A day or so before Christmas, by happenstance, I listened to a previously unheard-by-me episode of "My Favorite Husband," the radio sitcom starring Lucille Ball. This series, of course, was the basis for TV's "I Love Lucy." The show I heard, "George's Christmas Present," first aired across America on Dec. 16, 1949.
Jump ahead to this afternoon, and, by happenstance, I discovered the very same episode has been recently Flash animated by Wayne Wilson, nicely, too. What are the chances of that occurring?
Here is the animation in three parts with co-star Richard Denning, plus Eleanor Audley and personal favorite Frank Nelson.
I'd sure like to see more of these, Miracle Central.
I've been blessed with the honor and joy that comes in life from observing two infant godsons mature into fine young men, making their marks on the world. On this Christmas Day, Dan is far away in Afghanistan assisting the brave American troops, while Jeremy is home with his family. Our love and pride and prayers are with them both.
Jeremy has also been known to putter with a piano. Ha! That makes me laugh!
Friday
Me and the missus and the cummerbund attended the theater, "A Tuna Christmas."
Favorite quote: "I've seen better hair on anchovies."
Afterward, looked in window at Fantastic Swams.
Saturday
Survived wife-inflicted Outlet Mall. My only outlet necessitated an hour-long slog through Kirkland's. I manned sniveling babied up, faced debilitating boredom, puzzlingly pleased female mindset, and inhaled oppressive candle-scented oxygen to the point of phantasms.
Let out, mauled.
Sunday
Watched the first episode of National Geographic's "Great Migrations." So violent and disturbing, I great migrated myself off the couch and returned the DVDs to the store unwatched.
This afternoon, I held our youngest cat, Melvin, against my chest for a five-minute hug and massage, standing next to the window so he could look outside. This scenario is a ritual we do everyday. All was calm and I put him down and walked across the room, leaving the boy behind.
I went to the kitchen counter to recharge the cellphone, an arm's length from a three-inch aromatic candle flickering on the stovetop. No sooner had I picked up the device, Melvin jumped from the floor onto the stove. I was distracted, so I didn't notice him at first, until something caught my eye and nose.
I swirled my head to the left to see Melvin's tail, to my huge horror, immersed in an orb of fire! His fluffy tail was directly over the candle flame, burning!
Casually, Melvin watched me drop the phone and the breakage.
I yelped, "MELVIN!!"
The shout startled him. He leaped to the floor and scurried away.
Vividly imagining our house torched to the ground by a frantic, roasting kitty, I was surprised to see the breeze around Melvy's speedy bottom blow out his blaze.
My wife and I raced to offer help and comfort. He seemed puzzled by the attention. He never cried. He never screamed. He just burned brightly.
Melvin was (formerly is) blessed with a glorious, bushy, slow-burning tail, which saved him. Quick attention to the tragedy at rear appendage kept the fire from reaching his flesh. Apparently, he never felt pain. It was only a fur wound.
We examined Melvin for damage and brushed away the scorched hair nubs from his smoking wagger.
"No more candles," said Donna.
We learned a life lesson. No more candles.
--With one exception. We had to light a bunch of candles to clear the air of the acrid Fireball Melvin stench.
Blech.
Melvin ambled out to the porch for Squirrel Watch.
Oh. And where's Morty?
Morty slept through the entire incident, 10 feet away.
It is a bit surprising that I didn't become a smoker. When I was a kid, cigarette ads on television were as commonplace as westerns. I was maybe 10 around the time this commercial for Winston appeared. I shied away from tobacco, although "The Flintstones" was captivating and influential to me.
I never ate a brontosaurus burger either.
I did take a forceful shower under an elephant's trunk. I found the tepid nasal fluids cleansing to be lacking. Subsequently, I was forced to hire and bring in a hedgehog to sneeze on me.
I'm a devotee of Chuck Jones' Road Runner cartoons of 1949-65, so this live-action fan homage / update is of special interest. Nice work.
