22 May 2013

We watched an interesting film last night, Girl with a Pearl Earring (2003), a fanciful adaptation of a famous painting by Johannes Vermeer of the same name. Called "the Mona Lisa of the North," scholars don't know who this fetching dame with the wistful glance was. She could have been Griet, the servant girl of the Vermeer family (as asserted in the film), or she could have been somebody else.

The film was good and we enjoyed it... But Griet's theme by composer Alexandre Desplat didn't really fit the action, in my view. The problem is that since I grew up in the 60's and 70's I'm programmed to associate music with an ostinato and a modulated melody of this type as being associated more with a supernatural thriller, or an episode of Rod Serling's Night Gallery. This is the music Universal would play through the title sequence as a young woman drives to what would later prove to be a haunted house, for instance.

Girl With a Pearl Earring reminded me of another - more extraordinary - film about a painting, The Mill and the Cross (2011), about "The Procession to Calvary" by Breugel the Elder. It's a remarkable work: While Christ is suffering bearing His cross, Mary weeps and life goes on all around Him. In fact, you have to look hard to find Christ - He's a small figure in a vast landscape - and that's the point.

In 2010 I read a book about how some of Vermeer's paintings were faked, the biggest sucker being Nazi bigwig Hermann Goering. (Served him right.) When my daughter Julie was in town this led to a stop into D.C. to see some real Vermeers. (One, two.) Julie did not wear pearl earrings for the occasion.

I am now reading The Interesting Narrative of the Life of Olaudah Equiano (1789), about a former slave turned anti-slavery crusader. That is, I've just fast forwarded through all the academic crap at the beginning provided by some professor from the University of Maryland to actually start the tale. He asserts that because Equiano bought his way out of slavery rather than escaping, he validated the system. I wish Equiano were around to slap this guy upside the head. It's easy to suggest, within the safe confines of an academic white tower at the U of M, that a slave should risk his life to become free. Actually doing it was another matter.

The book was a yard sale giveaway. I'll almost always accept a yard sale giveaway if it's a Penguin paperback.

In his blog my friend Don describes an upcoming reenactment he is organizing, involving the guarding of a train. I think I'll take part. I bet our presence thereat keeps the train from being stolen!

I'm wearing Givenchy Pi today. It's a vanilla scent with additional notes of brown sugar and almond, but I barely get those. It's sweet, it's okay. Vanilla is one of the few gourmand scents I like. The bottle is triangular, suggesting you know what. The juice stains clothing, so I read. Bad.

It's been a while since I posted any photos of my grandson Gibson, America's Cutest Baby (tm), so here's one of him with his Auntie Meredith.

21 May 2013

I watched a couple of interesting movies recently:

The Warrior (2001) - A Hindi language film which takes place in Northern India, near the Himalyas. The plot: A warrior, tired of the bloodshed of his profession, unexpectedly receives enlightment and attempts to leave the service of the local tyrant for whom he works. Like many such characters in Westerns and films noir, he cannot. Violence ensues. Epic in cinematography, this was a pretty good flick...

I then cast about on Netflix looking for a film, I tried and rejected Kenny, a comedy/documentary about a guy who manages the installation and maintenance of porta-potties in Australia, because the title character was too difficult to understand. Then I watched about ten minutes of a Mario Bava horror film - Kill, Baby... Kill! - before concluding that it was going to be about as bad as nearly every other Mario Bava flick I've ever seen. I finally alighted upon,

Black Death (2010) - This one was about knights sent out to kill a heretic, witch or warlock who was reputedly protecting his village from the Black Death and raising the dead. It was one of those existential anti-Christian flicks that gain drama from the not exactly earth-shattering historical fact that life in 1348 was bloody and brutal and that, yeah, Christians killed one another. Is this news? It had a clunker of an ending. It was only okay; I wasn't a fan. Ingmar Bergman's The Seventh Seal was a much more profound treatise on the same themes.

Mike and I learned more about the Burbank aviator/Nazi agent Laura Ingalls, which I posted on her Burbankia page. An interesting newspaper story: her Nazi notions of racial superiority didn't do her any favors while in prison in West Virginia, where she was beaten up while attempting to forment race hatreds. Better she should have stuck with aeronautics in conversations with fellow inmates!

I got a bunch of samples from the Guerlain store in Toronto; a classy place. Talk to the manager and she'll send you stuff. I'm wearing one of the samples today, Guerlain Heritage. It's so good it's the only floral I'll wear. It starts with something that seems to smell like cacao beans (a mild chocolatey scent), but that must be an olfactory illusion on my part because no cacao is mentioned as an ingredient. It then moves on to a barbershoppy note of lavender, but that's not all... it's very complex. The last note is a nice, light musk. Great stuff! I can see why it gets rave reviews from amateur and professional reviewers. It smells completely different from the stuff I normally favor, but I like it a lot. A dressy scent.

I got my leather, vanilla and tobacco base accords the other day. My 10% dilution results with them are not good. I need to see if I can juggle dilutions and mixes to come up with something better. I suspect that if I mix some of the Iso E Super to the leather base it'll lend a woody softness to what is a rather pungent leather scent. But in what proportion? I don't know.

Having travelled with Abe Lincoln's funeral procession through the Northern states and into Springfield, Illinois, where he was laid to rest, and having followed Jefferson Davis' post-Appomattox travels south, I'm almost done with Bloody Crimes - The Chase for Jefferson Davis and the Death Pageant of Lincoln's Corpse by James Swanson. Not a bad book.

Is it Friday yet?

20 May 2013

As I mentioned, we spent Saturday in Richmond. My wife took part in the GOP Convention and I tooled around town (Richmond photos). I enjoyed the Virginia Historical Museum; how is it I missed seeing that on previous trips? Be sure to check out the Peter Francisco - Revolutionary War Virginian of Epic Proportions and Legend - photographs I have on there.

I also bought two Columbia Masterworks Lps at Plan 9. One of them, a Stravinsky Mass, I plan to digitize so I can listen to it in the car. The other one has George London - a celebrated American basso from the 1960's - singing the Boris Godunov Coronation Scene. I once heard this dramatic and distinctive music used in an ad for a pain reliever!  

I also saw a really cool computer-controlled lit ceiling at a frozen yogurt place. Video here.

Last week I mentioned that Mike and I were working on a new piece for Burbankia. Here it is: Laura Ingalls - Aviator, Nazi agent, Burbank Mata Hari. I have some more stuff on her that Mike collected over the weekend - I'll be adding that, too.

I also posted a couple of installments of Jim Voigt's memories (5/20 entries) on Burbankers Remember.

As I might have expected would happen, my taste has changed in the last few months as I've smelled more and more fragrances. When I first tried it back in February or so, I liked Chanel Egoiste Platinum. I sprayed a bit on my arm Saturday and was dismayed to discover that the sharp, citrusy smell that survives as a basenote is dihydromyrcenol, the overused clean/fresh/sporty note I have come to hate. Perfume reviewer Chandler Burr calls it a sink-cleanser-spilled-on-aluminum smell, and I think this describes it very well. Nasty stuff. It's also a primary note in Chanel Allure Homme Sport, Acqua di Gio, Ralph Lauren Polo Sport and tens of thousands of others. My new goal in life is to avoid getting any on myself.

