Big Weekend

Big weekend, working on the Atlanta Fox Theatre projection team for the world premiere of "The Elf on The Shelf: An Elf's Story."

It looked to be a full house of 4000+ happy kiddies, except for me.

No crew elf hats.

That's the last time I curl my toes in the elevator doors. Stupid jingle bells.

100 Things About Me #185

A Lifelong Dream Fulfilled!

I opened for Don Rickles!

10/24/11

100 Things: #1 | Previous | To Be Continued

Off the Wall

Saving Facebook: My Confessions: 

On Technology

Friend Randy
EeEreeeqqqqwqeqqqqqewEreeeeeqqwqwwwwq00bbybhbbb
bbbvkiwewww@eeeewqwwwweeeee#qwweeeeqwqwqqe
wwqeqwqwweweeeeewqwwqqwqwreEuqwqwweeeeeee
eeeqwq

Mike
Randy, that is, without a doubt, the worst email address ever.

Randy
You've heard of "butt dialing"? I "butt posted"! :)

Mike
Eww...

On Hitch's List

Friend Michael
‎"North By Northwest," one of Alfred Hitchcock's most revered films, premiered on this date [July 17] in 1959. Where do you think the film ranks among Hitchcock's body of work?

Mike
Tends to be the Hitchcock I watch most often -- and that says a lot, considering I'm practically roommates with PSYCHO and REAR WINDOW.

On My Radio Pal Bob Middleton's Birthday

Bob, you were certainly the highlight of my radio career. I'd take nothing for those 16 months we partnered on the air each morning. You taught me much, expanded my creativity chops, encouraged me to fake it, hooked me on coffee, never offered me your bacon, failed to get me laid, failed to get me laid with the note from your Mom, never took me to see a Komodo dragon and if I wanted to take the kiddos to see a Komodo dragon, where would I take the kiddos to see a Komodo dragon?--

.... What? What's this? Wait. You're not dead? Shh-- Forget this then. I am not doffing our collective hats. See if I steal any more Bob and Ray with you. And I hired a cummerbund....

Mike
Happy birthday, Bubber. May a crazed holy man behead your PEZ dispenser.

Bob
Thanks, Mike, I now get the senior citizens discount at the Piggly Wiggly. May a crazed pirate leave a peg leg in your chicken bucket.

Mike
May Peg Leg Bates' ghost tap dance his way into your cart and Morse Code your grandmother.

Bob
May Abe Vigoda drool on your stool.

Mike
I hope an amorous wiggly piggly corkscrew-tails your donut pillow.

Bob
May a ruthless weasel force you to back into a cold doorknob.

Mike
Leave our former boss out of this. May you sit on your keys and unlock your lunch.

Bob
May an unruly Mugwump pop a boil on your lip.

Mike
I hope the ghost of Harry Dean Stanton repossesses your carbuncles. And if he's not dead, may he come over and sort through your garage.

Bob
May Moms Mabley drop her last tooth in your sitz bath.

Mike
May Al "Grandpa" Lewis return from the dead with your act.

Bob
May Don Rickles rake your boot.

Mike
May Dudley Do-Right mount your Canadian Club.

Bob
May Rocky the Squirrel fly into your pants.

Mike
Well, thank you very much. That would be ever so delightful; nevertheless, may an amorous moose become your hat tree.

Bob
May a horny anteater lick your sister. So there.

Mike
May The Great Pumpkin appear in your soul patch.

Bob
May a day-old bread truck backfire mold on your hood ornament.

Mike
May Alvin and the Chipmunks Bobsled your colonoscopy.

Bob
"Bobsled your colonoscopy." Mike, you are so bad..

May David Seville speed up your bowel movements.

Friend Alan
I call it a tie!

Incomings

Continued From: "Incomings" and "Incomings"

Oh, goody, pinch me. It's another comedy quiz from radio historian Bob Middleton (a k a Bob Walker). Bob has a box of jokes I wrote three decades ago and he likes to test my memory of such international treasures and gut-busting antiquities, when he's not wallowing in same highly venerated box.

One of the following bits was written by someone other than Mikey. Am I up to the task of fingering it?

May I have the one-liners and the finger, please.

