"For Baby (For Bobbie)" -- Part Two, 1974

"For Baby (For Bobbie)" is a five-part story I wrote ten years ago. I hope you take the time to read all of it from beginning to end. If you attempt to read it at all, and if you don't think it sucks.

Last time: The year is 1974. Robert "Eli" Whitney, sexually-overactive high school senior, is somewhat pressured by circumstances into taking an unpopular albeit attractive sophomore named Karen Hoffman -- known as "Boris Karloff" or simply "Karloff" for no reason other than the fact that high school kids are predominately vicious little creeps -- to a John Denver concert.

That's all you get, except for the following illustration of something which figures just prominently enough in the story to unnerve those of you who don't know what a "pushbutton transmission" is:


And if you're really interested in the car described in this storyline, you can view a version of it here!

* * * * *

It was almost a fifty-mile drive to Boston, the site of the concert, but Eli's well-preserved 1964 Plymouth Fury was more than adequate for the task. He and Karen barely spoke, a fact which was glossed over by the portable 8-track player which rested on the seat between them, blaring out "John Denver's Greatest Hits." (Eli's car had only an AM radio.)

One of the few times either of them did talk to each other was when Karen questioned Eli's choice of music. "Why are you playing all the songs we're probably going to hear tonight anyway?" she asked.

"Cuz I like them, dummy."

"So do I, but we're going to hear every one of them at least once on our way. We might get sick of them."

"If you can get sick of them, you shouldn't be going to this concert!" He shook his head. "Man, I should have gotten a real date..."

"I didn't really mean I'd get sick of them..."

"Then you shouldn't have said that, idiot."

Karen suddenly made a strange, almost-inhuman sound of frustration. "Why do have to do that?"

"Do what?"

"Insult me like that all the time! 'Dummy.' 'Idiot.' What did I ever do to you?"

"Nothing... It's just the way I talk."

"Well, it stinks, and anyway... that's no excuse."

"Sorry. Geez! I didn't mean anything by it."

"Then you shouldn't have said that... idiot," she said, repeating his earlier words to her.

He laughed at that, in spite of himself. Then the two fell silent.

At the concert's start, John Denver shouted "Hello, Boston!" which naturally got applause. "Shining pearl of the East..." A mild laugh from the crowd. "Home of the Bruins and the Celtics..." Even heartier applause than his opener. "Gateway to... South Boston." That got the laugh he was presumably expecting.

For Karen and Eli, the rest of the concert was pleasingly predictable, except for a welcome surprise when Denver and his back-up band played "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down."

On their way home, the two began talking about the concert they'd just left. At last, they seemed to have something in common.

"I don't know what it was, exactly," said Eli, "but there was something really cool about Denver's bass player."

"Oh, Dick Kniss? Sure, he's been with John for years. He's backed up Peter, Paul, and Mary, too, on a lot of their stuff."

"Peter, Paul, and Mary?" Eli replied, with a tone of voice that Karen immediately found offensive.

"Yeah. Something wrong with them?"

"Not if you like folk music..."

"What would you call John if not folk music?"

"I love the way you say 'John' like he's your buddy."

"Well, he feels like a friend sometimes."

"Anyway, he's not folk, he's... country rock."

"He's not country!"

"Not like that twangy shit... I mean, stuff, sorry... but country rock."

"Folk rock, maybe, like... ohh... Simon and Garfunkel."

"You can't compare John Denver to Simon and Garfunkel!"

"So says the musical expert who doesn't even read the credits on albums!"

"Who says I don't?"

"I do! Otherwise you would have known the name Dick Kniss." Eli didn't reply. "You don't read them, do you?"

"No," he said defensively. "Why should I?"

"So you can hold up your end of a stupid conversation with..." She trailed off, as a certain realization struck her. "I guess you don't usually have to talk to your dates."

"You're not my date, dummy."

"You know what I meant. All those chicks you date are just there for one thing. And it's not conversation." She paused, adding "I guess they're right about you," under her breath, but not so softly that Eli didn't hear her.

"Up yours, Karloff! Whether I date two chicks, or twenty, and what I do with them when I date them, is none of your business!"

"More like twenty..."

"Look, you'd better keep your mouth shut."

"Oh, yeah? Why?"

"Cuz it's a long walk home for you from here." His mind suddenly flashed on a much earlier conversation with her. "No 'put out or get out,' either. Just get out!"

"You wouldn't do that to me, dump me off on the turnpike. I'd get arrested if the state police saw me, and raped or worse if somebody else came after me."

Eli took his eyes off the road briefly enough to look at Karen. He was about to make an extremely insulting comment to the effect of "Who'd even want to rape you?" but overruled his obnoxious tendencies, for once.

