Tuesday, January 21, 2014

What's the name of that - ?



And if you don't know the name of it, and it's hard to describe, and nobody else knows what the fxxk you're talking about. . .

This was a while ago, and I was going to post on it, then, mysteriously, lost interest and deleted everything I had on the subject. Then, inexplicably, my interest was piqued again.




It was those, whatchamacallits. You know what I mean. Those pictures that went back and forth. ("Back and forth?"). You know, there'd be a picture, then you turned it, and then there'd be another picture! ("Turned what?") The picture!!

When I was a kid, we all had these, these things that flashed back and forth. Some of them were religious, like the Last Supper flashing back and forth with the Crucifixion. The material wasn't paper, but a plastic-y stuff, rough with lines going both ways, kind of . . .

Try googling that.






I got nothing. I got blank stares. Nobody remembered this. I didn't know what to call them, which didn't help. But I knew they were real, I knew I had seen them and even owned them, and that everyone else did too and they just didn't remember! You could get one in the bottom of a Cracker Jack box, for God's sake. Then I just stumbled on a word that seemed to clear the fog a bit.

Lenticular.

The word could also mean cloud formations (!) and a lot of other things, but I finally found a teensy bit of material - I just squeaked it out, though YouTube videos were almost nonexistent. Why weren't there gifs of these things? Hadn't anyone collected them, the way you'd collect bubble gum cards or dryer lint or popsicle sticks?




I wish I'd kept mine from childhood, all of them, the Beatles and Fess Parker and Speedy Gonzales (whom I thought was called Speedy Guns Alice, though I wondered why he was a boy). Much more recently, I had some religious ones from the Vatican gift shop (religious gift stores abound with these things), then somehow, mysteriously, I must have thrown them away. I had a packet of stickers that were lenticular, from back when I wrote actual letters on paper and mailed them (and some of them had google-eyes, too). What happened? When did all this disappear?






I still don't have a lot of information on "those things, you know, that flash back and forth with two pictures", except some pretty far-fetched stuff on Wikipedia that says lenticular technology was invented in the 16th century by Sir Thomas More when he was fiddling around in the Tower trying not to go mad with boredom. Or something. The examples looked stupid and unlikely, more like fancy medieval ash trays.

But this one, proving the technology IS pretty old, is nice, and seems to tell the life story of a particular person.




Still and all, like the big tile display above with all the people on it, I'm not sure this is really lenticular. Unless it's going on in secret, nobody keeps these, not the old ones anyway, as if they're somehow ashamed of them, though some are making new ones in 3D that don't count at all because they're too good, not cheesy enough to suit me. For God's sake, they're not supposed to be good!

Then again. Maybe there are some really filthy ones, some private collections not available on eBay, but maybe on Smutbay or something. Involving horses, penises and unseemly acts.

This was the closest I could find to smutty, and it ain't much, but at least they didn't just throw it away.








My favorite scene from Amadeus




Everybody remembers this primal scene from Amadeus, when Salieri comes to realize that this snotty little pipsqueak he's been dealing with is the unlikely (unfair!) vessel for the Voice of God. His dotty little wife asks him, "Is it not good?" in the ultimate musical irony.

I made a gif out of the core of it, but then decided I needed to include the 3-minute clip, with the older Salieri attempting to explain his reaction to the music. The sheets sliding on to the floor is one of the most striking images in all of filmdom, and surely, seeing it again, F. Murray Abraham (now reduced to voice-overs on PBS nature shows) earned his column of plated gold.

(But what in God's name ever happened to Tom Hulce?)





Impromptu: mon amour




This was one of those Sherlock jobs, made easier for me by the internet (and how did I ever survive before? It would take months, and usually I would have to give up.) I was watching TCM, and there was a filler on about Spencer Tracy, one of my least favorite of the old-school actors. The piece was narrated by Burt Reynolds, so it was doubly cursed. But it had classical piano music in the background, and one piece snagged me. I had no idea who had written it or what it was called, though I did remember looking it up once before, years before, then forgetting all the information about it.

So which CD was it on, if any? Did it come on the radio, back when CBC Radio had anything to offer? Did I hear some pretentious concert pianist play it long ago, back when the VSO had anything to offer except middle-of-the-road, endlessly-repeated pulp? I couldn't say, and for all my poking around I couldn't find it, because it was too late to play things on YouTube with my sleeping husband in the next room.

This morning I thought I had the answer, and it was pretty quick. It was on a rather silly CD, an attempt to make the supposedly dry, dull and irrelevant world of classical music appealing to the consumer. The CD was called Mad About Romantic Piano, with a ludicrous cartoon on the front that looked like something out of the New Yorker, and I only bought it because it had some of my favorites on it. (Back then you couldn't download just the pieces you wanted, or YouTube them, because such options did not exist yet.) I started methodically sampling each track down the list, and near the end I hit pay dirt.

