Balls and Walnuts
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Richard Pryor, 1940-1965
Way too young to exit the stage.
Per CNN, he died of a heart attack. The CNN article has several links to video clips, including a 3 minute bit from an interview with Larry King. Check it out, and drink a toast to Richard.
Not at all clear to me whether the heart attack had anything to do with his other illness, multiple sclerosis. I can’t make a connection, but the news agencies aren’t releasing many details. I know this much: late adult onset MS is a bitch, far worse (on average) than young adult onset MS.
Here’s the Wikipedia biography on Pryor. Woefully absent is any tangible glimpse of Pryor’s humor. I hope that in the coming days, some kind folks will step forward and edit the Wiki entry to correct that deficiency.
D.
Interlude
One of those weeks.
I’d wanted to blog last night, but I had to go in to see someone who didn’t want to see me, and . . . well, doctor-patient confidentiality must be respected.
I don’t think it’s unrelated that I dreamed last night of throwing it all in. “Let’s sell everything and move down to Mexico,” I told Karen in the dream, and amazingly, she went for it.
Next thing I knew, we were packing up for the move. We must have gotten rid of a lot of our junk, since we managed to fit everything into one of the smaller U-haul trucks. I felt exhausted that we were moving AGAIN, but I also felt exhilarated. I’m a wandering Jew at heart, and I’d been in one place far too long. We were moving on.
Then a wasp flew into my ear and I had that awful plugged sensation layered with batshit-crazy hindbrain terror whenever it buzzed its wings, and the dream became a nightmare, just like any other nightmare. And then I woke up.
Well, at least the sea is still as pretty as ever.
D.
Re: Butt implants
Hey, check it out: Monica Jackson gets a shout-out at pop culture site YesButNoButYes for her October 25 blog on some blonde bimbo with a big butt. Follow the ass-man link.
Go Monica!
Me, I’m pro-natural. I once felt some oooooold breast implants* and boy howdy those felt like croquet balls in there.
D.
*General surgery internship — breast examinations are a mandatory part of training. Really.
Viral Videos Part 1: Phazer blast from the past
I can’t get enough of this: a striking young Leonard Nimoy sings “The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins” while five mod hipsters provide accompaniment.
I feel a little bad for Nimoy. Typecast as Spock, his acting career never really went anywhere. IMDB has the details. Lots of voice acting, few meaty roles. I thought he was great as the prophet Samuel in the 1997 TV production David, and as pop psychologist David Kibner in the 1978 Invasion of the Body Snatchers. I hear him several times each week, whenever I play Civilization IV.
A more painful video — watch it once, and you’ll probably not feel the need to do it again: William Shatner sings “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.” He brings to the song all the subtlety and understatement he employed to great effect as James T. Kirk. Go on, watch it, and cringe.
While you’re at it, don’t forget that Nichelle Nichols (Uhura) is an accomplished vocal stylist. The Star Trek theme has words — who knew?
D.
Saving Gotham
D r i f t g l a s s has a stirring meditation this morning on the State of the Union, with reference to the Batman mythos:
And if one were inclined in that direction, one could also see it [Batman Begins] as a Lost Liberal Parable for the 21st Century.
Thomas Wayne, who “nearly bankrupted Wayne Enterprises fighting poverty during the Depression†as the only-dimly-remembered Good Liberal Father (or perhaps even a genuine Compassionate Conservative, a species long gone extinct in our dark lands.)
A city that has lost faith in its own vision of itself.
A government where good men still exist, but corruption has so riddled its bones that even if the wanted to clean it up, “in a town this dirty, who’s there left to rat to?†When the President and all of his Men are rotting this nation from the head down, that sentiment could not be more apropos.
Read the whole post (link above).
I feel the darkness closing in, but I, too, refuse to give up hope.
D.
Grow a pair (or buy one)
No, this is not a Bertie Botts Jelly Bean*, but you are welcome to eat one, if you’d like. Here are some recipes.
