According to my editor Simon (who, as I've said, could simply be protecting me from the truth), Barry Trotter and the Unauthorized Parody is the fifth-best seller in Ireland! Amazing! And not a leprechaun in it. (Actually, Kate's grandmother used to believe in leprechauns. As I've heard it, when she was a little girl back in Ireland, she happened to see one out of the corner of her eye, sitting on a hedge and peeing down on the ground.)



Also: last night I saw "Comedian." Really interesting documentary, much of which takes place at The Comedy Cellar down near NYU. That's my old stomping ground—right down from Minetta Tavern and that tiny little espresso joint I can't remember the name of...Guess that means it's time to move back.



Some of you may have heard about Orny Adams, the up-and-coming comedian that is juxtaposed to Jerry Seinfeld in the documentary. Orny's problem—which is much discussed in the movie, and makes him hard to watch—is that he's more angry than funny. He's an angerian, not a comedian. Listen up, everybody: comedy is NOT a substitute for therapy. If you try to avoid the latter by pursuing the former, it may work for a while—but then, you'll end up with a bunch of "jokes" poisoned by your own rage. Comedy can be a kind of redeemed rage--but the redemption is the key.

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There's yet another literary prize being established in Old Blighty: a 20,000 pound award for the best humor. You'd think I'd be going over there to walk around in a sandwich board, and you'd be right, except that it's for writers age 50 and up. Curses! You can find out the details here.

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Check this out! What a cover!

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Here's a short profile.

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...which was reviewed today in the Times. If the books are 1/10th as fascinating as the television program (and books usually surpass that with ease, for me at least), I must have them in my library. I'm also reading Gibbon, which is slow going but amazingly rich.



Last night Kate and I saw "The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen," which wasn't very extraordinary. More's the pity, because the comic books are spectacular. I highly recommend them to anyone reading this blog. Anyway, I found Harry Knowles review right on the money, if you're interested.



And then there's Freddy Vs. Jason, of course. How anybody who grew up in the 80s could resist this movie is beyond me...And here's how Ain't It Cool News is planning to celebrate.

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Here's an interesting article on the role that "honor" (and aggression) plays in the American South. He believes this hubristic code plays a role in American foreign policy. Worth a look.

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...this article in today's Times was right up my alley. Vernor's, the spicy ginger ale that is mentioned in the piece, is my drink of choice. I encourage everyone to try it--but watch out, that first swallow can make you cough! Anybody ever had Cheerwine or Manhattan Special?

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While browsing the internet--sorry, researching my next book--I discovered an interesting article about the Curator of the Harvard Lampoon. Actually, what I liked was the stuff about Lampy's building, built for them in 1909 by alumnus W.R. Hearst.



Also, the continuing troubles of Tony Blair are good news for Private Eye, according to this article. Thrive on, esteemed fellow travelers!

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...here's a great new Strong Bad.

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An entertaining article on a convention of fans of "The Big Lebowski" (which is, by the way, a delightful movie) contains the following quote, "'It’s kind of a ’Star Trek’ convention, but without all the geeks,' suggested Jon Cook, a 28-year-old Louisville salesman." Jim, I hate to be the one to break this to you, but...

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...to understand this article in today's Times about changing summer camps. Now some camps are allowing weekends home, liberal use of phone and email, et cetera. Kate and I don't have kids, but its seems incredibly neurotic--and missing the point of the camp entirely--to send your kid to camp, then have him/her schlep home every weekend. The only reason to spend eight weeks in a log cabin with a bunch of strangers is, I suppose, to prove to yourself that you can do something other than live as you normally do, and eventually learn to like it. Making the world into a Nerf-lined room is ridiculous and doomed. And I'll thank you not to quote this email back to me when we have kids, okay?



There's also a funny profile of Amy Sedaris' West Village apartment. From what I can tell, she lives about four blocks from my old place, down from the cutest candy store sign. Anyway, if somebody could die from benign craziness, I'd be very concerned.

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...courtesy of Jon Schwarz, who I hope is putting up his own blog soon:

""It appears to general observation, that revolutions create genius and talent; but those events do no more than bring them forward. There is existing in man, a mass of sense lying in a dormant state, and which unless something excites it to action, will descend with him, in that condition, to the grave. As it is to the advantage of society that the whole of its facilities should be employed, the construction of government ought to be such as to bring forward, by quiet and regular operation, all that capacity which never fails to appear in revolution."

