FRIDAY ANTICS

Give the BushCheneySloganator a try: "It's unpredictable / I hope you have the time of your life."

If you've heard this joke before (and even if you haven't), forgive us:

George W. Bush, Albert Einstein and Pablo Picasso have all died. They arrive at the Pearly Gates more or less simultaneously.

Einstein is the first to present himself to Saint Peter, who asks him, "Can you prove who you really are?" Einstein proceeds to describe his general theory of relativity with arcane mathematical symbols. Saint Peter is suitably impressed. "You really are Einstein! Welcome to heaven!" he says.

Just then Picasso arrives. Saint Peter asks for proof that Picasso is the great artist he's heard so much about. Picasso proceeds to sketch out a truly stunning mural of bulls, satyrs and nude women with a few strokes of chalk. Saint Peter claps. "Surely you are the great artist you claim to be! Come on in!" he says.

They're still standing at the Pearly Gates when George W. Bush appears. Saint Peter says, "Einstein and Picasso easily proved their identities. How can you prove yours?" Looking bewildered, George says, "Who are Einstein and Picasso?" Saint Peter shakes his head and smiles. "Come on in, George."

April 30, 2004 9:32 AM |

Categories:

Me Elsewhere

'WILD SIDE' STILL ROCKS 

Nelson Algren was one of the great American authors of the 20th century, it is no exaggeration to say, and among the most neglected. Consider his underrated classic, "A Walk on the Wild Side." The title -- popularized and co-opted as an idiomatic phrase by Hollywood and Madison Avenue (institutions Algren loathed) -- is familiar to most anyone who speaks English or knows Lou Reed's lyrics. But the novel itself? Hardly.

BUSTER KEATON REVISITED 
Buster Keaton: Tempest in a Flat Hat is not a biography. "This book is merely a fan's notes," Edward McPherson writes in the introduction, although his publisher ignores the disclaimer and calls it a biography on the cover. In fact, the book is a bit of both, a difficult combination to bring off unless you're David Thomson, who set the standard with Rosebud, his penetrating rumination on the life and career of Orson Welles, which was nothing if not a distillation of every obsessive thought he ever had about the myth and the man and all his movies.
LAUREN BACALL, STILL SALTY AT 80 
When Lauren Bacall writes that her singing voice ranges "somewhere between B minus sharp and outer space," she's being candid and funny. It's not every stage star with two Tony Awards for best actress in a musical whose vocal talent offers so little promise. (OK, Harvey Fierstein excepted.) Still less would one admit it.
THE STARS ACCORDING TO BOGDANOVICH 
Peter Bogdanovich's superb collection of movie-star profiles and interviews -- a sequel to Who the Devil Made It, his interviews of top film directors -- begins with an affectionate tale about Orson Welles that reminds us just how intimate the author's connection to Hollywood's greatest has been. But contrary to what we've come to expect from dime-a-dozen celebrities and celebrity interviews not worth two cents, the tale avoids bromidic egotism and journalistic platitudes.
SAMMY'S WHITE DREAMS 
Four decades ago Lenny Bruce sentenced Sammy Davis Jr. to "30 years in Biloxi," stripping him of "his Jewish star" and "his religious statue of Elizabeth Taylor." Now we have two new biographies of Davis that spring him from ridicule, if not from doubts about his legacy, and restore a measure of dignity to a black entertainer whose huge fame and success never overcame his devout wish -- indeed his lifelong effort -- to be white.
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This page contains a single entry by CriticalMASS published on April 30, 2004 9:32 AM.

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