I do hope all the vacationing errant and truant will return to the fold Come September, starring Bobby Darin and Sandra Dee. September and October are two months when we must simply be together, no matter how busy we all are (and I can tell you I shall be very very very – that is three verys – busy Come September starring Bobby Darin and Sandra Dee). Even the lurkers out there in the dark must join our merry troupe and post their thoughts on whatever topics are being discussed. And, as I’ve said many times, it doesn’t matter if you don’t contribute to the topic at hand, you can start new topics or post about anything that’s on your mind. As dear reader, William E. Lurie said yesterday, some of our most interesting discussions have not revolved around the topic of the day. In fact, I may stop having regular topics of the day, and only have them occasionally. What do we all think of that idea?

The one thing we know that will be a constant Come September starring Bobby Darin and Sandra Dee, is that we will all have to click on the fershluganah Unseemly Button below. But that’s only because we’re like Grand Hotel – people come, people go, but the Unseemly Button is always here, like a festering cold sore in the middle of winter. My goodness, what a poetic image.

- Saturday, August 31, 2002 @ 10:05 AM PST

Friday, August 30, 2002

I’m already exhausted and the party hasn’t even started. And isn’t it just too too that our big celebration falls on Labor Day weekend? Yes, Virginia, this is Labor Day weekend, a weekend in which we shall do no labor whatsoever. We shall be lazy loafers or, at the very least, lazy saddle shoes.

Last night I attended an event honoring this year’s Emmy nominees for television music, at the Academy of Television. I was taken there by our very own Adryan Russ. I don’t care much for such events but I shmoozed and said hello to some people and had a Diet Coke. I did run into two old pals of mine, though, and that was fun. First, I ran into Valeri Landesburg, an actress and director I’ve known for many years. She was actually our production mascot on my musical Stages, when she was eighteen. She just showed up at the Matrix Theater one day and attached herself to us. She was great, was at the show every night and was very helpful. She still remembers every song in the show and proved it to me by singing two of them in their entirety. Then I ran into my old pal, Geoff Levin, a very talented guitarist and composer, who used to also be married to Miss Diana Canova. He’s a very nice guy and it was fun to see him. He told me he’d once given our very own Grant Geissman guitar lessons. I had no idea. I also met the music editor of the upcoming TV version of The Music Man with Matthew Broderick. Unfortunately, she’s just starting on it and I could get no good dirt from her. I then met that lady’s talented husband, composer Mark Adler, who wrote a nice score for the movie Focus. I was also cornered for quite some time by Mr. Ford A. Thaxton, a soundtrack producer who knows me from Varese Sarabande and Bay Cities days. I will only say that he introduced himself to Adryan Russ as the most reviled man on all the Internet.

Well, these are supposed to be short notes today, so why don’t we all click on the Unseemly Button below and whilst doing so let us throw some confetti into the sky above us. And the band played on.

- Friday, August 30, 2002 @ 10:10 AM PST

Thursday, August 29, 2002

Yesterday (which, of course, is really today) I went and got that brand spanking new AT&T Wireless phone. I was able to get out of my current wireless contract without any problem and I found a new home for my former phone, which means I basically got this phone for next to nothing. I’ve already programmed several voice recognition features, and I’ve linked the phone to a wireless headset. I was very impressed with me for being able to do these things without help. Unfortunately, it takes up to forty-eight hours for the phone to activate, so I’m just waiting patiently for the thing to actually be able to make and receive calls. In the meantime, I am doing what little programming my feeble brain is able to. It’s fairly easy once you get the hang of the menu system and it’s all very well laid out in the manual. Did I mention that this phone has a camera in it, so you can take photos with your phone and then send them to people from the phone itself. Isn’t that exciting? Isn’t that just too too? And I will be able to get online from the phone and I will be able to come to this here site and post, if necessary. It also comes with a teeny-tiny keyboard, which attaches to the phone. I will give you a full report as soon as it’s up and running or, at the very least, running and up.

Well, I must stop blathering because we have a lot of questions for Mr. Guy Haines, the elusive butterfly of love. So, let’s all click on the Unseemly Button below so we can get to your excellent questions.

- Thursday, August 29, 2002 @ 12:32 AM PST

Wednesday, August 28, 2002

Well, yesterday I was at the downtown library doing a spot of research and looking through a lot of microfiche. Actually, it wasn’t microfiche at all, it was microfilm. I know this because when they brought it to me I said, “What is it, fiche?” and they said, “No, you Ukranian submarine sandwich, it’s film.” I then spent the next hour trying to figure out why they called me a Ukranian submarine sandwich. I was there for four count them four hours and by the end of it I had a headache and was nauseous. Afterwards, I returned the microfilm and thanked the person who’d given it to me and also called her a Brazilian Falafel. I then went home, but first I stopped at the DVD store to see what the new releases were. And lo and behold and also behold and lo, there was the brand spanking new box set of the third season of The Sopranos. I have never actually seen a broadcast episode of The Sopranos on HBO, but I have purchased each season as its come out, and I really like it. It’s quite addictive, in fact, and I’ve already watched the first episode. Isn’t that exciting? Isn’t that just too too? First I had to finish the truly horrid Needful Things. What a bad motion picture. Although, Max von Sydow seems to be having a high old lime as the devil. Has anyone noticed that I just wrote “high old lime” instead of “high old time”? It was a mere slip of a finger, but I like “high old lime”, don’t you? “High old time” is so overused, so from now on I shall use “high old lime”. Anyway, Max von Sydow seems to be having a high old lime in his role as the devil. It’s fun to hear him call Ed Harris “a wussy”. Not fun enough to endure the film, but when a movie is this bad, any small pleasure is appreciated. Large pleasures, sadly, were like the elusive butterfly of love. Before I put on The Sopranos, I did manage to watch Mr. Curtis Harrington’s What’s the Matter with Helen?, which has just come out on DVD (a double bill with another Harrington film, Whoever Slew Auntie Roo). It’s kind of inept, but weirdly enjoyable, especially for the performances of Debbie Reynolds and Shelly Winters. Michael MacLiammor is also in it, as a hammy acting teacher, and he is excellent and very hammy. The film has an insistent but good David Raksin score and I like the use of the song “Goody Goody”. There are also a couple of musical numbers, choreographed by Tony Charmoli.

Well, I believe it is time for all of us to click on the Unseemly Button below because we are having too much of a high old lime, in my opinion (IMO, in Internet lingo).

- Wednesday, August 28, 2002 @ 09:25 AM PST

Tuesday, August 27, 2002

Well, that was a fine example of an opening paragraph, wasn’t it? Yesterday I lunched with Dear Reader Mark Rothman and do you know what he told me? He told me he occasionally skims through some of these here notes because there’s a bit of repetition in the way I write them. He told me he occasionally skims through some of these here notes because there’s a bit of repetition in the way I write them. I don’t know what in tarnation he’s talking about. That’s called style, baby – we are stylin’ here at haineshisway.com and one must never skim over any of these here notes (or heaven forbid, skip them to get to the topic of discussion) because if you skim you are not stylin’. And we are stylin’, let me tell you that. And frankly, or even hermanly, I am jiggy with that. Oh, yes, I am jiggy with that.

Well, we have a nice surprise for you, dear readers. Yes, Virginia, we have a nice surprise for you so let’s all click on the Unseemly Button below to find out what it is. Of course, if you’re skimming the notes you might miss it.

