From the Green Room: Give Pee-Wee A Hand

Actor Paul Reubens, (of Pee Wee’s Playhouse fame) says he has evidence that   would have proven he was innocent of playing with his Pee Wee in a Porn Theatre, had his Indecent Exposure case actually gone to trial.

Which begs the question: What type of forensic proof might he be ready to offer, short of a Monica Lewinsky-style garment, mysteriously bereft of a DNA sample?

Nineteen years ago, the Pee Wee Herman scandal was the headline, during what wasn’t exactly a “slow news week.” The story broke the same time as Jeffrey Dahmer’s.  Pee Wee was the lead. That’s right: a man who killed people, drilled holes in their head, filled them with acid, and, once or twice, actually ATE them…was below the fold, in favor of the child-like man who spanked it in a cinema in Sarasota.  As the saying goes, “time heals all wounds.” Now Dahmer is dead and Pee-Wee is making a comeback, with a Broadway show and a movie deal in the works.

Because evidently, Mr. Wee has an expert researcher from the Masters and Johnson Institute, who would have testified that in thirty years worth of test data, they have found it is “virtually impossible” for a person to pleasure his or herself with a non-dominant hand. According to research, Righties “Rub the Rhubarb” with their right hands, Lefties “Lope the Llama” with the Southpaw; traits that suggest the ambidextrous are a horny little bunch. The Peester is right-handed, and the police report stated he was caught using his left.  Case dismissed.

But as every pre-pubescent boy will tell you, NOTHING is “virtually impossible’”when it comes to masturbation. When it comes to dealing with surges in hormone levels, the adage “where there’s a will, there’s a way” holds sway.

Besides, everybody knows that you switch hands to make it seem like someone else is doing it.

From the Green Room: Cheese Doodles and Legacies

Death, while inevitable, is tragic. But for some reason, when great people pass away the heartbreak is particularly sad. The loss of folks who have made great contributions to the human condition feels somehow greater, if only because they are no longer among us to keep contributing. That is why today, I mourn Morrie Yohai, the inventor of the Cheese Doodle.
Good Ol' Morrie 
Morrie, we hardly knew ye.
 
Mr. Yohai was the president of Old London Foods, the wonderful folks who gave you Melba Toast. According to legend, Morrie was watching a cornmeal extruder machine expulse Dipsy Doodles, the rippled corn chip that most snack food connoisseurs prefer over Fritos if only because they don’t smell like feet, when inspiration struck and Morrie set about creating a tube-like snack coated in powdered cheese that revolutionized the industry. Baked, rather than fried (like the much greasier, and less addictive Cheetos), they were a lighter and "healthier" snack.

After Borden bought Old London Foods, Yohai served as Vice President until the company moved from New York to Ohio. During his tenure, Morrie was the man who chose the prizes that went into Crackerjack Boxes.  Before stumbling over this ripe tidbit of information today, I was unaware that there even WERE prizes in Crackerjack boxes. This, I now realize, must have been the reason why my pediatric gastroenterologist would always ask why I was eating whistles and plastic sherriff’s badges.
 
any Doodles on that table?What’s ironic about this sad event in snack food history is that Yohai’s son, Robbie, maintains that the Cheese Doodle was not his father’s only triumph. Apparently, he was also a WWII Marine pilot, a college teacher and administrator, a religious scholar, and an author. Yes, the grandfather of the snack food choice of Buddhist Monks everywhere (because the cheese powder is virtually undetectable on their orange robes) published a book of Torah poems. Amazon offers the Spanish translation of the paperback for $8.95. However, it’s currently out of stock.  
 
