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Tonight I watched A LETTER TO THREE WIVES for the first time. It's an entertaining enough film on its own merits, but there were three scenes that particularly caught my interest.
In the intro, there's a female narrator (turns out she's Addie Ross, a pivotal person in the lives of all six of the film's primary characters, though she never appears on-screen) who describes the suburban town in which the story takes place:
"The name of the town isn't important. It's the one that's just 28 minutes from the big city -- 23 if you catch the morning express. It's on a river, and it's got houses and stores and churches -- and a Main Street. Nothing fancy like Broadway or Market -- just plain Main. Drug, dry goods, shoes, those horrible little chain stores that breed like rabbits...."
See, I'd never have guessed that, when the movie was released in 1949, there were many chain stores on most Main Streets. I wonder which chains existed back then.
Later in the film, a housekeeper is working in the kitchen when an ad comes on the radio.
We hear two horn honks, followed by a long, deranged laugh and a maniacal howl.
"Yow, he's crrrrr-azy!" a youthful voice exclaims. Then, one of those close-harmony vocal groups one associates with 1940s music begins to sing, in swinging style:
"Buy your car from Crazy Eddie
Pay when you get good and ready
Nothing down, drive as you pay
Buy your car (laughter, howl, metallic clank) the
Crazy Eddie waaaaaay-ay-ay-ay!""
It's all very Spike Jones-esque, which makes sense for the time, I guess, but I never imagined that such wacky commercials existed in the late '40s. And I certainly never knew the idea of a loony merchant named Crazy Eddie predated the zany stereo salesman who made such a splash in New York City (and nationally, too, via the Saturday Night Live take-off).
It's the kind of thing that makes you wonder. You can watch dozens of old movies from a particular era, but, really, can you know what life was actually like then, if you didn't live through it? I suspect not.
Finally, there's a great flare-up between the husband of one of the titular three wives (Kirk Douglas), an English teacher who's a bit of a snob when it comes to popular culture (he can't stand radio dramas, for one thing -- though, as it happens, his wife earns the larger part of their combined household income writing them) and his wife's boss, who, as the guest of honor at the wife's dinner party, has forced all in attendance to listen to the radio for three hours straight.
As she's taking her leave, the boss asks the husband which of the evening's radio programs he most enjoyed. He demurs, not wishing to anger his wife by offending her boss, but the boss persists in posing the question, and he finally can't help himself:
"The purpose of radio writing, as far as I can see, is to prove to the masses that a deodorant can bring happiness, a mouthwash guarantee success, and a laxative attract romance. 'Don't think,' says the radio, 'and we'll pay you for it. Can't spell 'cat'? Too bad, but a yacht and million dollars to the gentleman for being our audience tonight!'" 'Worry!' says the radio. 'Will your best friends not tell you? Will you lose your teeth? Will your cigarettes give you cancer? Will your body function after you're 35? If you don't use our product, you'll lose your husband, your job, and die! Use our product, and we'll make you rich! We'll make you famous!' "
In addition to the terrific writing of Joseph L. Mankiewicz, that speech caught my ear because of the cancer reference. Who knew that cancer was already being connected, at least theoretically, to cigarettes in the 1940s? Well, maybe you did, but I didn't.
It's amazing that the suspicion, at least, of a causal relationship between smoking and cancer already existed that long ago, but it took so much longer to be confirmed and acted upon.
So, that's my life in a nutshell -- watching old movies and listening for snippets that shed a little light on life as it was lived then.
"It is the media's responsibility, and an important one, though very uncomfortable for people in government, to put a very strong spotlight on the government's policies and practices on terrorism, especially given the current disorganization of the federal government's fight against terrorism. In this area, the federal government is in complete disarray. There's been remarkably little attention to the major recommendation the Gilmore Commission made for a substantial reorganization of the government's approach to terrorism. Journalists shouldn't let politicians get away with that."The new administration seems to be paying no attention to the problem of terrorism. What they will do is stagger along until there's a major incident and then suddenly say, 'Oh, my God, shouldn't we be organized to deal with this?' That's too bad. They've been given a window of opportunity with very little terrorism now, and they're not taking advantage of it. Maybe the folks in the press ought to be pushing a little bit."
-- Paul Bremer (yes, that Paul Bremer), February 26, 2001
There's much more in this Chicago Reader story.