- Tuesday, August 27, 2002 @ 09:07 AM PST

Monday, August 26, 2002

Last night I watched a DVD of a very old Jackie Chan movie called Dragon Fist. I have no idea why I even own such a movie, but I put it in and watched it because frankly, or even Rickly, I was feeling a bit pedantic and felt that a Jackie Chan movie would Kung Fu that feeling right out of me. This motion picture entitled Dragon Fist was made way back in 1979. It has a good story, although this DVD runs a brief 76 minutes and I read that the film originally ran quite a bit longer. It does seem to jump erratically from scene to scene, and there are entire plot points which go unexplained. The best thing about this film is that it has a wonderful score by Jerry Goldsmith. Now, I know you Goldsmith experts are sitting there scratching your collective and pedantic heads thinking, “Jerry Goldsmith scored a 1979 Jackie Chan movie called Dragon Fist?” Pish tosh, you are saying, and also tosh pish. Well, so much for you Goldsmith experts. Now, I will admit that Mr. Goldsmith only wrote 80% of the score and that he probably isn’t aware of what Dragon Fist is, but I can assure you that Mr. Goldsmith, although uncredited (the music is credited to Franky Chan, brother of Charlie and sister of Jackie, or Jacky as he was known in those days), his music most assuredly graces this fine motion picture. Unfortunately, it is his music for the film The Sand Pebbles. Yes, you heard it here, dear readers, they have just taken Mr. Goldsmith’s score for The Sand Pebbles and stuck in onto Dragon Fist with a Ham Fist, which is the cousin of a Ham Chunk. They’ve even used a bit of Planet of the Apes, too. The other 20% of music seems to be from some action TV series from the sixties – it sounded like Billy May or Earle Hagen. After I finished watching Dragon Fist, I started the film of Mr. Stephen King’s Needful Things. I’d missed it in theaters, and I should be missing it on DVD. It’s like a bland TV movie, and I don’t much care for the direction of Mr. Fraser Heston who, shall we say, was not to the manner born.

Has anyone noticed that I am being pedantic on a Monday morning? Perhaps if we all click on the Unseemly Button below, I shall no longer be pedantic on a Monday morning.

- Monday, August 26, 2002 @ 09:31 AM PST

Sunday, August 25, 2002

Last night I attended a Twilight Zone dinner with Miss Susan Gordon. It was a dinner for the actors who are doing the memorabilia show. I don’t care for these things, but even so there were some interesting folks there and Susan was quite popular with the Twilight Zone populace. It’s amazing the impact that that show has had on people and how timely and still with-it it is even today. We were at a table with keynote speaker, Mr. George Clayton Johnson, who was also one of the key writers of the show, along with Mr. Serling and Mr. Charles Beaumont. Also in attendance were other TZ actors, H.M. Wynant, Ruta Lee, Barry Morse, Suzanne Lloyd, Arlene Golonka, Shelly Berman, Beverly Garland, and the absolutely stunning-looking Anne Francis. There were others but their names are escaping me right now. Mr. George Clayton Johnson, the keynote speaker, got up and made a speech in which he never once mentioned keys or notes. If I had been the keynote speaker, at the very least I would have mentioned that my speech was in the key of C and would include some of the following notes: E,G,B,A and D. He did speak of the enduring impact of the show and it was quite heartfelt. Mr. Johnson, at 72, is still a hippie at heart, with his long wispy beard and very thin body. After he spoke, Shelly Berman got up and said, “Never leave a hot mic when I’m in the room” and then proceeded to bring down the house with ten minutes of impromptu material. Watching Mr. Berman strut his stuff is a lesson in how far comedy and comedians have fallen today. Mr. Berman knows timing, Mr. Berman has personality, Mr. Berman is an original. Something happened to him in the late 60s and whatever it was his career never recovered. This man was so popular in the early 60s it was unbelievable. I had all his record albums, and he even starred in a Broadway musical – A Family Affair – the first musical for which John Kander wrote the score (pre Fred Ebb – lyricists were James and William Goldman!). Anyway, a good time seemed to be had by all.

This morning I was awakened by my neighbor who was singing very loudly to his daughter. The first thing I thought was that this man should never sing. If I were his daughter I would have run from the room screaming in abject terror. As it was, I ran from the room screaming in abject terror.

Well, dear readers, why don’t we all click on the Unseemly Button below before we all run from the room screaming in abject terror.

- Sunday, August 25, 2002 @ 08:59 AM PST

Saturday, August 24, 2002

Last night I dreamed I was at Manderley.

This dream was a variation on the actor’s nightmare dream. It was a director’s nightmare dream. It was actually somewhat confusing because it kept switching locations willy-nilly and also nilly-willy. We were doing the upcoming Tourette’s Syndrome benefit in New York. At about forty-five minutes before curtain I realized I hadn’t set half the performers, hadn’t cast them. I also realized we’d never had a run-through and none of the performers who were set had been told which side of the stage they’d be entering and exiting from. That was part of it. The other part is that we were auditioning people but they were auditioning in a fully-staged benefit for us. Amongst the auditioners was Mr. Ron Jeremy, one of the ugliest sorriest-looking individuals ever put on earth. He is also quite a famous porno actor. His audition consisted of dropping his pants and chasing people around the stage, which he did to music with some nifty choreography. I kept telling everyone around me not to watch such things, that I had no intenetion of using Mr. Ron Jeremy in the show. Afterwards, he came out to the audience to sit down, and he tried to sit next to David Wechter, but David wouldn’t let him sit next to him and pointed to an empty seat several rows down, on the aisle. Then we were back at the theater, forty-five minutes before the show. I was trying to tell the stage manager I hadn’t told anyone what side they were entering from, and I asked her to tell what performers I had cast to just do the opposite from whoever was before them. Then I woke up.

Wasn’t that an exciting dream? Wasn’t that just too too? Now, I’d like to know one thing: Just what in tarnation was Mr. Ron Jeremy doing in my fershluganah dream. I have not thought about Mr. Ron Jeremy ever, nor have I even seen a reference to Mr. Ron Jeremy in many years. Well, there is no explaining the subconscious mind and if there is I don’t wish to know about it.

Last night I also went to dinner with Miss Susan Gordon and two of our high school chums who are now and have been for years married, Jane and Keith Lassner. We went to a legendary LA Mexican restaurnant called El Cholo, located on Western south of Olympic. The food was actually a bit disappointing – the last time I was there, ten years ago, it was amazing. We did have fun, though, and told all the old stories that we always tell whenever we all see each other.

Well, perhaps we should all click on the Unseemly Button below because the cleaning lady will be here soon to give me the evil eye, plus we have a brand spanking new Unseemly Trivia Contest question, too.

- Saturday, August 24, 2002 @ 09:24 AM PST

Friday, August 23, 2002

Dear reader Mr. Robert Armin has informed us that his new law firm does not allow Internet access in the office. Therefore, he will not be able to join us as regularly as he was. Well, I say phut to that law office. How dare them deny Mr. Armin or any other employee access to haineshisway.com? I’m sorry, but Hainsies/Kimlets have inalienable rights, do they not? I’m afraid we may have to boycott any place of work that does not allow access to haineshisway.com. If that doesn’t work, then we shall girlcott them. And just what do aliens have to do with our rights, or even lefts for that or any other matter?

There goes another airplane. Is this because of The Twilight Zone convention?

Last night I dreamed I was at Manderley.

All I remember of the dream is that I was trying on Speedos and it wasn’t pretty and that my friend Debby had bought her children presents they didn’t like. Also, that some kids (teens) were drinking water from the hose in front of my house in the middle of the night.

I’m continuing my Ronald Neame film festival by watching The Poseidon Adventure. I’ll have a full report on it over the weekend, but I will say that this film features one of the most obnoxious child performances I have ever seen.

Has anyone noticed how short these last few paragraphs have been? They are like Speedos, these last few paragraphs are. Now in addition to the every-ten-minute airplanes, we have loud birds cawing. Not the singing bird, mind you, but loud birds cawing and flying hither and thither, trying to be louder than the airplanes.

Well, you can blame it on the summer night, blame it on Rio, blame it on my youth, put the blame on Mame but don’t blame me. Do you know why you cannot blame me? Because I am impeccant, dear readers. Oh, yes, I am impeccant and there are no two or even three ways about it. How many of you dear readers immediately went to your dictionaries and looked up the word “impeccant”? You thought you’d catch me, didn’t you? You thought I made up that word or had used a word improperly, hadn’t you? Do you know how I found the word “impeccant”? I went to my handy-dandy dictionary and a funny thing happened on the way to looking up “inalienable” to see what aliens had to do with the price of tomatoes or squash – I found the word “impeccant” sitting there like so much fish and I was entranced by it and decided right then and there and also right there and then to work it into these here notes. So I did the old “blame” bit, just so I could use it. There really is no blame today, I just used it as an excuse to use my new word, “impeccant”. That is my inalienable right and I have exercised it. My inalienable right now is quite toned and buff with abs and buns of steel.

