HAVING A FIELDS DAY

“The best cure for insomnia is to get a lot of sleep.” –W.C. Fields

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As far back as I can recall, I’ve been a fanatic fan/addict of the great comedy stars of the 1920s to early 40s: Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton, The Marx Brothers, Laurel & Hardy — and the most irascible of them all, Wm. Claude Dukenfield (better known as W.C. Fields). On this, his birthday, I mean to stay awake, have a Fields day with this post, and drink a toast to the man who “Once during Prohibition, was forced to live for days on nothing but food and water”….and also contrived to “gargle with whiskey several times a day, and I haven’t had a cold in years.”

Fields was born April 9, 1879 in Philadelphia. Although he ran away from home at an early age, he thought often of his hometown. For example , many years later, he remarked that “Last week, I went to Philadelphia, but it was closed.” On another occasion, he said “I once spent a year in Philadelphia–I think it was on a Sunday.” Asked what he wanted for the epitaph on his tombstone, he replied “On the whole, I’d rather be in Philadelphia.” To prove it, here’s his last request (about 50 seconds into this trailer):

According to film historian Raymond Rohauer, “Fields always presented himself on screen as a braggart, a windbag, and a schemer–and perpetually in need of or in search for a drink. And if he happened to have emerged from his perennial fight with a hostile world, then surely it was by accident. Still, the audience sympathized with him, not because of any hectic antics, but because he was invariably surrounded by such repulsive villains and sheer imbeciles that his own vices appeared, if not necessarily endearing, at least comparatively acceptable.”

Earlier, we touched on Fields’ “last words.” In the spirit(s) of this celebration, we close with more quotes to pour over:

“I never worry about being driven to drink; I just worry about being driven home.”

“What contemptible scoundrel stole the cork from my lunch?”

“Always carry a flagon of whiskey in case of snake bite, and furthermore always carry a small snake.”

“A woman drove me to drink and I didn’t even have the decency to thank her.”

“It is hard to lose a mother-in-law. Almost impossible.”

“Women are like elephants. I like to look at ’em, but I wouldn’t want to own one.”

“If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again; then quit–there’s no use being a damn fool about it.”

“Start every day off with a smile and get it over with.”

“If I had my life to live over, I’d live over a saloon.”

“The world is getting to be such a dangerous place, a man is lucky to get out of it alive.”

Fields didn’t get out of it alive — but luckily, the words of his war with the world did….and even in Philadelphia, that’s PA (pretty acceptable).

DEAD MEN LEAVE NO ENTRAILS

“Death is a very dull, dreary affair, and my advice to you is to have nothing whatever to do with it.” –Somerset Maugham

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Once upon a time, I published a very dreary little book of poems and epitaphs, titled GONERS. Today, April 6, being PLAN YOUR EPITAPH DAY, and April being NATIONAL POETRY MONTH, I thought I’d dig up what’s left of that cryptic tome and (having nothing better to post) see what I could do with a slew of its bygone remains. I’m counting on findng good bones, because no doubt the meat of the missive has long since become the diet of worms.

OLD ED YOUNG

Dismissed as “minor” poet
By critics half his age,
Young, Edward, found no solace
Could pacify his rage.

Yet, his epitaph managed
Homage to his skewers:
Those who can are poets;
Those who can’t, reviewers.

LET NO MAN WRONG MY EPITAPH

Here, for good, lies Chastity Wood,
Her casket wood, sin’s snares withstood.
The wood without is without flaw.
The Wood within, men never saw.

SATAN NEVER SLEEPS

So. Help me God!

IN THE HEAT OF THE NIGHT

Now I lay me down to sleep;
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake,
I pray there’s been ONE HELLUVA MISTAKE.

POETIC LIAR-SENSE

The Great American Novel
Is the Everest of climbs;
I have written it myself
Any number of times.

And I have written lyrics
To the music of the Spheres;
The sound is magic to the soul
….and yet, tragic for the ears.

One last triumph yet remains
When, at my mortal ending,
Doth expire the greatest lyre
Since Orpheus descending.

HELL TO PAY

Ego
Ergo
We go.

ALL THIS AND HEAVEN TOO?

Lord, what fools these mortals be
….and You get to watch for free.

JOURNEY’S END, JOGGINS, NOVA SCOTIA

On the fossil beach at Joggins,
One finds fossil bods and noggins.
Comes high tide, the sea Atlantic
Summons sleep with the Titanic.

IMPOLI-TICK

Tempus fugit.
Please excuse it.

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Please excuse it? Hold on. Where is the life that late I led?

E-Z P-Z PLEASE-Z ME-Z

If you (like me) have noticed the growing trendiness lately of the term “easy peasy,” you (like me) may have wondered where this seemingly recent phrase originated….so I decided to check into it. Turns out that it’s not all that recent. I was in fact please-zeed to learn that its first known appearance was in the January 17, 1953 edition of my hometown newspaper, The Cincinnati Enquirer: in a review of the 1952 film BREAKING THE SOUND BARRIER, journalist Ellis Radcliffe wrote “The flight is such an easy-peasy affair for the air travelers….”

