MAD Magazine Memories My Murky Mind Mustily Maintains

Today February 15, 2026 is my cousin Sammy's 84th Birthday

It's also my neighbor Darnell Moore's Birthday as well! 

Not that either event has anything directly to do with this post, save that... 

    Today is also the day I happened on TVintage.com where they have all 550 issues of MAD Magazine (minus the specials) digitally stored.

The third, Harvey Kurtzman logo design (1956-1964) I liked best.

     Growing up in the 1960’s, I simply loved MAD Magazine. A young budding artist myself, many a delightful hour were times spent pouring over the works and humor of MAD’s accomplished staff of illustrators: Sergio Aragonés, Dave Berg, Mort Drucker (my personal favorite), Al Jaffee, Don Martin, Antonio Prohías, Jack Rickard, Basil Wolverton, Wallace Wood to name a few. To this day I owe my quirky illustrative sense of the ironic to this publication.

     However, MAD didn't come life into my right away, and it took until my older sister brought an issue home from high school before I saw my first copy. When exactly that was, I began to wonder, as I downloaded this new discovered digital treasure trove. Was I eight? Or 9? Hmm.

    However was a way to help determine the date.

    My earliest recollection, you see, involved three distinct images. Two came from within the pages of the magazine, and the other was a cover. Find them, and I’ll have pinpointed the year I discovered MAD. Therefore, starting with the oldest memory, I'll tackle the one panel first, then the cover, and lastly the second panel.

    The first panel I recall was a parody of Captain Kittinger's historic skydive in 1960. Having, in my childhood, already seen the iconic photograph of Kittinger leaping from the gondola, I was then well enough familiar with it to instantly recognize its reproduction in MAD.

    I located the Kittinger recreation: From MAD Magazine, March 1961, Volume I, Issue 61, page 46:

The earliest MAD Magazine panel (highlighted) I can confidently remember.

    So I was at the very youngest, just over six and a half years old when I spied my first MAD, Mad itself was nine years old!

Below is the 1960, Kittinger freefall jump, fresh in the news, that MAD was parodying in the above panel. I have also provided some background information on the skydive courtesy of Wikipedia.

Captain Joseph Kittinger's August 16, 1960 freefall jump from Excelsior III (102,800 feet)

 

Wikipedia: "Excelsior III: On August 16, 1960, [Captain Joseph] Kittinger made the final high-altitude jump at 102,800 feet* (31,300 m). Towing a small drogue parachute for initial stabilization, he fell for 4 minutes and 36 seconds, reaching a maximum speed of 614 miles per hour (988 km/h) before opening his parachute at 18,000 feet."

*Like the MAD article said, 19 miles or 19.469697 miles to be precise.

 

 

        The second image, a cover illustration, was that of Greek-style, public edifice with Alfred E. Newman not holding up his share of the capital. This should be easy enough to find.

    Voila! Mad Magazine September 1961, Volume I, Issue 65! 

This is earliest MAD Magazine cover I can actually recall.

 

 Quid Me Anxius Sum?

What? Me worry?

Literal translation: What am I worried about?

Another Latin way to write the phrase: Quid? Sollicite me?

 

      The third image involved a panel depicting an outer space creature entering the airlock or view portal of a rocketship much to the alarm of the pilot. As a child learning to read, here too, is where the first MAD Magazine word I ever learned, having read it by my very self was 'Lummox", which at the time, I assumed was the name of the creature. It wasn't. 

     Nevertheless, here it is! 

    From Mad Magazine, April 1961, Volume I, Issue 62, Page 15: The art, would you believe it, is by none other than Wally Wood (Woody) himself!

The second panel and the very first MAD word (highlighted) I ever read: Lummox!
Art by Wallace Wood

 

  Respectively, these are the covers for Issue 61 and Issue 62, but which failed to make an impression.

The issue containing the panel,
but whose cover did not enter my memory.

 

The MAD issue featuring the "Lummox" panel.

 

    One thing I have to point out, in reviewing the 1961 issues, is that I recognize an earlier image from January 1961 copy of MAD Magazine. It's Charlie Brown and Lucy as drawn by someone other than Charles Schulz. Is it because my sister had that issue, and I merely forgot the illustration after all these years? Or is it because the fake ad was later reprinted in a MAD Magazine Special Edition (usually a collection of its prior publications)?

