Saturday, June 27, 2015
Stark House Strikes Again
Stark house is best known for its great double-novel reprints of classic paperbacks. Now they're starting to publish regular-sized paperbacks, starting with a reprint of one of the very first Gold Medal books. Great stuff!STARK HOUSE PRESS: John Gearon, better known to readers as John Flagg, was born in 1885 in Chicago, Illinois, and educated in Englewood, New Jersey. Leaving school in his senior year, he travelled throughout Europe and the Near East. He became a radio script writer for the Office of the Coordinator for Inter-American Affairs, later working in a literary agency and as a journalist. With Louis Bromfield, Gearon co-wrote a Broadway play set in Paris in 1935. He published his first novel, The Velvet Well, in 1946—filmed by Jacques Deray in 1978 as A Butterfly on the Shoulder—followed by a series of thrillers for Gold Medal Books in the 1950s under the name John Flagg. These include six books featuring post-war agent, Hart Muldoon. Gearon died in 1970.
A Review of Interest (To Me, Anyway)
Blogs by Glen glenebisch@comcast.net on AuthorsDen.com: Bill Crider, HALF IN LOVE WITH ARTFUL DEATH
Comedian Jeff Ross Roasts Female Prisoners!
This video was made in the Brazoria County Jail. Brazoria County is, of course, where I live. The video is definitely NSFW!
Comedian Jeff Ross Roasts Female Prisoners!
Link via Neatorama.
Comedian Jeff Ross Roasts Female Prisoners!
Link via Neatorama.
Friday, June 26, 2015
Phil Austin, R. I. P.
Contactmusic.com: Austin passed away after suffering an aneurysm at his home in Fox Island, Washington on 18 June (15), according to the New York Times. He also battled cancer up until the time of his death.
The comedian was best known for playing the role of private investigator Nick Danger for The Firesign Theater comedy troupe, which he co-founded in the 1960s.
Dissipated? Really?
Obama’s Clementa Pinckney eulogy: A week ago, Barack Obama looked dissipated and dejected.
A Little Story
My first college roommate was a disaster. I'm sure he was a fine fellow, but he and I didn't get along. He was an ex-Marine who didn't believe in studying. He preferred to go places in the evening and come in during the wee hours (or sometimes late the next morning) after having had a wonderful time in some place I was still too young to enter (legally, at least).
I got along a lot better with the guy across the hall. He was an English major like me, and he wasn't too fond of his roomie, either. So as soon as the first semester ended, we ditched our roomies and moved in together. We remained roomies for the rest of our college careers and stayed in touch after we graduated.
When I returned to Austin to graduate school, he was still around, dating a girl in one of the sororities whose house was just down the street from Parlin Hall, the building where I had most of my classes. We'd get together a couple of times a week for lunch or just to have a Dr Pepper and talk. Later on I was the best man at his wedding.
The years went by, as years do, but we stayed in touch. I congratulated him on the adoption of his two fine children. I commiserated with him during his divorce. When Judy and I went to New York for the Edgars in the late '80s, he was living in Princeton. He drove to our hotel, took us to Princeton, and gave us the grand tour.
More years went by. We talked on the phone fairly often, and one day when he called me a few years ago, he was crying. He said he had to tell me something and that I was going to hate him. I told him there was no danger of that, and he said, "Bill, I'm gay." I said, "So? What difference does that make?"
He'd known he was gay even when we met. He said, "Back then it was something you had to hide. You couldn't even talk about it, much less admit it." He said a good many other things, too, and I thought about what a strange, hard life he must have had, feeling that he could never admit who he really was. I thought about all he'd done to try to conceal the truth and how brave he was to admit it at last.
As for me, I'd suspected the truth for years. Judy and I had even talked about it, but I was like him, in a way. I didn't know how to ask him. It's not the kind of thing a small-town Texas guy like me asks a friend.
So I'm thinking about my friend today and wishing he were still here to celebrate the SCOTUS decision. Telling this story is my little way of celebrating for him. What a different life he'd have had if only we hadn't been so backward all those years ago.
