Well, dear readers, holy mother of Pearl, it’s already Friday, and we are in the waning days of June. Why is it always holy mother of Pearl? Why is Pearl so special? Why not holy mother of Grace or Georgia or Ernestina? Or maybe, just maybe, it’s holy mother of pearl. But then why can’t we have holy mother of emerald or holy mother of opal? What the HELL am I going on about? I just got off on a tangent, didn’t I? Or did I get on off a tangent? I was thinking of socks today. I ask you, where else on all the Internet can you find such a sentence as I was thinking of socks today? Nowhere, that’s where. In any case, the subject of socks was on my mind and I began to wonder just who in tarnation created the sock. So, I did a little research and found out that the sock was created in 1732 by Herman Sock, a freemason, although he always wanted to be a paidmason. Mr. Sock occasionally liked to parry and he was therefore sometimes known as parry mason. In any case, one fine day Mr. Sock was walking around outside in his sandals, tending to his hydrangea bushes. The next thing he knew was that he lost a sandal and his foot was suddenly filled with muck and grime, not necessarily in that order. He went in the house and was most skeeved with his filthy foot. Even with the sandals his feet would always be quite rancid after a day in the outdoors. And so, he thought to himself, “Herman Sock, you ought to cover your feet with some material, and then they won’t get so damnably filthy.” He found some muslin and fashioned said muslin around his foot and he thought, “Aha – I love this new look for my feet.” He christened his invention the Sock, after his very own name. And centuries later, Socks are still popular, although Mr. Sock never received a penny in royalties. I think it’s time for this paragraph to come to a merciful end, don’t you?
Speaking of a merciful end, yesterday was a day. I got up, had to attend a meeting at LACC regarding our fundraiser, then had a two-hour rehearsal with Miss Joan Ryan, then came home and spent hours on the telephonic device, as well as answering e-mails on the laptop device. After all that, I finally sat on my couch like so much fish.
Last night, I watched a motion picture on DVD entitled Trog. I saw Trog the day it opened, and thought it one of the worst movies ever made, although I had quite a good time laughing AT it. Sometimes time is kind to such films, but, sadly, time has not been kind to Trog, which is still one of the worst movies ever made, and frankly it seems more horrid today than it did back then. Miss Joan Crawford, in her final big screen appearance (what a way to go out), looks dazed and confused during most of the film, as does Trog. Trog is the missing link, you see, found in a cave. It is basically a man in a hair suit with a really bad mask. They capture him, test him, inject him so that he remembers scenes of prehistoric horror from another film (presumably Hammer’s The Lost World), and then big, bad Michael Gough has a hissy fit, and in a drunken rage, tosses a rock at the poor Trog, who then escapes from his cage and kills Mr. Gough by pushing him onto the seat of his car. He then runs amok in a village, killing several people because they scream when they see him. He then goes to a park and sees a cute little blonde girl of six or seven. He likes her as a friend and takes her in his arms and carries her away, much to the horror of her mother who, instead of chasing after them, stands there screaming. In the end, Miss Crawford goes into the cage and is tender with Trog, gets the little girl back, and then poor Trog is shot to death. In the very touching final scene, a reporter asks Miss Crawford to comment, and she looks at him and walks away. The transfer, is excellent, after the opening titles, which are washed out. In fact, the color is perfect, and why Warners can give Trog perfect color but have The Wild Bunch and Harper be brown messes is beyond me. Trog was directed by Freddie Francis, a brilliant cameraman (The Innocents) but one of the worst directors ever.
Well, why don’t we all click on the Unseemly Button below whilst we ponder our socks, and say a silent prayer of thanks to Herman Sock.
I have no rehearsal with Miss Ryan today, so all that I really have scheduled is a haircut with Teddy. I will spend the rest of the day attending to telephonic calls and trying to make staff decisions for The Brain. I did set a casting director yesterday, someone I’ve met before, and who’s a big fan of my albums. I talked to a choreographer, but have a couple more to talk to today. And I’ll hopefully be talking to a few general manager/line producer types, too, as well as a few musical directors. I’ll also be talking to a musical director here in LA who’s a candidate for the fundraiser show.
I have no plans for this evening, other than to hopefully watch Queen Of Outer Space on DVD. Tomorrow, it’s more telephonic calls and organizing, and then tomorrow evening I’ll be seeing Mr. Cason Murphy in Cabaret, and then hopefully going out with the Murphy clan afterwards.
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, get a haircut, and do lots of Brain work. Today’s topic of discussion: It’s Friday – what is currently in your CD player, and your DVD/video player? I’ll start – a whole slew of CDs, trying to sift through material for the fundraiser. DVD, more cult classics. Your turn. Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we, and let’s all wear gaily-colored socks in honor of our very own Herman Sock.