As a young boy, I was also fascinated by the cartoons' sumptuous art direction, depicting the stories somewhere in the strangest American deserts. Through adult travels around the southwest, I've observed the terrain and concluded Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote reside somewhere in the Utah-Arizona zip codes. The new video was set in Moab, specifically, to my eye, at Arches National Park.
What a wow -- and the perfect location!
See why my wife and I have long considered relocating to Moab, since our first visit in 1995 and as recently as this past spring. At any moment, I may pick up the phone and have ACME ship us on out.
Morty's still licking his wounds and nether regions after Tuesday's Animal Kingdom elections. Kitties took a drubbing, losing much of their cutest critters dominance. These negative campaign ads did not help.
Morty, by the way, has deleted all of the dogs off of his TiVo and will be embarking (Morty uses that word with deep sarcasm) on a two-year nap to regroup.
Who says kids don't pick up bad habits from television?
Morty's been watching "The Flintstones" and I'm going to talk to him about it, just as soon as someone unlocks the door and I get back inside. DONNA!!!
Friend Frank Thompson
Once again, as I've done each year since I got to voting age, I wrote in Ruth Buzzi for every single office. This year it's really gonna happen. I feel it!
Mike
It grieves me to find myself on the opposite end of the political spectrum from you, Frank. I shall continue to write in Tyrone F. Horneigh.
On Identity Theft:
Friend William
Good news - my identity was NOT stolen. Just a sloppy background check service problem.
Mike
Could I steal your identity? I'd really like to be taller.
On the Day After the World Series:
Friend Ray
Can't wait for the World Series to start!
Mike
Can't wait for gum that squirts!
On Television:
Yesterday, on THE JACK BENNY PROGRAM: Guest waitress Iris Adrian takes Don Wilson's order....
IRIS: What about you, Titanic?
DON: Aw, just bring me what I usually have.
IRIS: I can't. The fella who helps me carry it in is off today.
DON: Now, look, Miss, every time I come in here, you make remarks about my size. I'm sure you've seen somebody fatter than me.
IRIS: Yeah. But I had to buy a ticket.
On Nostalgia:
I have reached the point in my life where EVERYTHING is a 50th anniversary and I was there. "Psycho" and "The Bellboy" this summer. Next, the wonderful world of Bedrock, and in January: "One Hundred and One Dalmatians." It was the best time ever to be 8 (I didn't see "Psycho" until 14, but I recall the hoopla). Third grade ruled!
Oh, yeah, "La Dolce Vita." I remember inviting Anita Ekberg to Career Day. She ate my fish sticks in the cafetorium, but "Pollyanna" was more my speed. In those days, I thought of Hayley Mills as leggy.
On the Question:
Friend John
Do you have a fish called Wanda in your aquarium?
Big weekend, rejoicing I didn't die on the operating table during cataract surgery, because, when the nurse asked what pills I had taken, I chose not to mention the Gas-X.
Also, I Halloweened as Ray Milland, "The Man With the X-ray Eyes."
My cat Morty is ready to go Halloween hairball-or-treating for bite-size chum and popcorn shrimp.
One of the ways he gets into the mood is by watching movies of the supernatural -- meaning, dogs. Here are a couple of spooky shows, according to the kit. There's a snarling monster and another about the undead.
Morty's watching "Bunnies in Paper Cups," which he finds sadly lacking compared to "Ocean Whitefish and Tuna in Sauce in a Whiskas® Pouch" and "Cod and Shrimp in a Dish With a Kitty Paw Print Drawn on It."
Big weekend at a fall festival, subjected to kid beam-girl, belting out heinous songs from "Annie" and then some, and then some more, followed by two and one-half hours of divas-dueling "Dreamgirls."
I missed the birthday (Oct. 9) of the French film-maker, writer, and comedian Jacques Tati (1907-1982). He directed only nine pictures, largely sound era silent movies of sorts, but he is considered one of the top masters in cinema circles and internationally beloved for his iconic screen character, the quirky Monsieur Hulot.
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:
Actual Messages I Wrote, Forgot, Then Found While Cleaning Out My Correspondence Folders
05/14/09
I'd like to have those things. We're running low on clutter.
