Just a little oddity to close out this first day of the holiday Video
Weekend. This is one of my favorite classical pieces, at least when arranged by Carl Orff, and any movie that uses it in its soundtrack goes up higher in my evaluation because of it.......
I've put the spotlight on several friends over the last week who have seen
their televersions appear in Toobworld (or in Mel's case, come close to doing
so). Today is no different, as we post this video salute to Griff's Chicken
Shack in Hamden, Ct., owned and operated by Scott Griffin.
This piece was produced for the local TV show 'Ct. Perspectives', but it
won't be running now until June 17th. So I'm going to jump the gun and give
them a tip of the hat now here at Inner Toob.
Griff's Chicken Shack is probably best known for their chicken fingers and
the wall of fame featuring those hardy enough to eat at least ten (maybe the
minimum is fifteen?) And then there's the wrap called the Elvis (as you'll see
in the video.) But for me it's the pulled pork BBQ sandwiches!
Anyhoo, if you find yourself in Hamden, Ct. and in need of a bite to eat,
drop by Griff's Chicken Shack!
A week ago today, 'Saturday Night Live' televised its season finale.
(Their 37th, if I'm not mistaken, and I often am.....)
But it also marked the final appearance by Kristen Wiig as a cast member.
After seven years on the show, creating such characters as Kat, Doonie, Gilly,
and the Target Lady, she'll probably be seeking to capitalize on her Academy
Award nomination for writing "Bridesmaids", in which she also starred.
I never thought I'd ever see an 'SNL' send-off to a cast member that could
equal that given to the late, great Phil Hartman. And in this case, I was
right. This surpassed that classic good-bye.......
I felt myself get a little misty-eyed during that private moment she shared
onstage with Jason Sudeikis - it had an "I'll miss you most of all, Scarecrow"
vibe to it. But when Lorne Michaels came out to dance with her....
Well, as
'Saturday Night Live' would put it, I got verklempt.
Because of the work I'm still doing on the place Long John Silver holds in
the TV Universe, I remembered this incredible song by Emerson, Lake and Palmer.
I introduced my brother Tim to them with a record album (yes, a record album!) I
gave him for Christmas one year, and he rewarded me with a copy of a fantastic
video of this song underscoring relevant scenes from many a pirate movie.
This isn't that video, but another interpretation using scenes from the
movies intercut with the band in performance.
Probably one of the greatest story-telling songs I've ever heard. And my
second favorite ELP song.....
Robin Gibb of the BeeGees passed away earlier this week, a victim of the
cancer that plagued him in recent years. He was preceded in death by his twin
brother Maurice and his younger brother Andy, leaving only Barry Gibb as the
surviving musical member of the family.
Gibb was best known for his musical contributions, probably moreso in
connection with the disco soundtrack of "Saturday Night Fever", but the BeeGees
had several great songs in their musical career before that period. Perhaps
unfortunately, the BeeGees are famous (or infamous?) in the Cineverse for
playing the Lonely Hearts Club Band in the movie based on the music of the
Beatles.
But Robin Gibb also carved out a position for himself in Toobworld League
of Themselves enough times to qualify for membership in the TV Crossover Hall Of
Fame. And those appearances don't even take into account the many times he
appeared - many times with his brothers - on variety shows and award programs,
talk shows and recorded concerts. They even had their own show down in
Australia before really hitting it big back in England.
Robin Gibb also has a Skitlandic televersion, as played by Justin
Timberlake in several outings on 'Saturday Night Live' as part of his brother
Barry's talk show, (Barry Gibb was played by Jimmy Fallon.) And that counts
toward his tally for admission.
Here are some other examples:
What I don't have is any video evidence of an unbilled appearance by Robin
Gibb in an episode of 'Ellen', the sitcom Ellen DeGeneres starred in before her
long-running talk show.