Well, perhaps we should all click on the Unseemly Button below. Do not blame me for this – because I am impeccant in that regard.

- Friday, August 23, 2002 @ 08:01 AM PST

Thursday, August 22, 2002

Now we’re off and running. I just needed a jump start, I just needed a kick in the pants (or pant), I just needed a prod from an electronic device, I just needed some get up and go, some verve, some pick-me-up. And now, I am speeding down the highway of these here notes, I have exceeded the speed limit of these here notes, and soon I shall be pulled over by the Note Patrol and they will slap my hand and give me a warning to slow down. What the hell am I talking about?

You’ll be happy to know that I have answered all your excellent questions and I do hope that some of the answers are interesting to you.

Last night I watched a DVD of a motion picture entitled Hopscotch, a film of Ronald Neame, starring Walter Matthau and Glenda Jackson. It is mildly entertaining, and Walter and Glenda and the rest of the players do a very nice job. The odd thing is that it’s been released by Criterion, which tends to do classic films of some sort or another. A classic Hopscotch is not. A great film Hopscotch is not. In the introduction to the film, Mr. Neame says he turned down the script four times because he didn’t think it good enough. He was right to do so, and even though he rather likes it now, it’s still a comedy thriller with not enough comedy and not enough thrills (think North by Northwest for a exemplary comedy thriller). It does have its moments, but you just never take the villain very seriously, you never take the threats to the hero seriously, and the whole thing kind of just moseys along to its conclusion. Part of the problem is the decision to score the film using Mozart music. A terrible decision, in my opinion (IMO, in Internet lingo) as it just robs the film of tension and drama and any kind of forward momentum. The times its used as source music, those are fine. A few of the supporting characters bear names like Follet and Ludlum, so you know that the writer tongue is firmly in cheek.

What am I, Ebert and Roeper all of a sudden? Shouldn’t we all just click on the Unseemly Button below so we can get on with it?

- Thursday, August 22, 2002 @ 09:44 AM PST

Wednesday, August 21, 2002

First of all, before we go any further, in fact before we go any farther – is it further or farther or both? Well, you say further and I’ll say farther and then we’ll call the whole thing off. Why we’re going to call the “whole thing” “off” is a mystery – why don’t we just call the “whole thing” the “whole thing” since that is clearly what it is. Why would we call the fershluganah “whole thing” “off”? Ah, sweet mystery of life – in any case, before we go any further/farther, we must all put on our pointy party hats, we must get out the cheese slices and ham chunks, we must dance the Hora, or at the very least the Monkey, we must have the cake and the ice cream, we must shout it to the highest hill and the lowest valley (Pomona), we must wish one of our dear readers a happy birthday. Yes, Virginia, one of our dear readers is having a birthday and we must all wish her a happy birthday right this very minute before we go any further/farther. Dear reader Megan is eighteen years of age today – on the count of three let us all say a big Happy Birthday to eighteen-year-old Megan: One, two, three: HAPPY BIRTHDAY EIGHTEEN-YEAR-OLD MEGAN!
All of us here at haineshisway.com send our good wishes for a special day.

Well, that woke me up – nothing like a little celebration to get the adrenaline going. I am going through a weird food phase right now. Nothing is really appealing to me – I eat because I must, but even thinking about foodstuffs, something I normally love to do, is an ordeal. I think I need some new types of food to eat, or something to get me out of this food rut. Being in a food rut is a pain in the butt, no food seems to make the cut, you start to feel like you’re a nut, you want to keep your mouth shut, to food you say phut, you want to go live in a hut, you don’t want to fill your gut, with what, with food, you silly King Tut. This is what happens when you get too much sleep. We call it The Further/Farther Syndrome, the first symptom of which is calling the “whole thing” “off”.

Well, why don’t we all just click on that unseemly Unseemly Button below. Let’s do that right now, before we go any further/farther.

- Wednesday, August 21, 2002 @ 10:32 AM PST

Tuesday, August 20, 2002

I appreciated all the posts of support yesterday, and of course we shall continue unabated. I do know that we are in the dog days of summer and that people are off doing things. But it’s been difficult to watch things slow like they have and I just wanted to make certain that all was well with the haineshisway.com world. We simply have too much fun here and the world needs all the fun places it can get, so damn them, damn them all to hell, we shall stay because there’s always a party going on at haineshisway.com. We shall once again be the most popular site on all the Internet because we shall climb ev’ry mountain and ford every stream. We’ll even Chevy ev’ry stream, and here at haineshisway.com you’ll never walk alone because no one is alone and one is the loneliest number and we are two for the seesaw not one, you gotta have two for the seesaw and seesaws go up, down, up down, and I believe with ev’ry drop of rain that falls a flower grows, we are a brotherhood of man, and we shall be together, wherever we go.

My, that was so inspirational I think I shall have to eat a Ritz cracker. I have now left a rather terse message on Mr. Bakalor’s cell phone, which he, of course, is not answering because he is a lazy loafer who sleeps until noon and eats figs in bed. No, not even figs… raisins… ah, liaisons. What the hell am I talking about?

I’m going to check with some folks, but I do think I shall perhaps make an announcement, an exciting announcement, by the end of the week, if it’s okay with said folks. If it’s not okay with said folks, then I shan’t make an exciting announcement by the end of the week.
Wasn’t that a totally useless paragraph? It has been pointed out to me that I have not provided the address of the book reading and signing for Saturday, so here it is: Bookfellows 238 N. Brand Blvd. Glendale CA 91203. Take the Brand exit off the 134, go south a half-mile and there you are (it’s just north of the historic Alex Theater). We’ll be there from three to five in the afternoon.

Well, perhaps it is time for all of us to click on the Unseemly Button below – hopefully there is an Unseemly Button below, but then again, if you’re reading these here notes that means that Mr. Mark Bakalor has gotten his lazy loafer butt cheeks out of his bed and fixed our problem.

- Tuesday, August 20, 2002 @ 09:21 AM PST

Monday, August 19, 2002

Last night I watched a motion picture entitled Night of the Demon on DVD. I first saw this motion picture in the seventies and really liked it then and really like it now. It was made in 1957 and released here in the USofA in 1958 under the lurid title, Curse of the Demon, and it was shorn of about 13 minutes. Well, this brand spanking new DVD has both versions of the film. Isn’t that exciting? Isn’t that just too too? Yes, Virginia, you can watch the long version or the short version or you can even watch the short version or the long version. The long version, for example, is longer than the short version and vice versa and also versa vice. I chose to watch the long version and it was longer than the short version which is the version I watched in the seventies. The seventies seemed shorter than the eighties, so there you are. It’s quite an atmospheric little film, shot in gorgeous black and white by Ted Scaife. In fact, I’d go as far as to say the photography is stunning and a lesson in how to photograph these types of film. It helps that the transfer is great. Dana Andrews stars and he’s fine. The female lead is the beautiful Peggy Cummins, who starred in one of the great film noirs of all-time, Gun Crazy. If you’ve only seen her in that, it will amaze you to see what she’s really like. This movie also has a great cast of supporting players, especially Niall MacGinnis as Dr. Karswell. It’s directed by the vastly underrated Jacques Tourneur, who did The Cat People for Val Lewton. There’s no gore (although much to Mr. Tourneur’s chagrin, the studio did insert a literal demon into the film – it’s a pretty good one, though). This film has one moment that never fails to make me jump out of my seat – even though I know it’s coming. And the joke is nothing happens – a hand enters a shot, but it’s so unexpected and the music stings it so well, that I just get taken every time. I prefer this longer version – the cuts seem to be little bits from here and there, and then one major three or four minute sequence is gone in its entirety (and it’s not really needed, save for the atmosphere and some information that gets skipped over without it). In any case, if you like atmospheric chillers, you should check it out.

What am I, Ebert and Roeper all of a sudden? Should I do two versions of these here notes? The long version and the short version? Maybe the long version could be for overseas and the short version for the USofA. Maybe not.

