Book Review:

 Parker Gasket Company Product Catalogue

2001 Edition

This is a rare gem for any collector of fine heavy industry product manuals. Even the cover takes your breath away. Now, don’t get me wrong. Parker has always rivaled competitors (some say imitators) such as TIME and National Geographic in the quality of their cover art ever since the immortal Rod Calloway (Director of Marketing, Parker Gasket 1989-2002) made the precedent-setting decision to switch to a colour template in ’93. While his contemporaries scoffed, saying that this was a needless waste of money for a catalogue that “no one actually looks at.” in the words of one misguided soul, Mr. Calloway boldly pressed forward and revolutionized the industry with his stunning displays. Will this decision increase revenues at Parker? Only time will tell. But corporate artists the like of Rod are truly above mere considerations of profit and loss, and his fans are ever grateful for this move.

 But I digress. To put it simply, this diamond in the rough is what would result if Jackson Pollack were to ally himself with the ghost of Van Gogh to produce cover art for a gasket company. A glorious sprinkling of washers adorns the cover in all colours of the rainbow. All the way from the subtle tan of the tiny JU-547 (clearly recognized by the slight serration of the inner edge caused by the use of inferior Sri Lankan rubber), up to the striking jet black of the mammoth KR-863, shown in all it’s 6.43 inches of glory. The washers are sprinkled across the page in a manner that, while it may look random to the uninitiated, shows a clear underlying pattern and purpose to those with a practiced and discerning eye.

 This is certainly one book that may be safely judged by its cover! The interior manages lives up to the lofty promises of the frontispiece. In a clear and concise manner, the entire range of Parker’s repertoire is opened for public display. One cannot help but be drawn to far off climes dreaming of the lives that these foot soldiers in the war on leakage will lead. Will that SP-420 end up in a hard working diesel locomotive plunging across the icy wastes of Siberia? Or will it end up in the water feed of a shaved ice machine making margaritas in sunny Rio? How many lives will that OI-702 save when it is installed in a dialysis machine? Will that PA-825 work in the fuel pump of the rocket that gets us back to the moon? So many stories! So little space!

 As with any great work of art, these catalogues are not easy to locate. Whether it is due to collectors hording their stocks as they wait for the value to rise or because the majority of recipients simply ‘round file’ (to use the vulgar terminology of the industry) their copies; no one is certain. But this author certainly has his suspicions! This copy was located in the office of Mr. Frank Guthrie of RHIP Industries where your reporter is employed during the day.

 I confess to a feeling of some guilt the manner in which I appropriated the catalogue. Having stopped in Mr. Guthrie’s office to question him about the latest round of RFA reports, I happened to notice this work of art sitting, sadly neglected, on a back shelf next to the 1999 Atlas Machining Co. Schedule of Charges. (Also a worthwhile read should you ever happen across a copy.) As I expressed my admiration for his taste in product literature, Mr. Guthrie received a phone call from his daughter; apparently about an expulsion of some sort. As I continued to attempt conversation, Mr. Guthrie appeared to become increasingly agitated and pressed the phone closer and closer to his ear as his face turned ever deeper shades of red. Eventually, with an appearance of anger, (Of all things!) he ripped the booklet from the shelf, thrust it into my hands, and pointedly motioned towards the door. Seeing my opportunity, I beat a hasty retreat before he could come to his senses and ask for the return of or payment for the object of my admiration.

 In conclusion, the 2001 Parker Company Product Catalogue is a rare find without which no vexillalibrist’s collection is truly complete. Whether by hook or by crook, I would highly recommend securing a copy for yourself. Happy hunting!

Editor’s Note: The Parker Gasket Company was bought out by Xi Chung Heavy Industry of Singapore, sold to Petróleo Mexicano, and liquidated in late 2002.

… or, “How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Sniglet.”

I just think words should be used properly.
(The higher up(s) compelled me to display our confidential correspondence)

“Hey Nick, Check out this sentence from wikipedia:
A Velvet Elvis is a painting of Elvis Presley on velvet. It is sometimes known as a velvis [1], (the term Velvis was originally coined in 1984 by David Knechel as a sniglet).

I think the author of the obviously-tacked-on parenthetical statement was just trying to impress me, although he failed to link to the sniglet wiki properly. (He inserted it as a reference number instead of an activated word, sheesh.) Wouldn’t you say that “velvis” was actually a portmanteau and not a sniglet?

