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Passages of Interest from On the Road

When I was in San Francisco last year, I did what every tourist with the slightest literary pretension does in that town: I stopped by the famed City Lights Bookstore and bought a copy of Jack Kerouac’s On the Road. It’s one of those classics I’ve always heard the cool kids talking about and meant to read myself, but somehow never quite got around to it. Not until last winter, anyhow.

My plan to blog my reactions to the book that defined an influential subculture never quite materialized, naturally, and given how mushy my memory seems to have become lately, I no longer recall many specifics about it. I do remember liking it in general, although Kerouac’s style gave me some problems. The narrative occasionally slips into stream-of-consciousness — never a technique I’ve liked very much — and the beatnik slang peppered throughout is sometimes, well, laughable. (I recognize, of course, that this is an unfortunate result of time, and that when On the Road was originally published in 1957, the language must’ve been fresh and exciting. Sadly, though, it’s been so parodied over the past 50 years that it’s nearly impossible to encounter it today without thinking of silly stereotypes like Maynard G. Krebs — the “G” is for “Walter” — or a hundred cartoons featuring skinny men in black turtlenecks, sunglasses, and berets who snap their fingers a lot.) On the positive side, however, the book has a genuine verisimilitude, and the reader gets the sense of being privileged to experience an unknown subculture through the eyes of an insider, without any filters or censorship. And Kerouac really captures the restless, hungry-to-see-and-do-it-all energy that consumes many (if not all) young people.

Anyway, I bring this up now because I was sifting through a stack of junk on my desk this afternoon, came across my copy of On the Road (which has been sitting there since, oh, February or thereabouts), and saw that it still had all the sticky-tabs I’d placed on passages I found particularly striking. I thought I’d post some of them here, for my own amusement if no one else’s…

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TV Title Sequences: Bring ‘Em Back Alive

Over on his Atomic Pulp blog, Christopher Mills reminds us that Tales of the Gold Monkey wasn’t the only high-adventure series set in the 1930s that ran during the ’82-83 television season. CBS wanted in on the post-Raiders of the Lost Ark action as well (Gold Monkey was on NBC), so they offered up Bring ‘Em Back Alive, starring Bruce Boxleitner as big-game hunter Frank Buck.

Buck was a real guy, a celebrity of the ’30s and ’40s who’d found fame by capturing exotic animals unharmed during a time period when people were a whole lot less sensitive about shooting things, even rare and beautiful things. He wrote a book about his experiences, from which the TV series took its title, and eventually parlayed his celebrity into starring roles in the Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus and a whole string of jungle movies, including an Abbott and Costello comedy (Africa Screams) and a 15-part cliffhanger serial. Now, I’ll be honest and admit that I don’t remember too much about Bring ‘Em Back Alive, but I think it’s probably a fair bet that Boxleitner’s version of Frank Buck didn’t have too much to do with the actual man.

Christopher Mills says that, while Gold Monkey was largely character-driven, BEBA was “more like old Republic adventure serials, with exciting stunts, a likable, two-fisted swashbuckling lead, and action-packed stories.” My memory of it is far less precise, as I said. I mostly recall thinking that Gold Monkey was the better of the two, with higher production values and a cool old airplane to boot (old airplanes being an immediate “value-add” in my book, even when I was 12). Weirdly enough, though, I have always remembered the show’s opening theme, which went a little something like this:

You see, for a couple of years I was recording TV themes by holding my old SoundDesign clock-radio with the built-in cassette deck up to the television speaker and trying not to make too much noise as I depressed the clunky “Play” and “Record” buttons. I must’ve taped several dozen themes from that general time period, all on the same cassette. I can only imagine it would make for an incredible time capsule now. Sadly, and rather unexpectedly given how much crap I’ve managed to hold onto over the years, that particular tape went MIA long ago. But I know that it had the theme for Bring ‘Em Back Alive on it, along with Gold Monkey, Magnum PI, Simon and Simon, Shogun, and a lot of other jaunty tunes that were just perfect for listening to on my Walkman as I rode around town on my old red Schwinn with the banana seat… damn, I wish I still had that tape.

Incidentally, you may have noticed Boxleitner’s co-star in BEBA, Cindy Morgan. She’s probably best known for playing the delectable Lacey Underall in Caddyshack, but she also appeared with Boxleitner in Tron the very same year that Bring ‘Em Back Alive debuted on television. Boxleitner was, of course, the title character, and like him, Morgan played a double role: Lora, the girlfriend of Tron’s User Alan in the real world, and Tron’s girl Yori in the computer realm. Hollywood must’ve been a truly small town back in the day. Morgan is still a lovely woman, judging from the photos on her official web site. It features a pretty nifty collection of photos from all three of her major works, Caddyshack, Tron, and Bring ‘Em Back Alive; the BEBA gallery is here.