If you missed the weekend notes, do check them out – there are many various and sundried facts imparted which you will be without should you not check them out. You must never be without your various and sundried imparted facts or otherwise you will not be one of the with it, one of the coolest, one of the greatest, one of the ginchiest, one of the in crowd, one of the grooviest; in other words, you will not be the bomb. I’m jiggy with that if you are.

Well, perhaps we should all click on the Unseemly Button below, whilst asking this simple question: Where has Mr. Mark Bakalor disappeared to? He, the bitch-slapper of haineshisway.com has been MIA for quite some time. So have other regulars around here, but I suppose that is to be expected during the summertime, when the livin’ is easy.

- Monday, August 19, 2002 @ 09:54 AM PST

Sunday, August 18, 2002

No, I’m afraid we cannot travel to any more exotic locales because I only have a pair of fershluganah five-league boots, and everyone knows that unless you have seven-league boots you cannot travel to exotic locales. However, with my five-league boots I could travel to La Crescenta if I so chose. However, I choose to not so chose – or should it be I chose to not so choose – or should it be I chose to not so chews? I am suddenly adrift in a sea of choices, dear readers and all because I have five-league boots rather than seven-league boots.

Do you know that thus far we have only had one count them one guess to our handy-dandy trivia contest, and even that guess was missing one of the answers. Now, you trivia people must put on your thinking caps and do your research. I know there are difficult components to the question, but you wouldn’t want it too easy, would you?

Do you know that someone came to this here site and used our handy-dandy Unseemly Search box and tried to search “Jimmy Kimmel”? Damn them, damn them all to hell. Then someone else showed up, one of our regular searchers and searched for something else. I would have thought that our regular searchers were done with all this searching, but no, search they do, and that is fine because that is what our handy-dandy Unseemly Search box is for. People can search until the cows come home as far as I am concerned. In fact, I am going to search right now, because those fershluganah cows are still out. I am going to search “not for all the tea in China” and I’ll bet I get at least three hits (ALTH, in Internet lingo).

Well, why don’t we just all click on the Unseemly Button below so we can git along little doggies, or should that be little doughgies, or should that be little doughnuts? I feel these notes are becoming worthy of Mr. Eugene Ionesco.

- Sunday, August 18, 2002 @ 10:12 AM PST

Saturday, August 17, 2002

In any case, here I am at six in the morning, paying the price ($2.98) for having eaten too much spicy Chinese food.

Last night I dreamed I was at Manderley.

In my dream I was with people I don’t care for and I didn’t want to be with, yet there I was, with them nonetheless. I was also having trouble breathing through my nose. Then I was in a DVD store and I got quite upset because two box sets were coming out and each set contained thirty-four DVDs and they were quite pricey and I was not happy about it. Then the man who does my framing said he was going to bring some New York business to Los Angeles – as he told me this he was putting gray highlights in his hair with a toothbrush. Then I was in a very small automobile, sitting with one of those people I don’t care for and I was telling them I wasn’t angry. I don’t know if that was in reference to the fact that there were going to be thirty-four DVDs in these box sets. Then I woke up.

Wasn’t that a marvelous dream? It is the kind of dream one has when one eats too much spicky/spicy Chinese food. Would it interest you to know that it has taken me exactly fourteen minutes to write the above? Certainly it doesn’t interest me, but I thought it might interest you.

I am looking out the window and dawn is breaking. Every morning dawn breaks – that is a lot of breakage, in my opinion (IMO, in Internet lingo). Every morning we have to bandage up poor dawn and then the next day it just breaks all over again. That is just foolhardy behavior but who am I to say nay? If dawn wants to break then I will not stand in dawn’s way. What the hell am I talking about? You would think I ate too much spicky/spicy Chinese food last nigh. Did you notice I just wrote “nigh” instead of “night”? My eyes are like two little slits and it is very hard for me to see the keyboard and to even think about what I’m typing.

Well, perhaps if we all click on the Unseemly Button below, I’ll be a little more alert in the next section. Let us try and see, shall we?

- Saturday, August 17, 2002 @ 06:56 AM PST

Friday, August 16, 2002

Hairspray, with our very own Kerry Butler, has opened to rave reviews and should be playing until the cows come home. I shall be seeing it, hopefully sometime in October. Congratulations to the entire cast and creative team.

Last night I went to the Director’s Guild of America for a screening of Michael Apted’s 21 and 28 UP documentaries. I’ve not seen any of these before, and I missed the first two in the series, which were shown the other night, with Mr. Apted in attendance. For those who don’t know what the hell I’m talking about, Mr. Apted has been filming the same people since they were seven years of age – he does a new one of these every seven years. Luckily, even though I missed 7 and 14, they recap them very nicely throughout each of the ensuing chapters. It is fascinating, funny, touching, and in some cases brutal to watch these kids growing up. They are from various classes of society, and it’s a real microcosm of attitudes and personalities, all English, of course. I really want to go back tonight to see 35 and 42, but I’d already made plans. Hopefully, this entire series will find its way to DVD very soon.

What am I, Ebert and Roeper all of a sudden? Have I mentioned that it is important not to abbreviate the family unit?

Today I will be doing a Very Important Thing that will finally put closure to something I’ve wanted closed, and that is a good thing, dear readers. And then tonight I will be supping with Miss Cissy Wechter, eating delicious Orange Chicken at Yang Chow in Woodland Hills, and discussing our upcoming New York version of the Tourette’s Syndrome benefit. I’m just starting to make lists of performers, and I’m very excited about doing this in New York.

Well, why don’t we, as a family unit, click on the Unseemly Button below whilst singing a chorus of We Are Family or even better, Together, Wherever We Go.

- Friday, August 16, 2002 @ 08:53 AM PST

Thursday, August 15, 2002

I heard from two of our favorite people yesterday. First, I got a call from Mr. Tony Walton, who told me he had a bad feeling my book wasn’t going to end as he wished it would. I thought that was very sweet, but I would not give him any hints or clues as to how it does end. Then I got an e-mail from Mr. Rupert Holmes, who apologized profusely for not doing his Unseemly Interview yet. He does have a slight excuse, so I forgave him. It seems he has a show opening on Broadway in September (Say Goodnight, Gracie), a new musical in tryouts (Marty), a novel coming out, and a stage adaptation of Remember WENN. He did assure me that we will do our Unseemly Interview very soon. In the meantime, I have not heard hide nor hair from Mr. Craig Brockman, so I’m beginning to doubt whether the John Treacy Egan interview will go up tomorrow as planned – it may have to go up on Monday instead.

I vaguely remembered we talked about singer/songwriter Mason Williams in these here notes a few weeks ago – I managed to pick up a copy of the CD of The Mason Williams Phonograph Record yesterday. I haven’t heard that album for over twenty years, and I’m happy to report it is as delightful as ever. Today, it is inconceivable that artists like Mason Williams, Van Dyke Parks, Rupert Holmes or even Randy Newman would be allowed to make the daring and inventive kinds of albums they made back then, especially for a major label. What a wonderful time for music it was back then. In any case, The Mason Williams Phonograph Record is very quirky, but has some beautiful songs, some funny songs, some throwaway songs, a classic (Classical Gas), and a spectacularly gorgeous piece of instrumental music called Sunflower. If you’ve ever seen the film version of Sweet Charity your mouth will drop to the floor when you hear Sunflower. Do remember that Sunflower was written first. I don’t know if Mr. Coleman heard Sunflower and liked the feel of it, or if Mr. Fosse heard it and liked the feel of it, but if you watch the ending of the film, where Miss Shirley MacLaine wakes up on the bench in Central Park with some hippies (including Bud Cort) are saying “peace” and “love” to her, you will know exactly what I mean. In any case, if you’ve never heard this album, I recommend it highly.

Well, I have been slaving over a hot laptop answering all your excellent questions, so perhaps we’d all better click on the Unseemly Button below so we can, at long last, get to them.

- Thursday, August 15, 2002 @ 09:53 AM PST

Wednesday, August 14, 2002

As to the other interesting things, they are exciting and fun and I will tell you about them just as soon as I possibly can.