Sniglets are often, though not always, completely fabricated words, not just quirky contractions… It’s sort of a moot point on that wiki, but I don’t think that’s really correct wording. (Additionally, as much as I love parenthetical statements, I try to rewrite them on wikipedia sans those lovely curves since there are WAY too many of them boomeranging around. A guy could get hurt…)”

I was 17 when first I met her.

It was a late summer evening and I was channel-surfing to relieve my boredom. I stumbled unto the movie channel AMC, and what I saw astounded me.

The film was Woody Allen’s “Annie Hall,” and I have been hooked ever since. Made in 1977, “Annie Hall” is Allen’s magnum opus to relationships and the city of New York. “Annie Hall” stars Allen, Diane Keaton and Tony Roberts. Secondary roles are filled by Carol Kane, Paul Simon (you know, of Simon and Garfunkel), Shelly Duvall and even a young Christopher Walken.

A winner of four Academy Awards (Best Picture, Director (Allen), Screenplay (Allen and Marshall Brickman) and Actress (Keaton), “Annie Hall” is a contemporary masterpiece.

The film humorously and poignantly chronicles the relationship and ultimate breakup of neurotic New York comedian Alvy Singer (Allen) and Annie Hall (Keaton). “Annie Hall” follows Alvy as he sifts through the memories of their partnership, trying to figure out why they parted ways.

The film’s story is told in a nonlinear fashion – that is, the events are presented in a non-chronological manner. This is an element common in cinema of today, but it was revolutionary in the late 1970s. “Annie Hall” also fits many other varying film techniques into one movie. For example, Allen’s character often breaks the fourth wall by directly addressing the audience while interacting with other characters on screen. Split-screen scenes and animation are also used, along with a segment where subtitles reveal what Annie and Alvy are really thinking when they interact with each other.

A lot of what happens in “Annie Hall” bends reality. During one of my favorite bits, Alvy pulls media theorist Marshall McLuhan from thin air and uses his help to silence an annoying movie patron. “Oh, if life were only like this,” Alvy says. This is surely something any serious film buff can identify with. As I was leaving a movie the other day I couldn’t help but overhear the couple in front of me: “Have you ever seen a dumber movie? That was so stupid! How did Ebert give that four stars?” The Alvy inside me wanted to pull the Coen brothers out from behind the concession stand to help me push them into oncoming traffic.

Although comedic, Allen uses his humor to explore serious themes: the nature of love, the existence of God, etc. These themes are staples of Allen’s work, but they are particularly important to note in “Annie Hall” because of the film’s autobiographical nature. Just like their character’s, Allen and Keaton had been lovers in the early 1970s, but ultimately separated. Allen’s deep feelings for Keaton allowed him to create an incredibly truthful and highly personal film.

“Diane Hall is her real name,” Allen revealed in an interview. “She had to change it to Keaton, which is her mother’s maiden name, because there was a Diane Hall in Actor’s Equity, and so there couldn’t be two of them.”

Because she is essentially Annie Hall herself, Keaton’s gives one of cinema’s greatest performances. As film historian Graham Fuller put it, “Nothing more perfectly captures Annie’s lyricism than the awkward, winning musicality of Keaton’s flow.”

The film is not only about the relationship between Alvy and Annie, but between Alvy and the audience as well. “I wanted the audience to experience this with me,” Allen said. “That was the impetus for doing the picture.”

“Annie Hall” is my favorite movie not just because of its technical brilliancy, its hilarious script or its dead-on performances, but because of how true to life it is. Allen addresses the bittersweet nature of relationships and creates a film that is as close to perfection as any could be.

After 30 years, “Annie Hall” is still a cut above most films. It’s relatable, refreshing and, most of all, genuinely funny.

Take some time and meet her for yourself.

Your vintage multimedia maven here, back with another European artist who is less well-known to American audiences, Charles Trénet (1913-2001). I had no idea who he was until I heard one of his songs in a toilet paper commercial and then scoured the internet until I found out who he was. Do you remember in finding Nemo and then later in LOST where they sing… well, you know… that old song? It’s La Mer, which in English was a big hit as Beyond the Sea for Bobby Darin, the ’60s swinger who died prematurely of a heart condition. Unfortunately, the only live clip online of singer-songwriter Trenet singing his most-famous work is when he’s an old fogey. Interestingly, rockabilly sensation Cliff Richard opted to learn the song in its original tongue.