Bob

It's time for that great radio fun game, "Who Said That?"

• Coming up: The Muppet Kidney Chorus does its rendition of "It's Impassable."
  
  
• Things to Do Today:
  
  
• Give a propeller beanie to a rabbi.
  
• Drool excessively in a urologist's office.
  
  
• Lawrence Welk knew his show was canceled when he discovered Tums in his bubble machine.
  
  
• Summer Camp Tip: Avoid camps that have signs of Truman Capote wearing knee pants.
  
  
• Today on TV: Orson Welles and Shelley Winters will discuss noises they consider embarrassing.

Now tell me, who said that?

Mike

This is an easy one. All are mine, except Orson and Shelley, but I'm locating the Febreze, nevertheless.  

Bob

You are right, nipple nose. For your prize, you get a riding weed eater.

Coming up next, our feature film with Charlie Sheen. You will hear Charlie say, "Does this look infected?"

Incomings

Continued From: "Incomings"

Here's another quiz sent to me by Bob Middleton (a k a Bob Walker), my radio buddy, who has uncovered a stack of one-liners I wrote for deejays 30 years ago. Bob likes to test my memory, as I recall or delude, and floss chipmunks.

Bob

It's time to play that enthralling radio game "Who Said That?" Brought to you by the makers of Butt Putty.

OK, here are our items.

• At tax time, avoid going to an accountant named Bugsy.
  
• I gotta hurry home. Today, I replace the snake eyes on my fuzzy foam dash dice.
  
• Doing this show is more fun than tweezing Ernest Borgnine.

OK, it's up to you, our studio audience. Who said that? Mike or [another writer]?

Mike

Thank you. It's great to be on your show. Can we get some soap in the stall? Maybe some cling-free timothy?

Image via Wikipedia

As for my answers, nothing says "Mikey" like "fuzzy foam dash dice" and "tweezing Ernest Borgnine."

The Bugsy joke is not mine; it needs something more like stuttering spats.

Bob

You're right! For your coveted prize, you get a nice buttload of [name withheld, but funny!] Smoke Tartar. And you get a copy of our home game, "Ladies, Grab Your Seats."

You mean "Timothy" by The Buoys?

The Buoys: "Timothy" via YouTube

Mike

timo·thy (tim′ə t̸hē) [via YourDictionary.com]
noun
☆ a perennial European grass (Phleum pratense) with dense, cylindrical spikes of bristly spikelets, widely grown for hay

I'm leaning to publishing these endearingly lovely quiz emails, Bob, with your kind blessings and beer farts. I will delete any incriminating material, specifically the name of [name withheld, but funny!], who, I'm told, is particularly attracted to my bottom. (A lot of that going on around [location withheld].)

Bob

Print away. I would be more than delighted. Did I ever tell you [name withheld, but funny!] never wanted to [field trip withheld].

I can come up with reams of more material. I was cleaning up my spare room and came across your funny stuff. You've got quite a warped mind, my brother.

Mike

No, Bob, you never told me of that particular female peccadillo, but, thankfully, I shall be suitably troubled by it until my dying day and maybe another eternity.

Gulp. You made me swallow my gum. "Cleaning up my spare room."

Come to our house. We have plenty more [to tidy].

More to come...

Incomings

This round of correspondence was initiated by my radio partner, Bob Middleton (a k a Bob Walker), formerly of "Boss Bad Radio."

I kid the Bob.

Bob says of WBAD, "1570 on AM dial, just above the police frequencies."

He's been a Kansas radio favorite for three decades, currently at My 93-1, Hutchinson. Bob once sent me an autographed tumbleweed. It's still blowing east.

I've known Bob from his days at WRAS, WIIN-97, and Z-93, Atlanta. His cat, Pooper, once jumped on my head and I kinda liked it.

As the cleverly branded Mike and Bob, we hosted the morning show at WFOM, Marietta (an Atlanta suburb), 1978-80. One of our popular quotes: "7:14, 39 degrees."

Bob still uses that. I get no checks.

In the following years, I wrote comedy material and published "The Security Blanket," a joke sheet for radio announcers in the United States and Canada. The monthly issues were along the lines of "The Electric Weenie," another comedy source for deejays.

Out of the blue, last week, Bob started asking the hard questions. He had found his wayward box of -- *cough* -- adlibs.

Bob

It's time to play that great radio fun game "Who Said That?" We will tell you [four] goofy lines. Did Mikey say [it] or "The Electric Weenie"?

• I need more taxes like Flipper needs Nair.

• It's so nice out, I saw Mr. Peanut getting fitted with a Polaroid monocle.
  
• Mr. Whipple's ancestors were opposed to squatters' rights.
  
• Weird dentist. He has pin-ups of Marie Osmond's cavities.

OK, which one is not a Mikey quote?

Mike

Golly. The first two are mine and have my rhythms.

I'd say one of the last two is not mine, probably Marie Osmond. However, I am not sure, although I do recall the Mr. Whipple. I'd be so proud to squat. And thanks for squeezing it out of me.

I hope I win some Turtle Wax.

Bob

You're right, MIke! Just for answering our question, you win two used airline tickets to Tallapoosa and some Rice-A-Roni, the San Francisco treat. Now, back to "Catch It and Keep It!"

Mike

So, I wrote the Squatters' Rights bit! Yay, me. ... I'm especially humbled.

More to come...

Oh, My, This Is Movie Theatre Employee P*rn!

--And just too exhilaratingly wonderful not to share. 

As you may know, I have worked in motion picture theatres off and on since Kiddie Mike in 1962. I'm also a moviegoer and I DETEST the cretins and jerks that bottom feed their ways into decent audiences conducting themselves all polite and quiet.

The Alamo Drafthouse Cinema in Austin, TX, with the sentiments and video below, has become one of my favorite places on Earth -- and I've never been there.

Take it away, Alamo idols. Kudos!

We do not tolerate people that talk or text in the theater. In fact, before every film, we have several warnings on screen to prevent such happenings. Occasionally, someone doesn't follow the rules, and we do, in fact, kick their asses out of our theater. This video is an actual voicemail from a woman that was kicked out of one of our Austin theaters. Thanks, anonymous woman, for being awesome.

Hang on, explicit language ahead. Here's one of America's bright and classy people working that phone.



"Don't Talk - Angry Voicemail" via YouTube and Sergio Leone and the Infield Fly Rule: "The Alamo Drafthouse's 'Magnited' Campaign Against Movie Theater Morons"

Nyah, Nyah, Nyah, I Saw 'Raiders of the Lost Ark' Before You Did!

Image via WikipediaThirty years ago this morning, I hopped into the car and drove to my job at the Lenox Square Theatre in Atlanta. I was the projectionist on duty for the 10 a.m. exhibitors' presentation of a forthcoming Paramount release, "Raiders of the Lost Ark." This closed-to-the-public show was part of a routine practice to allow competitors to view and consider a given film's potential before they bid money to acquire the motion picture for their cinemas. The process was akin to an auction.

Usually, anywhere from one or two to a couple of dozen corporate representatives were in attendance to see a bid screening. For "Raiders," high expectations had amassed. The 300-seat auditorium was packed, and the audience overflowed into standing room spaces. My projection booth was on the floor level, so I could step outside the door to monitor the film with the audience. I found a cozy spot to sit on the nasty carpet in the aisle.

The reaction to the movie was riotous throughout. I don't recall witnessing an industry response like that one before or since.

I was triply tickled. I saw the picture three weeks before the U.S. release date. I enjoyed it immensely -- and I got paid three hours of overtime to watch!

"Raiders of the Lost Ark" opened at the Lenox and several locations throughout the metro area on June 12, 1981. We played the adventure at our theatre until Christmas. I personally projected the 35mm print 16-20 or more times weekly for six-plus months. Three decades later, the film continues to unspool in my head. I see it. I hear it.

Where do I turn in my payroll?

I've got 29½ years of overtime coming.



"Raiders of the Lost Ark" Original Theatrical Trailer via YouTube

Remembering Elizabeth Taylor

Elizabeth Taylor: "What's My Line?" Mystery Guest (1954) via YouTube 
My favorite Elizabeth Taylor movies are the early ones, starting with, in a small role, the wonderful "Lassie Come Home" (1943) and, in full a-star-is-born mode, "National Velvet" (1944). The others I like are "Little Women" (1949), "Father of the Bride" (1950), "Father's Little Dividend" (1951), "A Place in the Sun" (1951), and "Giant" (1956).

Elizabeth Taylor is connected to two milestones in my life, working at the Emory Theatre in Atlanta, GA. When I wasn't selling popcorn, I was in training to become a professional motion picture machine operator, a dream for this boy, age 11-12.

• I accomplished my first big deal reel-to-reel change-over from one projector to the next during our showings of her movie "The V.I.P.s" (1963).
• Throughout the weeks of "Cleopatra" (1963), I was taught how to thread the 35mm film into the machines with precision.

Image via WikipediaI have clear, fond memories of those days and I especially recall the final footage of "Cleopatra" reel #2. Cleo undergoes a nude body massage, exposing heretofore uncharted-by-Mikey bosom.

Although the scene doesn't last long, I never missed observing the end of reel #2 each time we ran the epic. I didn't know exactly why I was fascinated with her flesh. I just knew I was fascinated. Exactly.

Plus, I wondered, "Is 48 B.C. her bra size?" They said she was in 48 B.C.

I grasped nothing of ancient history, nor ancient lingerie.

Nevertheless, my training with Elizabeth Taylor was not only professional, but also enlightening!

Optical Confusions

We had a movie event at the Atlanta Fox Theatre this week in the HDCAM video format. The special equipment created a few puzzles to solve during our projection preparations. What we saw on the source monitor test pattern did not match what was on the giant screen.

The brightness and the colors weren't the same, and the Indians were from different tribes.

Rear Window

The Fabulous Fox Theatre on Atlanta's Peachtree St. 
I took that picture last November, near dawn, driving in to begin my work at the showplace on "Radio City Christmas Spectacular."

Fans of the venue have seen numerous photographs of the famous marquee and building frontage during its 81-year history. I doubt, however, you've caught this next view of the same area, snapped near dusk:


From the Projection Room Potty Portal

Big Weekend

Big weekend, blasting "The Sound of Music" and that darn Gretl. 

The revival of Rodgers and Hammerstein's soaring musical concluded its Atlanta performances, part of a big stage tour, last evening. I was not in the cast. My lederhosen wept.

Anyway, that's what I'm telling the dry cleaner.

As you may know, a sincere, lifelong dream of mine has been to play the demanding role of Gretl, the teeniest of Von Trapps. I've fully confessed the quest, the craft, the whining like a little girl.

See: "The Sound of Mikey" | "Meanwhile..."

I was never extended so much as a phone call inviting me to audition. Thus, you know what that meant. No "Thank you, Mr. Durrett, nice gams."

I'm not getting any younger here, producers. You are forcing me into Plan B. I've written a sequel, "The Sound of Hip-Hop," wherein Gretl (Mike Durrett) and the kin kiddies (Some Fresh-Faced Brats) flee Austria to revolutionize Motown with popping, locking, and B-boying. Feel da funk. Word. Edelweiss.

Then, stardom in my claws, I'll mount "The Sound of Kabuki" with me as most honorable G. and kimonoed kiddie kin (Some Other Fresh-Faced Brats).

In the short term, however, I get livid when I think of this year's fruitless toil, the expense, the tappity-tappity-tappity-tappity-tappity-tappity-tap taps.

Even the elementary Botox® injections were for naught. At least, I have three months of pre-schooler pouty lips left to carry me through the indignation and appearances on GretaWire.

And now, seriously, before my blood pressure rises any higher, I need to go phone the pediatrician....

Sux and the Mikey, Too

Although the Fox Theatre marquee publicized the wrong film, we played "Sex and the City 2" recently to an appreciative, mostly female audience.

The afternoon before, the hostage me, the all-by-myself all-male audience, sat alone in the immense auditorium to observe the feature's Digital Cinema print during a technical run-through. Someone had to do it and that someone was Projector Boy.

I rue the day I mentioned I had liked a chick flick. Word got out and here I was, against my will, force-fed widescreen botox and wall-to-wall twatters (which are below-the-belt titters).

Not even slightly assuaged by my presence on the company payroll, I persevered, borderline horrified from the first frame of the picture until the final fade, trapped within an 146-minute "Eek!"

"Ohmigod, it's Liza Minnelli."

"Ohmigod, it's Liza Minnelli impersonators.

"Ohmigod, it's only the first reel."

"Ohmigod, they're being Beyoncé."

"Ohmigod, 'Single Ladies.'"

"Ohmigod, put a ring on it."

"Ohmigod, if you liked it then you shoulda put a ring on it."

"Ohmigod, oh oh oh."

"Ohmigod, put a bazooka on it."

"Ohmigod, I'm thinking of doilies."

"Oh! My! God!"

'Singin'' 'n' the Train

ATLANTA, Ga. — After running Buster Keaton's locomotive "The General" (1926) for the lucky Fox Theatre throng, my projection partner and I stayed after hours to conduct a tech screening of "Singin' in the Rain" (1952), the next program in the 35mm summer film series.

Watching my favorite musical from the observation window, I was struck by how this night's unintended double feature is so perfect together. Each is one of the best comedies of its respective silent or sound eras, machinery propels both yarns, inventiveness is key, and rails play roles with either a train or a trolley. Furthermore, the plot of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer's "Singin'" cleverly depicts Hollywood's growing pains, changing gears and moving moving pictures into the talkies era.

Gene Kelly image via Wikipedia

I first experienced "Singin' in the Rain" at age 18, through the good fortune of my high school's film appreciation course. I was also, naturally, the class projectionist, enabling me to get my hands on the 16mm print a few days before the students' viewing. I had planned to screen a minute or two for grins, but the snowball effect kicked in and I rolled the entire film down to "The End."

What a superlative movie. I've seen it, perhaps, two dozens times in the intervening years and plan to collect a few more, preferably with large, appreciative audiences, a practice I shun with lesser attractions.

Here's a moment, one of the many exceptional musical numbers spanning "Singin' in the Rain." I recall being alone, slouched in the darkness of my school's auditorium, looking on as 26-year-old Donald O'Connor (who would portray The Great Stone Face in "The Buster Keaton Story") made 'em laugh and took my breath.


"Singin' in the Rain: Make 'Em Laugh" via Google Video

The General on 'The General'

It did me good to hear the boisterous cheers and laughter coming from the large audience during the Atlanta Fox presentation of Buster Keaton's "The General," an 84-year-old silent movie, "the number 18 greatest film of all time," according to the American Film Institute.

Clark Wilson, resident organist of the Ohio Theatre in Columbus, was the nimble guest performer at the keys of the powerful Mighty Mo. He accompanied the film with his rousing, tender, and patriotic musical score, weaving together appropriate melodies of The War Between the States period. I found the evening moving. I was proud and happy for Buster.

As a projectionist, "The General" was also excellent because we had no need for the usual, somewhat tedious regimen of sound checks and adjustments. Boys and girls, silents are our friends!



"Buster Keaton Performing Stunts in 'The General'" via YouTube

Big Weekend

Big weekend, brooding, beaming brooding to beaming brooders.

We finished the annual Fox Theatre summer film festival with a downtown Atlanta showing of "The Twilight Saga: Eclipse," but I was still miffed over the events of a few days prior when I drew the occupational short straw, requiring me to be the one to pre-screen the motion picture. We projectionists troubleshoot related technical issues through this practice in advance of the public attending a film.

People say to me, "Oh, you get paid to watch the movies!"

True. I do. And to those people, I say, "Ernest Scared Stupid."

Not having seen the first two episodes of the "Twilight" franchise, I was at a loss as to what was unfolding before the balcony — something hotsy about commingled, overly-coiffed vampires, werewolves, and Dakota Fannings.

When the bite fest concluded, I sprinted a few blocks down Peachtree to the nearby hospital emergency room for a precautionary blood test and a good, old-school leeching. I avoided looking in mirrors and serpentined to sidestep any aloft silver bullets.

For the record, the series of rabies shots to the gut were less painful than my required pre-screening of "Sex and the City 2."

Yeah, hotsy.

The Fox and the Cats

ATLANTA, Ga. — Yesterday, I was there at The Fab, working on computer files for several upcoming movie events.

At the end of the afternoon, we pair o' projectionists strolled through the empty auditorium, observing the quiet stage festooned with the trashy set from "Cats," the musical appearing that night in its umpteenth engagement at the theatre.

"Is this the national Broadway tour?" I asked my associate.

"Yes," he said.

"Good grief, this play has to have been on the road for more than 20 years! Are those poor cats using walkers with tinkle bells in 'em?"

Scott kept moving along the aisle through the orchestra seats.

"I bet Rum Tum Tugger is plum plum tuckered," I said. "Do they require orthopedic catnip? I think I smell Tabby Pampers."

"Yes."

"You are rather non-verbal."

"I don't want to be on the Internet."

"Oh."

We passed through the doorway to backstage. The unmistakable aroma of cats was in the air. I took keen interest in the placement of my feet.

"Is this play in English?" I asked.

"Yes."

"I'd come to see it if it were in Kitty."

"You mean, 'Meow, meow, meow?'"

"Sure. I'd like to hear the show in its native tongue, with some vigorous yawns and implausible wild scampering not altered for the locals." I looked at the employees' time clock and punched out.

"Two hours to curtain," said a six-foot-tall cat stirring from a nap near a coil of rope. She flicked out her tongue with the precision of a switchblade and commenced to bathe before us, fluffing her coat and extended leg fur contortioned behind her neck and pointy ears. I was beginning to feel sympathy moist.

Another feline snooped about the Production Office. He wore street attire -- a big, black, rhinestone collar with "SKIMBLESHANKS" on it. I think there may have been a tattoo of The Aristocats in his tramp stamp region.

Amazingly, and absolutely true, he asked if we had a can opener.

Scott produced one, while I wondered, "Doesn't Fancy Feast have pop-tops?"

"Thanks, man," the mouser said, strutting away on two legs. "Down with IAMS!"

His declawed fist #4 was in the air with defiance. Then, I saw it.

A thumb!

Something was not right with these immensely overgrown, poetry-reciting pussycats. I phoned Animal Control, Homeland Security, and Blofeld.

'Caddy' Shock

One thing projectionists hate is for the movie sound to fail unexpectedly. During the "Caddyshack" show, we jumped hurdles in seconds and manually overrode the pesky system when it muted itself.

"What's going on here?" I asked my partner.

"The processor needs to reboot," he said, but I knew better.

GOPHER!!

Big Weekend

On the first evening of the film's release in 1969, 17-year-old me sat in the Fox Theatre's orchestra section to watch "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid." I thought of my strong desire to operate the projectors in this movie palace, Atlanta's largest and finest. It was a personal goal and seemingly uncrackable.

More than four decades later, including 1978, the year I gained entrée, Butch and Sundance and the Fox and I reunited, with me looking on, all comfy from the projection room stool.

Big weekend.

Off to Sepia 'The Wizard'

Continued From: Big Weekend > Fab Grabs > More Fab Grabs > Big Romance > Double Header

The first time I projected "The Wizard of Oz" was in 1972 at the original North DeKalb Theatre, near Atlanta. I had heard the stories about the opening reel of the film, which is properly displayed in a sepia tint. The movie transforms to full color at the moment Dorothy enters The Land of Oz.

A ludicrous urban legend insists that color cinematography was invented while this production was before the cameras, about 20 minutes into the screenplay, so the studio decided to shoot the picture in color from where they'd left off. What the heck.

I guess it follows that color was uninvented before they finished, because the last sequence returns to sepia.

Nevertheless, some people have it in their heads the entirety of "The Wizard of Oz" is in color.

I was delighted when a concerned mother found her way to the machine room and asked me why the presentation was "in black-and-white."

"Oh, we thought we'd save a little money," I said. "We'll be turning the color on in a few minutes."

"Well, okay, thank you."

My other favorite trivia regarding "The Wizard of Oz" is the fact crazy MGM executives were prepared to remove Judy Garland's "Over the Rainbow" number in order to shorten the Kansas material.

Huh?

This wonderful scene is only the high point of the show. In fact, my world stops whenever I'm in the vicinity of the song. I gotta watch and listen.



"Over the Rainbow" via YouTube