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Finally! Gold Monkey on DVD!

gold-monkey_tvguide-spread.jpg

It’s been just over two years since I noted a rumor that the old TV series Tales of the Gold Monkey might be headed for DVD, and now — finally! — it looks like it’s actually happening. TV Shows on DVD.com reports that the series is now available in the UK and Australia, and an American release is planned for sometime in the spring of 2010. Even better — and quite surprising, given that this series lasted only a single year and is nothing more than a cult classic at best — it’s going to include an all-new retrospective documentary and recent interviews with the series’ stars, Stephen Collins and Caitlin O’Heaney, and there may be some other special features from the European release as well.

I can’t tell you all how happy this makes me. As I’ve explained before, Gold Monkey made a huge impression on me back in the day. If you’re not familiar with it, it’s a good old-fashioned adventure story about a dashing American cargo pilot and a cast of eccentric characters who live and work in the exotic South Pacific of the late 1930s. Coming on the heels of Raiders of the Lost Ark, which had been released the previous year, the series was marketed (rather inaccurately, in my opinion) and dismissed (rather unfairly, I think) as nothing more than an Indiana Jones knock-off, but it was a fun show in its own right and deserved more of an audience than it got. I picked up a VHS bootleg of the series several years ago and was very pleased at how enjoyable it still was. You always run the risk when revisiting childhood favorites of discovering that they weren’t what you remember them being; happily, Gold Monkey was pretty much exactly what I remembered. The bootlegs, however, weren’t worth the tape they were recorded on. They appeared to be 10th-generation copies with such a bad picture that I often couldn’t tell what I was looking at, so I imagine viewing a nice clean DVD version is going to be like seeing the show for the first time. I can’t wait…

In a somewhat related note, I see that the ’80s detective series Matt Houston, in which Lee Horsley of The Sword and the Sorcerer played a Texas oil millionaire who solved mysteries as a hobby, may also be coming soon. Which means that pretty much every TV series that’s ever mattered to me is or shortly will be available for me to own, except for The Wonder Years and the originally aired version of WKRP in Cincinnati, both MIA because of costly music licensing issues. Oh, and The Six Million Dollar Man; I have no idea what’s holding that one up. I have to admit, it’s a strange thing to consider, so much of my childhood being out there on the market now. It’s kind of sad in a way, like a long quest is at last coming to an end…

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What Would You Do With an Old Phone Box?

As a bit of an Anglophile and an unrepentant nostalgic, I’ve been bummed in recent years to learn that the iconic red telephone box is fast disappearing from the British landscape. The culprit is, of course, advancing technology — who needs a public phone anymore when everyone is carrying a personal one in their pockets? American phone booths are an endangered species as well, but they don’t carry the same weight of cultural symbolism as their UK counterparts; I doubt anyone identifies an American-style booth with America itself, while, to many people around the world, the red phone box fairly shouts “Great Britain.”

One of the many highlights of my visit to England in 1993 — one of the experiences that drove home the fact that, yes, I was really there, in another country for the first time in my life — was encountering one of those familiar boxes I’d seen so many times in movies and television programs, seeing it standing there on the street fulfilling its function, not a tourist attraction but simply a part of somebody’s everyday life. The thought of them heading for the scrapheap of history brings an inevitable pang.

Fortunately, there are efforts afoot to save at least some of them. British Telecom (BT) has instituted an “adopt-a-kiosk” program that allows communities to buy the boxes for a nominal sum (all of one pound) and then use them for whatever purpose they wish. Some towns elect to keep them functional, with a working pay phone; others have turned them into “street art” or touristy photo spots. But the best idea I’ve run across yet was one small village’s inspired decision to repurpose their local phone box as a tiny lending library. As I understand it, it’s an informal, community-driven operation in which the residents donate books they have read and take ones they haven’t, so the inventory is constantly changing. (I guess it would actually be more accurate to call it a book exchange, rather than a library.) The box has room for about 100 books, as well as CDs and DVDs. The village now has a valuable community resource, the citizens are fully involved, and a little bit of history is still standing. And that’s what I call cool.

Wish this sort of thing happened more often here at home.

Credit where it’s due: I first read about this on Boing Boing. And there’s a more detailed article about the Adopt-a-Kiosk program here.

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Troublesome Lolcat

Man, am I conflicted about this one:

funny pictures of cats with captions
see more Lolcats and funny pictures

It’s an interesting photo and a clever caption, but that egregious apostrophe misuse kind of sours the experience for me. I know it’s folly to expect grammatical correctness from the medium that brought us “I can has cheezburger,” but there are some things I can overlook in the name of humorous representations of hypothetical feline speech and some I cannot…

Sigh. I’m going to go take an ibuprofen now.

