Christmas in Paris

As Christmas rolls by, I try to make the time-appropriate blog entry have some sort of meaning or relevance to that holiday, even if it means going out of my way to rack my brain for the most remote issue or topic...much as I do for July 4.  Well, this is this year’s feeble attempt at a seasonally appropriate blog entry.

 We celebrated Christmas in Paris from 1979 to 1989 – whoa, covered the 80s there.  1978 was the last Christmas spent in our house in Gaithersburg before moving to Paris, and by December 1990 we were back in that same house again. 

 The weather in Paris is much milder than Washington, DC area.  In summer, it rarely exceeds 90 degrees Fahrenheit, and in winter it rarely drops below freezing (though it does get cold) and almost never snows.  About the only thing I don’t like about snow is having to drive through heavy amounts of it on the roads.  Given that, in Paris, we almost never had to drive within the city itself and could get by either walking or taking the Metro, I’d say that ends up being the worst of both worlds in terms of cold weather: cold enough to be unpleasant but not cold enough for snow. 

 The news report which came on brought back memories: they said that in Paris for the holiday seasons, the city will be lit up with extravagant lighting arrangements (by that I take it they mean, MORE extravagant and elaborate than in prior years).  For my part, I do recall plenty of that when I was there, particularly lights in the trees around Ave. Matignon and the Champs Elysees, and the Eiffel Tower itself lit up.  What I remember most of all, in that regard, were the elaborate window displays at the Galeries Lafayette.  Fortunately, once we moved into Paris proper in 1984, we were now within walking distance of that immense department store.  They really knocked themselves out: fantastic window displays, with GI Joe, Smurfs, Legos, Barbie, you name it.  And not merely the stationary mannequins you’d usually see most of the year: this stuff actually MOVED (Kim Cattrall NOT included).  In fact, my dad would refer to them as “moving windows”, and us precocious little kids would correct him, “Dad, the windows themselves aren’t moving!”

 There were also chestnut sellers on the street, but I’m not a big fan of that type of nut.  Fortunately the heat was certainly enjoyable, if not the food.

 Another major deal was midnight mass.  When we were living in the US we would always go to Christmas mass on Christmas morning, which I do NOT remember fondly.  We’d have to interrupt playing with the toys to go to church, of all places.  Not fun (what does church and God have to do with Christmas?  Jesus didn’t bring me all that stuff, Santa did.  Come on!)   In Paris we went to St. Joseph’s, and one year my dad decided to try this midnight mass thing.  If we went at midnight at Christmas Eve, we’d be off the hook for mass the next morning.  Great idea!  We went with that from then on.  More recently we went back to Christmas morning mass, but the midnight mass memories from Paris are still there.  One year we braved St. Augustine’s, the church down the street from us, which didn’t seem to have heat – which is probably why we only went ONE year. 

 Actually, St. Joseph’s started out as one of these more traditional churches in the cross format with old style statues and creaky wooden pews – old enough that you couldn’t tell if the church dated from 1850 or 1920.  Then they tore the place down and redid everything as one of these ultramodern IKEA churches, spread out more like a fan (Nissan Pavilion seating – minus the mosh pit and mixing desk) with the quasi-abstract sign of the cross imagery.  Sooner or later I imagine even St Peters will get the IKEA treatment.

 Oh yeah.  I might as well throw this in.  I remember back in the 70s, while still in the US, we’d get the Sears catalog, the holiday edition as I recall.  And it would have all sorts of totally cool NFL stuff.  What we liked the most, and what we did order, were those jackets with the leather sleeves.  Of course I got the Minnesota Vikings one; at the time they still had the older “Vikings” script with the large V, instead of the newer one that’s kind of a stencil design.  Much of the currently available Vikings merchandise is still available with that logo.  They don’t sell those jackets anymore, though.  Of course my brother got the Steelers jacket, in black and yellow.  I don’t really know or understand why we should associate football, of all sports (if any) with Christmas.  Maybe it’s because NFL-related gear tended to be on our Santa’s list even back then – also because unlike baseball, for which the season ends in October before any real snow comes to the US, football reaches its peak during Christmas time.

 Hopefully everyone, everywhere – even Paris – will have a Merry Christmas this year.  Joyeux Noel!

Devil, Sin and the Jungle

  Here are three books set in Chicago, two are contemporary and one written back in 1905 – but all covering late 19^th and early 20^th century Chicago.  They complement each other fairly well, I found, so I felt that reviewing them together was appropriate.

 Devil in the White City, by Erik Larson.  This is a non-fiction account of the 1893 Chicago World’s Fair.  It focuses on two major characters, Daniel Burnham, a prominent Chicago architect who organized the fair, and HH Holmes, a serial killer operating in the Chicago era at the same time as the fair.  The obstacles Burnham had to overcome, and all the innovations introduced at the fair – the Ferris Wheel being the most obvious – made this impossible to put down.  Plus I seem to have a fascination with late 19^th century USA.  The juxtaposition and interweaving, chronologically, of the two stories, was remarkable.  I don’t know if a book about either topic on its own would have been nearly as compelling.  Supposedly they will be making a movie version of this in 2009.

   In an attempt to answer France’s stunning 1889 World’s Fair, at which the Eiffel Tower was debuted, the big shots in the US finally turned to Chicago for their own 1893 attempt.  They built an entire city – the White City – and stuffed it full of all sorts of marvellous wonders.  The Ferris Wheel was one; Wild Bill Hickok’s western show was another; Krupp, the German arms manufacturer, had its own hall of martial products to show off.  Belly dancing got its first major demonstration in the US – and the famous belly dancing tune (childhood lyrics: “there’s a place in France where the naked ladies dance”) was also invented.  Gustav Eiffel himself proposed to contribute to the Fair, but the organizers felt it would defeat the purpose of “out Eiffeling Eiffel” if Eiffel himself was responsible for doing so – so the first Ferris Wheel served that purpose; but the Ferris Wheel is no longer there, while the Eiffel Tower still stands in Paris.  Products such as the zipper, Cracker Jack, and Shredded Wheat (slammed as “shredded doormat”) made their debuts.  Pabst beer won a blue ribbon award, forever changing its name.  The fair attracted celebrities and royalty from all over the world.  Finally, close to the end of the fair in October 1893, the attendance records shot up dramatically, completely blitzing the ones set in Paris.

 Sin in the Second City, by Karen Abbott.  Although a good complement to Devil in the White City, it’s by another author entirely and has no intention of being any sort of sequel or companion thereto.  This is about Chicago’s brothels at the turn of the century (the events in question take place about 15 years after those in Devil), with a particular focus on the Everleigh Club, the most expensive and most exclusive. 

   The book seems to be neutral between the brothels and the crusading religious zealots who ultimately succeeded in shutting down not only the Everleigh Club itself, but Chicago’s entire brothel system by late 1912.  Apparently the Mann Act, originally designed to prevent the unscrupulous panderers from kidnapping immigrant girls and trading them to brothels, has long since been warped beyond recognition to cover other behavior.  But it also gave teeth to federal efforts to shut down brothels around the country.

   On one hand, these panderers were obnoxious: they tricked girls who had no intention of becoming prostitutes into that lifestyle, after drugging them and gang-raping them, clearly women who were involuntarily “recruited” into the profession.  Once they were traumatized by the experience, most had little choice, after having been “shamed” and “disgraced” against their will, but to remain as prostitutes.  Very few men would accept them as wives, so returning to respectable society was not really an option for them.  Many of them committed suicide.