It should come as no surprise to my regular readers to hear that this gave me an idea for a ‘songs’ post — specifically. a post about songs with the word EASY in the title. Lucky for you, I remember several such songs from the Golden Age of Popular Music, and they are decidedly….

Listening to a great vocalist sing a great song by a great composer — now that’s what I call….

It is said that When you gotta go, you gotta go — but why not go as we came?

THIS POST IS NOBODY’S BUSINESS

You might think a song about nobody wouldn’t appeal to anybody, but lots of somebodies thought otherwise back in the day. “Nobody” songs did good business in the 1920s to early 40s, as anybody who’s well versed in that era’s popular music can demonstrate….speaking of which, I would love to parade some examples before you here and now:

And then there’s the ‘meme’ song of Casper, The Friendly Ghost:

Casper first appeared in 1945. but here’s a 1921 hit which had an afterlife when Judy Garland sang it in this 1940 film….

Even if you ain’t got no body, I hope you were still able to get into the spirit of things, like most ghosts seem able to. I’m guessing it’s just a matter of believing in yourself.

TEN INFERNAL QUESTIONS

“By nature’s kindly disposition, most questions which it is beyond man’s power to answer do not occur to him at all.” –George Santayana, philosopher

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Every once in a while, I peruse my bookshelves looking for a book I haven’t yet read ((of which I have more than a few), or even a book I may want to re-acquaint myself with or consider discarding. The other day, I dusted off one such even/or tome titled TEN ETERNAL QUESTIONS, in which the author asked notable leaders, artists and scientists such questions as Do you think this life is all there is or do you believe in an afterlife?, Do you believe you have a destiny?, and What advice or words of wisdom would you like to pass on to those close to you?

A sample answer is the following (partial) reply by actor Peter Ustinov to the first question above: “We believe in eternity out of fear that all this acquisition of knowledge is there for no reason at all. It seems a terrible waste. At the same time I am just as terrified by the idea of immortality: where does it lead to?”

As you may surmise, the book in question(s) is probably not of interest to the incurious know-nothings George Santayana must have had in mind. But my readers are nothing if not questionable, so I have decided to do a post of even more grave and stupefying questions to ponder, which I have apparently titled TEN INFERNAL QUESTIONS. Feel free to bypass any of the questions which may cause your head to explode, as I certainly don’t want your scattered brain bits on my conscience. And just to get you off on the right foot, I will follow the first question with the answer.

Why did Yankee Doodle call the feather in his hat macaroni?

If space is a vacuum, where do you plug it in?

How is it possible to survive being scared half-to-death twice?

If man evolved from monkeys and apes, why are there still monkeys and apes?

Why are there interstate highways in Hawaii?

If you had to give up drinking alcohol or wiping your butt, which would you choose?

Can you imagine a world with no hypothetical situations?

If the 7-11 is open 24-7 365 days a year, why are there locks on the doors?

When cheese gets its picture taken, what does it say?

That’s ten. No doubt you’re begging for more, but it’s out of the question.

THE PUN GENT SMELLS OF PUNS

“Hanging is too good for a man who makes puns; he should be drawn and quoted.” –Fred Allen, humorist

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As my wronged-suffering readers can tell you, I have been known to make them groan with the brilliance of my puns from time to time….but I’ll be the first to conceit that other puns are occasionally as fragrant as mine. Here are a few so fulgent, I no doubt would have composted them myself, if others hadn’t beaten me to the pun:

Why did the pencil smell so bad?
It was a number 2.

Have you heard the one about the flower that never bloomed?
It was a bud omen.

Patient to psychologist: “Doctor, doctor! I think I’m a wigwam, then I think I’m a tepee. I’m a wigwam, I’m a tepee. I’m a wigwam, I’m a tepee…”
“Relax,” says the shrink. “You’re just two tense.”

A hangover is the wrath of grapes.

You may think that’s enough pun-ishment for one post, but try telling that to these thankful guys:

You’re welcome.