Instead of speaking, Eli reached for the 8-track player and inserted the "John Denver's Greatest Hits" tape. "Is it okay if I play this?" he asked Karen, with only a slight sarcastic edge in his voice. "Wouldn't want to make you sick, or anything."

She smiled. "You won't. Huh! You sure calmed down in a hurry."

"I'm like that sometimes. Hey, do me a favor?"

"What?"

"Reach in that cooler in the back seat, and get me a beer?"

"You brought beer to the concert?" she asked, shocked.

"Well, not to the concert, exactly, but... So what? I'm old enough!" (The legal drinking age in Massachusetts at the time was eighteen. Eli was eighteen. Life was good.)

Karen draped herself over the back of the car seat and lifted the lid of a Styrofoam cooler. Eli characteristically checked out her butt. "Why didn't you drink on the way to the show?" she asked, as she reached into the icy water and took out a can of Schlitz.

"Are you nuts? I spend ten dollars per ticket, I'm not going to get so drunk I can't remember it." Karen handed the beer to Eli. "Thanks. You want one?"

"Ummm... okay," she said, leaning over the seat once again in order to get a can for herself. And Eli glanced over to check out her butt again.

For the rest of the time they were on the turnpike, Eli and Karen didn't talk. They just drank.

By the time they'd gotten to her house, Eli had consumed three cans of Schlitz, and was comfortably "buzzed." Karen was still working on her second, and she was completely drunk. When she saw that Eli was approaching her home, Karen panicked. "Don't bring me home!" she screamed.

"What? Why not?"

"Are you kidding? If I walk in sloshed, my parents will kill me."

"Well, what the hell am I supposed to do with you? Drive around until you sober off?" He drove past her house, then looked over at her. She was noticeably intoxicated. "That could take months."

"I'm going to be sick."

"Do you mean that literally, or..."

"I'm going to be sick!"

"Not in my car!" Eli yelled, pulling off the road and stopping. His Plymouth had a pushbutton transmission. He moved the "park" lever downward, taking the car out of gear. "Get out! Quick!"

"Where's the door handle?" she slurred.

"Oh, God...! Roll down your window, then!"

She nodded, saying, "Sure. Where's the cranky thing?"

Now it was Eli's turn to panic. He leaned across the seat. Actually, he leaned across Karen, as well. His left hand found the door handle that had been so elusive for Karen, and his right hand gripped her left forearm tightly. As the car door swung open, Karen tumbled outward (but not all the way out, thanks to Eli) and just in time. Two cans of beer and whatever she'd had for supper exited rudely from her mouth and splattered into the bushes.

Eli was sprawled across Karen. Karen didn't move for a moment, but instead gloried in the cool night breezes that played across her face. Then she realized that Eli was more or less on top of her. "You can stop pawing me now."

"Pawing you?"

"Well, you're on top of me!"

"That's to keep you from rolling out of the car and landing in your own puke!"

"Okay. Thank you. Now let me up?"

Eli sat up and re-positioned himself behind the driver's seat. Karen straightened up as well. He looked at her, cautiously. "Are you going to throw up again?"

She looked outside -- she hadn't closed the car door yet -- and said, "I don't think I have anything left."

"Very funny. Now close your door," he said, raising the "park" lever and pushing the "drive" button on the car's dashboard. She closed the door as he steered back onto the road.

After only a few minutes of silence, she said, "I guess I spoiled your little plan, huh?"

"What plan? What are you talking about?"

"Well, you obviously planned to get me drunk, and that worked, but my getting sick wasn't on the menu, was it?"

"What are you talking about?" he repeated. "Did you think I was going to...?" He glared at her. "You did, didn't you? I mean, you do, or... I don't know what I mean!" he sputtered.

"Well, it's kind of hard to take advantage of someone when she's puking her guts out..."

"Look, you, I have had it with all these accusations. You don't know me at all. Now I am bringing you home." Suiting the action to the word, he looped around at a wide point in the back road they were on and began driving back to Karen's house.

"Wait a second! Wait a second! What about my parents?"

"That's not my problem."

"Don't be a jerk!"

"Jerk. Right." He shook his head, angrily. "You know something?"

"What?"

"Maybe I shouldn't insult you as much as I do, but your way of insulting me is even worse!"

"Huh?"

"You keep insulting me based on nothing but what other people have told you. That makes you just as bad as all those snobs who call you Karloff."

Karen thought about what Eli had said for the rest of the drive to her home. Before she got out, she admitted, "You were right about my misjudging you. You can be kind of rude and all, so I should just stick to the first-hand stuff like that."

"Is that supposed to be some kind of apology?"

She opened the car door and stepped out. "Yeah, I guess it is. And thanks for bringing me to the concert, too. Hey! I never paid you for my ticket!"

