I feel a little sheepish about admitting this, but I no longer remember what I was going to write my column about tonight. At one point, I think I really had a pretty good idea for one, and sort of remember even pitching the idea, but, boy, it's gone now.
And the thing is, let's face it, I'm an older gentleman and then some. and there's a very good chance I'm finally losing my brain completely, but really, I shouldn't look at it like that, because, man, what am I going to do, shoot myself? No! You get up, you shuffle along, you try to make the best of it, even though you know you can't win, you're going down, you know your body is in serious decline, times ten, really, I mean, it's obvious, I'm done. I'm old, and tired... hell, I can't even remember...
I remember I called Douglas and said I definitely had something going, it's an idea that will be no sweat to write, a natural for the paper and quite a human interest story at that in the way the girl finally comes to accept the cat after Johanna gets lost in the fire, even though technically, it's not even her cat.
I'm also upset because I'm in Florida at my crazy parents' house and using their stupid Mac and can't find the damn spell check which could be embrawrassing. See? Crrp!
Damn, what was it, though? I can remember all the little things I was going to add to my central conceit, but absolutely have no trace of what the headlining notion might've been. Hmph.
As long as I'm here, though, and faced in your general direction, I would like to observe: regarding "Celebrity Apprentice", quick, blow up all these people now while we've got them all in one room, before any more if 'em slip out (we already missed Andrew Dice Clay, and we might never get a chance to blow him up with a bunch of other people this annoying again.)
Opportunity is knocking, people! They must film this somewhere; just find out where, and bring bombs.
Again we learn that celebrities are the worst, most relentlessly nasty slime around, but it never hurt this bad. I actually sort of wanted to know which one got kicked off, but I already had to take about a half hour off in the middle of the show because the people were just SO awful, and then I got back in, figuring I'd catch the last fifteen minutes and see who got booted, so I watched again for about ten minutes and I really had only five minutes to go to find out who got the ax and I COULD NOT DO IT.
By the way, I consider myself a person who can watch ANYTHING. Literally. At the Manor, we have the TV on at all times, partly for enjoying, but just as much for bludgeoning, and covering up the relentless yapping of the Kelp Hounds, black as night, dark as pitch, senselessly howling deep into the night, and you know, we both enjoy it. Mrs. Kelp, still ravishing at 26, of course, has her "progrums", as she says, and they last all day and all night, but do mask the noises of the other animals, which is all to the good.
And I can watch all of them. I can watch "Will and Grace" without even breaking a sweat. I almost enjoy some of ABC's daytime soaps. Oprah, Dr. Phil -again, celebrities, horrible people I am sworn to despise, but I pretend I like them for my wife's sake, and no one is the wiser. If they had a show called "Where's My Stitches?", I would be able to watch it. "Carry My Broach" -I could watch that, too.
I only got beat once. "Orange County" was the one that broke me down. We watched on DVD, a whole bunch of them in a row, and I did, I watched them, a whole season, but I totally drew the line at Season Two. It was the same as trying to wait for the end of "Celebrity Apprentice"... I just couldn't go another step. Like a Spartan with about eighty spears in him, I finally collapsed.
We've all had similar experiences, and you know, now that I think about it, I'd kind of like to hear yours. If you're so idle and bored that you'd like to consign another few minutes of time that could've been used for something positive to oblivion, then by all means write to me here at Le Codder. Describe to me the occasion on which a television hurt you the most. It may've been one too many episodes of "Cannon", or a particularly difficult "Three's a Crowd". Or, who knows? -even a passing relative. There's so many possibilitities (damn this keyboard!)
I know you haven't gone unscathed, and we can help! Well, there's only really one of "us", and no, we can't actually help, but we would if I could
Tell us your story: write a letter (about watching TV! What could be more perverse?)
to me at: Hard Luck Tales Of Miserable Viewing '09, Box 113, Eastham, MA 02642. And if anyone does, I promise to read it, right here in Le Codder, although not necessarily aloud if I think it's scary.
We thank you.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Antoinette Rules!
A belated happy Mardi Gras (or whatever you call it a week or two later in french) to one and all, even as we all try to act normal after receiving the terrible news that the Empress of the Universe, Mrs Manaugahide, and one of the last Real Baby Dolls, of course I could only be talking about the one and only Antoinette K-Doe, is dead, way too soon, the youngest sixty-six year old I ever met. As some kind of symbolic gesture that we're all still struggling with, she accepted her new assignment on Fat Tuesday, Mardi Gras Day itself, the last day of revelry, a brief but massive heart attack having prompted her decision early in the morning. No one would've thought she'd have had it that way.
You have to assume she would've put it off until Ash Wednesday if she could have, because the widow of the legendary performer and personality Ernie K-Doe (the original hit singer of "Mother-in Law", "Certain Girl" "Ta Ta Ta Ta Ta Ta Te Ta Ta", who was, coincidentally. the Emperor of the Universe, not to mention Mr. Maunaugahide) loved Mardi Gras, and Mardi Gras loved her back. Together, they embodied all the earthy wonder of N'awlins in ways so simultaneously elegant, primitive, charming, and hilarious that the world could only marvel. They were also both very much the glorious figments of their own imaginations.
