First Natural Rave

Another milestone from two generations ago involves the first natural rave. Held at a farm in upstate New York, the event featured dancing but no laser light or glow sticks. The music was a hash, lacking any techno or house bands. Typical of the groups present were The Who and Jefferson Airplane, none of whom could deliver the punch and rhythmic base lines of Infected Mushrooms or Nightcore. Nevertheless, the Rave used rain and mud to play up the "naturalness" and compensate for the lack of a decent fog machine.

What was the name of this inaugural bash?

Right you are: No-Frigging-Glow-Stick-Rave.

Man of Steal

Another victory in the fight over who owns what portion of Superman's life. I believe the original creators sold him to D.C. Comics for fifteen dollars and some soup. For many years now, Warners, D.C. and the family of co-creator Jerry Siegel have tussled over sundry legal aspects. I would guess we haven't seen the end.

Famous London Photo Explained

Forty years ago this month, the first non-solid, pedestrian crosswalk appeared in London. As you can see, there are white, unconnected bars for people to cross the street on instead of a solid rectangle as was customary at the time. This was originally proposed by the London City Council as a paint-saving measure, but met tremendous opposition from safety advocates. They argued that pedestrians who stepped off a white bar onto an exposed section of street would then be jaywalking and subject to fine, or else risk being struck by a vehicle as they were no longer "safe."

Calmer minds prevailed and the non-connecting bars were painted on a single road. In swinging 1969 London, they soon became a hit and were copied by street maintenance departments worldwide.

That road is now famous. Can you guess its name?

Correct. White Bar Road.

Area 51 Marathon

Out in the Nevada desert somewhere near cryptic Area 51 sits the start-line for a midnight marathon, pitting runners against the dark, flying saucers and black helicopters. Running machine Emil gave it a go and returned unprobed with this race report.

Shadow Over Santa Susana

...is the name of a new book on the Manson family. MDW and I visited a trendy LA art gallery yesterday to hear the author speak.
Part of the attraction involved a high-school author chum of MDW's who wrote the forward to 'Shadow' and was present to read it to the assembled crowd. (Mike is seen here wearing a bull shirt.) As for the book, it sprinkles the CIA's MK ULTRA mind-control experiments using LSD atop the 1960s sex-and-drug drenched LA celebrity scene with a healthy garnish of Charles Manson. Quite the mix, but it sounds like fun reading. (Author Adam Gorightly pictured here, awash in note cards.)

Events on August 9th

Forty years ago tomorrow tonight, Chuck Manson's kids killed Sharon Tate and six others up in Bel Air. Earlier that evening, Tate dined at El Coyote on Beverly Blvd. - still there - before returning home to a grisly fate.

In 1945, the plutonium bomb code-named "Fat Man" exploded over Nagasaki, killing 39,000 Japanese outright.

My friend Ken's birthday is tomorrow. He is five months older than me and I always count on his reports on how a year is playing out. I'll join him age-wise in December.

UPDATE: Almost forgot, in 1974 President Nixon resigned.

'Lessen You're a Hog or a Cattle'

So long, John Hughes. My wife and I still watch Planes, Trains, and Automobiles around Thanksgiving. (A friend used to work for John Candy and recalled he kept the trunk in his office.) Rest well and remember...we'll always have Stubbsville.


h/t: snowmoch

Something Scary This Way Comes

Here is a show for children. If you are on hallucinogens, it will appear normal.

h/t: Viral Footage

This Isn't Nice...

...but I'm posting it nonetheless. Here are 40 time-wasting websites. I barely got through the first nine without clicking on something.

h/t: PC World via American Digest

Tribute

Peter Hastings crafted a moving film in memory of his late wife, Rosina.

From the East

Takineko ponders the power of Japan's newest thing: Tarako.

Vultures and Therapy

On the vulture front, Tom has assembled vocal tracks and continues with the artwork. Perhaps something early in 2010.

At physical therapy today, the therapist emphasized the importance of strengthening the pelvis - hips and glutes - for future running. For years, conventional wisdom promoted a strong core and stretched legs. Pelvic exercises were only mentioned in relation to Hula Hoops or Paris Hilton. So for the next two weeks, I'll do physical therapy homework until the therapist returns from vacation. Then more evaluating. But progress is being made.