This morning I tried a scent with the most limp-wristed name I think I have yet come across: Les Cologne Hermes Eau de Pamplemousse Rose. I had to look it up: a pamplemousse is a grapefruit, and, sure enough, when first sprayed on that's what this stuff smells like. Then it almost immediately disappears (these molecules must be very light) and you get a soft rosy scent for a few hours. Then it, too, is gone. It was created by Jean-Claude Ellena who has been called "The Master of Transparency." Whatever! It's nice - but I'd like something that lasts a while.

17 May 2013

The book I am now reading is Bloody Crimes - The Chase for Jefferson Davis and the Death Pageant for Lincoln's Corpse (a two word title and a twelve word subtitle, in the modern fashion) by James Swanson. I just started it, but so far it's promising.

Last night I watched a cult horror film, The Pit (1981). The plot: a pervy twelve year-old loner lures people into a pit, where dwell "tra-la-logs" who eat them. Nice way to get rid of enemies. I can see why it's a cult film - it's just odd enough to pass the weirdness test. ("Only an audience can make a cult film." - Sid Haig.) The kid is a convincing actor.

(Hmmmm. I see the star of The Pit, Sammy Snyders, played Tom Sawyer in some 1979 production called Huckleberry Finn and Friends. I'll have to try to see this, being the Tom Sawyer/Huck Finn film compleatist that I am.)

I love Brits. Everything turns into a rugby match: Prime Minister's questions, English Civil War reenacting, Sci-Fi conventions...

Men's frag of the day: I am now wearing Tom Ford's Sahara Noir, supposedly a perfume for women. But it's really Tom Ford's triple deception. There's nothing "sahara" about it, it isn't "noir" and it's not just for women - it's really a masculine scent. What this is, is nothing more nor less than pine board - specifically, eighth grade wood shop at Luther Burbank Junior High School in Burbank, California in 1969. The first time I smelled this - POW! - that's what I got transported back to. It's Tom Ford's little joke: the bottle even resembles a pine plank somewhat.

Don't misunderstand me: this is a wonderful, happy scent (more happy than Clinique Happy), since I like working with wood! I like this stuff. It is very linear (that is,  what you smell when you first spray it is what you get later), long-lasting and it projects. I'm now sitting at my office at work. I half expect some guy to stroll in and ask, "Did some work in the garage, did you?" Feminine scent my foot - this is as much a guy scent as modern perfumery gets!

One of our assignments in wood shop was to build a box. I started out with a design for a tool box that was wide - rectangular. Problem was, I kept making mistakes in measuring, and consequently my box became narrower and narrower. Eventually I wound up with a square, tallish box. I put my shaving stuff in it.

My other junior high school shop victory was a Heathkit five tube AM radio built in electronics shop. It had a very strange feature - to this day I cannot account for it: when you switched it off, a BOINNNGGGG sound came out of the speaker. Weird!

Yesterday fellow Burbank researcher and friend Mike came across mention of a female flyer he tracked down who was later tried and convicted as a Nazi spy! She knew Amelia Earhart, and worked and died in Burbank. I am now in the process of collecting information about her for a Burbankia page. Stand by...

Tomorrow is different. Instead of yard sales we're heading down to Richmond, where my wife will act as a Republican delegate at the statewide convention. The phone has been ringing off the hook with political calls - what a pain. It's almost like the last general election (without the dire result).

Have a great weekend!

16 May 2013

I watched what I believe must have been the worst musical ever last night, It's All Over Town, an obscure British production from 1963. It starred a singer who must have been the biggest lounge lizard on the isles before Englebert Humperdinck came along, Frankie Vaughan. The other acts were pretty awful, too. This number by the Springfields is representative. The songs were not as good as Broadway and not as good as pop/rock. They were just a pasty sort of icky, forgettable, upbeat, middle of the road dreck. But the film is a good historical document: it shows why Beatlemania was welcomed, inevitable and necessary for British culture.

The only good number in this was one by the Hollies, looking and sounding very Beatlesque. Yes, that's a young Graham Nash (later of Crosby, Stills and Nash) in the foreground, grimacing with the acoustic guitar.

So why did I watch this? It was so dreadful and so awful, you couldn't look away. Like the proverbial train wreck. Even the wry Scots narrator couldn't save it.

But it's not like Great Britain had bad pop culture all sewn up to themselves - oh, no. Even Frank Sinatra released a dud every now and then, and that is the subject of this (notorious) horrible single from 1951, "Mama Will Bark." I mentioned Dagmar (and her upper body assets) yesterday - she does the curiously disinterested female vocal part. I think you will agree with me that this is by far and away the worst Sinatra song, ever. But it was a hit! The funny thing is that the b-side is an entirely different sort of Sinatra performance, the classic "I'm a Fool to Want You." Many D.J.'s flipped the single to play it instead - you can hear why.

Dagmar! One fellow wrote, "Dagmar was an amply bosomed blonde of Amazonian proportions who made Jayne Mansfield look like Audrey Hepburn." She could sing when she wanted to, and here she is performing the oddly titled number "Ballin' the Jack."

Check this out: A World War II era time capsule in an abandoned Paris apartment. Amazing.

Elsewhere in the world, I remember the Gunny Sack Slide Ride in Burbank (5/15 entry).

Today I'm wearing Chanel Allure Homme. A bit confusing, this one. I'm not sure I like the somewhat acrid and sour base note. Where is that coming from? Leather/pepper/oakmoss/labdanum? This reminds me of some astringent I used to put on my face. It's a complex men's fragrance, I'll give it that. Well - it doesn't matter. This stuff is hugely popular and Chanel doesn't need me to wear it.

It was formulated by Jacques Polge in 1999; he created one of my favorites, Antaeus, in 1981.

Yesterday I sprayed some Bvlgari Pour Homme Soir on my arm. It's primarily tea and papyrus. (!) It's creative, but on me it barely registers. It's like my arm was brushed with a soggy tea bag.

Some fragrance reviews are just plain fascinating. Check this one out: "i've tester of this perfume. just my opinion, i think this is match for men who want achieve their goal movement. it's so light fresh like the wind blows from any sides. Compound natural energy will be in to your body for reach the champion. But don't like in the even of sport competition, it is not seduction, once more i say it's just like a catalyst for the men whom start being succeed. Welcome to your new life of course... :)"

Wow. I want to smell that!

15 May 2013

The sore throat I had yesterday is now moving into my chest, although I feel somewhat better. End of organ recital.

Last night I watched the crime film/film noir The Killer is Loose (1956). It was a superior work from the era: the plot moved along nicely, it was well-paced and suspenseful and ended at the seventy three minute mark, just when it needed to. Old school film making!

There were two notable features about it: 1.) Alan Hale Jr. (the skipper on Gilligan's Island) played a beefy uniformed cop, a part I believe he was born to play - he looked good, and 2.) Rhonda Fleming's brassiere. She was wearing one of those 1950's style "dagmar" bras which sort of announced, Look at these! A very curious fashion trend. I'd pull up a photo, but, sadly (and remarkably), there are none of her in this. But, even better, is the entire film on youtube - here. Advance to the 46:20 mark to see Rhonda Fleming's undergarments steal a scene.

I listened to a Smokey Robinson "Best of" CD on the way into work this morning. His best song in my view: Tears of a Clown, a 1970 hit, although originally released in 1967. Pagliacci as interpreted by Motown - brilliant!

I'm almost done with an interesting book about the generally unknown 1915/1916 naval battles on Lake Tanganyika between the British and Belgians and the Germans as part of World War I. The book is Mimi and Toutou's Big Adventure by Giles Foden; the incident served as inspiration for the 1951 John Huston film The African Queen. It may be the only time in British history that a naval officer went into battle wearing a skirt (not a kilt, a skirt). The battle was an odd little incident in a much larger story.

