 7/3/08: Brother Curtis Joyner
“I Am A Real American” (c. 1970)
That’s not a picture of Brother Curtis Joyner above. It’s Rodd Keith—who, fortunately, is enough of a hero that we can farm out his amazing story. As a quick synopsis, Keith was the great lost artist who emerged once kitsch fiends began listening to old vinyl collections of song-poems. Those would be the LPs that would-be lyricists could purchase after they sent in their aspiring lyrics to one of those classified ads proclaiming, “WANTED: YOUR POEMS.”
You know the pitch from there. The marks would receive a letter detailing the “real potential” of their lyrics, and the poets would only have to send in a few hundred bucks to get their very own copy of their words set to music. Then the song would be shopped around on a cheaply-printed compilation LP that the lyricists could also purchase. Companies ran the scam right up through the ’80s, as we recall.
Anyway, plenty of recordings from this genre were later salvaged. Most of the credit goes to NRBQ drummer Tom Ardolino and musicologist Irwin Chusid. Not surprisingly, a lot of the music was pretty unspectacular. But then there was Rodd Keith, hacking away under a variety of names and coming up with some amazing (and occasionally beautiful) original music.
Rodd Keith deserves to be recognized—but let’s not forget gullible lyricists like Brother Curtis Joyner. There are a lot of crappy little newspapers whose letter sections will offer patriotic poems this Fourth of July. Those poems will be awful. Nowadays, they’re also often tinged with some aging Commie senility. Let’s still respect the grand tradition of dotty souls writing in their deepest thoughts about our country.
We won’t see many of the plentiful blogs that’ll feature similar heartfelt works. That’s why we’d like to showcase the words of Brother Joyner, who was inadvertently immortalized once his words were handed to Rodd Keith. The musician did a fine job on the tune, mixing classic spoken-word backing with some sappy-but-soulful greatness. As you can see, though, Keith had plenty of inspiration:
First of all, allow me to make myself perfectly clear
Dear Lord, help us to love each other instead of fear
I believe in the Constitution of the USA
I respect the Holy Bible, every word it says
I believe in human rights, regardless of color
And I will not allow myself to mislead others
My utmost aim in life
Is to love and respect my wife
My family, neighbors—love them all as one
For this God gave his only Son
I believe utmost in life,
Integrity
And unity
Education and equality
With divine obligation
For freedom and justice I stand
America, I am a real American
Make it your own: There are a few Rodd Keith compilations out there. “I Am A Real American” is available on the I Died Today collection, which is the best display of Keith’s many talents. (That link above is the album’s liner notes, written by Keith’s son.) As noted, the song-poem scene was full of similar patriotic moments. I Died Today includes both the irreverent “The Senators” and “General Custer’s Story Remains Legend”—which is one of the most defiant statements ever against everybody insisting that Western culture has to go.
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 It’s from the director of Very Bad Things and The Kingdom, so you’re right to be suspicious about Hancock’s bad buzz. It’s actually an interesting film with plenty of feel-good moments. Will Smith’s drunken superhero casually hands out the death penalty, and there’s one moment in sensitivity training that could’ve come right out of Robocop 2. The movie opens tomorrow. It’s not like Will Smith needs our support, but this kind of thing is still nice to know.
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 7/1/08: Frontier(s) (2007)
Let’s start with today’s spoiler situation. If you’re fond of the horror genre lovingly described as “torture porn,” then nothing we’ll say here will interfere with your enjoyment of Frontier(s). People who don’t enjoy watching gory movies will be happy with whatever we give away in this entry.
Never mind where our personal tastes lie. Frontier(s) speaks to our politics. It was a pleasant surprise, too. We can’t think of many similar French horror films.
We were also confused by a recurring mistake in the plot synopsis. We kept hearing that Frontier(s) is set in a futuristic France where a fascist regime has taken control. That’s not true. We could tell from the opening that this was modern-day France. Yes, there’s a bunch of grimy angry youth rioting on the night of an election. They’re not up against a fascist regime, though. That’s made clear early on, when one of our lead characters faces off against a police officer. The cop won’t pull his gun on the unarmed youth. This gives the activist a chance to beat the policeman unconscious.
