Stuntology

You don't have to be bored when the power is out, the cable is disconnected, or the wireless goes down. All you need is the book, The Best of Stuntology, by Sam Bartlett. The stunts range from the silly (eating lettuce like a lizard) to the weird (fatigue-based phobia removal) to the amazing (nail-balancing stunt) to the annoying (plastic wrap over the toilet bowl).

I've only tried a couple of the stunts, but I have read all of them twice. I love his self-taught drawing style, which is perfect for a subject that was self-taught as well.

And indeed, the stunts do work. Years of research went into the making of this book. Clearly, if there's a degree program for stuntology, Sam has earned a Ph.D.

I recommended reading the instructions all the way through before trying them. Personally, I avoided stunts that ended with the following:

"...and then they will want to hit you."

"You might want to check out the mop situation before doing this."

"Run."

No wonder the author's blurb includes the statement that he "has been kicked out of restaurants throughout the United States." Depending on which stunt you are talking about, either these restaurants need to lighten up, or Sam had it coming. I'll give him the benefit of the doubt.

Note: This review was done from The Big Book of Stuntology, Stuntology Press, 2007. 97% of these stunts can be found in the Workman Press edition, The Best of Stuntology, which came out this year. Both books are compilations of stunts from his 'zine, The Journal of Tuneology and Stuntology.

The Best of Stuntology
by Sam Bartlett
Workman Press, 2008

Available from Amazon

Yes, it can be done!
Here I am, balancing 13 nails on the head of a nail.

Videos on YouTube:

• Stuntology--Interview with Sam Bartlett
• Stuntology--Crazy Examples from the Book

Sam's a great musician, too. I highly recommend the album, Evil Diane, also available from Amazon, as well as his web site: www.sambartlett.com/

Another note: "Evil Diane" is an anagram for Evie Ladin. "Linguine Jam" is an anagram for Julie Mangin.

Stray Shopping Carts

I forgot to write something about this book, and tonight I told someone at a gallery that I had. So, here's the info about the book, so I don't look like an idiot. http://www.amazon.com/Stray-
Shopping-Carts-Eastern-
America/dp/0810955202/

"Songs That Will Live Forever -- Hundreds of All Time Favorites"

Dated November, and probably published in 1950, this is a dubious, yet strangely entertaining magazine. I'm not sure about their choice of songs. Who can forget "Keep Your Skirts Down, Mary Ann," and "(As Long As You're Not in Love with Anyone Else), Why Don't You Fall in Love with Me?."

>> Read entire article <<

Advice for the Ages

When the dating gets tough, the tough go to the book store and buy an advice manual. My money’s on Miss Abigail’s Guide to Dating, Mating, and Marriage: Classic Advice for Contemporary Dilemmas. Calling upon the wisdom of the ages (her collection of 1,000 advice books published between 1822 and 1978), Miss Abigail (otherwise known as Abigail Grotke) answers your questions, adding twenty-first century commentary for good measure.

You might need that contemporary perspective, because my reaction to some of the advice from her collection ranged from “oh, how quaint” to “things haven’t changed that much” to “it’s time to go out and starting burning our bras again!.” Of course, sometimes I just had to laugh: “Have you ever felt like a young aviator going out to test his spurs?” Apparently the mixing of metaphors was more acceptable back in 1937.

Miss Abigail does not act superior. Not only does she present the quizzes from advice manuals gone by, she even shares her own scores with the reader. You don’t feel so bad for scoring badly when Miss Abigail admits having done even worse. I mean, who knew that wearing a thrift shop dress to a party was Taboo, or that being conservative in your politics would contribute to your popularity?

Maybe the answer to your problem isn't in this book, but you'll have fun looking for it, and learn a little social history at the same time. I even learned a new word: bumptious. You might even know someone who is bumptious.

Miss Abigail’s Guide to Dating, Mating, and Marriage: Classic Advice for Contemporary Dilemmas. By Abigail Grotke.
Published by
Thunder's Mouth Press, 2006.

• Based on her web site: www.missabigail.com
• Available from Amazon.com

Now available in German!

Utopia...or Bust!