   On the other hand, the Everleigh Club, the top, premiere brothel not only in Chicago but arguably in the country, had no need to resort to such tactics.  By raising their standards well above the other brothels and charging the most, the Everleigh sisters, Minna and Ada, could afford to be selective, so there was actually a waiting list of girls applying to work there.  All their “employees” were experienced and recruited from other brothels; although they weren’t head-hunters, as they didn’t recruit madams, they did cherry pick many of the top earners at competing brothels.  The most intriguing example was Suzy Poon Tang, a stunning harlot from Shanghai, who had a rose tattooed below her navel.  She was a bit too charming: the customer for whom they had recruited her ended up marrying her after her first night with him at the Everleigh Club.

   But because the sisters were so provocative and defiant of the authorities and reformers, they embarrassed the mayor (Carter Harrison II, son of the famous Carter Harrison Sr assassinated as the 1893 World’s Fair drew to a close) to the point where they had to be made an example of, and shut down.  Once the Everleigh Club was closed – permanently – it was a short time before the entire Levee district (as Chicago’s top red-light district was called) was shut down as well. 

   There are some oblique references to the 1893 World’s Fair, and also to an up-and-coming crook by the name of Al Capone.  Overall, an extremely fascinating book, yet another “can’t put it down” one.

I’ve never been to Chicago, but both Devil & Sin inspire a modest desire to visit, but for one major problem: 90% of the “White City” (the 1893 Worlds Fairgrounds) is now long gone, with only one building surviving.  Oddly, the grounds are now partially taken over by Soldier Field, home of the Bears.  The huge, first, Ferris Wheel is, of course, long gone, as are all the other buildings, the Island, and the gateway.  There is little point in visiting Chicago solely based on the 1893 World’s Fair.  Likewise, not only is the Everleigh Club long closed, the building itself was demolished in 1933, and the entire neighborhood is now completely razed and is now the grounds of a housing project.  So neither book lends itself to nostalgic tourism as of 2008.  

The Jungle, Upton Sinclair. This is the original 1905 version, not the 1906 version which actually got published.  In 1988 someone tracked down the original manuscripts as the book was serialized in socialist newspapers; Sinclair had to edit it down in 1906 to get published by a normal, capitalist publisher.  As originally written, it’s a widespread condemnation of capitalist society overall, merely focusing on the Chicago packers as one example.  It is VERY cynical and depressing. 

This is a fictional story about a small family from Lithuania trying to survive in early 20^th century Chicago.  They face perpetually uncertain job security, bitter cold, a deceitful mortgage holder (they ended up with a lease with option to buy, not a mortgage), and countless other heinous injustices perpetrated by a cold, heartless, deceitful capitalist system.  To give one example of the many obnoxiously unfair things which happen: Jurgis’ wife is blackmailed by her boss into having an affair with him.  When Jurgis finds out, he attacks the boss, is thrown in jail, and loses his job during his brief jail sentence.  They have absolutely no safety net: no disability insurance, no unemployment insurance, no health insurance, and are subject to layoffs and arbitrary termination at will.  Practically every representative of the capitalist system is portrayed as callous, uncaring, ruthless, and deceitful.  By Lewis’ analysis, even Friedrich Engels – an enlightened, compassionate capitalist – should not exist. 

            Since it takes place in Chicago around the same time as Sin and the Second City, some of the same issues pop up: Jurgis’ cousin Marija becomes a prostitute at a brothel in the Levee, there is a brief discussion of the “white slave trade” (kidnapping girls and doping and raping them, then selling them off to brothels) etc., which is more interesting here because Sinclair was writing contemporaneously.  And since Jurgis finds himself homeless and tramping briefly, even parts coincide with Orwell’s Down & Out in Paris and London, though he’s not tramping through London.

            Again, as originally published it was targeted at the meat packers.  Sure enough, the packers themselves have enough substantive crimes on their plate, well beyond their ruthless personnel practices (shared by the other firms in the book).  Due to payoffs to the Federal meat inspectors, countless unsavory practices occur, not the least of which are various human body parts – or even entire unlucky workers – getting mixed in with the meat.  Rotten meat and diseased animals are used anyway, simply surreptitiously mixed in along with the more wholesome and healthy meat. 

            Of course the book caused a scandal when it came out.  Theodore Roosevelt, upon learning the truth about the payoffs of the inspectors, spearheaded the movement which resulted in the Food & Drug Administration.  But a general hatred of capitalism, and an open revolution against the system, never materialized – even during the height of the Great Depression, when public dissatisfaction with the system was at its peak.  As it was, the other Roosevelt, Franklin Delano, managed to co-opt the socialists with his New Deal, so much so that the socialists were reluctant to run their own candidate against him.  Ultimately they did so to avoid giving the impression that they endorsed him, and thereby discrediting him.  The Communist Party-USA (CP-USA) had orders from Stalin to support FDR’s election efforts behind the scenes. 

            Despite my own views, I found the book extremely informative and compelling.  I cannot, however, track down the silent version of the film done ages ago – maybe someday it will turn up. 

Bacamarte - Último Entardecer

Great song ("The Last Sunset") - the best from the album. Too bad there is really no video, just a still shot of the album cover.

Premiata Forneria Marconi PFM - Celebration - Live TV, 1974

Italian progressive music - enjoy!

Moody Blues - Nights in White Satin Isle Of Wight Festival

One of their best songs (aka Knights of White Satan), the closing track on "Days of Future Passed", performed live at the 1970 version of the festival on August 30, on the same night as Free, Donovan, Pentangle, Jethro Tull, Jimi Hendrix, Joan Baez, Leonard Cohen, Richie Havens, and Hawkwind (who were in another tent). Enjoy!

Progressive Rock Fantastic Four

With one concession to an established and well-known progressive band, The Moody Blues, I’ll bring up another 4 bands which fit this genre.  I have Julia to thank for referring the Moody Blues to me, Jim for Bacamarte, Leonard for Museo Rosenbach, and both Jim & Leonard for PFM.

 Moody Blues.  At this point I have their top album, Days of Future Passed, albeit in the quadraphonic version (deluxe), along with the next two, In Search of the Lost Chord and On The Threshold of A Dream, also in quad versions.  Pretentious? Sure. But still damn good and effective.  Days is a concept album loosely starting with morning and continuing to the evening, almost like “Dance of the Hours” from Fantasia.  They managed to snag an early Mellotron [early synthesizer with pretaped loops of various instruments] for 90% off (£300 instead of £3.000) and went off from there, leaving the commercial R&B sound they had before and developing something new.  In Search and Threshold aren’t quite as good – inevitable that they would fall short of the high standard set by Days – but are still excellent. 

 Years ago I sent a mix of songs to my friend Jean, including “Breach of Lease” by Bloodrock.  His reaction?  “Psychedelic homo-wimps.”  Hmm…coming from a guy whose top band is Pink Floyd?  And I know he had Piper At the Gates of Dawn.  Syd, Nick, Richard and Roger don’t look like they’d bludgeon you to death in a dark alley, more like redecorate your house or give you a makeover.  He clearly hadn’t seen a Bloodrock album cover, as these guys looked as menacing as Lynyrd Skynyrd (by Dark Side, though Floyd looked less “swooshy” and more simply grimy, particularly Gilmour’s greasy hair pulled back behind his ears, but still no match for the tough gangs from Florida or Texas).   However, looking at the Moody Blues, that image does come to mind.  With the exception of Graeme Edge, whose beard makes him look like he’s channeling the Three Musketeers, the others look as though they stepped right off the stage of a Charles Dickens play.  They probably shopped for clothes at the same stores as 1967 era Pink Floyd.

