Rare Behind The Scenes Star Trek Footage

What is so rare as an outtake on the Desilu lot? Spock smoking, maybe.

In the land of Dairy Queen

I love the impossible: William Shatner is 87 today

Shatner is one of the obsessions I return to on this blog - this strange, oft-disjointed, almost-blog-about-nothing - because it inspires me so much to see a man of 87 (only Betty White has more supernatural energy) who could easily pass for 65. 

It's the horses, too - because very seldom do two of my major obsessions intersect in this way. If someone "gets" horses, then he automatically gets a piece of my soul.

(Author's note. Oh. My God.)

Back when I was so horse-heavy that I actually owned my own horse, in about 1967, I slavishly watched Star Trek, but I wasn't even particularly enamored of Kirk. It was Spock I loved. Spock of the ascetic, carefully-timbred voice, wickedly dark eyes, and strong Jewish-Indian jawline (and no, I don't mean that unkindly - it's just that for years, if not decades, Leonard Nimoy was restricted to playing Comanche warriors because of his looks). Kirk always struck me as a little - what, histrionic? "No blah blah blah!" is my favorite example. But it wasn't just that. Didn't turn my crank sexually, though at the time I was barely aware of those feelings. There were rumors that he wore a kind of slimming band under that Godawful polyester-spandex uniform. And in the one episode where Kirk and Spock both go shirtless, Spock wins hands-down in the WOWZY WOW WOW WOW category.

(BLOGGER'S NOTE. I now have proof that the Shat-man's bear rug far outfuzzes Spock's. For some reason, on shirtless occasions, he shaved his chest.)

But Shatner keeps popping up, even now, and always, and he somehow seems to have shed that whatever-it-was that I didn't like. When he was very young, he was almost too beautiful, and when I recently found out that his ancestors were Lithuanian, I began to put his looks in context. To me, he had never seemed quite the WASP matinee idol that he was made out to be. Those Slavic cheekbones, the slightly-slanted dark eyes that had dreaminess and hurt in them, these were from another world entirely. He grew up Jewish in Montreal, no doubt listening to Russian being shouted back and forth, and seen as somewhat crazy for trying to be an actor. For God's sake, Billy, get yourself a trade!

Well might his parents worry, but Billy rolled up his sleeves and became an actor. In some ways, at the start, he was a typical ex-patriot journeyman actor, playing roles and finding parts wherever he could. He was always in work, even after Star Trek folded and he spent a now-famous couple of years living out of his camper in the California desert. He even showed up in Canada a few times to film Loblaws commercials ("By God. . . the price. . . is. . . right!"), or ads for Shirriff pudding with mini-flavor buds (Eat the pudding, Bill. Eat the pudding: "Mmmmmmm!")

But there has always been another side to this man. When he's with horses, even now when he's just a bit chunky, he becomes that slightly-mystical Lithuanian again, resisting gravity on the back of one of his magnificent Saddlebreds. People who have never ridden don't understand  that on a horse, you can fly. You become the wings of Pegasus, mane-whipped, the wind singing your ears.

He's known as a blustery and arrogant sort, and though I am sure he has developed a serviceable outer persona which can weather all the vagaries of show business, I don't believe that's him. I have tried to watch that awful Old Man's show he is on now - Better Late than Never, it's called, and the less you know about it the better. I did force myself to watch the one where they travel to Lithuania, for obvious reasons (though he claimed his parents were Lithuanian, not his grandparents). What I notice is when all these other old guys (including Fonzie, that guy with the grill, a football guy, and somebody else - who cares? They all look older than he is, though they are way younger) are shouting and booming and blathering around him, he's often sitting there looking down at his hands, apart. I am convinced his true nature is sensitive and often dismayed. He was dismayed then, and he's dismayed now.

How I love his dismay.

Dismay and curiosity keep you in the game, because it means you are never satisfied. It means there always has to be more (more, more, MORE!).  He must have an astonishing gift for living in the moment, staying in the now. This day, the only day you can have any real influence on. It's rare that a man keeps that fire into his 60s and 70s, let alone beyond. If I ever meet him, and *I* am more likely to die before that happens than he is, I want to ask him one thing: did you make a deal with the devil? Is there some trick? Is it genetics, or - ? Because this can't be happening. Unless he has the best plastic surgeon in the world, or is a bona fide time-traveller, William Shatner is just not possible.

And how I love the impossible.

P. S. I wrote this post some time ago, then realized today is The Day, when he turns an impossible 87 years old. Every I time I see him, I think: No. . . . No. But there it is. People don't mention his age all that often, I guess because they don't quite believe it. 

Believe it. I know this is a cliche, but I think he's one of our national treasures.

Behold. . . SIR RICHARD!

Ringo Starr receives knighthood: 'I'll wear it at breakfast'

By Mark Savage BBC Music reporter 20 March 2018

Former Beatles drummer Ringo Starr receives his knighthood for services to music 

Beatles drummer Ringo Starr has been knighted for his services to music. 

