Ah, the blissful moment when the drugs take purchase. Aspirin, in this case. What did people in ancient times do? I know, they had aspirin, of a sort - willow bark or willow water, but it can’t have been as efficacious as modern aspirin. Perhaps they just drank. It makes you wonder if everyone in a Western saloon at noon was there because they had a hangover or a toothache or both. It’s possible everyone in the old days had a toothache. The days when you didn’t have one, why that was boot-clickin’ smile-on-yer-puss kinda day, the sorta day makes a man want to take a bath and go a-courtin’. Finally! Kissin’ ain’t gonna hurt today.

An absolutely bootless day, and I’ve resigned the entire week to the heap. No energy for any project of any sort at all; no interest in anything, thanks to this problem which may not be grinding after all. Calling the dentist in the morn. It's hard to work and have thoughts and ideas when there's a railroad spike being driven into your jaw by some incorporeal John Henry.

I was reduced today to laying out ten pages of motel postcards for upcoming site overhaul and considering that an accomplishment. It would be different if it was warmer, perhaps; the weather is cool and the clouds rode low today, like a thumb pressed against a bruise, and everything had a vague dank ache.

I did go to Trader Joe’s, as I do on Tuesday. Except there wasn’t any place to park. The lot was full; there were ten cars waiting to get in; the parking ramp was closed for cleaning. So I left. I wondered: where does this put me in the provisioning schedule, then? Do I have enough for this week? Yes. Because I shop for the week ahead. But now I’m behind next week. Before it even gets here.

So I went to Cub. There was a fellow stocking Li’l Sizzlers breakfast sausages; I said “excuse me” and got a different brand. I wondered if he cared; probably not. Might have cared if I’d taken something he just stocked; I always feel guilty doing that. A few weeks ago I was shopping at Lund’s with the Giant Swede, and we were back in frozen pizzas, and I told him to get a particular brand.

“What, not the Jack’s?” he said, grinning.

“I’d eat a manhole cover smeared with ketchup before I ate a Jack’s.”

“That hurts,” said the guy stocking the freezer. I looked: he was from Jack’s. Had a big box that said JACK’S. Apparently some of the larger brands send their own guys around. I don’t remember exactly what I said, but I didn’t back off on my opinion of Jack’s, because it’s the thing you buy when you have 10 4th graders coming over. Thick inedible crust, a smear of sauce, bland cheese, rubbery nodules of sausage. But it was probably someone’s dream, once. Possibly a little stand somewhere in the early days of pizza, beloved by the locals; he brought out a frozen line, got bought by someone bigger, and now the brand staggers on divorced from its origins and recipe, a corporate creation designed to massage a particular point on the demographic chart.

Wonder if the site has OUR STORY. Checking . . . Ah.

In 1960, in the small town of Little Chute, Wisconsin, a man named Jack had a vision to create the perfect pizza...JACK’S® Pizza was born! Back then, pizzas were handcrafted with the perfect combination of meats, sauce, and cheeses. Jack started his pizza kitchen in the family garage and delivered the pizzas using the family car, a 1949 Plymouth with one bucket seat. Yes, times were pretty simple back then and JACK’S Pizza was just one of life’s simple pleasures.

You can read the beginning like the Powerpuff Girls opening. Sausage . . . . spice . . . everything nice . . . but the professor added an extra ingredient. CHEMICAL ECCHS. Thus, Jack’s PIzza was born!


Something from “Pennies From Heaven” popped up while iTunes was on Random, and it reminded me what a tough sell this must have been. The trailer:


The soundtrack was my earliest introduction to the music of the 30s; I forget how much of a misfire the film was. Except for Bernadette in that dress, am I supposed to enjoy this?



All these kids taken from the Annie Hall classroom scene? Without the pictures it’s a great little piece - they dropped new music into the old cut to extend it - but I just remember sitting in the theater, sensing boredom and confusion. Is this supposed to be funny? Where’s Steve? Were we supposed to enjoy anything in this movie? “Enjoyment” isn’t something you expect in a Dennis Potter product; brilliant excoriating pop-culture hallucinations that are utterly engrossing, yes, but enjoyment isn’t the word.

They got this scene right, though. Stunned everyone in the theater, all six of us: hold on, him? He can do that? It would have been his Cagney Shanghai-Lil moment, if he’s kept at it. The ending of the music sequence drops you back into reality with a splash of cold water, and reminds you: this movie is not fun. If you came here for that Wild and Crazy Guy, he’s not here, and you do know that whole thing is sort of an ironic pre-post-modern take on stand-up comedy anyway, right?



One more ad from 1974. Damned wimmen libbers!



By the way, I’ve reorganized the 1970s Radio section and added more stuff, so it’s now ads / music / PSAs / News. Go here. And of course there's 10 new Disney titles, here.




















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