This book is a sequel to one of my first tacky treasures, Philip Garner's Better Living Catalog. My review (which follows this entry), written several years ago, was tough in cheek, since I hadn't actually used any of his products. Part of the charm of the book was the juxtaposition of optimistic ingenuity with a state of denial of the sheer impossibility of the items. Yet his ideas stand the test of time: in this era of high gas prices, who wouldn't like a mini-car built from a grocery cart. Urban dwellers are often warned of theives targetting iPods, but they wouldn't dare steal the Woofer, which was basically a boom box strapped to a dog's back.

In Utopia...or Bust!, Garner becomes a bit more theoretical in his approach (or more surreal, depending on your point of view). Witness the "Waterpicasso," which blends great art with a mundane task. He predicts huge moving sidewalks connecting major cities, with the suggestion that "a sidewalk that doesn't move isn't worth its weight in cement." Clearly, this is a man ahead of his time. The final section of the book is a group of rough sketches of ideas that one might expect to see in his next book, such as the zoo-kini and the Laz-R-Boy contact-disintegrator toilet. But given that it's been over twenty years since the publication of Utopia...or Bust!, I wouldn't hold my breath.

Garner, Philip.
Utopia...or Bust!: Products for the Perfect World
New York: Delilah
Communications, Ltd., 1984

Waterpicasso
(Garner's brief analysis of Picasso's Guernica is not to be missed)

Better Living

Some may follow Martha Stewart, but when it comes to better living, nothing has changed my life like Philip Garner's Better Living Catalog. In gratitude to Mr. Garner, I'm prepared to give away some of my most precious secrets. The impeccable personal hygiene I am able to maintain camping at old-time music festivals (despite water shortages) is thanks to "Shower In A Can," the "refreshing soft water shower in an aerosol can." My fabulous dance stylings had their genesis when I acquired the "Dance Instruction Shoes," which feature a pair of women's pumps and a pair of men's wingtips fused together at the toes. "A foolproof method for learning even the most complex steps. You dance as well as your partner immediately, regardless of previous experience or sense of rhythm."

Garner, Philip.
Philip Garner's Better Living Catalog:
62 Absolute Necessities for
Contemporary Survival.
New York: Delilah
Communications, Ltd., 1982

The Doc Stock Banjo Method in Ten Easy Lessons

The Doc Stock Banjo Method was a handmade booklet that Jim Rosenstock gave to me in 1986 when I told him I wanted to learn to play the banjo. The sage advice contained in this booklet has influenced my banjo playing from the beginning. It was published in The Daily Clog in 1987 and 1990.

In the early days of the Internet, I innocently posted this banjo manual by Jim Rosenstock to a bluegrass listserv. In retrospect, I should have known it would travel the world over via the Canonical List of Banjo Jokes. My main regret is that the version that has been propagated was bowdlerized by someone uncomfortable with the drug references (see Chapter 5). In my opinion, the drug references were part of its charm.

There's no way I can call back the text I submitted, but at least now I can prove that I am in possession of the original artifact, and can show the author's intent.

The Doc Stock Banjo Method in Ten Easy Lessons
(or, "Any jerk can play the banjo, so why not you too?")
by Jim Rosenstock

Songs in the Key of Z

While researching the music of The Shaggs, I came across a book called Songs in the Key of Z. Its author, Irwin Chusid, has totally nailed the concept of a tacky treasure when applied to music. He has also produced a two-CD recording of examples of what he calls “outsider music.”

The music represented is diverse, and it isn’t hard to imagine a group of individuals listening to the songs and coming up with completely different favorites. So, I’ll just share with you a few of my favorites, for what it’s worth.

“Curly Toes,” artist unknown. This is an a capella striptease song by a woman with a Southern accent, who bellows the praises of her “mighty fine man” while removing her black panty hose. I’m convinced that the melody was stolen from one of those Appalachian songs that can be traced back to England, but the lyrics must have been ad libbed. And therein lies much of the song’s tacky charm.