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Music Meme

Between the earlier entry on soul music and spending much of the afternoon ripping my CD collection into iTunes (have I mentioned that I finally got around to getting an iPod?), I’ve been thinking a great deal about music today, so it seems like a good time to do this musical meme I stole (yet again) from Samurai Frog
List 10 musical artists (or bands) you like, in no specific order (do this before reading the questions below). Really, don’t read the questions below until you pick your ten artists!!!

  1. Rick Springfield
  2. Linda Ronstadt
  3. The Eagles
  4. Boston
  5. Bonnie Raitt
  6. Bob Seger
  7. Jimmy Buffett
  8. B.B. King
  9. The Bangles
  10. Buddy Holly
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A Little Bit of Soul

As my three Loyal Readers have probably gathered from the handful of entries I’ve written on the subject, my favorite type of music is guitar-based classic rock and the catchy pop-rock of the late 1970s and early ’80s. But this is by no means the only kind of music I enjoy. I was lucky to have a mom who loved a lot of great popular music while I was growing up. She used to begin each morning by placing a stack of LP records on her massive old hi-fi console, a stereo appliance the size of your average sofa (no, really!), which would then play throughout the day, one platter after another. Her main man was Elvis Presley, but she also liked country — the ’70s pop-country crossover stuff in particular — as well as soft rock, what we now call “oldies” from the ’50s and ’60s, and, yes, even disco. (Oh, stop! It was the ’70s, people, and Mom liked to dance.)

As I got older, I naturally started developing my own tastes and I eventually drifted into acts with a much harder edge than she liked — Mom never appreciated the coolness of Boston, for example — as well as genres that she never explored at all. Nevertheless, a lot of her music has stuck with me over the years, including a love of vintage soul. Like every other musical category, “soul” has a somewhat slippery definition, depending on who you talk to; when I use the term, I’m referring to mid-60s Motown, Memphis-based artists like Otis Redding and Wilson Pickett, and early-70s R&B types like The O’Jays, Al Green, and Marvin Gaye. The soul sound I like didn’t survive beyond the mid-1970s, sadly; it morphed into funk, disco, and a lot of other threads I know little about. What’s called “soul” these days strikes me as a degenerate form comprising whiny vocals, bland (or nonexistent) melodies, and hip hop-derived rhythms that frankly set my nerves on edge. The sound of classic soul, on the other hand, has the exact opposite effect. Even the sad songs somehow just make me feel good.

All of which is a very long introduction for a video I ran across this morning. Allow me to present “100 Days, 100 Nights” by Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings:

 

Isn’t that great? Sounds like something Auntie ‘retha might’ve recorded around ’66, doesn’t it? Guess again, though… that’s modern. It’s the title cut off an album that was released in 2007. (The video looks vintage because it was shot using a pair of old TV cameras reportedly purchased on eBay for 50 bucks each.) And its apparently not a one-off gimmick, either, but rather a whole revival, at least on a niche level, of ’60s- and ’70s-style R&B, soul, and funk. Sharon Jones’ label, Daptone Records, claims that its artists “channel the spirits of bygone powerhouses like Stax and Motown into gilded moments of movement and joy,” and its offerings are even available on vinyl.

Much like the classic soul sound itself, this little tidbit of information has made me effortlessly happy.

Thanks to Graywhale, my local independent music chain, for bringing this to my attention. You guys rock!

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Thanks-meme-ing

I should be taking advantage of my day off to write something meaningful, like a short story or a screenplay outline, or notes for a novel I’d like to write, or even just a recap of my DC trip or a half-dozen other blog entries I’ve been putting off, but I’m feeling pretty lazy, intellectually speaking, so I think I’ll just swipe a Thanksgiving-themed meme from Samurai Frog:

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Do They Make the Abductees Squeal Like Pigs?

I had just turned eight when Steven Spielberg’s Close Encounters of the Third Kind was released in the fall of 1977, and I remember being completely freaked out by the commercials for the film. Oddly enough, the image that mashed down so hard on my “primal dread” button wasn’t even in the movie: a POV shot in which we’re flying down a highway at night toward a hill, on the other side of which is a brilliant, mysterious light. I’m sure my Loyal Readers would recognize that image. It was used on the movie’s one-sheet and various tie-in products, and it’s been copied and/or parodied so many times since that I’m willing to bet most people don’t even realize where it comes from. Whenever I run across it today, I experience a warm spark of nostalgia; back in ’77, it scared the ever-loving crap out of me.

The movie, of course, turned out to be entirely non-frightening (well, except for the scene where little Barry gets abducted from his house; that’s pretty scary), but think of how terrifying it would’ve been had the aliens come from, shall we say, a more southernly part of the galaxy….

Close Encounters of the Redneck Kind from Marc Bullard on Vimeo.

Via Sullivan, who somehow manages to find a lot of cool stuff in spite of making upwards of 50 or so political posts every single day. I envy him his blogging time…

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