Trénet was popular primarily from the ’30s-’50s, but remained popular with his fans until his death in 2001. Unusually for his era, he exclusively performed and recorded songs he wrote himself. Here he is performing his first big hit, “Boum”… the film version or, if you like, the hopped-up warp-speed rendition (perhaps he wanted to get it over with after singing it for 30 years.) I love the little women popping out and his nicely tailored mafioso attire.

Dubbed “Le Fou Chantant” (the Singing Fool/Madman), Trénet’s pleasant baritone, animated stage presence, and penchant for unusual lyrics helped his songs take off and contributed to his career’s longevity. Some of his whimsical and surreal lyrical imagery included the Eiffel tower walking across the street and lovers engaged in a minuet who become ‘no longer human’, but wax figures trapped in a museum.

Over the course of his 60-years of performing, Trénet published close to a thousand songs, along with books of poetry and a few novels for good measure, although he tended to downplay the impressiveness of his prolific composition.

Clarita! Nicole! Here’s Nick’s favorite Trénet clip, from 1938’s decidedly silly Je Chante. The song’s name is as fun as his sweater is awesome: “Ah! Dis, Ah! Dis, Ah! Bonjour”

La romance de Paris. I love how he cocks his hat, which he often also uses as a prop.

Here is a song of his I particularly fancy, “L’âme des artistes (Longtemps)” in an abridged form from a 1951 film. (Generally I think he aged pretty well—see his live Dutch show at age 50.)

And that’s Charles Trénet for you.

Be seeing you!

.:re:.

For more:

Chicks dig fake piano playing.

Chicks dig horribly fake street scenes.

Old chicks dig records of yourself.

I look at this clip from “Quadrophenia” (1979) and I wonder where all the pride has gone. Here (1965 London), we have what may be the coolest subculture ever in history, predating today’s hipsters by a good 40 years with every thread the smart sweatervest and every hair the clever cut, doing the dirty work of discovering the Stones so that you could “discover” them in Dad’s vinyl or in older sister’s iTunes decades later.

But what’s most striking is the chant. “We are the mods! We are the mods! We are the we are the we are the mods!” When was the last time you identified with a social group where you were amped up enough to sing a song about being one of the them? Remember “Grease”? I wasn’t alive in the 50’s but I’m for damn sure those Scorpions had Mom sewing the name of the gang in the back of that leather jacket, flicking cigarette ash at her head with every stray stitch. I know this for a fact because I saw it in Grease.

Even as recently as the 1980s (fact check -ed.), it was integral to LA gang culture to identify oneself with a primary color. The non-verbal nature of this rallying call of membership probably had more than anything to do with keeping a low profile to stay out of the grips of the law. Were LAPD not an issue, we could easily have seen bands of original gangsters banding shoulder-to-shoulder cheering “We are the bloods, we are the bloods, we are the we are the we are the bloods!” before getting off to beat the shit out of some rockers, or whatever the bloods were fighting against in the 1980s. I’m pretty sure it was rockers.

The only group that comes to mind that maintains any sort of vocal pride these days (without being affiliated with a sports team or a cabin at summer camp) is the Nerds. It seems like we (I’m wearing the colors of this gang) are unafraid in this social climate to loudly call ourselves what we are. And you know what? That makes us cool. Because if it weren’t for the Nerds, there’d be no YouTube and no Quadrophenia clip and thus no original mods, and worse yet, i’d probably have to join a gang called the Beards and no one’s really afraid of the Beards.

Based on various inflection, the title of this now collarative blog (collaboblog) that Nick has invited me to join as a contributor could mean a few different things:

• “Look! Shiny!” Probably the most common read, this title exuberantly dances and points to things fun and enticing to distract the reader from the boring and awful.
• “Look, Shiny.” Somewhat derogatory, the author of the blog assumes poor hygiene on the part of the reader and the resulting oils secreted from the skin form the basis of a cruel epithet.
• “Look shiny!” would name more of a self-help, style and beauty guide of a blog, encouraging readership with the promise of a healthy and radiant glow, tips for which can be found within. Probably not so much of this kind of thing here.
• “Looks Hiny” For the buttman or buttlady (buttress?), a group to which I belong and a feed to which I would eagerly subscribe.
• “lookshiny” just a string of letters tastefully arranged into phonemes, giving only ambiguous cues as to any possible semantic significance. I’ll go with this one, and will contribute under its auspices.

Please stand by and we’ll see if I don’t just fuck this up. Nick, can I say ‘fuck’? It’s kind of my thing.