“Lift Ev’ry Voice and Sing,” Shooby Taylor. This man, known as the Human Horn, is a scat master with his own vocabulary. When he gets into a song, his unbridled enthusiasm either makes you laugh or smile with admiration. He just doesn’t hold back on the “shraw daw,” the “pwiddley doo dot,” or my personal favorite, the “poppy poppy poppy poppy doppy doppy doppy doppy,” which is a sure sign that he’s in the zone with his music.

“Cousin Mosquito #1” and “Cousin Mosquito #2," Congress-Woman Malinda Jackson Parker. This former member of Liberia’s equivalent of Congress was an independently wealthy eccentric who recorded her own music. Two songs on the compilation contain her efforts to inform the public of the disease-spreading potential of the mosquito. #1 is remarkable because Parker utters the word “cousin” about 204 times during the three and a half minute song. #2 is remarkable because Parker has adapted Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in C# Minor to yet another treatise on the dangers of the mosquito. She only says the word “cousin” about two dozen times in this song, which is more than twice as long as the first one. Go figure.

“Walking on the Moon,” Lucia Pamela. The way she sings about it, the moon sounds like a great place. And she should know...that’s where she says this song was recorded. Like many of the songs on this CD, it lacks a certain musical proficiency that you expect from a recording artist. But the song is so charming, I like it anyway.

The book is a fascinating read, as it raises a number of questions about mainstream entertainment industry. Some of the musicians’ work is the product of their own mental illnesses, and Chusid acknowledges the potential for exploitation in the presentation of their music. But he never stoops to making fun of his subjects. For example, I came away from the book with a new appreciation of Tiny Tim’s talents, something I didn’t expect to get out of the book. At first, I listened to the music with curiosity. But lately, I find myself playing some of the songs just because they are so wackily wonderful.

Irwin Chusid
Songs in the Key of Z: The Curious Universe of Outsider Music
Chicago: A Capella Books, 2000.

Various Artists
Songs in the Key of Z, Vol. 1-2
Audio CD on the Cherry Red label, released in 2005

The Secret Museum of Mankind

What a strange and mysterious book. It’s full of grainy black and white photographs, depicting indigenous people from all over the world. There’s no running text; it’s just pictures and captions, one after another. And what captions! Negative cultural stereotypes abound in these capsuled annotations to each photograph. I hesitate to put in text that can be googled the biases and condescension I found. I found particularly insulting the comments on women’s fashion and appearance.

“Stylishly gowned and coiffured, this young lady has charms exceptional among women of [ethnic group withheld] origin, who are usually very unattractive and have lamentable lack of taste in dress.”

“Forsaking her native costume which would better become her, she deems herself at the height of graceful achievement in what, elsewhere, might pass as a tablecloth.”

On music, the commentary is not much better.

“Most of the tribes of the [region withheld] are devoted to music, and many are the strange devices that come under their category of musical instruments. These natives of [country withheld] have apparently expended much imagination upon their inventions, but, judging from the somewhat pathetic expressions on their faces, the weird noises produced are not altogether satisfactory.”

A simple photograph of a native on horseback provokes what seems to me an unwarranted attack on an entire ethnic group.

“Of their many, old formidable qualities the [ethnic group withheld] retain but few; their extraordinarily fine horsemanship has, however, in no way diminished – undoubtedly due to their inherent laziness, for they appear to be unwilling to use their own legs.”

The book is divided into “five volumes in one,” although there is no evidence that this was ever published in any other form. In fact there’s hardly any evidence at all of who published it at all. It’s my guess that Secret Museum of Mankind was published sometime between the two World Wars. Rumor has it that the photographs are almost all pirated from legitimate sources such as National Geographic Magazine in an attempt to capitalize on the sometimes less than scholarly appeal of the depiction of half-naked native women, strange body modification practices such as tattooing and scarification, and bizarre religious practices such as flagellation and frenzied behavior. The lack of publication information must have made it difficult to sue the publisher for copyright infringement. The only publishing information in the entire book reads, “New York, Manhattan House.” I have personally searched the files of the Copyright Office at the Library of Congress, and can find no further information about this book. Of course, if one’s entire publication consists of pirated content, what’s the point of copyrighting it?

