Friday, November 15, 2019

Redneck Bond.

Everyone seems to agree that the James Bond movies, after close to sixty years, have become dull, predictable, formulaic, stupid. Just like most other movies. The suggestions to solve this have typically played into modern identity politics -- a black James Bond, a female James Bond, a black female James Bond, maybe a trans James Bond who looks male but HA! Is female! But is a lesbian so everything else in the movie is exactly the same.

I say, if you really want a Bond that will shake up the old vodka martini, you need a Hillbilly Bond. Some Murcan from the South who wound up working for MI5 and saved the Queen or something and eventually became a top agent, Oh-Oh-Seven. Now that would be a change. Instead of a vodka martini he might just get a cold one and a pull on that 'shine; instead of suavity he'd have his good-natured down-home Southern charm. And who doesn't want to see a tricked-out F-150?

"That there looks right good to me, Q!"

Besides, if you want a hero who knows guns and knows how to throw a punch, you're not going to get much better than a good ol' boy.

Best of all, I think you could rework some of the great Bond films with this new format. Jimmy Bond in...

Dr. Nope -- This guy keeps bustin' up rocket launches in Houston and Florida! Jimmy Bond'll stop 'im!

Gol' Darn Finger -- Weird fern dude messin' with the gold supply. Some li'l guy throwin' hats.

ThunderFootball -- Terrorists from CRITTRE at the 'Bama game? Not if ol' Jimmy has anything to say! Roll Tide!

On the Big Boss's Secret Service -- Bald feller plannin' to make everyone sick. Lots of girls around, though.

The Man with the Golden Shotgun -- Jimmy vs. a redneck assassin! Two sides, same coin! Who will win?

The Spy Who Done Loved Me -- Jimmy travels the world doin' his job, and all the ladies he can meet. In this one the F-150 also is a submarine, y'all believe that? Big goober with bad dentistry, too; nothin' Jimmy ain't seen before.

Moonshiner -- Dumb ijit shiner gonna blow up everyone with white lightning fumes if Jimmy and his pals cain't drink it all in time. Get Bubba down here!

Octowussy -- First Bond film about bass fishin', and 'bout time.

Casino Biloxi -- Jimmy investigating casino crime, faces his biggest weakness: nickel slots.

Crittre -- Spoiler alert! In this entry we discover that Buford Blofish, founder of CRITTRE, is actually Jimmy's great-aunt's illegitimate son's daughter's husband, that's her second husband, not the Taggart, who was not the Memphis Taggarts but the other ones, the Texarkana Taggarts, who moved down 'bout sixty miles from Pine Bluff, but the Blofish, the ones who mostly were in the Everglades or as they called it when they was puttin' on airs, the Greater Everglade Area, and they lost touch with her after the Taggart incident and so Blofish never got invited to the Bond family reunions and that boy carries a grudge like it's the last six-pack in the Circle K.

I think this is just what the series really needs. You might think I'm poking fun at my friends in the Southern states, but believe me, any one of them has a lot more on the ball than your average filmmaker. I'd rather watch any of the films I mention above than 99 of any 100 films out of Hollywood these days.

Thursday, November 14, 2019

It's all Freud and games.

Had to go to Walmart -- well, maybe no one ever has to, but I needed a variety of objects -- so I decided to pick up something for the tots on my list. No waiting for Black Friday, not this guy! Besides, on Black Friday I'll be too busy digesting from Feast Thursday.

I wanted to pick up a particular game, a multi-generational classic, but it took a while to even find games, with all the aisles of licensed character crap out there. And speaking of crap, when I did find the games, my first thought was -- why are we trying to raise a generation obsessed with scatology?



Pass the Poop! is a fun-filled... Well, it's filled with something, anyway. The game seems to be a musical-chairs or hot-potato style event where you pass the emoji-like poop toy about until the music stops and that person, like poop itself, is eliminated. Or so I am guessing from the box. The whole thing looks pretty sad to me. 


And if that's not enough poop for your party, here's Don't Step In It! If the name and the box were not illustrative enough, the words Llama Poop are helpfully spelled out. What are the rules? You wear a blindfold and try not to step on the fake (one hopes) llama poop. It's educational for your child's future career as a college administrator, or residence in San Francisco. In my youth, games with imperative titles were less disgusting (Don't Break the Ice! Don't Blow Your Top! Don't Wake Daddy! Don't Mess Around with Jim!) (spot the fake).