Later on, one of the other leads will be sitting in a bed and watching the election results. He’ll be complaining about how France is always a decade behind the United States, and now his country has elected its own George Bush—clearly referring to George W. Bush.
Boy, is this guy disgusted. So is his Muslim pal. They don’t know it, but they’ve settled into the film’s plot. It’s not an original plot. These two are part of a group of young people who are staying at a hostel that will turn out to be run by a family of inbred cannibals who’ll be killing the cast off in gruesome ways.
These aren’t your typical victims, though. They’re political activists who used the riots as a chance to rob a bank. One of them—the brother of the group's sole female—was shot by a policeman. He’s dead. The rest of them are trying to drive to the border and get out of the country.
The big gag is that these disillusioned youth—so disturbed at the political trends that would elect a president like Nicolas Sarkozy—will end up being tortured by monsters fathered by a former Nazi. It seems that WWII isn’t such ancient history that you can believably have a former Nazi running around as the head of a family of psycho killers. These socially sensitive bank robbers take the porn out of torture. Or is it the other way around? Anyway, the mayhem couldn’t happen to a nicer bunch of cretins.
Frontier(s) isn’t meant to be this much fun. Writer/director Xavier Gens claims the film was inspired after a particularly creepy French candidate made a strong showing back in 2002. We can relate to Gens’ concerns. We’ve met the types who support Ron Paul. It’s just that the rise of Sarkozy helped to clarify the film’s message. Some of the opening riot footage is even pulled from the aftermath of the 2007 election.
As a result, Frontier(s) offers a fine conservative vision. You thieving kids are worried about getting your own President Bush? You heard he’s just like Hitler? We’d personally recommend this hostel to them with a clear conscience.
The heroine seems to have learned a lesson by the end of the film—and her dying brother has already talked her out of the abortion she planned to have, although we’re not sure that was doing anybody a favor. But there’s an even more obvious endorsement of Frontier(s) as right-wing trash. Some angry Leftists have already complained that Gens is a closet fascist who doesn’t understand political complexities. It’s like he doesn’t know the Nazis are already running his country.
Make it your own: Frontier(s) is part of the “After Dark Horror Fest” series. That’s why a lot of horror fans haven’t bothered watching the film. It’s the first decent production to be released under the banner—and was violent enough to never be part of an actual After Dark Horror Festival. Anyway, that explains the minimal DVD release. There’s no director’s commentary, and that’s a shame. It’d be interesting to hear what Gens has to say about the film now.
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 6/26/08: Electra Glide In Blue (1973)
We’ll be reviewing Chicago’s great lost Stone of Sisyphus album somewhere else—but it’s kind of neat that Chicago made an album in the ’90s that their label considered too weird to be released. The pop act had pretty much lost their early reputation as innovators during the ballad-heavy ’80s. And while Stone of Sisyphus is interesting, it doesn’t replace Electra Glide In Blue as the coolest project in Chicago’s long history.
Actually, this cult film—which isn’t nearly as cultish as it once was—is really a triumph for Chicago’s manager. James William Guercio was a veteran music figure, but a novice filmmaker when he signed on to produce, direct, and even compose the movie’s original score. His favorite band’s involvement mostly consists of members showing up as assorted unsavory characters.
Electra Glide In Blue covers a lot of complicated ground, so let’s go ahead and establish some conservative credentials. It was roundly condemned as a fascist statement after playing the Cannes Film Festival. Right away, you know Guercio was on to something right.
Electra Glide quickly establishes itself as a bizarre Hollywood production. Robert Blake stars as Arizona motorcycle cop John Wintergreen, who we first get to know at home and on the job. He’s a fitness freak who’s downing raw eggs long before Rocky made audiences wince at the idea. He’s got a healthy sex life, too. Wintergreen has a good sense of humor, but he’s a true straight arrow. He politely and good-naturedly hands out tickets to a mod L.A. police detective and a fellow Vietnam vet. His career advice to the vet: “Don’t go asking for favors.”
Filmgoers must’ve been puzzled by all this. They were watching a movie where the protagonist would’ve usually been the comic-relief bad guy with a Napoleon complex. (“You’re a joke, fella,” says the outraged L.A. detective.)