More than fifty years after its publication, the book still fascinates. It must have been an extremely popular book, because it is still fairly easy to acquire an original copy on eBay. A paperback reprint was published in 1999, and can be found on Amazon. The book and its title inspired Pat Conte to use it for his series of CDs on ethnic music. For me, the interest in the book is not so much in the pictures as in the ludicrous captions. And I have to wonder how many of the cultures depicted in the book still exist today?

What makes reading the book such a unusual and sometimes exasperating experience is the lack of both an index and pagination. With hundreds of pages and even more photographs, it’s impossible to find a specific one unless you’ve flagged the page somehow. As Churchill once said about Russia, this book is a “riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma.” Happy reading.

Secret Museum of Mankind
New York: Manhattan House, n.d.

Click on the images to read the captions below them

Another

and another

and yet another

one more

Philosophy of the World

Imagine an album of songs with badly written lyrics, sung by a nearly monotone singer, and accompanied by people who can't even tune their instruments, let alone play them, and you have an idea of what The Shaggs album is like. Make no mistake...these are not avant garde musicians with a sense of irony. They are just a trio of young girls trying to fulfull their father's dream of being a rock band promoter. It's amazing that they got as far as the studio, much less actually recorded. As bad as the girls sounded, Dad could not be dissuaded from the project. "I want to get them while they're hot," was his answer.

Much has been said about this band, which is to pop music what Ed Wood was to film. It's as if aliens from another planet found these instruments and made noise with them with no sense of music at all. The electric guitar player doesn't even get the basic "bum-titty, bum-titty" rhythm of backup guitar right; she plays "titty-bum, titty-bum" accompanied by a clueless bass player, and a drum player who launches into wild, arhythmic solos for no apparent reason.

Yet I have to say the music is strangely compelling. I found it hard not to be charmed by the utter naïveté of it all. It's not for everyone's taste, though. I played a cut from the album at a recent social event. At first, people streamed into the room from all directions to find out what the awful noise was. Many left after hearing enough (usually about 30 seconds will do), but one of the people who stayed behind actually asked to hear it again.

You can find out more than you'll ever want to know about The Shaggs by exploring http://www.shaggs.com/, which features an MP3 of my favorite song from the album, "My Pal Foot Foot."

Official Shaggs Web Site: http://www.theshaggsonline.com/

The Shaggs
"Philosophy of the World"
Rounder Rooser Label, 1980
(Re-release of the original
1969 album)

Front cover enlarged

Back cover

Dear Dead Days

This book, which I discovered as a teenager working in a public library, was an early inspiration to my tacky work: It contains a few of Addams' hilariously macabre cartoons, but most of the book is a bizarre collection of public domain photographs (Many from the Library of Congress’ Prints and Photographs Division), maudlin Victorian-era etchings, old advertisements of justifiably forgotten products, and accounts of disasters, freaks, and everything one would normally want to keep in the closet about one’s family. The jacket describes this book as his “...outrageous assault on nostalgia. No one could have killed it more effectively – or hilariously.”

The captions, if there are any, are completely deadpan. A photograph of a crowd of people climbing on the remnants of a train wreck is titled, "Souvenir Hunting." All is presented at face value, with no commentary. The freakish pictures speak for themselves, which is why I used to check the book out from the public library over and over again during my two-year tenure at the Wheaton Library.

Charles Addams must have had a fascination with weirdness that fed his art, just as a fascination with tackiness has fed mine.

Charles Addams
Dear Dead Days
New York: Putnam, 1959

More pages:
An unusual horse
A very tall man and his parents
A product to prevent premature interment
Brain surgery
Souvenir hunting
A girl and her gator

Crappy to Happy

The only really tacky thing about this book is the cover and its title. Other than that, it's a sweet little book of soothing wisdom. Written by a 40-something new age woman, it dispenses good advice in a breezy, light-hearted, and sometimes downright funny manner.

I like the way the author is unabashed about her lack of outward success, which would normally disqualify her from writing a book such as this:

"I no longer have a job to fall back on and I'm not in a relationship. My bank account is dwindling down to pennies and I have a rinky-dink car with more holes than a golf course. My happiness is obviously not circumstantial -- yet I'm truly happier than I've ever been."