Yohai is the textbook definition of a renaissance man, and yet ultimately the only thing he will be remembered for is the Cheese Doodle. Not that it’s an unremarkable achievement, mind you; his place in the Junk Food Hall of Fame is right up there with the guy who decided to package Pringles in tennis ball containers. But one would think that a WWII Marine pilot and poet whose work was so genius it was translated into other languages would be celebrated for those accomplishments first.
 
poor Dan ResinIt’s like actor Dan Resin, a Broadway veteran who starred in "My Fair Lady," "Don’t Drink the Water," "On A Clear Day You Can See Forever," and originated roles in "Once Upon a Mattress," "Young Abe Lincoln," and "Fade Out, Fade In."  He was the Master of Ceremonies at the old Roxy Theatre, and also emceed at, no less, Radio City Music Hall. He made 14 major motion pictures, everything from "The Sunshine Boys" with Walter Matthau and George Burns to Brian DePalma’s "Wise Guys," and was the inimitable Dr. Beeper in "Caddyshack." He also made a number of commercials. And so, unfortunately, his passing was announced with the headline that featured the role he was most known for:
 
"Ty-D-Bowl Man, Dead at 79." 
 
You can be a classically trained Broadway veteran and a respected Hollywood character actor boasting a 54-year career…and your only legacy is that you were the guy in the yacht cap sitting in the rowboat in the toilet tank.  
 
Death, where is thy sting? Oh. There it is.  

From the Green Room: Angelina's Biography

There’s a new, unauthorized biography about Angelina Jolie that paints her as a bizarrely eccentric woman whose behavior is grounded in a deeply troubled childhood due to an extremely unorthodox family dynamic. 

Not exactly the Book of Revelations.

However, it IS a fascinating read, as she is one of the most enigmatic figures in pop culture today.  Every page has a train wreck quality about it; the reader is alternately compelled and repulsed, yet can’t turn away. Among the myriad anecdotes and recollections about her, to say the very least, “storied” life are episodes of drug use, bisexuality and suicidal thoughts.  And those were just the pre-school years.

She had a mother-sanctioned live-in boyfriend at age 14 who shared her passion for knives and swords as well as a proclivity for “cutting” himself. Her suicidal obsession once drove her to the point where she put a hit out…on herself. Pills would seem somewhat easier, or even closing the garage door while keeping the BMW running, but you really have to want to die to stage your own assassination.  Let’s say you change your mind—how do you convince your hired gun to call it off?  Hit men are, for the most part, pretty focused individuals, not easily interrupted. Thankfully, Angelina was able to avoid getting whacked to provide us with many more years of weird and wacky hijinx.

Not the least of which was the famous kiss she gave her brother after she won the Best Supporting Actress Oscar. It was not a buss normally associated with siblings…unless said kinfolk hailed from West Virginia.  It was a full-on, Seven-Minutes-in-Heaven soul kiss, bringing new meaning to the term “brotherly love.”

But some of the juiciest disclosures are about her former husband, Billy Bob Thornton, he of “Sling Blade” fame. They suggest that his breakout role as mentally disturbed murderer ‘Carl’ was not that much of a stretch, acting-wise.  Thornton is painted as a man of many idiosyncrasies, with obsessive-compulsive disorder, a paralyzing fear of flying, and a hatred of harpsichords, silverware…and French furniture. Which is probably why he never turns up on “Antiques Roadshow.” 

Oh, and he only eats orange colored foods. 

I’m waiting for the Billy Bob Bio. I’m a big fan of Tang.

From the Green Room: Food Festivals

good for youLast Friday was National Cheesecake day, a cheap attempt by the National Cream Cheese Council to get you to indulge in an extra 500 calories or so. It’s like the Tequila Distillers PR Machine making Cinco De Mayo the Mexican version of St. Paddy’s Day. It’s a scam not unlike the Greeting Card Companies creating Mother’s Day and Father’s Day just to get you to buy more of something that you probably shouldn’t be buying in the first place. I love my Mom, but she doesn’t need me blowing 3 bucks on some cardboard and lace validation of my feelings for her.

Every summer, Food Festivals, events designed to showcase local, regional delicacies, are bounteous. There are almost as many of them as there are bacteria in the Jersey Shore Beach House Jacuzzi. On June 5th, the Little Chute Cheese Festival was held, naturally, in Wisconsin. For three days, a gastronomical explosion of "les belles choses de fromage" takes place, with rides for the kids, well, now we know who cut the cheesecheese tastings and, of course, the world-famous cheese carving exposition. You haven't lived until you’ve seen a Leaning Tower of Pisa fashioned completely out of Sardinian Pecorino Romano.  It certainly sounds festive, although one wonders what kind of "rides for the kids" might compliment the theme: a "Cheese Log Flume," a "Roller Curdster," or a "Ferris Wheel of Brie?" 

