I’m afraid), gaudy rings, Panama hat, granny glasses and a cane – different from the Colonel’s cane.
                I hope to avoid anyone thinking Thornbird is the Colonel in disguise – ready to pounce on his greedy relatives. I’m trying to keep their mannerisms and voice different. The Colonel has a throaty growl and Thornbird a higher-pitched smoother voice (having sinus trouble over the past month makes it hard to avoid the rumbly growl, but now that it has somewhat passed I will try to pull it off).
                They have Thornbird’s sister’s dress ready: a dark-green-hooped skirt with mid-sleeve blouse. I presume I will still be wearing my frilly shirt underneath. They have a pig-tailed blond wig and a pink parasol for me. The theater isn’t heated well, so the warm wig feels nice, haha!
                Rufus T. Chickenwing’s costume is complete at well: a Confederate officer’s uniform, hat and saber. Esther has kindly lent me her toy plush parrot for the bird scene. Here’s the bird with my Panama hat (actually a wide-brimmed trilby, but it still looks the part).
 

 

 
                I should have enough time in between scenes to change. Going from the Colonel to Thornbird then Thornbird to his sister will be a rush; but if I get changed right away and don’t fool around watching the other performances, I should be okay. We only have one or two dress rehearsals to practice my quick-change-act. I will certainly let the director know if time is my enemy.
***
                It’s evolving into a fun show – the cast seems to like it and laugh at its silliness. We get along – or at least the people that DON’T get along are keeping it to themselves – a nice change of pace from 1981, I must say.
                Because of snow/sleet we had to cancel our practice on the 4th, which leaves only seven more rehearsals left.
                Seven.
                I think I’m going to be sick…
 

 

Copyright 2014 Michael G Curry                
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 
 
 
             

 

 


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Oh God, Body Grease! Murder in the Magnolias Act Three

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Oh God, Body Grease! Murder in the Magnolias, Act Three