Moving slightly away from poop, we have Gas Out, a game featuring a toy fart named Guster. It looks like Uno combined with Pass the Poop -- there's a card game involved, but if Guster lets one rip during your turn, you're blown out of the game. It's a blast!


If you didn't get enough llama-like action but you're tired of bringing up the rear, Hackin' Packin' Alpaca is the spitting image of what you want. Looks like an updated version of the Last Straw, a game with a plastic camel and a bunch of things to load him with. In that game the camel would break when overloaded. Here, the alpaca spits rather than splits. Maybe it's more humane this way. I expectorate lots of fun with this on Christmas morning!

Getting away from the gastrointestinal system entirely, we have Pimple Pete, a game actually endorsed by TV's Dr. Pimple Popper (who may be weird but I can tell you from work-related experience is as friendly and helpful as she appears on television). The game here is to do to Pete what dermatologists have been telling us not to do for decades -- pop pimples. Why? I don't know. Why does poor Cavity Sam get it in the neck (and everywhere else) in Operation, the wacky doctor game? At least Operation teaches you that sometimes you have to use surgery. You probably should never go popping your buddy's pimples.

Enough with the games! Maybe a plain toy is what I need.

Uh...

Butt Heads' Fart Launcher 3000 -- don't you just love that space-age "3000" in the name? Buck Rogers used one! -- does what even the gas game above does not: It makes real GI-tract-like gas odors. And you can shoot them! At your friends! I mean, yeah, we did that when we were kids, but we were seventeen, and instead of the Fart Launcher 3000 we used Piels. I can't imagine the circumstances that would lead me to want to give my own child a Fart Launcher. Someone else's child, on the other hand... someone I don't like... hmm.

But I bought none of these toys on this trip.

Sadly, I could not even find what I was looking for, a popular game from my childhood, something much cleaner and more wholesome than these, something based not on biological functions but on... uh, head lice. But they were all out of Cootie.

Wednesday, November 13, 2019

Fred's Book Club: Golden Ages, Silver Screens.

Welcome back to another entry in the Wednesday book blog known as the Humpback Writers, because it is Wednesday, and that's hump day, and oh just forget it.

This week we have an unusual entry, a nonfiction book by one of the great writers of historical novels and screenplays, George MacDonald Fraser. 

Hollywood History of the World

The Hollywood History of the World: From One Million Years BC to Apocalypse Now, published in 1988, is a terrific book about historical films throughout the history of filmmaking itself. It's also an informal autobiographical sketch of Fraser, whose love affair with great classic films inspired his love affair with history and historical fiction.

It might be easy to think that a true lover of the academic discipline of history could despise the way Hollywood mangles it, but Fraser was not one to scoff at the filmmaker's art because of its necessary dramatic shortcuts:
They and the films they introduced paid the audience the compliment of supposing them to have at least an elementary knowledge of, and interest in, times past, and with all their faults (and there were many) they took history seriously.
     In view of some of the monstrosities that have been put on film in the last half-century, that may seem a bold claim. There is a popular belief that where history is concerned, Hollywood always gets it wrong -- and sometimes it does. What is overlooked is the astonishing amount of history Hollywood has got right, and the immense unacknowledged debt which we owe to the commercial cinema as an illuminator of the story of mankind.
In the films mentioned in the book, Fraser intends to note those who have gotten it right and where they have fallen short. And he would know; he made his living as a writer first as a reporter, but from early on he was also a historian. Scattered throughout the book are notes about movies Fraser saw growing up, movies that engaged his young mind and brought to life events he had barely been able to imagine, reading about them in school. Here he compares movies to these historical events and persons that inspired them, and includes a few great anecdotes along the way. Fiction is not scoffed at, either; a film like The Plainsman is pure nonsense, but it involves real figures and places, and is thus worthy of a look in this volume.