 Having said that, and even with the Mellotron, the Moody Blues still seem to give some sort of strength and force to the songs. “Lovely to See You” is a knockout song despite its lame name – and appears to be the Scorpions’ inspiration for “Loving You Sunday Morning”.   “Ride My See-Saw”, “Peak Hour”, and even melancholy songs such as “Never Came the Day” have a backbone to them.  Just when you write them off as fops, they smack you on the side of the head – like Larks Tongues in Aspic following right after Islands (King Crimson).  As David Wells put it in the liner notes to the Live At the BBC 1967-70 album, “the Moodies’ combination of memorable melodies and counterculture-friendly experimentalism meant that they managed the neat trick of appealing to both the psychedelic/progressive underground and the traditional, more conservative pop audience.”

 Bacamarte.  From Brazil, of all places, and they only have two albums, Depois do Fim and Sete Cidades, both of which are almost impossible to find, long out of print.  The lyrics are in Portuguese.  The singer on the first album, Jane Duboc, now slags Bacamarte as some poor relation and is now doing TV theme songs.  The primary creative focus of the band is Mario Neto, the guitarist, who was the one responsible for forming the band in the early 70s and putting out the second album.  My Brazilian avogado metaleiro friend Leonard has met and spoke with Mr Paul, the percussionist, who now works at a photo lab in downtown Rio de Janeiro.  Overall it sounds like an impressive synthesis of King Crimson, Jethro Tull and Uriah Heep.  Depois was, like Days, yet another album which inspired multiple listenings.  

 Museo Rosenbach.  One of the little-known branch of Italian progressive rock bands. I have Zarathustra, their 1973 album, which has an odd album cover even including Mussolini.  They broke up shortly after, then reformed much more recently.  The lyrics are in Italian, are inspired by Nietzsche (would the title be a giveaway?) and the musicianship is clearly top class.

 PFM.  Also from Italy, coming from the same scene as Museo Rosenbach, PFM (Premiata Forneria Marconi, Award-Winning Marconi Bakery) seem to be the most long-lived and prolific band of this genre, with the most success outside Italy, and even putting out albums in English.  In fact, they briefly had King Crimson lyricist Peter Sinfield (who was behind In The Court of the Crimson King) writing lyrics at their early stage.  I have Photos of Ghosts and When The World Became the World, both albums in English. 

 The Moody Blues predate Crimson, while the other three were clearly influenced by them; yet they all add something unique to the mix and don’t simply give us an Italian or Brazilian copy.  You can also hear elements of this in more recent bands such as Opeth.

Eva Longoria does a little footjob

Way back when Gabrielle was still banging the lawnboy John....just a little example of her naughtiness, caught by Susan.

Sex And The City vs. Desperate Housewives

Now I’m entering dangerous territory, a GUY discussing two shows almost certainly, almost exclusively, written for, and targeted at, WOMEN.  No, I do NOT watch soap operas, but I make an exception for DH.  Why?  I don’t know.  I suppose it’s because “Dallas” ruined me, yet DH is more irreverent and loopy than most soap operas.  So let’s talk about the two of them.

 Sex And The City.  This started out on HBO from 1998 to 2004 (six seasons), then got syndicated to basic cable, and was recently turned into a movie with all four of the main characters.  I’ve only briefly had HBO, so most of my earlier experience watching this was chez Leila, who loved it.  I saw the movie with her as well, and was probably one of 5 men in a movie theater packed with women. 

 It takes place in Manhattan, but none of the characters have a New York accent.  They talk about sex, their relationships, their lives, etc. all the things that women who don’t live in Manhattan do.  They talk about having children, but Miranda is the only one who gets married and has any children.  As a matter of fact, they view children as something “other women” have, who live in big houses in Connecticut.  And for that matter, the suburbs might as well be another planet.  They live for shopping, for cocktails, for parties, for the single life in trendy, fashionable Manhattan. 

And of course, it’s fashionable, trendy New York City, so Carrie has a gay friend, what’s-his-name.  I’ve noticed in a fair amount of these movies and TV shows, every trendy, single woman has to have a gay male friend.  His primary role seems to be to give her advice about men from a man’s perspective, without the bias of being a straight guy who might actually be interested in her.  He’s also supposed to pass judgment on the various men who she dates, and when the “right one” comes along – as the plot decided – he’s supposed to say something provocative like, “you go, girl!” or “if you don’t take him home, I certainly will!”  What’s funny is that I never see men seeking out lesbian women as sources of information on straight women, so why should women consider gay men a reliable source on straight men?  To me, gay men have a different way of thinking than straight men, closer to ...women! Not completely the same, something like half-way, but sufficiently different to make their analysis somewhat flawed.  Anyhow.

 Carrie (Sarah Jessica Parker) is the columnist who narrates the damn thing.  Eventually, after various different boyfriends – she was never promiscuous – she ended up with “Mr Big” (Chris Noth), whose name doesn’t seem to be mentioned until the movie.  Nor is it clear what the hell he does for a living, except that it’s important and well-paid.  She herself is fairly normal, well-adjusted, and has no particular defects or hangups.  She’s likeable, I suppose, but I don’t consider SJP particularly attractive.

 Samantha (Kim Catrall) (GRRRR) is the publicist with a naughty mouth and even naughtier mind.  She is by far the most promiscuous, attractive, and exciting of the 4 – and by far my favorite. 

 Charlotte (Kristin Davis) is an art gallery owner, previously married to a man played by Kyle MacLachlan, who I recall had some “performance” issues due to Charlotte’s squeaky clean persona.  She is very cute, but also somehow the “innocent, naive” girl of the bunch, although she is not a virgin.

 Miranda (Cynthia Nixon) is my least favorite.  In addition to being the least attractive, she is about as much fun as a dead rock.  She’s the hyperintelligent, hyperserious, overachieving corporate lawyer.  She hooked up with the RADAR kind of guy and they have a baby.  ZZZ.

 Desperate Housewives.  This is much more recent, starting, and continuing, on network TV – ABC.  It takes place in suburban California (Fairview) and is narrated by Mary Alice Young, who killed herself before the series started, and her full story was only revealed much, much later.  Typically you find that SOMEONE is hiding something at some point, and the creepy people turn out to be (A) misunderstood but good or (B) MUCH creepier than you ever imagined.  Here’s the irony – there seems to be more fucked-up stuff going on behind closed doors in suburban California than there is in Manhattan, New York City. 

By the way – what is with Chicago??? The way they describe it, the city is Sodom or Gomorrah.  “Remember Chicago” seems to be invoked with the same menace as The Alamo, Pearl Harbor, or Auschwitz.  Bad things happen in Chicago.

Bree Van de Kamp (Marcia Cross).  The red-headed supermom.  I loved it when Rex (late husband) complained in the first episode, “I can’t live in this...detergent commerical.”  She has two kids, Andrew (still gay, but no longer a total fuckup) and Danielle, now married – formerly referred to at school as “Van de Tramp”.  She’s now married to Orson Hodge – played by Kyle MacLachlan (!) (I still think of him as Paul Atreides, aka “Muah D’hib” from “Dune”).  She’s still trying to be perfect, and annoyingly so.