The audience probably never caught on to the first clue as to what’s going on. Wintergreen starts his day with his fellow motorcycle cops, as their superior greets them with, “Good morning, you fascists”—and then adds all the other popular slurs of the day. Wintergreen is in a movie where the ’60s are over. The revolution has happened, and he’s living with the consequences. That includes daily training in community relations and learning how to take abuse.
Wintergreen still has ambitions. He wants to transfer into Homicide, and gets his big break when an old man is found dead in a trailer out in the desert. Wintergreen impresses Detective Harve Poole by rightly insisting that the supposed suicide was staged.
That’s enough of the plot. The real story is Wintergreen’s tale of existential angst. (There’s a term we don’t use lightly.) The poor guy is caught between changing times. There are a lot of bikers and hippies and drug dealers going through Arizona, and Wintergreen’s not the type to shake them down based on their looks. He can’t even get a bunch of freaks on a farm to help him track down a suspect in the murder case. Instead, Poole has to step in—but only after seeing Wintergreen’s soiled boots, and noting that his protégé “has stepped in a little community relations.”
Poole gets all Dirty Harve on the hippies, and wins the kind of cooperation Wintergreen can’t manage. We’re not saying that Wintergreen should’ve started busting heads once the lead hippie introduced him to the commune as “Little Chief.” It’s just a complicated situation. That situation’s made worse by how Poole is proven right, since his character has already been established as a racist with some pretty bizarre beliefs.
But there’s no belief too bizarre on the road that hippies travel. That’s the lesson that Wintergreen has to learn before he ends up in the middle of said road. It’s a fascinating journey. Electra Glide In Blue isn’t a fascist statement. It’s actually a sad tribute to individual principles—made tragic in a time when so many principles were in plain poor taste.
Make it your own: We’re leaving out all kinds of great details about Electra Glide In Blue. That’s partly because it’s a shame to give away anything about the film. The DVD covers a lot of the story, but it’s not quite the Special Edition that fans would like.
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 6/24/08: Stir of Echoes (1999)
As we’ve noted before, it’s a good thing that we keep this site such a secret. M. Night Shyamalan might agree. A recent post pointed out the resemblance that his film has to a short story by classic horror writer Richard Matheson—whose many accomplishments include the source novel for what became The Omega Man, and later the properly-titled I Am Legend.
Then we gave things more thought. We had some idea that there was another Shyamalan/Matheson connection, but it took a while to remember Stir of Echoes.
This modest thriller came out the month after Shyamalan had his first big hit with The Sixth Sense. Critics assumed that there couldn’t be a connection. They also had a clear preference in their stories about a little kid who sees dead people. Of course, this was before anyone had any ideas about Shyamalan, or could’ve guessed that The Sixth Sense’s writer/director has a certain fondness for Matheson.
As it turns out, Stir of Echoes is adapted from a Richard Matheson novel published in 1958. It’s suddenly not so surprising that the film resembles The Sixth Sense.
It’s a little more surprising that Stir of Echoes has some real conservative content. Matheson actually wrote plenty of good conservative stories. We could kill an entire month with entries based on film adaptations of his work. The unexpected element is that Stir of Echoes—set in the present day of 1999—was written and directed by David Koepp. He’s the Hollywood screenwriter who raised some conservative ire by stating that his script for 2005’s War of the Worlds was an Iraqi War parable. The invading aliens, naturally, were American troops.
Koepp does right by Matheson here. Kevin Bacon stars as Tom Witzky, who’s a decent blue-collar worker trying to earn an honest (if vaguely dissatisfied) living in Chicago. He’s got a job with the phone company, and rents a house from another regular guy who’s trying to turn around an old neighborhood. In what’s one of the most perfect metaphors ever, Tom then has his life ruined when his New Age sister-in-law inspires him to open his mind.
The daffy Lisa—played in nicely oblivious style by Illeana Douglas—puts Tom under a hypnotic spell at a party. Tom doesn’t believe in hypnosis, but he’s a good sport and tries to play along. Lisa turns out to have her own agenda while putting Tom in a trance. As she later explains to him, she added a post-hypnotic suggestion: “After you wake up, your mind will be completely open.”