    Here is the said drawing from the inside front cover of MAD Magazine, January 1961, Volume I, Issue 60.

Possibly the earliest MAD parody artwork I recognize today, 
though most likely it's from a MAD special reprint.

     The famous half right side up, half upside down, MAD Magazine, January 1961, Volume I, Issue 60

 

The double-sided, "upside-down" issue
featuring the above Peanuts parody. 

 

Five Years

From my Facebook feed for today:

On this February morning, the fifth anniversary of my sister’s passing, I just wanted to again remember her.
This studio portrait was from her high school days and senior year at Polytechnic in San Francisco.
The summer of love.
With love,
Richard
Pictured: Angelica Ingrid Alma Staley.

Angelica Ingrid Alma Staley nee Sanchez (1967)

This second image below dates to when, I don’t know. Steve Staley, her future husband, is the photographer however. During their courtship and throughout their marriage, he and my sister would often go on random photo outings to wherever - the location too, escapes me. Steve, a camera buff, loved photographing Angie every chance he could. I wonder if they were still just dating or already newlyweds, when this picture was snapped.

Angie, in the role of a photo subject, posing for Steve, someplace somewhere.

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The Roosevelt

[NOTE: Due to the news of the untimely passing of one of my favorite comediennes, Catherine O'Hara, four days after I posted this fourth post for the month of January (2026-01-26) I have moved this minor entry to the top of February instead.]




From a 2026-01-26 reply to post from my ‘San Francisco Remembered' Facebook group.

i

My very first memory, or possibly my second,* was there.

It was the Roosevelt then, and I recalled watching a clip from George Melies' 'A Trip to the Moon' followed a little later by Cantinflas' Passeportout. He was madly scrambling to catch a hot air balloon just in the nick of time. 

Both scenes were from the Michael Todd 1956 extravaganza, 'Around the World in Eighty Days'. 

I was two.

;-)

*The other memory competing for first place is the time an old, unused stove fell over and swallowed me whole!

This overview of the theater’s history by Tom Mayer is from Cinema Treasures:

This Mission district neighborhood theatre opened as the Roosevelt Theatre on September 22, 1926 with Norma Talmadge in “Kiki”. It had 1,006-seats and was designed by the architrectural furm Reid Brothers. In 1946 it was remodeled to the plans of architect Otto A. Deichmann. It retained the Roosevelt name until at least 1957. By 1971 it had been renamed Teatro York screening Spanish language movies. In later years the theatre was known as the York Theatre which was programed as a repertory movie theatre in the 1980’s.

The York Theatre closed as a movie house in 1993.

In the fall of 2001, the theatre was restored and reopened as Brava Women’s Theater Arts.

The theatre has retained its screen for movies but is now primarily a performing arts center.

Contributed by Tom Mayer

1951 look at the theatre from the San Francisco Assessor's Office

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Catherine O'Hara (1954 - 2026) [This post just requires tags.]

     It is with sadness I woke up today, only to learn of our having lost Catherine O'Hara, one of my favorite comediennes since I first learned of SCTV back in 1979. 

     She will join the ranks of her fellow Second City and SCTV alumni who have gone on ahead of her: John Belushi, Gilda Radner, John Candy, Harold Ramis, Tony Rosato, Robin Duke, and Joe Flaherty

 

     Here's what I posted on my Facebook today:

    "Just learned the sad news of comedienne Catherine O'Hara's passing, here seen in the foreground, downstage of fellow actress Andrea Martin, in one of my favorite SCTV skits, the infamous parody of Ingmar Bergman, titled 'Whispers of the Wolf'

 

 

Post script: Today, I no longer laugh..."

 

     Later in the day, I able to locate the aforementioned skit on YouTube. Hopefully, copyright won't impede its upload to this post. Otherwise I might have to see if I can re-upload it to my YouTube account and link to it there. Here goes. 

 

 

 

 

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Iced. [This post just requires tags.]

In less than a month.