In that context, this web ad looks relatively tame:

But what is this little stage? It’s a bit like a winner’s pedestal. But the way this model’s using it, it’s more like a stand-in for a certain marital aid: the Liberator.

This inconveniently-heeled nurse is modeling two shapes from Liberator Bedroom Adventure Gear, a site full of sex toys. So even this fully clothed model, who appeared next to this nonsexual Daily Mail article, is suggesting a playful bout of sex. The message is subtle enough to keep the average reader from complaining to the Mail, but it’s still part of AA owner Dov Charney’s formula: Sell with sex.

But I prefer the products that intentionally make me feel guilty.

WWF paper dispenser

Oh. I…I’ll just wipe them on my pants.

Scarface and capitalism shirt

And I got f*cked to the tune of $17 by the Ironic Corporation!

Disappearing civil liberties mug

Heat the mug and lose freedom of speech, freedom to assemble…man, now breakfast is fun!

Global warming mug

Better than the civil liberties mug, this one makes you feel bad just for using energy to make your coffee.

Sweatshop Nikes

When Nike let customers pick slogans for custom sneakers, a dude named Jonah Peretti tried to order a pair with the word “sweatshop.” Nike said no; the news spread around the Internet; the point was made. Good thing too; if Jonah had pulled it off, all he’d have is a guilty pair of shoes.

Today, my favorite music group ever (also discovered via the Mafia game). With more hits over a larger span of time than any other group, this group sang jazz and pop, made over 2,000 recordings, and sold more than 50 million records. Drumroll please… they’re The Mills Brothers.

Try to wrap your mind around this: the four brothers started singing together in 1922. Their first big hit, Tiger Rag (first recorded by the Original Dixieland Jazz Band in 1917), was recorded in 1931. Their LAST great hit was in 1968! Holy cow! (Think of the changes in music over the past 37 years… times three.)

Brother John Mills, Jr. died in 1934 and was replaced by their father for 20 years and a guitarist. When Dad retired, they sang as a trio until 1982, and front-man Donald kept going with a younger relative until his death in 1999! And he pretty much always sounded awesomely mellow. Dang. (If you’re in a big rush, the first and last clips are the best quality, btw.)

Max Fleischer, who did a lot of kooky cartoons in the ’30s and featured the Mills Brothers in their first film appearance. Check out the groovy TV… pretty high tech for 1932, eh? This includes a modified version of “I Ain’t Got Nobody” (that song Igor parodied in Young Frankenstein) and also part of “Tiger Rag”. They feature some great ‘brass-less’ brass solos, a trademark of theirs, and some pretty crazy scat.

The rest of these clips don’t do them justice, I’ll be honest. The recordings are either very poor (YouTube) quality or some of the live recordings have bands which drown out their great harmonies (and most are not from their early years). But oh well, take that for what it’s worth…
Here is their famous rendition of Duke Ellington’s “Caravan”, which they happen to do as an instrumental. (Dad had joined them at this point)

Here is another great early hit of theirs, “Till Then”. Donald’s voice is like velvet in this clip. The only problem? Harry (their other soloist) was drafted for a year and the random guy filling in, Gene Smith, doesn’t sound like him at all! It was actually really hard for me to find that information and when I finally did a few months ago I added it to their wikipedia entry:

This is a song by one of my favorite composers, Hoagy Carmichael. This is Up the Lazy River (NOT the Old Mill Stream… another standard erroneously named here). Hoagy also wrote Heart and Soul (not just the part you know) and the most recorded song ever, Star Dust. (For a very mediocre rendition, you can hear me play it at this page.) Unfortunately they are missing Harry again so his nice solo work goes to poor Gene, looking awkwardly ectopic once again.

Great clip from Lawrence Welk’s show, 1964.
“Paper Doll” is one of their all-time big hits.
“That’s the thing that makes the show business”. Thanks Lawrence… whatever the heck that means.

More: Yellow Bird, 1971

I try to keep these clean, but if you want to see an interesting movie fight montage (with some initial expletives from Fight Club) set to a great Mills Bros. song, click THIS.

And that’s it for today. So put away that Oingo Boingo for a minute and pick up a Mills Brothers album. Their actual recordings are way better than any YouTube clips folks.

Be seeing you!
.:re:.

Granted, Richardson and Kucinich are not front-runners, unlike Republican Mitt Romney, who believes angels buried sacred golden plates in upstate New York.