Last night I finished watching the Wolfen DVD. It gets quite strange at the end, but it’s very stylishly done (and very gruesome at times, so don’t say you weren’t warned) and Albert Finney and Diane Venora are very good, as is Edward James Olmos and Gregory Hines. The DVD looks great, too.

We’ve received another excellent Nudie Musical review, this time in the DVD Newsletter, a small magazine that’s usually sold at any store that sells DVDs (for example, Tower carries it). And if you haven’t picked up the latest issue of Scarlet Street, you should – it’s not only a great issue but I was very pleased with the interview with my very own self and our very own td’s review of the film. But Scarlet Street has many pleasures and is very addictive, and its publisher, Richard Valley, loves Broadway and musicals, and is a true genre fan. It’s available at most newsstands and stores, but if you can’t find it, just use the link I provided and you can purchase it online.

Well, today is Ask BK Day, the day you get to ask your excellent questions. Remember, you have to post them by nine o’clock tonight (California time), or I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to include the answer (although I’ll try).

Speaking of trying, try as we did, we are not going to be able to get the Buddy Bregman interview up for this Friday (it is really long and it’s taking a long time to organize), but we will get up our brand spanking interview with Mr. John Treacy Egan, who is currently wowing them on Broadway as Franz, in The Producers. It’s a wonderful interview, full of good and interesting stories about The Producers and Jekyll and Hyde and Mr. Wildhorn, and Mr. Hasselhoff, and Mr. Brooks, and all manner of things. So, be sure to check it out, starting on Friday (that is if the errant and truant Mr. Craig Brockman gets off his butt cheeks and puts it up on time – I know Mr. Craig Brockman has a very busy week this week, but after all this is haineshisway.com and we must be current and hip and with it and happening).

Well, why don’t we all click on the Unseemly Button below because, frankly I have nothing more to say in this section. I am written out in this section. This section is over with, done, finished, finito, fine – adios section, adieu section, shalom section, this section is kaput for today.

- Wednesday, August 14, 2002 @ 10:05 AM PST

Tuesday, August 13, 2002

Last night, I started watching a motion picture entitled Wolfen on a brand spanking new DVD. I have never seen the motion picture entitled Wolfen, but I’d heard it was interesting and pretty good, and it fits right in with the rest of my bug and animal movies that I’ve been watching lately. And so far, aside from the fact that it’s a bit gruesome, it’s very well done and I must say that I do love Albert Finney as an actor. I’ll have a full report after I finish watching. I do find it interesting that the director of this film had previously only made the film Woodstock, and that after this film he pretty much disappeared off the face of this earth (I believe Wolfen did okay at the box-office, and I do remember it getting decent reviews, so it’s not like it was a disaster or anything). Does anyone know what happened to Michael Wadleigh?

I hope all of you are getting your excellent questions ready, because tomorrow is Ask BK Day, the day in which you get to ask me any questions you like. I’m not certain how many more Ask BK Days we’ll have, so do ask any questions you haven’t asked but have been meaning to. Unless you all really feel that Ask BK Day is one of your favorites, in which case I’ll keep it going until one of you commits Hari-Kari or, at the very least, commits Harry Carey. And we are going to have an Ask Guy Haines Day very very soon.

Because of the notes the other day, I went out and bought The Ultimate Manilow CD. I’ve been listening to it in the car, and I must say I do still like a lot of these songs very much. It’s very interesting to listen to the progression, and hear how “overproduced” some of the later stuff is, and then how he gets back to a slightly simpler and cleaner sound. It’s also interesting to note how ragged his voice is occasionally and how that actually works for him. It’s a good collection, twenty songs in all, but it’s only the biggest hits. Funnily, I had no Barry CDs in my closet (yes, Virginia, all my CDs are kept in a large closet in my book room – and I must tell you it is fairly bursting at the seams and it is quite unseemly-looking in there right now).

Well, I have an idea. What do you say we all click on the Unseemly Button below to see what’s going on in the next section? There might be something very very very (that is three verys) important going on in the next section and I, for one, am incredibly curious as to what it might be. And don’t forget, curiousity killed the cat. The poor cat is now dead as a doornail and all because curiousity killed it. I knew that curiousity didn’t really care for cats all that much, and curiousity really didn’t care for Cats all that much, but I had no idea curiousity was a cold-blooded murderer of cats. What the hell am I talking about? And one other thing – are there any alive doornails?

- Tuesday, August 13, 2002 @ 09:51 AM PST

Monday, August 12, 2002

My goodness, these notes are just zipping along aren’t they? I’m breathless just thinking about it.

Last night I watched the motion picture entitled Them! First we had killer bees in The Swarm, then I watched locusts in The Exorcist II: The Heretic, and last night we had the giant ants running amok. The difference is that Them! is a classic, and a beautifully made sci-fi film. The DVD is spectacular-looking and it even includes the red-lettered main title (the film is in black-and-white). You simply must have all three movies so you can have one giant insect marathon.

It’s a good think I am writing zippy notes today because I don’t have anything to write about. I exhausted myself on the weekend. I used up all my current stories. And now, all I can do is write zippy notes because of silly computer issues. These silly computer issues get me agitated and put me in a foul mood. Perhaps I’ll eat some chicken later so that I can also be in a fowl mood. Zip, zip, zip. Why, I feel twitchy and bitchy and manic. But alive, but alive, but alive. Hold your applause, dear readers.

Well, perhaps we should all click on the Unseemly Button below because we must keep zipping because it is unseemly to be unzipped

- Monday, August 12, 2002 @ 10:01 AM PST

Sunday, August 11, 2002

Last night I attended a birthday party in honor of my next door neighbor’s wife. I went because sometimes it is nice to be neighborly. It was a small birthday party as these things go – maybe twenty people, mostly relatives it appeared to me. Of course, I was the only person there who knew no one. I was introduced as the man who lived over there. I rather liked that, it sounded like I was an Alfred Hitchcock movie. I don’t think I actually told anyone my name – I kept saying, “Hello, I’m The Man Who Lives Over There.” Now, I know I’m in trouble at a party when there is no Diet Coke. I know I have absolutely nothing in common with anyone who doesn’t have Diet Coke. I had to settle for some kind of diet lemon-lime thing. Can you imagine? Now, I know I’m in double-trouble at a party when there are no cheese slices or ham chunks and triple-trouble when no one is wearing a pointy party hat and people are not wearing colored tights and pantaloons. These people were wearing dresses and shirts and slacks and shorts. And then there was the food. People were eating the food and had pleasant expressions on their faces, so I’m assuming it was tasty. I had no food whatsoever because it all looked weird to me. It was weird food, dear readers. For example, they had something that was trying to look like pizza – focaccia, and this focaccia had lemon slices on top of it. And people were eating it. I would not eat anything that had lemon slices on top of it – and I’m not talking about one lemon slice, there were scads of lemon slices. Then there was hummus. I will not eat a food called hummus. I tasted it once and it tasted like a mealy paste and I simply will not tolerate a mealy paste, especially a mealy paste called hummus. Who came up with such a name? Mr. Hummus? Mrs. Hummus? Then there were the roasted red peppers with anchovies. Need I go on? I chatted with a few people and then left. I went and got three slices of pizza (without lemon slices) and then watched a motion picture on DVD.

I must say, we know how to throw a party here at haineshisway.com, dear readers. I mean, they didn’t even dance the Hora, or even the Mashed Potato.

In any case, why don’t we all click on the Unseemly Button so I can stop teasing you? While clicking, try to paint a mental picture of those red peppers with anchovies.

- Sunday, August 11, 2002 @ 09:55 AM PST

Saturday, August 10, 2002

Last night I attended a birthday dinner for my friend Barbara Wechter, who is married to my friend David Wechter, who is the son of my friend Cissy Wechter, who is the mother of my friend Jerry Wechter. It was quite fun, and we ate lots and lots of barbecued foodstuffs, such as ribs, tri-tip, chicken, salad, beans, and potatoes. Then we had ice cream cake for dessert. Tonight I shall be attending another birthday celebration, this one for my next door neighbor’s wife. I don’t really know them all that well, but I thought it’s a nice neighborly gesture to go, and besides, if I get bored I can leave and be home in four seconds.

