Wednesday, July 24, 2013

Oklahoma does not deserve that much rain.

A couple of things. First, retirement is creeping up so damn fast I can hardly stand it! In case you haven’t noticed the countdown in the right sidebar, I’ll be applying for Social Security in a few days so the government can start paying my benefits when I turn 62 on November 1. Yes, I’m collecting early, and no, I don’t want to discuss it. We’ve done the math and there’s no reason not to. Thank you.

Second, we didn’t haul in a single drop of precipitation this morning because for some insane reason that huge weather system (see previous post) vanished after it stopped for breakfast in Oklahoma. VANISHED.


On a happier note — especially for Sam, who practically ran out of socks yesterday — this is laundry day at Howdygram headquarters! I’m currently on my third load with two more to go. Volunteers are now being accepted for a folding extravaganza that begins tonight at 8 followed immediately by the premier episode of “Top Chef Masters.” I also recommend that you set your DVR to record The Twelve Chairs (1970) tonight on TCM. This little-known and thoroughly hilarious Mel Brooks gem stars Ron Moody, Frank Langella and Dom DeLuise as Russians in 1920 desperately searching for treasure hidden in a set of dining room chairs lost during the Revolution.
As long as I’m discussing movies I might as well throw in my thoughts about a dud that we suffered through on Tuesday called Garden of the Moon (1938), probably the lousiest musical ever made. It stars Pat O’Brien as a fast-talking jerk who operates a swanky night club in Hollywood. When John Payne comes on board as the leader (and vocalist) of a second-rate orchestra, he and Pat immediately hate each other’s guts and spend the next 90 minutes fighting, snarling and playing dirty tricks on each other like a couple of obnoxious frat boys.
As for the music, every song was gimmicky and forgettable — i.e., jerky things like “The Lady on the Two-Cent Stamp” and “The Girl Friend of the Whirling Dervish” — and the orchestra was sprinkled with all those typical 1930s-era cartoonish screwballs, such as Johnnie Davis and Jerry Colonna.
Apparently Warner Bros. wanted Dick Powell as the lead (instead of John Payne) but Powell was so disgusted that he refused the part and accepted a layoff. Smart move. Too bad the rest of the cast didn’t join him.

Thank you for reading this.

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