Monday, November 22, 2010

4th Anniversary.

Good gracious. Yesterday was the fourth anniversary of the creation of this flog
, and I almost completely forgot. I've been very neglectful of it this year; only 10 columns all year, and none since August. I'm sorry, darlings. My column on The Huffington Post, combined with Little Dougie's other writing projects has left little time or energy for flogging here. Anyway, Let's have a few random bits here. Shall we?

Up at the top of the column is Little Dougie and I with Casey Turner, whom you may remember as Big Brother 11's Banana Man back in 2009, which I flogged, episode by episode, over on Ye Olde Huffington Post as it aired. This was taken by Casey's wife the night before the finale and reunion show, when we dined together. No joke here. Casey was one of the few - ever - players on that show I found likeable enough to ever want to be in the same room with, and we've kept in touch since the show ended. Casey's one of my very few victi - ah - subjects I've written about who took it with good humor. This flog has made me some nice friends, and Casey is one of them

How does one politely tell a lady that she has crabs?

December starts next week, and Santa has a great gift suggestion for those hard-to-shop-for people you can't stand.

So the Roy Rogers museum closed (I'd been meaning to be getting around to going to see it just as soon as it was the last tourist attraction on earth, for half a century now), and they auctioned the stuff off.

Trigger - stuffed - sold for $266,500.

Bullet the doggie - stuffed - sold for $35,000.

Buttermilk, Dale's horse - stuffed - sold for $25,000.

Pat Buttram - stuffed - sold for $15,350.

Norman Bates's Mother - stuffed - sold for $544,000.

Hmm. I wonder what I could get for Sarah Palin stuffed?

Oh, and the article I read said: "The Bible they used at the dinner table every night sold for $8,750." What was it used for? A serving platter? An appetite depressant? Table mats? I'd pay more than that to eat dinner every night where the was no Bible at all.

I love the new British PBS series Sherlock. It's VASTLY superior to that piece of shit movie that Robert Downey Jr. made last year. Even moved into the 21st Century, it's more authentically Sherlockian than that big budget, action movie dreck. How do you not love the star's name: Benedict Cumberbatch? It will be just terrible to learn his name is really Bill Jones or Sarah Palin. Anyway, Benedict is a welcome addition to such other stalwart Sherlocks looking on here as Basil Rathbone, Jeremy Brett, Peter Cushing and Little Dougie. LITTLE DOUGIE! What is he doing there? Sherlock Holmes never had a beard, other than Irene Adler, that is. I've got to supervise Dougie's handling of my illustrations more closely.

Who didn't love Tony Curtis? I would have, but somehow I ended up being the only woman in Hollywood besides Greer Garson that Tony never shagged. Tony, I like it hot, and you, baby, were hot.

And Barbara Billingsey died recently also, America's Mom. Poor Beaver and Wally, although one of those pearls from that pearl necklace she wore at all times, even when baking, will never fall into their food again.

Don't worry, my latest Studly Hunk isn't being arrested, but I had to resort to stern measures to get Gerard into my boudoir.

Little Dougie's delusions just get worse and worse. Jake's had to take out a restraining order.

Could someone explain to me how Walt Disney and his entire staff of Disneyland planners and construction people all failed to notice they were erecting a giant penis beside a huge pair of testicles? I mean, I'm not complaining; the erotic aspect of this structure always aroused me. Who doesn't love riding a big rocket? Little Dougie liked it more when TWA left and Douglas Aircraft became the sponsor, and they painted his name on the rocket, so it became a giant monument to his junk. (He's a dreamer!) But really, how could they miss it?

You see, the Rocket to the Moon was supposed to be just the first step. Walt planned to build a Disney Resort on the Moon. Lots of room for parking, but that 1/6th gravity makes for slow-moving rollercoasters. Space Mountain would take 2 hours to ride. Oh, and there's that little problem of no air.

There they are, the newly-elected Freshman class of congressmen elected by the insane, idiot teabaggers. Here they eye progressive social progress, and draw their evil plans against it, and prepare to deprive America of that socialist healthcare that they themselves are enjoying, since hypocrisy is the only thing beyond greed and stupidity that the teabaggers all possess. They are busy extending the Bush tax cuts for the rich but refusing to extend unemployment benefits. You know, if you voted for any of those moronic teabagger candidates, fuck you. But first, they need to go speed-dial batch-vote for Bristol Palin, so that fat little Teen Fascist who can not dance, or think, can win Dancing With the Republicans. Don't watch that show, or Sarah Palin's Alaska. Commercials for American Fascism is all they are.