Susan Meyer (Teri Hatcher).  I love her hair, although she acts pretty stupid most of the time.  She’s actually pretty normal, except that to her immense shame, she can’t cook to save her life.  As of week 2 of season five, she’s currently in some torrid affair with the housepainter, after her relationship with plumber/ex-con Mike Delfino ended – we STILL don’t know why.  Her ex, Karl (a lawyer) still comes by now and then to taunt her or show off his latest twinkie girlfriend 15 years younger than Susan.  I guess daughter Julie is off somewhere, as she was pretty damn smart and probably didn’t need 5 years to finish college.  Son MJ – I guess they stuck with “Maynard” (come on, listen to Tool) but fixed the issue by calling him MJ – still lives with her, with Mike taking him for weekend visitation so she can bang the paintboy.  For his part, Mike lost his memory for some time, and it took till season 4 for the romance between them to finally result in a wedding.

Lynette Scavo (Felicity Huffman).  Married to Tom, who now runs a pizza place; he bears a slight resemblence to Josh Homme of Queens of the Stone Age.  She’s had to quit her Type A personality ad agency job to look after the kids – Penny, Parker, Preston and Porter.  She survived cancer and getting shot, so she’s a tough bitch.  For his part Tom had a love child, Kayla, with some white trash bitch, but now the white trash bitch is gone (shot dead in a supermarket), and Kayla is gone too, thank God (we knew it couldn’t last, her name doesn’t start with P).  After starting out with the same type of job Lynette originally had, then switching with her to be Mr. Mom (because Lynette cost him his job) he finally followed his dream and opened a pizza restaurant.

Gabrielle Solis (Eva Longoria Parker).  I suppose I should hate her, being so high maintenance, but she is still my favorite.  Now Carlos is blind and she has two kids – when she swore she’d never have them.  No more modeling in New York, no more Maserati.  But even with extra pounds and less makeup and glamour, she is still the dazzling little bunny.  This couple started off rich and arrogant, and went downhill since then: Carlos ended up in jail, Gabby had an affair with John, the gardener, then Carlos ended up blind.  But they have each other, and now two chubby little girls who may never end up as models. 

Edie Britt (Nicolette Sheridan).  Blah.  She’s the odd one out, the predator bitch realtor who never had a husband of her own, she just tried to steal the men of other women.  She had hooked up with Mike Delfino when he had amnesia, had a more recent and substantial relationship with Carlos, and now has a creepy husband (guy with really weird eyes who was in “Band of Brothers”).  I really don’t find her attractive, nearly as much as Gabrielle.

Katherine Mayfair (Dana Delaney).  The new kid on the block since season 4, the closest thing Bree has to any serious competition.  In fact, they’re partners in a catering firm, partly to keep each other’s ambitions in check.  She survived a murderous ex-husband, Wayne Davis (played by Gary Cole, best known as Bill Lumbergh from “Office Space” – “Uh, yeah, Katherine, I’m going to like, kill you, m’kay?”) and is now doing fine.  I always thought Dana Delaney was stunning, ever since “China Beach”.

“Desperate”?  “Housewives”?  To me “desperate” in this context would mean “sexually frustrated” or “dissatisfied with her husband or life for whatever reason”.  “Housewife” is simply “wife who stays at home, with or without children”.  I suppose a housewife can work from home.  Do these really apply?

Edie is a realtor and worked for herself – she’s not even a housewife (until now).  She was not so much desperate as predatory.  Even now I don’t see her desperation.  Susan doesn’t appear to be desperate, as it’s Julie who encourages her to be more active socially – partially out of concern for her mother’s well-being, but also so she herself can start having a social life.  The only desperation I saw was more exasperation over Mike’s incessant tendency to keep secrets from her and test her trust. Nominally she’s self-employed as an illustrator of children’s books, but I haven’t seen any evidence that her career is active during the show, which by now seems to span 9 years, 5 of which is the gap between seasons 4 and 5.  But she never refers to Karl as paying her any spousal support – or, for that matter, Mike.  If you don’t work, your ex-husband doesn’t support you, and you’re not sitting on a ton of money, what is your source of support?  Typical TV land unreality.   But she is a “housewife”.  Bree was not only a housewife, but prided herself at being what she considered the perfect housewife.  Desperate? Hard to tell.  She wanted to win back Rex, was never in love with the creepy pharmacist George, and eventually fell in love with Orson, and got back together with him after some extended estrangement.  If anything it was Rex who was desperate.  Lynette was “desperate” so long as she was a housewife, but this was the latter definition, frustrated at trying to raise 3 uncooperative boys and a baby girl while Tom was at work having all the fun and traveling all the time.  But when she went back to work after getting Tom fired, and they switched roles, she was no longer desperate and no longer a housewife.  With Tom & Lynette both running the pizza parlor, she’s no longer a housewife, and does not appear desperate.  Katherine was a housewife, but “desperate” doesn’t seem to scan: more like terrorized by ex-husband Wayne and trying to keep her past from her daughter.  Thanks to Mike, she’s no longer desperate.  Gabrielle is the one who truly fits the description: bored and lonely because Carlos was off all the time wheeling and dealing with the Japanese boss, so she started an affair with John.  She briefly tried working when Carlos was in jail, could quit when she married Victor Long, but seems to be a housewife now taking care of blind Carlos and looking after their two chubby daughters. Best to call the show “Desperate Housewife”.  Since she’s dead when the series began, Mary Alice doesn’t really qualify, but she was a housewife, and desperate enough to commit suicide. 

Around the world.  Now there are international versions of the show, including no less than 3 Latin American variants.  The Brazilian version, “Donas de Casa Desesperadas”, keeps the name Gabrielle Solis, changes Susan to Suzana, but completely changes the names of Bree, Lynette, and Edie.

Bicha alert.  In season 4 Wisteria Lane welcomed (?) its gay male pair, Bob & Lee.  Bob seems normal enough, but I suppose after “Will and Grace”, gays are sufficiently well represented on network TV that we are now presented with, drum roll please, a NEGATIVE portrayal of a gay man.  Lee comes off as a super smart-ass, arrogant, contemptuous of those around him he perceives as not being as culturally sophisticated as he is, particularly towards women.  He also epitomizes the effeminate mannerisms we usually associate with gay men. I also noticed that while Mike, Tom, and Carlos sometimes hang out together – though far less often and regularly than the women with their card games – I didn’t see them hang out with Bob or Lee, nor are either of them part of Blue Odyssey, the band the guys put together.  There appears to be a limit to our acceptance of gays: as Mr. Garrison would put it, “simply because you tolerate something doesn’t mean you have to like it!”

Mike Nesmith and Frank Zappa on "The Monkees"

This is remarkable - Nesmith (complete with fake nose) and Zappa (in 8-button shirt and knit cap) pretend to be each other - and even "Zappa" refers to the Monkees' music as "banal and insipid." Inside what would otherwise be commercial crap for public consumption were some clever subversive elements - as evidenced by Zappa's involvement with the Monkees.

The Monkees

I’ve covered the Beatles in various different blogs, now it’s time to address a VERY similar group, the Monkees.

 My first exposure to them was growing up in the US in the 70s, when I saw the TV show in reruns.  My friend Mike and I were big fans and used to watch it as often as possible.  We watched, in vain, for the episode featuring “I’m Not Your Stepping Stone”, the song which consistently stood out among the others in the “buy our greatest hits album” commercial which played during the show’s breaks.  [I also liked the Sha Na Na variety show – no accounting for tastes when you’re under 10, I guess.  Unfortunately – or perhaps, fortunately – that show is still not on DVD.  Demand?]