Today I'm wearing L'Instant de Guerlain pour Homme. It's a soft scent - it starts with citrus and progresses to a very subtle cacao (chocolate) note. But it's not in your face chocolate like some modern gourmand fragrances that make me feel like I'm a walking Hershey bar. Problem is, however, it barely registers on me - it's almost like I never sprayed anything on.

Yesterday I tried Dolce & Gabbana's #6 in the Anthology series, L'Amoureux, another fragrance inspired by tarot cards (The Lovers). This one had a strong juniper berry note - once I figured out what it was I was smelling it reminded me of the  COSTCO Christmas wreath we buy each year. A good December scent, I guess.

14 May 2013

Tears for Mother's Day!

I woke up with a sore throat and a mild headache today, so I'm at home on sick leave. As soon as I'm done with this blog entry I'm going back to bed!

My pard Don, who has now taken up blogging as a once weekly retirement activity, recounts an unusual conversation about a potential catastrophe overheard at a local train attraction.

I don't understand model railroading enthusiasts and never will. It puts me in mind of an anecdote: Don and I were visiting our friend Rodger, who lives in a nursing home. He had a model railroading magazine on a table, which I thumbed through. I came across an ad for, I think they were called, "waybills." "Waybills?" I looked at Rodger and Don blankly. They nodded, yes, waybills. "What are those?" I asked. "You use them to describe the day's activities," I was told. I had to ponder this for a moment. "Wait a minute. This is form paperwork you complete that describes that you are going to load little bits of plastic onto a model railroad car and move them from one part of a piece of highly decorated plywood to another?" When phrased that way, they nodded yes in a somewhat sheepish fashion.

Waybills.

Don mentions getting interested in what is called boxcar art; I have just the documentary for him: Who is Bozo Texino?, an artifact from the days several years ago when I was researching hoboes. Hobo-made and rough and ready, but it's actually quite good. (Trailer on youtube.) I blogged about it in 2009.

Don mentions the M1965 Jacket, Field. I own one; it is very utilitarian and I love it. Mine is solid olive green - just as I wore in the Marines 1974-1978, and made by Propper International, who was a contractor.

Last night I watched a pretty good Anthony Mann war film set in Korea, Men in War (1957). It starred Robert Ryan and Aldo Ray, and depicted the movements of a small company of infantrymen. I'm probably not giving anything away when I mention that it doesn't end well for said company. What surprised me about it was how expressionistic and psychological it was - it was a minimalist production - and benefited thereby. I had never heard of the film before; I'm glad I watched it. 

I finished transferring all 21 VHS volumes of my Little Rascals collection - plus seven other episodes I own - onto DVD. Now I make copies for the kids... so they can show them to their kids. It's a Clark family tradition. (And how!)

There were four distinct phases of production of these comedies:

1.) Silents (1922-1929). These are usually pretty good. The lack of sound doesn't get in the way because it's primarily visual humor.

2.) The Hal Roach era (1929-1936). The best; the Jackie Cooper episodes and when Spanky and Alfalfa were introduced. The editing and scripting was rough but the plots and acting were spot on. These were unaffected and charming. Classic.

3.) The last Hal Roach years (1936-1939). Ten minutes instead of twenty, with the familiar cast: Spanky, Alfalfa, Porky, Buckwheat, Darla, Butch. Considerably tightened up editing, scripts and production value.

4.) The MGM years (1939-1944). Dreadful. Not many good ones from these years.

Simpering Greeks. My pal Lou Grant.

Seven recent adorable Gibson photos.

Yesterday, because the Clinque Happy disappeared so fast (citrus scents usually have little longevity on me - my skin neutralizes fragrances quickly), I was able to also try Chanel Allure Pour Homme Sport. I didn't like it; it's the same old clean/fresh/sporty fragrance with the same old clean/fresh/sporty scent molecule that I find cloying. Now greatly overused, its been a cliché since the 1990's. With the help of some folks on an enthusiast's webpage, I think I now have a name for it: dihydromyrcenol. Described as a "clean as a whistle lemony-lavender," it's usually the last basenote scent remaining on my cotton tee-shirt. I'm tired of smelling it!

13 May 2013

Saturday yard sales sucked! There was some rain, so that shut things down. There was one sale, and there I bought a wooden toy for my upcoming granddaughter. My grandson has one exactly like it, so there'll be no fighting for possession between cousins.

What does it take to keep kids happy? Not much. And what's the difference between war and peace for civilians? Check out the post-war bubble gum story (today's entry) on my Burbankers Remember page.

Over the weekend I started transferring my 21 volume Cabin Fever Little Rascals videos to DVD; I'm now on volume 17. In 1995 Hollywood produced a major release film of The Little Rascals that was pretty awful. It couldn't hold a candle to the Depression era originals. But it had the happy effect of prompting the clean-up and rerelease of the original Hal Roach short comedies to home video, where I snapped them up. These are fully restored, with the original title cards and greatly improved images from first generation prints - very nice. Cabin Fever went out of business after the 1999 DVD release of these comedies, and new copies of this set go for $350 (used $190). I understand that Hallmark owns the rights... c'mon, Hallmark! Put these back in DVD circulation!

(Note: There's a "Complete, Remastered, Restored, Uncut" version from some outfit called Genius Entertainment on amazon.com, but this is a rip-off, is not restored or uncut and isn't the superior Cabin Fever product.)

So... it's therefore worthwhile to transfer my VHS tapes. I plan to get copies to the kids; they grew up on these. I used to show them to my boy scouts in cabin campouts - they loved 'em. The Little Rascals appeal to every generation. Spanky, Alfalfa, Darla, Stymie, Butch, Weezer, Waldo, Porky, Buckwheat... Once seen, never forgotten.

On a perfumery board I saw a literary challenge that appealed to me: "Describe your most horrible fragrance in the most funny way."

Entry One:

Back in the Sixties my parents used to buy budget line spray room fresheners to mask unpleasant bathroom smells; these had striped cans in an attempt to look fin de siècle French. We had one that was lilac and one that was lemon.

My childhood friend - we were both ten - was passing gas constantly one night, and, objecting to this, I took the lilac one and started spraying him with it. He retaliated with the lemon. A war ensued. As he dodged around, he passed more gas. Both cans were drained of contents.

Sweaty boys, airborne fecal notes, unbearable lilac in super heavy quantities and the lemon tree from hell making its way into the room...

And yet... and yet... Joop! Homme is worse than this.

Entry Two:

In a deteriorated part of Burbank, California (from whence I hail) circa 1972, my Mom and I needed to make a phone call. We pulled over to the Hotel For Men as we saw a public phone just outside the lobby.

Men age 50+ were lounging around: these were guys who had obviously given up on themselves. Oiled hair in DA's, wife-beater tee shirts, sofas and stuffed chairs of dubious vintage and odor, porn mags and race track tip sheets on the tables...

An additional word image, if you please.

I used to work with a grumpy old guy at Lockheed who, every morning, brought a small can of Vienna sausages and the Los Angeles Herald Examiner into the men's room. He'd sit on the throne, read the paper and eat the sausages.

This is the essence of Paul Sebastian Fine Cologne: The Paul Sebastian Man.

Hahaha!

Today I'm wearing Clinique Happy for Men! It's citrus! It makes me want to write sentences which end in exclamation marks! But, like most citrus scents, it doesn't last long! So there's a citrus downer! Now I'm depressed! I need to spray some more on myself so I don't commit suicide! Clinique Happy! Gotta have it!