I got along a lot better with the guy across the hall. He was an English major like me, and he wasn't too fond of his roomie, either. So as soon as the first semester ended, we ditched our roomies and moved in together. We remained roomies for the rest of our college careers and stayed in touch after we graduated.
When I returned to Austin to graduate school, he was still around, dating a girl in one of the sororities whose house was just down the street from Parlin Hall, the building where I had most of my classes. We'd get together a couple of times a week for lunch or just to have a Dr Pepper and talk. Later on I was the best man at his wedding.
The years went by, as years do, but we stayed in touch. I congratulated him on the adoption of his two fine children. I commiserated with him during his divorce. When Judy and I went to New York for the Edgars in the late '80s, he was living in Princeton. He drove to our hotel, took us to Princeton, and gave us the grand tour.
More years went by. We talked on the phone fairly often, and one day when he called me a few years ago, he was crying. He said he had to tell me something and that I was going to hate him. I told him there was no danger of that, and he said, "Bill, I'm gay." I said, "So? What difference does that make?"
He'd known he was gay even when we met. He said, "Back then it was something you had to hide. You couldn't even talk about it, much less admit it." He said a good many other things, too, and I thought about what a strange, hard life he must have had, feeling that he could never admit who he really was. I thought about all he'd done to try to conceal the truth and how brave he was to admit it at last.
As for me, I'd suspected the truth for years. Judy and I had even talked about it, but I was like him, in a way. I didn't know how to ask him. It's not the kind of thing a small-town Texas guy like me asks a friend.
So I'm thinking about my friend today and wishing he were still here to celebrate the SCOTUS decision. Telling this story is my little way of celebrating for him. What a different life he'd have had if only we hadn't been so backward all those years ago.
In That Case, Sir, You Are Free to Go
FOX19-WXIX TV: Police asked Cox about what he was doing in the room and he denied any type of prostitution activities. The report said he told police there was a woman in the room who did not speak English and he was only there to check on her for a friend. Cox reportedly said the woman asked where she could get something to eat.
FFB: Uncle Fred in the Springtime -- P. G. Wodehouse
No book by P. G. Wodehouse is forgotten, but maybe you haven't read this one recently. I have, so I thought I'd remind you to read some Wodehouse if you need a good laugh or if you just want to appreciate a master at work.Have you ever tried to summarize the plot of a Wodehouse novel? It wouldn't be easy, and I'm not even going to try. I'll just tell you that the precipitating incidents. The first occurs at Blandings Castle, where Alaric, the Duke of Dunstable, who could use some anger management training, decides to take the Empress of Blandings (a pig, as seen on the left) away from the somewhat dim-witted Lord Emsworth. The second involves Horace Pendlebury-Davenport, who loses the affections of his sweetheart when he has her tailed by a private-eye, Claude "Mustard" Pott. The sweetheart is Valerie Twistleton, sister of Pongo Twistleton, who decides to enlist his uncle Fred to straighten matters out. Uncle Fred, who is, like Odysseus, never at a loss, is always at his best in the springtime, or so he believes, and the game is afoot, with impersonations, misunderstandings, and more complications than any three other books written by lesser mortals. At one point even Uncle Fred is momentarily boggled. But only mometarly, for in the springtime he is always able to scatter sweetness and light.
If you've read Wodehouse before (as who hasn't?), I don't have to tell you how amusing all this can be, especially when told in Wodehouse's impeccable prose. If you haven't read Wodehouse before, what are you waiting for?
Thursday, June 25, 2015
Uh-Oh
Arnold Schwarzenegger confirms Twins 2: Triplets, starring Arnold Schwarzenegger, Danny DeVito and Eddie Murphy, is apparently set to go ahead after all...
Anthony Sydes, R. I. P.
The Hollywood Reporter: Anthony Sydes, a child actor who played Peter in the 1947 classic Miracle on 34th Street, has died. He was 74.
Patrick Macnee, R. I. P.
BBC News: Actor Patrick Macnee, star of The Avengers TV series, has died in California at the age of 93.
The Briton, best known for playing John Steed in the 1960s television series, died at home with his family at his bedside, his son Rupert said.
Proofreading -- A Dying Art?