Hear Hear

High drama at the neighbor's place this morning. The young daughter screamed and wailed for mother, far beyond normal screaming and wailing. As it turned out, the mother had dashed off to the store. The father explained that mom had gone to "the market." The daughter misheard and thought mom had gone to "Mars." Fortunately, Mars sells groceries as mom returned with several bags and all was well.

Lebowski Note and Freakalink

The bowling alley in "Lebowski" was located in Hollywood. My friend was there for a farewell party in 2003 (?) just before they tore it down. He said the bartender was getting pissed at hearing, "Another Caucasian, Gary."

H/T to MetaFilter and their link-rich article on Freakazoid.

Why?

This appeared today about a guy making a documentary about Big Lebowski festivals. Somehow this 1998 Coen brothers film, that barely recouped its budget, became a huge cult hit.

I didn't like it the first time around. After Fargo the movie seemed disjointed and gratuitously odd. (Which I'm not against in general, but my expectations were high and "Lebowski" left me puzzled.) A few years ago, they ran the movie a lot on cable. Every time I surfed, there would be "Lebowski." I'd watch a little and move on. Next time I'd watch a bit more. Finally, I'd drop anchor and see it through. Then I read an article that "Lebowski" was the Coen's homage to 40s noirish detective films. Sure enough, behind the bowling pins lurked a lot of Chandleresque characters and conventions from the Sheriff of Malibu, to the crippled soldier, to deceptive females. Instead of a hard-bitten protagonist seeking justice in an unjust world, there was Dude, a lazy bum with a passion for bowling and White Russians who finally figures it all out.

Now I'm a fan, but content to be alone in my fandom, not seeking out my kind, but, like the Dude, I simply abide.

h/t: FaffandNatter

Thanks for Your Heart

I just had a meeting like this, only no coffee.

Plus Mr. DeNiro gets testy.

h/t: decay1966

The Emperor's New Phone

I'm getting one.

h/t: Mary McCann

Troy Benjamin's Graphic Novel

Congratulations to Troy Benjamin - Freakazoid DVD director extraordinaire. His graphic novel series Only in Dreams has been optioned by Fineprint Productions. Troy was also featured on a podcast, opines on the late Michael Jackson, and is scoring a new opera to be sung by members of the Department of Fish and Game. More here on Troy's busy creative doings.

Hip News

My physical therapist is a young guy who digs sprint triathlons - 800 yard swim, 12 mile bike ride, 3.1 mile run. Examining my knee, he said we must locate the weakness that led to excessive stress. A few more exams and the culprit was unmasked: weak glutes and hips. In addition, my calves are stiff as an oak table. So I received six exercises to perform daily. I'll go back next week and, if the indicated parts have strengthened, obtain even more exercises. I like this guy. He understand the whole exercise/goal-setting paradigm. Hopefully, he's not a vision.

Friday at the Con

Behold, many costumed characters! And this was taken at San Diego City Hall. The convention was much stranger, filled with wonder and the power of imagination plus large, billowy men who hadn't seen the sun since the last days of dial-up modems. I ran into Stan, an old Batman and Batman Beyond writer as well as catching a glimpse of Bruce Timm. MDW bumped into a sci-fi and fantasy author friend. At my agency's posh annual party, I saw an executive I know from Cartoon Network, an agent, the owner of our agency, and the guy serving Thai egg rolls. Overall, a brief, but festive, adventure.

Pre-Post on Comic Con

One of my favorite comics from childhood. I hadn't read a copy of "Cameras are Filming" in many years so you can imagine the nostalgia that washed over me like a big storm surge. My wife wanted to buy a large pretzel and rest, but I couldn't be torn from this relic of my past. In the end, MDW snapped a photo so that I might stare at it, recalling all the thrills and excitement that were mine every month as I raced to the drug store to purchase the latest "Cameras are Filming." They say there's a movie deal in the works, but I hope not. They'll soil what is pure.

Pre-Comic Con

Started my latest story for Esquire's fiction contest. Sadly, I will not have marinating time like I did on "Bane Fish," but I think I know where the story leads.

Knee is swollen from aqua running and the gym. Too much, too soon. I start physical therapy next week. Let's see what these learned folks think.

Off to Comic Con on Friday. I'll look up a few people, stop by my agency's annual party, and return via exotic desert by-ways, passing factory outlets and Indian casinos broiling in the July sun.

