(today's zomby) AND HOW DO YOU LIKE THE NEW DIGS?

Hey, folks! At long last, Zomby is returning from his "vision quest" overseas and is ready to star in more cartoons on this blog. Speaking of which, how do you like the redesign? Myself, I think it's pretty darned snazzy. I mean, you'd have to have iron willpower not to read it. It's begging to be read! Bettie certainly seems to approve.

 

The Management Kindly Requests: A Werewolf Story

The continental breakfast is a key plot device in this story! Watch for it!

Note to readers: As a change of pace, I thought I'd share with you a very brief piece of creative writing from the vast Kotke archives. This particular story arose from a challenge I received from another writer to compose a werewolf story which was told entirely in the second person. I do hope you will enjoy it. - JB

Ah, good, sir. You're awake.

No, no, Mr. Risling. You don't have to get out of bed. This won't take but a moment. You will forgive me for entering your room like this, sir, but you didn't answer your phone, and the management wanted me to pass along a few items of interest to you.

You gave us quite a scare last night, of course. What, sir? You don't remember? Certainly, you will remember some of it. Nothing, really? Hmm. You are Mr. Erik J. Risling, correct?

Eh? What's that? You don't even know where you are or how you got here? You are kidding, I trust. No? Well, you could start by looking around the room. That should jog some memories. You, sir, are in room 316 of the Applewood Motor Cove. You see that shattered window and those slashed drapes, sir? Yes, those. You did that, sir. And the bloody footprints on the carpet, too, which Rosa is now diligently attempting to remove. Of course, you will be paying for the replacement and cleaning of these items. Your credit card has already been billed, Mr. Risling. No need to fret.

"We're here to serve you!"

Oh, yes. Quite sure. You were the only person in this room last night. You checked in just before sunset and gave explicit instructions to the night clerk to padlock your door from the outside. You see the padlock here. You must have made quite an impression on him, sir. The clerk, I mean. Apparently, you were rather dramatic in making this request, and Maurer -- that's our night man -- was quite apprehensive and even considered denying you a room, thinking you to be intoxicated or involved in some criminal business. 

Fortunately, sir, you chose to stay at an establishment which prides itself on complying with unusual customer requests such as yours. Not for nothing did it receive three out of five apples in the Applewood $mart $hoppers Guide. Perhaps you saw our ad there? No? Oh, well, you chose wisely anyway, sir. You can be sure of that. Had you tried the Happy Apple Inn down the street, your experience would have been quite different, rest assured. You can never tell how you will be received in a place like that.

What's that, you say? Well, to hear Maurer tell it -- again, Maurer, is our night man, you understand -- you came to the front desk, sweating profusely, and said you needed a room for the night. You went on to say that the full moon would be out soon and that you were not feeling well and did not wish to be disturbed. You said that you had a medical condition which might cause you to make some noises in your sleep. You apologized for this and asked if it would be possible to have a room away from the other guests. That is why you are in 316, sir. You are the only guest staying on the third floor. Your fellow guests are all on 1 and 2. You were quite insistent about the padlock on the door as well. Once your credit card had cleared, your requests were cheerfully followed to the letter.

Are you starting to remember now? Good. Oh, one more thing, sir. You gave Mr. Maurer these.

Yes, sir, they are indeed bullets. Solid silver, I'd say. You told Maurer to keep these behind the desk and to use them if necessary. What you meant by that is unclear, but evidently Maurer assumed you wanted us to hold them for safekeeping during your stay. You can have them back now, of course. You see that they've been kept in perfect condition.

Well, sir, you were correct in informing us that you would be making some noises while you slept. You did not, however, properly estimate the volume, frequency, and sheer intensity of these noises. Despite your relative distance from the other guests, you still managed to unnerve them quite a bit with what they described as a howling sound. You kept poor Maurer quite busy last night, what with guests calling down to the front desk to lodge formal complaints. That is, of course, until approximately 12:30. You apparently shattered the window and left the motor cove for several hours at that point, returning some time around dawn. Maurer's a bit fuzzy on the details.