Last night, I was the object of open -- even blatant -- flirting.
There are, of course, millions of people in the world for whom such an occurance would hardly merit mention, and I'll admit that it's kind of sad that a simple flirtation should motivate me to undertake a new entry for this journal, but, in my case, it's news.
I'm of the opinion that there's not enough flirting in the world. Sure, we all bat our eyes at those we find attractive, but we should endeavor, I think, to offer fleeting flirtations to even those to whom we are not really drawn. Few acts of generosity yield more delight.
Of course, an intimation of interest is most appreciated when the feeling is mutual, but even when it is not -- as in my encounter last night, alas -- it can be a day brightener. And the flirter invariably rises at least a bit in the flirtee's esteem, so, really, it's a win-win situation. Everyone benefits.
Of course, there are people whose intended flirtations more closely resemble verbal assaults. Coarse remarks and crude come-ons are not what I'm referring to. Subtlety is key.
I'll offer an example. About ten years ago, I was walking east on Central Park South. As I drew near Sixth Avenue, I noted that there was a statuesque beauty, accompanied by an entourage of three or four men, walking toward me. I became aware that the woman was looking right at me, really taking me in, and I wondered whether she perhaps thought she knew me or if, in fact, she, y'know, liked what she saw.
(You should know that I'm blushing even as I type this. I do not, I assure you, generally presume that women who encounter me on the street "like what they see." Quite the opposite, in fact -- and with good reason. But this woman was undeniably giving me the once-over.)
Finally, at the very last moment -- just before we had passed one another going in opposite directions -- I looked more closely at the woman.
It was Uma Thurman
Now, I think we can all safely assume that Ms. Thurman must somehow have thought my face familiar. Considering the circles in which she travels, I'm the first to admit it was terribly unlikely that she was, as my friend Brian used to state it, "giving me the look of love." She can easily do much better.
Nonetheless, you can be certain that every time I've repeated this story (and I've told it often), Ms. Thurman was, indeed, giving me the look of love.
You see what I mean?
One brief flirtation -- and let's face it, it might more accurately be termed a case of mistaken identity on her part -- and I'm still aglow.
So it is that I urge you, B&Y readers. to endeavor to flirt with someone today -- with a stranger, perhaps, or, even better, with someone you might not generally consider desirable. A light touch is called for, remember -- no need to give anyone false hopes or the heebie-jeebies. Just do your part today to ensure that at least person feels a little bit more appealing tonight when he or she goes to bed than they did when they got up this morning.
Dubya's long shown a troubling interest in reviving the bad old days of the Republican Eighties. First he resuscitates a crew of reprobates who first broke the la ... er, served under Ronald Reagan and Dubya's daddy, and now he's reviving the sort of illegal acts that led to the Iran-Contra scandal.
Here's Bob Woodward, as quoted at cbsnews.com from his 60 Minutes appearance last night:
"[On Nov. 21, 2001,] President Bush, after a National Security Council meeting, takes Don Rumsfeld aside, collars him physically, and takes him into a little cubbyhole room and closes the door and says, ‘What have you got in terms of plans for Iraq? What is the status of the war plan? I want you to get on it. I want you to keep it secret.’"Rumsfeld reportedly told Gen. Tommy Franks to develop a war plan to invade Iraq and remove Saddam -- and that Rumsfeld gave Franks a blank check.
”Rumsfeld and Franks work out a deal essentially where Franks can spend any money he needs. And so he starts building runways and pipelines and doing all the preparations in Kuwait, specifically to make war possible.”
“Gets to a point where in July, the end of July 2002, they need $700 million, a large amount of money for all these tasks. And the president approves it. But Congress doesn't know and it is done. They get the money from a supplemental appropriation for the Afghan War, which Congress has approved. …Some people are gonna look at a document called the Constitution which says that no money will be drawn from the Treasury unless appropriated by Congress. Congress was totally in the dark on this."
Woodward is, of course, right about this sort of financial shell games being explicitly prohibited in the Constitution -- specifically in Article I, Section 9, Clause 7.
No Money shall be drawn from the Treasury, but in Consequence of Appropriations made by Law; and a regular Statement and Account of the Receipts and Expenditures of all public Money shall be published from time to time.
This bunch of crooks is not just inept or misguided, folks. They're evil, lying, conniving, dangerous bastards.