Well, dear readers, last night I went over to our very own Donald Feltham’s house and did our very own radio show with special guest Lisa Richard. We had a good deal of fun and played lots of songs from her brand spanking new CD, including mine own. I had never been to Donald’s home before. Apparently, everyone else has been to Donald’s home before, just not me. I met his two very cute dogs, Bandit and I-forgot-the-name-of-the-other-one. The show will go up on Sunday and I recommend it to one and all and also all and one.
My God, my teeth are now so dazzlingly white that it’s starting to hurt my eyes when I look at them in the mirror. My teeth now resemble white Chiclets, and I’m so proud of them that I walk around all the livelong day smiling like an idiot. But here’s the problem: I have only given the upper teeth the treatment. Therefore, the lower teeth are dull and uninteresting-looking. They just sit there like so much fish, looking bland. So, I fear I must now give the lower teeth the whitening treatment or otherwise they will be sad and they will commit Hari-Kari or, as it’s known here in the US, Harry Carey. Well, we simply can’t have our lower teeth commit Harry Carey, or even John Agar, so whiten them we will.
I have a confession to make: I have been craving enchiladas. Yes, you heard it here, dear readers, I have been craving the enchilada. And yet, I have not done anything about the craving. That is because the opportunity has not presented itself to do anything about satisfying the craving. I am very particular about my enchiladas, oh yes, I am particular about my enchiladas. There is a restaurant near me, a very old and established Mexican restaurant called Casa Vega where they have quite excellent cheese enchiladas, not to mention quite excellent guacamole and salsa. However, the problem with this very old and established Mexican restaurant called Casa Vega is that one can never get in. It is always crowded, there is always a long wait, and frankly I hate waiting in restaurants. Casa Vega has become “in” with the younger set, can you believe it? It has become, in fact, quite the singles and pickup place. It is an amusing amalgam (maglama, spelled backwards) of older patrons who’ve been going to the restaurant since the Dawn of Man, and these very young and very loud people trying to score with each other and pick each other up to do heaven-knows-what filthy dirty things. These very young and very loud people don’t care about the enchiladas or the guacamole or the salsa – no, they sit and drink their beers and wear their thong underwear and frankly I want to curse them, oh yes, I want to curse them and tell them to go hang out elsewhere so that those of us who do care about the enchiladas and the guacamole and the salsa and who do not wear thong underwear can actually get into the damn place and eat. There, I’ve said it and I’m glad, damn their thong underwear eyes. I blame the entire downturn of civilization on thong underwear, the single most disgusting invention in the history of the world. Even worse than the George Foreman Grill. What the hell am I talking about? I am now livid about thong underwear! Ban it, bring back the panty line. Damn them, damn them all to hell. There, I’m finished now. Let’s all click the Unseemly Button below so we can move on to bigger and better things.
Well, you must admit, you never know what you’re going to get in these here notes. Lisa Richard described these here notes as me vomiting up everything that comes into my head – an apt description, I think. Of course, when she said that, I immediately accused her of wearing thong underwear, and she immediately told me she wasn’t wearing any underwear. I practically did the Danny Thomas Spit Take when she said that.
I saw the redone cover of my very own novel yesterday and it’s fantastic. I just love and adore it. For those who haven’t been keeping up, the art on the cover is by the brilliant Harvey Schmidt, composer of The Fantasticks, 110 In The Shade, I Do! I Do! and many others. Here is the story on how the art came to be. About five years ago I called Harvey, who is one of my dearest friends, and one of the sweetest people on earth. I said that for my birthday I wanted him to do a painting for me – I wanted an original painting by Harvey Schmidt. I had an idea for it, which I told him, and he said he’d love to do it. So, I sent him a photo of one of my childhood movie theaters, the Lido, and I told him what to put on the marquee, and I asked him to put a little boy standing by the box-office. Otherwise, he was on his own. It took a year, but I finally got my Harvey Schmidt painting and I fell head-over-heels in love with it. It was so vivid that I felt like I could just step into that painting and be back in 1956. Flash forward: I write my very first novel, Benjamin Kritzer. I’m trying to figure out what the cover should look like. And, without it really dawning on me before, there is a whole chapter which takes place at the Lido in which the double bill depicted on the marquee of the painting is playing. How perfect, I thought. That is just the perfect image for my book, I thought. I called Harvey and told him I was going to use it, and he was thrilled. I believe all this falls under the heading of serendipity.
Here is another interesting thing that is happening at the end of the week. Image Entertainment, in addition to putting out the Nudie Musical DVD, also told me they were putting out a brand spanking new DVD of Mr. Bert I. Gordon’s classic The Beginning of the End, a film in which giant grasshoppers wreak havoc on the world. They asked me if I could get Bert I. Gordon to do a commentary track. So, I called our very own Susan Gordon, who then called her very own Bert I. Gordon who, for various reasons, declined to take part. So, Susan and her mother Flora, who worked side-by-side with her then husband Bert I. Gordon on all aspects of his films, are going to do the commentary track. I’ll be doing it with them, sort of moderating. Won’t that be fun? Flora has some great stories about wrangling the grasshoppers and how the effects were done. Also, they showed me a little bit of the transfer, which is enhanced for widescreen and simply stunning, right off the camera negative. There is currently a DVD out from Rhino of this very same film, but taken from a beat up 16mm print – all video versions of this film have looked crappy and people will be shocked how good it looks. I’ll have a complete report for you.
Tonight I am going to a birthday dinner for my friend Barbara Deutsch, a very talented singer (she appears on the Adryan Russ album that I produced) and a lovely human. And tomorrow, Mr. Jason Graae and I are meeting once again (this time with a theater owner and producer) about doing our concert version of Drat! The Cat!. I will keep you posted on the progress of that.
Have I mentioned that I’m craving the enchilada? Have I mentioned that I cannot get into Casa Vega because of all the young and loud thong underwear-wearing people who are trying to pick each other up and be charming and sexy just so they can go home and do dirty and filthy things? Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute (that is three wait a minutes). Just hold on one second.
I knew it! I knew “craving the enchilada” sounded familiar. It’s a Hinky Meltz and Ernest Ernest song, part of their food suite of songs which, of course, includes the already printed Crab Cakes in Tarzana.
Well, you must hear this – it’s got a great Mexicali Herb Alpert-y feel to it.
CRAVING THE ENCHILADA Music by Hinky Meltz Lyrics by Ernest Ernest
Ai yi yi yi yi
I am craving the enchilada
On a plate with some rice and beans
I’m not craving taquitos
Or big fat burritos
When you eat those they drip on your jeans.
I am craving the enchilada
A tamale would not suffice
And to carne asada
I merely say nada
Enchilada is what would be nice.
One with beef, one with chicken or cheese
Can’t you see that I’m down on my knees
I deserve it, so serve it – I say “please”
Ai yi yi yi yi
I am craving the enchilada
A tostada is not my style
And I never say buenos
To chili rellenos
For enchiladas I’d walk a mile!
Some love chili con queso
Well, that’s fine if you say so
Some love tacos and huevos
But the one thing that I crave
Oh, serve it now!
It’s the one thing that I want oh
Bring it now and bring it pronto
Enchilada, my favorite dish!
Boy, now I’m really craving the enchilada. I may just have to go endure the young and the loud and the crowded thong over at Casa Vega. Today’s topic of discussion: Let’s continue our stroll down favorite songs lane – what is your favorite Johnny Mercer song? Of course, none of us are limiting it to one song now, are we? Well, I love Skylark, Days of Wine and Roses, One For My Baby, and the entire score to Li’l Abner. Post away.