"Don't worry about it. My treat. I feel like I owe you for all my wisecracks. You know, calling you dummy and idiot, and Karloff, and everything." He smiled at her and mouthed "See ya!" as she closed the door.

He'd surprised her by refusing the money for the ticket.

And Eli surprised Karen once again about a month later, when he asked her if she'd like a different kind of ticket, this time one to attend his high school graduation.

*  *  *  *  *

To Be Continued Tomorrow...

For Baby (For Bobbie) ~~ Part One, 1974

Something different this week, fellow babies. "For Baby (For Bobbie)" is a five-part story I wrote ten years ago. I hope you take the time to read all of it from beginning to end. If you attempt to read it at all, and if you don't think it sucks.

Other than that, you're on your own.

* * * * *

Ever since Robert Whitney had transferred to his new high school and almost immediately been nicknamed "Eli" by an upperclassman, only the members of his small family -- his mom, dad, and two orphaned cousins -- called him anything but Eli.

They -- his family -- called him "Bobby" or "Bob."

Not that it mattered.

One afternoon, during his senior year of high school -- in the Spring of 1974, to be exact -- Eli was standing outside of his homeroom, arguing with his best friend Teddy. The students had just been dismissed for the day.

"Twenty dollars? For two lousy concert tickets? Are you nuts, Teddy?"

Teddy, a pale-skinned, portly youth with a dark brown "Afro" and the beginnings of what might someday be called a mustache, merely shrugged. "Try getting them somewhere else, Eli."

"That's twice what they're going for. You can't screw your best buddy like this."

"Let's not start name-calling. They were going for five bucks each. But the concert's in less than a week, and now they're unavailable. Unless you know me." Teddy grinned, not realizing that the ordinarily passive Eli was dangerously close to punching him in the face.

Suddenly, a diminutive, dark-haired sophomore whom Teddy and Eli recognized as Karen Hoffman -- derisively referred to as "Boris Karloff" among the so-called "popular people" -- stepped between the two, facing Teddy. "Are you Teddy Wilson, the guy with the John Denver tickets?"

Teddy and Eli were both literally a head taller than Karen. Teddy stared into Eli's blue eyes pointedly as he replied to the attractive underclassman. "I could be."

"Bastard," Eli muttered under his breath. He put his hands on Karen's shoulders. "Sorry, Karloff, no tickets for you!"

Without turning around, Karen said, "Get your crummy hands off me, blondie," referring to Eli's shoulder-length, wavy blonde hair. "And don't call me Karloff."

Eli removed his hands from Karen's shoulders. "Oh, yeah? Well, don't you call me blondie... Karloff!" He pulled his wallet out of his unzipped gym bag. "Here you go, you thief," he said, withdrawing two wrinkled ten dollar bills from the wallet and handing them to Teddy. "I hope you choke on them. And I still say it's a gyp! For ten bucks a ticket you could get the damned Beatles back together!"

Teddy grinned. "Or maybe the Jimi Hendrix Experience?"

"Hendrix is dead, stupid."

Teddy walked away, waving the two bills in the air. "For this kinda moolah, who knows?"

A furious Eli stood there, shaking his head and talking to himself. "That's right, rub my nose in it, you rotten..."

"Hey!" yelled Karen. "Don't tell me you just bought the last Denver tickets he had."

"Yup." He began walking away from her.

"I want those tickets," she said, following him as he headed down the long corridor, toward the nearest exit.

"Good for you. How's it feel to want?"

"I'll pay you twenty dollars for them," she offered, walking next to him, crab-like, on his right.

He didn't even look at her. "That's what I just paid, dummy."

"Okay, thirty for both of them."

He slowed a bit, but still didn't look at her. "You're screwy."

"Forty, then!"

"Oh, come on, don't be a jerk. You don't have that kind of money."

"I can... I can get it."

"How? You're just a punk kid. Do you even have a job?"

The fact that he was even still talking to her encouraged her. She decided there was a possibility of winning him over with humor. "Maybe I'll become a prostitute and sell my body."

That did make Eli laugh, but not exactly in the way Karen had intended. "You could never be a prostitute!"

"I was only kidding anyway, stupid, but... why not?"

He was still laughing as he neared the open door to the student parking lot. "Because you could never survive on two dollars a month!"

Karen was still awkwardly walking sideways. "Very funny!" She suddenly slammed into the wall beside the open door with her right shoulder. She screamed, and several students on either side of the exit laughed.

"Shut the hell up, you goons!" yelled Eli into the air, at no one in particular and everyone in general. He put his right hand on Karen's uninjured left shoulder. "You okay, there, Clumsy Carp?"

"Clumsy Carp?" Karen said, with a very weak voice.