Here's Justin Timberlake as Robin Gibb on
'Saturday Night Live':
Robin also composed a song for the
"Sesame Street Fever" album which isn't technically a part of the TV Universe,
but there is a nice fan-made video to go along with it:
So in keeping with my new tradition of honoring those individuals who have
departed with instant entry into the TV Crossover Hall Of Fame if they
qualified, I'd like to take this opportunity to sadly welcome Robin Gibb into
the ranks.
This may be the first time - outside the four times a month year-long
celebration of the Hall's tenth anniversary - in which more than two inductions
have been held in the same month. It is also the second one this month
triggered by a death here in the Trueniverse.
So much for "the merry month of May"....
Welcome to the TV Crossover Hall of Fame, Robin Gibb. I'm sorry you found
yourself a member too soon......
Earlier this week marked the second anniversary since 'Lost' went off the
air. For me personally, the show ranks as my sixth favorite of all Time. (Oh,
okay - 'The Prisoner', 'The Mary Tyler Moore Show', 'The Dick Van Dyke Show',
'Columbo', 'Doctor Who')
TV columnist Alan Sepinwall (whose HitFix blog is listed to the left as
"What's Alan Watching?") posted six key moments in the series that he considered
to be the best, as far as characters, events, emotions on the part of the
viewer, etc. Out of those six, I'd say these were the top two for me:
After seeing that first season finale for the first time, I sat there and
rewound the videotape again and again just to watch the whole sequence again and
again. It wasn't just knowing that this would be the last time I'd be seeing
these characters until the Fall, but it's the emotional punch of saying goodbye
underscored by that swelling orchestral music by Michael Giacchino.
It still packs a wallop for me, as does the flow from the original version
of "The Road To Shamballa" to Giacchino's instrumental version.
And in both, it's Sawyer's search of the area for any sign of
Kate....
The White Knight is a fictional character in Lewis Carroll's book Through
the Looking-Glass. He represents the chess piece of the same name. As imagined
in John Tenniel's illustrations for the Alice stories he has echoes of John
Millais's Sir Isumbras at the Ford.
The White Knight saves Alice from his
opponent, the Red Knight. He repeatedly falls off his horse and lands on his
head, and tells Alice of his inventions, which consists of things such as a
pudding with ingredients like blotting paper, an upside down container, and
anklets to guard his horse against shark bites. He recites a poem of his own
composition, 'A-Sitting on a Gate', (but the song's name is 'Haddocks' Eyes')
and he and Alice depart.
The White Knight has been played by other actors in other TV
dimensions:
"Alice" (2009) Played by Matt Frewer
"Alice in Wonderland" (1999 film)
Played by Christopher Lloyd
"Alice Through the Looking Glass" (1998) Played
by Ian Holm
"Alice Through the Looking Glass" (1987) Played by Alan
Young
"Alice in Wonderland" (1985 film) Played by Lloyd Bridges
"Alice in
Wonderland" (1982) Played by Stephen Boe
"Alice Through the Looking Glass"
(1974) Played by Geoffrey Bayldon
"Alice in Wonderland (or What's a Nice Kid
Like You Doing in a Place Like This?)" (1966) Played by Bill Dana [This is one
of the versions from the Tooniverse.]
"Alice in Wonderland" (1955) Played by
Reginald Gardiner
This may be the first time I've spoken of ToobStage. Like Skitlandia and
The Tooniverse, it is a distinct alternative to the main Toobworld, a world in
which Time is stagnant. The same events happen over and over again but - as
with Skitlandia - the physical appearance of the inhabitants keeps changing. (In
other words, this is the TV dimension in which we find the staged theatrical
plays which are televised.)
At times, Mr. Sweet the Demon strikes certain events along the
timeline......
One thing I liked about this portrayal - it marked one of two chances for Richard Burton to act opposite his daughter Kate (The other being "Ellis Island") just before he died......
Down here, in _this_ world, Bontzye Shweig's death made no impression at
all. Ask anyone you like who Bontzye was, _how_ he lived, and what he
died of; whether of heart failure, or whether his strength gave out, or
whether his back broke under a heavy load, and they won't know. Perhaps,
after all, he died of hunger.