Now to barbecue!

Delightful News from Prose, TV Animation Front

Writers bask in the following words from a story editor: "Notes were light. I'll do 'em. Go ahead and invoice." Such basking was my lot today.

An old joke goes like this: an actor comes home to find his house on fire and his family murdered. A neighbor tells him that the actor's agent drove up, went nuts, torched the place and shot the family. The actor stared in disbelief: "My agent...actually came to my house?" 

Well, my agent called from New York to say she really enjoyed the short story "Bane Fish," but didn't have a place for it. I'd already sent it off to an anthology, but thanked her none the less for complimentary news. When she's not dealing, my agent is reading stuff to deal, or stuff that has been dealt, so it's hard to get ahead of her. But "Bane Fish" did. Thanks once again to Takineko, Keeper, Katie, and Ernesto, among others, for helping out. I'm working on another short story for a contest at Esquire, and a third for an anthology with a September 1 deadline. Never enough hours in the day when you're under employed. 

1969 Thoughts

A pair of generations ago... on July 18, 1969 Ted Kennedy left a party with a young woman, crashed his car into a river, went home with woman and car still submerged, and didn't call the cops until the next day. The woman drowned. Ted, though ill, is still a U.S. Senator and never saw the inside of a jail except on Lockup. It pays to be rich.

There was no room in yesterday's Cronkite post, but to give you some idea of Vietnam's savagery: starting at the Tet Offensive in January 1968 and continuing until October 1969, the United States lost at least 500 men killed a week. The South Vietnamese, who were often rightly disparaged as weak, corrupt and ineffective, always lost more. The North Vietnamese and Viet Cong topped even that.

Last year's moon post summoned it up well.

Cronkite, Vietnam and South Park

At the last Cable Ace award ceremony ever held, Paul Rugg and I encountered Walter Cronkite in the Men's Room. We passed within a yard of the famed newsman as he told a joke about a nun. We were on the move and missed the punch line, but, hey, that was Walter Cronkite!

In any case, Walter was really wrong about the whole Tet Offensive business.

On the Vietnamese Lunar Holiday (Tet) in January 1968 - after months of good news war stories, buffed to a mirror-like shine by the Johnson administration - the Viet Cong launched country-wide attacks throughout South Vietnam. (My cousin Danny landed in bullet-riddled Saigon the second day of the assaults. As ranking naval officer on his flight, he had to deliver orders to a headquarters across the city from the airport, negotiating his way past street fighting and wondering how the rest of his 365 days would shape up.) In any case, there was a sense by the American media that the U.S. was involved in a stalemate. After a trip to South Vietnam, Walter gave a famous speech in which he said our only way out was to negotiate.

As it turns out, the enemy was guilty of pumping sunshine up their army's ass. Viet Cong troops were told they'd be welcomed by a grateful population, the South Vietnamese army would crack like a fortune cookie, and the Americans would be chased to their big coastal bases where they'd drink beer and grumble. Instead, elite Viet Cong cadre attacked and were chewed up by U.S. firepower. The population played it cagey and the South Vietnamese army fought. The Viet Cong were demoralized and, except locally, never a nation-wide factor again. North Vietnam shouldered the brunt of the war. (After they finally won in 1975, the North Vietnamese refused to allow any Viet Cong units to march in the victory parade. A cynic might think the VC were set up to be decimated.)

In any case, Walter Cronkite got a little jumpy and traded on his good name to make policy pronouncements. Maybe he should've waited to see how the fighting shook out, instead of punching his own team in the neck during a tough go.

As to the 1997 Cable Ace awards, that night, Freakazoid lost out to some trendy, limited animation thing called South Park. Paul and I laughed. How long would that show last?

Half-Blood Prince: Middle Movie

The Empire Strikes Back and the The Two Towers are examples of middle-movies: part two of a three-part film series noted for unresolved endings and a two-year wait for the conclusion. 'Half-Blood' had that feel, even though it's woven into a much longer arc. Other Potter films managed to wrap up an immediate story, while teasing the inevitable battle between Harry and Voldemort. However 'Half Blood' had no extra wrapping for a neat ending. The only alternative was a nine-hour film. (People around us in the theater wouldn't have minded.) Nevertheless, as a Harry Potter fan, I enjoyed it. I especially admired the Weasley twins who drop out of school, launch their own business, and prosper in dark times, having a few laughs along the way. They reminded me of my friend, restaurant and theater owner, Tim O'Connor, except the Weasley's get Christmas off.

