Well, dear readers, it is a day to celebrate. It is a day to break out the ham chunks and cheese slices. It is a day to put on our pointy party hats and dance the Hora, or even the Mashed Potato. Why is it a day to do all those things? Well, I’ll tell you why it is a day to do all those things, because why should I keep it from you? It is a day to celebrate because today I have approved the galley of my very own novel, Benjamin Kritzer. It is finished, I am putting it to bed and now they will get it ready for publication. Isn’t that exciting? Isn’t that just too too? This has been a long journey, dear readers – I saw my first galley in mid-March. That galley was so not what I wanted in every single way that we basically had to start over from scratch. But the story has a happy ending – the book now looks splendid and exactly like I hoped and prayed it would. Oh, happy day, as they say in Li’l Abner, the Broadway musical comedy. I will keep you posted on all developments and when it will be available to order.
Speaking of Li’l Abner, do you know what I bought on eBay the other day? I bought an album I didn’t even know existed (on LP) – a jazz version of the score by Shelly Manne and Andre Previn. I haven’t heard it yet, but I’m looking forward to spinning that platter this very day. Also on this very day I am having luncheon with one of our very own dear readers, Mr. Mark Rothman, who was recently a winner in one of our handy-dandy trivia contests. I’ve actually known Mr. Rothman for many years, as he used to be a writer on Laverne and Shirley. How he found our little site I have no idea, but find it he did. I love the fact that you dear readers come from all walks of life. What I’d like to know is if any of you come from all runs of life? Why does everyone always have to come from the walks of life? How about the trots of life? I’m tired of the fershluganah walks of life.
I have been feeling a little under the weather this entire week – and now my throat feels weird, but I am fighting whatever it is and I intend to win this fight. I wish to feel over the weather, not under it. I think it’s just because I hadn’t been getting much sleep prior to our handy-dandy benefit and that lack of sleep finally caught up with me. Tonight I will be having my handy-dandy Russian masseuse come over to massage me, and I know that will make me feel like I’m on the top of the world, ma.
It’s a beautiful Friday here in Los Angeles, California. The skies are blue and there is a gentle breeze blowing, rustling the leaves of the trees. My goodness, that was poetic, wasn’t it? I almost wept for the sheer poetry of it all, but then I decided to eat a gummy horse instead. That is a fine way to start off a morning, eating a gummy horse. This particular gummy horse was pale green. Perhaps I’ll eat a pink gummy horse next. What the hell am I talking about? Eating gummy horses? We must have something better to talk about. Excuse me for a moment.
No, apparently we don’t have anything better to talk about. I just roamed around my very own home looking for something better to talk about and yet I found nothing that was better to talk about than eating a green and pink gummy horse.
Last night I watched a classic film noir, Anthony Mann’s Raw Deal. Mr. Mann was a fine director, and his films noir are amongst the best of the genre, due to his collaboration with the brilliant cinematographer, John Alton. Not a great script or anything, but the performances are fun (Claire Trevor, Dennis O’Keefe and a very large and young Raymond Burr) and the direction and photography are incredible. I also recommend the other Anthony Mann/John Alton DVD that just came out, T-Men.
What am I, writing the whole of these notes in this first section? How unseemly of me. Let us save some of the whole of these notes for the next section before we are bitch-slapped by Mr. Mark Bakalor, that very busy hale fellow well met. Or is it well fellow hale met? Oh, let’s just click on that Unseemly Button and be done with it.
I have just eaten a white and yellow gummy horse. Actually, I don’t think they’re gummy horses, they’re more like creamsicle horses. I have gummy fish, for example, and they look nothing like what I’m calling gummy horses. But I don’t like calling the horses creamsicle, that is just heinous (heinous, do you hear me?). So, I shall continue calling them gummy horses, and the devil take the hindmost, whatever the hell that means.
I just ate a purple gummy/creamsicle horse and it was yucky. I immediately went through the gummy jar and pulled out all purple gummy/creamsicle horses and consigned them to the trash bag.
Don’t forget, tomorrow is our handy-dandy Unseemly Trivia Contest, and I already have the question. And Donald tells me he will have a brand spanking new radio show up for your listening pleasure, come this Sunday evening. Donald has also asked me to pick out my twelve favorite showtunes (in any version) and I will endeavor to do so, even though that is a daunting task. Then I will go to his handy-dandy home and do the radio show with him. Isn’t that exciting? I shall be on the radio and my voice will carry forth through the internet ether to all waiting ears. Wasn’t that poetic? I almost wept for the sheer poetry of it all.
Speaking of anagrams (we were yesterday), here’s one, which I should post, but I’ll just put it here: “Hi. Post: Send me hen”. Who is it?
I have got to stop with these gummy/creamsicle horses, they are addictive. You can’t just eat one of these damn horses, you must eat ten of them. However, when you eat ten gummy/creamsicle horses then you want to throw up. This is called the conundrum of the gummy/creamsicle horses, which I feel is also a fine title for a book.
I am already beginning to feel a little better. I will not give in, I will fight being sick. I will eat sushi at luncheon, but only the kind that is cooked, such as a California Roll and shrimp. I do not like eating raw fish on rice. That is just not what I do. There’s something about the slimy gelatinous taste of raw fish that makes me want to vomit, and I already want to vomit from all the stupid gummy/creamsicle horses I have eaten.
Well, dear readers, I shall keep these here notes brief today, because yesterday’s were so endlessly long. Back in the One From Column A days, I spoke of a joke book that Mr. David Shire had created, to which I contributed quite a few things. This was known as the Coprophiliac’s Joke Book, and it made fine bathroom reading. For those who don’t know, coprophilia is a love of excrement. Yes, Virginia, you read that right – a love of excrement. So, here are a few typical Coprophiliac’s Joke Book jokes:
What is a coprophiliac’s favorite children’s book: Winnie the Pooh.
What is a coprophiliac’s favorite kids’ television program: Howdy Doody.
Where is a coprophiliac’s favorite place on a ship: The poop deck.
What are a coprophiliac’s favorite pair of pants: Dungarees.
What does a coprophiliac order in a Chinese restaurant: Poo-Poo Platter.
Where is a coprophiliac’s favorite place to sit in a bar: The bar stool.
What is a coprophiliac’s favorite movement in a symphony: Number Two.
Well, you get the idea. Today’s topic of discussion: Make up your own coprophiliac jokes and add them to our book. Your turn.