If a tram-car horse had fallen dead, there would have been more
excitement. It would have been mentioned in the papers, and hundreds of
people would have crowded round to look at the dead animal--even the
spot where the accident took place.
But the tramway horse would receive less attention if there were as many
horses as men--a thousand million.
Bontzye lived quietly and died quietly. He passed through _our_ world
like a shadow.
No wine was drunk at Bontzye's circumcision, no healths were proposed,
and he made no beautiful speech when he was confirmed. He lived like a
little dun-colored grain of sand on the sea-shore, among millions of his
kind; and when the wind lifted him and blew him over to the other side
of the sea, nobody noticed it.
When he was alive, the mud in the street preserved no impression of his
feet; after his death, the wind overturned the little board on his
grave. The grave-digger's wife found it a long way off from the spot,
and boiled a potful of potatoes over it. Three days after that, the
grave-digger had forgotten where he had laid him.
If Bontzye had been given a tombstone, then, in a hundred years or so,
an antiquarian might have found it, and the name "Bontzye Shweig" would
have echoed once again in _our_ air.
A shadow! His likeness remained photographed in nobody's brain, in
nobody's heart; not a trace of him remained.
"No kith, no kin!" He lived and died alone!
Had it not been for the human commotion, some one might have heard
Bontzye's spine snap under its load; had the world been less busy, some
one might have remarked that Bontzye (also a human being) went about
with two extinguished eyes and fearfully hollow cheeks; that even when
he had no load on his shoulders, his head drooped earthward as though,
while yet alive, he were looking for his grave. Were there as few men as
tramway horses, some one might perhaps have asked: What has happened to
Bontzye?
When they carried Bontzye into the hospital, his corner in the
underground lodging was soon filled--there were ten of his like waiting
for it, and they put it up to auction among themselves. When they
carried him from the hospital bed to the dead-house, there were twenty
poor sick persons waiting for the bed. When he had been taken out of the
dead-house, they brought in twenty bodies from under a building that had
fallen in. Who knows how long he will rest in his grave? Who knows how
many are waiting for the little plot of ground?
A quiet birth, a quiet life, a quiet death, and a quieter burial.
But it was not so in the _other_ world. _There_ Bontzye's death made a
great impression.
The blast of the great Messianic Shofar sounded through all the seven
heavens: Bontzye Shweig has left the earth! The largest angels with the
broadest wings flew about and told one another: Bontzye Shweig is to
take his seat in the Heavenly Academy! In Paradise there was a noise and
a joyful tumult: Bontzye Shweig! Just fancy! Bontzye Shweig!
Little child-angels with sparkling eyes, gold thread-work wings, and
silver slippers, ran delightedly to meet him. The rustle of the wings,
the tap-tap of the little slippers, and the merry laughter of the fresh,
rosy mouths, filled all the heavens and reached to the Throne of Glory,
and God Himself knew that Bontzye Shweig was coming.
Abraham, our father, stood in the gate, his right hand stretched out
with a hearty greeting, and a sweet smile lit up his old face.
What are they wheeling through heaven?
Two angels are pushing a golden arm-chair into Paradise for Bontzye
Shweig.
What flashed so brightly?
They were carrying past a gold crown set with precious stones--all for
Bontzye Shweig.
"Before the decision of the Heavenly Court has been given?" ask the
saints, not quite without jealousy.
"O," reply the angels, "that will be a mere formality. Even the
prosecutor won't say a word against Bontzye Shweig. The case will not
last five minutes."
Just consider: Bontzye Shweig!
* * * * *
When the little angels had met Bontzye in mid-air and played him a tune;
when Abraham, our father, had shaken him by the hand like an old
comrade; when he heard that a chair stood waiting for him in Paradise,
that a crown lay ready for his head; and that not a word would be lost
over his case before the Heavenly Court--Bontzye, just as in the other
world, was too frightened to speak. His heart sank with terror. He is
sure it is all a dream, or else simply a mistake.
