Tim Conway , Harvey Korman, Liar's Club, Star Wars Holiday Special
We thought Harvey was in this one. He isn't, but it's too good to pass up:
Harvey Korman and Danny Kaye:
Star Wars Holiday Special
Occasional quotes from blogs, news, movies, books, overheard conversations
defender of fame-whores
Hater of New Blogger--thanks for nothing, Google
Still not sure what this blog is about, but whatever it IS about it's done well - XWL
"That Bill. Subversive. Sharp. Watch out for him. Misses nothing. A dots-connector." - reader_iam
Bill -- you have just won yourself a WGA-arbitrated credit
But, Spike being Spike, he wasn't finished yet, and saved his most savage (and accurate!) critique for Mr. Eastwood. Here goes:
"Clint Eastwood made two films about Iwo Jima that ran for more than four hours total and there was not one Negro actor on the screen. If you reporters had any balls you'd ask him why. There's no way I know why he did that -- that was his vision, not mine. But I know it was pointed out to him and that he could have changed it. It's not like he didn't know."
Amen, brother. I really had no time at all beyond the performance of Adam Beach for Clint's "Flags of Our Fathers," but I really liked "Letters from Iwo Jima" quite a bit. That said, Spike is right, and I'm happy someone has the huevos to point it out in such a significant forum.
My father's father (again, if I was a DEM, I'd probably mention he was my 'black' grandfather) already was a policeman here in Santa Monica (mostly did just traffic cop duties before the war), and was sent to the Pacific. Black troops weren't frontline troops, for the most part, which is one reason why Spike Lee's complaints about Flags of Our Fathers was kind of silly. But, my grandfather was at Iwo Jima, to clean up, identify the dead, bury the bodies, and type the notification letters. An unimaginably crappy duty, but according to my father, my grandfather preferred that to the frontline. Better to deal with the dead, then risk being one of them. One reason why I'll never question Truman's decision to drop the A-Bomb on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Japan was prepared to fight a war of attrition to the last man, woman, and child,
"We have designed our own educational system, and it works. I though of it myself after I visited the United States in 1910 and watched a game of baseball.
"What you call the pitchers were practicing along the sidelines. Well, being a man of science, I leaned over the rail and asked, 'Do you always practice with the same-sized ball?' In fact, they did, or at least they said they did. 'Why?' I inquired. 'Why not?' they inquired back.
"I then told them that it was obvious in regard to physics and physiology that they would enormously improve their performance if they practiced with balls of radically different sizes -- a pea-sized pebble on the one hand, and a soccer ball on the other . The difficulties and exertions of doing so would make them champions with a ball tailored for the fist and of the proper weight and density for throwing.
"I don't know if they followed my system, but we do, as you shall see."
My first task, dictated by Father Bromeus for reasons that he would not disclose but that later appeared quite obvious, was to memorize the telephone directory of Zurich. To this day I can recall names and numbers that are no longer associated and that are forever lost, but that once made the hearts of boys and girls race as they saw on the page a code that would bring them, by voice and ear, to the houses of their overlords.
The object of Father Bromeus was to train my mind to take in information. This was the French half of the education I received at Chateau Parfilage. I can still tell you that the atomic weight of cobalt is 58.93, that the altitude of the railroad station at Neuchatel is 482 meters, that Shakespeare used the word glory 94 times, that the Italian word for dipthong is dittongo, that (though I cannot tell you who invented the pickle) Johann Georg Pickel invented the gas lamp in 1786, and that Roberts captured Bloemfontein on March 13, 1900, though Bloemfontein was never able to capture Roberts.
Father Bromeus presented me with so many tables, lists, texts, photographs, paintings, and musical compositions to memorize that I spent hours and hours a day on it. Soon I had mastered rapid apprehension and assimilation of virtually any material, never to be forgotten unless I deliberately banished it. Only later would the next test come, which was just as shocking as suddenly being presented with the Zurich telephone book. This was the task of analysis, which, with Jesuitical discipline, Father Bromeus divided up into interpolation, extrapolation, induction, reduction, and deduction.
When I had started upon these things, I was examined. "I have learned from Father Bromeus," the rector said, "that you have at your command the information necessary to tell me how you would, from this location, kill all the grasshoppers in Paris."
"I beg your pardon, sir"? I asked, never having been forced to this kind of thought.