Yarmouth, Massachusetts hosts a Clam Festival; Cordova, Alaska a Salmon Festival; and Rockland, Maine a Lobster Festival, all making perfect sense. But there are some Food Fests that, at first glance, appear somewhat unusual, to say the least.

Everyone’s favorite Eastern European potato dumpling gets feted every July in Whiting, Indiana, when the Pierogi Fest takes place. Last year it featured The World’s Largest Pierogi: a big pierogia 92-pound carbohydrate overload fashioned from 27 lbs of flour, 18 eggs, 58 potatoes, two gallons of water, "lots of onions," and enough butter to slam shut at least two arteries by just looking at it.

Further West, you would have been safe from all Vampires this past July 24th in Gilroy, California, the setting of the 30th annual Garlic Festival. The fragrant blossom was celebrated in myriad forms, from French Fries to Ice Cream to The Great Garlic Cook-Off and the Miss Gilroy Garlic Pageant, an event that must have one hell of a talent competition. Coincidentally, on July 25th, neighboring San Martin, California hosted its 29th annual Toothpaste and Mouthwash Festival. 

But the jewel in the food festival crown will take place this Thursday, August 4th, when the Rock Creek Lodge in Clinton, Montana, hosts the opening night party of the renowned Testy Festy… the Testicle Festival.  For only $17, you can avail yourself of "five Days and nights of wild, sexy, pretty much the only PG-13 pic from Testy Festynaked fun." Other than the predictable Rocky Mountain Oyster eating contest, the events include wet t-shirt contests, tattoo contests, beer belly contests, oil-wrestling contests, best chest contests, and something intriguingly called the "Undie 500."   As the photos on their website suggest, the Testy Festy appears to be a biker-heavy bacchanalia rivaling Mardi Gras in New Orleans. There are rules, ostensibly to keep the proceedings classy:  no minors, no pets, no weapons or firearms and no fireworks or explosives.

Hopefully, those restrictions won’t keep anyone from "having a ball."

From the Green Room: Camera Shy No More

bad teacherA former New Hampshire High School teacher plead guilty to charges that she texted nude photos of herself to a 15-year old student. Star Magazine has graphic shots of a naked Angelina Jolie with a dog collar around her neck and electrical tape over her nipples. There are rumors of a sex tape featuring former Presidential Candidate John Edwards and his baby mama Rielle Hunter. When did Americans suddenly stop being camera shy?   

Porn stars and skin mag centerfolds aside, who EVER feels comfortable being naked, let alone in front of a Polaroid or an iPhone?  Does anybody ever wind up thinking that videotaping themselves bumping uglies was a good idea? I don’t even like the way I look when I walk past a mirror with my clothes on. Why would I ever want to record myself in my most vulnerable of moments? I don’t’ even want to see the look on my face when I’m doing it. Besides, if it’s indeed true that the camera does add 20 pounds, then most sex tapes would resemble Shamu’s feed tank at SeaWorld. Although, if I had sexted bottomless photos of myself to anybody, that little optical physics formula might actually have worked in my favor.

Granted, Angelina was in the middle of a smoking heroin binge when the photos were taken. And it’s not like we’re talking about Mother Teresa posing in the buff—it’s Angelina Jolie. But you do wonder about that high school teacher’s motivation for ‘sexting’ a student a jpeg of her genitals.  

In the past ten years, there has been a torrent of tawdry teachers engaged in sexual conduct with students.  And they are always the hottest teachers in the district.  It’s not a new practice; even back when I was in high school, there were female instructors who taught a little more than the three R’s in the school parking lot. The only difference is they more resembled the lunch ladies. No hair net, but the same sweat stained armpit rings on their blouses and moustaches. The LAST thing you’d ever want to see would be a jpeg or video of them.

Even with their clothes on.