"He's a caveman in a comic strip called B.C." Karen stared at him. "Never mind! Are you okay? You going to live?"

"I think my shoulder's broken, or dislocated, or... something."

"Oh, come on. You're not hurt that bad! And if it was broken, you'd know it."

"So much for caring about whether I'm hurt. Dink."

"How you getting home?"

"I missed the bus haggling over those stupid tickets. I guess I walk."

"I can give you a ride."

"You're kidding, right?"

"No. What makes you say that?"

"Sure you want to be seen with me? With Boris Karloff?"

"I already am being seen with you," Eli replied. "My reputation's already shot to hell," he joked.

He escorted her to his car, a light blue 1964 Plymouth Fury. She walked up to the locked passenger-side front door and stood there expectantly. Eli walked to his own driver's-side front door, unlocked it, and tossed the keys to Karen across the roof of the car.

She caught the keys. "So much for the gentleman opening the door for me," she said, just loud enough for him to hear.

"Why, are both your arms broken? This isn't a date, turkey. Get in!"

As soon as Karen was seated, she lowered her passenger-side visor to see if there was a vanity mirror attached -- there was -- and she removed various make-up items from her pocketbook.

"What are you doing?" asked Eli.

"Touching up my face."

He was about to say something sarcastic, but stopped. What he did say was "Hey, can I ask you something?"

"I guess."

"Why do they call you Karloff? I mean.... you aren't ugly, really."

"Wow. Thanks for the rave review."

"Just answer the stupid question?"

"You know Denise Nealon, right?"

"Ummm.... yeah."

"Oh, let me guess, you've dated her?"

"None of your business."

"That's a yes..." she muttered. "Anyway, she was making fun of me with some of her hoity-toity cheerleader friends when I was a freshman, calling me stupid, and ugly, and she took the K-A-R from Karen and the 'Hoff' sound from Hoffman..."

"That's pretty clever."

"Thanks a lot."

"No, I just meant.... I mean, that's smarter than I'd give her credit for, usually."

"My mom says I look like an actress on TV..."

"Who? Lassie?" Karen's eyes opened wide. "Just kidding!" he added quickly.

"No, smartie. There's this girl who keeps showing up in commercials and on TV shows. Maybe you've even seen her."

"Probably not. I almost never watch TV."

"Oh. Well, my mom says she looks like me, only she's younger." (The young actress in question was Kristy McNichol, later of Apple's Way, Family, and Empty Nest. And truth be told, Karen did resemble her a bit, but Karen's face was much rounder.)

"Oh," said Eli, sounding disappointed. "I thought maybe you were a horror movie fan, or something. Are you?"

"No. Are you?"

"Sure."

"Figures."

"You'd look kinda cute if you let your hair grow past your shoulders. Shiny black hair like yours looks good when it's really long."

"Did you actually just say I'd look cute?"

"It was just a suggestion. Geez."

During the rest of the drive to Karen's home, there wasn't much conversation between the two, except for when Karen spoke to give Eli directions. That, and the one time he casually asked how her shoulder was.

"It still hurts," she told him. They were approaching her house. "Pull over here. Don't pull into the driveway."

"Huh? Why not?"

"I don't want to have to explain anything to my folks. Especially why I'm with you."

"Me? What about me? How do they even know me?"

"Everybody knows about you," she answered, only half-kiddingly. "You're famous. Or... infamous, more like."

He was surprised she was able to make him feel insulted. "Thanks a bunch. I'm so glad I gave you this ride."

"Sorry. Really."

"Yeah, sure." Eli pulled over and put the car in "park."

Karen didn't move.

"Okayyy..." he said, turning to her. "You're home." She still didn't budge. "Hey! I said you're home. What are you waiting for?"

"We didn't finish our discussion about those tickets..."

"Oh, yes, we did."

"Oh, no, we didn't!" she snapped. "Look, you were right. I really can't afford forty dollars, but I'll give you twenty dollars for just one of them! Deal?"

"No! That's screwy!"

"But you'll get all your money back, and still get to go to see John Denver."

"Yeah. By myself. Because one ticket means no date for me!" Eli's eyes suddenly opened wide. "And since these tickets are for adjoining seats, you're the one who's going to be sitting next to me! It'll look like you're my date!"

"Oh? And is that so bad?" Now it was Karen's turn to be insulted.

"I didn't mean it that way," he said, lamely.

"Huh. I wouldn't go out with you anyway."

"Why not?"

"Because I've... heard... about you."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"You've taken out half the girls in the junior and senior class."

"So what? There's no law against being... I don't know... popular."

"No, but then you drive them out to some God-forsaken back road and pull the old 'put out or get out' routine on them."