Howdy folks,

Despite some of his rather insipid films, Steve Martin really is one of the most talented people in show business, whether it be singing, writing, acting, directing, standup, magic, dancing, and yes… even banjo.

1. Banjo
I’m a biased banjophile, so this is going in here first! Steve is a fantastic 5-string banjo player. (Yes, there are other kinds of banjos… don’t worry, I will have a post later with my favorite banjo type, the four-string tenor banjo). Here he is playing in a small group which includes Roger McGuinn of the Byrds.

There is another great clip of him playing his own composition, The Crow with Béla Fleck. (Fleck has a lot of neat albums–not limited to bluegrass– and plays a lot with Victor Wooten, the greatest bass player there is. Check him out)

2. Writing
He sure did turn a phrase in this great scene from The Jerk. Incidentally, this movie was directed by Carl Reiner, Rob Reiner’s father. Carl starred and acted in some hilarious shows in the ’50s and ’60s (including Dick van Dyke) and he also plays the old fellow, Saul, in Ocean’s Eleven, et al.

3. Singing
Also from The Jerk, in this scene with Bernadette Peters, Steve strums a uke and sings a very endearing tune, “Tonight You Belong To Me.” It was a mild hit for a lesser group of the 1950s, Patience and Prudence.

4. Magic
In a very early TV appearance, Steve does his dud magic act schtick. One of his first jobs was as a writer for “The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour”, a great variety show in the late ’60s. Yes! In his 20s, he still had dark hair, believe it or not.

Also, check out his infamously hilarious magic routine for Carson: Flydini

5. Standup
An amusing routine with balloon animals. L.A., 1979.

6.-7. Acting/Directing
I went ahead and combined these for Steve’s short, “The Absent Minded Waiter”… quite the star studded affair. Marvin Hamlisch also wrote music for the excellent film The Sting with Paul Newman and Robert Redford. Teri Garr was the Bavarian hottie in Young Frankenstein. Buck Henry worked on “Get Smart”, “SNL”, and the screenplay for The Graduate.

8. Dancing
And finally, wow… Steve is able to keep pace with one of the greatest tap dancers of all time, Gregory Hines. This was filmed in 1981, shortly after Steve had released a musical (which didn’t do very well, sadly). The song, “Fit As A Fiddle”, is near and dear to my heart… it was written in 1932 by Arthur Freed and Nacio ‘Herb’ Brown in 1932 for MGM and used in multiple movies over the years, finding its most prominent place in the greatest Hollywood musical ever, Singin’ in the Rain (which happened to be produced by Freed).

After many years of being single, Steve just got remarried in July, so good for him. And he also likes “Doctor Who”, so that’s a big plus in my book. So there you have it… Steve Martin is the man!

Be seeing you!

.:re:.

“What is a movie star? A movie star is many things. They can be tall, short, thin, or skinny. They can be democrats… or skinny.” — Steve Martin

Django Reinhardt (1910-53) was an enigmatic Belgian gypsy who achieved great fame as a guitarist in the definitive European jazz group of the day (and probably of all time), the Quintet of the Hot Club of France. Most famously he played with the violin virtuoso Stepháne Grappelli, making many recordings throughout the ‘30s and later off and on until his death. He never quite became accustomed to the non-gypsy life, however, and was even said to have abandoned a brand new car on the side of the road after it ran out of gas.

The most amazing thing to me, however, is that at the age of 18, Django accidentally set fire to the caravan he was in and burned his hand horribly. He refused to have his leg amputated and managed to convalesce in bed, guitar in hand.

His left fourth and fifth digits of were permanently curled towards his palm due to the tendons shrinking. He could use them on the first two strings of the guitar for chords and octaves, but all of his soloing had to be done with the index and middle fingers. He was influenced by some of the jazz greats and was able to show off his great improvisations in all of his arrangements.

(Oddly enough, I discovered him, along with my favorite music group of all time, through the great PC video game MAFIA… It has great period music and I highly recommend it.)

He was a very precise and emotive player, as you can see below. It’s also interesting to observe his left-hand acrobatics:

For more info, see this great site Red Hot Jazz site

Be seeing you!
Rich, V.M.M. ;)

The credibility of a blogger with a Hannibal Lecter avatar notwithstanding, the next time I’m in Safeway I’ll be haunted by the thought of graying dudes undressing me with their eyes. Which, since I shop in the Castro district, is nothing new.