Except some of us never forget.
Genius cuts two ways. There’s the good, which tends to be great stuff somewhat ahead of its time. There’s the bad, which is usually forgettable and therefore forgotten. But there’s also the ugly, which like the good persists in memory and insists on being remembered. And isn’t that finally the definition of genius? What insists on being remembered. Even after all the stupid uneducated people have forgotten it. Just so. Even if the brightling beam lasts only for a moment.
THE GOOD
The Pooh Perplex
Before there was post-modernism and Political Correctness, there was the Pooh Perplex, leaping ahead to envision the nonsense literary academia would devolve to. It’s still available at Amazon, and, yes, the subject of all the essays is Winnie the Pooh.
“In this devastatingly funny classic, Frederick Crews skewers the ego-inflated pretensions of the schools and practitioners of literary criticism popular in the 1960s, including Freudians, Aristotelians, and New Critics. Modeled on the “casebooks” often used in freshman English classes at the time, The Pooh Perplex contains twelve essays written in different critical voices, complete with ridiculous footnotes, tongue-in-cheek “questions and study projects,” and hilarious biographical notes on the contributors. This edition contains a new preface by the author that compares literary theory then and now and identifies some of the real-life critics who were spoofed in certain chapters.”
1066 and All That
Long before Brexit, Britain went away from us, away from civilization. But there was a time when they had wit and humor. This is a touching and quite hilarious reminder of that time.
Tom Lehrer
Before there was Tom Lehrer, there was Stephen Leacock, mathematician and humorist extraordinaire. But Lehrer was also a distinguished academic mathematician with a wicked sense of humor. He is, regrettably, the last American academic of any discipline who knew how to laugh. Enjoy what we still have of him.
PDQ Bach
Amazing anachronism. Yes, there was a time when the intelligentsia also knew how to laugh at their own overly refined and, well, snobby tastes. Peter Schickele tapped into that for a brief moment. Imagine John Kerry or Barack Obama getting THIS joke.
Spike Jones
Long long before there was Weird Al, there was Spike Jones, who did actually have a first class big band behind him. He also had a low down and (only fairly) dirty sense of “Let’s mess things up and see what happens.” Waaay ahead of his time.
Allan Sherman
Every Jewish mother’s favorite son. The unlikeliest comedy superstar ever. However brief his reign. I like to think of him and Steve Kinison hoisting a few in heaven.
Vaughn Meader
Talk about your unlucky career accidents. This guy had a monopoly on Kennedy impressions and parodies. Now no one’s ever heard of him.
THE UGLY
Julia A. Moore
The worst poet ever in the world. Yes. There was such a person. Here’s an example of her verse, memorialized by no less a notable than Mark Twain, who could not believe his astonishing find.
“I was happy then as a girl could ever be,
And live on this earth here below—
I was happy as a lark and as busy as a bee,
For in fashion or in style I did not go.
My parents were poor and they could not dress me so,
For they had not got the money to spare,
And it may be better so, for I do not think fine clothes
Make a person any better than they are.
Some people are getting so they think a poor girl,
Though she be bright and intelligent and gay,
She must have nice clothes, or she is nothing in this world,
If she is not dressed in style every day.
Remember never to judge people by their clothes,
For our brave, noble Washington said,
“Honorable are rags, if a true heart they enclose,”
And I found it was the truth when I married.”
Well, look her up. She’s so bad there’s a long article about her in the Paris Review.
Rod McKuen
Talk about your bad poetry. It didn’t end in the 19th century. Try this on for size.
“You walk into the room with your pencil in your hand
You see somebody naked and you say, “Who is that man?”
You try so hard but you don’t understand
Just what you will say when you get home
Because something is happening here but you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
You raise up your head and you ask, “Is this where it is?”
And somebody points to you and says, “It’s his”
And you say, “What’s mine?” and somebody else says, “Well, what is?”
And you say, “Oh my God, am I here all alone?”
But something is happening and you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
You hand in your ticket and you go watch the geek
Who immediately walks up to you when he hears you speak
And says, “How does it feel to be such a freak?”
And you…”
Oops. My mistake. That wasn’t McKuen. It was our new Nobel Laureate Bob Dylan. My bad.
Here’s McKuen:
The Need
[shudder] any questions?
Swept Away by Lena Wertmuller
There are bad movies and then there are movies so bad they start out funny then turn irredeemably ugly. Such is Swept Away. They won’t let me show you the laughably horrifying and disgusting sodomy scene because YouTube knows Americans aren’t up to Italian standards of communist sodomy. All I can tell you is that Giancarlo Giannini is delightedly banging away while reciting the whole of Das Kapital. This teaser scene will have to do as a substitute.
Carly Simon Standards
Saddest thing in the world. Old rockers start feeling like time has passed them by, so they think they should record “As Time Goes By.” You know. To show the world they really aren’t the 60 year old 20 year olds they really are. Usually, the result is forgettable. Sometimes it’s really really ugly. Like with Carly (I can’t get over wishing I’d been born Mick Jagger, or at least with a tenth of his talent) Simon. This is just… Ugly.
Okay. For you tone deaf ones, or those who do Karaoki and think you’re pretty good at it, here’s the song sung right.
I tend to live by serendipity. I’d been planning this post for a week. Guess what I Found last night on Netflix.
Give yourselves up to serendipity. It makes life something like heaven.