 

 

Keith Porter Jr

Keith Porter Jr. Murdered by an off duty ICE officer just minutes prior to the New Year, December 31st, 2025

 

Rene Nicole Good

Rene Nicole Good. Murdered at point blank range in her SUV, January 7th, 2026

 

 Alex Jeffrey Pretti

Alex Jeffrey Pretti. Pinned to the ground and shot in the back some dozen or more times. 

These are the current deaths to say nothing of the more that have already died at ICE's hand.

 

A Year and Ten Days Out [This post just requires tags.]

    Nothing special. 

    I just happened to notice the calendar date my sister spontaneously had the front yard trees once again addressed: a year and ten days after last January’s task. (See: January 5th, 2025’s post).

Opportunistic

"Live Long and Just for Good Measure..."* [This post just requires tags.]

Happy New Year!

 

;-)

 

 

*This post was created, on the spot, as a good-natured response to Jörg's first comment to Mano Singham's 'Hope for the New Year' post on Freethought Blogs. [On a side note: I am going to try once again for four posts a month. Hopefully, I will end 2026 with a totality of forty eight blog posts; not forty four (2024) or fifty (2025), but a symmetrical forty eight!]

 Oh and as to my hopes for the new year… Typically, under Trump's despotism, we illegally invaded Venezuela less than twenty four hours into it. Hell, even before the new year struck, an off-duty ICE officer would murder Keith Porter, while another ICE officer, Jonathan Ross, would kill at point blank range, Renee Nicole Good eight days later!

Quinn's Kanamit [This post just requires tags.]

[Seeing as I went over my limit of forty eight posts for the year, I therefore decided to add this extra post to round 2025’s entries to an even fifty.]

    Recently a Facebook post highlighting actor Richard Kiel's early film work in the sci-fi genre, prompted me to recount my real-world "run-in" with him (unbeknownst to me) later in life. 

    I wrote: 

"Richard Kiel once sat, back to back, directly behind me to enjoy a birthday lunch with family. When he left the restaurant, I was the only one who did not know he had been there, all 7’2’’ of him!

I was also the only one who knew his name, with everyone else present clamoring 'Jaws' after the fact.

Nothing escapes me! Kanamits, Solarites notwithstanding!"

Richard Kiel as a Kanamit in The Twilight Zone episode 'To Serve Man' (1962)

         For true, for true, it actually happened one September 13th, Saturday early afternoon at Quinns Lighthouse Restaurant & Pub in Oakland, California!* I was residing in Oakland at the time and had walked to the establishment to join my twin sister, Georgene, her then boyfriend John, to celebrate the birthday of Harro Kleem, the husband in 2003, of my eldest sister Yvette.

    The five of us were seated together in the middle of the room, two tables having been joined together for us. Steve and Angie Staley, our middle sister were away at the time and could not join us, and so it was just we five.

     Some ten or fifteen minutes I heard the chairs of the table directly behind my back being scooted out for other dinner guests. They took their seats, with me thinking nothing of it as I chatted away. We then ate our meals then celebrated my sister’s then husband’s sixty fifth birthday with toasts and cake. The party at the table behind me ate and conversed quietly.

     Every one around me seemed lively, no doubt enjoying the occasion, but because we had so much yet to celebrate, the guests directly at my back finished first. Once again, I heard the understandable scooting of chairs, the shuffle of feet, and the rustle of clothing. The waiter, our waiter rushed over to see them out of the restaurant. 

     Then they were gone, as expected of course, and my conversation, having no reason so to do, barely slowed. That is until the waiter breathlessly returned.

    “Do you know who that was?!”

Quinns Lighthouse Restaurant & Pub, Oakland, California Photo credit: Teena Tran

     “Jaws! Jaws!” buzzed virtually everyone around me! “James Bond, Jaws!!” “I recognized him right away!” clamored Harro, who sat on the same side of the table as I facing away from the diners in question. “His hands were so huge!’ observed Yvette.**

     “Richard Kiel? Here?!” I was the only one in the restaurant knowing the actor by name.

      “You didn’t noticed??!!” amazed the others. 

    I could have kicked myself! A ate with a nine foot Kanamit straight behind me! Eegah, all seven foot two inches of him, dined adjacent to me! A Solarite, a human duplicator, Voltaire… I could name right then a list of his characters in addition to Jaws… And I had totally and utterly missed him!!