Because I was not allowed to employ anyone in Paris or use the railroads to ship tens of thousands of birds and bats to the City of Light, I had to design and manufacture a huge cannon. This involved everything I had learned about physics, metallurgy, chemistry, geometry, and geology (I had to mine my own metals, make my own tools, build my own buildings). Unfortunately, to get the grasshoppers, I had to destroy the whole city. My answer was only hypothetical. How was I to know that it would be the underlying logic of the rest of the twentieth century?
Every day, the rector would present such a problem -- sometimes purely scientific, sometimes technological, poetic, historical, political, or aesthetic, and often a combination of several of these. His queries were always interesting and often ingenious. Even when they were fruitless, the many frustrating approaches that we followed toward their unobtainable solution made such problems immensely entertaining. He might say, "You are to write a sonnet after Shakespeare, in French, using the rules of Italian prosody," or he might drop me into the forests of northern Canada and instruct me (all in theory, of course) to survive the winter and construct a coliseum of snow and walrus bones.
Where I erred, he corrected; when I was lost, he showed me the beginning of the way. My favorite problems were the short imperatives: "Solve the problems of Revolutionary France." (First I had to figure out what they were.) "Design an electrical machine for the flawless generation of music." This I did, in theory, and many years later in Brazil I encountered what are called synthesizers, and I smiled. "Develop the economy of Egypt." I had a good plan: they didn;t follow it. "Tell me what this is," he would say, handing me a flask of goo. Having committed to memory many of the techniques of qualitative and quantitative analysis, I would return in a few days with a list of components in their absolute and proportionate quantities.
All this while doing hard labor in fields, rising at five, climbing ice-clad peaks, and cutting and hauling firewood. As if to confirm that life is the academy of fate, the only question he asked more than once was, as usual, in the form of a command. In fact, he presented me with the same challenge four or five times, and each time I took a few days to make an intricate plan. His exhortation was, "Rob the Bank of England."
American and British historians have expended immense energy in recent years arguing the issue of whether the German soldier was superior to his Allied counterpart. To all save the most dogged nationalists, it must be plain that Hitler's armies performed far more professionally and fought with much greater determination than Eisenhower's men. Allied generals were constantly hampered by the fact that, even when they advanced bold and imaginative plans, these were often incapable of execution by conscientious but never fanatical civilian soldiers, opposed by the most professionally skilful army of modern times. Yet it seems wrong to leave the matter there. There is a vital corollary. If American and British soldiers had been imbued with the ethos which enabled Hitler's soldiers to do what they did, the purpose for which the war was being fought would have been set at naught. All soldiers are in some measure brutalized by the experience of conflict. Some lapses and breaches of humanity on the part of Allied soldiers are recorded in these pages. To an impressive degree, however, the American and British armies preserved in battle the values and decencies, the civilized inhibitions of their societies. It seems appropriate for an historian to offer military judgements upon the failures and shortcomings of the Allies in 1944-45, which were many and various. But there is every reason to cherish and to respect the values that prevaded Eisenhower's armies.
Many individual German soldiers were likewise unwilling warriors, men born and raised with the same instinctive humanity as their Allied counterparts. But they fought within the framework of an army which was institutionally brutalized. Hitler and his generals demanded of Germany's soldiers, on pain of savage punishment, far more than the Western allies expected from their men. American and British officers knew that their citizen soldiers were attempting to fulfil tasks which ran profoundly against the grain of their societies' culture. The Germans and Russians in the Second World War showed themselves better warriors, but worse human beings. This is not a cultural conceit, but a moral truth of the utmost importance to understanding what took place on the battlefield.
Such observations lead in turn, however, to a consideration which might dissuade the democracies from celebrating their own humanity too extravagantly. Western allied scruples made the Americans and British dependent upon the ferocity of their Soviet allies to do the main business of destroying Hitler's armies. If the Russians had not accepted the casualties necessary to inflict a war-winning level of attrition on the Werhmacht, the Western allies would have had to pay a far higher price, and the struggle would have continued for much longer.