As a result, Tom is suddenly aware of a ghost haunting his house. This gives him something in common with his 6-year-old son. That’s nice. It’s also nice that Tom can now get to work trying to figure out an unsolved murder. You know what’s not so nice? His ditzy sister-in-law gets to go on with her life, without realizing how she’s endangered her sister and nephew.
That’s the whole story of 20th century enlightenment, nicely summed up in 1999. It’s left to Tom to literally do all the dirty work—and, as it turns out, he probably would’ve figured out the whole thing without the interference of the happy hippie in his life. The ghost in his house isn’t particularly bright, and the working man has to use all his natural tenacity to figure out any clues—all while dealing with plenty of cranial interference. As he eventually asks Lisa, “Did you leave anything else inside while you were kicking your clumsy-ass feet inside my brain?”
We won’t give away the ending, but Koepp resists what could’ve been an easy caricature of right-wing villains. He also wrote the screenplays for Toy Soldiers and two other films we might get around to someday, so maybe he’s not such a bad guy. Koepp’s certainly decent enough to put the Matheson name on a Matheson story.
Make it your own: The Stir of Echoes DVD can be found for really cheap. There’s a director’s commentary, but we lost interest after Koepp said that Steven Spielberg’s Duel—adapted from a Matheson story—starred Dennis Hopper.
There was a recent direct-to-video sequel called Stir of Echoes: The Homecoming. It’s about an American soldier who kills a bunch of innocent people in Iraq, and his son who commits a hate crime against a Middle Eastern youth back in the States. You know, the usual.
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 It’s June 19th, and here’s that new posting—but it's not an entry because there’s a lot of other writing to do this week. We’ll have our act together for a proper entry on Monday Tuesday. (We
can't even keep track of our new schedule. Anyway, it seems Tuesday's
entry will be referring back to this posting.)
But for now, let’s quickly discuss The Happening. We weren’t as offended as others were by M. Night Shyamalan’s eco-thriller. The ending is kind of creepy, especially with that whole notion that having babies is like attacking the planet. We were still more disgusted by the writer/director’s desperate pandering. The Happening—in which plants inspire people to commit mass suicide—is clearly Shyamalan’s bid to get back in Hollywood’s good graces with a good Leftist tale.
He might have had additional inspiration. While filmgoers were being disappointed at matinee screenings of The Happening, we were spending a Friday afternoon reading a Shock! compilation by Richard Matheson. The legendary horror writer published a few Shock! collections. We were reading a first edition from 1961. By then, Matheson was already known as a master of the chilling ending. Not necessarily twist endings—such as Shyamalan often attempts—but chilling endings.
We’re pretty sure Shyamalan also knows about Matheson’s reputation. The second story in this Shock! collection is called “Lemmings.” It’s a very short piece about two cops watching as millions of people commit suicide by walking into an ocean.
“Don’t think about it,” says one. “It’s happening. What else is there?”
The creepiest thing about “Lemmings”/The Happening, though, is what doesn’t happen in the movie. We don't recall a single scene of mass drownings. That would seem like the most logical shot to expect in the film. We’re thinking there’s a good reason that Shyamalan decided that kind of thing would be too obvious.
This isn’t meant to be some grand indictment, of course—though it wouldn’t be so bad if Matheson’s estate looked into the matter. This is really just a reminder that The Happening isn’t merely moronic. The film also suffers from laying on the Leftist moralizing. Matheson does much more with just two pages of story.
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 “You’ve turned every scientific advance into a weapon,” says Vincent Prince in Scream and Scream Again—which is also the anti-military message in The Incredible Hulk. Get past that, and the Hulk reboot is fairly great as a comic-book movie. There are certainly enough neat touches for comic fans. The biggest flaws are Liv Tyler’s gamma-irradiated lips and the casting of Ty Burrell as an effeminate Dr. Leonard Samson. Burrell was also cast as a heterosexual in 2004’s Dawn of the Dead. That was the least believable thing about that movie. Maybe he likes girls, but Burrell sure can’t convey that quality on the screen.
You can skip The Happening, though. It’s a particularly dopey eco-disaster film that plays more like a bad ’70s TV-movie.
