Next On The Denu

As you may have guessed, I've pretty much ceased writing about politics in any "serious" way. "Savage Mules" taught me a valuable lesson about what people want to see or not see; and my recent struggles with Huffington Post prove that there's no political outlet willing to publish my critiques. So instead of spinning my tires for zero bucks, I'm returning to the kind of writing -- and in the videos, performing -- that excited and inspired me at the beginning. Only now I have the experience to make that kind of writing better, richer, and hopefully funnier.

The big focus is on the pilot script I'm currently writing. I'll leak more details later, but this project is perfect for the present cultural moment, which means I must finish it soon. When it's done, I'll send it to my LA contacts for their input and help. Ideally, this is an HBO or Showtime series, but it can work elsewhere. It's a dramedy, the humor dark and sometimes physical. It also deals with class, how tenuous one's place is within the grand American delusion. It's something a lot of people can relate to, especially now, which is why I must get back to work.

I'll still be doing the blog dance, for the time being, anyway. This is fun, but I need to move on to bigger things.

Out Of Time

Thoughts of nonexistence make me increasingly serene. I'm starting to get what robed Eastern monks have been yammering about for centuries, and I may resume sculpting that beer can Buddha shrine I abandoned years ago. Or I may just hustle rubes over darts at the local brewery. Depends on my mood.

Looking at the countless religions, statements of faith, violence and corruption anchoring those faiths, desperate, manipulative visions of endless afterlifes, and the sectarian bellowing that serves as the soundtrack, I suspect that my serenity is a minority taste. Most people want to live forever, have awareness for eternity. I've understood this desire at various levels throughout my life, but never really shared it.

I think that eternal life would drive me nuts. Oh, I'd go with it for awhile, maybe the first 70 years or so. But after a century of death-free living, boredom would set in, tedium unknown in the physical world, and hence more crushing. And there'd be no escape, unless the next life has an afterlife of its own, and another after that, and on and on.

Now there's a play for you! All these doors leading to different levels of awareness, but in the end, it turns out to be the same room! Man, would that throw an audience! But it might also make them think, at least before they realize they'd been taken and they trash the box office, demanding their money back.

And I don't buy the conceit that in the afterlife, you'd be rubbing shoulders with the greats. I've known at least five guitar players who said that when they die, they'll be jamming with Jimi Hendrix or Stevie Ray Vaughn. What narcissistic fantasy. Did it ever occur to them that Hendrix and Vaughn, having nothing more to prove as guitarists, might be completely out of the music scene? Hendrix could be an innovative botanist, and here come a bunch of lesser, dead musicians clamoring to play "Purple Haze" with him. That's gotta blow, especially if he's just discovered a new strain of celestial plant fiber that requires his full attention.

Eternal life is bound to disappoint, so oblivion is probably the way to go. This has been reinforced by "Life After People," a History Channel show I recently discovered. The first time I watched this, I felt at peace. It soothed my nerves and eased my anxiety. George Carlin once said that far from destroying the Earth, people will be shaken off like dandruff, allowing the planet to reboot itself, eventually destroying most if not all traces of human existence.

Except for Mount Rushmore?



Figures.

For A Very Special Lady

Saddam Was Hanged For Less

But then, American war criminals have always been a slippery breed -- those surrounding JFK most especially. Few have skewered the Kennedy liberals as accurately as has Noam. His reaction to Robert McNamara's "second thoughts" about Vietnam still rings true:

"What were the misgivings? The misgivings were that it might not succeed. Suppose that some Nazi general came around after Stalingrad and said, 'I realized after Stalingrad it was a mistake to fight a two-front war, but I did it anyway.' That's not the Nuremberg defense. That's not even recognizing that a crime was committed. You've got to recognize that a crime was committed before you give a defense. McNamara can't perceive that. Furthermore, I don't say that as a criticism of McNamara. He is a dull, narrow technocrat who questioned nothing. He simply accepted the framework of beliefs of the people around him. And that's their framework. That's the Kennedy liberals. We cannot commit a crime. It's contradiction in terms. Anything we do is by necessity not only right, but noble. Therefore, there can't be a crime.

"If you look at his mea culpa, he's apologizing to the American people. He sent American soldiers to fight an unwinnable war, which he thought early on was unwinnable. The cost was to the U.S. It tore the country apart. It left people disillusioned and skeptical of the government. That's the cost. Yes, there were those three million or more Vietnamese who got killed. The Cambodians and Laotians are totally missing from his story. There were a million or so of them. There's no apology to them."

Before you read the mainstream obits, read the rest of this.

Suck It, Kimster!