Once again, Eli was offended. "That's... That's not true. I never..." He looked at Karen with the utmost sincerity. "Is that what they all say about me? They really say that?"

"Yeah. You mean it's not true?"

"No. I mean, there's a lot of them that I've, you know, done it with, but I never had to... Wow. They really say that?"

"Maybe they just said that because it made them sound better?"

"Maybe. Wow..."

"Hey, look, if you're not going to go all caveman on me if we go together, why don't we go together? Taking one car instead of two makes more sense, because there is an energy crisis, after all, and gas is up to fifty cents a gallon..."

"What do you mean, one car instead of two? You don't have a car anyway. Do you even have your license yet?"

"Well... No, so if you take me in your car, I won't have to worry about how I'm going to get there. I mean, when I was going to have two tickets, that wasn't a problem, because I would've gotten someone who owned a car to go with me, but then when I offered to buy only one of your tickets..."

He waved his hand in the air impatiently. "Okay okay okay! I get your point! Geez!"

"Then... I'll pay you for one ticket, and chip in for gas?"

"Okay. Wonderful. Terrific."

She reached for the door handle. "So it's a date?"

He looked at her sternly. "Only if you don't call it that."

*  *  *  *  *

To Be Continued Monday morning...

The Marvel Super Heroes, 1966 ~~ A "Comical Wednesday" Post

In late 1966, thanks largely in part to the immediate success a few months earlier of the campy Batman TV show, Marvel Comics licensed the rights for five of their superheroes -- Thor, Iron Man, the Hulk, Sub-Mariner, and my favorite Marvel hero, Captain America -- to Grantray-Lawrence Animation. They produced several episodes of these characters, in what can only charitably be described as "limited animation."

This is the theme song for the main show itself, featuring all five characters.

Nice that the guy who posted this on YouTube messed it up with his email address, innit?

Some of those heroes' individual theme songs have been stuck in the minds of many for over fifty years. They used the theme for the Iron Man cartoons not once, but three times in the first Iron Man film in 2008!

The artwork was pretty much taken directly from the comic issues that supplied the cartoons with their stories. So we got to see crude copies of art by Jack Kirby, Steve Ditko, Don Heck...

The studio used the most rudimentary methods to "animate" these drawings. Check out the horrible animation quality on the first Thor episode. And try to bear with it for at least the first four or five minutes, willya?

That over-the-top rendering of the voice of Loki was provided by Len Carlson (1937-2006). And that was the voice I "heard" every time I read an issue of Journey into Mystery (later renamed Thor), at least until Tom Hiddleston first played Loki in 2011.

Boston viewers got an additional treat, if one can call it that. We not only had The Marvel Super Heroes cartoons, we also had Captain America himself to introduce the episodes I'm not 100% certain, but I'm pretty sure only the New England area (Boston's Channel 7, WNAC-TV) had him.

Cap was played by an actor named Arthur Pierce (née Levy). And Mr. Pierce is still alive! Click here if you'd like a recent photo and some up-to-date information.

Pierce's Captain America was scripted to be pretty corny, but I suppose we can thank the tone of the Batman TV show for that.

W

Major Mudd (Ed McDonnell, 1926-1979) was a local Boston kiddie show host who also played

the characters of Feep and Lord Bumblebrooke! Someday I may post about him alone!

Well, that's it for today, fellow babies. NO COMICAL WEDNESDAY POST NEXT WEEK! Instead, I'm going to be posting a five-part piece of fiction called "For Baby (For Bobbie)" which I've been threatening you with promising you for a few weeks. That will probably begin this Saturday. I sincerely hope I'll see you then.

Thanks for your time.

"Mt th Btls" ~~ An All-BEATLES "Short Shorts" Post!

1. If I were stranded on a deserted island with only five LPs...

Okay, I'll start over.

If I were stranded on a deserted island which somehow had electricity available for my use, plus a working turntable (a/k/a "record player"), plus only five LPs of my choosing (and "greatest hits" collections don't count), the five LPs would include the first or second rock'n'roll LP I ever heard in its entirety, "Meet The Beatles!", released in the USA by Capitol Records on January 20th, 1964. The other "first or second rock'n'roll LP I ever heard in its entirety" was the Beatles other "first" album, "Introducing... The Beatles," released by VeeJay Records only ten days earlier! I don't remember which LP my older sister Kathy bought first!

2. (Reprinted from 11/30/09) I was seven years old when the Beatles and their music made their big splash on American soil. (A "splash" on "soil?" Am I mixing metaphors there?) Therefore, while the teenage girls mostly chose -- "chose" meaning "had the hots for" -- Paul or John, my favorite Beatle was the comical, goofy Ringo. That changed as the years went by and I entered my so-called adulthood. George became my favorite. For some reason, I identified more with the spiritual, so-called "quiet Beatle" more than the others. (And to anyone who read that and said "You identified with somebody described as spiritual and quiet?"... leave the room, wiseguy.)