Our vacation this weekend will be a working one, so we’re going to cover ourselves on deadlines. The next posting won’t be until Thursday, June 19th. We should be taking that day off, too, so don’t go complaining.
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 6/12/08: Scream and Scream Again (1970)
Number of people disappointed that we now only post twice a week: 0. Number of people disappointed that we made the announcement using a Scream and Scream Again graphic without writing about the movie: Well, enough of them that we’re writing about it now.
There’s a source novel, but Scream and Scream Again plays like an anthology film that pools its plots at the end. The credits set up the recurring tale of a jogger who collapses in public, and keeps waking up in a hospital with different limbs missing. We also spend time in a fascist country that boasts a major fashion influence from the Nazis. A guy named Konratz is in charge of the government’s interrogation rooms, and his methods are pretty disturbing. Fortunately, Konratz ensures his career path by continually killing his superiors with some kind of Vulcan Death Grip.
Over in London, a government figure named Fremont (Christopher Lee) is dealing with a downed spy plane whose pilot has been captured by that unnamed fascist government. The city is also troubled by a killer who rapes and brutally murders young women. The psycho’s very neat, though. The victims are completely drained of blood.
His second victim is the former secretary to researcher Dr. Browning, who’s played by Vincent Price. The studio made a big deal out of promoting this film as a teaming of Lee, Price, and Peter Cushing. Don’t get too excited about that. Cushing only makes a brief appearance as one of Konratz’s unfortunate bosses.
Most of the screen time is taken up by the police looking for the psycho killer. There’s a young coroner named Sorel along for the ride. It turns out that the murderer hangs out at London’s most swinging nightclub. The house band is the Amen Corner, who was a decent enough soul act. They get to perform a song here called “Scream and Scream Again.”
We’re getting close to the political content, and, ergo, SPOILERS. The murderer is revealed to be a handsome young lad who looks a lot like David Bowie. He’s quite mod. He also has super strength and escapes from the cops by ripping off his hand after being handcuffed to a police car. The psycho then runs over to Dr. Browning’s residence, and jumps into a vat of acid that’s kept out back.
Browning explains to the police that maybe the psycho used to date his secretary. She might have mentioned that vat of acid to him. The chief inspector finds that to be plausible, and the case is closed.
Meanwhile, Konratz has negotiated with Fremont to return the downed pilot in return for all the files and evidence on what the police had labeled as the Vampire Murders. Let’s think about that. We’ve got a fascist government taking a keen interest in a sociopathic sex fiend who’s able to thrive in the post-60s freedoms of Swinging London. Could there possibly already be a connection? Should Jonah Goldberg just go ahead and hold an official Liberal Fascism Film Festival?
Let’s look at how Dr. Browning explains things to Sorel—after the mad doctor captures the amateur sleuth snooping around his home laboratory. First, we’ll reveal that Browning is creating an army of artificial men and women. That unfortunate jogger was providing body parts; the psycho killer was one of Browning’s inventions.
We don’t know the real story behind Browning. A lot of Scream and Scream Again seems to have been edited out or never filmed. Some people think the movie’s really about aliens. What the movie is really, really about is Browning’s explanation of why it’s so important that his army of Young Mods—including a cute nurse—is set out upon the world. First, Sorel notes that Browning is living the ol’ mad scientist’s dream of playing God:
BROWNING: My dear young man, you know as well as I do that God is dying all over the world. Man invented Him, but doesn’t need Him anymore. Man is God now. As a matter of fact, he always was. Overpopulation, pollution, famine, nuclear holocaust, war—this civilization is driving us into the sea of extinction. The keynote is control.
SOREL: But that’s the province of politicians, not scientists.
BROWNING: Yes, but we’re the only ones who are trying to combat the problem now. In 20 years time, we will be in positions of power, and we will be ready to act for the good of humanity.
SOREL: “We?”
BROWNING: You didn’t think I was in it alone, did you? You think I could do all this alone?
SOREL: There are more of you?
BROWNING: Not many—but more, yes. We’re like a slowly growing organism. Now in its infancy, but gradually maturing.
SOREL: A super-race?