Now, sir? A few minutes past noon. You will remember, I trust, that checkout time at the Applewood Motor Cove is 11:00 a.m., so you will be paying for an additional day, in addition to the other expenses you have incurred here. Unfortunately, you chose not to answer your phone when Musgrove -- that's our day man -- called to discuss this very matter. You are still entitled to your free continental breakfast, Mr. Risling, though I'm afraid the croissant is a bit stale at this point, and the coffee has grown cold. No? Well, should you change your mind, you'll find it over there on the dresser.

Oh, and one more thing, Mr. Risling. There is a Detective Cuthbert waiting to see you in the lobby. He didn't supply any details, but he said he would like to speak to you at your earliest convenience about your activities last night. Apparently, there were some unpleasant goings on about a mile from here. An entire family killed, throats slashed by some large animal. Ghastly stuff! You can read all about it in the Applewood Morning Bee.

It's over there, sir, on the dresser.

Next to your continental breakfast.

Of death and baseball...

"Death is a part of baseball."
"Oh, yeah, it's the main part." 

-Two executives on The Simpsons

Today was Opening Day for the Chicago Cubs. (They lost.) But being a living impaired American, I could not help but meditate upon the connection between death and baseball. Here is a song by the late great singer-songwriter Steve Goodman which sums it all up:



Goodman's song is funny and sad and true at the same time, and it will probably not surprise you to learn that the man himself was terminally ill and near the end when this was filmed more than a quarter-century ago. I think the fact that the Cubs lost today only makes it more poignant.

Yes, Steve, they still play the blues in Chicago. And probably always will. RIP.

Thoughts on 'Blood For Dracula' and its brilliant title sequence

An assortment of foreign posters advertising Blood For Dracula.

By some accounts, there are more films about Dracula than about any other fictional character. The Guinness people say he's been portrayed in a staggering 272 films, even more than Sherlock Holmes (who's been portrayed a mere 254 times). 

Of all these cinematic incarnations of the famous bloodsucker, perhaps none have affected me as deeply as Paul Morrissey's 1974 horror-comedy opus, Blood For Dracula (a.k.a. Andy Warhol's Dracula, after its world-famous producer). In this bizarre and hilarious film, a companion piece to Morrissey's Flesh For Frankenstein, the famous vampire is portrayed by the eccentric and beloved German thespian Udo Kier as a frail, weak creature who barely has the strength to walk and who is bossed around by his own manservant, Anton (Arno Jeuring). 

In desperate need of virgin blood but scorned by the people of his own country, Dracula makes a last-ditch journey to Italy in search of fresh victims and winds up as a house guest in the crumbling home of the Di Fiores, a fading aristocratic family with four comely daughters. Morrissey deconstructs the Dracula legend and uses it as a platform to satirize morality, class warfare, and even politics. The film is set shortly after the Russian Revolution, and the Di Fiores' gardener (a never-better Joe Dallesandro) is a bolshevik who views the Count as a relic of a bygone era.

What really gives the film its kick, however, is Udo Kier's performance in the title role. This is a Dracula unlike any I've seen in motion picture history: frail and vulnerable, a shadow of his former self. Paul Morrissey introduces us to this unconventional Dracula with an astonishing opening sequence, all done in one take and set to the melancholy, nostalgic music of Claudio Gizzi. If you'll indulge me, I'd like to walk you through this sequence step by step. Keep in mind that the image directly below is the very first thing you see in the film.

The face of Dracula: pale, haunted, vulnerable.

He begins to add makeup, starting with greasepaint eyebrows.

He adds color to his lips. For the first time, we see his fangs.

Dracula paints on his famous black hair. In reality, it is white.

Though he has no reflection, he has been looking in a mirror.

The chair pulls back, seemingly of its own accord.

Dracula exits the room in shadow. All this has been one shot.

