What an egg-cellent idea!

Here's the great Vincent Price as Egghead from the Batman TV series. It's stuck here in honor of my wife and the fact that she's shaving her head to help raise money for children's cancer research.

Now, here's a shameless plug. The St. Baldricks event is here in Raleigh on March 7. If you'd like to donate (and we'd really appreciate it if you did), you can do it here.

She's also donating her hair to one of those charities that makes wigs for kids who've lost their hair to cancer or some other health issue.

We're really egg-cited.

Hello Kitty Meets The Atlanta Braves

Time for some more Batman TV show stuff.

Found this great shot on a blog out there — and stole it.

Will everyone out there please say a prayer that the Batman TV show comes out on DVD?

Thank you, The Management

Ron Asheton, 1948-2009

I bought my copy of the Fun House LP at The Finest Record Store in Fort Collins, Colorado, just across the street from Colorado State. I lived in Greeley, half an hour away, and I can still see that record sitting in the passenger seat of my VW Rabbit on the drove home.

I was very familiar with Iggy's solo stuff and the first Stooges record, but this one was totally new to me. God, that cover! It was a really scary thing, just daring me to drive home and plop it on the turntable.

Fourteen thousand plays later — after the vinyl, the CD, the boxed set and the remastered CD — it's still a really scary thing. And a big fat contender for the single greatest Rock N Roll record every made. Right up there with Rubber Soul and Pet Sounds.

And still, no other guitar, on no other record, sounds like that.

"Cattle beware of snipers"*

Started out listening to Fun House by The Stooges this morning, with the mighty Ron Asheton on my mind. I really wasn't up to that one, so for some reason I drug out Back To The Egg by Paul McCartney & Wings. I really dug this record when it came out, adding a little edge to the usual Wings thing. Sounds to me like Paul had picked up a copy of Never Mind The Bullocks after cranking out London Town.

Then, to add to the whole deal, I checked out a bootleg of the very last Wings show from Scotland in December of 1979, when they were touring for Back To The Egg. (It's called Last Flight and it's on Vigotone.) The band's next stop was gonna be Japan, of course, but Paul's suitcase took care of that. And that was the end of Wings.

This was the first Beatlesque record I bought new as a full-fledged, card-carrying Beatle geek. Got it the day it came out and played in constantly for weeks and weeks. No wonder it casts such a large shadow across my turntable. Anyway, over lunch, I thought I'd write something intelligent about this record, urging people to drag it out of their vinyl stash and give it another listen. It got slammed back in '79, but I feel it's really underrated — and probably my personal favorite McCartney record end-to-end.

But I found this great article/reappraisal on The Beachwood Reporter site. They take a very informed, yet smartass approach to the record, saving me the trouble.

And I'm still just sick about Ron Asheton.

* That's a line from "Getting Closer."

One Adam Twelve... One Adam Twelve...

Wish I'd been there.

Random stuff off my desktop.

Time for a little digital housekeeping to get some of this random stuff off my desktop so I can find the work stuff that's scattered amongst all this junk.

First and foremost, here's Presley feeding a baby donkey at Amazing Acres Farms. She went yesterday to their Holiday Farm Camp — and had a blast. The coat makes her look a little like an Apollo astronaut, but it was really really cold yesterday. The donkey's name is Domenic, by the way.


Next, a press sheet for an old Batman tray puzzle from the Sixties. Found it on somebody's blog out there somewhere.


Jennifer found this one somewhere. It's Frank Zappa and his parents — at their house. You know, I sure miss Frank. We've still got all that great music, of course, but it's nice knowing there are people out there like Frank walking around and just generally being brilliant.


There's this thing on the Internets somewhere that lets you construct an illustration of a Volkswagen Beetle of any age, in any color, with a number of accessories. I did mine — then stuck a luggage rack on the top.


And lastly, since I can't seem to break my Big Star infatuation these days, here's the four-piece lineup around the time of #1 Record. If you haven't figured it out by now, I really like Big Star.


Told you it was random.

The Big Star freakout continues.

I'm two-thirds of the ways through Rob Jovanovic's great Big Star book, Big Star: The Short Life, Painful Death, and Unexpected Resurrection of the Kings of Power Pop, which I think has been re-issued with a shorter title. Probably a wise move.

The Big Star story is a sad one, filled with missed opportunities (lots), self-destructive behavior (lots and lots), etc. But knowing how this music was made has really aided my appreciation of a band I loved to begin with. It's also thrown me into a big fat Big Star binge, which is not a bad thing at all.

Came across this original promo poster for #1 Record. Very cool. There's a lot of Big Star reposing on eBay these days.