Holiday Viewing Suggestions

Scene from Rankin/Bass' holiday classic, "Uncle Sam's Secret Life" (1976)

To The Moon For Which It Stands (1953) An attempt to claim the moon as the 49th state goes awry when the crew of the USS U.S. Grant (Tom Ewell, Phil Silvers, Corny the Chimp) take a wrong turn and end up on a hidden planet run by communist bathing beauties. Incensed by the American invasion, the space women put on a fashion show, driving the astronauts to renounce free enterprise, until Corny unplugs the hypno-ray, breaking the commie spell, leading to a beach party the likes of which Tootstopia has never seen! With Beverly Garland and Cloris Leachman.

Kick The Kaiser's Keister (1935) Bert Wheeler and Robert Woolsey play reluctant Army draftees who somehow end up behind German lines during WWI. The boys trick a couple of drunken plumbers out of their clothes, hook up with two apolitical beer garten waitresses (Sunny Sims and Mabel Jung), con and sing their way to the top of Germany's military command where they not only dismantle the German war machine, but stop the Russian revolution, restore the Habsburg dynasty, and become sauerkraut tycoons, before the plumbers they tricked wake up and demand their clothes back. Songs include "Bavarian Cutie Pie" and "Smile When You Schnitzel."

The Pounding Fathers (1981) Bob Guccione's follow-up to "Caligula." Washington (Dabney Coleman) and Franklin (Mac Davis) are swinging libertines who pimp out high-end colonial call girls, until Betsy Ross (Helen Mirren) wants a piece of the action, sending the young republic into an orgy of betrayal and hard-core sex. Alexander Hamilton (Wayland Flowers) tries to exploit the sexual chaos by making himself America's reigning sovereign, but is stopped by Thomas Jefferson (Norman Mailer), Sally Hemings (Pam Grier), and an army of horny slaves who fuck the Continental Congress back to political health. Jesus (Cheech Marin) descends to bless the new nation, but is so disgusted by the scene that he throws up and takes the next hundred years off. With Evel Knievel as Jumpin' James Madison.

World War WOW! (1969) Nate Nichols (Dick Van Dyke) wants to stage a reenactment of the Normandy invasion for Tuttle, PA's Fourth of July celebration, but can only find unemployed hippies to play the roles. Determined to realize his vision, Nate runs endless rehearsals, until his leading men (Rob Reiner and Beau Bridges) dose his sherry with LSD, causing Nate to rewrite D-Day as a Hopi dance ritual. Angry Tuttlites, led by barber Jake Nester (Ernest Borgnine), try to stop the performance just as Ethel Merman's tour bus breaks down nearby. Merman brings Tuttle together by singing patriotic show tunes set to psychedelic music. The pharmacy suddenly explodes and burns, but everyone's in too good a mood to care. With Scatman Crothers and the 1910 Fruitgum Company.

Independunce Day (1973) Futuristic look at early 21st century America, where widespread ignorance, apathy, and technological distractions turn the US into an overfed mega-state ruled by elite private interests with financial and military designs on energy-rich segments of the Earth. Leonard Nimoy plays The Instructor, who wanders through this nightmare landscape, explaining how average Americans are so deep in debt and lack the political power and will necessary to change matters that they look instead to a smooth-talking Messiah figure (Cleavon Little) who promises to make it all better while actually maintaining the status quo. Chilling to watch even today.

Follow The Funny

My friend Tom Kramer is steadily posting his short films from "Fridays," all of which are in mint condition. At some point, these and the rest of that old but influential show will appear in a DVD box set, though when is still being discussed. What is happening is a "Fridays" reunion next spring, to celebrate the show's 30th anniversary. I've been invited to attend, which still has my head spinning. I can't wait.

There've been mini-"Fridays" reunions on Tom's online radio show, "Funny Is Money," co-hosted by another pal, comedy vet Bob Iles. Tom and Bob have chatted with producer John Moffitt, original head writer Jack Burns, and staff writer Bruce Kirschbaum. I've been on FIM twice to discuss "Fridays," but alas, was not part of the original show. Larry Charles, director of "Borat" and the upcoming "Brüno," was, and appears on the next FIM airing at Shokus Radio starting Monday. Here's LC with Bob in the Orioles cap, and Tom.



Here's Tom's parody of "Chariots Of Fire," a film that was satirized all over the place in 1981. This one features Darrow Igus, Mark Blankfield, and Larry David.



Then it's Punk Ballet, with Peter Fonda and Bruce Mahler. A younger Tom appears briefly in the dressing room scene, a punk Hitchcock cameo in a gray sweatshirt.



Finally, a young boy brings home a new friend, introduced by wise-cracking ballerina Melanie Chartoff.