The French military contribution was small, and almost entirely symbolic. Their formations suffered chronic problems of indiscipline -- indeed, French colonial units in Italy and later Germany were sometimes responsible for mass rapes on a Russian scale.
andrew antonia bad being bitch challenge chef competition dale doesn't edited enjoy enough episode everyone exactly fair food going groom guy immunity instead jt judges liked lisa lose mark past people performed personality play pm post really richard roll sabotage seems since someone spike team think top week win work
andrew away blais blog bravo challenge changed chef circuits compute contestant cook different dining dish doesn't editing finale food freaked gastronomy harold interested interview marcel meet molecular open past people pleasure popping prize pull realized really restaurant richard room se season seems space springs sure think top totally won wonder
agree antonia asian being better challenge chef comments conspiracy cooking cuisine dale different dish dragged edited enough episode fact flavors followed food gets happy imo jenn judges lisa making matter people personality reality richard season shocking similar since someone something spike stephanie te think today types winner winning work yesterday
agree antonia becoming beginning being best better bit bottom carmelized challenge chef competition contest cook correct dale deviled dish egg elimination episode feeling finale gets group hope idea lee less lot love past person pretty quickfire really richard rooting season seems shrimp stephanie sure te things think top win worry
agree andrew antonia attitude bad being best bitch canned challenge chefs comment contestant dale dish doesn't dra editors either episode flavor food going gone hair hard improv judges lisa nasty negative night people person polish probably problem really rules sausage seems seen shrimp someone stephanie think tom tv understand work
agressive antonia bad being better betty bottom case challenge chef concept cook decision dish edited feel film food going handled heh idea immunity insisted judges knew lisa love mind ne passive personality plates prepared really season seems seen something soup spike stephanie te temates think valerie wants work wrong zoi
...because all three times I could see pink meat where it was woefully undercooked, a severe health risk (parasites in pig flesh) as well as flat-out cosmetically grossing one out. Going there a Tuesday night, a Thursday night, and a Saturday afternoon late over a period of months, each time we were served undercooked BBQ that had pink in it, and was so full of huge unchewable pieces of undercooked fat globules that it made it even further impossible to eat.
Uncooked garbage was banned as pork feed in 1980, and since then the incidence of trichinosis in the United States has declined to fewer than ten cases annually. Most of these are not from pork, but from such game meats as bear, boar, and walrus.
For many years it was recommended that pork be cooked past well done to ensure the elimination of trichnae. It's now known that a temperature of 137F/58C a medium doneness, is sufficient to kill the parasite in meat; aiming for 150F/65C gives reasonable safety margin. Trichinae can also be eliminated by frozen storage for a period of at least 20 days at or lower than 5F/-15C.
...barbeques meat, stew meat, a pot roast, or a confit can be surprisingly pink or read inside -- if it was heated very gradually and gently....Meats cooked over wood, charcoal, or gas flames -- barbecued pork or beef, for example, or even poultry cooked in a gas oven -- often develop "pink ring..."
I also stole some time to finally make our foie gras bonbons again. I made a fig, bourbon, and foie gras mousse; let it chill overnight; roll the mousse into little balls and briefly freeze 'em; take some of our Port caramel sauce (that we use for our chocolate moltens) and dip the frozen foie mousse balls in the caramel, setting them on foil; refrigerate that so the caramel starts to harden -- 20-30 minutes; temper evil dark chocolate -- this time the Extreme 85% from Chatelain's; dip the caramel-coated foie balls in the chocolate using the tines of a fork to gently roll 'em around to cover. As you can see, it's a bit of an undertaking -- nothing too difficult, but each step takes careful planning and fairly exact temperature manipulations. The result is something that's quite decadent, and the good news is I can make one more batch sometime this weekend!
When I presented the bonbons as the amuse bouche for our 7 course foie dinner in Oct-Nov 2006, I had a single black truffle that I zested on my microplaner and blended with cocoa powder to turn 'em into literal truffled truffles. The bonbons are best at room temperature because the foie gras mouse softens inside and gets silky and creamy as the butter in the mousse relaxes. The flavors melt off in layers as you eat it, and it's pure sensual overload without apology.
Taking the workshop, which Ms. Barry teaches several times a year, is a bit like witnessing an endurance-performance piece. Aided by her assistant, Betty Bong (in reality, Kelly Hogan, a torch singer who lives in Chicago), Ms. Barry sings, tells jokes, acts out characters and even dances a creditably sensual hula, all while keeping up an apparently extemporaneous patter on subjects like brain science, her early boy-craziness, her admiration for Jimmy Carter and the joys of menopause.