He is used to both. He often dreamt, in the other world, that he was
picking up money off the floor--there were whole heaps of it--and then
he woke to find himself as poor as ever; and more than once people had
smiled at him and given him a friendly word and then turned away and
spit out.
"It is my luck," he used to think. And now he dared not raise his eyes,
lest the dream should vanish, lest he should wake up in some cave full
of snakes and lizards. He was afraid to speak, afraid to move, lest he
should be recognized and flung into the pit.
He trembles and does not hear the angels' compliments, does not see how
they dance round him, makes no answer to the greeting of Abraham, our
father, and--when he is led into the presence of the Heavenly Court, he
does not even wish it "good morning!"
He is beside himself with terror, and his fright increases when he
happens to notice the floor of the Heavenly Courthouse; it is all
alabaster set with diamonds. "And my feet standing on it!" He is
paralyzed. "Who knows what rich man, what rabbi, what saint they take me
for--he will come--and that will be the end of me!"
His terror is such, he never even hears the president call out: "The
case of Bontzye Shweig!" adding, as he hands the deeds to the advocate,
"Read, but make haste!"
The whole hall goes round and round in Bontzye's eyes, there is a
rushing in his ears. And through the rushing he hears more and more
clearly the voice of the advocate, speaking sweetly as a violin.
"His name," he hears, "fitted him like the dress made for a slender
figure by the hand of an artist-tailor."
"What is he talking about?" wondered Bontzye, and he heard an impatient
voice break in with:
"No similes, please!"
"He never," continued the advocate, "was heard to complain of either God
or man; there was never a flash of hatred in his eye; he never lifted it
with a claim on heaven."
Still Bontzye does not understand, and once again the hard voice
interrupts: "No rhetoric, please!"
"Job gave way--this one was more unfortunate--"
"Facts, dry facts!"
"When he was a week old, he was circumcised...."
"We want no realism!"
"The Mohel who circumcised him did not know his work--"
"Come, come!"
"And he kept silent," the advocate went on, "even when his mother died,
and he was given a step-mother at thirteen years old--a serpent, a
vixen."
"Can they mean me after all?" thought Bontzye.
"No insinuations against a third party!" said the president, angrily.
"She grudged him every mouthful--stale, mouldy bread, tendons instead of
meat--and _she_ drank coffee with cream."
"Keep to the subject," ordered the president.
"She grudged him everything but her finger nails, and his black-and-blue
body showed through the holes in his torn and fusty clothes. Winter
time, in the hardest frost, he had to chop wood for her, barefoot, in
the yard, and his hands were too young and too weak, the logs too thick,
the hatchet too blunt. More than once he nearly dislocated his wrist;
more than once his feet were nearly frost-bitten, but he kept silent,
even to his father."
"To that drunkard?" laughs the accuser, and Bontzye feels cold in every
limb.
"He never even complained to his father," finished up the advocate.
"And always alone," he continued, "no playmates, no school, nor teaching
of any kind--never a whole garment--never a free moment."
"Facts, please!" reminded the president.
"He kept silent even later, when his father seized him by the hair in a
fit of drunkenness, and flung him out into the street on a snowy
winter's night. He quietly picked himself up out of the snow and ran
whither his feet carried him.
"He kept silent all the way--however hungry he might be, he only begged
with his eyes.
"It was a wild, wet night in spring time, when he reached the great
town; he fell like a drop into the ocean, and yet he passed that same
night under arrest. He kept silent and never asked why, for what. He was
let out, and looked about for the hardest work. And he kept silent.
Harder than the work itself was the finding of it--and he kept silent.
"Bathed in a cold sweat, crushed together under heavy loads, his empty
stomach convulsed with hunger--he kept silent.
"Bespattered with mud, spat at, driven with his load off the pavement
and into the street among the cabs, carts, and tramways, looking death
in the eyes every moment--he kept silent.