10 May 2013

I added some more photos (Don Tracey's) from last Saturday's 150th anniversary Chancellorsville battle, here.

Last night I watched one of the worst Civil War movies, ever, Wicked Spring (2002), a low budget, independent film about the Battle of the Wilderness. (I felt an obligation to see it since I'm especially interested in that particular battle.)

Thsi flick started out slowly, with an overlong back story introduction to the characters set to music as the titles and credits ran. It perked up considerably with the battle sequence, which was okay. It looked more like an especially good reenactment I've been to with reenactors than what real combat action might look like, but I'll let that pass. Most Civil War films look that way to me nowadays; I'm unable to get the reenacting out of my head.

As the sun sets the characters then mope about in the darkness and six of them - a conversational set of three Yanks and three Rebs - settle around a campfire and chat. The action and plot then judder to an absolute halt, with lonnnnng pauses between lines of dialogue. It was then that I hoisted the surrender flag and went into fast forward mode.

The action picks up in the morning as Angry Reb wakes up and takes a leak. (The crazed Reb is something of a movie stereotype; I think Warren Oates in 1982's The Blue and the Gray was the archetype. He bayoneted the wounded. But 1982 being 1982, we never got to see him pee.) Some clumsily choreographed fist fights - instigated by Angry Reb, of course - take place as a morning activity. Spoiler: All six characters eventually get gunned down when the hapless six find themselves between Yank and Reb battle lines. Whoops!

So, let's sum up: no plot, not enough action, poor direction, mediocre acting, cloying music and tedious pacing. Yep - this one had it all. Good points? The uniforms were authentic and the production was shot in real Virginia woods for a change, instead of some canyon outside of Los Angeles. I didn't bother to watch the "making of" featurette.

Star Trek fragrances. The Red Shirt fragrance is for when you want to say, "Hey, I'm expendable." I have no idea what the Pon Farr one says.

I see the new Star Trek movie, Into Darkness, is about to be released. I'm not especially interested. I think I'm done with that franchise. From what I've heard, it isn't quite as good as the first (2009) one. The new normal: Usually, when a new film comes out, I go to IMDb and click on "external reviews," which take me to a list of reviews. Roger Ebert's was always at the top of the pile. But there's no Roger Ebert review for this one. He is missed. Whose do I read now?

Today I'm wearing Dior Aqua Fahrenheit. This one is decidedly odd. It goes on with a citrus blast which seems to remain on my tee shirt but not on my skin, where, instead, a smoky leather note develops. And then some misplaced floral note appears - or is that basil? The scent I get off my clothing seems to be at odds with what's going on elsewhere. (I was about to write that I've never experienced that with any other scent - but I see from my write up that I also noticed that with Fahrenheit). The whole thing results in an unpleasant mix.  I didn't care for the reformulated Fahrenheit (I might have liked the vintage original), but liked the Fahrenheit 32 flanker - so I guess 32 wins. Let's hear it for vanilla!

(By the way, I'm kinda/sorta in the market for a good vanilla/tonka bean-based scent. It's a comforting smell for me, and my wife likes it. The bang-for-the-buck leader I've tried thus far is D&G Le Fou. Le Male is good, but that bottle turns me right off.)

Gibby hates to see his father leave for work, but he has his color book to occupy him (two photos).

Yard sales tomorrow! Who knows what treasures the morning will bring? I know what the weekend won't bring: gardening. I got the weeding/mulching and the front lawn mow all finished up last night - hooray!

Have a great weekend!

9 May 2013

Did you ever read Lon Chaney’s famous quote, “There’s nothing funny about a clown in the moonlight?” Willis – that’s her name – channels the Joker. I’ve never written this about a singer before, but little Miss One Note, here, needs to be tased. (Willis, you may recall, provided the music to the Fiat Abarth Superbowl ad.)

Speaking of ads, here's another good one: Nimoy vs. Quinto. Cute.

She's a girl! She's a bomb! Burbank girl from my high school inspires Pete Townshend of the Who to write "Athena." She would have been in the Class of 1975 had she graduated. (I'm Class of 1974.) She wasn't the only one, by the way... another Burbank High girl inspired the Beach Boys to write "Be True to Your School." An inspirational bunch, those Burbank High School girls. Well - I found them so, when I went there.

Last night I watched an entertaining documentary called Teen A Go Go, about the post Beatles 1960's teen music scene in Fort Worth, Texas. Why would a bunch of red-blooded, ordinary Texas males want to grow their hair long, wear ridiculous clothes on stage, affect British dialects and play instruments? GIRLS. Those American girls weren't just screaming for the likes of the Beatles and Stones - they were also screaming for hometown heroes the Cynics, Larry and the Bluenotes and the Elite (among others). It was clearly a good gig. Interviewed in their Sixties the survivors of these bands were asked, "Would you do it all again?" A resounding yes.  

You can sample the Elite playing their 1966 hit "One Potato Two Potato" here. (A bunch of guys dressed as Mummies did a cover version of it in 1990; that's here.) And, if for some strange reason you want to hear the Elite play "My Confusion" - which is a much better song - why, that's here. Fort Worth, y'all.

I recall that Kathy, the sister of my childhood friend Jimmy who lived next door, took us one night in 1964 to a concert of some kind where local bands were playing. Jimmy and I were eight. I'm pretty sure it was on a high school football field somewhere in Los Angeles; we sat in the stands. I recognized a few of the songs as being those of the Beatles, but what struck me was all the nearly constant female screaming. These weren't even the Beatles! Why all the adulation? It was a bit creepy and weird - but fun. My first rock concert.  

Did you know that it took the Beatles about as much studio time to record the two seconds of gibberish that's in the play out groove of Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club Band as it took to record their entire first album? And what was the difference between 1963 and 1967 to account for that? Drugs.

I was going to wear Dior Homme today, but looked at the write up for it first and grew suspicious, so I sprayed some on my arm. No! Too floral, then cocoa. (I don't fancy smelling like a extra extra extra sized chocolate bar.) I wouldn't have wanted to smell that on myself all day. Dodged a bullet there. Not for me, not at all.

So today I'm trying Usher He instead. It's a celebrity fragrance - which is a negative. (I don't know who Usher is and I'm not interested enough to google his name and find out.) But I'm trying to let my nose tell me what's good and what isn't. I once smelled this on a guy who stepped into my office; it smelled pretty good on him. Reviewers report melon, suede, pineapple and pepper notes. On me it smells vaguely woody and vaguely spicy; absolutely undistinguished - like any number of other scents. In fact, it dries down to a scent molecule I have smelled way too many times before.

Hmmmm. I see the perfumer's apprentice - where I bought the Iso E Super - also sells base accords made from Givaudan formulas. Small quantities are not expensive at all. What if I bought the leather, fir, tobacco and bergamot accords and played around and mixed my own? Hmmm. The idea appeals to me since I'm much more of a participant than a spectator. Hmmm. Stay tuned.

8 May 2013

You, hear me! Give this fire to that old man. Pull the black worm off the bark and give it to the mother. And no spitting in the ashes!

My friend Bob called this to my attention; the story is, that you could have spoken this to somebody 15,000 years ago and have been more or less understood. Ultraconserved words.