I must hurry along because soon the cleaning lady will be here to cast her evil eye on me, should I have the temerity to overstay my welcome. She will then clean my house, and then she will go to my friend Grant Geissman’s house, because she’s going to start working there, too, based on my recommendation. Isn’t that exciting? Isn’t that just too too?

Have I told you about The Mystery of The Garage Door? Yesterday, when I left the house in the morning, I went outside, opened the side door to the garage and went to press the button to open the garage door. That is when I noticed that the garage door was open (eerie music begins). Yes, Virginia, the garage door was wide open. I immediately looked around and nothing seemed to be missing. Now, the thing is, I am quite senile, and I have taken to checking to make certain that I have indeed closed the garage door at night. I actually go out there at midnight and look, every night. And it was most certainly closed the night before. So, how did it get open if it was closed? My theories are: Mice. Someone has a garage-door opener on a similar frequency as mine. Elijah stopped by and since there was no matzoh or bitter herbs he opened the garage door to show his displeasure. Someone was messing with my mind. Aren’t those fine theories? If you have any others, please post them today. I double and triple checked, and nothing was missing at all.

Well, I have sheets to buy, so why don’t we all click on the Unseemly Button below so I can finish these here fershluganah notes and be off to sheetland.

- Saturday, August 10, 2002 @ 08:45 AM PST

Friday, August 9, 2002

Last night I watched the brand spanking new DVD of the motion picture entitled The Swarm, un film de Irwin Allen, with an all-star cast of players. According to one or maybe two of our dear readers, the original theatrical version of The Swarm ran something like 116 minutes (I missed it in the theaters). This special cut of the film runs 155 minutes and was, I think, used for television. They should unuse it immediately. What a truly bad motion picture The Swarm is. It is a motion picture about killer African bees – not, as the end credits tell us, the wonderful American bee, which provides honey and pollination for all. These African bees have shown up here in the USofA for reasons only known to the screenwriter. But they are here, billions of them, Swarming around and causing havoc and death where ever the go. These are mean bees, these African killer bees. There is no antidote to their poisonous venom. As a matter of fact there is no antidote to watching this movie either. It just goes on and on, like yesterday’s notes. And when someone is stung, while they’re recovering (some recover, most don’t) they see a vision of a huge African killer bee. They see it until Dr. Michael Caine tells them it’s not really there – then the vision goes away. The dialogue in this film is amazing and should be studied by all aspiring screenwriters. All I can say is, these poor actors. Dr. Michael Caine either looks like he’d rather be anywhere else on earth, or he yells loudly. Richard Widmark, who is rarely bad, has the worst of the dialogue. Fred MacMurray and Ben Johnson play the two men who want to marry Olivia de Havilland, in a totally useless subplot. I don’t mean they want to marry her in a totally useless subplot, they want to marry her in a church, but that whole business goes nowhere and means nothing to the film at hand. Richard Chamberlin shows up and says some lines. Jose Ferrer has one scene – hilariously awful – he runs a nuclear power plant. Kathryn Ross plays a military doctor with quiet ineptitude. And then there’s Henry Fonda as Dr. Krim. Somehow, Mr. Fonda escapes unscathed. He’s confined to a wheelchair in this film and he doesn’t have much to do, but even with all the risible dialogue and awfulness going on around him, he somehow manages to invest any scene he’s in with dignity and reality. The scene where he injects himself with his antidote, only to find out it doesn’t work, is really good, solely to his playing of it. Mr. Irwin Allen’s direction gives lethargy a new meaning. Most of this thing was shot on the back lot at Warners on their small town street and I kept waiting for Harold Hill to show up. It does a feature a non-stop Jerry Goldsmith score, from the days when he was still doing excellent work. By the way (BTW, in Internet lingo), the idea they finally come up with to stop the unstoppable killer bees is remarkably similar to the one they come up with in Mr. Bert I. Gordon's far superior Beginning of the End, the movie about giant grasshoppers run amok. In any case, The Swarm DVD is a must have and you must purchase it right now.

What am I, Ebert and Roeper all of a sudden? Let us all, in the interest of short notes, click on the Unseemly Button below so we can move on. Of course, maybe “on” doesn’t want to be moved, did we ever think of that? Well, let’s click anyway, because I see a huge African killer be sitting on my keyboard.

- Friday, August 9, 2002 @ 09:48 AM PST

Thursday, August 8, 2002

In any case, I have made it a rule of thumb (I've also made it a rule of ear and a rule of elbow) to never open an attachment from anyone ever, even if it’s from a name I recognize, unless a) I have been told it’s coming and what it is or, b) I confirm via e-mail that they’ve sent it and what it is. I must tell you that if it’s b, never once have I even gotten a response (if I e-mail the person asking them what the attachment is). I recommend all of you do the same. I say this because one of our dear readers got one of these disgusting things and because it was from here tried to open it. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – what thrill do these stupid idiots get from causing this trouble? Do they covertly walk around thinking, “Ooh, today I really got thousands of people by sending out viruses that will screw up their computers.” I mean, what kind of psycho losers are these people. They’ve been doing this for years, these virus people, but they’re getting worse and worse and more sophisticated at hacking innocent people’s addresses. Just know that you should always check the headers when getting it, find the root if you can and then send something to abuse at that domain.

I shall now get off my box of soap and back to today’s regularly scheduled notes, which are of the long and winding notes variety, or perhaps even the long and winding notes Hollywood Reporter.

Last night I watched a DVD, which I just got an advance copy of. It contained a made-for-television motion picture entitled Copacabana, starring Mr. Barry Manilow and my pal, Annette O’Toole. I’d somehow missed this when it was originally shown in 1985, and I’ve somehow continued to miss it over the years. I do know there was a stage version done, and I myself recorded two songs from it for my Prime Time Musicals album, Who Needs to Dream (sung by Christiane Noll) and Man Wanted (sung by Jolie Jenkins). Well, may I just say first and foremost, I like Barry Manilow, and I’ve always liked Barry Manilow and if that makes me an old poop then I’m afraid I’m an old poop. In fact, I like him so much that I once did a rather wicked spoof of him for a cable comedy show called Likely Stories, which is wicked and affectionate at the same time. So, I was predisposed to enjoy Copacabana. Unfortunately, all the predisposition in the world could not have prepared me for what I witnessed. May we just say that while Mr. Barry Manilow is charming and fun, he is not an actor, although he tries mightily to be one which, of course, is part of the problem. He is simply goony in this telefilm, some of which is fine and lots of which is not. The script, by that master of ooze, Mr. James Lipton (he of Inside the Actor’s Studio) is filled with one risible scene after another – all unintentionally hilarious (I actually fell off my couch howling at one point because I could not believe I was hearing and seeing what I was hearing and seeing). It’s one gigantic cliché, all “adapted” from the song and lyrics of Barry’s hit, Copacabana. Joseph Bologna, as Rico Castelli, is so horrid it’s unbelievable. I’ve never seen him give less than an okay performance, but this one belongs in the cliché pantheon. It’s mostly a period piece which seems to be set in the early forties – and yet Barry lets loose with one of his big power ballads in the streets of New York (all on a backlot) and it’s so out of place and so shoehorned in, it’s just impossible not to laugh (especially given its inept direction and staging). My pal Annette O’Toole is a marvel, however, as she always is, plus she gets to sing, and she’s the saving grace of this sorry enterprise. One of my favorite things was the location of where she works, at The Glass Slipper Dance Hall at 43rd and Broadway. When you see the backlot street and set, you will know how truly ludicrous this whole thing is. The supporting roles are not especially well-cast, which is also problematic. I kept thinking, maybe it’s camp, but it’s not, it’s just bad. They’re really trying to be serious and give it depth but they do it in all the wrong ways. And then there’s the infamous La Bravo number, which Bologna is going to resurrect at his famous Havana nightclub, starring his new obsession, Lola. He describes this number as the most famous nightclub number in history. Well, it’s so mind-bogglingly awful in every way, it’s amazing. It could not be more mind-bogglingly awful. The minute you see the “boys” dressed as pirates, with their dance belts run amok, you know what land you are in and it’s not Kansas. The excellent Grover Dale provided the not excellent choreography. From that point on, it just gets sillier and sillier as Barry “rescues” Lola from Havana, in one ineptly filmed scene after another. Along the way, we do get to see Barry perform several numbers (I do like the totally wrong for the period, Sweet Heaven, which he does in white tie and tails as a Copa headliner), although the music production, despite its pedigreed people, sounds surprisingly cheap. Barry’s hair also gets larger and larger as the show goes on – it’s positively huge by the end. It’s a must-have DVD – I think it comes out relatively soon and you simply must have it whether you own a DVD player or not.