Although I was shocked and saddened at the fatal shooting of John Lennon in 1980, it was Harrison's 2001 death that had a more profound effect on me. Something about the youngest Beatle dying of lung cancer, a disease more associated with older people -- and yes, of course I realize that cancer far too often claims the lives of young adults, and even children -- forced me to face my own mortality.

3. My sister bought all the USA versions of the Beatles albums up to and including "Revolver" but lost interest in their music as they entered their more psychedelic phase. Accordingly, my interest in the Beatles is much more prominently focused on their earlier stuff.

4. One day, I was sitting on the floor of Kathy's bedroom while she played "Meet The Beatles!" I was singing along with "All My Loving." Suddenly, my sister started yelling at me, although I don 't remember what she was saying. I didn't care. I was engrossed in the music. Our mom came in, asking what the problem was, and my sister exclaimed "He's singing it wrong!" My mother listened to me for a few moments, then calmly told Kathy "He's singing the harmonies!"

From the start of my own personal Beatlemania, I was confused -- in a good way, actually -- by the Beatles' harmonies. They were well-constructed and stood out to the point where the young Fox wasn't always sure what vocal parts were harmonies, and what parts were the actual melody. I still marvel at songs like "She Loves You," where John and Paul sing/yell "Woooo!" in two-part harmony. Years later, I wrote a rockabilly song called "Because You Lied" for my second band, Viper, and "borrowed" a harmony from the Beatles' "Tell Me Why." To his credit, our keyboard player Sid smiled and recognized the tribute immediately.

5. At seven (then eight, then nine...), I had no sense of musical history. A lot of songs which the Beatles covered on their early albums were originally done by artists like Chuck Berry, Carl Perkins, the Cookies, the Shirelles, Buck Owens, Larry Williams, and others. (Most so-called "British Invasion" groups did that during the '60s.) I didn't learn that until years later.

6. I sang "Back in the USSR" in my first band, Shudr. I didn't really care for that song, though. In my second band, the aforementioned Viper, I helped the other band members combine four or five Beatles tunes into a medley. The crowds loved it!

7. One night, my friend and writing partner Skip and I were at a nightclub where his boss' son was performing in a jazz band. When the band learned that I was a singer, they invited me up on stage for a few numbers. One of the songs they asked if I knew was "Slow Down," Larry Williams' 1956 r&b tune which the Beatles had redone six years later. I sang it as close as I could to how John Lennon had sung it. Of course, it did strike me as odd that a jazz band would do a rhythm and blues song, but hey...

8.  (Reprinted from 5/21/08) I love it when an article talks about "the surviving members of The Beatles," like there are three or four dozen of them floating around the planet. Folks, there are two surviving members. Half the group. Period. There were four in the real core group -- John, Paul, George, and Ringo -- and that's not trying to insult Pete Best, or Stu Sutcliffe, or any of the people who've variously been referred to as "the fifth Beatle" someplace because of their amazing contribution where blah-blah-freakin'-blah was concerned...

And no, no fair counting Yoko.

Let's face it, if you were one of The Beatles, you were one of the coolest people in the universe, ever. Or at least you were cool for a period long enough so that you'll be indelibly stamped in the minds of Earth's citizens as a "former Beatle," and nothing you can do -- not even a stint as Mr. Conductor -- can take that away from you.

I mean, if Paul McCartney -- I'm sorry, I meant Sir Paul McCartney -- were to be elected Prime Minister of Great Britain, you just know that even if he were assassinated in office we'd read this: "British Prime Minister and former Beatle Sir Paul McCartney was shot today outside of... " Hell, Ringo could become an astronaut and a serial killer, and the eventual news article would read, "Ringo Starr, former Beatle, astronaut, and accused mass murderer, was apprehended today... "

9. Something really cool I recently found online. It's almost half an hour long, so it's not for everyone, but if you're a serious Beatles fan, you ought to like it.

Thanks for your time!

P.S. ~~ COMING SOON! (No, really!) A Re-Posting of One of the Best (and Longest) Stories I Ever Posted on This Blog!

"Brother Vampire." No, Seriously. "BROTHER Effin' VAMPIRE." ~~ A "Comical Wednesday" Post

I've often used certain comic stories to justify why I still read comic books, although I'll admit I haven't read the new ones on a regular basis in over fifteen years.

Well, I'll also admit that there are certain comic books, comic characters, or comic book stories that make me say "I still read comic books despite things like these." (For example, see "Superboy Meets Bonnie and Clyde!")

Today we focus on one of the latter.