The Duke of Cambridge bestowed the honour on the Liverpool-born star at a ceremony at Buckingham Palace.

"It means a lot actually," the musician told the BBC. "It means recognition for the things we've done. I was really pleased to accept this.

The honour comes 53 years after the Beatles were all awarded the MBE - and Starr said he had missed his bandmates' companionship this time round.
"I was a bit shaky today on my own," he said.


 

Ringo joined The Beatles in 1962, shortly after they signed their record contract

When The Beatles received their MBEs in October 1965, the occasion was not without controversy.

Rock and roll was still viewed with suspicion by the establishment and several previous honourees returned their medals in disgust.

John Lennon later claimed that the Beatles were so nervous at the idea of meeting the Queen they sneaked into a bathroom at Buckingham Palace for a cigarette.

"Who said that?" laughed the drummer after Tuesday's ceremony. "I'm not keeping that rumour going."


 

The Beatles at Buckingham Palace in 1965 (left to right): Ringo Starr, John Lennon, Paul McCartney and George Harrison

He arrived at the investiture with his wife, Barbara Bach, offering his trademark peace sign for fans and photographers.

Asked whether he wanted to be known as Sir Ringo, the musician, whose real name is Richard Starkey, replied: "I don't know yet. It's new and I don't know how you use it properly."

Turning to BBC reporter Colin Paterson, he added: "But I expect you to use it."

The 77-year-old added he knew exactly what he'd do with his medal.

"I'll be wearing it at breakfast," he joked. 

BLOGGER'S HURRAY-IT'S-ABOUT-BLOODY-TIME: This was the best news I've had in a while. I don't think people realized then - and perhaps many don't realize now - the extent to which Ringo was the glue holding the Beatles together. He had to bear being the butt of jokes about the guy who tagged along behind all those geniuses, but Ringo's beat was so much a part of their signature sound that when you listen to YouTube tracks without his drumming, they sound almost insipid. Try to imagine She Loves You without that " bompa-da-bomp!" intro, or listen to A Day in the Life again and notice how much his drumming is the "bones" of the song. He was all about loving the beat and playing within the song rather than grabbing solo bits and playing the prima donna. Now he's come full circle and is that cheerful lad from Liverpool again, the one that kept his accent and his attitude. Ringo: I loved you then, I love you now, I'll love you always.

P. P S.: I think it's a little sad that when they run a photo of the Beatles for the BBC, they have to tell us what their names are. Time was, everyone knew, it was tattooed on our brains. But in this, I have hope. . . My kids knew every lyric of every Beatles song ever written, and they grew up in the '80s. Caitlin's best friend is a Beatlemaniac, though she can't really understand it. "God, she has every Beatles album, every Beatles poster, every Beatles t shirt and book and vintage trading card. . . " Caitlin's friend is 14, so perhaps the legend is fated to continue.

P. P. P. S.: If the BBC wants to sue me for lightly borrowing this before giving it back, well then go ahead. With the number of views I get (and I haven't even checked them for months, it's so disheartening) I don't think I am any threat to them. We'll call it "fair use" and leave it at that.

The larval stage (a classic recipe)

Who turns 87 this month?

Shatner, who turns 87 this month. No, I mean it. 87. 

Blow your mind: incredible storm in South Dakota

Troll Mirror

DANIEL ROZIN INTERACTIVE ART | Works | About | Contact

Mechanical Mirrors:

The mechanical mirrors are made of various materials but share the same behavior and interaction; any person standing in front of one of these pieces is instantly reflected on its surface. The mechanical mirrors all have video cameras, motors and computers on board and produce a soothing sound as the viewer interacts with them.

Troll Mirror - 2015

968 troll dolls, 484 motors, video camera, control electronics.
Size 84 inches H, 84 inches W, 48 Inches D
Troll Mirror was commissioned by Traget and is made of pairs of pink and blue troll dolls. Every troll doll pair can rotate so that the pink or blue troll face the front. The result is a colorful reflection of the viewer's outline and playful colorful transitions.

Sidesaddle: Victorian women and horses

Lepre-cat and other seasonal phenomena

DIE OF CUTE: St. Patrick's Day Leprechaun March!

You'd have to be dead not to find this cute! Wonder where this cat is today.

Dead leaves in your pockets

  

When you're in the Little Land
You watch the wee folk play,
You see them through a game or two,
You come out old and gray.

When you're in the Little Land
They fill your hands with gold,
You think you stay for just a day,
You come out bent and old.

Dead leaves in your pockets

O my enchanted, have a care

Run, run from the little folk

Or you’ll have dead leaves in your pockets

And snowflakes in your hair

Lights shine in the Little Land
From diamonds on the wall,
But when you're back on the brown hill side
It's cold pebbles after all.