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David Hampton, the con artist whose exploits among Manhattan's hoi polloi inspired the play and movie "Six Degrees of Separation," died last month. The Times has an interesting article about his life and crimes. That strikes me as an overly harsh word to describe what he did, but I suppose it's the one that fits...

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Pal Seth Oltman was Chairman of the Yale Record several years after I did my number on it. Now living in New York, training to be a lawyer (to, one hopes, protect his friend Mike from legal attack), he writes:



"Dear Mike,

Imagine my surprise Sunday night when I exited the 2 train at 96th Street, and noticed a guy on the platform wearing a HAMAS t-shirt. "That's pretty bold," was my first thought. "He's really out front there with his allegiances."



It was only when I got closer that I realized he was, in fact, wearing a BAHAMAS t-shirt. The two crucial letters were obscured by a backpack strap.



I guess the depiction of tropical scenery should have tipped me off..."

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I have been informed--I'm always the last to know--that Barry Trotter and the Shameless Parody has reached Estonia. I don't know what they did to deserve this, but here's the cover, for your delectation...(scroll down a bit)...Apparently this fellow is the top cartoonist in Estonia; I can't wait to see it full size and on paper!

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...then you'll love this online catalog of products from ACME. Many's the time when I could've used an ACME product or two. "Be popular! Be a rock!" With the ACME Artificial Rock, of course.

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Wanna know? Check this out. Chicago is #45, two slots ahead of New York, which makes me dubious...

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Some of you might've seen this before, but in my constant Beatle-related trolling of the Internet, I came across this transcript of Lorne Michaels' famous offer to the Beatles...



"April 24, 1976



(OPEN ON: LORNE AT DESK. THERE IS ONLY ONE CAMERA USED THROUGHOUT)



LORNE:



Hi. I'm Lorne Michaels, the producer of "Saturday Night." Right now, we're being seen by approximately twenty-two million viewers, but please allow me, if I may, to address myself to just four very special people -- John, Paul, George and Ringo -- the Beatles. Lately, there have been a lot of rumors to the effect that the four of you might be getting back together. That would be great. In my book, the Beatles are the best thing that ever happened to music. It goes even deeper than that. You're not just a musical group, you're a part of us. We grew up with you. It's for this reason that I'm inviting you to come on our show. Now, we've heard and read a lot about personality and legal conflicts that might prevent you guys from reuniting. That's something which is none of my business. That's a personal problem. You guys will have to handle that. But it's also been said that no one as yet has come up with enough money to satisfy you. Well, If it's money you want, there's no problem here. The National Broadcasting Company has authorized me to offer you this check to be on our show. (HOLDS UP CHECK) A certified check for $3,000. Here it is, right here. Dave -- can we get a close-up on this? Which camera? Oh, this one. (CAMERA MOVES IN TO SHOW CHECK) Here it is, a check made out to you, the Beatles, for $3,000. All you have to do is sing three Beatle songs.



(SINGS)



She loves you

Yeah, yeah, yeah ...



That's $1,000 right there. You know the words. It'll be easy. Like I said, this is made out to the Beatles -- you divide it up any way you want. If you want to give Ringo less, it's up to you. I'd rather not get involved. I'm sincere about this. If it helps you to reach a decision to reunite, it's well worth the investment. You have agents. You know where I can be reached. Just think about it, okay? (HOLDS UP CHECK AGAIN)



Thank you.



************************************

May 22, 1976.



Lorne: Hi, I'm Lorne Micheals, producer of Saturday Night. A short while ago I went on the air and addressed myself to John, Paul, George, and Ringo--the Beatles. At that time I invited them to come on our show, and told them that I was authorized by NBC to pay them in the sum of three thousand dollars for just three songs. Well, about a month has gone by. We've heard from the Monkees, Freddy and the Dreamers, Peter and Gordon, Herman's Hermits, the Cowsills, and Lulu; but still no word from the Beatles. I'm not discouraged and neither is NBC. Because of the recent acclaim we've recieved, I have the wieght to go to the network and convince them that it is worth it for them to sweeten the pot. John, Paul, George, and Ringo--NBC is now prepared to up the original offer from three thousand, to three thousand, two hundred. Can we get a close-up of the check? Which camera is it? As you can see, it's a check made out to you, The Beatles. Off the record, this increase comes to an extra fifty dollars for each of you. That's if you split it equally--I'm still not sure what your situation with Ringo is. Also, NBC has decided that they will take care of your hotel accomodations. Don Pardo, tell the Beatles what they can expect when they come to get that check for three thousand, two hundred dollars.