But this is just camouflage for the workshop’s true purpose: to pass on an art-making method that Ms. Barry learned from Marilyn Frasca, her junior- and senior-year art teacher at Evergreen State College in Olympia, Wash.
It involves using a random word, like “cars” or “breasts,” to summon a memory in unexpected, filmic detail; writing about it by hand for a set time period (as she says, “Limitation creates structure!”); and then not reading it or talking about it for at least a week. Within the workshop it also involves positive feedback. As students read aloud, Ms. Barry kneels before them, head bowed, listening intently, and says: “Good! Good!” (“I was a kid who was never read to,” she explains.)
This is essentially the method that Ms. Barry has always used, not just for “Ernie Pook” but also her novels: “The Good Times Are Killing Me” from 1988, about biracial childhood friends, and “Cruddy” (1999), whose 16-year-old narrator recounts a long-ago murder rampage. She also deployed it for “One! Hundred! Demons!,” a soulful 2002 graphic memoir that she describes as “autobifictionalography.”
“What It Is,” which outlines the method in detail, could be considered a picture book for grown-ups. Using ink brush, pen and pencil drawings as well as collages and luminous watercolors, many of them on lined yellow legal paper, it explores deep philosophical questions like “What Is an Image?” (The answer, Ms. Barry says, is something “at the center of everything we call the arts.”) It also includes an activity book, instructions, assignments and several passages of purely autobiographical writing and drawing in which Ms. Barry recounts her own journey to making art.
Richard Blais. Previously mentioned many times, I'm a Richard Blais fan. The rested of the soquoted household are Richard Blais fans. The only reason we're watching the show in the first place is because of Richard Blais. And it's been fun watching him turn out food that mystifies and delights. Other than a minor misstep with the eucalyptus and a major misstep with the fish scales, he's been amazingly consistentin landing in the top group in ten out of the sixteen challenges. He's taken the lead, worked in support, worked a variety of styles, comes across as enthusiastic about the food and looks to have the respect of the other chefs and the judges. He's the obvious and consensus frontrunner and based on frequently Bravo uses him in the talking head segments I fear they're setting him up to be upset. I fully expect Colicchio to say "This is good, but we expect better from you," while Nikki escapes with another bland pasta dish.
Dale Talde. He's fought his way up the rankings. Again, reading around the various boards and sites, Richard and Dale are seen as the predominant favorites. Off to a slow start, Dale has put together a great run of inventive food that looks great. He's worked a variety of skills and cooking styles and is shown to be a good teammate. He's had a few outbursts, but they've occurred backstage. I always want to see how he'll approach a challenge.
Stephanie. Oh, Stephanie, what's wrong? One of my early favorites, she's landed solidly in the bottom group for three straight challenges. I still think she's one of the strongest chefs here, though I'm beginning to feel the competition just doesn't match her talents. I expect her food to look good and taste good, so when it doesn't I am shocked.
Andrew. While Andrew has dropped a bit in my personal rankings, I've come to like him more as a person. Despite the editing highlighting his twitchy McTwitchiness, he's also been shown as a valued teammate and very respectful of criticism. Though he's solidly in the middle of the pack, he's also the most inventive of that pack. He's capable of crashing and burning in the most spectacular way possible and of being good enough to snipe one of the other frontrunners if they falter.
Antonia. She's gone from sixth to third on the misfires of Lisa and Stephanie. Last week's double win in no way demontrated she's one of the top chefs on the show. I can't think of a single thing she's done that's impressed me. Also has a bad attitude and a case od the snobs.
Lisa. She has a three week slide that equals Stephanie's. While I think Stephanie's is an aberration, Lisa's is a more accurate reflection. She's hung around with so-so dishes and her one win is completely due to the judges not knowing how little she actually contributed. Less impressive than Antonia with a worse attitude. Guaranteed to throw anyone else under the bus if given the opportunity.
Nikki. She has an impressive resume, but in recent years she's more of a FOH person than a kitchen person and it shows. She's had some major malfunctions and even her best dishes haven't impressed that much; other than week 1's home-made pasta. On the Bravo site, there's an extra video clip from the Movie Challenge episode that showed Nikki complaining no one wanted to cook with her. I felt a little sorry for her. If this was "Top Hotdish" I'd be pulling for her casserole to win. Since it isn't, she's outclassed.
Spike. Nice hat, looks good on you. I'm...just...no. Go home.