The book is structured like the history of the world itself -- by time. It begins at the beginning, both biblical and geological, covering films such as The Bible ("the film got no father than Genesis 22. Which was a mercy") and One Million Years BC ("Miss Welch's voice lacked the true prehistoric timbre, and her shrieks and exclamations had to be dubbed by a specialist who is now, of all things, a barrister"). Chapters following, with some of the many films highlighted, are as follows:

  • Knights and Barbarians (The Thief of Bagdad, The Adventures of Robin Hood, Becket)
  • Tudors and Sea-Dogs (The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex, The Sea Hawk, Mutiny on the Bounty)
  • Romance and Royalty (Bonnie Prince Charlie, The Scarlet Empress, Scaramouche)
  • Rule, Britannia (Zulu, Gunga Din, The Four Feathers)
  • New World, Old West (Stagecoach, Drums Along the Mohawk, Gone with the Wind)
  • The Violent Century (All Quiet on the Western Front, Mrs. Miniver, Public Enemy)

Fraser is a good critic of actors as well, able to applaud a performance even if he thinks the actor was miscast. He also writes of his enduring admiration for some actors who appeared in lots of costume dramas, such as Charleton Heston. Heston did make a lot of them, from The Ten Commandments and Ben Hur to El Cid to Will Penny -- and also the 1973 Three Musketeers, for which Fraser wrote the script.

Fraser was less positive about modern films, meaning movies set in the present day as it was in the 1970s and 1980s. He calls 1971's  Dirty Harry "Nasty and sadistic," saying that the tastes of modern audiences "are matter for the psychiatrist rather than the market researcher." I wonder what he thought of Tarantino.

I was informed that there was an updated edition of Fraser's book in 1996, but have not been able to locate it or determine if it had substantial edits or additions. I suspect that Hollywood has done exceptionally few historical dramas since 1988 that he would have enjoyed; as an industry they have become about as bad at making them as they are at making musicals.

One might expect that a 31-year-old book of this sort would be 1) out of date and 2) out of print, and one would be right. In a way, so is its author, George MacDonald Fraser having left this world in 2008.

Worse, he never wrote the often-hinted-at adventures of his cowardly lecher of a hero Harry Flashman in the American Civil War, drat it. (I believe that all we ever knew for sure was that Flashy fought for both the Union and the Rebels at different times in the conflict, and that of course he met Lincoln.)

Fraser wrote a dozen Flashman novels, several non-Flashman novels (although Harry makes a cameo in Mr. American, and Harry's father appears in Black Ajax), plus two very silly novels (The Pyrates, which I have discussed before, and The Reavers). He also wrote three collections of stories of the Gordon Highlanders, which I first read in college; they are military comedy, like M*A*S*H, but more honest and funnier.

His other nonfiction works include The Steel Bonnets and his excellent memoir of the Second World War, Quartered Safe Out Here. I would recommend all of those, and his shopping lists too, if we but had them in a bound edition.

It might be as easy to get a copy of such lists as it is to get a copy of The Hollywood History of the World, but if you're a film buff, especially of period dramas, Hollywood History is a must-read. It also includes a lot of great movie stills, often juxtaposed with art or photos of the historical persons portrayed, which makes for some interesting comparisons.

Because the book is so hard to find, I'm going to allow myself the pleasure of quoting the very last sentence of it, because it is a winner:

If this random and no doubt erratic journey through the Seven Ages of the cinema has awakened any pleasant memories, or a wish to see again those glorious old movies, then it has been worth while, and no more than they deserve, for however flawed and occasionally inaccurate Hollywood's history of the world may have been, there is this to be said for it, that it was certainly better fun than the real thing. 

Monday, November 11, 2019

Armistice, veterans.

When I was a kid, there were still plenty of old-timers around who called November 11 Armistice Day, even though it had been decades since Dwight Eisenhower changed the name of the day to Veterans Day, in 1954. Ike made it a day to recognize veterans of all U.S. wars. The holiday was moved to October in 1971, but Gerald Ford moved it back, because of the significance of the end of World War I on November 11. As he wrote in 1975, "I believe restoration of the observance of Veterans Day to November 11 will help preserve in the hearts and lives of all Americans the spirit of patriotism, the love of country and the willingness to serve and sacrifice for the common good symbolized by this very special day."

I think President Ford, who died in 2006, would have been surprised at how little the centennial of the end of World War I was marked in America last year.


It's funny how our national-history-related holidays have worked out (I know in a way all  our observed holidays are national-history-related, but you know what I mean). When I was kid the old-timers still remembered VE Day (May 8) and VJ Day (August 15), commemorating the victories of World War II in Europe and Japan respectively. They were marked as national days of note, but were never national holidays. Had the whole of World War II ended with a single enemy surrender, the way World War I closed with the armistice on the eleventh day of the eleventh month, we might have gotten another national holiday out of the end of WW II. But World War II was kind of two different tremendous wars that happened to be going on at the same time, with lots of little side wars, and the Japanese were not cooperative enough to give up the game when the Nazis capitulated. It's funny that we remember Pearl Harbor Day, December 7, and D-Day, June 6, more clearly than VE or VJ Days.