We'll never know how well this poster really promoted the record, since issues with the label and its distributor sunk any chances of success the band had with this album. But this does serve as a fine example of Truth In Advertising: wise men do check out Big Star.

A couple dozen shopping days left till Christmas.

The very rare masterpiece, Big Star's #1 Record, on eBay. (Radio City is just as good.) It's an original Ardent copy from 1972 in near-mint condition.

Something ridiculous like just 5,000 of these were supposedly sold. The CD is playing in my office right now.

"Try Again" (Bell/Chilton):

Lord I've been trying to be what I should
Lord I've been trying to do what I could
But each time it gets a little harder
I feel the pain
But I'll try again

Lord I've been trying to be understood
And Lord I've been trying to do as you would
But each time it gets a little harder
I feel the pain
But I'll try again


At $100, this seems like a deal.

Why'd They Bother?

Battle Of The (Not Much) Bulge.

I love the epic war films of the Sixties. The Longest Day. The Dirty Dozen. Battle Of Britain. Where Eagles Dare (my all-time favorite movie). The big budgets, wide screen, monster casts and roadshow lengths really seem to work in this genre — while they’ll sink films in others (Chitty Chitty Bang Bang comes to mind).

The other day, I happened upon The Battle Of The Bulge on DVD. Three bucks. I’m in.

Growing up with a film-collector Dad, I was lucky to see many of these films on film, actually projected on a screen. But Bulge I only knew from Sunday afternoons on local TV, where it was always a terrible mess. Pacing destroyed by commercials. Camerawork, blocking and composition completely wasted by panning and scanning Cinerama down to 1.33:1 (which is a crime against nature). Sound piped through a speaker the size of a silver dollar. Basically, all its epic-ness totally stripped away.

It’s a lot more impressive now, with an actual attempt to preserve what the filmmakers where aiming for 40 years ago. Color, framing, sound — they’re all near perfect. We get the entrance, intermission and exit music. Actually, it’s beautiful. A first-class presentation of a Sixties roadshow film.

However, the film itself is where the trouble starts.

First, for an epic, it’s not all that epic, taking a massive military milestone that lasted a month or more, and making it feel like a couple dozen guys and an afternoon. Then there are a number of inaccuracies, beginning with American post-war Patton tanks pretending to be King Tigers and the sunny plains of Spain filling in for the snowy forests of the Western Front. Not to mention some of the lousiest process photography I can remember — just look at Robert Shaw sitting in front of his tank column. Shameful.

Guess they can’t all be The Longest Day can they? And since that film’s director, Ken Annakin, gave us this one, it’s doubly disappointing.

All that said, however, I loved it. Tanks. Cinerama. Robert Ryan. Charles Bronson. Telly Savales. Can you think of a better way to spend an afternoon? I sure can't.

We've lost a couple big ones, folks.

First, Forrest Ackerman passed away Thursday night. The editor of Famous Monsters Of Filmland, 4E had a tremendous influence on science fiction and horror films, literature and fandom. From Steven Spielberg to Joe Dante to Rick Baker and on and on, Hollywood is lousy with Famous Monsters readers turned film-makers.

I once had the incredible privilege to tour the Ackermansion, Forry's memorabilia-filled home. In L.A. to see X, my best friend James and I headed over one afternoon. It was Geek Heaven, one of the finest afternoons of my life. The stuff laying around the place was unbelievable: mountains of artwork, the ape model from King Kong (1933), model spaceships from you-name-it, even Professor Fate's submarine from The Great Race.

I snagged the above photo from someone (sorry) because it reminds me of the time I spent with him. Note that he's wearing Lugosi's Dracula ring (the larger one) and Boris Karloff's from The Mummy. He slid the Dracula one on my hand. "With this ring, I be dead," I quipped. Mr. Ackerman, the absolute king of groaner puns, laughed and threatened to steal it. I was honored.

See ya, Dr. Akula. And thank you.

Actress Beverly Garland has also passed away. She was in a slew of great B movies, from D.O.A. (her first film) to The Alligator People to Gunslinger to Not Of This Earth. If it's from the Fifties and she's in it, you're in good shape. Especially if Roger Corman directed it. It'd be easy to call her a "cult actress" and leave it at that, but that belittles how versatile and good she was -- a very good actress in movies that don't usually have very good actresses.

Beverly was a regular on My Three Sons (which is what many people know her from) and appeared in about a million other TV shows. She also owned a hotel in Hollywood.

And Bettie Page is in a coma.

Calling All Creature Geeks!