                Some bad news this early in – the actor playing Lawyer Possum (Ernie) has left the show. Our director has replaced him – David will be our new Lawyer Possum (I am avoiding last names). I only saw Ernie at the block rehearsal for Act One, Scene Two and never got to meet him or introduce myself.
                Lawyer Possum is the smallest role in the play other than Colonel Rance Chickenwing; but as with the Colonel, it is an important one. They are both the first two victims of this murder mystery. Don’t be upset that I spoiled a “surprise”, c’mon, we’re adults here. It’s a murder mystery – people get murdered. And it is not as if I am telling you who did it. Please remember this is a spoof – even if I did tell you who did it, how and why; it wouldn’t make any sense. And it wouldn’t spoil the enjoyment of a very silly show.
                There is one victim whose death is unexpected, though; I won’t reveal that one. It would spoil some of the fun!
                The two blocking rehearsals went very well. The actors are still learning their lines and cues, but it is coming together. The nuances and ebb and flow of the conversations, arguments and (mostly) non-sequiturs are starting to gel. The physical cues will come after the dialogue is set in our minds. In other words, it’s hard to remember to walk to the fireplace mantel when you are still reading lines from the playbook.
***
                Let’s meet my characters. I am playing two separate people, one of which has split personalities. So I am playing two characters and four personalities. I believe I will be the only actor or actress in the play that will have a costume change – at least three! I haven’t spoken to the director about a possible fourth costume change for the fourth personality. I think it’s appropriate and I do not mind doing it – there will certainly be enough time in between my scenes to change – I just hope there is a place other than the public bathroom to change!
                Colonel Rance Chickenwing: the patriarch of this little group of misfits. By the time of the play he is seventy-six years old and appears to have emphysema, tuberculosis or some kind of breathing trouble. So far I have not done his voice with a wheeze – I shall have to discuss if the director even cares about that. He is from old antebellum money; but that money seems to have run out some time ago. His father grew lilacs. He was a US Senator for a very brief time. Whether he won an election or was appointed to replace a vacancy is unknown. I would guess the latter. The Colonel seems the type to keep to his friends and family – rarely if ever leaving his home or grounds. He doesn’t seem the type to want to travel the state meeting the great unwashed and kissing their babies.
                If his term was any shorter he would be in the Guinness Book of World Records, Jezebel the housekeeper said. His only activity in the Senate was his bill to make his home, Belle Acres, its own state. If he ran for the seat in an election, he would have made no bones about this being his primary aim. He would not stump about protecting and serving his constituents. He would not have been elected. Not back then anyway, nowadays …
                When his only piece of legislature failed he likely decided not to run for re-election or resigned from the Senate. At least he has his lifetime pension and insurance.
                He drinks at least once per day and chews tobacco.
                By now (and likely as a young man) he is crotchety and angry when not getting his way. He neither suffers fools nor does he like anyone speaking to him as if he were their equal. I doubt he considers very few people his equal.
                He is the lord of his manor and they are a reflection of each other. In these later days he and his manor are crumbling and fading toward its end.
                He loves and cares for his ditsy sister – his closest relative – although he can’t stand to be around her for very long. Jezebel is the only character that stands up to him and matches his wits, so obvious he cannot stand her. If she were a better housekeeper he may have a grudging respect for her and even secretly like her – but I am putting way too much depth in these characters.
                Although the script calls for him to be weak and wrapped in a shawl, I would rather play him as the snappy and snarling lion in winter – still able to slap down foolishness or anyone being too uppity for their station. He dies at the end of the prologue; and it is not until Act One we find out he was murdered.
                He looks like Colonel Sanders. I have the white suit for it and the thick reading glasses. I’ll likely be wearing a string bow tie or bolo and white wig, mustache and goatee. He also wields a cane.
                Thornbird Chickenwing III: a poet in the Tennessee Williams mold. The playbook says he is weak, frail and slightly effeminate. At six-foot-three and over two hundred and fifty pounds I doubt I can play weak and frail. I can do effeminate, but to play full-blown camp doesn’t fit. I think the director agrees with me. At least so far she hasn’t asked me to go all Waylon Flowers …
                He is a poet. Whether he is successful or not is unknown. He doesn’t do anything else for a living so he is either living off his family’s old money or able to live on his writing. How he developed his split personalities is unknown. The play does not say whether he is even aware of his mental illness, so I am playing as if he has no idea. He may be aware of the events witnessed by his “sister” and “great-great-grandfather” when his Thornbird personality returns, but that is unknown. Did he remember his “sister” learning about his inheritance or did he learn it from, say, Bubba? There are no lines in the play indicating what happens when Thornbird transitions from one personality to the next – and I realize I am putting WAY too much thought into this silliest of parts in the silliest of spoofs – but it’s important to me to know how Thornbird would react to things happening to his other personalities.
                Thornbird (mine at least) is dressed in a frock coat – I have a nice tuxedo coat that looks old-fashioned and with some pinning could be very Victorian/steampunk, black pants, spats, and my straw trilby (too big to be a real trilby/too small to be a panama hat). He will have a cane, too. It will have to be different from the Colonel’s. He will also have gold granny glasses with the small rope-like holder going around my neck. 
                I would like a mustache and a small patch betwixt lower lip and chin.
                Thornbird’s sister: They never give her name and she has only 5 lines. She’s done purely for shock value and the playbook says to use a deep (normal) voice. It’s hard not to do a high breathy voice in the scene. I always imagined those Benny Hill skits when he played the Southern Belle.
                I’ll wear a loud dress and carry a parasol and wear a wig. I’ll keep the mustache and beard patch. I hope I can still wear my pants, shoes and spats underneath.  They will be obvious from the audience, but it will work – Thornbird is supposed to be crazy, after all.
                Rufus T. Chickenwing: Amanda and the Colonel’s great-great-grandfather. We only know that Thornbird, Bubba and Blanche are distant, distant, distant cousins of Amanda and Rance. Whether they are all first cousins or some generations removed is unclear and intentionally so. I would guess the younger characters – Thornbird, Bubba & Blanche – are cousins or second cousins to each other, while the older folk – Amanda and Rance – are cousins to the younger set’s parents.
                Rufus is 205 years old and is a poet. One poem was written one line per year and is now up to 183 lines. If using modern dates (as opposed to 1980, when the play was written), this means he started his poem during the presidency of Andrew Jackson.
                Whether Thornbird actually had a sister is unknown, but Rufus was “real” and Thornbird is assuming his persona – as in the great tradition of Teddy from “Arsenic and Old Lace”. Is it normal to assume both real and non-existent people in a multiple personality case?  I’ll let the psychiatrists argue about that one…
                I don’t know what to wear as Rufus yet. Should I put back on the white suit coat of the Colonel’s? Keep the black pants and spats? Using the Colonel’s white wig would be funny – especially making sure it isn’t on correctly and twists and turns throughout the scene.
                Rufus carries, and is attacked by, a bird on his arm. My wife won a giant plush parrot some twenty years ago and we had it displayed in our house. I took it to the first blocking rehearsal as a prop. The director said it was perfect and we can use it in the play. At one point I am behind the couch being attacked by it. This is where twisting the wig around would work.
                But will I look too much like the Colonel? Will anyone think I am the same character but “in disguise”?
                Remember the great movie “Sleuth”? Michael Caine played a detective investigating the disappearance of the main character played by Michael Caine. It was obviously the first character in disguise. His moment of truth was not so thrilling. “Wyke, it is … ME!! Milo Trindle!!”
                “No. It. Cannot. Be. Say. It. Isn’t. So,” chews Laurence Olivier.
                You knew the detective was Michael Caine – you explain it by saying it’s a two-man show, so of course they play separate parts.
                So will people say, “It’s the Colonel” when Thornbird walks on?
                Yes, but I will try to make them separate people – their voices will be different. The Colonel’s voice will be a big-mouthed gruff mountain bark; Thornbird’s a tight-lipped Virginian drawl.
                Fortunately the Colonel does his entire scene sitting, so I don’t have to worry about how they walk or move about.
                I won’t worry about that if no one else does. If anyone says, “I was expecting you to take off your hat and say ‘I was the Colonel all along!’ we can rethink it in later performances.
                After the costumes are firmed up and the blocking done I hope to get some pictures here and on my Facebook page. More news as it develops!
Copyright 2014 Michael G Curry
             


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Oh God, Body Grease! Murder in the Magnolias Act Two