For a low-budget film shot quickly and written as it was being made, Blood For Dracula is remarkably accomplished and compelling, telling a story which is thought-provoking, disturbing, amusing, and arousing. The opening sequence perfectly encapsulates Morrissey's particular take on the familiar character, and it's all achieved with careful framing, evocative music, and a pitch-perfect performance by Kier, whose eyes and facial expression communicate so much without one word being spoken.

Andre

Can you spot the difference between these two pictures? Look carefully!

Fred Flintstone vs. George Jetson: Choose carefully, gentle reader

Which of these men leads a happier life?

Who would you rather be, George Jetson or Fred Flintstone?

I bet you said George Jetson. It seems like a no-brainer, right? I mean, George lives in a futuristic world of rocket cars, robots, and household appliances that do almost everything for you. Fred, meanwhile, lives in the Stone Age and doesn't even have shoes... or pants, for that matter. And George, with his cushy desk job at Spacely Sprockets, is clearly in a higher tax bracket than working-class Fred, who toils away at the quarry under the glowering eye of Mr. Slate. George is white collar, and Fred is blue collar—literally and figuratively.

But hold on, gentle reader! The choice may not be so obvious after all. You may have been so dazzled by all the sci-fi wizardry on display in The Jetsons that you failed to notice a simple truth: Fred Flintstone is a much happier man than George Jetson. Fred, in fact, is a deeply contented, untroubled man who seems wholly satisfied with his life (hence his carefree catchphrase, "Yabba Dabba Doo!"), while George frequently seems edgy and neurotic, possibly suffering from ulcers or sleep problems. 

Why might this be? Well, I have a few theories:

1. Fred has friends and a social life; George doesn't.

Barney and Fred at a meeting of the Water Buffalos. Don't they look happy?

The Flintstones is based on Jackie Gleason's classic sitcom The Honeymooners (1955-1956), while The Jetsons is modeled after Blondie, which started as a comic strip in 1930 and inspired a series of films (1938-1950). The voice of Jane Jetson was provided by actress Penny Singleton, who played the title character in the Blondie movies. But something important got lost along the way in translating Blondie from one medium to another: male friendship.

Like The Honeymooners, The Flintstones features a strong male friendship. Instead of Ralph and Ed, we have Fred and Barney. But while Blondie's suburban protagonist Dagwood Bumstead has a best friend, the uninspiring yet reliable Herb Woodley, there exists no such corresponding "best friend" character on The Jetsons. George Jetson does not seem to have a friend in the world. He has no social life away from work or home either. Again, this is in sharp contrast to Fred Flintstone, who bowls regularly with Barney (and other men his age, like Joe Rockhead) and is a member of a fraternal organization, The Loyal Order of Water Buffalos. These elements, again, were taken from The Honeymooners. Ralph, too, was a bowler and he and Ed belonged to the Raccoon Lodge.

Why has George Jetson been denied any meaningful friendships or social interaction in his life?

2. Fred has a more satisfying home life than George.

If you study the opening title sequences of The Flintstones and The Jetsons, you will see that they are mirror opposites of one another. Here, take a moment to watch both of them:

Notice that the first clip is about Fred leaving work and rejoining his family—and being overjoyed to do so—while the second is about George being separated from his family one member at a time before finally arriving at work, where he immediately falls asleep at his desk. 

In their book Harry & Wally's Favorite TV Shows (1989), TV critics Harry Castleman and Walter Podrazik pointed out that Fred "has no real problems." They meant that as a complaint, but I think it's part of what makes the character so appealing. Fred, like his clearest latter-day successor, Homer Simpson, simply loves his life and his family with abandon. Certainly, Fred and Wilma argue a lot more than George and Jane Jetson do, but I think this is just indicative of the fact that the Flintstones are passionate, vital people. They're alive, for god's sake! Meanwhile, there is something weirdly distant and cold about the Jetson marriage. Jane seems perfectly nice, but she is somewhat vacant and detached. I'm guessing a lot goes unsaid in this family.