This is one advice book that doesn't dish it out in a know-it-all fashion. And you just have to love the graphic designer who put the pig's rear end near the word "crappy." Sheer genius.

Crappy to Happy
by Randy Peyser
Boston: Red Wheel, 2002
Purchased 2004 at
Pulp on the Hill

What is Chindogu?

The Japanese have formalized the creation of tacky treasures into something called Chindogu. It means to create something that appears initially to answer a human need, but almost immediately fails, sometimes comically.

There are many hilarious entries in this book, including tiny mops for cat's paws, so they can help clean the house and a hat with toilet paper dispenser on it, for people with bad colds. But my favorite, and one I wish would catch on, is the one for people who fall asleep on the subway. It's a shade that you can pull over your face for privacy, but it also informs others around you with the words, "I'm sleeping. Please wake me when the train reaches Union Station."

101 Unuseless Japanese Inventions
by Kenji Kawakami
Gift of Carolee Rand
November 2003

Lifestyles of the tacky yet "glamorous"

Nothing has ever demonstrated the concept of "you've come a long way, baby" for me more than this tome on "glamour" photography that was published in the exact month and year of my birth. Perhaps this book may be redeemed by its technical information about photography. However, the amount of condescension per page toward the female gender outweighs any benefit it may provide. I was thinking about highlighting the offensive parts of this book, but I began to realize that I would have to swab entire pages with my yellow marker. Clearly, it would have been more efficient to dip the whole book into highlighter ink.

Let's let the editor speak for himself:

"On only one point would I like to be dogmatic. you will notice that there are no pictures by women in this book. I have a deep personal conviction that only men can take exciting pictures of women. To take exciting pictures of women by showing them at their feminine best you have to stimulate them and this is generallly a man's doing."

It would be most entertaining to hear the gay/lesbian/bisexual community weigh in on that statement! Even I, a straight woman, take exception at that remark.

But it gets worse. Later, he clarifies the woman photographer's role. In a section entitled, "It Helps To Be A Man," we read that:

"I say 'men' because since the dawn of time, the best paintings, sculptures and photographs of the eternal female have been made almost exclusively by men. There have been a number of good female photographers but most of them have specialized in shooting children, men, skyscrapers, sharecroppers, and women's fashions, not women."

Don't you just love that backhanded compliment to the work of Dorothea Lange?

Just when I thought I'd read the worst, I came across this gem:

"The successful glamour photographer, then, should not only sincerely feel that Woman is Man's ideal of beauty and have the inclination to interpret this beauty in warm and inviting and exciting terms. He must also be able to mold what Aristotle described as woman's passive clay. For as the great philosopher said, "The courage of man is shown in commanding; that of woman in obeying ... As the poet says, "Silence is a woman's glory.'" So women, Silence! We're now going to talk about you."

Well, excuuuuuuse me! I may not be the photographer's ideal of beauty, but you don't see me being talked into giving myself a wedgie or letting a man clothespin my sweater behind my back!

Chapter Eleven, Posing the Model; I. The Psychological Aspects of Posing contains the following statement that might even make Mark Eden howl:

"There breathes no woman with soul so dead that she will not subconsciously swell with pride at the sound of a compliment. 'Flattery unflattens,' a photographer once told me. 'A compliment can help increase the bust size by as much as two inches.'"

I could have left the book out lying in the field at Dixon's Furniture Auction, to be hauled off eventually to the dumpster. Somehow, I'm glad I retrieved it, if only to work it over like this. I feel better, more empowered, already.

Bakal, Carl, et al.
How to Shoot for Glamour
San Francisco: Camera Craft Company,
November 1955
"Picked up" at Dixon's Furniture Auction
in Crumpton, Maryland
July 2003

Secrets of the trade

How to give yourself a
world-class wedgie

When stuffing your bra
with cotton just isn't enough

And just to ramp up the tackiness level a little bit more, here are a couple of images, that appear in the front and back of the book. I wonder what message he was trying to send with these? These are of Gwen Verdon in "Can Can."