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Oh God, Body Grease: Murder in the Magnolias, Act Two
            I was cast to play two roles in the Sparta (IL) Community Chorus’s production of “Murder in the Magnolias”, performed the weekends of February 21st and 28th. On January 2nd we had our first read-through. It was our first chance to meet each other and know who was playing what part.
            Well, first chance I had to meet each other. The rest of the cast knew each other from prior plays and musicals. I met all but two of the cast for the first time.
            There were a lot of chuckles during the read-through. Some of us were looking through the script for the first time – well, if not the first time, it was pretty close – and some of us knew our lines very well.
            I hope I knew most of my lines. I had been reading the script since Christmas day and have been memorizing the ebb and flow of my lines since then. The lines, particularly the Colonel’s, are repetitive. I am either calling something vicious, evil or nasty in every line. I tell my “sister Amanda” to hush up, shut her mouth and listen at various times.  It can be very easy to skip lines.
            When I was in “The Odd Couple” in 1982, we had similar problems. At the end of an act our director told us we were all over the script – even doing lines from other acts yet to come.  It sounded great and no one noticed the repeat performance some minutes later. I’d like to avoid that.
            For example: the Colonel has a line “there’s something in the night air” and later “I have a premonition that something is hovering over my head”. Not identical and barely similar – but the feeling is the same. I could easily get these mixed up.
            The character of Thornbird only has two small soliloquies and his other lines are comments and reactions to other characters. The play is full of things like that – one-up zingers. “Shut my mouth.” “Wish I could.”
            But Thornbird (and others) also have lines like “Are you ailing?” “What’s so unusual about that?”  These require learning the lines before mine to set up verbal cues. “I’ll move the stuffed pig” (don’t ask) is said before my line “what time is Lawyer Possum getting here?” The prior line has nothing to do with mine, so I have to remember when I hear “pig” to ask about Lawyer Possum.
            The insults and zingers are easier to remember because (1) those kinds of lines have a cadence and (2) I enjoy that kind of humor anyway – so the lines are natural to me. “Only a moron would consider that a compliment.” “I ain’t no moron.” “Then it ain’t no compliment.” Or “Black Widow spiders are deadly aren’t they?” “Only when they kill someone.”
            I try to remember certain mnemonics. One of my first lines contained “Whipped ‘em” or WPDM – “That weed pile of yours is a disgusting mess!” VD is vicious and despicable and “Sumsog” is “there’s something unnatural and morbid in that smelly old garden of yours.” I enjoy these memory exercises.
***
            This is the advertising copy of the play. Oddly, it contains some spoilers but they are necessary to describe the remaining play. Kind of like spoiling the beginning of”Citizen Kane” by saying Kane dies at the beginning.
            Yes, I just compared “Murder in the Magnolias” to “Citizen Kane” …
            What happens when you parody characters and plots from almost every Southern play imaginable, and sprinkle them with the flavor of Gone With the Wind? You get the hilarious Murder in the Magnolias. Colonel Rance Chickenwing has kicked the bucket, leaving the secret of his buried treasure for a houseful of demented relatives to discover. There’s Bubba Kamrowski, who juggles bowling balls in a luncheonette; the delicate Blanche De Blank, whose fiancé drowned in the quarry behind the Veronica Lake Casino; Thornbird, the flaky poet, whose personality is split so many ways, he’s fractured; the cartoonish Lawyer Possum whose only paying client is an alligator. There’s the movie queen, Princess Lotta Kargo, who claims she’s the Colonel’s wife. And Amanda Chickenwing, who attempts to sell subscriptions to the Tudball Tattler. Soon, there’s another death and the mystery at Belle Acres must be solved by Sheriff Billy Jerk. Toss in a prehistoric garden complete with murderous honeysuckle vines, yapping hound dogs, a Voodoo Woman, a menacing hurricane, a suspicious state engineer and a series of devastatingly hilarious “monologues,” and you’ve got a pretty good idea of the fun in this off-the-wall spoof.
“A funny and clever spoof.” – Texas Theatre Week
That’s the party line – er – official description from the playbook and the advertisements.
***
Some quick written thumbnails of the cast were also found online:
Colonel Rance Chickenwing: Once a US Senator, now aged and difficult
Amanda Chickenwing: His younger sister, daffy & devoted to her strange botanical garden
Jezebel: The housekeeper; slovenly, lazy, inept, outspoken
Voodoo Woman: The local witch
Pet Bogg: A state engineer who must dig up the old plantation
Thornbird Chickenwing III: A Southern writer whose personality is split so many ways he’s fractured.
Bubba Kamrowski: Juggles bowling balls in a luncheonette; en expert in Napoleonic law
Lorraine Carruthers: Social secretary to Princess Kargo; an intelligent young woman
Lawyer Possum: Has an alligator for a client
Princess Lotta Kargo: Flamboyant, theatrical and, maybe, off her rocker
Sheriff Billy Jerk: The biggest man in TudballCounty
Blanche Du Blank: A Southern belle, slightly cracked.

***
And now the cast – from the Facebook page of the director … (no last names ere used to protect the innocent – I know eventually our last names will be in programs and – hopefully – favorable reviews; but for now … )
Colonel Rance Chickenwing  – Mike (me)
Amanda Chickenwing – Erica
Jezebel – Mary 
Voodoo Woman – Heidi 
Pete Bogg – Brad
Thornbird Chickenwing III – Mike (me) 
Bubba Kamrowski – Ryan
Lorraine Carruthers – Amy  
Lawyer Possum – Ernest
Princess Lotta Kargo – Debbie
Sheriff Billy Jerk – John
Blanche Du Blank – Britney
 
            At the first read-through, some of the cast were absent either by permission or with the pandemic flu going around. I, Erica, Mary, Heidi, Brad, Ryan and Amy were there. Everyone read through their lines splendidly.
            Erica is the big kahuna of the Sparta Community Chorus – the president or board chairman, I can’t remember specifically. We have the most lines together.
            Mary was going to try out for a role in the 1982 production of “Oklahoma” I was in, but she was expecting a child at the time. She said she gave birth to her daughter on one of the performance dates. I said that was too bad. Imagine the laughs of a nine-month pregnant Ado Annie singing “I’m Just a Girl Who Can’t Say No”.
            Debbie was in “Oklahoma” with me back in 1982. Well, she didn’t perform, but did play the piano during rehearsals and was the “orchestra leader”. I recognized her and remembered her as the evening wore on. She’s already playing her part with hilarious zeal.
            Heidi and Amy are going to be an excellent Voodoo Woman and Lorraine. Heidi enjoyed the over-the-top cackling and Lorraine (if the read-through is any indication) will play it with a nervous fluster. She and the character Pete Bogg are the only sane characters in the play.
            Ryan is taller than I am (and I’m 6’3”) and will make a fine Bubba. I suspect he is less than half my age – a man young enough to be my son is playing my childhood bully…
            Brad grew up a few blocks north of me. I am older than him by four years – a geologic time when it comes to childhood. It was the first time I got to meet him as an adult. It was nice catching up with him even for only a few minutes before the read-through. Who would have thought three kids from the Cobbler’s Knob section of Coulterville would be part of a play thirty-plus years later? Must be something in the water.
            Fifteen more rehearsals to go. More news as it develops…
 