So great were their powers and their concentration that when Ernie died, in 2001, he only missed a handful of jobs before going back to fulltime, as Antoinette quickly acquired an Ernie K-Doe mannequin, which she outfitted with a little speaker in its chest and Ernie's clothes, jewelry, and wig. Darned if in no time Ernie the II wasn't working just as many dates as the real Ernie ever did, and spending just as much time in their bar, the Mother-in-Law Lounge. holding court while relaxing between engagements. (The last time I saw him there, he had no hands -they were out being manicured. At the time, I didn't even ask, but later on, I wondered about that a little.
Now, I once bowled with Ernie K-Doe. In fact, I even shared the stage with him at Tipitina's one time, and he was a delight (And, by the way, if it weren't for Ernie's having had one, the Chandler Travis Philharmonic would've never had their valet, as Fred Boak learned everything at the feet of Ernie's man, during a flood -but that's another story.) Anyway, the new Ernie is ok, -you can definitely tell the difference, but it's better than no Ernie at all.
Years later I saw a play, again in New Orleans (of course), this time in the downstairs room of the Mid-City Rock and Bowl, that was at least in part a biography of both Ernies (man and mannequin), in which Antoinette starred as her own mother, Ernie's "Mother-in-law" of legend. About midway through the play, the mother-in-law, well portrayed by Antoinette until this point, morphed somehow into an older woman, who obviously had never been in a play before and didn't know any of the lines; still, she gamely soldiered on, supplying a few muted words of some kind whenever one of the other actors seemed to be asking her a question. After the scene had gone on for four or five minutes, she wandered off, and the next time we saw the character, it was again played by Antoinette. Later on that night, during the part of the night when the audience and performers dance to some records, and consumed by curiosity, I asked Antoinette why her character had changed in mid-stream. She replied matter-of-factly that she had received a call on her cell phone, and one of her friends had filled in for her while she was taking the call.
My head is swimming with Antoinette stories, and I didn't know her well at all. One thing I can tell you is that she was soooo cute! Also that she leaves a huge hole in a city with too many already (luckily, despite murder, flood, and devastation, it's still a magic city.)
And so energetic! When she first chose Ernie from the crowd of available suitors (not all that long ago, either, as they became a couple around 1990), he was a washed-up, occasionally unruly alcoholic, but she somehow got him back up and running with a vengeance. And the merchandising! I have plates, pillows, and even a toilet paper holder bearing his (and, sometimes, Antoinette's) likeness(es.) And not only did Ernie keep working after his death -he even ran for mayor, and, I'm told, did quite well.
My sister, Nurse Ticky Travis, was (you guessed it) a nurse at Charity Hospital in New Orleans for many years, and attended Ernie when he was dying, and there got to know Antoinette, who she remembers as staying by Ernie's side for days on end in a rumpled pink poodle skirt, bobby sox, and ponytail, trying to coax him back to life with the threat that "the nurse is coming to fool with Charlie." She was sure she could rouse him with this strategy, as Charlie was their nickname for (as Alex Haley might put it) his maleness, but even that didn't do it. For his part, Ernie, largely unconscious, still wore his maximum impact jewelry and Louis XV wig on his death bed.
The city (and his young wife) threw him a hell of a wake, with Baby Dolls, Skeletons, and every conceivable local music luminary you can think of (including Allen Toussaint, Jean Knight, Walter "Wolfman" Washington, (the usually reclusive) Barbara George, Davell Crawford, and Monque-d, not to mention the backup band of your dreams) -and this was just for the wake! And don't worry: Antoinette sold out her funeral, too.
Ernie's funeral was also a party and a half. My sister's hospital was very relieved that they had been able to recover Ernie's body in time (it had turned up missing for a time during it's stay in the morgue as Antoinette secured a burial site, eventually settling on St. Louis Cemetary #2, noted in the "Haunted New Orleans" Tour website with the following: "You don't even want to think about visiting St. Louis Cemetary #2 -it's in a very rough neighborhood. Pass it by." Hey, I can take a hint...
So much more: Antoinette appreciated Ticky's care at Charity so much (which made sense: Ernie had always said that he was "the greatest boy-child ever conceived at Charity Hospital", and always considered himself a Charity baby) that she held up Ernie's huge funeral a day to wait until my sister could make it; Antoinette at the Mother-in Law during Katrina, ready and willing to fight off invaders; Antoinette in infant gear at Jesse Hills' funeral, reviving the "Baby Doll" tradition; but maybe most of all, Antoinette at the Mother-in-Law Lounge, dispensing free drinks, red beans and rice, gumbo, even tiny little glasses of free champagne when Obama got elected, with the cutest, friendliest smile....
She was a dynamo, and a generous person. She'll be missed big-time.