   “He came to celebrate his birthday with his -  !” the waiter voice dropped. (I got the distinct impression, the concluding word was “parents” not “family”, “relations”, nor “relatives”. The people with Kiel were related to him. And I recalled the murmur of their hushed voices sounding mature - elderly. Kiel for his part, chose to speak not a peep at all, else I would have recognized the manner, timbre, and inflection of his unmistakable voice.]

    Yet, as far as my having spotted him. My back was to the entrance, and turned away, so there was no need for me to look at anyone arriving after us. Even taking the seats at the table would not have been sufficient cause to pique my interest. What reason would I otherwise have to stare at complete strangers or turn my self or my chair rudely around just to gawk at nothing?

    Kiel for certain, isn’t nothing. Far from it, in physical stature alone, he’s more something than most, but again, I had no reason, whatsoever to suspect a single thing. Moreover, no one, I mean absolutely nobody, gave me any indication something special was afoot - not the slightest heads-up or clue. Everyone at my table instead played it cool. The waiter made nary a mention, charged with safeguarding, at the risk of his job, the actor’s “anonymity”, er, privacy. He only spilled the beans after Kiel’s departure. Everyone else did likewise.

    So would I, had I known of the celebrity’s immediate presence.

    I didn’t; so I was doubly dumb!

    Kiel and Harro share the same birthday?! Damn!***

    I totally overlooked the literally larger than life performer?! Damn and double-damn!! 

Richard Kiel, wife Diane, and Family (1982)

    Above is a picture of Richard Kiel that I like: a normal loving, family man against character type with respect to the movie roles he is often assigned.

*QUINN’S LIGHTHOUSE RESTAURANT & PUB

Saturday, September 13, 2003 or 2008 (I think it's the former date, however).

**Yvette saw Kiel enter (she sat facing the entrance) but didn’t immediately realize it was him, she later admitted. Whether due to physical issues and advancing age, or wish to appear smaller, he kept a “very low profile” she stated. I have never asked her to clarify what she exactly meant by that euphemism, suffice to say it made me wonder if Kiel was hunched down at the time.

***Kiel was born in 1939, a year after my former brother-in-law.

 

Thirty [This post just requires tags.]

 

  I realize this entry makes it the forty ninth post of the year (the target was forty eight) but I really felt need to acknowledge the thirtieth anniversary of my mom’s passing which will occur today a little under an hour now as I write these words. The post will be published at the moment the anniversary is reached.

(The 1992 image above is the last snapshot taken of mom. She had just undergone a delicate craniotomy to have a small tumor from the brain removed, and was recuperating at the residence of my sister Yvette for about a week.)

'The Thing vs Bumble: A Christmas Mashup' [This post just requires tags.]

This being the holidays, I was working on a color cut 'n' paste of Bumble, the abominable snow monster of the North (see below) and creating a simple snowy landscape for him, when out of left field, inspiration struck! I suddenly recalled a memorable scene from another production likewise set in the high arctic, and - humorously marrying the two - presto!

Bumble, the Abominable Snow Monster of the North, from the holiday television classic: 'Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer' (1964)

Howard Hawks' 'The Thing from Another World' (1951)

Meanwhile, on the homefront, my sister Yvette gave me a fabulous Christmas gift, that she just couldn't resist.

'We come in peace, and with good will!"

Gort (Lock Martin) and Klaatu (Michael Rennie) figurines inspired by 'The Day the Earth Stood Still' (1951)

Pun [This post is under construction.]

 

     This is a follow-up to my October 2nd, 2025 post: 'My Steel Trap Mind!'; in particular, to the addendum, wherein I related the number of years it took myself and Trish to realize the deliberately placed pun in the The Beatles' name.

    Somehow, I momentarily forgot that I had made mention of the matter, and started to create a new post, falsely assuming the anecdote about The Fab Four, Trish, and I, had been overlooked.

    I'm glad to learn that such was not the case, but in doing a little background research on the logo I had intended to use to head this post making up for that presumed lapse, I nevertheless learned a few bits of nifty trivia along the way. 