It’s the “NeuticlesNatural,” to be exact, which is “FDA medically-approved solid silicone. Not gel filled or saline filled but a soft solid rubber-like material that replicates the pets testicle in firmness once implanted.” (Um . . . who, exactly, is checking their dog’s balls for firmness?)
Neuticles came to my attention when the inventor of neuticles, Gregg A. Miller, won the 2005 IgNobel Prize for Medicine. Fake dog balls (and kitty balls) have made the rounds of the blogosphere of late, including this rather longish but interesting discussion at Pandagon, regarding men so nervous about their own manhood that they won’t get their dogs neutered.
I think Pandagon is right. The good folks at Neuticles would like you to believe that a new pair of rubber cojones will help your neuteree’s self-esteem, but whose self-esteem is in jeopardy here?
I’m reminded of one of cultural anthropology’s more notorious treatises, Clifford Geertz’s “Deep Play: Notes on the Balinese Cockfight.” I read it in college, and one line has stuck with me to this day (and thank heavens for the web, cuz my memory would have mangled it):
To anyone who has been in Bali any length of time, the deep psychological identification of Balinese men with their cocks is unmistakable. The double entendre here is deliberate. It works in exactly the same way in Balinese as it does in English, even to producing the same tired jokes, strained puns, and uninventive obscenities. Bateson and Mead have even suggested that, in line with the Balinese conception of the body as a set of separately animated parts, cocks are viewed as detachable, self-operating penises, ambulant genitals with a life of their own.
Which brings me to the core question of tonight’s post: what are the ambulant genitals of the 21st Century?
I really don’t know. I’m just askin’.
D.
*My advice? When eating Bertie Botts Jelly Beans, stay away from Vomit.
Holiday gift ideas for your Neocon friends
Props to Falafel Sex for finding Baby Bush Toys:
And much, much more.
Happy HannuChristmaKwanzakah to you.
D.
Have a Sparky, Snarky Christmas
Lon Prater and Suzan L. Wiener at The Writers’ Ezine (Dec 05) have been kind enough to give us holiday gift ideas for the writer in your life. But ask yourself: does that writer really need much for Christmas? Take my advice and save your money. Limitless quiet time to write – that’s all he* wants for Christmas. Add in occasional reminders to bathe, eat, and take potty breaks, and you’ve given him more than he deserves.
Undoubtedly, you will see many such lists in the coming weeks. But who remembers the family of those lucky writers? Here at Balls and Walnuts, we do.
Don’t you love it when . . .
Netscape crashes, you haven’t saved your work, and you’re 3/4 of the way through your post?
Sorry, folks, but it’s 10:45 PM and I have to get up early for surgery tomorrow. My holiday gift extravaganza will have to wait another day.
D.
The marriage counsellor, Part 2
I have more funny business in store for you later this evening . . . so, Maureen? Chill.
Before I leave behind this discussion of love and marriage, I wanted to share with you a link I found several years ago. I found this two years ago and filed it away for my son (in an envelope labeled For Jacob, when he’s older). I’m not sure what mood possessed me at the time, but it must have been precious.
First, here’s the link:
Ten Terrifying Truths about Marriage by Dr. Michael Tobin
Rereading this, I see a few gems here, but what possessed me to print this out and stuff it in an envelope for my son, to be opened circa 2020? I don’t know. Maybe it’s not so crazy. Two items in particular stand out:
2. Try all you want — you’ll never change your partner. However, if you change yourself, your partner may change.
Very true, in my experience. (It’ll be a blast when Karen reads this. She’ll piss herself laughing: You’re kidding, right? When did you ever change?)
8. The greatest gift you can give your children is a loving marriage.
Hmm. I wouldn’t know this from firsthand experience, but I’m hoping my son will tell me one day if it’s true. Maybe that’s why I socked this list away.
Okay, enough with the serious stuff. Time to pull out the whoopee cushions.
D.