Original Material Copyright 2013 Michael G Curry
             


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Oh God, Body Grease! Murder in the Magnolias, Act One

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Oh God, Body Grease! “Murder in the Magnolias”, Act One
 
 
                In 1981 our high school drama club selected “Murder in the Magnolias” as their spring play. It was written in 1980 by Tim Kelly and is a spoof of “Southern plays” – Tennessee Williams and his ilk.
                I tried out for and was cast as Thornbird Chickenwing III, a Tennessee Williams-like poet who has multiple personalities. It is recommended by the author that he is played slightly effeminate. In one scene he is in drag, playing his own sister; and in another his grandfather’s grandfather.
                “Murder in the Magnolias” is appropriately silly with lots of caricatures insulting each other. The humor is broad and slapstick is present but fitting – hopefully it won’t be too over-the-top. Most of the humor comes from the characters verbally one-upping each other (“…any fool knows that.” “You know it…”). Very few characters possess any reason or common sense.
                It is a murder mystery. The mystery is not only who did it, but also is how can this motley crew of morons and locos identify the killer before anyone else drops off. And bodies drop in every act. Part of the fun in being in the audience is guessing who is next as well as who dunnit.
                We never got to perform the play in 1981. Our director, the art teacher, was fresh out of college and only about four years younger than the oldest of us. She was a very sweet lady but unable to handle the rougher students. She didn’t know how to crack the whip. That’s important when trying to herd students.
                But the students in the drama club weren’t the ones taking advantage of her meekness. The students who really gave her trouble were the ones waiting for our sixteenth birthday so we could leave school and get working at jobs we’d have the rest of our lives. You could do that back then.
                There was another problem that finally put the fatal wound in our production.
                Being of that age, the student cast had hormones a-ragin’. When one cast member was done with his part, he whisked himself away to his girlfriend’s house in another town. More than once the director wanted to rehearse the scene again, but the principal player of the scene was basking in the glow of love.
                The lead was replaced with another girl (I’m not being a pig here – we’re dealing with fifteen and sixteen-year-olds – hence “girls” and “boys”…). Why she left I do not remember. Trouble was the replacement had just won a fierce battle with the other female lead over rightful possession of a boyfriend. The two former female leads were best friends. The replacement not only “stole” the boyfriend of one cast member, but replaced that cast member’s friend in the play. Fur flew.
                And our meek director was powerless to knock heads together and douse everyone with cold water. With less than a month to go half the cast walked out. We remaining cast discussed putting on a play of small skits we would write ourselves. I didn’t think it would be very successful or funny so I left too. A few of the walk-outs were sitting on some sidewalk steps near the school and I congratulated them on their courage – they left the sinking ship just in time.
                No play that year.
                Flash forward almost 33 years. My friend Stephanie announced on her Facebook page that the Sparta (Illinois) Community Chorus was putting on “Murder in the Magnolias” as their spring play and they were holding open auditions December 14th.
                “I still have the playbook,” I posted.
                “You should try out,” Stephanie said.
                “I don’t think the dress in Act Two would fit me anymore,” I said.
                I thought seriously about it, talked it over with my wife and decided to try out for a part. A small part.
                After high school the only acting I did was for a local children’s program produced by the PBS affiliate. I wrote for the show and was asked to play the part of the evil Count Puzzleton during the show’s pledge-break extravaganza. I agreed. As was the case with most local PBS productions – it was cheesy and over-acted. But I had a lot of fun!
                I was a DJ for ten years and did some stand-up in Springfield, IL. The little stand-up I did in Carbondale was from introducing the main act at the city’s “comedy club” (read: bar with a stage and microphone – I think the biggest talent we got to perform there was Emo Phillips. No slight to Emo, he’s very funny, but that was the biggest name we drew).
                So aside from a few personas, imitations and performances of “skits” during commercials (“Gee, Jane, this coffee tastes like shit.” “He never talks about my coffee that way at home…” “Then try new Folger’s Carcinogenic…”); I haven’t acted since 1986. And even that was on television where I could do it take after take if we goofed up.
                As a lawyer I “act” in court, I suppose. Sometimes a bit of faux outrage or an ad-libbed quip can save the day (this bit is part of a legal record of a case; I am quite proud of it: Judge: “This was filed last night at 8:00, (turns to me) Counsel have you had a chance to review this?” Me: “Your honor, I have a ten-month old baby at home, I was asleep by eight – I was in bed by ten…”).
                The last time I trod the boards was in 1982 as Felix Unger in “The Odd Couple” – my senior year with the Coulterville High School Drama Club.
                At that same time I played an extra (George) in the SpartaCommunity Chorus (it was called something else back then) in “Oklahoma”. I had one line – “sounded like a shot” and danced in the fantasy sequence. OK! Yow!
                December 14th was the day of my family’s Christmas party. That evening my wife and I went to Powell Symphony Hall in St. Louis to watch the Symphony perform Mannheim Steamroller’s Christmas. I wouldn’t be able to sneak in an audition that day.
                No problem, said Stephanie, you can audition the next day, the 15th. There are a few others auditioning that day as well. And so I agreed to audition. My daughter stayed overnight at my sister’s while we went to the concert; and Sunday morning it was back to Coulterville to pick her up; then to Sparta to audition.
                I last saw Stephanie in 1996 at the hospital at which she worked when my father was admitted there – otherwise I had not seen her since 1982 (Facebook pics aside). She is a year younger than I and we lived across the street from one another. I’ve known her since our toddlerdom. It was wonderful to see her again.
                At the audition, I tried out for two of the smaller parts – Colonel Rance Chickenwing – the Big Daddy of the play and its first victim – and Thornbird. When I was done reading, my daughter piped out from the audience in her four-year-old voice, “Are you done, Daddy?”
                “Everyone’s a critic,” I told the four judges, two of whom were Stephanie and her adult daughter. They all laughed. When I was done they asked if I was willing to do two roles, as the number of men auditioning was small.
                “Sure,” I said with more confidence that I would have had if I thought about it. They gave me a copy of the playbook – in much better shape than my original – and thanked me. I was hopeful – they wouldn’t give me a playbook if they didn’t intend for me to be in it, would they?
                We drove seventy miles to our house; my wife put my daughter down for her nap and I stayed outside to repair the Christmas lights that had been savaged by a snowstorm of a few days before. When I went inside my wife said Stephanie had called – I had been cast as Rance AND Thornbird!
                Why? Why do I want to do this? Why drive seventy miles one-way two or three times a week and leave my wife and four-year-old alone all evening?
                I could be cavalier and say it is because I am a big ham and love the sounds of applause, but it is more than that.
                Perhaps it is a bit of mid-life crisis. Instead of buying a Harley or a canoe, I perform in a play.
Perhaps it is something from my past that was left incomplete and I want closure. But it’s not as if cancelling the play in 1981 scarred me for life.
                Perhaps it is a little of both… plus …
                I’m doing it to give me something fun to do. To meet some old friends and make some new ones.
                My work is challenging – I’m not doing this to escape work drudgery – but there is a sameness to it and being in a silly play will help me escape that a while. For the past four years it has been me, my wife and the baby. The baby is starting to get older and has her little friends at the day care; my wife sings in the choir in church and during Christmas and Easter practices with them. This would be … my thing to do.
                I knew I would have sympathetic audition judges – I had practiced these lines during the first few months of the Reagan administration and knew the play – and that gave me the courage to want to do it. I don’t jump into anything with both feet – I’m definitely the kind to stick my toe in first.
                Will this lead to more? If it works out, I hope so. It would be fun to be in more plays and musicals. Either in Sparta or (gasp) locally. It could be the start of a fun hobby.
                Future blogs in the next few months will review the characters and update on how rehearsals are going, etc.
                When I first considered trying out and performing in the play; I said it could be a lot of fun.
                Or it could be murder…
Copyright 2014 Michael G Curry
             