    So I am going to continue with the post and use the follow-up instead to share those Beatlemaniacal tidbits I discovered!

 

 

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First Incarnation: Ivor Arbiter’s April 1963 design, hand painted by Eddie Stokes.

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Paul McCartney’s 1962 design.

 

 

 

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Raw source information (quickly jotted down):

 

April 1963 Drum City London Owned by Ivor David Arbiter, who quickly designed the logo, was an English drum designer, manufacturer, instrument salesman, and entrepreneur, who in his early career, was the owner and operator of Drum City, a specialty drum shop in the West End of London. He sketched a logo mock-up on the back of a cigarette package and paid a local sign-maker, Eddie Stokes, five pounds to paint the logo on the drum head.

Brian Epstein and Ringo Starr


Eddy Stokes painted it

Total cost for the logo: £5

May 12, 1963 Ringo takes possession of the drum just in time for the band's headline appearance on 'Thank Your Lucky Stars' hosted by Brian Matthew
Drum used from then till February 4, 1964
February 9, 1964 Ed Sullivan appearance used a new Ludwig with a slightly modified font with the letters of the logo a little larger overall and thicker

In all there were four Ludwig drum kits with seven different hand painted skins used by the end of The Beatles career

Ludwig Oyster Black Drum Kit

Collector Russ W. Lease one time owner of the second drum skin (Paul McCartney is believed to still own the first skin)

The Beatles Drop T Logo Story 

 

 

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"'Tis the season to be... ...or then again, maybe not!" [This post is just requires tags.]

 "Merry Humbug, whatever..."

Angelica and Desiree at Twalla's

     When I took the photo above of Desiree Staley and my late sister Angelica Staley, at Twalla Staley's home some years ago (2012 -12-22), I instinctively knew I had seen the composition and Desiree's expression, in conjunction with the holiday season, somewhere before. Today I remembered where:  from Robert Franks' 'The Americans' specifically, the Christmas waitress pictured at the 'Ranch Market, Hollywood. (1955 - 1956)

'Ranch Market, Hollywood, 1955-1956' Robert Frank

I Broke [This post is under construction.]

 

 

The shattered display of my not as yet, day old, digital picture frame. Even in death, there is art.

 

 

 

In a rare fit of pique, 

While I am a person considered extremely patient by others, I do have my cracks, and my ire, when it does spill over, usually expresses itself in one of two ways: towards the inanimate or against myself. In fact my last big rage caused me the partial loss of my vision, when I struck my face so hard, it started a hemorrhage. That was twenty or more years ago.

Thinking an email response would be days or weeks in coming, a knot of nervousness started to form in the pit of my being. It grew into a desperation. I knowingly did the worst thing I could, and attempted a blind, do-it-yourself file repair. I didn’t even bother to “consult” with A.I. first. My frenzy emotional panic couldn’t even wait the thirty or so minutes I would have to spend simply getting the A.I. to properly understand my initial prompts.

Of course, things went spectacularly wrong. As expected by anybody with half a brain cell, I altered the Digital Photo Frame’s tmp file and the picture screen instantly went black - forever! There was no undoing my mistake. I knew it. In an instant, all the time having known better, I voided all future repair or returns. I could not go back and this I did to my better self and judgement. I unplugged the permanently broken device, now nothing but useless plastic, and took it into the garage, on my way to the garage can.

After nearly five days, of one hardware or software failure (six so far and counting) and the inordinate amount of time spent to correct each issue - sometimes not - this the last straw that broke the camel’s back.   

Rage came to the fore. 

The dam broke and I flung the device against the concrete with all my fury, smashing the digital picture frame to smithereens! 

Surely, as stupid as I felt myself and my actions, this amount of sudden violence seemed unwarranted, not for this tiny product, or even the other technical delays combined. I’m no saint, for sure, and I do get angry, but that last time, I hurled an object to the floor and its destruction was in 2005. It was a glass.

I felt helpless, I feel helpless, I cannot control matters, I cannot correct error, I cannot combat evil, I cannot change what is, nor, most importantly of all, add more time. Yes, I’m talking about life and the world at large creeping into me.

