josh pincus is crying

The current challenge on the Monday Artday illustration website is “circus”.

The 1953 Best Picture Oscar went to Cecil B. DeMille’s The Greatest Show on Earth, an overblown, long-winded, documentary-style film depicting the many aspects and personal stories surrounding a travelling circus. The thin main plot involves a love triangle between Holly (as played by Betty Hutton at her overacting best), the vivacious golden girl trapeze artist, her rival The Great Sebastian (an over confident Cornell Wilde) and circus boss Brad Braden, who, as Holly points out, loves only the circus because he has sawdust in his veins. Brad is played by Charlton Heston in hammy serious mode. This film made Heston a star, making way for career-defining roles in Ben-Hur and The Ten Commandments.

In order to fill its bloated 152 minute run time, the film included Gloria Grahame performing an elephant act, Dorothy Lamour as a showgirl, a spectacular train wreck, long and lovingly-shot crowd scenes, real footage of clowns and acrobats and Hollywood cameos (like Bob Hope and Bing Crosby).

One of the more memorable subplots featured James Stewart in one of the most unusual roles of his illustrious career. Stewart played Buttons the Clown. Buttons never appeared without his familiar makeup. When not performing, Buttons would wear his white face and red lips and nose while dressed in a flannel shirt and fedora. As the story progresses, we find out that Buttons is actually a doctor who helped end the life of his terminally ill wife. Wanted for murder, Buttons joined the circus to hide behind the clown façade. While helping Brad in the aftermath of the train wreck, Buttons reveals his secret in the presence of a police detective. As he is led away in handcuffs in full view of his circus family, Holly the aerialist sadly laments, “He killed the thing he loved most.”

If you can last the entire two and a half hours, you’ll see the great Stewart without his clown makeup. Or you can watch Vertigo if you don’t have that much time.

The current Monday Artday challenge is “winter games”.

I am not a fan of the Olympics. I never have been. I have watched a total of fifteen minutes of the 2010 Winter Olympics. I watch the highlights in the morning on The Today Show before I go to work. According to NBC’s Today Show, there has been no other important or life-changing news in the world except the Winter Olympics. NBC has presented the Olympics less as a sporting event and more as a dramatic television series, playing up stories of injuries and hopes and family loss and aspirations, aiming right for America’s heartstrings.

One story this week caught my attention, but for the wrong reason. Twenty-three year old Dutch speed skater Sven Kramer lost his bid for a gold medal in the 10,000 meter competition. Kramer was instructed by his long-time coach Gerard Kemkers to cross over into the wrong lane in his seventeenth lap. Kemkers held up and waved a hand-written sign and frantically guided Kramer to an incorrect inside lane. Despite skating the course in  a world record 12 minutes 54 seconds, Kramer was disqualified. South Korea’s Lee Seung-Hoon, who was in second place, took the gold.

Kramer threw what is commonly called “a shit fit”, for which he later apologized. A truly memorable Olympic moment.

The Monday Artday current challenge is “caricature”.
I’ll be honest, I went the easy route and drew two famous people who are pretty easy to caricature (because they are almost caricatures themselves), George Burns and Jack Benny.

Despite the on-stage jabs at each other, George Burns and Jack Benny were the best of friends. George Burns hosted several episodes of Jack Benny’s radio show in 1943 when Jack was sick with pneumonia.

Jack and George had a running gag in their friendship. George had no problem getting Jack to laugh, but George was always stone-faced in Jack’s attempts to do the same. One evening, at a party they were both attending, Jack pulled out a match to light a cigarette. George announced to all, “Jack Benny will now perform the famous match trick!” A bewildered Jack had no idea what Goerge was talking about, so he proceeded to strike the match to flame. George observed, “Oh, a new ending!” and Jack collapsed in laughter.

In 1974, Jack Benny was cast in the film version of the Neil Simon play, The Sunshine Boys. Just prior to filming, Jack was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and was too ill to continue his plans for the movie. He suggested his best friend George Burns take over for him, eventhough George had not appeared in a film since 1939. George went on to win the Best Supporting Actor Oscar in 1975 for the role.

Jack Benny passed away in December 1974. George was heartbroken. He tried to deliver one of the eulogies at Jack’s funeral, saying, “Jack was someone special to all of you but he was so special to me…I cannot imagine my life without Jack Benny and I will miss him so very much.” But, George broke down in tears and had to be helped to his seat. Afterwards, George immersed himself in his work, appearing in ten films before his own death in 1996.

He never got over the death of his best friend.

This week’s Monday Artday challenge word is “train”.

I have been riding the train to work for almost three years. It is a pleasure to let someone else take the responsibility of being in charge of my morning and evening commute. I don’t worry about traffic or weather or other drivers. I also get to see a multitude of “interesting” people everyday. It’s sort of pre-work entertainment. My son rides the train regularly, too, and we often trade stories.

Recently, the Southeastern Pennsylvania Transportation Authority (SEPTA) implemented a “QuietRide Car” on rush hour trains, taking a cue from the larger Amtrak trains. Signs were posted at all train stations and on all trains and frequent announcements were made alerting riders about the QuietRide Car policy. And the policy was very clear. The first car on each peak-hour train is the designated as the QuietRide Car. Cellphones were not to be used. Earphones must be used on music devices and the volume must be set low enough so it cannot be heard by other passengers. Conversations between passengers must be kept short and at a whisper. If you do not wish to follow these rules, you should choose another car for your commute.