What am I, Ebert and Roeper all of a sudden? I should see if Mr. Mark Bakalor, the most errant and truant human being on the face of the planet, can put up a video or sound clip from my Barry spoof, entitled Barry in Concert. I play Barry (in white tie and tails, big shoes, and big hair), singing his greatest hits, including this one:

His name was Marvin,
He was a show girl
Yes, he wore panties and wore hose
Couldn’t get enough of those
And he was cute as hell
And that is why I fell

At the Ramrod
Down there on Highland
It was an island full of sleaze
Everybody on their knees.
At the Ramrod,
Down there on Highland
Tight jeans and tight buns
You might find the right buns
At the Ramrod!
You get it all…

Well, these really are getting to be the long and winding notes, aren’t they? And we haven’t even gotten to the answers to your excellent questions yet. So, let’s all click on the Unseemly Button below whilst singing, “Her name was Lola, she was a showgirl.”

- Thursday, August 8, 2002 @ 08:50 AM PST

Wednesday, August 7, 2002

Last night I finally got around to watching a DVD, the newly released (as of yesterday) Time after Time, starring Malcolm McDowell, Mary Steenburgen and David Warner. Twenty years later it’s still a tremendously entertaining film with wonderful performances and some deft writing from writer/director Nicholas Meyer. The plot has a marvelous hook and there’s a lot of humor, too. Warner is brilliant, one of his best performances, and Malcolm and Mary are lovable. The writing really lets them down (M&M) in the last third – there are several terrible plot contrivances towards the end – someone should have spoken up loudly and made them fix them. I remember thinking it back then and I thought it even more now. The film still works despite them, however and it’s so much fun that you tend to forgive it. The DVD looks good – the transfer is very accurate to the way it looked on its release. In other words, this was a fairly low-budget film and this is what it’s always looked like. The sound is not so lucky – my memory of back then is that it was mono – here it’s 2.0 and sounds muffled and not well-mixed. The film has an absolutely wonderful Miklos Rozsa score and it’s still from a day when they weren’t doing wall-to-wall music in films, so the cues actually have power and drama in the film. If you love time-travel books and films as I do, I recommend this.

What am I, Ebert and Roeper all of a sudden? I also briefly checked out the transfers on several other Warner titles. Them! looks fantastic and includes the colored lettering in the titles (the film is in black-and-white, but the word “Them!” in the titles is in red – very striking). The Swarm looks okay – I was a bit shocked to see that it runs an astonishing 155 minutes – I’ve never seen it, so I’ll watch it and have a full report for you. I do remember shooting something on the Warners lot when this film was in production, and I have a vivid memory of walking to the sound stage and seeing Miss Olivia de Havilland, who waved as I walked past her. Clash of the Titans looks fine, very grainy as its always been because it was not an expensive film and is loaded with opticals.

Has anyone noticed that these here notes are whizzing along? Frankly, or even Stevely, I have never seen such whizzing, notes-wise.

I had some lovely meetings yesterday and I am chomping at the bit to tell you about them, but I never talk of things until they are signed, sealed and delivered. But there are some exciting things in the works and if they all come to fruition it will be great. Why is “fruition” pronounced “frewishun” when “fruit” is pronounced “frewt”? Someone messed up and I think they should be flogged, don’t you? Flogged like Judge Turpin, is what I say.

Well, perhaps we should all click on the Unseemly Button below because we are whizzing along here and we don’t want to slow the pace down one single bit, do we?

- Wednesday, August 7, 2002 @ 10:14 AM PST

Tuesday, August 6, 2002

My sleep is alive
With the sound of mowing…

Last night I dreamed I was at Manderley.

In my dream I was at home. Living across the street from me was Warren Beatty. I was at home, trying to sleep, but he came over and tried to leave something for me by the front door. I got up to see what it was, and it was some political thing which all the neighbors were asked to sign and then pass on. Then Warren’s houseguest, actor/director Tony Bill, came over to use the phone. He used the phone for about three hours. Then all of a sudden Harold Ramis came over. We were all sitting in the living room chatting about something or other, and I was telling Warren we had mutual friends. I then said that the person I’d really like to see is Susan Dey, that I hadn’t seen her in years. I asked everyone if they’d seen her. Harold Ramis said, “Well, yes, I saw her this morning, and I saw her an hour ago.” I looked at Harold Ramis curiously and replied, “Are you two married?” He chuckled and said yes, they were. I said I’d been going to all the Partridge Family reunions in the hopes of seeing her, but all I ever saw was Danny Bonaduce. Susan then arrived and we had a grand time catching up. Then, curiously, I heard the sound of mowing and I woke up. Wasn’t that a marvelous dream? I know why one component of the dream was on my mind (this will become apparent when I reveal the answer to the trivia contest) but where this other stuff came from I have no idea (I mean, Tony Bill??? Harold Ramis???).

Last night, prior to Manderley, I played poker with seven other people. First we ate dinner at Casa Vega where, as usual, I stuffed myself to the gills, whatever the hell that means. Then we all drove to some far-off land west of the Pecos and east of the sun. All I know is there were streets with names like Prairie Rd. and Cactus Ln. and Stallion Street and Bell Canyon. We drove up windy roads and in certain residences along the way I saw actual horses in people’s actual yards. Poker was fun, and I was the big winner for the night, pocketing winnings of ten count them ten dollars. Our stakes were our usual – quarter, half-dollar, dollar, but there were no big losers, so that was nice. Occasionally someone can drop forty or sixty dollars at one of these games, but the luck went around the table pretty evenly, and I think the most anyone lost was seventeen count them seventeen dollars.

They are still out there, mowing merrily, just like the Stephen Sondheim song:

See the pretty grass
Glistening in the morning dew
Merrily they mow the grass
Mow the grass
It’s very loud…

Well, perhaps we should all click on the Unseemly Button below whilst singing the great Schmidt and Jones song, Soon They’re Gonna Mow:

Soon they’re gonna mow
And I’ll hear it,
Soon they’re gonna mow
Really loud…

- Tuesday, August 6, 2002 @ 08:57 AM PST

Monday, August 5, 2002

Do you know what else is interesting? As I sit here and type away I think back ten years ago, and it is astonishing to me that back then it would have been inconceivable that I would be sitting here like so much fish, typing a daily blog or log or journal or diary, and typing said blog or log or journal or diary on a laptop computer. Ten years ago, I could barely turn on a computer. Oh, I caressed a computer, I fondled a computer, I cavorted with a computer, I laid some heavy hugs on a computer but it was all for naught because I simply could not turn it on. And I was cute as a button back then. Are buttons really all that cute? The saying is “cute as a button” but I just went and looked at a fershluganah button and not only is it not cute it is actually quite stupid-looking. In any case, there I was, ten years ago, and how could I have imagined that here I’d sit, typing merrily away in a Word document, which I would then insert into an Internet form that would then post to a website designed by Mr. Mark Bakalor? And can you even remember what computers looked like back then? And how the Internet was a thing not known by one and all and also all and one? Isn’t that interesting? Isn’t that just too too?

I remember the time I wrote my first script via computer – it was so complicated, with macros for this and macros for that – I had three pages of notes pinned nearby that told me how to do everything – to type, to save, to format, etc. Now, it’s just so easy, everything has been made so that even fools such as I can do them. Oh, there are still things that baffle me, but I can tell you here and now and also now and here, that I never thought I’d see a day where I could zoom around the Internet, post on newsgroups, read and write e-mail, IM people, write a novel on a computer, and meet so many lovely new people. Isn’t that interesting? Isn’t that just too too?