 The Band.  The group was Davy Jones (vocals), Mike Nesmith (guitar), Peter Tork (bass) and Micky Dolenz (drums).  Actually, Tork was a better guitar player than Nesmith, and Jones could play drums better than Dolenz, who only learned as the show was beginning – the lineup should have been Jones (drums), Tork (guitar), Nesmith (bass) and Dolenz (vocals).  Initially they didn’t even play their own instruments on the albums, but eventually, after learning them and actually touring, they reached the point of fighting Don Kirshner for the right to play their instruments and write their own music – a campaign which earned them the respect of their peers, if not the general public.  Kirshner was eventually fired and learned his lesson: his next project, The Archies, was 100% animated (Archie & Jughead on strike?  I don’t think so.)

 TV Shows.  Indulging my nostalgia yet again, I decided to watch these, expecting to dislike them as much as an adult as I enjoyed them as a kid.  The reality was somewhere in between.  The plots strike me as silly, but apparently gave the Scooby Doo writers some major inspiration.   Any “live” performances are invariably lip-synced.  Aside from name-brand Vox amplifiers (no Marshalls) the instruments typically look low-budget, with the exception of Nesmith’s 12 string.   Practically every episode has some “chase scene montage” to the tune of one of their songs, plus lots of idiotic slapstick lunacy; other episodes have some sort of dancing scene (Monkees as the band) and a fair amount of babe-age is also evident, though most often Davy Jones is the Romeo.  The shows also feature a fair amount of actors and actresses who were either mainstream at the time or went on to greater fame in the 70s.  Part of the amusement of watching these episodes – as I find watching any TV on DVD from the 60s – is recognizing such later stars early in their careers.  The show premiered in September 1966, and went on for two seasons before everyone decided to pull the plug.

 I seem to recall as a kid my favorite was Micky Dolenz, but as an adult I seem to prefer Mike Nesmith.  Dolenz hams up a bit too much, a bit too cute, whereas Nesmith is more wise-ass, a smart-ass.  In fact, he gives the impression that he doesn’t even take the show itself seriously – which is more points in his favor. Jones, of course, is the straight man and the target of feminine attention (despite the fact that, invariably, his female love interests tower over him), and Tork plays the fool and the victim of practical jokes, etc.  Overall the impression they give is “going along” with something which is ultimately pretty stupid.  After the show they put out “Head” and began focusing on developing a legitimate career and reputation as a recording and live band (no, really).

 Head.  This is the Monkees’ artsy, pretentious full-length movie.  It really doesn’t have much of a plot, so much as – like “HELP!” – a series of situations.  Unlike “HELP!”, “Head” seems to be considerably more psychedelic, as if to say, “we’ve done acid too, see?”  Jack Nicholson, of all people, was involved with it, and you can see brief cameos of Annette Funicello and Frank Zappa (I didn’t catch Teri Garr, but she’s supposed to be in there somewhere).  Victor Mature, looking like a 60s version of Mr. Big from “Sex And the City”, is here too in a bizarre, “Jolly Green Victor Mature” role.  I suppose his agent told him this would help him somehow (similar to his role in “Chasing the Fox” with Peter Sellers).  Entertaining, in a limited fashion, worth watching ONCE but only die-hard Monkees fans need include this in their permanent DVD collection.

 Music.  Although slammed as a ripoff of the Beatles, the Beatles themselves were big fans.  David Bowie’s actual name is David Jones, but he had to go by the name of Bowie (based on Alamo hero and knife inventor Jim Bowie) to avoid confusion with the Monkees vocalist.  In the 80s, some genius put Metallica on the same festival bill as Big Country and Phil Collins; in the 60s, another genius had Jimi Hendrix (!!!) open for the Monkees.  I didn’t feel especially compelled to get the first two albums, which are mostly Boyce & Hart compositions recorded by session musicians, instead focusing on the next few, on which the band exercised far more creative control and began playing their own instruments and composing their own music.  If there was anything truly legitimate and worth listening to, it would be found there.

 Headquarters.  This is their third album. Not bad. It’s certainly NOT Sgt. Pepper, or even close, but it is competently written and performed late 60s pop music, similar in style to Rubber Soul.  Disc 2 is mono with extra tracks (mostly alternate versions) and Disc 1 is the stereo version.  As you might expect, the stereo version is MUCH better than the mono version. 

 Pisces [Dolenz], Aquarius [Tork], Capricorn [Nesmith] & Jones Ltd.  Their fourth album, coming after Headquarters, (also in mono disc/stereo disc + alternate tracks format).  Typical late 60s commercial music, though fairly well done.  Some of it actually reminds me of Jefferson Airplane – Dolenz does a good Grace Slick impression.  This was the first album by any group to have a Moog synthesizer on it, and remarkably, the Monkees outsold both the Beatles and Rolling Stones combined in 1967.  Nothing on here is really psychedelic in the real sense, but it does have more of a flower-power than a British Invasion feel to it.  Even so, the Monkees aren’t the innovators the Beatles were, so much as competently latching onto a popular style of music other bands such as the Beatles were actually developing as original music.

 Eventually the band broke up in the early 70s, reunited in the 80s and 90s, but is currently dead.  Nesmith’s mother invented Liquid Paper, so he was independently wealthy, but his limited participation in the reunions had more to do with his other commitments and was not a principled refusal to join in.  At this point the band members cite each other’s substance abuse and ego problems as the reason the band is no longer a going concern.  A Monkees reunion is not likely in the near future – much to our relief or dismay.

 Pontiac Angle.  As explained by Jim Wangers in his book Glory Days, not only did the Monkees have a heavily customized GTO for the show, aka The Monkeemobile (which I can’t stand) they were also provided with normal GTOs to drive around.  Wangers was upset that the band members didn’t really appreciate the gesture, and used to open the studio gates with the cars’ front bumpers if the studio’s security guard wasn’t around to let them in.  Also, one of them was caught driving his GTO at 120 mph in Los Angeles.  Wangers thought it would be excellent publicity for the car if this made the headlines, but the band’s management succeeded at squelching the story.  Pontiac actually came into the Monkees picture due to marketing tie-in’s with Kellogg’s, who were obviously a blatant sponsor of the show.  Wangers’ overall impression of the Monkees and the whole experience with the show was fairly negative, but he was very impressed with the marketing prowess of the Kellogg’s team.

While I won’t claim that the Monkees are really a top band or their shows were “neat or cool”, they are a substantial piece of late 60s American pop culture, to be endured and enjoyed in small doses by anyone with either extreme patience or heavy nostalgia.  

M*A*S*H 4077th Suicide is Painless

A minor tribute to the famous TV show, including its distinctive theme song (one of the better ones to come out of the US TV industry). I consider most TV to be crap and trash, but occasionally some true gems shine out, and this is definitely one of them.

M*A*S*H

Were it not for this series, the Korean War would be completely forgotten except by those who actually fought in the war – and the Koreans themselves.  It’s like “WWII junior” with jets thrown in and the Chinese and North Koreans as the bad guys instead of the Germans and Japanese.  Tokyo is the source of R&R and geisha girls instead of a firebombing target for the USAAF.  It lacks the rice paddies, jungles, helicopters, 60s Woodstock music, marijuana/counterculture, and of course, provocative, pervasive prostitution that the Vietnam War injected permanently into our minds.

Korean War.  June 1950.  North Korea invaded South Korea in a surprise attack, pushing the South Koreans down to the bottom of the peninsula, to a tiny perimeter at Pusan which barely held out.  September 1950.  General MacArthur pulls a stunt: he landed at Inchon, behind North Korean lines, catching the North Korean Army by surprise, and UN forces drove all the way up to the Chinese border.  November 1950: a huge army of Chinese “volunteers” swarmed across the border and pushed the UN forces back down to the 38^th Parallel, where stalemate ensued, until an armistice was signed two years later.