Last night I watched The Machinist (2004),  a psychological thriller/neo-noir starring a very skinny Christian Bale, who lost 60 pounds for the role. He looked awful - which was the point, of course. The character hadn't had a decent night's sleep in a year, and was consequently hallucinating wildly. That makes this flick the ultimate Unreliable Narration film. But wait! There is no narration. Never mind. You know what I mean.

This film had the all time best "dark house" ride ("Route 666") sequence of any film I've ever seen. I want to ride that ride!

The other day I found myself engaged in an interesting line of research: "What colognes/after shaves/fragrances did young American guys in the Fifties to 1962 (when American Graffiti was set) wear?" Being a historical reenactor and interested in questions of authenticity, I found this interesting. This assumes that your average high school kid wore any scent at all, of course. The aspirational class might have worn Canoe (1932), Chanel Pour Monsieur (1955), Pino Silvestre (1955), Tabac (1955) or  Vetiver Carven (1957). But I suspected many American men back then wore Old Spice (1938) and some bay rhum as they emerged from the barbershop. And the smell of cigarettes, of course.

Looking in a Sears Catalog from 1958 I see Old Spice, Old Spice and Old Spice. That's it! That's why they put on the back of current boxes, "If your grandfather hadn't worn this you wouldn't be here today." Checking the Sears catalog from 1962 (the upper limit) I see, yep, Old Spice, "King's Men" (a Sears exclusive, I'm guessing) and "Sportsman" (described as a "man-type" scent). What have we learned? Americans in the fifties and early Sixties didn't have much of a fragrance culture. It may have been considered European and was, therefore, suspicious.

(A note: When my daughter was in high school she was in a production of Grease. All the teens dressed up accordingly - and they had the cast party in the basement of the house. What did I smell? Brylcreem and/or Vitalis, leather (jackets) and teenage sweat. Add to that cigarettes. And that's probably what high school smelled like in the Fifties.)

Today I am wearing something considerably better and more civilized, Guerlain's Eau de Cologne du 68; I'm not sure why the "68" is in there. (A number sometimes describes an address, like Hermes' 24 Faubourg, or Jo Malone's 154.) Are there 68 notes in this? I can't smell 68 different notes. What I do smell is a very nice, balanced mix of flowers, citrus, powder and green things. It's claimed to be unisex, and so it is. When a scent this good veers this close to being feminine it stays acceptably masculine but magically becomes elegant. It is very dressy and nice - like emerging from an unusually good barbershop.

I am now working on a neat little story for Burbankia regarding the origin of the Who song "Athena." I should have it done by tomorrow.

I'm at the Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band chapter of that book about Beatles songs I'm reading. I learned that there were only two songs where John Lennon and Paul McCartney dispute authorship: "In My Life" and "Eleanor Rigby."

7 May 2013

Last night we went to hear a piano concert by the son of some family friends; it was pretty amazing. The centerpiece was a four hands (on two pianos) performance of Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue. The son played the piano part - another fellow played the orchestral part. What a wonderful talent! Hearing it performed on pianos without the orchestral window dressing reminds me of what a percussive piece it is; lots of syncopated bangs.

A better account of the Saturday Chancellorsville battle is here, on Publick Spectacle, the blog of my pard Don. A relevant passage: "To sum up the battle: I did the same thing on the same ground last year. Then it was the Battle of Spotsylvania Courthouse. Next year, being the 150th anniversary of that battle, there will likely be another reenactment with a battle indistinguishable from its two predecessors, and it will probably be the Battle of Spotsylvania Courthouse again." Yes... which is why it seems very optional for me! These things are all blending one into another, indistinguishable.


I am now reading yet another book about the Beatles; this one is unique because it analyzes each song as to authorship (based on published comments by Lennon and McCartney) and assigns a number. For instance, "All My Loving" is all Paul, so it's 1.0. "Thank You Girl" was written equally by both, so it's Paul .5, John .5. "It Won't Be Long": John 1.0. "Penny Lane": Paul .8, John .2 - that sort of thing. So. Who wrote the majority of the Beatles music as recorded on their albums?  The total is:

John 84.55
Paul 73.65
George 22.15
Ringo 2.7
Annnddddd... Yoko Ono: .45!

John wrote the lion's share of the earlier Beatles music, but as Yoko entered his life Paul started writing more. This is partly the reason why you occasionally see bumper stickers which read, "Still Pissed at Yoko."

I mentioned that I got some Iso E Super (that's it above) in the mail the other day; it's what's called a "captive molecule," that is, only International Flavors and Fragrances (IFF), the discoverer, can market it. It's reputedly so good that it alone can form the basis for a unisex scent, Molecule 01. So - with the Iso E Super and some Everclear 190 I got from a guy at work, I made myself a 15% dilution (Molecule 01 is a 10% dilution).

I can smell the molecule undiluted in the bottle despite the fact that the molecules are large and are reputedly not detectable undiluted, and I could also smell it going on me and on my skin. To my nose it smells like warm skin in flannel or, alternatively, like a very faint cedar smell. It has a warm, soft "snuggly" smell. I don't get the musk, pepper or amber notes others report at all. It's probably the warm skin impression that gives this scent its reputed "sexiness."

It's nice - a good smell. Not, "I HAVE to have it," just nice.

Reputedly, you can use this to layer and give your favorite scent a velvety quality. So I tried it with Chanel Pour Monsieur, and, yes, it kind of "smudged" the scent. I got the impression that the layered mix was now Pour Monsieur upon skin - not just Pour Monsieur. The Iso E Super also outlasted the Pour Monsieur on my wrist. This stuff has epic longevity.

I had a pregnant friend of mine sniff this - she liked it. Her husband paused, considered, and said, "bug spray." To my wife it smells like something in a cleaning agent and somewhat soapy. An odd molecule, this!

And now, in addition to my tattoo designer merit badge I can also get my perfumer one. :)

Today I'm wearing Cartier Pasha. Reviewers claim that the main notes are mint, caraway seed, sandalwood and oakmoss, and that it's an aromatic/woody scent. What keeps me from wanting to buy it is that caraway/spice note mixed with the mint; a sort of messy mint. It reminds me of an unpleasant kitchen drawer that I was exposed to at some point in my young life. It also fails my M Test. With stuff I like, I smell the top of my tee shirt and go Mmmmmm. Not with this. Finally, the bottle makes me think of a baby bottle - that doesn't help sell it.

The Further Adventures of America's Cutest Grandson (tm): A push pop with pop (three photos).

6 May 2013

Yard sales were great on Saturday! I did about 25-30 of them. I netted some books and a doughnut.

I did the Saturday battle at the 150th Battle of Chancellorsville event with my pards Don and Chris. Photos here. It wasn't all that big a deal - we were there for only a few hours. I give it a 4.5 out of 10 on the Event-O-Meter.

Sunday started interestingly: At 1 AM some idiot prank rang our doorbell repeatedly, scaring my poor wife half to death. Nobody there, of course. Later, at the church session of the ward who meets just before us, some visiting older gent got up to the podium to bear his testimony and had a heart attack and died!

One of my favorite Superbowl ads ever - for the Fiat Abarth. And I just realized I like the music used it in: "Smokescreen," by Willis. The supermodel is Catrinel Menghia, who is Romanian - but she's speaking Italian. What is she saying? "What are you looking at? Huh? What are you looking at? (Slap)  Are you undressing me with your eyes? Poor guy…you can’t help it. Is your heart beating? Is your head spinning? Do you feel lost thinking that I could be yours forever?" It's right up there with my other favorite ad with supermodels.
We have a major home improvement project coming down the pike: a kitchen remodeling. My wife is going nuts working out all the details of what she wants. There are almost too many options...