Unless you are that guy  and the rules don’t apply to you.

Just after the QuietRide Cars were put into effect, my son related an incident on a recent train ride. He likes to listen to his iPod on the train, sometimes at high volumes that can be heard by other passengers. This particular day, he boarded the train and accidentally took a seat on the QuietRide Car. He unhappily, but obediently, lowered the volume on his iPod. Seated behind him was that guy — an older woman in mismatched winter accessories. From his detailed description, I knew her from mornings at our local train station. Despite signs posted and regular announcements informing riders of the rules of the QuietRide Car, she prohibitively dialed and prohibitively screamed into her prohibited cellphone: “I’m on the Quiet Car! THE QUIET CAR! Yeah, so I can’t talk! What? NO, THE QUIET CAR! I’m not allowed to talk or use my phone! So, I gotta hang up ’cause I can’t talk! I SAID I CAN’T TALK! I’M ON THE TRAIN IN THE QUIET CAR, SO I’M NOT ALLOWED TO TALK!!!!”

My son said this went on until the train arrived at his stop.

The current Monday Artday challenge is “candy”.

I was always told not to take candy from strangers. But, for Christ’s sake, he’s got Charleston Chew and you just don’t see them around much.

This week’s challenge on the Monday Artday illustration website is “insanity”.

A group of tigers danced with me
A poem of insanity
One time I ate the letter “G”
A poem of insanity
I fought alone in World War III
A poem of insanity
My arms are where my knees should be
A poem of insanity
I live next door to Brenda Lee
A poem of insanity

They’re watching me with ears that see
A poem of insanity
I built the Bridge at Tappan Zee
A poem of insanity
Above the purple manatee
A poem of insanity
I think about a killing spree
A poem of insanity
And eating crackers with baked brie
A poem of insanity

Once I wrestled big John Wayne
And then I flushed him down the drain
A school of fish I’d entertain
While serving them hot beef chow mein
I thought about a town in Spain
Until I was declared insane

The floor is covered with debris
I see my name on the marquee
I’m introduced by the emcee
But no one hears my constant plea
No one’s here, no one but me
And my poem of insanity

This week’s challenge on the Monday Artday illustration website is “invisible”.

Marjorie’s date with Dr. Griffin was going very well.

The current Monday Artday challenge is “mystic”.

“I am a mystic who is trying to convey the mysteries that have become available to me.”
― Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh

This week’s challenge on the Monday Artday website is “horse“.

According to legend, Catherine the Great of Russia really  loved horses.

This week’s challenge word on the Monday Artday website is “family”.

Years before Joseph Jackson was humiliating his kids into pop stardom, there was Murry Wilson.

As a young man, Murry Wilson desperately longed to be a songwriter. He worked at a Goodyear factory and even suffered the loss of an eye in an industrial accident, all while his songwriting aspirations failed. He had minimal success with a novelty dance song, “Two-Step Side-Step”, which was featured on Lawrence Welk’s radio program. Some of Murry’s songs were recorded in the early 1950s by doo-wop group The Hollywood Flames, a band with no hits and little popularity outside of Los Angeles. Murry’s success was very short-lived.

With his musical career at a halt, Murry started a machining business, but maintained an active interest in music. He encouraged his sons, Carl, Dennis and Brian, to learn to sing and play instruments. The Wilson boys, along with their cousin Mike Love and a friend Al Jardine, formed the Beach Boys in 1961. Murry appointed himself their business manager, co-producer, and publisher. He devoted himself to music full-time, producing and managing several other groups in addition to the Beach Boys.

Murry was a domineering and manipulative man and a tough negotiator on behalf of the Beach Boys, earning them a contract with Capitol Records. However, Murry took an active, though sometimes unwanted, role in molding the sound of the Beach Boys. He obsessed and often viciously fought with son Brian, who was now emerging as the creative force of the group. Murry was abusive, condescending and violent in his outbursts. He allegedly whacked Brian in the head with a 2 x 4, causing a loss of hearing. In the studio control booth, Murry would tinker endlessly with knobs and switches, much to Brian’s chagrin. Brian eventually bought a fake mixing board for Murry and placed it in the studio. Murry happily fiddled with it, although it wasn’t plugged into any real equipment. Finally fed up with the constant interference and second-guessing, Brian relieved Murry of his management responsibilities in 1964, after a forty minute tirade by Murry on how Al should properly sing “Help Me Rhonda”. Murry’s rant climaxed with him yelling “I’m a genius, too!” as a reminder to Brian.

In 1969, Murry sold their publishing company, Sea of Tunes, against the groups’ wishes, for a fraction of what it proved to be worth in later years. Brian claimed that his signature was forged by Murry on several related business documents, making the sale illegal. Mike Love claimed later that Murry purposely left his name off the credits for many songs to avoid paying royalties.

Even after the Beach Boys ended their formal business relationship with Murry, he continued to take an active interest in their career, and continued to give them both solicited and unsolicited advice until he died at age 55 from a heart attack.

This monument, located at 3701 W. 119th Street in Hawthorne, California, stands on the site of the Wilson home, which was demolished in the mid-1980s during construction of the Century Freeway.