Well, dear readers, it is 10:00 – do you know where your children are? Remember that old saw? Did you know that the first high-profile use of that old saw was right here in Los Angeles, California, USA on local channel nine, KHJ-TV where it was read every night during the ten o’clock station break – first whatever time it was followed by “Do you know where your children are?” The most popular usage was “It’s ten o’clock, do you know where your children are?” Of course, in the year 1964, my parents would have responded, “No, so what?” It became a PSA in the late 1960s and continued through the late 1980s. I ask you, where else on all the Internet can you read about the old saw, “Do you know where your children are?” Only here, that’s where. And there doesn’t seem to be a lot of information out there about old saw, but I like it, don’t you? That old saw. That just has a certain ring to it, doesn’t it, and so, for that or any other matter, does my cell phone. Meanwhile, I am sitting here like so much fish, listening to Bruno with a B’s wonderful interpretation in stereophonic sound of the four Brahms with a B symphonies. Beautifully done and beautifully recorded. What other old saws do we like? Haste makes waste. That’s a good old saw. A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. That is a rather obtuse old saw. A stitch in time saves nine. I don’t know about that old saw. I did a stitch in time and it only saved six. Well, I think we’ve exhausted the use of this here paragraph, don’t you? I think it’s time we moved on, don’t you?
Yesterday was a bit of a day. I did get ten hours of good sleep, got up, did some things that needed doing, had a bit of e-mail drama which I think is all going to work out fine now, went to the mail place and picked up a teeny-tiny package from Saturday, and then came home.
At that point, I had some work to do and that took about ninety minutes to get done. And then there was some Kritzerland show stuff to take care of, and then I finally made two tuna sandwiches on bagels for the meal o’ the day, and after eating them, I had the little bit of rice pudding that was left from the day before. I had a couple of telephonic calls, and then I finally sat on my couch like so much fish.
Last night, I finished watching Secret Beyond the Door. It’s really a mediocre movie – very well directed, but with a hopelessly bad script fully of psychological mumbo jumbo. The actors are all fine and the score by Miklos Rozsa is not one of his best, but it’s clear he’s trying to give the film some drama that it sorely lacks. None of this is helped by the inept transfer, whose soundtrack is so low that you literally cannot hear much of the film. Shame on Olive and shame on the authoring house and shame on whoever they licensed it from. There is no excuse for it to have been this bad. The visual part of the transfer wouldn’t win any awards either, but at least it looks reasonable. Heavily not recommended by the likes of me, despite my being a huge fan of Fritz Lang, Michael Redgrave (not his finest hour thanks to the poor writing), and Joan Bennett.
After that, I listened to music, did a few things on the computer, relaxed, and wondered where the children are.
Today, I’ll arise when I arise, I’ll do whatever needs doing, I’ll hopefully pick up some packages, I’ll eat something here, and then I’ll do Kritzerland show stuff as we begin to get ready for our August 9 show. At some point, I’ll watch, listen, and relax.
The rest of the week is more of the same – Kritzerland show stuff, errands and whatnot, finding some new food adventures, finishing up the Bruno with a B box (I’m only about ten CDs away from that), and doing whatever else needs doing.
In the ever-fascinating department: I occasionally search my name on eBay to see if there’s anything interesting – mostly it’s CDs or my books, but occasionally something of interest shows up and that happened early last week – a program from How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying for the Panorama Music Workshop, done on the campus of LA Valley College in June of 1971. Playing Finch in this production was my very own self. I have little memory of it, didn’t really want to do it, was coerced by its director, and it was pretty amateur all the way. I’d already played Finch in a wonderful production at LACC with Annette Cardona, Linda Hart, and Michael Lembeck. This one was basically community theater but they did have a full orchestra. The sets were horrible, but it was only four performances and I did like my Rosemary, Doraine Nathanson.
I don’t remember how the director found me, but he’d heard about me and asked me to come meet him. I’d already done The Young Lawyers and my first pilot for CBS so I wasn’t in the mood to go backwards (and right after this, I’d shoot my first Partridge Family), but he was persuasive because he happened to be a rather famous literary agent with his own agency, representing a lot of big writers. I met, he was a nice enough guy, they asked me to sing and I REALLY remember not wanting to, but again he was persuasive, so I sang a little I Believe in You and they asked me to do the show and because he was persuasive, I said yes. It was a short rehearsal period, and the cast, mostly students, couldn’t have been nicer, so it was fun in its own way. He wasn’t what you’d call a good director, but it was short and painless and over quickly. But what are the chances this program would show up? I didn’t even have one. We did do an LP, which I have somewhere, and which is pretty dreadful. So, I bought the program and inside it were two ticket stubs and a review of the show, a nicer than it needed to be review, but I thankfully got praised. So, you never know what’s going to show up.
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, arise when I arise, do whatever needs doing, hopefully pick up some packages, eat something here, do Kritzerland show stuff, and then watch, listen, and relax. Today’s topic of discussion: What are your favorite old saws, the weirder and more outre, the better. Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we, whilst I hit the road to dreamland, where I shall dream of old saws and new hammers.