Today I am wearing Mitsouko, a perfume for women by Guerlain! Why on earth am I doing this? Because I know something about this particular stuff. I insisted that my wife try it on her arm a few weeks back; it isn't perfumey or feminine in the least. It has a lot of oakmoss in it, and is therefore quite dry and austere. (The exact classification is that it's a chypre.) Luca Turin cites it as a good feminine scent for men. On my skin, however, it almost entirely vanishes. You can smell it going on but that's about it until about an hour later when what's left begins to smell faintly of peach - that's the undecalactone. I'm guessing that Mitsouko smells far better on women than it does on me. Experiment completed.

But fear not! On Friday I tried the recent James Bond scent. And just how two-fistedly rugged and masculine was this? It goes on smelling like apples - and, worse, not just apples, but apple pie. It's not James Bond of the British Secret Service. It's Aunt Bee of Mayberry. (Who graces today's blog. You were expecting Catrinel Menghia perhaps?)

It's a topsy-turvy world, friends.

My grandson: Gibby has a stick fight with his father.  Some new photos. A stylish boy.

3 May 2013

An amazing World War II story of encrypted letters home from a POW: BBC video here.

One of the discoveries in the Julie London CD my son got me for my birthday is the Bobby Troup song "Man of the West." It was associated with a 1958 Western of the same name starring Gary Cooper, but, for some bizarre reason, the song was never used in the film. Listen to it: it's a Blues-Western hybrid! That is, the chords and melody are pure blues, but the lyrics and the horsey "click-clock" in the background are Western. A bit overdone with the reverb, but an attractive and very unusual piece...

Julie London also starred in Man of the West; I've seen it (I try to see all Julie London films) and she was excellent. A production still is above. This is a seriously underappreciated Western.


I came to a realization yesterday while taking a walk and listening to this CD on my mp3 player: in terms of technical ability, Judy Garland and Ella Fitzgerald were far more accomplished singers than Julie London. Both could belt, and Ella could scat. And nobody sold song lyrics like Judy Garland. But no female vocalist, to my knowledge, had what Julie London had: that intimate, sexy voice (she called it "over-smoked") that presented mournful, reproachful love songs - torch songs - so perfectly. Granted, this is partly technical: not being a belter, she had to be more closely miked. But it suited her style perfectly, especially her earliest recordings with only her voice and a softly played electric jazz guitar and a acoustic bass as accompaniment. It's been many decades since her peak recording years, and I've yet to hear a female vocalist who's as good in this regard.

Also, Julie London and her sexy but elegant image perfectly captured her era, the mid to late Fifties. Listening to her music I hear a picture of a different America, one run by real adults. Not the stunted adolescent, youth obsessed, rock and roll, comic book reading adults of today, but the life-experienced men and women who survived World War II and who grew up in tougher times. Julie London provided some of the best music of the Greatest Generation; in my opinion she stands as nothing less than the female counterpart to Frank Sinatra.

Commenters in documentaries I've seen note that the remarkable thing about Julie London was not only was she a beautiful woman who could act, but she was a beautiful woman who could sing well - a decided rarity.

I conclude my discussion of Julie London with my favorite Julie video, "Bye Bye Blackbird." I've linked to it here before... but... just watch it!

Tom Ford Week concludes with Grey Vetiver, one of his better scents. (Vetiver is described here in detail, but, in short, it's a rooty, green and somewhat pungent smell frequently used in perfumery.) I like this one; it's quite nice. It sprays on citrusy and dries down to scent a lot like Guerlain's Vetiver from 1959, which is regarded as a reference. (It can occasionally be found for about $70 a bottle; the Tom Ford product is $90-$130.) I may put them to a side by side sniff test on paper strips; my olfactory memory is that they are very similar. What makes this one "grey?" Marketing.

When I got started smelling men's fragrances I wasn't much of a vetiver fan, but I have come to like it. I haven't yet, however, adopted the practice of abbreviating the word "fragrance" into "frag" as many amateur reviewers do. That may take a while longer.

In general, the Tom Ford fragrances seem to be occasionally well-crafted, but overpriced in comparison with the offerings from the established French houses (I am thinking specifically of Guerlain). I recognize that there are folks out there who go nuts over everything he produces - but I am not one of these.

The second bloodiest day of the American Civil War, the Battle of Chancellorsville, happened 150 years ago to the day today. As I mentioned yesterday, I'll be attending the reenactment of the 2 May 1863 action, Stonewall Jackson's Corps routing the Union Army XI Corps from their camps - a big skedaddle. I suppose photos will be forthcoming on Monday since I seem to be constitutionally incapable of attending these things without taking photographs...

Sunday: Mulching the last bed around the house - thank goodness. I hate gardening.

Have a great weekend!

2 May 2013

IBM created the world's smallest movie by moving individual atoms around on a surface and producing a stop motion animation film. Amazing! My question: Why wouldn't this remarkable feat in a short subject receive an Oscar? (The "making of" video is here.) Have you ever heard of a film starring individual atoms?


A fellow Burbank High School student made a video about USMC Cpl. Larry Maxam - Burbank's only Medal of Honor recipient - set to music by somebody else. I linked to it on my Cpl. Larry Maxam page; the Battle of Cam Lo.

Last night I re-watched a fun 1961 episode of the TV show Thriller, hosted by Boris Karloff. This one, written by Robert Bloch, starred William Shatner and a painting of the Grim Reaper. Lots of fun! That's Shatner above, chewing up the scenery... The Jerry Goldsmith music for that episode was excellent! Give it a listen - it's only 1:20.

While on the subject of movie music, I also listened to Bernard Herrmann's wonderful music for the 1967 Truffault film Fahrenhite 451 on the drive into work this morning. Herrmann is like Dominic Frontiere (Outer Limits) in that he had such a unique sound: You can identify a score by either one almost instantly. Unusual in Hollywood for composers, Herrmann orchestrated his own music and did not rely upon arrangers.

I also watched some more Space Ghost Coast to Coast. It's turned into something of an ordeal. At first I liked the non sequiturs, the jumpy and bizarre editing and the childish humor, but now it's just getting on my nerves. I have a couple of fifteen minute episodes left then I mail it off to my son, who, I think, liked the show more than I did. He can relive his Nineties childhood.

Tom Ford Week continues. Today I'm wearing Arabian Wood, which is a total misnomer. I was expecting a mainly woody scent, but it's mostly floral to my nose. It's claimed to be unisex but it's way too feminine to me. This happens to me every now and then: I get stuck smelling like a lady or a fruit all day. GAK. (I have a sample of a Tom Ford scent called "Black Orchid," supposedly unisex - I'm testing that one on my wrist before I try wearing it all day!)

I'm now working out the logistics for Saturday. It appears I'll be doing some yard sales in the morning in Springfield, attending the skedaddle of the Union Army at Chancellorsville in the afternoon in Spotsylvania County and dining out with other families in the evening in Woodbridge. A busy day!

1 May 2013

In response to a Facebook posting I came up with a politico-environmental song yesterday, sung to the tune of the "Colonel Bogey March" (aka "the Theme from The Bridge on the River Kwai"):

Fracking!
It's what we ought to do!
Fracking!
Make jobs for me and you!
Fracking!
It's got my backing!
So let's get cracking!
On fracking!
Today!

I was going to conclude it with "frack you," but decided that this Officer Krupkesque insertion would be too juvenile in tone for a song intended to persuade, so I didn't include that.