Visiting Mr. Potter

Off to see Harry Potter this afternoon. I always thought a good story would involve Ron, Hermione, and Old Man Potter from It's a Wonderful Life. ("Say, that Hogwarts place would make a fine subdivision. Might have to poison those weird animals; drag their bodies into the lake. No one has to know. How 'bout it, kids?") Instead of a positive leader and friend, Old Man Potter would serve as a daily moral test. Wearing his Hogwarts uniform, riding around in a wheelchair - placing a broom under the wheelchair so he could cheat at Quidditch - Old Man Potter might prove more than a match for Voldemort and a thorny pest for Dumbledore. ("We could sell that sorting hat to a carnival; make a lot of dough. You only use it once a year. Keep it?!! Why that's a load of sentimental hogwash.")

Watch for Old Man Potter and the Magic Slum, coming soon somewhere.

Twilight Time

Netflix delivered the vampire film Twilight. I didn't even order it. A DVD showed up in my mailbox with a hand-written letter that said, "Don't cry, weakling." I'm not even sure what that means. But right now I'm wondering if the mailman might be responsible: given me a neighbor's movie and added that note. Mailman or psycho at Netflix? How to respond? Could there be a clue in the film? Is there a scene where a post man fights off a yappy dog, but fails to spot the vampire teenager that turns him into the undead? How am I responsible? More research is needed.

Baby, We Were Born to Use the Elliptical

That's my exercise world for the next two and a half months, along with swimming and various other non-running actions. As the leg mends and the new cartilage adjusts to knee life, I'm glad things have progressed so well and that no mistaken amputations or unauthorized organ harvesting have occurred - at least to me.

What's Up, Doc?

I've been waiting a few days to say that. My Monday appointment was scratched because the doctor drank too much at a "medical convention" and missed his flight. That's not true, but made better reading than "his flight was cancelled." Tomorrow morning I shall learn what exercises are permitted with the knee. I've been aqua running a few times and all has gone well. But a little more cardio is in order.

A friend and I are going to write a Da Vinci Code parody. I've been working through the book taking notes and am highly encouraged. Dan Brown's writing is really dry, garnished with cliches and, yet, over 40 million copies were sold. (One of them to me.) Possibly we can write something half as long, twice as bad, and sell 20 million copies. In any case, I'm spending money as if I'd already received the advance. That's known as unwarranted positive thinking. I believe it's the cornerstone of our nation's financial planning.

Webless Sunday

Yesterday, for the first time in a long while, I stayed off the Web. I actually got fidgety, like when I quit smoking. As my time online has increased over the last few years, I've found my attention span decreasing. I read fewer and fewer books and they tend to be short ones.

As my old t'ai chi instructor might've said: "You are unbalanced. You are also late with this month's payment. Be balanced. Write me a check. Or I'll kick your yang into the next time zone."

Birth of Acme Comedy Theatre

Bob Petrella reminded me that today (a Tuesday?) back in 1989, M.D. Sweeney held the first class for what-was-to-become the Acme Comedy Players. Present were Bob and myself, Sherri Stoner, Ken Segall, Jim Wickline, and possibly a few others from our days at the L.A. Connection. We worked out of a small theater on Tujunga Ave. in Studio City, just down the block from the restaurant where, in later years, Robert Blake shot his wife. (We hadn't much money so we never ate there. They could've shot a celebrity wife every week and we'd still be dining at 7-11.) Months passed as we worked on basic improvisational comedy, added a few more cast members (including Adam Carolla), and, that fall, commenced working on written sketches as Sweeney wanted us performing live shows beginning in early spring 1990. (Bob will know the date.)

My life was better in people and events from attending that wee improv group. Happy Birthday, Acme!

Nature of the Enemy

Soldiers in Afghanistan say the real enemy is the camel spider. These things are fast and like to fasten on the bellies of camels and goats - or the leg of a sleeping trooper. After numbing the area, the spiders feast and the victim doesn't feel a thing. Men in Colin's outfit packed rat traps to kill any that might wander around their position. Just another unsung military occupational hazard.

h/t: spiner507