  

Music in the little land
Makes the heart rejoice.
It charms your ear so you can not hear
The sound of your true love’s voice

Dead leaves in your pockets

O my enchanted, have a care

Run, run from the little folk

Or you’ll have dead leaves in your pockets

And snowflakes in your hair

When you’re in the Little Land

You watch the wee folk play,

You see them through a game or two,

You come out old and gray.

Dead leaves in your pockets

O my enchanted, have a care

Run, run from the little folk

Or you’ll have dead leaves in your pockets

And snowflakes in your hair

  

Why did this leap into my head today, and where did it come from? Until this morning, damned if I knew. I remember my brother singing it in the '60s when he came home from university. Everyone was singing and playing the guitar and going to hootenannys, whatever they were, and most of us sucked our songs off record albums, often with wrong words and crazy chords.

It took me quite a while to find any semblance of this song, except for a very Irish version of it on YouTube. His didn't much resemble mine. It spoke of leprechauns, which gave me a clue as to what the song was about. But my version was one of those cobbled-together-from-memory things. I was only 9 or 10 years old and impressionable. I had NO IDEA what this song meant or even where it came from: I remember finding it weird and disturbing, which it still is.

So today, thanks to the good graces of YouTube, I more or less hunted it down, but it wasn't easy. This was originally written by Malvina Reynolds, an eccentric folk genius who wrote Little Boxes (on the hillside) and What Have they Done to the Rain? This was one of her more obscure numbers and sounds like it's based on folk poetry. One false lead took me to a poem called The Little Land by Robert Louis Stevenson (ph?), but it was one of those "How Would you Like to Go Up in a Swing" kind-of things, echoes of childhood, etc. Not threatening enough.

Somewhere I found a reference to the Limelighters, a folk group we listened to a lot back then. It featured Glen Yarbrough (borough? Who has time to check?), a tenor with a voice that would cut through barbed wire. I remember quite a few of their songs, but not this one. 

So it was still pretty obscure when I finally tracked down the available fragments and pieced them together with my  bits of memory: hey, folk singers do that all the time. (I left out one line: someone's version said "Deadly in your pocket," which is completely nonsensical. 'Scuse me while I kiss this guy.) But somewhere else, someone made a comment that actually made sense: Reynolds had a sense of social satire which could be quite biting (see Little Boxes). Perhaps the song was about another kind of "enchantment", not by leprechauns, faeries or other "little folk", but by the seductiveness of riches and fame.

It actually works. First you're just looking in from the outside, watching all these charming people at play, and it looks harmless enough, so you stay around for "a game or two". But then, bizarrely, you wake up and realize that decades have passed in a flash. The gold pouring through your hands eventually runs out and disappears. As in those alien encounters where people mysteriously lose time, the lurch ahead into old age is frightening: suddenly you're a has-been who never was.

The dead leaves in your pockets that I took so literally as a child could be the deadened browned scorched currency of false fame, crumbling away into nothing.  And I don't need to explain those snowflakes. Bright lights, white hair, cold stones. To enchant, literally, means to gain magical power over someone by chanting, usually in song. Soon the sound of enchantment becomes so strong that we can no longer make out the voice of the one we truly love, the only one whose love is not based on greed.

It's a kind of evil reverse fairy-tale where the victim quickly shrivels under forces he or she can't comprehend. So much for cute little leprechauns, Lucky Charms and Kiss Me, I'm Irish.

POST-MORTEM. I will confess that this is a rerun, originally posted in 2012. Six bloody years is long enough, and hey, if *I* don't remember it, no one else will! I was certain I'd be able to find ample imformation after all that time had passed - it always happens on the internet. What shocked me was that nothing had changed - in fact, it was even harder to find anything at all about this song. There was a weird pdf of Reynolds' song lyrics that looked like it was typewritten on an old Olivetti portable from 1959, but I couldn't do anything with it. All sung versions have disappeared. The Limelighters DID record it, and I was allowed to listen to 30 seconds of it, enough to realize my memory had been close to correct. Malvina included a few lines in the original which specified the "wee folk" were, in fact, leprechauns.  Nearly every culture has a myth about tiny people running around in the woods, doing demonic mischief and scaring people half to death. Leprechaun is a horrible word when you look at it. Scares the living shit out of me. No wee folk for me! Go away from my door.

POST-POST DISCOVERY. All right. I have it! I have that lyric sheet from the Olivetti. Here is the relevant lyric:

As you can see, this is pretty close to the version at the beginning of this post, without those few lines about the leprechauns.  The possible meaning of the lyric (being bedazzled by wealth and fame, while at the same time seduced and sucked dry) is made more clear by the line, "They'll dazzle you and promise you, and lead you by the hand". It couldn't be more clear, in fact. The Limelighters version leaves that verse out, so it starts in the middle, kind of. But we still get the message. 'Tis luck to catch a leprechaun. Except when it isn't.

Leprechaun sighting in Alabama!

A YouTube classic. My favorite part is the sketch made by an "eye witness".

The giant bar of soap: Bath-Size Camay

Honorable mentions: