Bob Hope & Jerry Lewis Meet Frankenstein

My Halloween plans include mmmmmm, candy -- and a return visit with the frenetic 1948 comedy "Abbott & Costello Meet Frankenstein," or as the official title reads in the film, "Bud Abbott Lou Costello Meet Frankenstein."

It is interesting to note, like Bud and Lou, other major movie comedians of the mid-20th century encountered the Frankenstein monster and his ghoul fiends, Wolfman and Dracula (or reasonable unreasonable facsimiles). One of Bob Hope's adventures came in 1967, following a Jerry Lewis tangle in 1964.

As I mentioned in my recently updated article, "Top 10 Scary Movie Comedies," Bob and Jerry had previously romped through somewhat identical haunts. There's Hope's spooky flick "The Ghost Breakers" (1940), remade with Jerry and Dean Martin in "Scared Stiff" (1953).

Related: Top 10 Funny Scary Movies


Fall Festivals O' Fun 4

Come and listen to my story 'bout a man named Verizon,
    Poor mountain man could holler across horizons;
Then, one day, while shouting somethin' rude,
    Up through the ground came conversational wood.

Calls, that is ... ring tones...

Dialin' fools ... tel'mark'ters...


Fall Festivals O' Fun 2

"Yeah, I'll have the Ultra Tide and Febreze Parfait, two scoops of Woolite with Arm & Hammer FabriCare sprinkles, and a shot of Wisk on the rocks. Cheer!"


Fall Festivals O' Fun

Beginning a series of photographs I snapped at several outdoor events during October, including my very first Greek festival.

At "A Taste of Greece," I strolled past the pastry tables, finding nothing suitably impaled to eat.

An attractive woman gestured to gain my attention, then asked: "You like Galaktobouriko?".

"Oh, with Lorne Greene. And Dirk Benedict as Lt. Starbuck. Yes, very good..."


Cover Up at the Cat House

Overheard in the Kitties Lounge
The favorite pastime in our home, like most people, is talking about our pets' potty habits.

After the ceremonial cleaning of the cat box, I suggested to Donna that the boys might appreciate a little more litter.

Twenty-four years of marriage. Actual conversation:

Mike: I'd add some filler on the bottom to start. I suspect they don't like to step in urine puddles. ... Unlike me, I'm always into wading. ... I'm sure I mentioned that on our first date.
Donna: I don't think so.
Mike: I guess it paid to keep my mouth shut.


Glamour Snapz: The Lester Michael Durrett Shoot

I, uh ... I, uh ... I think we'll go with just one photo of Lester.



I'll say this for his makeover team. They pimped my clone.

I don't know which is more disturbing. ... Lester's pictures? ... Or his excessive use of the word "par-tay!"

Video of Lester's session -- the first good reason to turn the Internet over to the U.N. -- is online at Muglets.

Previous: Chips Off the Old Mike | Glamour Snapz: The Mike Durrett Shoot | Glamour Snapz: The Connie Michelle Durrett Shoot


Glamour Snapz: The Connie Michelle Durrett Shoot

My clone, Connie, adored her photo session at Glamour Snapz. It was a liberating experience -- the first time she didn't feel compelled to look like me in public.

Rifling through the studio's costume wardrobe, she was eager to express her femininity, but a little shy to show off her new beehive hairstyle, which she insisted on retaining.

Video of Connie's session is online at Muglets.

Previous: Chips Off the Old Mike | Glamour Snapz: The Mike Durrett Shoot
Next: Glamour Snapz: The Lester Michael Durrett Shoot


Glamour Snapz: The Mike Durrett Shoot

Glamour Snapz welcomed my wallet with open arms. My clones, Connie and Lester, and I fared even better, as we thrive under the direction of indifferent, pretentious wait-zombies.

Turns out the Glamour Snapz full service package includes trendsetter wardrobe fittings, hair styling, and a varied assortment of nicotine gum smacks by the photographer in between nose-smoke made possible by a generous grant from trout-lipped puffs on a slut bomb Kool.

And to add excitement and spontaneity to the heady process, the staff piped loud music into the studio and told us to feel the beat and "work it, baby, work it; you, too, aged throwback." (I expect that last part was aimed at me, but I was too busy gauzing my hernia to notice.)

My session's medley included the latest Maceo And The Macks and Lipps, Inc., plus "I Love the Nightlife, I Got to Boogie on the Disco 'Round, Oh Yea, if the Disco Krispy Kreme Throws Us Out for Snorting Powdered Sugar Off a Cruller, Oh Yea."

I asked if I could make a long distance dedication of "Your Sweetness Is My Weakness," but the coiffure artist spritzed me with an unidentifiable Marvy product knock-off and said, "Cuddle break, five minutes, 'poo sink."

I was the first to face the camera because Lester said, "Age before beauty," and Connie said, "I've got a gun. Vogue."

I think the pictures came out rather nicely. I've found my Christmas card!

Video of my session is online at Muglets.

Previous: Chips Off the Old Mike
Next: Glamour Snapz: The Connie Michelle Durrett Shoot


Chips Off the Old Mike

A Snap
of the Clones
CONTENT ALERT: Naughty no-no word ahead. Mr. Durrett pledges to wash his keyboard out with soap. 

Those clones of mine drive me nuts.

All I've heard for weeks from Lester and Connie is "Let's go to Glamour Snapz! We want to go to Glamour Snapz! Take us to get our pictures taken, Twithead."

"I don't want to go to Glamour Snapz," said Twithead I said.

"We don't have any pictures of ourselves, whined Connie. "We want to see what we look like."

"I've got boxes full of photographs," I said. "Help yourself."

"Those are pictures of you, not us," deduced Lester.

"Look, mes," I said, "you are my real-time clones. We are exact duplicates."

"Oh? And how is your vaginal canal today?" inquired Connie.

"I don't know! I don't know how that happened!" I barked in exasperation. "The doctors say you are my feminine side. Personally, I think a lady fly got into the Petri dish with me."

"Oh? So, now we're flies? You're not going to bring up our table manners or the hands licking again, are you?"

"Why don't you flit over to the corner, Connie, for a Time Out."

"Buzz off, old me!"

"You've got a vaginal canal? I didn't get a vaginal canal," said Lester, feeling left out, or left in. I'm not sure which.

"No," compassionate Connie replied. "You're a dick, just like him."

"We're detectives?"

"Lester," I said, "I'll explain everything to you when you're older."

"What, older?" yelped Lester. "All of us are 82."

"No, I'm middle-aged, a young specimen, virile, statuesque, nearly a symphony in adolescent musculature--"

"Ohhh, brother," said Connie.

"I'm not your brother. I'm you and Lester, but even though we look identical and our DNA is the same, you two are only eight years in existence. You're still in the third grade. I'll discuss the birds and the bees when you're up to it."

"Birds and bees are detectives?"

"Ewwww, I don't want my kids to look like you," Connie said, flinging her sugar cube at my cheek.

"Thank you," I said. "You forgot something."

"Ewwww!" Connie hastily inserted to complete her comment.

"That's better," I said.

"So," Lester said, "what kind of specimens are Connie and me?"

"DON'T ANSWER THAT!" requested Connie.

"Let's go to Glamour Snapz! We want to go to Glamour Snapz! Take us to get our pictures taken, Twithead," said Lester.

"Let's go to Glamour Snapz! We want to go to Glamour Snapz! Take us to get our pictures taken, Twithead," said Connie.

I should've named you two Copy and Paste," I said, jingling the car keys. "Let's go to Glamour Snapz. We want to go to Glamour Snapz...."

If you can't beat 'em, shoot 'em -- with a camera, that is. Twithead ought to have the proofs back by tomorrow.

"What's a vaginal canal?" asked Lester.

To Be Continued...

"Are vaginal canals detectives?"

Next: Glamour Snapz: The Mike Durrett Shoot


Casa Durrett's Big Night

We turned out the lights to enjoy Bob Hope's splashy 1954 comedy, "Casanova's Big Night." In the solid costume farce, Hope has one of his best roles, impersonating the 18th century's notorious lover.

After those 86 minutes and 24 years of marriage, here's an actual conversation:

Donna: Was Casanova real?
Mike: You mean, historically? Or a legend?
Donna: Yeah.
Mike: He was real, but I suspect his legend is exaggerated.
Donna: Wasn't there a song, "Blame It on the Casanova," or something?
Mike: "Bossa Nova."
Donna: *sigh* ... I try, Mike...


Evian Bird Pandowdy

I'll be the first to admit I haven't followed the news recently, but every time I pass a television or radio, someone is harping on about an Evian Bird Pandowdy this or an Evian Bird Pandowdy that.

An Evian Bird Pandowdy must be the new trendy thing or something, because I heard millions of people could be affected, and soon. Well, happy holidays to them, too.

An Evian Bird Pandowdy might be looming as the be all and end all, but, me, I'm an early adopter. I ate that stuff for years. Here's Nana's recipe.


Evian Bird Pandowdy

1 single pie crust dough
6 cups peeled, cored, & sliced chicken (about 1 medium-sized)
1/2 cup maple syrup
1/4 cup packed dark brown sugar
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
5 tablespoons butter, melted
24 bottles Evian water

Preheat oven to 350°F. Heavily butter an 9" x 13" baking dish.

Roll the dough out 1/4" thick, cut into pieces.

Spread chicken evenly in the baking dish. Drizzle with maple syrup.

Combine brown sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger. Sprinkle on top of the chicken.

Lay the pastry strips over the chicken. Brush with the butter. Bake 30 minutes, or longer if "Young and the Restless" is on.

Remove from oven and stir the crust into the pie. Bake 30 minutes more or until chicken is soft and the crust is golden brown.

Serve with light whipping cream and chitlin gravy.

Wash it down with lots of cool, thirst-quenching Evian water in the attractive plastic bottles. Available at your grocer's counter.


Superman Meets Jerry!

Mike Meets SuperJew!
Since "The Adventures of Jerry Lewis" comic book series was produced by DC Comics, there were occasional editions with the publisher's superheroes, like Batman, crossing over for guest appearances. Jerry was such an important celebrity that he could even host the big guy, Superman.

Seeing the cover again brings back memories. Jerry Lewis often jokingly referred to himself in the real world as "SuperJew." This knowledge would play into my first new friendship upon entering high school.

Although I haven't been in contact with my pal, Gary, in more than 35 years, I do remember that first morning in 8th grade homeroom. We arrived, having been promoted from separate elementary schools. Due to alphabetizing, we sat next to each other. We hit it off immediately. Moments later, we knew we were in trouble.

Gary and I had set our eyes and dreams on the coveted title of "Class Clown." We were obvious cut-ups and contenders. So much so, I soon found myself preparing gags to *ad-lib* in homeroom each day. Wednesdays were the best because I could repeat Red Skelton's TV monologue from the previous evening. Gary worked hard to top me and vice versa.

After several months, in a move I calculated to be designed to remove me from my quest for mayhem master, Gary took me aside and asked if I'd like to be his writer. He wanted me to script his morning center-of-attention material.

I declined to retire from my performance career, when, after all, I was doing so well, but I did enter into a collaboration on some special material for him.

Once, I mentioned Lewis' "SuperJew" remarks and Gary, being Jewish himself, fell into deep, deep love with expanding the concept. He assumed the role of SuperJew on campus.

We never developed a full routine because he changed schools and we lost touch, but I do remember his introduction. Those words have run through my head hundreds of times in the intervening decades.

"Faster than a speeding matzoh ball. ... More powerful than a bowl of chicken soup. ... Able to leap tall yarmulkes in a single bound. ... Look! Up in the sky! It's a bird! It's a-- oy vay! It's SuperJew!"

That piece killed in 1966! The kids loved it. Today, Gary and I would be sent to sensitivity counseling and do community service, lugging a litter can and a broom handle with a nail in it.

We'd probably entertain ourselves by crooning "Ebony and Ivory" -- special lyrics, of course....

"SuperJew and Methodist work together in clean-up harmony,
Side by side in our custodial suits..."

Oh, Lord, why don't we?


The Dynamic Duo Face Their Daffiest Peril!

Peachy Keen, Batman, Person, Man
I've been a middling fan of Batman over the years. As an adolescent, I followed the tongue-in-cheek Adam West TV series during its first season. I saw the Tim Burton and Michael Keaton film and the sequel with Danny DeVito as The Penguin. Those were more than enough until this summer's "Batman Begins," which I thoroughly enjoyed.

So, what's my favorite Caped Crusader adventure?


Related: The Adventures of Jerry Lewis and Maynard G. Krebs | Top One Pair of High Tech Improvements for Next Batman Sequel | Top One Memo to Morgan Freeman Fans | Top One Blooper Spotted in "Batman Begins: The IMAX Experience" | Top One Missed Opportunity in "Batman Begins" | Top One Jerry Lewis Telethon Moment


Detailing Tailgaters

Subject: Disheveled Pontiacs
Date: Tue, 4 Oct 2005
From: Bob Walker
To: Mike Durrett
An actual letter from an actual reader:
Your tailgater description really struck a nerve with me. My neighbor Dave and I went to a Chiefs football game about seven or eight years ago. We cooked out in a rainstorm. My beer-laden Chiefs red makeup drooled into my salmonella-infested breast of chicken.

We were all adorned in our get up and accosted by the Chiefs' owner as we walked into the game. He shook his head as he shook our hands.

A driving lightning storm was appoaching. The game was delayed whilst the lightning was flashing right over the Arrowhead or Airhead stadium. I walked down into the concession area and enjoyed my stupor with wall-to-wall fans.

We won the game. Dave and I stumbled back to the car. All of Dave's Chiefs flags were stolen. Our grill was gone. Lucky for me, I clandestinely stashed our cooler of beer in the bowels of the back seat.

Vagabond hooligans (we found out later) were always stealing their ill-begotten booty from the parking area. ... Somewhere in K.C. there's a goon with about 25 Webber grills. Luckily, we were able to save our sacks of Ole Diz Briquets.
Thanks for writing -- and for sparing us the details of what's stashed in the ear canals of the front seat. You know, Chevron has a vacuum cleaner out by the curb.

So, what do you want from us? A kiss to make it feel better? A tip of the Hatlo hat? What if we let you sit in Subway Jared's old pants and have a powwow with banana peppers?

You kids and your Sterno fumes.

At the Help Desk


100 Things About Me

  #35: The Buzz  

I was attacked by a Drag Queen Bee.

It didn't really sting. It was more like a posh hissy fit.

#1 | Previous | Next



I'm fanatical about CINERAMA, the gigantic, deep-curved movie format of the '50s and '60s. I believe when I die, there will be 17 mint prints of "How the West Was Won" waiting for me in Heaven.

At last count, only three theatres on Earth remain equipped with the special machines necessary to project the films properly. In America, presentations of CINERAMA are rare, so I was delighted to share some news with my wife. Here's the actual email conversation.

From: Mike Durrett
Sent: Monday, October 03, 2005 1:34 PM
To: Donna Durrett
Subject: HTWWW

From my friend, Rich, in L.A....

HOW THE WEST WAS WON, presented in the original 3 strip Cinerama process is coming to ArcLight Cinemas Hollywood at the Cinerama Dome for an exclusive one week engagement beginning Friday October 28, 2005. There will be two performances daily...

Donna wrote:

Do you want to go to LA to see this?

My response:

That would be cool, but probably not cost effective.

But, then again, Agnes Moorehead ogling Karl Malden's 30-foot nose. Hmmm....


Good to the Last Drop to the Sofa

Overheard Inside My Head
I had an adverse reaction to prescribed medicine. My side effects included dizziness and shortness of breath.

The other evening, I felt lightheaded while preparing to brew a cup of java. I was compelled to sit down to rest before I could finish the simple task.

An actual conversation with myself:

Mike: Oh, great. My doctor will say that's my body telling me to quit drinking coffee.


You're S****ing Me

or: Trickle Treats
or: Happy Hurloween
or: Blue Moon
or: The Boy Who Cried "WOOOOOOOFFF!"
or: Me and My Shallow
or: Don't Forget to Wipe Your Eats

"The Halloween costume for the kid with low self-esteem," says a Randy of the Internet, in a message circulating via email.

News Flush: Find the Toilet Costume at Oriental Trading. Can you handle it?
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