The above comic cover is that of a comic book published in 1954, Astonishing #35, published by Atlas, which was Marvel Comics before Marvel Comics was Marvel Comics. Sorta.

However, while the cover-featured "The Dinner Guest" does look intriguing, that's not the story I'll be tearing apart commenting on today. I'll be talking about a five-pager originally published in Astonishing #35 and reprinted (Lord knows why) in 1973's Vault of Evil #8.

I have no idea who wrote this story, but although many people seem to think Stan Lee wrote almost everything Timely/Atlas/Marvel ever printed, Stan apparently did not write this one.

The two blurbs below are perhaps the only new additions to the original tale. Starting in the 1970s, Marvel put "Stan Lee Presents" on almost all their stories. (Do they still do that?) Plus there's a reference to the title of the new comic book.

One thing they did not change, but should have, was the caption at the very top, which tells you that this short story is the last one in Astonishing #35. As it happens, however, it's the first story in Vault of Evil #8.

First, they introduce the problem:

Now, at this point, like myself you're probably already saying "Are you f***ing kidding me?" But hold on, it gets better. Or should I say, worse?

And don'tcha just love how the vampire's fangs look more like a mustache?

Anyway, we're immediately told that Eric, the non-vampire brother, has the same questions we do.. but no answers are forthcoming from his creepy, blood-sucking brother, Hans.

Wow. Isn't all of that convenient!?!

Anyway, in this story, vampires can exist and operate in the daytime, in their human form. The story goes on to talk about vampire hunters who can't find Hans because he's hiding in plain sight, as it were.

But one night, Hans goes too far!

Hm. Not too bad-looking. Funny how artist Al Eadeh (1913-2005), who drew such doofy-looking vampires, could turn out a pretty woman like this!

Anyhoo, Eric finally rebels against Hans, who's obviously been draining the blood from male victims for Lord knows how long!

Suspenseful, huh, fellow babies? (By the way, don't you love Hans' funky little wings?)

The ridiculous plot gets even more ridiculous here! The shock of staking his brother returns Eric's memory! No, I swear! That's exactly what it does! And before you can even say "Are you f***ing kidding me?" a second time, they lay this on you:

Never mind all of that, I wanna know where the hell Hans got the drugs he "doped" Eric with! Did he just happen to carry them around with him, jusssst in case he ever encountered an amnesia victim who closely resembled him? If so, boy am I impressed!

Whoa! Here comes the Moment of Truth!

Uhhh, isn't Eric feeling any pain? And isn't there any blood? Shouldn't this tip him off that something's not kosher?

And now, folks, the punchline!

Did I just hear you say "Are you f***ing kidding me?" a third time? I mean... How did Hans attach this "loose plastic?" What the hell is "loose plastic?" And... and... Eric never discovered this before? It's been two years! Two freakin' years!!! Didn't Eric ever get undressed in all this time?!? Not to change his clothes? Not to shower? Not to...???

Oh, never mind. Never mind!!! I give up.

I wonder which Marvel editor decided that this story was one worth reprinting?

Thanks for your time.

P.S. ~~ COMING SOON! (No, really!) A Re-Posting of One of the Best (and Longest) Stories I Ever Posted on This Blog!

History's Bravest Two Men? (Edited from 6/5/10)

A question that often arises is "If you could hold a conversation with (or have dinner with, etc.) any five men and/or women you want (living or dead), whom would you choose?"

Answers usually include those that history regards as great men, such as -- in no particular order -- Lincoln, Jesus, Muhammad, Einstein, Gandhi... Others prefer celebrities like Marilyn Monroe, one or more of the Beatles, or Elvis. Personally, I don't have a definitive list of five, but I'd probably go with five that would include some or all of the following: Orson Welles, Johnny Carson, Barbara Stanwyck, Jack Benny, Harold Lloyd, Charles Dickens, Victor Hugo, Natalie Wood, Wallis Simpson (Duchess of Windsor), George Harrison, Charlie Chaplin, Abraham Lincoln (yeah, me too), Buster Keaton, Elizabeth Taylor, Jean Harlow, Douglas Fairbanks Sr., Stan Laurel, Oliver Hardy, Janis Joplin, Billie Holiday, Alexandre Dumas, June Foray, Paul Frees, Cyrano de Bergerac (the real guy they based the play on), Katharine Hepburn, Thomas Jefferson, Debbie Reynolds, Dorothy Parker... at least one star from the early rock'n'roll era, like Gene Vincent or Roy Orbison... and probably (okay, definitely) some comic artists (comic books or comic strips) like Wallace Wood, Jack Kirby, Milton Caniff, Windsor McKay, Jack Burnley, John Rosenberger, or... Hell, my biggest problem would be trimming down my list of "wants" to only five! Or ten! Or twenty!!!