05/23/09
Watched THE DEVIL AND DANIEL WEBSTER (1941) tonight for the first time. Good and fascinating. I'm told Daniel Webster is related to me, distant cousin or something. He never writes.
06/01/09
On behalf of Cheetos, let me just say, I HATE YOU!!
06/05/09
Beauty. It's the next best thing to Agnes Moorehead on a raft.
06/02/09
The good news is I cleaned out my car. Want some six-year-old Life Savers? Never been opened.
06/03/09
Oh, we don't hate you, Scott. We're grateful to learn this bad news, although I think we're now kaput on Mallowmars.
I rarely eat whole eggs, but do the Eggbeaters thang. I'm down to only a beak or two a month.
Well, I'm feeling ready for a snack. Tonight: cinderblock. Low sodium and stays crunchy in coconut milk. You can also break into the coconut with it.
On Sept. 29, actor Tony Curtis died. The following day was the 50th anniversary of the premiere of "The Flintstones." Curtis, as it so happens, is fondly recalled for having voiced his caveman incarnation in a 1965 episode, "The Return of Stoney Curtis."
Fifty years ago this morning, I opened my eyes to a great new old world -- a place called Bedrock. The previous evening, "The Flintstones" debuted on prime time network television and I was there.
The strange, comical, prehistoric universe of Fred and Wilma and Dino Flintstone, plus their nifty neighbors, Barney and Betty Rubble, was too delicious for this 8-year-old Neanderthal to resist. My friends, too. "The Flintstones" became the first communal obsession of our youth, followed, three months later, by Walt Disney's "One Hundred and One Dalmatians" and, three years down the path, Beatlemania.
What had been intended as TV's first animated sitcom for adults — note the product placement for Winston cigarettes — was hijacked by children. We loved the show and were soon teaching ourselves to doodle the characters' pictures during school. I can draw Fred at the click of a pen or the hammer of a chisel.
It wasn't long before producers Bill Hanna and Joe Barbera revamped the concept to pander to kids with the introduction of tot Pebbles (followed quickly by Bamm-Bamm). Great move, boys. The moment that happened — February 2, 10,000 B.C. (We were on tape delay) — the show was altered and ruined forever.
The TV rule of "adding brats to beloved formats doesn't work" was proven once again, or so I told "Lucy" loser Little Ricky.
The chums and I were out of there, moving on to something else, maybe Arithmetic, but probably "The Jetsons."
My first-run "Flintstones" experience was entirely in black-and-white, which was the broadcast norm in 1960. On this page, I've featured the original opening sequence from seasons one and two of the series, plus the end credits for Winston. My memory is the cigarette company was an alternating sponsor, so not prominent each week; therefore, here's a somewhat reworked *generic* closing taken from the color elements.
I prefer the early "Flintstones" title sequences. I owned the vinyl record of the superior, jazzy theme, "Rise and Shine," and played the tune incessantly in my bedroom. There were additional musical selections, including the toe-tapping "Split Level Cave."
But, after 48 years of repetitive TV exposure, the updated "Meet the Flintstones" title footage is better known. I like it well enough. With its drive-in theatre imagery, how could I not?
The closing with the children and Barney and Betty can be seen in this foreign adaptation, although the music track is different than in the U.S. version:
One of the quintessential movie stars of my childhood has passed. In addition to being an enjoyable personality, Tony Curtis represented that manly, brilliant handsomeness I sought, but was never able to achieve in design. Few among us could and, anyhow, we probably wouldn't have been able to match his legendary sexual prowess. I'd need salves, lip splints, personal trainers, Wet Naps, Bufferin — I know that.
Tony Curtis was born to play comedy and shared attributes with his hero, Cary Grant, who he so nicely mimicked in the golden farce "Some Like It Hot" (1959) and appeared alongside in the popular pink submarine adventure "Operation Petticoat" (1959).
Tony Curtis, Marilyn Monroe, Jack Lemmon, Joe E. Brown in "Some Like It Hot" via YouTube
Although the studio system and the business dealt Curtis more than his fair quota of dud projects, he always appeared to give them his best. He was a fine dramatic actor, too, when allowed the chance, "Sweet Smell of Success" (1957) being the first choice of these.