Movie.  The movie came out in 1970.  The theme song, “Suicide is Painless”, actually has lyrics.  Long after being familiar with the TV show, I watched this, and was not very impressed.  While the familiar characters are here, though in most cases with different actors, as well as the elements and ingredients, it strikes me that the TV show had the benefit of running with the concept and developing it much further, plus allowing the various actors to flesh out their respective characters over several seasons and not merely 90 minutes.  The movie also features “Duke” Forrest, Tom Skerritt’s character, who is absent from the TV show.

TV Series.  Lasted from 1972-83 – far longer than the war itself.  (Be sure to catch all 400 seasons of the laugh-a-minute sit-com based on the Hundred Years War!).  The theme song is now an instrumental.

Characters

Captain Benjamin Franklin “Hawkeye” Pierce (Movie: Donald Sutherland).  Played on the TV show by Alan Alda – forever typecasting him as Hawkeye, at least for those of us who knew him from “M*A*S*H”.  From Crabapple Cove, Maine.  Easily the main character, and one of the few to remain throughout the entire run of the series.  He loves his martinis – a very pretentious affectation – and is always wisecracking, though he’s also very sensitive.  He loves to consider himself a Groucho Marx clone.

Captain Trapper John MacIntyre (Wayne Rogers)(seasons 1-3).  Originally played by Elliot Gould in the movie.  He never really seemed to have much of a role than to be a comic sidekick friend to Hawkeye to make them a pair.  In fact, this was the reason why Rogers left the show.

Captain B.J. Hunnicutt (Mike Farrell)(seasons 4-11).  From San Francisco, wife Peg and daughter Erin (name of his real life daughter).  He took over from Trapper John mid series, so there was no movie version of him.  I’ve noticed Farrell showed up recently, remarkably only little older than in “M*A*S*H”, as Victor Long’s father on “Desperate Housewives”.  Like Trapper John, BJ really doesn’t seem to have much more importance than to be a supporting character to play off Hawkeye.

Major Frank Burns (Larry Linville) (seasons 1-5).  Played in the movie by Robert Duvall.  Married, but having an affair with Major Houlihan.  I notice that all the doctors – even Colonel Potter – consider themselves to be doctors first, and military officers second, with very little care or concern for military formalities beyond the minimum required of them.  Burns was the one who got stuck up in being a MAJOR and an officer, to the detriment of his medical skills.  This is despite the fact that he is not career military and has a private practice back in the US like all the other doctors. Like Colonel Flagg (the idiot military intelligence officer) Burns seems to act as a magnet for civilian hatred of typical military types as being morons and buffoons.

Major Charles Emerson Winchester, III (David Ogden Stiers) (seasons 6-11).  From Boston.  Incredibly arrogant and stuck up, even affecting the snobbish, stilted New England accent.  He inflicts his noxious classical music on his roommates Hawkweye and Hunnicutt, reads letters from his sister Honoria, and typically acts pompous and better than anyone else.  In one episode he gets a taste of his own medicine when an arrogant English officer slams him as a wanna-be and considers even New England Americans to be second-class. Although he took over from Burns, he doesn’t share Burns’ idiocy or devotion to military discipline for its own sake, though he doesn’t share Hawkeye’s anti-military attitude either.

Major Margaret “Hot Lips” Houlihan (Movie: Sally Kellerman; TV: Loretta Swit).  An army brat, no real hometown – the Army IS her life.  Her father is a big shot general.  She takes her role as head nurse seriously but has compassion for the nurses under her.  She has a friendly but platonic relationship with Hawkeye, though at the same time she chafes at his obnoxiously anti-military and unprofessional attitude – and teams up with Burns, her lover, to try to take out Colonel Blake.

Corporal Walter “RADAR” O’Reilly (Gary Burghoff both in the movie and the TV series) (seasons 1-7).   The company clerk until Klinger took over.  Very shy farm boy from Iowa, average intelligence, but a nice guy.  I loved the episode where Hawkeye and BJ managed to weasel him a commission as 2LT so he could hook up with a cute nurse who insisted she only dated officers – and who rejected him anyway even with the gold bar.  He clutches a teddy bear and loves grape NeHi soda.

Corporal (later Sergeant) Maxwell Klinger (Jamie Farr).  The Lebanese clerk from Toledo, Ohio – most famous for dressing in drag to get a Section 8 (discharge for insanity).  Of course this never worked, the classic “Catch-22” – applying for Section 8 proves you aren’t insane.  He dropped the Section 8 routine by season 8 when he replaced RADAR as the company clerk. Not only a capable clerk, he knew all the ins and outs of the supply and Korean underground – he knew how to get anything, something which the naive, innocent RADAR couldn’t handle.

Colonel Henry Blake (McLean Stevenson)(seasons 1-3).  I never liked him – he was really a slacker, far more so than Hawkeye, who at least brought wit and humor so we could laugh WITH him, not AT him.  He was always wearing a fishing cap or his college sweater.  I suppose some portion of the audience related to him, but I never did.

Colonel Sherman Potter (Harry Morgan)(seasons 4-11).  From somewhere in Missouri.  Served in WWI (which he refers to as “W W Eye”).  I liked him far more than Blake – very military, but still a doctor and he had a heart.  Given his extensive service I think Potter is career military and not simply called up for the war the way the rest of the medical staff was.  Potter could see the forest for the trees and understand the spirit of military regs without getting caught up, as Burns did, in the formality and letter of it.  I still think of Harry Morgan as Colonel Potter, even when seeing him in “Dragnet”.  His fondness for his horse and the cavalry led Winchester to slam him as “our beloved Colonel Cowpie”.
 
Father Mulcahy (1LT, later Captain) (Movie: Rene Auberjunois; TV: William Christopher).  The camp chaplain, always a sympathetic character.  He was religious without being a hard-ass pompous zealot, the perfect combination we seek from men in the cloth.

Minor characters: Ho-Jon, their South Korean servant boy.  No, not Ganymede;  Ugly John, a colorful, mustached Australian trooper complete with slouch hat; Spearchucker, their Afro friend with the charming politically incorrect nickname – I know he’s a tentmate of Hawkeye and Trapper and has an officer’s rank, but I have no idea if he’s actually a surgeon.

I’ve always liked the show, though I probably haven’t seen nearly all the episodes despite having watched it since it was originally on in the 70s.  In later episodes the show got progressively darker and more cynical, to the point where they had nightmares drenched in blood, Hawkeye would sleep walk, and things started getting really strange.  For some reason all the actors and actresses have 70s-era haircuts (e.g. Farrell’s mustache), unlike “Happy Days” where the hair was appropriate for the 50s. The finale show itself was extremely well done, and so depressing you almost wished “hey, why can’t the war continue indefinitely, so as not to break up this family?”  But everything comes to an end – even wars and TV shows.

Jam Bands

I’ve been listening to Man alot lately, especially the expanded edition of the studio album Back Into The Future, which includes the full 1973 show at the Roundhouse, not to be confused with the 1972 show, included in the Greasy Truckers album (with Brinzley Schwartz and Hawkwind), or the 1975 show which was immortalized on Maximum Darkness with John Cippolina of Quicksilver Messenger Service. The Greasy Truckers set was fantastic, practically nonstop jamming – which led me to decide on this entry.