Evil is winning over which I have little or no control, it’s gaining every day, and becoming worse before my very eyes, willfully abetted by unscrupulous sycophants. And my life is finite. I will live to see any change for the better in my limited lifetime. How joyless that feels.

So I threw a tantrum, to literally rage against the machine, and my mortality. The gears grind on, the years without me. Even my utter defeat with Ruth mocks me with whom have no voice - never did. The irretrievable losses (like that of my childhood artwork and such for example). Family deaths. Entropy's relentless march towards increasing degradation, both on a personal and universal scale. Heat death.

I wanted to stop it: the years, the failures, the evil, the long silence and responsiveness. I wanted to smash it all, and the unrelenting mechanism. I wanted to matter to time. To proclaim my place and importance… my defiance to being overruled and ignored.

I smashed the inanimate instead. Poor machine, it had no brook with me. Yet, because it was without thought, it graciously granted me the wherewithal to act without thought. Then again, all is without thought, as far as the universe is concerned. Sure, it’s grinding me to pulp, but it isn’t personal.

 I’m sorry little product that I took it out on you.  Sometimes, though…   the futility

Yet, the evil that people do, that those, conscious of others, and sentient knowingly perpetrate, though that’s a different matter. My incoherent act was addressing that.

Everything was at play and went!

”Like a red-hot umbrella…”

“I wanna bust!”

"Bust cool!" 

”Pow!”

advancing decrepitude 

Shortcomings 

lack of control 

out of my hand both figuratively and literally 

I just wanted to strike out at the world or something.

Admittedly, I do feel a tad better, having popped, having uncorked, Like a pressure valve releasing a little steam In the larger scheme of things, it's more than likely.ultimately futile. A pointless gesture. But the moment has passed and the tension has dissipated if only by a smidge.

Now to shape all these loose jottings and stream-of-consciousness into something structured, conscientious, and sensible.

‘Porch’ [This post just requires tags.]

     A digital composite of mine from 2006 using both original and found imagery. 

‘Porch’ (Early 1980’s / 2006) -original & found imagery-

    In the foreground, of the above composite, sits the photo I snapped (sometime circa 1981 or 1982) of my childhood home’s back porch. In the background looms the photo realistic artist depiction of the fourth planet of our solar system, a depiction that I happened upon while surfing the web in 2006.* 

    Seeing the angle of the planet, and recalling the similar angle of the porch, not to mention the direction and coloring of the light falling upon both subjects,** I knew, as you can see, the lineup would make a good match, and combined the pair. I’m very pleased with the blend.

-FIN-

*In vain, I did an image search in the hope I would learn the name of the artist responsible for the photorealistic painting of Mars, so I could properly credit them for this post. The search failed to produce any results as yet. The artist credit is therefore still pending.

**Regarding the photograph of the porch I took, I will have to go through my collection of prints to see if I can loosely determine when exactly I snapped the picture and under what circumstances. However, there is a good chance I was trying to document, at the time, the striking, noctilucent pink that was falling upon the house well into the twilight: the lingering glow produced by the volumes of sulfuric aerosols volcanically ejected and introduced high into earth’s stratosphere by the 1982 eruptions of El Chichón. Located in Chiapas, Mexico, it erupted three times between March 28th and April 4th of that year, dramatically painting the sunset and dawn skies of the western United States for weeks, some forty four years ago.

"Why is It Dark at Night?" [This post just requires tags.]

     "Why is It Dark at Night?" my cousin's three-year-old once put to me.

     I did my best to simplify the celestial mechanics involved. 

     Then turning to his grandmother, Timmy asked again. 

 

 

'Landscape - Sunset through the fog, Second Beach, Olympic National Park, Washington' Stephan Matera

 

    "Because the sun goes down." she answered.

     Satisfied, the child inquired no further.

     

    Yet now, I have to ponder, 

    Why does it… must it go down? 

    Because, that, it just did.

    And Timmy, the dark is profound. 


     Remembering Tim
     1975 ~ 2025

‘Neath the Table Then’ [This post is under construction.]

 

 

Pull me down, Ruth.

Take me there. 

I'll not resist, 

That glint in your eyes. 

Such is your lure, 

No defenses have I. 

'Neath the table then, 

Slide me. 

Clay in your hand, 

I hie. 