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I Finally Bury a Long-Dead Friend

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I Finally Bury a Long-Dead Friend

 

Begin the day with a friendly voice
A companion unobtrusive
Plays that song that’s so elusive
And the magic music makes your morning mood

Off on your way, hit the open road
There is magic at your fingers
For the Spirit ever lingers
Undemanding contact in your happy solitude

Invisible airwaves crackle with life
Bright antennae bristle with the energy
Emotional feedback on timeless wavelength
Bearing a gift beyond price, almost free

All this machinery making modern music
Can still be open hearted
Not so coldly charted
It’s really just a question of your honesty, yeah
Your honesty
One likes to believe in the freedom of music
But glittering prizes and endless compromises
Shatter the illusion of integrity

For the words of the prophets were written on the studio wall
Concert hall
And echoes with the sounds of salesmen

Spirit of Radio – Rush

I’d sit alone and watch your light
My only friend through teenage nights
And everything I had to know
I heard it on my radio

You gave them all those old time stars
Through wars of worlds – invaded by Mars
You made ’em laugh – you made ’em cry
You made us feel like we could fly.

So don’t become some background noise
A backdrop for the girls and boys
Who just don’t know or just don’t care
And just complain when you’re not there
You had your time, you had the power
You’ve yet to have your finest hour
Radio.

All we hear is Radio ga ga
Radio goo goo, Radio ga ga
All we hear is Radio ga ga
Radio blah blah, Radio what’s new?
Radio, someone still loves you!

We watch the shows – we watch the stars
On videos for hours and hours
We hardly need to use our ears
How music changes through the years.

Let’s hope you never leave old friend
Like all good things on you we depend
So stick around cos we might miss you
When we grow tired of all this visual
You had your time, you had the power
You’ve yet to have your finest hour
Radio – Radio.

Radio Gaga – Queen

 