What is a “jam band”? To me, a jam is an extended improvisation involving the entire band. From this I have to disqualify various guitar-oriented bands which set aside a portion of the live set for the guitarist to go off on his own, alone on stage, e.g. Black Sabbath, AC/DC, or Blue Oyster Cult. Oddly, BOC could have been considered a jam band back when they were Stalk-Forrest Group, because “St. Cecilia” and “A Fact About Sneakers” have extended jams, whereas “Buck’s Boogie” and “Then Came The Last Days of May” simply feature Buck Dharma soloing on his own. Similar to Van Halen, their current live setup gives the drummer a drum solo and the bassist a bass solo – even Cliff Burton did that. Sorry, “jam” involves the whole band, not this “taking turns in the spotlight” deal. And “Freebird” does not make Lynyrd Skynyrd a jam band.


Grateful Dead. Probably the top jam band in reputation alone. Oddly, their top album American Beauty has no jamming on it. Having two drummers, Mickey Hart and Bill Kreutzman, truly complicates things, but the overall effect is mesmerizing. Every set, on every tour, was a complete surprise, even if certain songs tended to follow one another. The vast volume of bootlegs, openly recorded and traded among fans, greatly expands the variety of songs in their repertoire, well beyond the studio albums. Moreover, the same song could be dramatically extended or played in various different “moods”. To the Dead themselves I’ll tack on the derivative bands Ratdog (Bobby Weir), Phil Lesh & Friends, and even Phish and Widespread Panic.


Allman Brothers. Sounding similar to the Dead but with a more rock attitude. Warren Haynes played with the Dead on the 2004 tour. To be honest, though, I’ve only heard At The Fillmore East, and can’t comment on their live performances without Duane Allman.


King Crimson. After listening to the studio albums to get the bare minimum basis, listen to the live material, and prepare to be amazed. The live stuff takes off to a completely different dimension, including lots of material, e.g. Holst’s “Mars” and “All That Glitters Is Not Gold”, which don’t appear on any studio albums. Even more so than the Dead, Crimson truly expand in the live context, like a caterpillar blossoming into a butterfly (“WHO-ARE-YOU??”). Hell, some of the live tracks are simply called “Improv”.


Pink Floyd. With Floyd, it’s less of a vast distance between the albums and the live material the way it is with the Dead and Crimson, but they do jam.


Hawkwind. They add a heavy dose of electronica and psychedelia into the mix. Stiff competition with the Dead for this type of noise, but Hawkwind are much heavier and have less of a country angle. A Hawkwind crowd has a nastier, biker type of element to it than the harmless hippie stock at a Dead show. Both bands cater to LSD and marijuana, but Hawkwind is more skewed towards the raging aggressive psychosis of LSD than the Dead, who are much more mellow and less intense. Hawkwind tends to pull you into the psychosis as a participant, whereas the Dead are content to leave you as a mere spectator.


Deep Purple. They qualify based on the 20 minute “Space Truckin’” on Made in Japan alone (which took up an entire side on the original vinyl), but I find that Purple don’t do very well at maintaining momentum throughout the jam the way many others of these bands do. Moreover, Purple do tend to stratify the jams into guitar (Blackmore), keyboards (Lord) and drums (Paice) rather than a true jam, a chemical “suspension” rather than a “solution”. I also noticed that the extended jams which you could expect from Marks II-IV no longer occur with the post-1984 lineups.


Man. Easily the most heavily guitar-oriented of the jam bands, without being heavy metal. True distortion and not the annoying bright distortion-less treble sound of Jerry Garcia’s guitar, but also without the “wayyyyyyyyy off into space” electronica of Hawkwind. The Greasy Truckers’ set was practically a nonstop guitar solo, yet it never got dull or lost its momentum. The more I hear, the more I like. Plus they have a refreshingly irreverent talent for odd song names (shared with Budgie, BOC, and Frank Zappa), my favorite being “Many Are Called, But Few Get Up”.


Particle. By far the newest of these, injecting a heavy dose of funk and techno into the equation. But the guitarist, wailing on a Les Paul with thick distortion, gives it the balls that the Dead often lack. This was another band I listened to nonstop – thanks Diane!

Frank Zappa.  Usually known for his humor, Zappa was all over the place musically.  On Hot Rats, he's well into jam band territory.

My Cousin Vinny Deer Hunting

An excellent illustration of the classic Brooklyn accent from both Joe Pesci and Marisa Tomei. Of course she misses the point just to make a statement: Vinnie wasn't asking what the DEER would think of his pants, he was asking what the District Attorney would think of them. (Personally, I would have preferred her "voir dire" by the DA - "base timing on '57 Chevy Bel Air with 327 cubic inch V8" but this is what I could find).

Accents and Dialects

My native language is English.  Although I’ve learned French, German, and Portuguese, and small doses of Russian, Vietnamese and Romanian, I don’t speak any foreign language fluently enough to avoid having an American accent in those languages (I try for a carioca accent in Portuguese, with debatable success).  My own accent in English is fairly standard.  My relatives from my father’s side, originally from Brooklyn, have mostly kept that thick New York accent despite relocating to Northern Virginia, North Carolina, and Florida – oddly, my father was the only one who didn’t sound like that.  My mom and most of her relatives from Worcester, Massachusetts, similarly have the Boston accent.  I’ve found that movies and TV do an excellent job of illustrating various accents & dialects, at least in English.  Since that’s my native language and the one I’m most fluent in and familiar with, I’ll focus most of my attention there.

England/Commonwealth.   Here alone we have several variants:

1.         There seems to be a standard “English” accent, affected by butlers everywhere.  Listen to Michael Caine.

2.         There is the very lower-class cockney (lower class) accent with dropped h’s,  Recall “National Lampoon’s European Vacation” where Clark Griswold (Chevy Chase) has difficulty understanding the London innkeeper’s thick cockney accent and asks, “what language is he speaking??” and the son, Rusty, helpfully notes, “English, dad!”  See also Monty Python.

3.         A northern Newcastle/Yorkshire accent, though I can’t seem to distinguish this one personally.

4.         I seem to notice a different accent from Liverpool – particularly when John, Paul, George or Ringo speak – it always seems like every statement is a question (?).  I’ve noticed that Ozzy Osbourne – who is from Birmingham – has this accent.  Yet Tony Iommi and Geezer Butler, also from Birmingham, do not.  Go figure.

5.         Welsh.  This is one I have a hard time recognizing as separate, though I’m told it exists.

6.         Scots.  No problem with this one, or shortage of examples, most notably Sean Connery, who can’t seem to drop it no matter the role.  In “The Rundown”, the Scottish pilot has such a thick Scottish accent it’s barely recognizable as English.  It also strikes me that every single sports show on soccer, in English, has to have at least ONE guy with a Scottish accent as a commentator.  And there is Groundskeeper Willie on the Simpsons, and “Fat Bastard” (Mike Myers in “Austin Powers”).  God only knows why Shrek, an ogre, should have a Scottish accent, but I guess Myers is addicted to that particular affectation.

7.         Irish.  “Frosted Lucky Charms, they’re magically delicious!” and “Irish Spring” commercials – and Bono – have cemented this in US culture.

8.         Australians also have their own accents. Sprinkle in “mate” and you’re good to go. Paul “Crocodile Dundee” Hogan popularized it, but you can hear it when Hugh Jackman (Wolverine) or Nicole Kidman (various movies) speaks as an individual and not in a role.  As a matter of fact, I hadn’t seen Kidman play any Australians, so when I first heard her speak in her own voice on a talk show, it surprised me – whoa, she’s Australian!  More recently, the late Steve Irwin was injecting his instantly recognizable Australian accent on his cable shows.