This version of the Schubert Impromptu No. 3, which I like, though it's a tad fast (some play it at 7:30!), is by someone called Theraud, and it was part of the sound track for a movie called Amour. I think it had something to do with Alzheimer's, so it was likely depressing. I did go and see it, whenever it came out, eons ago.




I can't describe what music does to me, because there are never any words for it - that's why we have it, and need it. One of the best verbal interpreters of classical music was a nasty old recluse who eventually cut me dead because he wanted me out of his life, period, when I had not done anything to him at all. I was supposed to ignore this when he died (so alone that his colleagues of 25 years did not even know if he had any next of kin), and sing his praises. I couldn't. He was a bitter old man, for reasons which can't be explained here, either gay or asexual, and in the end I don't believe his words or his music were of any comfort to him. Because he had left no tracks and broken no ground in his life, his memory soon disappeared.

But maybe, for all his fatal flaws, he could have explained this. Maybe not. He stayed in his little pond all his life, while people's real praise of him was withheld until after he was dead. Let us now praise the dead, in the lavish, glorious way we never chose to when they were still alive. It's the human thing to do.

POST-BLOG POST: Turns out I was wrong. Amour won the Best Foreign Language Oscar last year! The one I saw eons ago must have been a totally different film. My sense of time is so strangely distorted now. I will see some bumph about a movie I enjoyed a couple of years ago, and it will turn out it came out in 1993. I do remember, vaguely, the hype around Amour (now that I've been reminded). This theme was used a lot and probably became a "hit" briefly, like some of the pieces in Amadeus, before sinking back into the slough of perceived boredom and obsolescence that is classical music.





Monday, January 20, 2014

Sister Wives: hot and bothered in the kitchen!





Janelle's Peanut Butter Fritos





Janelle's Peanut Butter Fritos

INGREDIENTS
  • 1 cup corn syrup, like Karo Syrup
  • 1 cup white sugar
  • 1 cup peanut butter
  • 1 large bag Fritos scoops

PREPARATION:

1. Spread fritos out on a big jelly roll pan turning them so most of the scoop sides
are up.

2. In a sauce pan combine corn syrup and sugar and stir gently.

3. Cook only until little bubbles begin to form. Do not cook too long or it will get
 too hard when it cools.

4. Remove from heat and mix in peanut butter until it melts. Pour over chips on pan.

Good to eat immediately. Sometimes we melt chocolate chips and drizzle 
over the top.

(Emphasis mine.)






Oh OK then. . . ONE more recipe. . .

Meri's Soda Cracker Surprise Toffee




Meri's Soda Cracker Surprise



INGREDIENTS

  • saltine crackers
  • 1 cup butter
  • 1 cup sugar
  • 1 package chocolate chips
  • 1 cup finely chopped walnuts

PREPARATION:

1. Line jelly roll pan with foil and spray with pan spray. Place saltine crackers close together covering entire pan.
2. Bring butter and sugar to boil for 2-1/2 minutes, pour over crackers.
3. Bake at 400 for 5 minutes. Pour chocolate chips on top, spreading as they melt. Sprinkle with chopped nuts.



So what does patriarch Kody Brown say about all this? "As polygamist cooking goes, this cookbook surpasses all the rest. I mean, our house hasn't seen a vegetable since 1983, but our starch favorites can't be beat! Right, Brigham?"








Mystery solved?

   


Could this be the one? 

Like the Handsome Prince, I have sought Cinderella for years now. I've schlelpped around a very big glass slipper - glass boot maybe  - trying to find The Car, the gaspingly beautiful car I saw a long time ago, years ago, when I was standing at a bus stop.

I don't care two figs about cars. I don't drive them, and I think they are the worst culprit in global climate change. I hate them, in fact. But every once in a while. . . 

I seem to favor the late '30s - early '40s models, maybe because they were featured in hyper-romantic movies like Casablanca. I love the bulges, the sleek lines, the tiny freakish rear windows you could barely peep out of.




Anyway, I was standing there minding my own business, when something sailed past me. A ship in full billow. It was huge, sleekly curved, and two-toned, painted gleamingly in maroon and cream with chrome trim. I remembered that there was a local car show on the weekend, and wondered if it had come from - somewhere - to take part in the annual orgy of hopeless yearning.

It did a strange thing then. Rather than drive on, it turned into a demi-strip-mall, but the driver didn't get out. He (I could just barely see it was a he) drove around the perimeter in a half-circle, very slowly, then pulled out and drove away.

Was it preening, primping, parading just for me, or were there other gawkers? It was obviously a vanity move. Look at me. Rather, look at "it", this treasure from another time, beautifully restored in probably about a billion hours for a billion dollars.

I realize now that in spite of the similar coloring, this isn't the car. There was more chrome on it, and the colors were placed differently, separated sort of diagonally.  It sloped down more dramatically at the back, and was quite a bit longer, with those odd covered back wheels I could never understand, giving the impression the car was growing out of the pavement. And it didn't have a running board, meaning it was probably a year or two newer than this photo.