There's this blog I check out every once in a while, John's Forbidden Planet. It's always got some incredible old movie poster art and stuff. Check it out. Frequently.

This morning, I can across this on there: an actual color photo from The Creature From The Black Lagoon (1954). John says he did a little color-correcting on it, which I thank him for.

There are very very few color photos of the Creature around. These were shot for Life magazine, and it turns out you can buy them. Pretty neat. And just in time for the holidays!

While I'm on the subject of old monster stuff, Famous Monsters Of Filmland's Forrest Ackerman isn't doing very well. Love ya, 4E!

Feel A Whole Lot Better

The other night, Thursday to be exact, we went to see Chris Hillman and Herb Pedersen. It was a nice contrast to the heaviness of last week's jury duty. Ick.

Of course, Hillman was in two of my favorite bands, The Byrds (above) and The Flying Burrito Brothers. Pedersen has played with about everybody who ever did the country-rock thing — I'm a big fan of the records he did with The Dillards (Copperfields and Wheatstraw Suite).

Thinking about Hillman, I realized what a huge influence he's had on my appreciation of Country Music — adding to the Johnny Cash fandom I inherited from my Dad. The Byrds' and Burritos' covers lead me to the Louvin Brothers, Buck Owens, Hank Snow and on and on. And for all that, in addition to masterpieces like The Notorious Byrd Brothers and Sweetheart Of The Rodeo, I can't thank them enough. And I'm sure there's plenty of other alt-country fans out there who were educated the same way.

Lately, I've been all over those Sundazed mono mixes of the first four Byrds LPs. When it comes to mid-60s rock, people, mono's where it's at.

A few tools, an old VW, and a whole lot of "what the hell?"

Sitting around the courthouse yesterday, I trolled the many Volkswagen restoration sites and blogs out there. Came across this, which someone scanned outta Mechanix Illustrated.

My bug, a '74, is yellow. I won't take the color of this bitchin' camper as some sort of sign — and start making with the hacksaw. But this is a very cool thing.

However, I bet getting it up I-77 into Virginia would be one long, slow, white-nuckle ride. Note the aerodynamic windshield.

Does this make me Commissioner Gordon?

Here I sit in the "jury lounge" of the Wake County Courthouse, nursing this laptop through some very terrible wireless signals — all in an attempt at doing some work while waiting to be called to some courtroom downstairs.

Thought I'd put this overdue Halloween picture up. Months ago, Presley wanted to be the Pink Panther, so Jennifer started sorting out how she was going to pull it off. It was going to be very very hard. (Last year's masterful Herbie The Love Bug set the bar very very high.)

Next, Presley wanted to be a flower. Easier than the Pink Panther, for sure.

Then she came to the realization that she should be Mickey Dolenz of The Monkees. Huh?

Let's see, one of those shirts with the weird yoke, a drum with the Monkees logo and a curly wig? Would that do it? And would any of the other kids wandering around Cary, North Carolina, have a clue as to who she was? And do we really care? She'd certainly get points for originality — and maybe a few more for out and out weirdness.

But in the end, she settled on Batgirl, as seen below.

No crimes were solved, but much candy was secured. And the Batarangs absolutely refused to stay in her utility belt.



We went to the Museum Of History which had a special Halloween thing going on. A TV crew was there and Presley/Batgirl somehow ended up on TV.

I love these things.

Where's a fried bologna sandwich when you need one?

On the way to work yesterday — at my new job — I dropped Jennifer and Presley off at the NC State Fair. After lunch, I left the office and joined them. By the time I got there, they'd milked a cow, seen a buncha animals, walked miles, etc. They're huge fans of the Fair, and spent about 10 hours there all-told.

I snapped this picture of Presley on the Ferris wheel (that's Dorton Arena in the background). As you can see, she was a little uneasy about the whole thing. Guess heights aren't her bag.


When we got down, a guy from the News & Observer approached us. He was pointing his camera at us as I was pointing mine at Presley. We appeared on the N&O site this morning.


The whole thing is a bit more documented than I think was really necessary. But it was a fun day, even though I never found the fried bologna sandwich place Mark Brumback told me about.

Oh, and Presley won a stuffed bear and a weird doll that plays some crazy song in some crazy language.

Paul Newman, 1925 - 2008

The shot's from HARPER (1966). That's the one-sheet to the right. It's my favorite Newman film, and it pointed me to one of my favorite writers, Ross MacDonald.

Paul Newman was, and still is, a yardstick we could all use to measure cool. And he made it cool to care about other people, which we should all be grateful to him for.

We're losing these guys at a pretty distressing clip. What are we gonna do when all the cool guys are gone?