I never thought I would see the day when I would say “let’s all click on the Unseemly Button below” once a day, like a Once-a-Day Multiple Vitamin. And yet, I’ve been saying it for over 250 days in a row. In fact, I’m going to say it again right here and now and also right now and here – let’s all click on the Unseemly Button below.

- Monday, August 5, 2002 @ 09:14 AM PST

Sunday, August 4, 2002

Well, other than being bleary-eyed on this fine Sunday morning, I’m actually feelin’ groovy. Yes, you heard it here, dear readers, I am feelin’ groovy, and I hope you are as well. What am I, Paul Simon all of a sudden? The whole of these here notes thus far feels Simonized to me. Next thing you know I’ll be saying, “So long, Frank Lloyd Wright” for no reason whatsoever. Oh, well maybe I should just go for a drive on a bridge over troubled water or maybe I should just go run barefoot in the park. “Barefoot in the park”? Oops, wrong Simon – that was Paul’s brother Neil. Perhaps the sound of silence would be good right about now.

Last night I watched a DVD of the musical entitled Barnum. I never saw the show on stage, and I’ve only seen this taped version once before. It’s not my favorite show or score ever written, but it is a lot of fun at times and it does move right along. This version was taped in London, and stars Michael Crawford as P.T. Barnum. I don’t really know when it became fashionable to knock Mr. Crawford, but he’s very good in this, as he is in most things I’ve seen him in (with the exception of the film of Hello, Dolly! in which he’s really awful, in my opinion (IMO, in Internet lingo). Anyway, the woman who plays his wife is adequate but not much more – I’ve never heard of her or seen her before. The sound is fairly dreadful in the dialogue sections, but the score sounds good and I must say the staging of Mr. Joe Layton is a lot of fun – he’s almost never mentioned anymore, and he was a very good director/choreographer. Mr. Coleman clearly loves doing these kinds of shows, what with this and The Will Rogers Follies. He’s got some very sprightly tunes in this, which have serviceable lyrics by Michael Stewart. The patchwork book is by Mark Bramble, who seems to specialize in patchwork books.

What am I, Ken Mandelbaum all of a sudden? Perhaps we should all click on the Unseemly Button below – do you know why I always say and do that? I do it for your love, that’s why. Click away, my pretties.

- Sunday, August 4, 2002 @ 07:55 AM PST

Saturday, August 3, 2002

It is quite early in the morning because there was a strange noise that awakened me and I could not go back to sleep. This strange noise was emanating from somewhere in the not-too-far distance, and it sounded rather like a cat with post-nasal drip to me. Whenever I hear the sound of a cat with a post-nasal drip I immediately wake up. That also happens when I hear a cat on a hot tin roof. However, I never awaken when I hear a cat with a pre-nasal drip and I most certainly never awaken when I hear a cat on a cold steel roof.

I thank all of you loyal Hainsies/Kimlets for sending me all your good vibes, and I can only say they were helpful in making two difficult days less difficult. I truly believe that it is a time to move forward, hold no enmity, and to heal. Thus I say and say no more.

In addition to the answers to your excellent questions, there are several other things we must call your attention to. However, unless you give me your attention’s phone number how can we call it? That is simply nigh unto impossible. Oh, yes, it is nigh unto impossible. First of all, I wasn’t going to have an Unseemly Trivia Contest today, because I hadn’t thought of a question, but I have since thought of a question and since you all had such luck with last week’s straight play question I thought I’d try another of those and so, by gum and by golly, I shall. Also, Mr. Donald Feltham has a brand spanking new radio show going up on Sunday, with this week’s guest, our very own dear reader, Mr. Ron Pulliam with some of his favorite showtune choices. Also, do check out the wild and wooly Alison Fraser’s interview in our The Unseemly Interview Section, which can be located by simply clicking on the Link to New Sections icon over there on the left.

So, what time is it, dear readers? No, it is not Howdy Doody time, that is not the correct answer. It is Unseemly Button time, the time when all good dear readers must click on the Unseemly Button below because it is simply the thing to do.

- Saturday, August 3, 2002 @ 06:04 AM PST

Friday, August 2, 2002

aren't

these

wonderful

notes?

Click on the Unseemly Button immediately for more of the same.

- Friday, August 2, 2002 @ 06:26 PM PST

Thursday, August 1, 2002

Yesterday, dear reader JMK pointed out that what I was calling an A major seventh chord was really an A minor/major seventh chord, and of course he was correct. That is because I’d originally put in an Ab major seventh chord (Ab, C, Eb, G) and then I decided to make it an A major seventh chord because I didn’t feel like having any unseemly flats around. So, I unflatted the Ab and Eb, and in my haste to sharp the G I forgot to sharp the C. Hence, we had a minor/major thing on our hands. I have since revised history like they do in Mr. George Orwell’s novel entitled Nineteen Eighty-Four, and made the chord a proper A major seventh chord, which is what it was meant to be in the first place. When in the key of A we must always sharp our Cs if we wish to remain major. I feel we need no minor chords in these here notes of August so we will only have sharped Cs whilst in the key of A. What do you think of that? Does anyone have a clue as to what the hell I’m talking about?

It looks like there was a very lively discussion going on, and many posts about the late Ben Bagley. I only spoke to him a couple of times late in his life, but I found him to be a delightful, if weird, man.

O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I? Why did that suddenly just come into my mind? I was sitting here minding my own business when suddenly I thought, O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I. Since I am neither a rogue or peasant slave I cannot fathom why that suddenly popped into my head like an unwanted Frisbee. Are all of our Cs sharped? Just checking – these notes have still not left the key of A, because we feel the key of A is the only appropriate key for the month of August. Perhaps for September we’ll change to the key of S.

Now, as soon as you are finished reading these here notes, you must go read our brand spanking new Unseemly Interview with Miss Alison Fraser – it is a total delight and quite sparkling. Just click on the Link to New Sections over there on the left, and then click on the Unseemly Interview Section. And if you missed Kerry Butler’s interview, there is a handy-dandy archive where you will find it.

Well, I do believe it is time to click on the Unseemly Button below whilst our Cs are still sharped.

- Thursday, August 1, 2002 @ 11:58 PM PST

Well, dear readers, welcome the first notes of August. Yes, you heard it here, dear readers, these here notes are the first notes of August. And just what are the first notes of August? Well, I’ll tell you what the first notes of August are because frankly you have a right to know. The first notes of August are A, C#, E and G#, or to put it another way, an A major seventh chord. Aren’t those lovely August notes? Aren’t they just too too? Well, it’s lovely to start a new month on a major chord isn’t it, especially one like an A chord. That is just so festive and gay, is it not? And there’s a reason for it being festive and gay, and that reason is not arbitrary in the least or even in the most. For you see we have reason to celebrate once again, dear readers, because as of two days ago we whupped June’s statistical rating to a frazzle. We razzle dazzled ‘em, dear readers, we toppled the June record and toppled it handily, despite having three count them three days where no stats were counted at all because of statistical malfunctioning. What do you think of that, dear readers? Let us give ourselves a collective pat on the back, that is what I say. And now we are on our way to topping July – we must be moving ever upward in our quest to topple all previous records.

I am actually writing these here notes just after midnight because I must leave early in the morning to deal with things that must be dealt with. The things that must be dealt with are an all day ordeal, so I won’t even be able to check back in until after six. But check back in I shall – so remember, keep it light, keep it gay whilst I am away. And don’t forget to send me lots of positive Hainsie/Kimlet good vibes all day long. I shall need them.

Your questions yesterday reached new heights of excellence, and I cannot wait to sink my teeth into them. Answers will be posted in what should be an endlessly long Saturday column, which is good in a way, since that may keep our Saturday traffic at normal viewing levels.

So, I must hurry these here notes along, because I do need my beauty rest and I must be alert and sharp and I must have my full wits about me. Since I’m in a hurry, maybe I shouldn’t hurry these notes along, maybe I should hurry these notes ashort. Well, let us not tarry and dally further, let us click on the Unseemly Button below and go on with the show.

- Thursday, August 1, 2002 @ 12:21 AM PST