                I’ve loved broadcast radio ever since I was a little child. Late at night (sometimes past midnight! Ooo…) I would turn on my AM radio shaped like Superman and slide under the covers to listen to my favorite stations. Going up and down the dial I would sometimes get Mexico, but usually I listened to rock-and-roll programs.
                As I got older and my radios/stereos got bigger and better I discovered FM stations. And LPs. Now I was really rocking and rolling.
                But as was the case with some friendships, things changed. The relationship soured.
                I was a disk jockey for ten years during (mostly) the 1980s. I got tired of hearing the same songs repeated – I joked that I suffered from Bachman Turner Overdose. The name was a pun on one of the more overplayed groups.
                My job as a DJ, in my mind, was to share music with the listener. Here’s a good song, here’s another one. Here’s a rare track you probably haven’t heard before, but I hope you like it. Here’s something brand new. Yes, that was the Rolling Stones, but here’s Budgie! Yes, that was Boston, here’s Badfinger!
                A show had a flow and ebb. Slow songs giving way to fast songs and then back to slow songs. In between I would pepper information about the songs. “That was Larry Knechtel on bass on that song by the Doors. He was later a member of Bread. Can you believe a person from Bread playing with the Doors?”
                I left the business when I graduated law school. I moved to a large town to practice law where there were, at that time,  four stations that played rock music. I am too far away to get any rock stations from St. Louis – so I have to rely on these smaller markets.
                Two of the stations were quite far away – one changed over to country music and the other has become a band of static. I occasionally can hear what they play, but it is usually white noise.
                That left the oldies station and one last rock station. Presently, the oldies station plays mostly music from the late 1970s and 1980s, including Michael Jackson and Madonna. And lots of BeeGees. The disco stuff, not the older songs. That’s fine if you like that kind of music, but I do not. I want my oldies station to play …well … oldies. Beach Boys, Chuck Berry – when was the last time you heard Fats Domino on an oldies station?
                And the rock station … it aggravated me from the first time I tuned in. The DJs were mostly canned – I heard the same announcers while driving through Vermont. The local ones were awful. They mispronounced names. They got the songs wrong.
                When Linda McCartney died, Chrissie Hynde said her next album would feature a photo of her taken by Linda. The DJ said, “It doesn’t say here whether the photo was taken before or after her death.” I’d guess before.
                Another DJ said “House of the Rising Sun” was the biggest single the Rolling Stones ever had.
                My Facebook status often stated what the local dolt on the radio got wrong that morning.
                If you are going to be an announcer, it’s okay not to know everything, but check the pronunciations and facts before you say them.  I wasn’t a perfect DJ – I mispronounced names (I don’t think I ever said “Yehudi Menuhin” the same way twice … he did an album with Ravi Shankar I used to play the album on my New Age show), but only once. And I kept lots of reference books nearby to check session men, producers, writers, etc.
                By the way, the local morning dolt mispronounced Ravi Shankar’s name during his Beatles show.
                At the station I worked at in 1989 our clueless program director wrote this on a Left Banke CD – “mention this group features Steve Martin”. I had to write underneath – “not THAT Steve Martin”. I still hear him on the air when I drive through the city in which he works (I don’t want to say which one).  I expect he is telling everyone John Legend is his favorite Beatle.
                Back to the local “rock” station… I once described its format as Red Neck ‘n Roll. Zeppelin, Aerosmith, Skynyrd, repeat. A Facebook post of mine said if you tune in to the station and they are NOT playing Zeppelin, Aerosmith, or Lynyrd Skynyrd I would give you a dollar. One person posted. “Damn, you’re right.” 
                Every few weeks the station would change the songs. The artists would stay the same though. Every few hours they would play “Turn the Page” by Bob Seger. A few weeks later every few hours they would play “Hollywood Nights”. But always Bob Seger. Always Bob Seger.
***
                I got a new car in July. Well, new to me. It has a CD player as well as an MP3 player. My wife lets me use her ipod and I filled it with songs I have on CD but have not heard on the radio since … well, since I played them.
                My old car only had a cassette player – it was a 1999 model. I listen to cassettes but they would wear out or I would get as tired of hearing them as I was tired of listening to the radio.
                On the Thursday before I got my car (on that Saturday), I had the oldies station on. They did their top-of-the-hour station ID. “WQRL,” it said (real station).
                “Cue Home Depot commercial,” I said.
                A Home Depot commercial came on.
                I shut off the radio and haven’t listened to it since. I finally accepted the fact. My friend is dead.
                Now I listen to CDs or my ipad/pod for music and audiobooks while I drive. The issue of bulky, flimsy and repetitive cassette tapes is behind me. So is broadcast radio.
                There may be stations that broadcast the way they used to, somewhere.
                 There is an independent public station in Carbondale that plays an eclectic mix. A woman who once worked with me at the local NPR station works there and plays her jazz and big band favorites. She fled the NPR station when it went to all-classical – they would have gotten rid of Morning Edition, All Things Considered and (gasp) Prairie Home Companion if they could have gotten away with it. She is knowledgeable about the genre and has a good voice. I like her show. I like a few others – one fellow plays folk music – but some of it still has the taint of a bad college station. Oh boy, more punk raga… Happy 1987 everyone…
                Perhaps someday I will explore satellite radio and see what choices it gives me. No DJs or commercial interruptions sounds good, but are their playlists diverse enough to keep me from running my car into a tree? “Turn the page .. Woo-ooooo-woo-oo-oooooooo….”
                Goodbye old friend. I have happy memories of for sharing that Superman radio and using you to test out the stereo I got for Christmas. 
Well you can’t turn him into a company man
You can’t turn him into a whore
And the boys upstairs just don’t understand anymore
Well the top brass don’t like him talking so much,
And he won’t play what they say to play
And he don’t want to change what don’t need to change

There goes the last DJ
Who plays what he wants to play
And says what he wants to say, hey hey hey…

And there goes your freedom of choice
There goes the last human voice
There goes the last DJ

Well some folks say they’re gonna hang him so high
‘Cause you just can’t do what he did
There’re some things you just can’t put in the minds of those kids

As we celebrate mediocrity all the boys upstairs want to see
How much you’ll pay for what you used to get for free

Well he got him a station down in Mexico
And sometimes it’ll kind of come in
And I’ll bust a move and remember how it was back then

The Last DJ – Tom Petty
Original material copyright 2013 Michael G Curry

I SELL OUT, or MICHAEL CURRY, CORPORATE WHORE

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I SELL OUT, or MICHAEL CURRY, CORPORATE WHORE

There will soon be advertisements on my blog.

I don’t mind.  As long as the ads aren’t intrusive – pop up mid-sentence for example. You can always scroll past the ads to read these pithy posts.

My blog has viewers all through the world. Just last month there were 11 views from Russia and 4 from China. People from Sweden, Brazil and Indonesia have also looked. If you type “George Harrison discography” in Google my blog is second. How cool is that? I’ve had views from the Netherlands and New Zealand, but that is probably my cousin and my wife’s cousin respectively. In the USA viewership creeps up to a hundred!  Most of it may be me reading and editing my own stuff. There is no better editor than the “send” button. The real number may be a quarter to a half less.

And true, these numbers are peanuts compared to some bloggers, but I’m very happy with my “viewership”.  That’s why I decided to ruin it all by allowing advertisement.

Before the company that places the ads does so, I still have to be “approved” by them. This means they read through my blogs to make sure I do not espouse any nasty things: pornography, excessive profanity, telling you how to hack into NORAD, drug contents (there goes next week’s post…), selling beer, tobacco, prescription drugs, weapons, designer knock-offs, adult or mature content and “(c)ontent related to racial intolerance or advocacy against any individual, group or organization (sic)”.

The last one made me curious.