BROWNING: Well, yes, but not an evil super-race. Still, in the future, there won’t be any room for imperfection. In medicine, as you know it, your organ transplants are forcing a choice. I mean, who should have another heart: the mental deficient or the great philosopher? Or an artist, or some great statesman? Don’t tell me you’d choose the deficient. You see, your society is taking the first baby steps we took years ago.
SOREL: You seem to forget, doctor, you have to murder them.
BROWNING: Well, my dear young man, we are for the future.
Sorel will later discover that Browning is a robot himself. (“Composite” seems to be the politically correct term.) No wonder the doctor thinks so highly of those types. Then the film ends with a parade of more guests to Browning’s laboratory. That’s just about the only way to wrap up this rambling tale. It’s a lot of fun, though, and a perfect film for people who like to fill in their own plot holes.
Make it your own: Scream and Scream Again is available on DVD as part of the MGM Midnite Movies series, paired with The Oblong Box. You can also pick up an old VHS tape pretty cheap. There are a lot of cheap Amen Corner compilations out there, but this one has the film’s title track.
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 6/10/08: Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In (1969-1973)
We thought someone else would cover this one after Dick Martin’s recent death. Maybe some wise conservative site has; we’re as lazy about reading them as we are about writing one. Anyway, it’s time to note that Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In was more than just a parade of great gags in a liberated era. The show was also a complicated celebration of turbulent times. Vacant-eyed Goldie Hawn looked like she was straight from a San Francisco strip joint, but there was plenty of content that spoke to the Silent Majority.
Here are a few examples of Laugh-In slogans you could sport on buttons at the end of the '60s: “Ho Chi Minh is a pain in the East;” “Ban the Catapult;” Lester Maddox eats soul food;” “Adam Clayton Powell for Resident,” “Crabgrass Is A Communist Plot.” We’d proudly wear any of those buttons today.
Now let’s take a rambling look at the Emmy-winning episode of March 25th, 1968. Regular announcer Gary Owens intones that the show is being broadcast from the Rehab Room of Burbank General Hospital. The show then opens with the usual quick succession of gags, including guest Sammy Davis, Jr. shattering a glass with a high note: “Now, that’s black power.”
At one point, they cut to John Wayne intoning, “I’ve shot men for less than that.” You’d see a lot of John Wayne on Laugh-In. We once interviewed Henry Gibson, and he told a story about how certain members of the Laugh-In cast once conspired to refuse to work with Wayne at one taping. Gibson mentioned Lily Tomlin, so this had to be sometime after the second season started.
The day of that taping, Gibson arrived early to find Wayne was already on the set. Wayne was set to do a parody of one of Gibson’s poems. “Henry,” he said, “show me how you do that little sissy walk.” Gibson was instantly won over as a fan.
Back to the episode at hand: The opening gags finish, and our hosts walk out. Dan Rowan and Dick Martin were a great comedy team, and perfect archetypes for the time. Rowan played the slightly intellectual kind of smooth operator you’d find at a Connecticut cocktail party. Martin was the blathering suburban clown trying to look hip. You’d find him at the Playboy Club wondering when the orgy was going to break out.
The two banter for a while, and hot young model/actress Pamela Austin comes out. That leads to a magic-trick sketch culminating in Sammy making an Amos & Andy joke. You never hear people quoting Amos & Andy nowadays. Then it’s off to more quick gags at the weekly cocktail party. This segment includes Larry Hovis in redneck drag, saying, “I’ve got nothing against minorities—but what happens when there’s more of them than there are of us?”
There’s also this exchange between a visiting Brit and Dan Rowan:
“How do you Americans feel about Cassius Clay?”
“Well, some people say that if Mohammed won’t go to the army, let the Army go to Mohammed.”
Another joke’s about the NRA, but it’s not political. And, of course, there’s Ruth Buzzi as feminist Gladys Ormphby. She complains about guys groping her (or the lack thereof), and notes that she appeared in Beach Blanket Bingo as a wet blanket.
Then it’s time for the News of the Past, Present and Future. The first gag is a Polish joke. The second one is about a skywriter who’s arrested for spelling out some sex education. Then we get to the jokes from the past, which reference Catherine the Great, early trade routes to the East, and Field Marshall Montgomery. Nowadays, people think The Daily Show is smart just for referencing events that happened the same day.
