Well, dear readers, it is just a few short days until a) my annual Christmas Do, and then Christmas Day, and then, unbelievably, it is just a few short days to the New Year. I have much to do for the Do and I’ll begin doing the Do stuff this very day. Today I sang Raindrops Keep Fallin’ On My Head because raindrops WERE fallin’ on my head. Have you ever actually thought about the lyrics to this song? Let’s sing the first few lines, shall we? On the count of three: One, two, three –
Raindrops keep fallin’ on my head
And just like the guy whose feet are too big for his bed
Nothin’ seems to fit
Okay, now call me crazy, call me Bwana, call me madam, call me Ishmael, but what does line one have to do with lines two and three? Let’s try to puzzle it out, shall we? Raindrops keep fallin’ on my head – so far, so good. I get it. And just like the guy whose feet are too big for his bed, nothin’ seems to fit. Okay, stop the world. Hold the phone. Halt. Who is this guy with the big feet anyway? And how can his feet be too big for his bed – just what kind of bed is he sleeping in anyway, a crib? And what doesn’t fit? Nothin’? That’s a little extreme, isn’t it? I mean, really, NOTHING fits? Not his shirt? His pants? His underpants? His shoes? His socks. NOTHING FITS THIS GUY? Did he just gain or lose a lot of weight? And what do the raindrops fallin’ on his head have to do with the price of artichokes? Why am I talking about Raindrops Keep Fallin’ On My Head? Oh, yes, because raindrops WERE falling on my head. Yes, Virginia, we had another rainy day here in the City of Studio – rainy in the sense the we had an occasional drizzle on and off for almost the whole day. Speaking of the whole day, I had a rather whole day yesterday whilst the raindrops were fallin’ on my head. For example, I woke up after I found my feet were too big for my bed. I hate when that happens. I had to answer quite a few e-mails and attend to a few other items, and then it was time to toddle off to lunch with Mr. Brian Childers, the gentleman who is currently playing Mr. Danny Kaye in The Kid From Brooklyn here at the El Portal Theater. Mr. Childers is a very nice fellow and I had a really good time at lunch. We spoke of many things, even of cabbages and kings, but we did not speak about anyone’s feet being too big for their bed – somehow that never came up. I was fascinated to hear of his journey with Mr. Kaye, and we discussed a whole plethora of other things. We ate at Art’s Deli, and Art was even there, which is always fun. Anyway, it was a nice lunch and I hope Brian will stick around and get to know everyone, since everyone is worth getting to know. After lunch, I had to hie myself back home to see Benjamin (BJ) Clark. After that, I went and shipped the one package that was left to ship, and thankfully the little mini-postal office I went to wasn’t too crowded – I only was there about ten minutes. I then picked up some mail at the mail place, the most exciting of which was the package containing the DVDs of our fundraiser concert. I got home quickly, and put the center camera DVD on and it was so much fun to see the opening number again, and I fast-forwarded to other numbers – I’m going to watch straight through today. The quality is pretty good, although the sound is a bit rough at times (the “A” camera took the sound board mix – the “B” camera has the camera sound, which is pretty useless except for the audience applause and laughs, which is better because she was IN the audience, shooting). I watched a little of the “B” camera, and I think the whole thing could probably be edited decently, so I may go on bended knee to dear reader edisaurus and see if she’d be up for it. If it came out decently, I might go back to the performers and see if they’d sign off on Kritzerland releasing it as a DVD, and I’d donate most of the profits to LACCTAA. Or, I might just press up a few DVDRs for our folks, although everyone who was in the show would still have to sign off. On the other hand, they’d all get their footage to use however they so chose. And we could also put a couple of clips on You Tube. So, we shall see, but what a joy it was seeing some of the performances again from afar. After that, I did some work on the computer, then finally sat on my couch like so much fish.
Last night, I watched one motion picture on DVD, and one documentary on DVD. The motion picture was entitled Next, starring Mr. Nicholas Cage and Miss Julianne Moore. It’s one of those high concept, big-budget action thrillers that thinks it’s being original, when in fact we’ve had a whole slew of variations on this particular plot (in this case, someone who can see two minutes into the future, but only for events that involve HIM). It’s not any worse or any better than any of the others that have had huge grosses, but this one completely tanked at the box-office, grossing a measly seventeen million bucks on a budget of seventy million, which basically means the film not only lost seventy million, but also the millions upon millions use to promote it. I don’t think it’s going to have much of a life on DVD either. All that said, it moves along at a steady clip, and Mr. Cage is always weird and interesting to watch. It’s a preposterous film, but it’s interesting to me that people didn’t buy its concept, but do buy those ridiculous impossible and endless CGI chase scenes from any number of current films, as if those were believable. The real problem for Next occurs in its last fifteen minutes, where the film just totally dissolves into nothingness. Transfer was fine, although as with so many of today’s films, the director favors everything yellow and brown, which I just don’t get and which I find completely ugly to look at.
I then watched a documentary entitled Disneyland: Secrets, Stories, and Magic, which is part of one of those Disney limited edition tins. The documentary is quite long, and has some wonderful footage and interviews, but it is really ineptly put together in just about every way. There’s so much good inherent drama about the conception and opening of Disneyland that it’s hard to fathom how there is NO drama, nor even a real point of view to this documentary. It also has no style whatsoever. It seems to have been made in 2006, and Julie Andrews bookends the show. And I could live without the Robert Iger and Michael Eisner bits, which were sort of so self-congratulatory that it was nausea-inducing – Walt would have never done that. There is also a vintage Cinemascope short about the opening, which I’m looking forward to watching.
Well, why don’t we all click on the Unseemly Button below whilst we ponder the guy whose feet are too big for his bed and What It Means.
Can someone tell me when this obnoxious trend began – you know, if you visit online boards you’ll invariably see someone post something like Oh. My. Word. When did that trend begin – doing three words, period after each word, and each word’s first letter capitalized? It had to start somewhere, and I just loathe it, so someone find out the history of this folly and report back. Yes. You. Must.
Today, I shall be doing all sorts of things, but most importantly I shall shop for the Christmas Eve Do. There are many ingredients to buy for Ye Olde Spaghetti and Ye Olde Tuna Pasta Salad, and other things. I want to get as much as I can, so that I can do the dessert shopping on Sunday and be done with all of it so I don’t have to brave the ridiculous traffic on the 24th. I also have several errands to run and a couple of gifts to buy.
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, shop for the Do, do errands, and perhaps drive about in my motor car for its own sake. And, of course, today what did I find at my front door? Yes, Virginia, I found nine ladies dancing, courtesy of my true love, who is really starting to get on my nerves, if you must know. I mean, there’s a lot of women in my home, what with these nine ladies dancing (two are doing the Lambada – The Forbidden Dance, two are doing the old-fashioned waltz, two are doing the dance of the seven veils, two are doing the Swim, and one poor girl is doing the Hokey Pokey all by her very own self), and these eight maids a-milking. We’ve all been playing gin rummy and having fun, but really, it’s a little MUCH. Today’s topic of discussion: It’s Friday – what is currently in your CD player, and your DVD/video player? I’ll start – CD, Vince Mendoza’s Epiphany, which is a brilliant orchestral jazz album. In the car, a two CD promo of Jule Styne songs issued by Warner Chappell publishing. DVD, the fundraiser, and then The Mod Squad, season one. Your turn. Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we, and I do hope that none of you dear readers’ feet are too big for your bed and that everything fits.