Especially since I'd wanna add one -- maybe two? -- others. I've long been of the opinion that one of the bravest men in history was the first person to eat an egg. No, really. Say all you want about about how hunting may have been scarce at some point, and so some caveman scooped a handful of eggs from a bird's nest, but think about it: Would he have done so, no matter how hungry, if he'd seen where the egg had... umm... originated?

Here are two scenarios, featuring cavemen (Neanderthal, Cro-Magnon, who cares?) whom I've named Oog and Uk, as they sit around the campfire:

* * * * *

First Scenario

Oog: Hey, Uk, are you hungry? Want some of these left-over mastodon steaks?

Uk: No, thanks, dude. I'd much rather chow down on these oval things I saw a big bird squeeze out of its butt!

* * * * *

Not bloody likely.

* * * * *

Second Scenario (again, with Oog and Uk sitting around the campfire, and we'll stick to Uk's dialogue only, here)

Uk: Hey, Oog, what's that yellow stuff you're eating? (pauses, as Oog replies) Scrambled what? (Oog answers again.) Any good? (Oog nods.) Mind if I try some? (Oog nods again. Uk takes a mouthful and chews it.) Not bad. Where'd you get this stuff? (Oog tells him. Uk immediately looks nauseous.) Don't tell me that, man...

* * * * *

So, was Oog the bravest man in history, or was Uk (who probably continued eating, even after Oog's "revelation?") Food for thought... no pun intended.

And how about the guy who gave the artichoke its English name? Why on Earth would you name any food something with the word "choke" in it?!?

Okay, I'll stop there.

Thanks for your time.

P.S. ~~ COMING SOON! (Watch for it!) A Re-Posting of One of the Best (and Longest) Stories I Ever Posted on This Blog!

Terrificon 2018, BONUS ~~ A "Comical Wednesday" Post

I've done several long "Comical Wednesday" entries lately, in spite of the fact that most of my readers aren't comic book fans (unlike myself). So instead of long-winded multi-part CW posts on various subjects, I'm going to trytrytry to keep the posts fairly short. Well, for a while, anyway.

Let's see how I do.

Back in Part Three of my series about Terrificon 2018, I showed two photos (courtesy of my friend John) of the line for writer/artist Jim Starlin. I'm going to show those photos again, and follow each with some close-ups, and my own smart-ass comments. Here goes.

First is one part of the line to see Jim Starlin.

There are many convention attendees who are what are called "cosplayers" (costume players). If you've ever seen any local TV news coverage about a nearby convention, you've seen cosplayers. That's pretty much the only type of person they interview, so we all look a big loony!

Cosplayers dress up as anyone they want to, whether it's a comic character, a movie character, a science fiction character, a character from Japanese anime... the list is endless. Some cosplayers are featured guests with their own tables at conventions! Cosplayers often cross-dress, meaning you may very well see some guy dressed as, say, Harley Quinn!

Harley Quinn

Two Male Harley Quinn cosplayers! (Photo NOT taken at Terrificon!)

Anyway, the following close-up focuses on two cosplayers waiting in Jim Starlin's line. I must admit I have no idea who the young lady in purple or the person in the ringmasterish costume are supposed to be.

And I must also admit, I don't know if this convention-goer in the background of the previous shot is wearing a costume or not!

In a previous chapter, I mentioned that some folks (like myself) bring small stacks of comics or magazines, to have them autographed by one or more convention guests. The next two photos show people carrying what I would call "normal" stacks.

Even this next guy, who seems to be carting around more, evidently has an item or two other than a comic book that he wants signed, or maybe he's got something or some things he purchased at the convention.

Now let's move to another section of the line!

Hm. Looks like this person has a lot of stuff to be signed! Damn!

This trio really caught my eye. I'm not 100% sure if the young lady on your left is wearing an actual costume, but regardless, I really like her look! The orange cat lady outfit is nice, and I thought the Boy Scout uniform was an inspired touch.

Oh, wait. Maybe that kid was a real Boy Scout, one of several? Ya think?

Interesting how many of us comic book geeks wear glasses (as shown in the next photo), innit? Anyway, the short-haired, bespectacled dude on your far right seems to be noticing what I did: The big guy in the middle has a stroller which has probably never seen a child! Instead, it carries items which are much more important to their owner.

Oops. Spoke too soon. There is a child there, but she -- I'm assuming it's a "she," but it could be a boy cosplayer -- has obviously been supplanted in her stroller by what I just described as "items which are much more important to their owner."

And with that, I bid you farewell (well, for today)! Thanks for your time!

P.S. ~~ COMING SOON! (Watch for it!) A Re-Posting of One of the Best (and Longest) Stories I Ever Posted on This Blog!