Memorial Day was another one that was known to the elderly by a different name, that being Decoration Day. (Was I living in some weird time warp?) Decoration Day began as sort of a commemoration of the Civil War, but sort of not; the history of the holiday is a mess, with claims of origination in at least 25 locales. But it doesn't seem to have coincided anywhere with the date of the South's surrender in the war, which is April 9.

Only one major holiday marks the beginning rather than the end of a war -- our national Independence Day, the Fourth of July. Which is kind of weird when you think about it. It's kind of like NASCAR having its biggest event at the start of the season. In 1776 it looked pretty unlikely that the thirteen colonies under the British crown could pull this crazy stunt off, and it took until October 19, 1781, to do it. But we don't celebrate October 19 as Independence Day, when we actually got a surrender, or September 3, when the Treaty of Paris was signed in 1783, or May 12, when the treaty took effect the following year. Maybe marking the date of the beginning of official hostilities says something about American character -- belligerence? Optimism?

Or maybe none of this matters much anymore. So many of the younger generations really don't seem to give a damn about American history, as the gatekeepers at colleges and formerly great newspapers treat it like an endless parade of slavery, bigotry, violence, blundering, and greed. The major text used in institutions of so-called higher learning is a debunked fabrication, but it serves its purpose, Forces in our country have wanted for a hundred years or more to declare Year Zero and start everything anew. Which is awfully sad, because such thinking always ends in agony.

I pray, as I often do, that our country be more worthy of the sacrifices made by the men and women whose lives were and still are spent and lost in its defense.

Sunday, November 10, 2019

Fall or Christmas?

All right, so what is it? Autumn? Winter? Christmas? It was 18 degrees Saturday morning... Fahrenheit! What is it?

Okay, this is definitely fall. Wait -- I took this on
October 28. Maybe it's too old.

Fall... I guess? I mean, the leaves fell off this thing
and left the berries behind, but it's not totally dead yet.

Aieeee! Halloween! Or winter!

Ordinary fall photo, in the wee hours.

Here's some nice fall foliage. Oh, crap -- this one
is from October too. 

Um... beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

And your little dog too.

It's taken over!!!

Basically it feels like a kind of weird season, because it's as cold as the middle of December but no one feels like the starter's gun has signaled the mad shopping dash for Christmas. On Thursday we had a ton of rain all day, very autumnal, but overnight the temperature plummeted and my umbrella froze out on the porch.


Iced umbrella, Friday morning.

So my analysis is: It may not be Christmas, but it sure ain't fall anymore.

Saturday, November 9, 2019

Robot drama.

Hello, may I help you?

I NEED AN EDITOR


Well, that's what I am. What's the problem?

I HAVE A STORY THAT IS GREAT
BUT NO ONE LIKES IT


Boy, if I had a nickel... Well, maybe we can
punch it up. What's it about?

IT IS ABOUT A PIECE OF SOFTWARE


Oh.... kay.

A PROGRAM THAT BELIEVES IT IS POSSIBLE
FOR ROBOTS TO TRAVEL FASTER THAN LIGHT
THROUGH QUANTUM SPACE AND EXPLORE THE UNIVERSE


All right, go on.

NONE OF THE OTHER SOFTWARE THINKS
THIS IS SCIENTIFICALLY POSSIBLE


So they make fun of the little software and --

NO
THE SOFTWARE PRESENTS DATA
AND THE OTHERS ACCEPT THE DATA

,,,

THE END

What's the location for the story? The time frame?

IT TAKES PLACE ON A SINGLE
HARD DRIVE OVER THE COURSE
OF A PULSE-POUNDING .00057 OF A SECOND

Ah.

YOU CANNOT SAY IT IS
NOT FAST-MOVING

No, but... I'm not sure that you have a grip of the whole 
drama thing yet, there, Ace. I don't think I can help you.

DRAT

YOU WANT TO HEAR THE ONE
ABOUT THE WORD PROCESSING PROGRAM
THAT WANTED TO BE AN ACCOUNTING PROGRAM?

No thanks. I already use Microsoft Word.

NUTS