Don Pardo: It'll be my pleasure, Lorne. First of all, the lads from Liverpool will be picked up by a radio-dispatched Checker cab that will whisk them to the Cross Town Motor Inn, located in the heart of New York's fashionable garment district. Once there, they will check in in the recently renovated lobby; and then it's off to their rooms via round-the-clock elevator service. They'll be treated like royalty as pitchers of ice water are hand-delivered to their rooms, and they can drink that water from glasses sanitized for their convinience. Oops--Ringo spilled a little something on his jacket? No problem--not with prompt forty-eight-hour dry cleaning service! "In by Tuesday, out by Thursday." And let's just put a shine on those shoes, too, with a free shoe shine cloth. And, Lorne, since the Beatles will be staying in seperate rooms, the four Mop Tops can speak to each other as much as they want because there is no charge for room-to-room calls. And, after a hard day's night, the Beatles can sleep as late as they like with a leisurely checkout time of 10 A.M. That's the Cross Town Motor Inn, a hotel tradition, hosting New York's visitors since 1971. Yeah, yeah, yeah! Back to you Lorne!



Lorne: Thank you, Don Pardo. John, Paul, George, and Ringo, that's where we stand right now. Thirty-two hundred dollars, and free hotel accomodations. Now, it's your move. I've always respected you, and you were always my favorite group, and I always liked Yoko, even at the beginning when everyone was having problems with her. I would like to see you do our show, and so would the American people. You know where i can be reached. I'm waiting to hear from you."

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Jon forwarded this poem to me, which I thought was just great. I hope you agree.



Reality Demands



By Wislawa Szymborska



Reality demands

that we also mention this:  

Life goes on.  

It continues at Cannae and Borodino,

at Kosovo Polje and Guernica.  



There's a gas station  

on a little square in Jericho,  

and wet paint  

on park benches in Bila Hora.  

Letters fly back and forth  

between Pearl Harbor and Hastings,  

a moving van passes    

beneath the eye of the lion at Cheronea,    

and the blooming orchards near Verdun  

cannot escape  

the approaching atmosphere front.  



There is so much Everything

that Nothing is hidden quite nicely.    

Music pours

from the yachts moored at Actium    

and couples dance on their sunlit decks.    



So much is always going on,

that it must be going on all over.  

Where not a stone still stands  

you see the Ice Cream Man  

besieged by children.  

Where Hiroshima had been    

Hiroshima is again,

producing many products

for everyday use.  



This terrifying world is not devoid of charms,  

of the mornings

that make waking up worthwhile.

The grass is green  

on Maciejowice's fields,    

and it is studded with dew,

as is normal with grass.    



Perhaps all fields are battlefields,    

all grounds are battlegrounds,  

those we remember  

and those that are forgotten:  

the birch, cedar, and fir forests, the white snow,  

the yellow sands, gray gravel, the iridescent swamps,  

the canyons of black defeat,    

where, in times of crisis,  

you can cower under a bush.



What moral flows from this? Probably none.  

Only the blood flows, drying quickly,  

and, as always, a few rivers, a few clouds.



On tragic mountain passes  

the wind rips hats from unwitting heads

and we can't help  

laughing at that.

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Kate and I have returned, after a short vacation, tanned and rested and apparently blasphemous. I particularly like the one where the idiot is trying to TACKLE Jesus. How foolish is that? Everybody knows you can't pancake the Son of God. Think about what that scene would look like, particularly if some players were Hindu or something. All those Jesuses, then a few Allahs, and Vishnus. "C'mon you guys, let us play!"



In Barry Trotter news, fan Simon Stevenson has created an excellent crest for Silverfish House. You can gawk at it here. Click on the "Trotterstuff" folder, then "Official..." It's quite impressive. Simon's also put up a bunch of the covers from Barry's increasingly multitudinous foreign editions. It's great!

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