ARTISTS AND MOGULS

Pair-enthetically speaking, polar-opposite people fall into two classifications; e.g.: extrovert and introvert, progressive and conservative, world-wise and gullible, etc. One can even find two opposites in one person:

There is another split as uncompromising (but arguably not as open-and-shut) as those above….and that is the great divide between creative people (including creative artists/those who appreciate them), and those without a creative bone in their dna. Seldom is this chasm more pronounced than in the post-silent film era known as The Golden Age of Hollywood, when movie moguls such as Samuel Goldwyn ruled the roost, and creators like William Wyler (director of such acclaimed films as DODSWORTH and THE BEST YEARS OF OUR LIVES) fought for creative control of the movies they directed. The following passage from the Wyler biography A TALENT FOR TROUBLE typifies their separate tracks:

Not long before filming ended on Dodsworth, Wyler was summoned to Goldwyn’s home. He arrived in a pleasant frame of mind, having heard his boss was happy with the nearly completed footage. But Wyler was not greeted by a happy man.
Goldwyn, recovering from a gall bladder operation and the extraction of his appendix, had been unable to keep his usual close watch on the progress of his productions. Though he liked what he’d been shown of Dodsworth, he positively loathed the footage of Come and Get It, which Howard Hawks was filming.
Hawks had rewritten some of the script and improvised scenes. An infuriated Goldwyn had called Hawks on the carpet and fired him. Now Goldwyn needed someone to finish Come and Get It. His new favorite, Wyler, quickly came to mind.
Goldwyn suggested the idea gently. Wyler begged off gently. “I can’t just walk into another man’s picture,” he said.
Goldwyn insisted. Wyler declined, more firmly. This sent Goldwyn into a temper tantrum.
“We had a scene I’ll never forget. Sam was in bed, but he raised such hell that Frances, his wife, ran in with a flyswatter and started beating him over the legs while he was screaming at me. He said he was going to ruin me, fix it so I’d never be able to get another job in Hollywood as long as I lived.”
“I ended up doing it because in those days guys like Goldwyn and Louis B. Mayer could ruin you.”

So the next time you watch a Golden Age movie classic with its glamorous stars and character actors bringing to life the creative vision of its writers and director, know that what you see on the screen may be less dramatic than what went on behind the scenes.

P.S. Were you wondering where I got the idea for the title of this post? I didn’t think so….but I’ll tell you anyway. It’s a play on the title of the 1937 film ARTISTS AND MODELS (in which this song played a part):

NOTHING DOING

Since my last post, nothing has come to mind as a subject for my next post. Thus I’m doing nothing for this post, which happens to be my next post. As for my next post, what I’ll post remains to be seen, but hopefully I’ll come up with something. Meanwhile, I got nothin’ better to do, so let’s do it!

Am I doing nothin’ good, or what? What’s that you say: more like good for nothin’! But there’s more to it, and here’s the “but” part:

And with that (and this), I rest my case:

BONSOIR OF THE VANITIES

Vanity of vanities, all is vanity. –Ecclesiastes

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This headline on an article in this morning’s newspaper caught my eye:

OHIO REJECTED MORE THAN 460 VANITY PLATES IN 2020

According to the article, the Ohio Bureau of Motor Vehicles rejected 462 custom (aka vanity) license plate requests in 2020, “largely for profanity or sexually explicit phrases.” Among the requests doomed to go un-gently into that good night were F U COVID, FURONA, FK COVID, F 2020, F U BIDEN, FUK TRMP, and GOT2P. No doubt, a maximum of seven characters limited the number of ‘dirty’ vanity submissions seeking admission to the state’s clean plate club.

Now, tempting though it be to Follow Up the Foregoing Uncivil liberties with some Forbidden Umbrages of my own creation, my sense of good taste must prevail ere I offend the delicate sensibilities of my high class audience. But what’s that I hear….

Yes, Loudly Let the Trumpet Bray —
Such vanity is nothing but fool’s play.
Those Mother F***ers tried to win the day
Now the Other F***ers will have their say:

If it isn’t vanity, what is it that drives a man to make his son grow up just like his father? –Evan Esar (What say you, Trump et al?)

The highest form of vanity is love of fame. –George Sanayana

The only cure for vanity is laughter, and the only fault that’s laughable is vanity. –Henri Bergson

Vanity is becoming a nuisance. I can see why women give it up, eventually. But I’m not ready for that yet. –Margaret Atwood

Vanity is the quicksand of reason. –George Sand (pen name of Amatine Lucile Dupin)

My vanity is excessive: wherever I sit is the head of the table. –H. L. Mencken

OLD SAYINGS FOR SALE

By the look of things, one of the worst transgressions one can commit these days is to own something that is “outdated.” The thing may be perfectly functional, but when the seductiveness of a shiny new model is insinuated in your head (regardless of whether it’s an improvement), chances are you’ll abjurus the old and covetus the new modus, lestus your status operandi turn corpus delicti.

With that in mind, let us sell out some of our old sayings (though they may retain continuing utility), because you certainly don’t want to be caught dead echoing words which put you in grave danger of being looked down on. Lucky for you, I have started the dirty work of updating enough outmoded sayings to teach you that old dogs can turn new tricks. If these don’t inspire you to take up where I leave off….

If you can’t stand the heat, sit down.

Malpractice makes perfidy.

Alimony is the loot of all evil.

Beauty is beholder deep and pound foolish

The.road to Hell is paved with good inventions (lies).

Familiarity breeds consequences

Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t know (except for Trump).

Jack of small tirades and Mistermuse of pun.

That last one can be taken with a grain of solvent.