John Wayne shows up again: “That was about as funny as an Indian raid.” That leads to a genuinely Leftist skit. Rowan announces an examination of the credibility gap, as illustrated by Sammy and Joey Bishop as White House employees rewriting a press release on an accidental attack on a Russian sub. It’s pretty funny, but the two end up revising the event to sound just like the ending of The Hunt for Red October—which was more realistic than this skit.
Then it’s a series of “Here Come The Judge” gags, which reminds us that Laugh-In was also vaudeville’s last stand. That point’s further made by a series of wholesome sight gags. The raciest thing is a series of set pieces with Pamela Austin in a bathtub. We’ll get back to those.
Regis Philbin shows up for a “Sock It To Me” gag, Sammy signs an autograph for a Klansman, and there’s more of those Laugh-In buttons—including “Stamp Out First Marriages.” That’s another one we’d proudly wear today. The one that says “Make Love, Not War” has an upside-down peace symbol.
Then we get a talent-show spoof with Arte Johnson as a Russian who escaped from behind the Iron Curtain. It seems this character was on an earlier show. Now, he proudly announces that his twin brother has also escaped from the Soviets. Out comes Sammy in an identical ill-fitting suit. They’re both doing the awkward-foreigner routine Andy Kaufman made famous—with the same ending, too. Arte and Sammy start with a stiff rendition of a Soviet folk tune, and end with a fabulously American song-and-dance routine.
Sammy does a lot of racially themed jokes (“They don’t make us sit in the back of the bus anymore—they found out most of the accidents happen in the front”). Then it's The Duke with a nursery rhyme:
Hickory dickory dock
The mouse ran up the clock
The clock struck—
Man, those unions are getting in everywhere.
The rest of the show is taken up with a look at the Olympics in Mexico City. It includes a gag about the Indian/Pakistan conflict, and a skit about the Russian female athletes turning out to be men.
Throughout the show, we’ve seen more gags with Pamela Austin in the bathtub. This next part isn’t political, but it shows how Rowan & Martin were a true class act. They actually stop the show to discuss how all those bathtub gags were ripped off from Ernie Kovacs, and what a debt they owe to the guy. There’s a long list of acts who should do the same for Rowan & Martin.
And that’s the end of the show—except, of course, for the usual Joke Wall segment. Folks pop out of psychedelic patterns and make quick gags—and, as always, Jo Anne Worley shows up to be offended at the possibility of a chicken joke. If shows like Laugh-In were allowed on the air today, they’d have bigger problems than Ms. Worley.
Make it your own: There are a few Laugh-In DVD compilations out there. They’re kind of skimpy. Sadly, there are no commercially available collections of Laugh-In outtakes. You can get a collection of Dark Shadows goofs, but not Laugh-In. Somebody should fix that. Laugh-In outtakes are brilliant. There are some on YouTube—along with regular clips from the show.
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 6/6/08: Closed—and Closed Again!
Now it’s Adam Sandler’s fault. We were hoping today’s entry would be a rave review of You Don’t Mess With the Zohan. Instead, the film's a big disappointment. We certainly liked the idea of a comedy about a former Mossad agent who becomes a hairdresser. Unfortunately, the film has a big Up With Terrorism! message. Maybe it’s more of a Palestinian-terrorists-are-people-too message, but that’s lousy enough. Especially since the real villain turns out to be an American real-estate developer.
Note to Hollywood: Most people in New York City don’t feel threatened by the types who want to build landmarks. It’s the types who want to topple the landmarks that give us the creeps.
Speaking of disappointments, let’s discuss this site. We thought about delaying this announcement until after July 4th—that being our second anniversary—but we’ve decided to go ahead with only posting entries on Tuesday and Thursday.
This would only seem to be laziness. The real problem is our impressive work ethic that won’t let us even keep a Grand Funk entry at under 450 words. With only two postings a week, we’ll feel a lot less stupid when we ramble on for over 2,000 words about some important film.
Another advantage is that nobody will even notice when we leave town for a short vacation next week. Also, the new schedule will put an end to lame Friday entries where we’re coming off a disappointing Thursday night screening. That’s a relief. Those were getting to be a problem. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we feel a need to watch Black Sunday.
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