As I was driving into work yesterday morning I was listening to Joe Jackson's "Stepping Out." Are you familiar with the song? It has a piano that is prominent in the mix doubled with a glockenspiel. It sounds wonderful: bright and clear. I like glockenspiels in pop music wherever I hear it, but the combination of this and a piano makes me think that the producer really knew what he was doing.


It reminded me a bit of David Bowie's Seventies trick of doubling Mick Ronson's distorted guitar (playing power chords) with saxophones - it sounds great and reinforces the guitar sound - gives it a buzzy vibe.

But I know what you're asking: What has this to do with perfumery?

I looked up the perfumery definition of accords earlier, and found it described in terms of a chord: notes with pitch intervals forming a triad. But I think, rather, it's more like dissimilar things that have a happy affinity when used together. For instance, how is a bergamot (bright) like oakmoss (dry) when used in a chypre? They aren't. But they smell nice together. It seems to me more like a piano and a glockenspiel or a distorted guitar and a sax: an accord.

Anyway, that occurred to me. I see links between smells and sounds; they're both senses. But it's hardly important - not as relevant as fracking, surely.

I watched the world's worst and most bizarre episiode of Space Ghost Coast to Coast last night. This one was "Story Time," and featured the previous episode written and drawn up and told storybook fashion by a weird old Canadian storyteller who never blinks. The episode description is apt: "Kirk the Storyteller and Carl the Cartoonist stop time with their riveting interpretation of two previous episodes of 'Space Ghost Coast to Coast.' 'Banjo' and 'Batmantis' unfold with a solemn reverence appropriate to their importance in the Space Ghost pantheon of electronic entertainment."

One guest on a Space Ghost episode was Cindy Guyer. Who's she? The model for Nancy Drew book and magazine covers, reportedly appearing on over 2,000 of them. I dunno... she looks a bit too vampy for the character. I prefer perky Bonita Granville's late 1930's characterization.

It's Hump Day of Tom Ford Week with Tobacco Vanille, and in the style of his what-it's-named-is-what-you-get collection, this is indeed a vanilla and tobacco blend. It's nice; I like it. I prefer the cherry tobacco accord of the Bogart Pour Homme I have, but this is certainly wearable. (The French have a nice word for it: presentable. It's presentable.) But as crassly middle class as I am, I must point out that the Bogart was $17 a bottle, the Tom Ford $200+. If you want to smell like a pipe or a tobacco pouch and you aren't concerned with what flavor you're representing, go with the Bogart and buy a second scent with the money you save.

It does raise a moral dilemma: I'm a Mormon. We don't smoke. Can a Mormon smell like tobacco? I say, sure! Why not? Has it ever occurred to anyone that the reason the Lord gave us the tobacco plant was because it smelled nice when the absolute is diluted in perfumer's alcohol? Don't smoke it - wear it! It's better for you that way.

Speaking of church, I am happy to report that America's Most Adorable Grandson (tm) sits quietly on his father's lap and pays attention to the talks when he's at church. (Well - he did for the fraction of a second it took to take this photo, anyway.) At the park it's Toe Time y'all: nom, nom, nom.

30 April 2013

The other night I watched a couple of episodes from the now forgotten Boris Karloff hosted (and acted) television series The Veil, from 1958. I'd like to be able to say that it's as good as the Twilight Zone or One Step Beyond... but nahhh. The stories were lame. Hal Roach Studios did a whole lot better giving the world the Little Rascals.

So I watched instead some of the Space Ghost Coast to Coast episodes I got on a two DVD set on Saturday morning. Those were pretty funny - but, these being best suited to thirteen year old male humor, are best watched one or two at a time. Too many of these back to back is wearing.

Remember that show? Space Ghost - a character from a rather bad 1966 Saturday morning cartoon action-adventure show - got repurposed in the far more cynical 1990's as a rather bad talk show host. My son used to watch this, and sometime back in the Nineties I found a Space Ghost song CD at a yard sale. The stand out from that was "Don't Touch Me" by Brak. I used to hear that sung by my son quite often. Brings back memories on a double level: My son when he was a kid in the Nineties and a funny little guy I used to work with at Lockheed in the Seventies named Jim Brickey who Brak sounds exactly like. Weird.

Finally, I shall mention that there is an odd traffic light in Fairfax, VA that reminds me of Zorak, the evil mantis and Space Ghost's musical director.

I have been listening to the Julie London rarities CD my son got me for my birthday. It has a terrific song on it, "Dark." Now that I'm thoroughly bored and tired of rock (with the exception of Monkey vs. Robot), I'm happy she recorded this stuff in 1958, when I was two, for me to listen to now.

Comparative heights of rugby players. And, don't forget, British Athletes did their part.

Tom Ford week continues with Neroli Portofino, essentially a citrus smell. And a nasty, soapy one at that. My wife nailed the scent with a side by side smell test: it smells just like Spray and Wash. And how does one market a $200+ bottle of Spray and Wash? With a nude man and woman cavorting around dumping enormous bottles of the stuff on one another. Advertising doesn't get much more cynical than that.

Gibby Sunday at church.

29 April 2013

I had a nice birthday on Saturday; it started with yard sales. I bought a Joe Jackson's Greatest Hits CD; "Stepping Out" is a favorite - more pop songs should use glockenspiels. I also found an IKEA compartmented storage box for my Dremel tool for fifty cents. Then I donated blood in a bloodmobile. However, it was not a good experience. Normally I enjoy the process and feel like I am contributing to society somehow, but this time was different. I really, really didn't want to be there. I have no idea why this was the case. But I donated a pint anyway and went home.

Cari and I went to Nordstrom where she bought me a bottle of Chanel Pour Monsieur for my birthday - hooray! This stuff smells wonderful. It's my Sunday go-to-meetin' scent. When I wear a suit I also wear this. While at Nordstrom my wife opened a charge card and got some points and extras, and I got more samples. Then we ate dinner at Coastal Flats (I got their killer salmon steak grilled on mesquite), and we went to the church talent show where the entire ward sang "Happy Birthday" to me. A great day!

Last night I watched a documentary about Don Rickles, Mr. Warmth: The Don Rickles Project (2007). Carson, McMahon, Sinatra, Martin, Wayne, Hope... they're all gone. How odd that he should be one of the last survivors from the Golden Age of Entertainment and that his voice remains. This doc makes clear that he knew everybody in "the business"; it's entertaining. What distinguishes him from everyone else is that he's politically incorrect - and has been for more than a half century. There is an element of distaste in watching him do his shtick that is unique among comedians. He's like watching a cornered rat striking out. A horrible, funny, man.

It's Tom Ford Week! I have no less than seven samples of his products which I shall be subjecting to my hide. Tom Ford was the creative director of Gucci and Yves Saint Laurent before spinning himself off as his own perfume house. (Somehow he also became a movie director.) I find his stuff occasionally good but always overpriced. Today I'm wearing Azure Lime. Yes sir, it goes on as lime, all right, no mistaking that. The top notes remind me strongly of the Hai Karate Lime we once bought my Dad for Christmas - was it in 1967? It dries down into something my wife calls "soapy," and indeed it is. I am not impressed - especially at over $200 a bottle retail.  And how precisely is it "azure?"

 Over the weekend I also tried Dolce & Gabbana Pour Homme. It's like water... no longevity at all. "Safe for work?" Yes. I can see corporations issuing this to staff, in fact.