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But it was not to be.

Decorum demanded it.

And I,

Against all inclination,

Had to thwart,

Not just the moment,

But you.

Not just my self…

Yours too.

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ORIGINAL VERSE:

Pull me down, Ruth.

Take me there.

I won’t put up a fight,

I swear.

I’d go readily,

(Willingly,) -optional-

Anywhere.

Beneath the table,

Take me there

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     Now I know my poetic skills are abysmal. Frankly, they stink. Hokey, doesn't even begin to describe the vast majority of my output. Oh my goodness, another simplistic offering set to juvenile rhyme! Yet, sometimes if I'm lucky, lightning strikes and I can conjure up something of value. Maybe these words can help jumpstart that process. That  would be nice. Until then, I just have to keep putting them out and churning away. (No pun intended - 'a whey'.)

 

This "woetry" is based on a true experience that occurred inside the former Denny's Restaurant at Serramonte Center in Daly City sometime, one Sunday night, circa 1973 ~ 1975.*

 

*The only Denny's visit I can actually pin to a specific date was the Sunday night there was a total lunar eclipse visible in the sky. Using Stellarium, I found that date to be Sunday, May 25, 1975 with the greatest eclipse occurring at 9:48PM PDT. However, I doubt the particulars of the "woetry" (or "woem") transpired that evening concurrent with the celestial event.

 

 

 

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'Unapologetic Nonsense' [This post is under construction.]

 

 

 

 

    First off though, an apology. As I am limiting myself to four posts a month, I had to wait to publish this on November 1st, otherwise this post would have appeared on the 28th of October and there would have been five blog posts for the month.

    That said, two days ago (this being as I write, October 30th, the eve of Halloween - would that make it Halloweenween or Halloweenie??) I was watching Aron Ra's latest YouTube video on evolution entitled: 'Triassic Transitions: from Lizards to Crocs'.

    In his post, both on the main thumbnail, and in the video, Aron made reference to producer/director Irwin Allen's 1960 remake of  the 1925, stop-motion, silent film classic: 'The Lost World', itself an adaptation of Sir Arthur Ignatius Conan Doyle's 1912 novel of the same name. There is even a point, with respect to the 1960 CinemaScope production, where Aron points out the coincidental resemblance of an extinct Shringasaurus indicus to the Iguana used in the film. 

    However, "coincidental" is as far as the resemblance went, for instead of employing stop-motion animation to recreate the sauropods and theropods of that bygone era, as was initially planned (Willis O'Brien, the master, special effects master from the 1925 production was actually commissioned for the 1960 version) financial cuts by 20th Century Fox, forced Irwin Allen to settle for the derided, cost-desperate use of prosthetic applications and live reptiles. 

    That the resulting fabrications bore little resemblance to the dinosaurs they were supposedly portraying* was the price alas sadly and literally to be paid. With the budget slashed to a third of its original funding [the direct consequence of 'Cleopatra' (1963) and its projected cost overrun] this was the compromise inflicted on the venture. Tossing in a bright green tarantula to boot, some clinging plant tendrils, a carnivorous flower, a volcano, cave people, revenge, a couple of human skeletons, and an oversized fossil rib cage, would have to suffice, plus hoping as Hell for the best, I guess.

     The disaster did modestly upon release. 

    Somehow I don't think this is the fiasco Irwin had in mind when he proudly bestowed the "Master of Diaster" appellation upon himself.

 *Unlike the excellent makeup used to recreate the more convincing dimetrodons featured in 20th Century Fox's blockbuster 'Journey to the Center of the Earth' from the year before. 

  

 

  

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    Amazingly, I manage to find footage of a 20th Century Fox sales promotion being pitched by producer/director Irwin Allen for his upcoming 1974 feature 'The Towering Inferno, complete with him standing before a huge diagram! It was just made to suit (to say nothing of Irwin's all salmon-pink jumpsuit! Yep, white shoes 'n' all!)

 

 

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    I kid you not about the jumpsuit! Even by early 1970's fashion sensibility, it was considered gauche. Only the  uncool, the unhip - mainly men and moguls in their midlife crisis - would wear it! The wannabe chic that never were with it!

 

 

 

 

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