Fred and George are both parents, but this fact causes George much more anxiety. Fred does not seem to be too hands-on in the raising of little Pebbles, but he is devoted to her and loves her unconditionally. With George and his kids, the relationships are more anxiety-plagued and complex. His daughter, Judy, is an adolescent—often a rocky time for parent/child interaction. George hates Judy's music, hates her friends (especially her boyfriends), doesn't understand her slang, and probably doesn't feel like he can communicate with her meaningfully and effectively. 

It's a mixed blessing, then, that Judy has the same pleasant but vacant temperament as her mother. George is spared from any emotional confrontations with his daughter, but over the long haul this may have a numbing effect on him. Feeling alienated from Judy, George naturally gravitates toward his son Elroy. But even here, George feels insecure. He recognizes that Elroy's intellect is quickly outstripping his own, and he worries that Elroy will soon "outgrow" his old man. This accounts for George's many ploys to win Elroy's respect, such as the sad "Nimbus the Great" fiasco (from the "Elroy's Pal" episode) in which George dresses as one of Elroy's TV idols. 

When it comes to being a husband and father, George has less in common with Fred Flintstone and much more in common with Lester Burnham, the burned-out suburbanite in American Beauty.

3. Fred feels more connected to his work and his environment than George ever will.

George Jetson at Spacely Sprockets: Just a cog in a machine.

What do we know about George Jetson's job? Well, we know he works for a company called Spacely Sprockets. Consider the humble sprocket, dear reader. It is a metal wheel with teeth, and its job is to mesh with a chain or track. It is worth noting that Spacely Sprockets' main competitor is Cogswell Cogs. Cogs, of course, have a great allegorical significance. To be a "cog in a machine" is to be merely a small part of a much larger operation. This is what George Jetson is: a human sprocket, a living cog. He's not even involved in the production of the actual, physical sprockets. Instead, he has some ill-defined position at what seems to be an isolated workstation staring at a monitor all day much like a present-day cubicle drone. 

George is not only alienated from his work, he is alienated from his own environment. Think about it. George Jetson lives in a hermetically-sealed world. He spends all his time indoors, totally cut off from nature in his sterile, artificial world of emotionless gadgets and recirculated air.

Now what about Fred Flintstone? Fred, as we have established, works at the local rock quarry in the open air. The rocks from the quarry are likely used to build the homes and structures of Bedrock, so Fred can easily see the results of his labors. More importantly, Fred can experience the natural world thriving all around him. Sunshine, rain, snow, the feel of grass, fresh air—these are luxuries enjoyed by Fred Flintstone but totally unknown to George Jetson. And Fred doesn't really seem to be hurting in the technology department. If anything, the radios, telephones, televisions, and airplanes of The Flintstones are more remarkable than any gadget seen on The Jetsons.

Which is your path, reader? The ancient past or the distant future? Select with caution.

Just what we need for tornado season -- an angry, rapping tornado!

"I'll get your little behind!"

Every once in a while, citizens, you run across something on the Internet that you can't believe isn't already famous. This is going to be one of those. Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce to you... MISTA TWISTA!

This strutting, vainglorious rapping tornado puppet is the product of the Red Cross Central Illinois Chapter. According to them, Mista Twista "visits local schools and teaches children how to avoid danger during the Midwestern tornado season." Oh, why couldn't I have been this lucky as a child? All we got back then was a few crummy handouts. But the good news here is that Mista Twista's hip-hop-based threats appeal to young and old alike! And that beat of his is pretty badass, too.

The existential pain of Oscar the Grouch

A sad-looking Oscar the Grouch contemplates his existence.

Think for a moment about Oscar the Grouch, the green-furred, trashcan-dwelling resident of Sesame Street. Despite his famously cantankerous nature, he seems like a happy, confident guy doesn't he? I'm starting to wonder, though, if perhaps his grouchiness is merely a defense mechanism for his very real inner pain. He is very much ostracized from the rest of society on Sesame Street, and I think this has led to deep feelings of insecurity. As a living impaired American, I can certainly empathize with Oscar's situation.

And that's why I have created this little photographic tribute to Sad Oscar.