"He never calculated how many pounds' burden go to a groschen, how many
times he fell on an errand worth a dreier; how many times he nearly
panted out his soul going after his pay; he never calculated the
difference between other people's lot and his--he kept silent.
"And he never insisted loudly on his pay; he stood in the door-way like
a beggar, with a dog-like pleading in his eyes--Come again later! and he
went like a shadow to come again later, and beg for his wage more humbly
than before.
"He kept silent even when they cheated him of part, or threw in a false
coin.
"He took everything in silence."
"They mean me after all," thought Bontzye.
* * * * *
"Once," continued the advocate, after a sip of water, "a change came
into his life: there came flying along a carriage on rubber tires drawn
by two runaway horses. The driver already lay some distance off on the
pavement with a cracked skull. The terrified horses foamed at the mouth,
sparks shot from their hoofs, their eyes shone like fiery lamps on a
winter's night--and in the carriage, more dead than alive, sat a man.
"And Bontzye stopped the horses. And the man he had saved was a
charitable Jew, who was not ungrateful.
"He put the dead man's whip into Bontzye's hands, and Bontzye became a
coachman. More than that--he was provided with a wife, and more
still--with a child.
"And Bontzye kept silent!"
"Me, they mean me!" Bontzye assured himself again, and yet had not the
courage to give a glance at the Heavenly Court.
He listens to the advocate further:
"He kept silent also when his protector became bankrupt and did not pay
him his wages.
"He kept silent when his wife ran away from him, leaving him a child at
the breast.
"He was silent also fifteen years later, when the child had grown up and
was strong enough to throw him out of the house."
"Me, they mean me!" Now he is sure of it.
"He kept silent even," began the angelic advocate once more in a still
softer and sadder voice, "when the same philanthropist paid all his
creditors their due but him--and even when (riding once again in a
carriage with rubber tires and fiery horses) he knocked Bontzye down and
drove over him.
"He kept silent. He did not even tell the police who had done for him."
* * * * *
"He kept silent even in the hospital, where one may cry out.
"He kept silent when the doctor would not come to his bedside without
being paid fifteen kopeks, and when the attendant demanded another
five--for changing his linen.
"He kept silent in the death-struggle--silent in death.
"Not a word against God; not a word against men!
"_Dixi!_"
* * * * *
Once more Bontzye trembled all over, he knew that after the advocate
comes the prosecutor. Who knows what _he_ will say?
Bontzye himself had remembered nothing of his life.
Even in the other world he forgot every moment what had happened in the
one before. The advocate had recalled everything to his mind. Who knows
what the prosecutor will not remind him of?
"Gentlemen," begins the prosecutor, in a voice biting and acid as
vinegar--but he breaks off.
"Gentlemen," he begins again, but his voice is milder, and a second time
he breaks off.
Then, from out the same throat, comes in a voice that is almost gentle:
"Gentlemen! _He_ was silent! I will be silent, too!"
There is a hush--and there sounds in front a new, soft, trembling voice:
"Bontzye, my child," it speaks like a harp, "my dear child Bontzye!"
And Bontzye's heart melts within him. Now he would lift up his eyes, but
they are blinded with tears; he never felt such sweet emotion before.
"My child!" "My Bontzye!"--no one, since his mother died, had spoken to
him with such words in such a voice.
"My child," continued the presiding judge, "you have suffered and kept
silent; there is no whole limb, no whole bone in your body, without a
scar, without a wound, not a fibre of your soul that has not bled--and
you kept silent.
"There they did not understand. Perhaps you yourself did not know that
you might have cried out, and that at your cry the walls of Jericho
would have shaken and fallen. You yourself knew nothing of your hidden
power.
"In the other world your silence was not understood, but _that_ is the
world of delusion; in the world of truth you will receive your reward.
"The Heavenly Court will not judge you; the Heavenly Court will not pass
sentence on you; they will not apportion you a reward. Take what you
will! Everything is yours!"
Bontzye looks up for the first time. He is dazzled; everything shines
and flashes and streams with light.
"_Taki?_" he asks shyly.