Daily Mail Online: Congress wrote that health insurance subsidies under the Affordable Care Act could only go to Americans sho cought insurance on exchanges 'established by the state'
The Dirty Secret of a Legendary Rare Book
Yesterday, Jeff Meyerson, a frequent commeter here, sent me a link to a review of a new movie called 7 Minutes. I was reminded of Irving Wallace's The Seven Minutes, a novel that has no connection to the movie, and looked up the novel on the 'net. That's how I came across this fascinating story.
The Dirty Secret of a Legendary Rare Book
The Dirty Secret of a Legendary Rare Book
Wednesday, June 24, 2015
Journalism
Woman Who Thought She Was Black Finds Out After 70 Years She’s White : Her and her four siblings were taken by the state of Missouri after Daisey Beagle fell 30 feet to the ground in a trolley accident.
First It was the Thin Mints Melee . . .
. . . and now it's the Spat over chicken, biscuits leads to daughter’s arrest
Hat tip to Jeff Meyerson.
Hat tip to Jeff Meyerson.
Traffic accident in Australia ends 40-year-old mystery in Florida
Traffic accident in Australia ends 40-year-old mystery in Florida: Death comes to everyone, even those — like Raymond Grady Stansel Jr. — who have been dead for 40 years.
Donald Featherstone, R. I. P.
The Two-Way : NPR: If you've got a plastic pink flamingo on your lawn, give it a pat on the back. The man who designed the lawn art, Donald Featherstone, has died. He was 79.
Hat tip to Scott Cupp.
Hat tip to Scott Cupp.
First It was the Thin Mints Melee
NY Daily News: Florida man Dick Oranges bit a store employee and swung a knife at him during a confrontation over stolen clothing, police said.
Tuesday, June 23, 2015
The Last Shred of Credibility Disappears
Rock Hall Scandal as One Third of Nominating Committee Dismissed | Showbiz411: Thanks to Billboard for reporting this story first: 16 of the 42 members of the nominating committee have been dismissed. Most or all of them have been there a long time and represent the bloc of voters who still lobby for early rock and R&B pioneers who’ve been overlooked or purposely dismissed out of hand for induction.
George 'Foghorn' Winslow, R. I. P.
Hollywood Reporter - The Hollywood Reporter: George “Foghorn” Winslow, the child actor with the unusual deep, raspy voice who couldn't resist Marilyn Monroe’s “animal magnetism” in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, has died. He was 69.
Free for Kindle for a Limited Time
QUICK (A Hunter Kincaid Novel Book 1) - Kindle edition by Billy Kring. Mystery, Thriller & Suspense Kindle eBooks @ Amazon.com. A sadistic killer roams the shadow world of undocumented aliens, and the first glimpse law enforcement has of him is when tough, dedicated female Border Patrol Agent Hunter Kincaid watches through binoculars as the killer shoots his own partner for being too slow, then crosses the Rio Grande into Mexico. Two thousand miles away, South Florida Homicide Detectives John Quick and Randall Ishtee investigate the machete murder of an undocumented female, and a slender thread of evidence stretches all the way to West Texas.
John and Randall join forces with Hunter to track down the monster. What they don't know is that the killer is aware, and his focus is now on them, like a Great White as it speeds toward three unsuspecting swimmers.
Harold Battiste R. I. P.
LA Times: Harold Battiste, the New Orleans-born composer, producer, arranger and musician who put his distinctive stamp on the city's music for several decades, died Friday after a lengthy illness, his son Harlis said. He was 83.
I'm a Snob
I quit reading two articles today because I decided that if the writers couldn't write with precision, then what they had to say wasn't worth reading. I stopped reading one article when I came to a bit of wisdom about what "the Muslim hoards did when they invaded Spain." If the writer doesn't even know that a hoard is different from a horde, why should I give him my attention? And then I saw this: "While locked in a cell, the man's lawyers petitioned for his release." Possibly this sentence really means what it says, but I doubt it. At any rate, I didn't read any further to find out. I'm a snob.
Dick Van Patten, R. I. P.
People.com: Actor Dick Van Patten, perhaps best known as patriarch Tom Bradford on the '80s series Eight Is Enough, has died. He was 86.
Hat tip to Jeff Meyerson.
Hat tip to Jeff Meyerson.
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