You have to assume she would've put it off until Ash Wednesday if she could have, because the widow of the legendary performer and personality Ernie K-Doe (the original hit singer of "Mother-in Law", "Certain Girl" "Ta Ta Ta Ta Ta Ta Te Ta Ta", who was, coincidentally. the Emperor of the Universe, not to mention Mr. Maunaugahide) loved Mardi Gras, and Mardi Gras loved her back. Together, they embodied all the earthy wonder of N'awlins in ways so simultaneously elegant, primitive, charming, and hilarious that the world could only marvel. They were also both very much the glorious figments of their own imaginations.
So great were their powers and their concentration that when Ernie died, in 2001, he only missed a handful of jobs before going back to fulltime, as Antoinette quickly acquired an Ernie K-Doe mannequin, which she outfitted with a little speaker in its chest and Ernie's clothes, jewelry, and wig. Darned if in no time Ernie the II wasn't working just as many dates as the real Ernie ever did, and spending just as much time in their bar, the Mother-in-Law Lounge. holding court while relaxing between engagements. (The last time I saw him there, he had no hands -they were out being manicured. At the time, I didn't even ask, but later on, I wondered about that a little.
Now, I once bowled with Ernie K-Doe. In fact, I even shared the stage with him at Tipitina's one time, and he was a delight (And, by the way, if it weren't for Ernie's having had one, the Chandler Travis Philharmonic would've never had their valet, as Fred Boak learned everything at the feet of Ernie's man, during a flood -but that's another story.) Anyway, the new Ernie is ok, -you can definitely tell the difference, but it's better than no Ernie at all.
Years later I saw a play, again in New Orleans (of course), this time in the downstairs room of the Mid-City Rock and Bowl, that was at least in part a biography of both Ernies (man and mannequin), in which Antoinette starred as her own mother, Ernie's "Mother-in-law" of legend. About midway through the play, the mother-in-law, well portrayed by Antoinette until this point, morphed somehow into an older woman, who obviously had never been in a play before and didn't know any of the lines; still, she gamely soldiered on, supplying a few muted words of some kind whenever one of the other actors seemed to be asking her a question. After the scene had gone on for four or five minutes, she wandered off, and the next time we saw the character, it was again played by Antoinette. Later on that night, during the part of the night when the audience and performers dance to some records, and consumed by curiosity, I asked Antoinette why her character had changed in mid-stream. She replied matter-of-factly that she had received a call on her cell phone, and one of her friends had filled in for her while she was taking the call.
My head is swimming with Antoinette stories, and I didn't know her well at all. One thing I can tell you is that she was soooo cute! Also that she leaves a huge hole in a city with too many already (luckily, despite murder, flood, and devastation, it's still a magic city.)
And so energetic! When she first chose Ernie from the crowd of available suitors (not all that long ago, either, as they became a couple around 1990), he was a washed-up, occasionally unruly alcoholic, but she somehow got him back up and running with a vengeance. And the merchandising! I have plates, pillows, and even a toilet paper holder bearing his (and, sometimes, Antoinette's) likeness(es.) And not only did Ernie keep working after his death -he even ran for mayor, and, I'm told, did quite well.
My sister, Nurse Ticky Travis, was (you guessed it) a nurse at Charity Hospital in New Orleans for many years, and attended Ernie when he was dying, and there got to know Antoinette, who she remembers as staying by Ernie's side for days on end in a rumpled pink poodle skirt, bobby sox, and ponytail, trying to coax him back to life with the threat that "the nurse is coming to fool with Charlie." She was sure she could rouse him with this strategy, as Charlie was their nickname for (as Alex Haley might put it) his maleness, but even that didn't do it. For his part, Ernie, largely unconscious, still wore his maximum impact jewelry and Louis XV wig on his death bed.
The city (and his young wife) threw him a hell of a wake, with Baby Dolls, Skeletons, and every conceivable local music luminary you can think of (including Allen Toussaint, Jean Knight, Walter "Wolfman" Washington, (the usually reclusive) Barbara George, Davell Crawford, and Monque-d, not to mention the backup band of your dreams) -and this was just for the wake! And don't worry: Antoinette sold out her funeral, too.
Ernie's funeral was also a party and a half. My sister's hospital was very relieved that they had been able to recover Ernie's body in time (it had turned up missing for a time during it's stay in the morgue as Antoinette secured a burial site, eventually settling on St. Louis Cemetary #2, noted in the "Haunted New Orleans" Tour website with the following: "You don't even want to think about visiting St. Louis Cemetary #2 -it's in a very rough neighborhood. Pass it by." Hey, I can take a hint...
So much more: Antoinette appreciated Ticky's care at Charity so much (which made sense: Ernie had always said that he was "the greatest boy-child ever conceived at Charity Hospital", and always considered himself a Charity baby) that she held up Ernie's huge funeral a day to wait until my sister could make it; Antoinette at the Mother-in Law during Katrina, ready and willing to fight off invaders; Antoinette in infant gear at Jesse Hills' funeral, reviving the "Baby Doll" tradition; but maybe most of all, Antoinette at the Mother-in-Law Lounge, dispensing free drinks, red beans and rice, gumbo, even tiny little glasses of free champagne when Obama got elected, with the cutest, friendliest smile....
She was a dynamo, and a generous person. She'll be missed big-time.
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