All My Life for Sale

Read the full story of this art project, through which I acquired my Jesus Night Light (pictured on the front cover, no less). This may have at first appeared to me as performance art (a.k.a. art by wiseasses), but in reading the book, I find it an interesting form of memoir created by the mosaic of the mundane things a person owns. I was fascinated as he auctioned off his family's Christmas presents, the recounting of which informs the reader of his amazingly blended family.

Also touching was his honesty, as he reveals the secret of 'zine publishing (find a friend with a key to the university departmental office copier), and his father's failure to recognize his son's talent (giving him back one of his presents under the pretense of believing he'd "left it behind"). Equally stunning was his admission that he almost ran off to Las Vegas to get married (I thought that went out in the 1960s). For someone who's barely 30 years old, John is amazingly out of touch with modern times. Speaking as someone who's always been a bit out of step with the mainstream, I can appreciate his work. And you can, too, if only to read about my contributions to his project on pages 158 and 204.

Freyer, John D.
All My Life for Sale
New York: Bloomsbury, 2002.

The Gallery of Regrettable Food

My first reaction to this book was, where did he find my mother's recipe for Jell-O salad? Then I realized that for my generation, the baby boomers, memories of awful food is a part of our heritage.

So, instead of revulsion, feel nostaligia at the revival of such treats as Vienna sausages in aspic, cabbage heads stuffed with ground beef, tongue rolls florentine, and more. My suggestion: wash it all down with a Hawk Shot.

Lileks, James
Gallery of Regrettable Food
New York: Crown Publishers, 2001

Irreproducible Results

In this paper, the researcher proposes an experimental model to discern the effects of marijuana on humans which overcomes the traditional methodology relying upon laboratory rats. To quote from the article,

"Since we cannot actually observe image formation 'inside the heads' so to speak of rats (or humans for that matter), findings concerning mental response can only be a valid as the isororphism [sic] between the actual mental activity and the experimental apparatus designed to reflect such activity."

Whatever. The revolutionary experimental model involves releasing rats into a maze, whereupon the researcher, having smoked a little weed, makes observations upon the rats' behavior in the maze.

"...with apparent suddenness, my attention was shifted to a different rat who was moving stealthfully through the maze but with incredible slowness. It seemed an hour passed while he moved through but two corridors of the maze, never hesitating, never looking back, with a sincerity of purpose resident, I am sure, in only the highest quality of laboratory rat. This was indeed a beautiful rat..."

Certainly, this model is as revealing as anyone could want as to the effects of marijuana on human behavior. Not that I would know personally.

Haggerty, Lee J.
"An Experiemental Design in the
Study of the Effects of Marijuana
upon Human Behavior."
Journal of Irreproducible Results,
v. 27, n. 3, 1981.
p. 21-22.

The Journal of Irreproducible Results
is still publishing, the year 2002
being its 48th year.

Know It All

Already, I feel smarter. Without this book, I would have never known that Ben Franklin invented the harmonica, that the violin has seventy parts, and that the head of a banjo is made of parchment (which should be cleaned with art gum, by the way).

And that's just in the chapter on music. The 5,000 questions and answers in this book cover all sorts of topics, including agriculture, hygiene, etiquette, celebrities, weights & measures, and more.

Of particular interest to me was this entry in the chapter on memorials:

Q. Where is Rushmore Mountain and what memorial is to be inscribed there?

A. Rushmore Mountain is in the Black Hills near Rapid City, South Dakota. Gutzon Borglum, the noted sculptor, is to carve gigantic images of Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, and Roosevelt on the side of the mountain.

You gotta love an author who understands the importance of Big Heads.

Frederic J. Haskins
Answers to Questions
A Cross Section of Human Curiosity
and General Knowledge
New York: Grosset Dunlap, 1926
Purchased March 2002 at
Mount Rainier Antiques,
Thrift, & Salvage

These guys are bad...
really bad.

This album is so amazingly bad, it's an automatic tacky treasure. How bad is it? The entire album contains hastily written parodies of old folk songs containing pro-Goldwater and anti-Kennedy sentiments.

