Can I get a head count of all the bloggers out there reading this? Ten? Thirty-two? Forty-eight? … All of you? Well then, I suppose all of you will understand where this particular post is coming from. I’m always trying to dig up interesting things for the column, and now that I have a monthly Internet radio program here, I’m looking to supplement the materials cache. But as with any excuse a pack rat clings to, this incessant collecting catches hold of some rather bizarre detritus. So I’ve been looking into the files to give the hard drive a Web wiping, kick out the lascivious photos of Neko Case (rrrowr), and with any luck get the ol’ Compaq back into springtime fighting trim.
(Uh, what was I saying? Something about Red Vines? Focus! Focus!)
Like I said, I was digging around in the hard drive when what to my wandering ears should appear but this, a track entitled “When Banana Skins Are Falling (I’ll Come Sliding Back to You),” and gee, those voices are awfully familiar — and familiarly awful. Turns out I ended up with a track from the long-out-of-print The Odd Couple Sings album, recorded in the very early ’70s, when Unger-Madison Fever was sweeping the country. Now, it shouldn’t shock anyone that a cash-in was commissioned to capitalize on this sitcom’s huge success — such behavior is the cornerstone of our modern media, for cryin’ out loud. But The Odd Couple Sings? I mean, who was going to buy this thing? Who out there was jonesing for the dulcet tones of Jack Klugman? I was now intrigued and scared to death of what else I might find.
Remember just a few short weeks ago when America’s favorite pubescent Mensa pledge, Miley Cyrus, was caught doing yet another stupid thing in front of a camera, specifically her impression of Mickey Rooney in Breakfast at Tiffany’s? Poor little Miley. A victim of the politically correct times. Had she been born a couple decades previous, she would’ve already posed for Playboy, would’ve already been married and divorced, would’ve already found a second career as an infomercial pitchwoman, would be on her way to rehab for the tenth time could’ve been as insulting as she wanted to Asians and nobody would’ve flinched. Hell, she could’ve lent her talents to a TV cartoon complete with gong chimes, exhortations of “ah, soooo,” bloken Engrish, and more Confucius than your tiny mind could wrap itself around. You could get Ron Dante, the cartoon rock star once known as Archie (of the Archies), to provide pop tunes with mystery-related titles like “Whodunit” and vaguely stereotypical themes like “I’m the Number One Son” and nobody would bat an eyelash, flip a fan or fold a crisp, starched shirt for you. Oh Hannah, you dunce. You sure missed out.
At times, the world runs on our differences more than our similarities. Everyone has their favorite directors, and of course there are those who dispute their choices. For every lover of Spielberg, Lucas, Aronofsky or Coppola, there’s someone who can’t stand anything from their bodies of work. The arguments which ensue are part of what keeps life interesting.
The tagline for Matthew McConaughey’s latest film is “Love and waves, that’s what we need in these dark days.” Finally, a movie star who isn’t afraid to tackle the worst financial crisis since the Great Depression! Well, not exactly — Surfer, Dude quietly made its way into theaters in early September, after Hollywood’s tidal wave of summer blockbusters had receded but before the events of September 14 wiped out all hope that the current economic recession would ebb anytime soon. (By the by, how come it’s called a recession if it hits average Americans like a hurricane?) After three weeks in a grand total of 69 theaters, Surfer, Dude’s total box-office gross was $52,132, which probably didn’t leave McConaughey or his filmmaker bros feeling too stoked.