For a long time I thought it was a 1940 Mercury Westergard, and I guess it's possible. Anything is possible, except I've never seen a Westergard (even in a photo) that wasn't gleaming cherry red. Seems like some sort of an automobilic law. 




But this is the closest I have come. It's called a Stowe Vermont Packard, which means  nothing to me except that many of the car photos I'm collecting now are Packards. 

It's not the car. But maybe a distant cousin. 


Sunday, January 19, 2014

Children of the Damned



                                                 
                                                 Cellophane Brand bread.
                                            Brings out the vampire in little girls.




  What is this gory mess, and why are there 1 1/2 hot dogs 
sitting on the table beside his plate?




Beware of Hamgirl!




Hamgirl's demented sister, Cakeface.




Mmmmm, mmm!


Beyond car




1950 Buick




Beauty!




1951 Hudson Hornet




Ditto (likely copied from identical image above)




1940 Oldsmobile




1942  Oldsmobile




Really old car




1938 Packard




Mid- '30s Packard (guess)




Gaspingly beautiful car (probably Packard)




Beyond car.


Cars I just happen to like. In no particular order. I like turquoise cars with lots of chrome trim (whatever happened to chrome? People used to brag that their cars had "lots of chrome".) I picked vintage magazine ads because they reminded me of Mad Men, but I cropped out most of the cars so I could use them as Facebook covers. Plus the ads are pretty repetitive, with too much text. I do like the backgrounds on a lot of them, but many of them have a sort of Dick and Jane quality, wholesome, indicating a "family car". (A couple of them are "artistic" in a way that is frankly gorgeous.) Interesting that the two Hudson Hornet ads depict identical cars, reminding me of the Harold Lloyd caricature which was obviously copied from a photograph. Maybe even traced.

I guess you can see I favor late '30s to early '40s. Cars were bulbous tanks then, with a certain erotic quality. You could get up to a lot in the back seat.


Before they were famous (most of them were nerds)





???


http://www.viralnova.com/young-famous-people/

Friday, January 17, 2014

Hey, Landlord (please don't put a price on my soul)




Gotta go fast here - no time - but in scrounging around old TV on YouTube, I got into theme songs of either failed pilots or one-year wonders like this one. I don't remember much about the show, but I DO remember the theme song, which is why I looked it up. Oh yeah - it was just as great as I remember it! I didn't think I'd be blessed enough to find out who wrote the end theme, but. . .




Keep watching. You'll find out!



Thursday, January 16, 2014

My strange obsession: the auto-erotic car




Behold, the only car I've ever been truly obsessed with: the 1940 Mercury Westergard convertible. I thought I saw one of these driving around town years ago, before a local car show, but I may have been wrong. It was painted maroon and cream, with a lot of chrome trim. But it was basically the same enormous, bulbous shape, with rear wheels completely obscured (so how did they ever change a tire?).










It was only by digging around that I found out anything about this. There's nothing at all in Wikipedia except some sort of vague reference to the Ford Mercury line, started in 1937 by Edsel Ford (and we all know who HE was!). This wet dream of a car came later, when an auto-erotic genius named Harry Westergard  revamped the whole design.




In showrooms, they almost look pornographic. The universal gleaming cherry color, like a red lollipop that has been sucked and licked and set out in the sun, makes it look as if it would be hot to the touch. The car is both male and female, with a great thrusting phallus at the front (not to mention round, staring eyes and a bow-shaped, frowning mouth) and a big round ass in back, crouched almost as if in submission, waiting to be fucked (or for that tire to finally be changed).






When you think about it, it's downright obscene.

I want to slide down that fender-thingie (and I'm not even sure I should call it a fender, it's so odd-looking, like some sort of elevated running-board), curl up in the curvature of that massive trunk. I can only imagine what the interior looked like.




 Whew.




But that's not why we're here today, boys and girls. I am about to show you some truly-over-the-top Popeye porn.

It's from a cartoon called (strangely) Service with a Guile, and it's about an "admiral" (this must've been a wartime cartoon) who drives up in the car pictured above, wanting "just some air in the tires". Popeye, Bluto and Olive Oyl manage to  make a hash of the whole thing.




You know things are getting a little symbolic here: Olive rubs and rubs and rubs the fender, while the tire swells and swells.




Popeye goes into crisis mode. The fender suddenly bends up, looking alarmingly erectile. This car seems impossibly aroused!




But it just goes on and on. Though Bluto thinks he has solved the problem by shutting off the air, the tire just begins to "pock", burgeoning with straining balls of air like so many swelling breasts or engorged testicles. There is definitely something disturbing about this!

And I can't find the fifth one. Perhaps I saved it somewhere else? It pictures Popeye, Olive and Bluto being blown back through several walls, leaving them-shaped holes, before falling into a clothesline and into various outfits (Bluto is in some kind of corset) and taking off back to the ill-fated car.

Which, except for the color, looks exactly like the 1940 Mercury Westergard.




(Found it!)