Although it is supposed to be a funny album (if you were a Republican), the humor is rather lame by any political standard. It was probably put together prior to the election, but after the JFK assassination, since the only Kennedy mentioned by name is Bobby. The code words for the administration include "left-wingers" and "Harvard bunch." Clumsily inserted into traditional folk songs, you get "Hang Down Your Head, Left Wingers" to the tune of "Tom Dooley," and an amazingly awkward sounding "Get Along Home, Harvard Bunch," to the tune of "Rockingham Cindy."

As if this album weren't enough of an insult to any listener's intelligence regardless of political persuasion, there is a laugh track and an applause track on this album. The laughter explodes at all the wrong moments, which means either they didn't actually do this album live, or they did, but all the people in the audience were insane. For example, one of their biggest laughs is "Whatever happened to Soapy Williams" "Soapy Who?"

The applause track sounds like it came from a sold-out performance at Carnegie Hall, which seems unlikely, since these guys probably couldn't pack the local McDonald's even if they were giving away free Happy Meals.

Considering our recent electile dysfunction, those of us whose candidate lost can console ourselves with the fact that we have a better sense of humor than Republicans, both now and 36 years ago.

The Goldwaters
Sing Folk Songs to Bug the Liberals
33 rpm vinyl record, circa 1964.
Received as a birthday present from my brother, Frank, November 2000

To the tune of "Grandfather Clock":
They've been in there all this time
and they haven't done a thing
that they promised that they
were going to do.
So the people got together
and made up their minds
that they're going to try somebody new.

'Cause the clan that's in there now
They have let this country down
And they know that their time
is running out.
They'll be stopped short
never to win again
'cause Barry's moving in.

[sung twice; apparently they couldn't think of anything else clever to say]

Why Not Eat Insects?

Why not, indeed. If you were to read Mr. Holt's excellent treatise, with its mellifluous Victorian prose, you would be convinced, too.

"What a godsend to house keepers to discover a new entrée to vary the monotony of the present round! Why should invention, which makes such gigantic strides in other directions, stand still in cookery? Here then, mistresses, who thirst to place new and dainty dishes before your guests, what better could you have than 'Curried Machafers' -- or, if you want a more mysterious title, 'Larvæ Melolonthæ à la Grugru?'"

When I was an undergraduate student, I spent a lot of time with entomology students at the University of Maryland. Their idea of a good time was passing around live hissing cockroaches from Madagascar at the dinner table. Entomology students are a peculiar lot. I did learn this: if a guy tells you his dissertation is about carrion beetles, you do NOT want to look in his refrigerator. Or eat at his house.

Vincent M. Holt
Why Not Eat Insects?
Originally printed 1885.
Reprinted 1967, 1969, 1973, 1978.
E. W. Classey Ltd., Faringdon, Oxon

Can You Kazoo?

This album saved my musical reputation. All my life I'd been told that the kazoo was not a musical instrument. It started in high school, when I assembled a group of my classmates to play their choral parts to the school song on kazoos. Sister Virginia was not amused. Then, in college, I performed a duet of Bach's Two Part Invention in C in the lobby of the music school with a fellow music major. The dean stormed out of his office yelling, "Stop that garbage! Stop that right now!"

After I graduated from the University of Maryland, but before I launched my incredibly successful career as a librarian, The Temple City Kazoo Orchestra released the album, "Some Songs," on the Rhino Record label. Issued on sickly green vinyl, this 12-inch 45 r.p.m. featured only four songs. I cannot describe the feeling of relief knowing that I was not the only musician in the world rendering classical music on the kazoo. TCKO's performance of Richard Strauss' Also Sprach Zarathustra, juxtaposed with Led Zepellin's "Whole Lotta Love" and two disco numbers that I will not name, spoke of genius bordering on insanity.

By the time the album came out, I was already involved in therapy to discover why I had chosen to play an instrument so reviled as the kazoo. Despite the revelations of the Temple City Kazoo Orchestra, I eventually gave up the kazoo to play something more socially acceptable -- the banjo.

Temple City Kazoo Orchestra
"Some Songs"
Twelve-inch 45 r.p.m. vinyl record
Rhino Records, 1978

Some selections of this album are now available on "Tales from the Rhino," which I purchased from Amazon.com