And got me thinking …

In fall of 1980 I was in high school. Most of the memories I have of high school are of selling things. Education was third of fourth down the line. We sold things to raise money for the band, we sold things to raise money for club functions; we sold things to raise money for class trips.

We sold everything from candles to cantaloupes. Well, alphabetically those aren’t that far apart…

We sold everything from pens to pizza.  Hmm, those aren’t that far apart either…

That fall of 1980 we students were herded into the gymnasium to meet a salesman. He was to show us our next big sales project. I don’t remember what he wanted us to sell and I don’t remember most of his pitch. I only remember one line….

“The school’s top-selling student will win a chance to go see the Presidential Inauguration.” His next line provoked a response from me. I was third row from the back.

“Wouldn’t you like to see next year’s Inauguration?” he said.
“Depends on who wins,” I said. It got a laugh from my fellow students. He laughed too and went on with his presentation.

I was serious, though.

Flash-forward to 1988. I was a DJ in Carbondale and part of my job was making commercials. Liquor stores, record stores, clothing stores, Wicca and New Age boutiques, you name it.  One boutique wanted a sinister commercial. Their first ad was pulled because the “spokesman” was a little boy who spoke of selling “sacrificial knives”. Was this a Satanic Rites store? My ad had the same script, but I read it, not a 10-year-old. Behind my voice was the omnipresent “Tubular Bells” and me chanting “Mary Had a Little Lamb” backwards. I told my supervisor it was the Lord’s Prayer backwards and had to play it back to prove it was “Mary…” when the General Manager threw a fit.

But I refused to do a political commercial. “I’m not going to be the spokesman for this guy. He’s running against a man I know and a friend of my family. Enn. Oh.”

I’m surprised I wasn’t fired. But they gave the commercial to someone else. My guy won in a landslide, by the way.

I avoid politics in this blog. If you read between the lines, you can probably tell where I stand. The following paragraphs will likely clear things up for you…

My Facebook page is filled with memes, articles and my own political rants. But I don’t want to do that here (this blog being the sole exception). And I don’t want the advertisements on my blog to do it either.

I’m not allowed to have any “(c)ontent related to racial intolerance or advocacy against any individual, group or organization (sic)” in my blog. What if the ads do? What if it contains ads for Chic-Fil-A or advertises Orson Scott Card’s Enders movie out this fall?

What if it is an ad for Papa John’s or Hobby Lobby – whose billionaire-owners refuse to provide health care for their employees? True, by doing so they will lose one-tenth of one percent of one day’s profits, but …

Or Wal-Mart who refuse to pay their employees a living wage and allow the people who make their products in fourth-world countries (those countries that don’t even reach the level of a third world country…) to live a below-starvation-level “life”? Those that haven’t been killed in factory fires, of course…

What if an ad asks you to vote for someone whose website shows scope-sites on certain politicians and who dares to play the victim when one of their mindless followers shoots the certain politician?

Perhaps even mentioning this will make the ad company “deny” placing their ads with me. Well, that’s okay – if those are the kinds of ads they place.

Gold scams, weight-loss scams, timeshare scams; those I can accept those.

We’ll see how it plays out; but if the ads piss me off enough I may withdraw from it.

In the meantime, enjoy the blog. This will be my only politically-tinged rant. I promise. More comics, Beatles and nerd-culture blogs to come.