My ex-husband Boris and his friend Bela were fired by Ozzie & Harriet, when they decided to recast the roles of David and Ricky for no good reason, and with kids yet! They claimed that people found the show scary with Boris and Bela on it. So what? Did it ever occur to anyone that it was Ozzie, the man with no job or visible means of support, and Harriet who were frightening people? And then it turned out that the kids they cast were their own children! What blatant nepotism!

Last, and definitely least, this lovely book is coming out quite soon (It's being printed right now), and Little Dougie wrote the forward, a long essay for the chapter on Seymour, and it even includes some of his TV and stage scripts for Seymour. Fortunately, Jim Fetters wrote the book, so it will be worth reading, especially if you grew up in Los Angeles in the 1950s, 60s, or '70s. When I have a release date and info on how you can acquire it, I'll post it here, but it will be soon.As hopefully my next posting will be. Meanwhile, read me over on The Huff Po, and Cheers darlings.


Matt Patton said...

How could you compare the insane, depraved creatures of the night to nice guys like Karloff, Lorre, and Lugosi. Sure, Lugosi and Lorre were both junkies, but still . . .

Matt Patton said...

The insane, depraved bunch referred to in the previous post were the new Republican congressmen.

Tallulah Morehead said...

Lugosi and Lorre were not "junkies," and I'll thank you to refer to these great men (well Peter Lorre anyway) more respectfully on my page. They had morphine addictions caused by Studio Dr. Feelgoods, just like Judy Garland and the rest of the Hollywood crowd of the 1930s and 40s, except me and Jean Harlow. Both men conquered their addictions.

Given his chronic, sometimes crippling, back problems, it's amazing Karloff never became addicted to painkillers. But then, he was English-Indian, whereas Lugosi and Lorre were both Hungarians. Or maybe that had nothing to do with it.

It is true that Lorre would be insulted to be grouped in with Republicans. He was a major, left-left-wing Hollywood liberal and intellectual.

RobP said...

Congratulations on four years, Tallulah!

Thanks for the link (from HuffPo) to Tony's pic - I guess he's a slave here, but I see him as a half-tamed gypsy, mad with desire for

Creatures of the Night... should be fascinating reading. In the Washington, D.C. area, where I grew up, the Saturday night Creature Feature host in the early 70s called himself Count Gore DeVol - it will be interesting to read about those in Southern California.

lump516 said...

Ah, studio doctors -- when they old Hollywood system fell apart, they all went to work for professional football teams from the sound of it. I also apologize for the use of the word "junkies." Lorre is one of my favorite actors, even if he has been dead for almost 50 years. And he didn't slip with age--I saw Corman's old horror comedy The Raven again recently, and Lorre had me in stitches (as did just about everybody but Jack Nicholson). And Lugosi was a lot better than he was often given credit for; between horror films, he was often a rock-sold supporting actor in more expensive productions (I think a lot of people forget he played Greta Garbo's boss in Ninotchka)

I think people forget what an incredible mecca for smart people Los Angeles became in the years after Hitler took Germany and then the rest of Europe, down the tubes--not just interms of people associated with the film industry, but writers, painters, composers, etc. And it isn't too shabby today, either. My aunt says she's seem more good theater while visiting Los Angeles than she ever has in New York. And at much better prices.

Tallulah Morehead said...

I think Jack Nicholson is very funny in THE RAVEN, a film I've seen countless times. He makes an interesting son for Peter Lorre, as their voices have such similarites. Lorre was geat at comedy, and improvised many of his throw-away lines in THE RAVEN. Richard Matheson, who wrote the picture, always said Lorre was the only actor he would allow to improvise in his scripts because: "Everything he came up with was so much funnier than what I wrote."

Lugosi had a magnatism, but let's be frank, he was a lousy actor. He comes off well in NINOTCHKA only because the role is too small for him to induge in his patented wild over-acting. Lugosi was a major ham, as well as an often-unpleasant companion.