I stumbled across mention of another oddball scent: Kinski for Men. What makes it odd? 1.) It's in celebration of that supremely oddball actor Klaus Kinski, and 2.) The predominant note in it is marijuana. "...a base of animalic and woody notes that reflect his own almost feral sensuality." Feral, indeed. There never was a more feral actor. Spray this on yourself and perhaps you'll be inspired to get high or run around screaming at people in German.

And they called Don Rickles "Mr. Warmth."

Here's my grandson Gibby, walking and coloring. Now he's a greatly more mobile threat. Misses grandfather, The Truck Driver and the Baby.

26 April 2013

Last night I finished reading The Red Badge of Courage, which I had originally read in 1973 or 1984 - I forget which. I know this is heresy, but I think I like the 1951 Audie Murphy/Bill Mauldin film adaptation better than the book! It's far more direct and persuasive regarding the subject matter (a young man finding his courage). And I'm not a fan of the complete and restored version I read... You know how they include "deleted scenes" in films on the DVD releases? I have generally found that they were deleted for a good reason: they don't advance the plot, are talky or trivial or are simply unnecessary. In other words, it was a good artistic call to delete them. I think that's the case with the extra chapter and verbiage in this version of Red Badge that I finished. It tends to meander. I prefer the standard, abbreviated version. Whomever edited the work knew what he was doing.

Writing about Lon Chaney yesterday caused me to recall one of Burbank's most infamous murders, the April 1968 Cheryl Perveler murder. (As I mentioned, it occurred while I was in another part of town watching a movie about Lon Chaney.) Noting that I did not have a page about the matter on Burbankia - a notable omission - I fixed that. Here it is. I have the Vincent Bugliosi book about it on hold; when I get it I'll add to the page. The convicted murderer, Paul Perveler, is still alive and in a California prison. And, oddly, a Burbank blogger has discovered that the murderer and famous director Stanley Kubrick are first cousins.

My grandson Gibby walked yesterday! He took wobbly steps with his arms out like Frankenstein (which was my party trick when I was eight). I have some video but forgot to upload it to share, an unforgivable lapse. But here's a photo.

Yatagan! It's a curved Turkish sword and also a men's fragrance by Caron. It's also a birthday present from my daughter Julie. I wore it today for the first time; having no meetings I figured it was "safe" to do so. When I first received it in the mail I sprayed some on a business card and noted that it was strong and persistent. I've learned that sometimes you have to figure out how to wear a specific scent: how many squirts do you use, whether or not you spray it on your tee shirt for added longevity, etc.

Yatagan is a very complex scent; when I first smelled it on a paper strip my first thought was, "Oh, this is good stuff" as the notes hit my nose sequentially: bitter herbs, leather, animalic notes, woods, etc. Speaking in terms of music, it is not a solo instrument sonata, it is a symphonic movement. What's more, it's in an unusual key. Yatagan is very controversial - people love it or hate it. Note all the lengthy reviews. Some use the word "infamous."

I am convinced that Luca Turin is right when he calls it a five star masterpiece. A paper strip representation of it is incomplete - it has to be worn on the skin. On me it's wonderful. That is, the scent I'm getting from it on myself. The ultimate judge is my wife. Yatagan's "head space," that is, the scent of it in the air, is warm and well modulated, woodsy and a bit herbal. When I smell the inside of my tee shirt top, however, I get smoky, deep notes and a tone (once again using musical metaphors) that I recognize from Chanel Antaeus, which I've loved for years. This, I suspect, is the castoreum.

You have to be confident to wear this stuff; I suppose it helps that I have a rather big personality. It is very masculine - I cannot imagine a woman wearing this and successfully pulling it off. It would also be unseemly on young men, I think. I love it! Thanks, Julie!

Good yard sale weather tomorrow, which happens to be my 57th birthday. We're dining out somewhere, and in the evening doing a church talent show. I am displaying a bunch of weathervane reproductions I made out of pine planks years ago and my wife is displaying sewn and knitted items. I woudn't be surprised if some hammock time materializes, too.

Have a great weekend!

25 April 2013

This morning, seeing that I-395 north into work was jammed, I tried out my alternate travel plan of taking side streets into Shirlington (VA) - it worked just fine. It took about five or ten minutes longer than usual, but I avoided sitting in the bumper-to-bumper traffic. Nice.

Ever since I was a kid I've been aware of the 1927 Lon Chaney/Tod Browning film London After Midnight, from whence the ghoulish image at left is taken. Chaney's makeup was so extraordinary - look at those teeth! - that stills from the production were used in the baby boomer monster magazines of my youth. I believe an entire generation of kids hankered after seeing that film. The last known print, alas, was lost in a 1967 fire at MGM - but last night I watched a reconstruction of it using stills, title cards and newly written music.

It was suggested that if modern audiences could see this film they'd be underwhelmed with the plot, and, yes, the plot is pretty lame. It's a rather badly dated detective story. Lon Chaney's vampire creature - and the vampire girl (listed as "Bat Girl" in the credits) who accompanies him - is pretty much tangential to the plot. Obviously, he's just there for shock value and to inspire generations of horror film fans and makeup and tattoo artists.

Luna the Bat Girl was a silent screen actress named Edna Tichenor, and she - that is, her head - appears in a fairly amazing still as a spider in a web.

It's worth noting that the film London After Midnight has a place in British legal history as well. From wikipedia: "The film was used as a part of the defense for a man accused of murdering a woman in Hyde Park, London in 1928. He claimed Chaney's performance drove him temporarily insane, but his plea was rejected and he was convicted of the crime." Nice try!

I also watched a fairly ridiculous 1927 Lon Chaney film co-starring a very young Joan Crawford, The Unknown. In it, he has his arms amputated for love (!) - only to have that love unrequited. Ouch. This gives Chaney a splendid opportunity to act out disappointment, heartbreak, torment and finally near dementia with facial expressions, something he excelled at.

Other than in monster magazines, my exposure to Lon Chaney came with a April 1968 television broadcast of the 1957 James Cagney film Man of a Thousand Faces; Cagney played Chaney. A good film.

(How do I remember that it was April 1968 when I saw it? Because, that very night, elsewhere in town, one of the most notorious murders in Burbank history was taking place: the Cheryl Perveler murder on Grismer St. And, amazingly, I see that I have not covered it at all in Burbankia - a notable lapse! I'll have to remedy that. )

The Lon Chaney film I really want to see, however, is Tell It To The Marines (1926), where Chaney - sans makeup tricks - plays a tough Marine sergeant. The film was loved by the Marine Corps. In fact, the Marines made Chaney an Honorary Marine, the first film star so honored. Other Honorary Marines include Jim Nabors, Chuck Norris, Bob Hope and... honest... Bugs Bunny!

Today I'm wearing Thierry Mugler Cologne Summer Flash; it's quite nice. Citrusy and light. A good summer scent. While the word "cologne" has come to be a general term for anything men wear, it actually describes a specific type of fragrance, a primarily citrus concoction epitomized by Maurer and Wirtz' famous 4711 Eau de Cologne. (Which the Who's Pete Townshend used to snort between songs during concerts.)

A friend asked me earlier this week, has cologne anything to do with the German city of Cologne? Yes. The original Eau de Cologne is a citrus perfume launched in that city in 1709 by Giovanni Farina (1685–1766), a perfume maker from Italy. He named his fragrance in honor of his new hometown.

My son bought me a Julie London CD for my upcoming birthday; I shall be listening to it while I take my walks. Ahhh... Julie London. A closely-miked voice like honey.