Copyright

ONE LITTLE TRUMPET RIFF

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ONE LITTLE TRUMPET RIFF
            I subscribe to an APA – Wikipedia calls it “a group of people who produce individual pages or magazines that are sent to a Central mailer for collation and distribution to all members of the group.  APAs were a way for widely distributed groups of people to discuss a common interest together in a single forum before the advent of electronic bulletin boards or the internet.
            In 2001 the subject of the APA I belong to, called WAPA (standing for “Western” and later “Wacky” and then, simply, “W”) was Beatlemania. I kept my contribution (or “zine”) for that WAPA and thought I would share it here.
           Ye Gods, I could fill volumes with musings over the Beatles. Fortunately, volumes have already been written about them – from their music to their movies to their life stories to their children and brothers and sisters’ life stories to their affect on popular culture. This is my take on things…
            The Beatles had an absolute impact on my life and my taste in music. When John Lennon was killed one classmate was surprised I went to school that next day instead of staying home mourning (much like Harrison’s recent death, I didn’t hear about it until the next morning in the car).
            The first song I remember hearing and enjoying distinctly was Paul McCartney’s “Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey”. I was hypnotized by the trumpet riff in the middle of the song.
            Some years later my brother went into the Air Force. He decided to give me his old albums – including the soundtrack to “Jesus Christ Superstar” and some Richard Pryor albums. Included in the stack were four Beatle albums – the greatest hits packages from 1973 (“Beatles 1962-1966” and “Beatles 1967-1970” known as the Beatles Red & Blue), “The Beatles” (known as the White Album – Red, White & Blue, get it?), and “Alpha & Omega”.
            Alpha & Omega was a bootleg greatest hits package covering their career and included some solo work. The mixing was horrible (although I didn’t notice at the time), but it was a big enough seller that the Beatles decided they were missing the gravy train and released their own “best of’ – the aforementioned Red & Blue.
            At that age I mostly enjoyed their work before 1967 – I have since grown to love their later experiments. Those four albums (ten disks in all) was quite a primer.
Alpha & Omega had a lot of album cuts you didn’t hear much on the radio. The solo works included “Imagine”, “Bangladesh” and “Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey” – “There’s that song!” I exclaimed. Oh how wonderful, I played it and played it, loving every second of it.
            The tune probably influenced my decision to learn to play the trumpet beginning at age 11. The first thing I did when I got it home was practice the notes. I managed to finger the right notes for the trumpet interlude to “Admiral Halsey” and had it written out and played it well by the time of my first lesson.
            The tune therefore led a life devoted to music – collecting albums, learning to play piano and guitar, and ten years as a DJ. All because of one little trumpet riff on a song by an ex-Beatle.
            Album collecting in the 1980s was a passion for me. It was a rush to find some rare out­of-print piece of vinyl — McCartney’s “Thrillington”, the various 1960’s soundtracks by Harrison & McCartney, etc. Plus bootleg LPs of concerts and outtakes.
            One triumphant purchase I especially remember: I saved and saved and spent $40.00 for Paul McCartney’s “Back in the USSR”, released only in the Soviet Union. I got my copy from someone who smuggled it into the free world. I had a friend in law school, whose parents were Russian, read the album to me. I played tracks from it on the radio proudly boasting about its rarity. It was later released in the USon CD, complete with English translation of the liner notes. I still mope.
            I had most of the tracks from the “Beatles Anthology” series on record almost a decade before their official release. It was one of the few times I wished I were still a DJ — I would have loved to have played “Some Other Guy” or “Mailman Bring me No More Blues” officially instead of tucking them between two other Beatle tunes (“We have this on a reel to reel, I have no idea where this came from.”).
           As a teenager, I asked for the Beatles albums for Christmas and birthday gifts. My love of the Beatles naturally (okay, obsessively) led to my enjoying other rock groups — the Moody Blues, Rolling Stones and the Who, solo Beatle projects, etc. The radio would play Yes and the Eagles in between the sacred Beatles hymns. My life was listening to (and playing) rock and roll anthems.
            In high school I started reading my first books about the Beatles — their lives and music. I realized we Americans had been shafted! In England, they would release an album with fourteen songs or so. In the US, they would take about six or seven of those songs, pad it with released singles and “B”-sides and make a new own album. In England, they released “Rubber Soul” and “Revolver” while the USreleased “Rubber Soul”, “Yesterday and Today”, and “Revolver”.
            The Beatles didn’t like that arrangement — they spent long hours arguing over the position of the songs — to give the album an ebb and flow (a lost art nowadays). I wanted to hear the songs the way nature intended as well, and my quest for only the British releases ensued for the next several months. Everyone else in the country must have realized the same thing — suddenly British editions of the albums were (thankfully) easy to find. A record store next to a Panterra’s Pizza restaurant in Belleville, Illinoissold the British releases. Note this was decades before ebay. After several months and lots of pizza I completed by collection.
            When the Beatle albums were released on compact disks, it was the British versions. The only exception was “Magical Mystery Tour”, this was the American version, with some added singles from the same time period.
            Some years later “Yellow Submarine” was released. Side Two contained other previously-released Beatle songs from the movie instead of the original instrumental soundtrack music.  The album is better for it. It was the last cassette tape I bought – excellent music to listen to in the car!
            With the CD’s “Past Masters Vol. I & II” all of the Beatles officially released output are available on CD. With “Live at the BBC” and “Anthology I — III”, most of the unreleased work is available as well. Now the rarities are the old American albums we tossed aside in the mid-1980s — like “Something New” and “Hey Jude”.
            To me Beatlemania describes the maelstrom of publicity surrounding the group. As much as the members griped about it later in life, they certainly enjoyed it at the time. Their arguments that the mania was horrific are hard to fathom — their interviews take place in a limo heading to a private jet to take them to their mansion in the Bahamas. Old joke: Fame is a curse, “I should be so cursed”.
            In truth, one thing bad about the mania was it detracted from the music. It is obvious nowadays that talent has little to do with fame — as long as you smile for the camera and be seen with the right people at the right places you don’t have to worry about the music: let the producers and the A&R Men worry about selling records.
            One forgets the most important part of the Beatles — they weren’t lovable mop tops, they were musicians and composers, damn good musicians and composers. The Beatles were not the first superstars to cash in on their success through marketing — Elvis, Johnny Ray, Sinatra and Valentino all graced covers of “teeny-bopper” mags — but the Beatles’ publicity machine certainly went to extremes. In Americathe machine was headed by, of all people, Pat Boone. He obtained the license to sell official Beatle items. “Black market” items were rife just as it is today (as all those parking lot T-shirt and shoe salesmen will deny).
            Yes there were public appearances on variety shows and special magazine supplements, plush pillows, salt-and-pepper shakers, cake toppers, TV dinner trays, jigsaw puzzles; the list goes on and on. Books have been dedicated solely to Beatle collectibles.
            Currently, it is almost expected for stars to grace shirts and throw rugs, have dolls made of them, and even al Saturday morning cartoon, but the Beatles were the first. Folkie-rock star Jewel wrote a book of poetry — John Lennon’s second book of poetry was released before she was born. Child actresses Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen had a syndicated cartoon. Ringo’s grandson watched reruns of the Beatles’ animated TV show long before. Singer Marian Carey’s movie flopped. “Magical Mystery Tour” flopped, but do you think “Glitter” will be called an “amazing portrayal of the times” thirty years from now (actually it is a portrayal of the times — plotless, soulless and very boring)?
            And the comic books (you don’t think I could go this long without mentioning comics books do you?). The Beatles had an “official” comic in 1964 published by Dell illustrating their rise to fame. Later Dell published the comic version of “Yellow Submarine”. In the 1990s Revolutionary Comics did an eight-part series on the lives of the Beatles as a group and as individuals. It’s very hard to find, but worth it. Marvel Comics in the 1970s released a Beatle comic — no, they didn’t fight Galactus; it was another history of the group.
            Otherwise the Beatles appeared as themselves only as an incidental part of the plot: they appeared in Laugh (Archie), Jimmy Olsen, Jerry Lewis and teen romance comics. Mostly comic book writers (fearing having to pay a royalty), just had four or five long hairs calling themselves all kinds of insectoid names — the Mosquitoes, the Roaches, the Bugs, etc.
            The mania surrounding the Beatles was overboard even by today’s standards. But now it is, like the music and movies, also part of Beatle lore. We can either shake our heads or join in on the frenzy. See you at the flea markets!
Copyright 2013 Michael G. Curry