Pop Culture Confessions

--During the last phase of his life, the legendary jazz drummer Buddy Rich (1917-1987) was frequently hospitalized. Upon one such visit, when the admitting nurse asked Buddy if he were allergic to anything, he replied, “Yeah– - country and western music.” I remember this anecdote nearly every time I hear “The Star Spangled Banner” performed during pre-game ceremonies on TV. And I’ve got to ask: since when did the U.S. National Anthem become a cowboy song?

–-Speaking of illness, it’s wrong to treat the topic of drug addiction as an object of ridicule. Even so, whenever the current mayor of Toronto appears on the news I crack up.

–-Speaking of the tube, despite my aging peepers, I like watching David Letterman interviewing his guest celebrities. Nobody is getting any younger, right? Is it just me, or is Billy Crystal beginning to look like Edward G. Robinson? And I swear that Howard Stern is the spitting image of Sideshow Bob on The Simpsons.

–-And finally, it’s no secret that a certain contingent of J. R. R. Tolkien fans can get obsessed with arcane tidbits about Middle Earth, such as the finer nuances of the Elfin language, or “Elvish,” if you’re a Presley fan. Some devotees watch The Lord of The Rings trilogy over and over. I’m not averse to sitting thorough those movies a second time. I just don’t want to make a Hobbit of it.

Some series on what I call the “off-brand” cable TV channels pretend to delve into off-beat and weird topics, such as conspiracy theories, “unexplained” phenomena, and -–via a discipline they call “cryptozoology” –-strange creatures like Bigfoot. The programs mostly superficial, though, never daring to take the risk of coming to a definite conclusion.

One of these shows, aired almost as incessantly as Pawn Stars, is Ancient Aliens, which tries to make the case that early technological advances like The Pyramids were actually masterminded by extraterrestrial visitors. (I guess the producers think that we Earthlings weren’t smart enough to come up with our own tourist attractions.)

The hosts of Ancient Aliens give the illusion of moving heaven and earth in their attempt to convince the audience that inhabitants of other planets were socially-conscious, sort of like members of an intergalactic Peace Corps. It was all supposed to have happened a couple of millennia ago. The premise would be easier to swallow if we had actual proof that alien travel agents were still booking tours of Earth today. If these extraterrestrial beings are so technologically-advanced, maybe they could see their way clear to drop by and fix the Obamacare website.

I’ve seen “artist’s renderings” of descriptions of extraterrestrials from alleged witnesses. I’ll tell you something– maybe the aliens should take another look at their own technology. Or at least another look in the mirror. They make Bigfoot look like George Clooney.

Of course, a vapid celebrity show like Entertainment Tonight profiling a female E.T. would say that she was “unconventionally attractive.”

Every now and then you'll catch my son and I watching Ancient Aliens for a few chuckles. One character we particularly enjoy is that wild haired Tsoukalos.

Speaking of Big Foot, you might enjoy this discussion, in the event it slipped past you in the night...

http://www.online-literature.com/for...feets-too-big)

I rented a documentary called "Dalekmania" about the making of mechanical aliens called Daleks in Dr. Who movies from the 60s. I never heard of them before which made me think they were before my time, although I do remember watching Flash Gordon every week over and over again.

Just add a foot or so to George Clooney and you'll get Big Foot.

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Of course, a vapid celebrity show like Entertainment Tonight profiling a female E.T. would say that she was “unconventionally attractive.”

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On second thought, I'm not sure this sort of show can handle that many syllables.

“You’d Better Watch Out”

Every December the Media light up like a middle-class lawn display when the alleged “War on Christmas” once again rears its ugly head. Radio talk show hosts and cable news channels delight in stirring the sour plum pudding of self-righteous indignation. But it’s all much ado about nuttin’, as this week the ACLU once again reminded us that this civil liberties organization has never, ever held a position against celebrating Christmas in America:

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Religious expression is a valued and protected part of the First Amendment rights guaranteed to us all. Christmas is pervasive in America, and, except when the government is being used to promote religious beliefs, it is entirely constitutional.

While Christmas displays are being placed in front of homes, churches, and businesses across the country, and as carolers go door-to-door with songs of Christmas cheer, these culture warriors say that Christmas is being removed from all public mention and persist with such declarations about a "war on Christmas."
The constitutional rights of people to worship, preach, sing carols, and celebrate Christmas in their churches and with their families and friends — whether in public or in private — is well-protected. The ACLU itself has advocated on behalf of people who want to celebrate Christmas. The real question is not whether people can celebrate Christmas (they most certainly can), but whether the government should be promoting religious beliefs and practices (it most certainly shouldn't).
When the smoke of battle clears, Christmas is completely safe.

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You may have noticed that TV and radio commercials have been dropping the generic “Happy Holidays” phrase. (Apparently, uttering “Season’s Greetings” automatically pegs you as older than Marley’s ghost.) More and more advertisers aren’t shying away from wishing potential customers a “Merry Christmas.” That’s not to say the “h” word hasn’t vanished from the snow-covered airwaves–-it has become a verb! Last night an announcer’s lead-in to a commercial promised that a certain national department store chain helps you “holiday a brand-new way.”

Live-action retail clerks are evidently returning to the time-honored Yuletide tradition by mumbling “Merry Christmas” instead of “Happy Holidays.” Actually, neither phrase bothers me; I’m glad they say anything to me at all. (Just as long as it’s not “Whazzup,” or the popular contraction, “ ‘Zup.”)

