This week, as we polish up our work kit for Byram Hills, a couple of stand-alone epistles.
We almost didn’t make it this week.
The Nostrumite is in a state of permanent depression over a suggestion that has
arrived in our mail e-bag that we somehow allow our episodes to be privately
doctored by this one particular school so that instead of writing about Nostrum
characters, we would be writing about their team. These mad-lib episodes, for
want of a better designation, would be then passed around in their own private
Idaho for their somewhat bizarre personal amusement. As we replied to them, it
is a well-known fact that Herman Melville wrote at great length about his
adventures hunting raccoons in the American northwest. However, some whaling
friends of his in Bedford preferred that he write about their adventures, so
whenever he mentioned raccoons or forests, in their edition, much to his
chagrin—they had an in at the publisher—they substituted whales and oceans. The
great white raccoon Melville’s characters were seeking was named by the author,
Oscar the Raccoon (not very imaginative, we grant you, but Hermie was rather
fond of it). The Bedford contingent changed it to Moby-Dick, after a cook at
the local hash house who had a real way with grilled cheese sandwiches. The
amazing thing is that Mr. Melville’s original has been lost to history, and all
that remains is the unauthorized version. Needless to say, we do not wish the
same thing to happen to Nostrum, and we turned down the suggestion. The Mite
was rather vocal on the issue. “What next?” he asked. “Product placements?
Drop-in visits from the cast of ‘Friends’? Marion Davies movies?” He did
suggest, however, that if people offered cold, hard cash, he’d do it in a
minute.
Apparently the request for Mad Libs Nostrum was a real thing. You'd think that Nostrum was bad enough with characters like Worm Padrewski and Tarnish Jutmoll. Nostrum with Joe Vaughan or Matt Dunay? I just can't imagine it.
Onward:
We almost didn’t make it this week.
The Nostrumite is in a state of permanent depression over the pending release of
postmodern Barbie. According to the press, the Mattel Madonna is coming out
soon in a version with a flower tattoo, and some members of the fifth estate
are suggesting that she may also have nose and lip studs as optional
accessories. Presumably she’ll also smoke, club hop, and enjoy music by groups
that only know two chords and still have trouble finding them on their guitars.
Over the years the lad has been more than amused by the manifestations of the
goddess of the Baby Boom, which have included both Elvis and George Washington,
and he was heartily amused at the suggestion that she was going in for a nip
and a tuck and a lipo to make her more human and less... whatever she is. “Have
you ever tried to put shoes on one of those things?” he asks. Well, to tell you
the truth, no. Anyhow, he could abide all of these, but pomo Barbie takes the
whole thing a few steps too far. “What’s next?” he asks. “Shooting Gallery
Barbie? Crackhead Barbie?” High Falutin, whose experience of Barbie apparently
extends beyond reading the ads in the Toys ‘R Us catalog, suggested to the lad
that he stick to subjects about which he has some knowledge, rather than trying
to interfere in the milieu of seven-year-old girls, to whom this tattoo is probably
as innocent as Barbie’s assemble-it-yourself bordello that High remembers
fondly from her own childhood, but since when is the Nostrumite one to acknowledge
borders to his knowledge? “Speaking of Borders,” he adds, “the clerk at our
Borders [a now defunct bookstore chain] has a tongue stud. ‘Will [click] ckltere be anycklting [click] elcklt,
clktir [click]?’ It’s painful just watching him. I’ll bet you he’s already got
his order in for a truckload of these pomo Barbie babies.”
Maybe.
[click]
And yes, there were Elvis, George Washington and Tattoo Barbies. You're surprised at that?
No comments:
Post a Comment