Mel Gibson is a tough call: he speaks in an Australian accent in the “Mad Max” films, but has no trouble losing it for the “Lethal Weapon” and other films; he’s considered “Australian” because he came from there when his film career began, although he only moved there with his family as a teenager, from New Jersey – and the kids at his high school in Australia made fun of him for his New York accent!  Hearing him now speak in his own voice, I don’t detect Australia OR New York in his voice. 

9.         Canadian?  ("Spell like British, talk like Americans.")  I don’t think so.  William Shatner, Peter Jennings, Michael J. Fox, Jim Carrey, are all from Canada yet have accents indistinguishable from the standard American accent.  They don’t even punctuate the ends of their sentences with “eh”.  "Aboot" the only Canadian deal is how they pronounce "about" and "z" as "zed". And Shatner is from Montreal!  All the Canadians I know personally – who are all from Ottawa – sound exactly like Americans.  I can’t qualify “Canadian” as a separate accent.

So there are a total no less than 8 separate accents from this portion of the world alone.

USA.  With a vast and varied population spread across the continent, it’s no wonder we have our own share of idiosyncratic accents.

1.         We have a “standard” American accent, shared with English-speaking Canadians, which you can hear in any news anchor.  This is what I have – so I would believe.

2.         Then you have Boston/New England, as you can hear every time you listen to any of the Kennedys – JFK, RFK, Teddy, or even their offspring.  I can’t say I recall what JFK Jr.’s voice sounds like.

3.         New York/New Jersey/Brooklyn (which doubles as a de facto Jewish accent), VERY popular in TV/movies, with Joe Pesci & Marisa Tomei (“My Cousin Vinny”), Fran Drescher, Matt LeBlanc, Barbra Streisand, Woody Allen, and far too many to name.  Oddly, none of the main characters on “Sex in the City” have New York accents, and LeBlanc is the only “Friends” cast member who does.  On “Seinfeld”, Mr & Mrs Costanza really top the bill, though Mrs Seinfeld’s accent is very strong.  Popular expressions in this accent are “OH MY GAWWDD” (usually spoken by young Jewish women) and “foggetaboutit” (usually spoken by Mafia types).

4.         a flat Midwest accent;

5.         A Minnesota accent, perhaps a variation on the Midwest accent, almost sounds German (“Fargo”) the way they say “yes” as “ya”.

6.         There are variations on the southern accent, including

A.         Texas (long and drawn out, like the huge flat plains of Texas) – hear our Beloved Leader speak, or Phil Gramm, and you’ll hear it; and

B.         Louisiana, particularly New Orleans, which have their own sub-accents.  I recall having immense difficulty understanding Sean Penn et al in “All The King’s Men”, which is loosely based on Huey Long.  It’s like some strange mix of Southern and French which ends up sounding like neither of them.

7.         Latinos have the “Mexican” accent popularized by Cheech Marin. Given the huge amounts of Hispanics living in the US permanently for decades, I categorize this as a native US variant. 

8.         Blacks of course have their “ebonic” – which is, to my ears, simply a black version of the southern accent even among blacks from New York, Chicago, or L.A., far from the south.  Of course, for a black to be taken seriously among whites – e.g. Barack Obama – he has to drop the ebonics, with rare exceptions such as Eddie Murphy or Chris Rock. 

9.         You could also qualify the California “surfer” accent as one of its own (listen to Keanu Reeves), meaning 10 accents of English from the US.

Foreigners speaking English. 

1.         We’ve all heard French people speaking English.  Most of them seem to be better at making themselves understood than the hapless Inspector Clouseau from the “Pink Panther” movies (originally Peter Sellers, most recently Steve Martin). 

2.         Despite living in the US since the 70s and taking speech lessons, Arnold Schwarzenegger still has a thick German ("Cherman") accent.  We’ve all seen enough WWII movies to recognize Germans speaking English with an accent, the older of us remembering Henry Kissinger.  W’s turn into V’s, V’s turn into F’s, and with no J sound – G is pronounced as in “gore” and J is pronounced as a y – they have to resort to “CH” instead. 

3.         My friend Leila still has a delicious Brazilian accent (“that is not a MEAWLLL!”) despite living in the US, off and on, since the mid-70s.  Brazilians and Portuguese seem to have trouble with L’s at the end of sentences, curling them up as if there was a W in there somewhere, especially if there is an offending R before the L (“world” turns into “wold”).  Both Brazilians and Spanish – listen to Penelope Cruz, who is from Madrid – sound much different than Mexicans, so I put this as a non-American variant. 

4.         Romanians tend to sound like Dracula, very similar to Russians and Hungarians (e.g. Zsa Zsa Gabor) – very seductive coming from a woman.  Boris & Natasha from “Rocky & Bullwinkle” give us the classic Russian accent.  Andy Kauffman did a passable Hungarian accent as “Latka Gravas” on the TV show “Taxi”, so much so that Gene Simmons, the bassist from KISS, remarked that when he first came to the US from Israel (his parents were Hungarian) and his English wasn’t very good, he sounded like the “Taxi” character.  Russian does not have definite articles (“the”) so Russians who don’t speak English very well often drop the “the’s” when speaking.  They all love to roll their R’s, which Scots seem to do as well.

5.         Italians have their own English accent.  The deal we hear is that they pepper the speech with Italian words (“capiche?” (understand?), “bellissima!” (very pretty, referring to a woman) and “presto!” (faster)) and, if really thick, add “-a” after every verb.  This variant seems to have been the source for the New York accent mentioned above – an irony, because my father’s relatives are from Poland, not Italy, yet they have that accent.  Like most of the others it’s part musical and part comical, even somewhat endearing – particularly coming from someone like Sophia Loren.

6.         On the other extreme of aural aesthetics to my ears, are Asians speaking English poorly, particularly Vietnamese.  ARRGH.  As attractive as some Asian women are, there is nothing sexy to me about a Vietnamese accent.  It could just as easily be Bai Ling (schwing) as the yelling old woman in curlers (“Kung Fu Shuffle”).  Chinese and Japanese are notorious for turning R’s into L’s.

7. And there is the common Indian accent we hear more and more often when calling tech support or when being hassled by cluelessly persistent collections departments.  Nothing endearing about it, whether from a 7-11 clerk or a dot-headed, sari-wrapped Indian woman.  Incidentally, Pakistanis sound similar, although they’d hate to be lumped in with Indians.

8.  Likewise, Arabs and Iranians – yes, I know Iranians speak Farsi, not Arabic – still sound the same to me speaking English.

Foreign Languages:

French.  So far as I understand, there is northern, Parisian-style French, and southern French which is leftover from Celtic.  And French Canadians speak a completely different dialect, which French can tell immediately.German.  Northern German vs. southern German (Bavarian and Austrian).  My friend Jean’s German wife, Ina, wasn’t a big fan of the Austrian variant.  I’m not aware that Swiss have their own variant.

Portuguese.  Brazilians can distinguish Portuguese from Portugal itself, from their own accents, which come in different variants: carioca (Rio de Janeiro), paulista (São Paulo), northeast (Bahia, Recife), and southwest (Rio Grande do Sul), which passes for the “southern accent” in Brazil.

Vietnamese.  As with so many other countries, there seems to be a north accent (Hanoi), middle accent (Hue), and southern accent (Saigon) – as well as a few other more obscure ones.  I can’t tell the difference.