My favorite Tony Curtis moment is a single second of face time. It is his introduction in the mammoth road comedy, "The Great Race" (1965), seen in the clip below after the opening title sequence. He's presented, looking straight into the camera, fully in bloom with that bright, dazzling smile. So much so, a flashing twinkle of white light emanates from his teeth. While this bit is obviously animation-enhanced (and has been much copied), it aptly illustrates his screen power, humor, and willingness to laugh at himself.
Add up all of the screenings and I find I've spent full days of my life in the dark with Tony Curtis, maybe more, and I will continue to revisit the good memories he's left behind to glisten again.
Now, who wants pie?*
Tony Curtis, Jack Lemmon, Natalie Wood in "The Great Race:" via YouTube
"Porky in Wackyland" is a 1938 animated short film, directed by Robert Clampett for Leon Schlesinger Productions as part of Warner Bros.' Looney Tunes series.
In this film, Porky Pig goes hunting through a Salvador Dalí-esque landscape to find the Do-Do Bird for a very large bounty. In 1994, it was voted #8 of The 50 Greatest Cartoons of all time by members of the animation field and in 2000 was deemed "culturally significant" by the United States Library of Congress, who has selected the short for preservation in the National Film Registry.
Furthermore:
A color remake of "Porky in Wackyland" was supervised by Friz Freleng in 1948. Re-titled as "Dough for the Do-Do," the remake was released in 1949. The films were nearly identical, in many cases appearing to match frame-by-frame in certain details, albeit with Porky's appearance updated and the voices having evolved, and many of the backgrounds being different.
Here is the comparison video, followed by the original cartoons in their appropriate Wackylands.
A radio legend and mukluk putterer, Bob Walker of My 93-1, Hutchinson, Kansas, writes:
Hey Mike,
We had a baby born in the parking lot at the Kansas State Fair. I asked callers for Fair Baby Names. I got Freakshow Fannie, Funnel Cake Jake, Himalaya Micayla, Cotton Candy Sandy.
Do you possibly actually have additional names?????
Soitenly:
Little Bo Geek
Deep Fried Yahoo
Three Car Monty
Drooling Banjo
Tater Tot
Baby Bearded Fat Lady
Free Balloons for the Kid
Live Skunk in the Middle of the Road
Gravel Gertie
Don't Tread on Meatloaf
Tilt-a-Merle
Parking Lotta
Fairy (At Least I'm Not Wal-Mark)
A radio legend and mukluk putterer, Bob Walker of My 93-1, Hutchinson, Kansas, writes:
(Nah! It couldn't possibly be the same one.)
Bob shares New Fall TV Shows That Probably Aren't Going to Make It, including "America's Got a Cold" and "How I Met Your Plumber."
He adds:
I bet you have more spewing from your gizzards.
Oh, a few:
"Survivor: Tainted Food Court Meat Samples on a Toothpick"
"Leave It to Bieber"
"Pimp My Aunt Bea"
"Wincing With the Slurs"
"Family Gut"
And, finally, a radio legend and mukluk putterer, Bob Walker of My 93-1, Hutchinson, Kansas, writes:
(Huh? Who? Huh? What?)
Anyway, he wants to know if I have Telltale Signs the Mosquitoes Are Bad.
Indeed:
They have a tattoo of you with a clot.
They get their stingers pierced.
Just before hitting your blister, you hear teensy voices holler, 'HOT TUB!!" ... And, "Come on in, the sucking's fine!"
With the fall TV season underway, Morty is fancying himself as the feline Tom Bergeron, hosting videos on my computer with the occasional wise-meow and a casual pullover sweater.
Here are his latest clips for "America's Funniest Home Kitty-Os," and then he needs to go clean his room.
Morty's still licking his wounds and nether regions after Tuesday's Animal Kingdom elections. Kitties took a drubbing, losing much of their cutest critters dominance. These negative campaign ads did not help.
I ogled it lovingly, mostly because I can recycle 