"Yes, really!" answers the presiding judge with decision; "really, I
tell you, everything is yours; everything in heaven belongs to you.
Because all that shines and sparkles is only the reflection of your
hidden goodness, a reflection of your soul. You only take of what is
yours."
"_Taki?_" asks Bontzye again, this time in a firmer voice.
"_Taki! taki! taki!_" they answer him from all sides.
"Well, if it is so," Bontzye smiles, "I would like to have every day,
for breakfast, a hot roll with fresh butter."
The Court and the angels looked down, a little ashamed; the prosecutor
laughed.
'Lanigan's Rabbi' is a short-lived American crime drama series that aired
on NBC during the first half of 1977.
Based upon a series of novels by Harry
Kemelman, the series starred Art Carney as Police Chief Paul Lanigan, who fights
crime in a small California town with the help of his best friend, Rabbi David
Small (Bruce Solomon). Small's ability in this area was attributed to his
"rabbinic mind", and his Talmudic training. However, an added element for the
David Small novels and the 'Lanigan's Rabbi' series was that Small was usually
trying to balance his crime-solving assistance to Chief Lanigan with synagogue
politics, usually involving some congregants who would be happy to see the rabbi
lose his position. Co-starring in the series was Janis Paige and Janet Margolin
as Mrs. Lanigan and Mrs. Small, respectively. Another regular on the series was
Carney's daughter, Barbara Carney.
After a successful pilot film based on
"Friday the Rabbi Slept Late", the first novel in the Rabbi David Small series,
aired in 1976, 'Lanigan's Rabbi' was produced as a series of 90-minute telefilms
beginning in January 1977. For the series, Bruce Solomon replaced Stuart
Margolin, who had played Rabbi Small in the pilot. The series was broadcast on a
rotating schedule under the umbrella title 'NBC Sunday Mystery Movie'. Other
series involved in the scheme were 'Columbo', 'McCloud', and 'McMillan'
(formerly 'McMillan & Wife').
'Lanigan's Rabbi' was the last series added to the 'Mystery Movie' format
(it replaced 'Quincy, M.E.' at mid-season when that series was spun off into a
weekly program); in the spring, NBC cancelled all four series and discontinued
the 'Mystery Movie' format. As a result, only four 'Lanigan's Rabbi' episodes
were broadcast.
The Rabbi Small series began in 1964 with the publication of
"Friday the Rabbi Slept Late", which became a huge bestseller, a difficult
achievement for a religious mystery, and won Kemelman a 1965 Edgar Award for
Best First Novel. The Rabbi Small books are not only mysteries, but also
considerations of Conservative Judaism.
Friday the Rabbi Slept Late –
1964
Saturday the Rabbi Went Hungry – 1966
Sunday, the Rabbi Stayed Home –
1969
Monday The Rabbi Took Off – 1972
Tuesday the Rabbi Saw Red –
1973
Wednesday the Rabbi Got Wet – 1976
Thursday the Rabbi Walked Out –
1978
Conversations with Rabbi Small – 1981
Someday the Rabbi Will Leave –
1985
One Fine Day the Rabbi Bought a Cross – 1987
The Day the Rabbi
Resigned – 1992
That Day the Rabbi Left Town – 1996
Although Bruce Solomon is the recastaway as Rabbi Small, he still gets to
be in the main Toobworld since he was the star of the series. Stuart Margolin
as Rabbi Small ends up in that TV dimension in which another Art Carney
character can be found - the original broadcast of "The Incredible World Of
Horace Ford" on 'Westinghouse Studio One'.
As the Trickster once said, "Reality is boring, that's why I change it whenever I can."
I'm just "The Man Who Viewed Too Much", and "Inner Toob" is a blog exploring and celebrating the 'reality' of an alternate universe in which everything that ever happened on TV actually takes place.
Most of my theories about the TV Universe come from thinking inside the box and thus can't be proven. But I've never been one to shy away from a tall tale.....
Remember: "The more you watch, the more you've seen!"