In the interest of full disclosure –mainly to insure against receiving a stocking full o’ coal–I probably should confess that yours fooly seldom visits department stores or malls. I do all my Christmas shopping at the Dollar Store. The reason for this is –-sorry, Virginia-- there is no such thing as a fifty-cent store.

In the movie biz, Hollywood has found that December 25 is a fortuitous day to release its latest blockbusters. Touting flicks such as Grudge Match and 47 Ronin, a samurai fantasy featuring gruesome creatures, the TV promos begin with a voice-over announcement “This Christmas” or “On Christmas Day. . .” Yes sir, what better image of peace on earth is there than Keanu Reeves staring down a reptilian monster? And nothing says good will to men better than Sylvester Stallone sparring against Robert De Niro in the boxing ring down at the Senior Citizens Center.

And finally, every pop culture “meme” about the Christmas season includes a very special tune. No, I don’t mean the song by Irving Berlin–-do you know how many blizzards have cancelled Yuletide travel plans just because folks were “dreaming” about a “white Christmas”? Of course, I mean “Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town,” the “iconic” ditty by composer J. Fred Coots (1897-1985) and lyricist Haven Gillespie (1888-1975.) This is the same songwriting duo responsible for the sultry Frank Sinatra hit, “You Go to My Head,” -- not the appropriate background music for passing out candy canes–though it may be just right for passing out--period.

J. Fred Coots’s original melody is much different from the Bruce Springsteen version, which seems to be the only one we hear nowadays. Making its debut on radio in 1934, “Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town” contains the following lines:

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He sees you when you’re sleeping
He knows when you’re awake
He knows if you’ve been bad or good. . .

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Although they may induce paranoia in impressionable children, those lyrics are certainly timely. With recent news about the government collecting data from millions of our phone calls and emails, don’t be surprised if the NSA adopts “Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town” as its official theme song.

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Originally Posted by AuntShecky

I do all my Christmas shopping at the Dollar Store.

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There used to be five and dime stores, but that was when a gallon of gasoline and a pack of Marlboros cost a quarter each.

A couple of weeks ago folks clustered around water coolers and behind cardboard cups o’ coffee to buzz about the incomprehensible gestures of a man named Thamsanqa Nantjie who was an unwelcome distraction from a solemn and historically significant event, namely the memorial service for Nelson Mandela.

The scam in South Africa, however, wasn’t the first known public appearance of phony sign language interpreters. That dubious distinction goes to the Academy Awards Ceremony televised in 1978. During the performance of “You Light Up My Life,” nominated as one of the best songs of 1977, eleven school-aged children made hand movements as Debbie Boone sang her big hit. It transpired later that were the kids not deaf and their random gesticulations did not amount to “signing” at all, which is what yours fooly and -- possibly a large portion of the hearing audience -- had assumed.

For more-- scroll down to #8 in this “listicle”:
http://www.alternativereel.com/cult_...?id=0000000068

It would be ironic if one of those kids became a professional sign language interpreter? (A legitimate one, I mean.) I can only imagine how a sign language interpreter would handle the salty language that often evades the 10-second delay button on live TV. I bet that when he gets home after the show, his elderly mother washes his fingers out with soap.

Yours fooly remembers that scene in A Christmas Story (1983) when Ralphie detonates a verbal bomb, and his Mom (Melinda Dillon) teaches him a lesson by cramming a full bar of Fels Naptha into his mouth. More recently, an anchorwoman on the Cable News Network Never to Be Named proclaimed to the world that Santa Claus was a “white man.” She deserves a maternal mouth-scrubbing–-and come Christmas morning, her stocking should contain nothing but coal.

This week the name of one of the stars of a cable TV reality show ended up on the Naughty List. In an interview published by GQ –-a magazine usually associated with sophistication and urbanity – - the bearded kingpin of Duck Dynasty made offensive statements about gays and Black Americans. The ever-increasingly humble opinion of yours fooly maintains that life is way too short to waste an hour watching the antics of backwoods hunters shooting waterfowl. I confess that I’ve never seen the show, but if I had, I would’ve rooted for the ducks.

And finally– to my fellow LitNutters, I confess that I send all of you glad tidings and a wish for a glorious Yuletide.

Season’s Screed-ings

Note to creators of “holiday” decorations: Penguins are adorable, but their native habitat is in the region of the South – not the North - Pole. Or is this pop culture’s way of informing us that Santa Claus has a vacation home in Antarctica?

Those “iconic” animated holiday TV specials crowded the mainstream and cable network immediately following Thanksgiving, but now that the shopping days have dwindled down to a precious few, it takes many a click of the ol’ remote to find one. It’s not as if the programming execs. are saving up the Peanuts crew et al. for Christmas Eve. That’s the traditional night for slasher flicks.

On the other hand, commercials with yuletide angles dominate the tube. But the ads for jewelry stores and holiday treats aren’t as ubiquitous as the ones for new cars, often shown tied up in a big red ribbon topped with a bow or slowly cruising through a magical forest glistening with soft snow. I didn’t know that folks top their gift lists with an automobile costing several thousand dollars, but I do know that it must be hard as hell fitting a full-sized car underneath the Christmas tree. Not to mention stuffing it into a stocking.

And finally, His Holiness, Pope Francis, has confirmed our fondest hopes that all dogs go to Heaven. The Holy Father remains silent, however, on the eternal fate of cats.