The Grand Panjandrum has spoken

While I do love Los Angeles and consider it to be my beloved adopted home, I will always have a special place in my heart for the strange customs and traditions of my homeland Silicon Valley. One such tradition is San Jose State University’s annual Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest, named in honor of Edward George Bulwer-Lytton, author of the immortal (if you’re Snoopy) words:

“It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents–except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.”

The words above are considered bad by those people who know about such things (I personally think they were just ahead of their time), and thus the Bulwer-Lytton prize is given to the person who writes the first sentence to the world’s worst novel. This is not to be confused with the world’s worst first sentence to a novel, though information on the contest is not completely consistent on this point. Anyway, the top prizes normally go to a very complicated and flowery compound sentence, and this year’s winning sentence by David McKenzie is no exception:

“Folks say that if you listen real close at the height of the full moon, when the wind is blowin’ off Nantucket Sound from the nor’ east and the dogs are howlin’ for no earthly reason, you can hear the awful screams of the crew of the “Ellie May,” a sturdy whaler Captained by John McTavish; for it was on just such a night when the rum was flowin’ and, Davey Jones be damned, big John brought his men on deck for the first of several screaming contests.”

My personal favorite this year, however, doesn’t follow the rules. Interestingly enough, it was penned by Tony Alfieri from… Los Angeles:

“In a flurry of flame and fur, fangs and wicker, thus ended the world’s first and only hot air baboon ride.”

Nicely done, Tony. I know LA’s a big city, but I have a feeling we might be neighbors.

Technical difficulties

While it’s true that:

1. the Fancy Notions Audio-Visual Archives was flooded this weekend, and
2. my most recent post is not showing up on the main page,

I think that we are just encountering minor technological hiccups rather than any sort of sabotage. Have no fear; all salvageable 16mm film has been put out to dry and I’ll get to the bottom of the disappearing post issue as well. The latter may be the simple issue of not linking to another site that uses swear words.

Please stand by.

UPDATE: Ha! The post just got stuck in a time-warp and traveled back ten days. It’s now up for your enjoyment directly below.

A man’s castle

Once there was a boy who grew up in a family of performers. The boy’s father was a very hard taskmaster and made sure all of the children became excellent dancers and music makers. At a certain point in his life, the boy lived in a tremendous castle in southern California, and on the grounds of the castle were bridges and waterfalls and wishing wells and all sorts of magical things. Then the boy didn’t live there any more. But it was okay. The boy grew up and continued to make more music to even greater acclaim and he lived happily ever after.

Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to little Alex Koren:

What – were you expecting someone else? I said happily ever after.

Go where you’re looking

The big trip

“Well, I think you could retire when you die. I don’t, however, believe in death, so I guess I will retire when I leave my body. But I plan to continue writing and performing in heaven.”

- Sky Sunlight Saxon March 2009

I hope there wasn’t too much of a line to get in to Heaven today, Sky. If there was, I’m sure you managed to write at least three songs while you were waiting.

King of the dogs

I know I said I wasn’t going to make any more posts about King George of Hollywood, because his paranoid flyer-posting antics

were getting kind of dull. He was watching too many action movies or something and it was affecting his own story line. Also, I saw him cross the street one day and he was a very ordinary-looking homeless fellow with a “King George” nametag, not some character in a cape and a crown like I had been expecting. Not even a cravat. It was all such a letdown from my perception of him in the days of his missives to daughter Christina Aguilera and sister Liza Minnelli. Recently, however, he caught my eye again when he turned to a more direct approach in his pleas for help:

I can respect that. Maybe I should make a sign for myself like that – “GIVE ELIZABETH MONEY”. Who knows? It could work. But that’s not why I decided to focus on King George again today. I decided to focus on King George today because it has become clear to me that George has the power to change form at will. I’m serious:

I now think what happened in this sordid tale is that George ran away from home and turned into human form in order to better roam the streets of Hollywood and post flyers decrying his plight. I just don’t know why it took so long for his owners to post notices that he was lost. Go back home, George. If you just ask them, I’m sure your owners will give you all the money you need.

Free wheeled, well tempered

Actually, I don’t know if the bicycle that Frank Zappa played on the Steve Allen Show was tuned using just intonation or equal temperament. And I don’t really care.

Word of the day for Tuesday, June 23rd

The kids these days – them with their iPhones and their Jay-Zee and their Special K and L wire and Mmmbop and … (ten minutes later) … and their xBoxes and Youtubes and their… oh, I tell you. They just don’t know what fun is. They don’t know the joy of a simple

You know – a sneerag. A child’s toy, made of the larger bone of a pig’s foot and two worsted strings, and worked so as to give a snoring sound.* What I wouldn’t give for a good sneerag right about now. Hours of fun.

* Thanks for the information, Alexander Warrack and your Scots Dialectic Dictionary via the Obsolete Word of the Day archives.

Fancy notions #13

I’m happy to hear that the last pack of fancy notions has made it to its new home, and that means it must be time for some more fancy notions. What do we have today?

Four suspender clips for making your own suspenders, a length of snowy-white pompons long enough to make a choker, but with one pompon missing, and a very small baby doll. I like to call the baby doll Ballad of a Thin Man, because I know something’s happening with the fabric on his legs, but I don’t know what it is.

Do you, Mr. Jones? If you do, and you want to have this baby and the other items pictured above for your very own, let me know in the comments section. The first or most sincere plea for the notions gets ‘em. Today’s fancy notion offering is a little different in that you have two choices:

1. They are absolutely free to the person who writes first or most sincerely about his/her desire for them, but the package will not include the perspective quarter; OR
2. you may have the perspective quarter included in the package, but the package will cost you 25 cents. I will accept payment via PayPal if that is your choice.

Good luck!

Lickety split

There’s this site called Everlasting Blort that consistently finds amazing things and just presents them without comment. I am kind of in awe of them, because I am obviously unable to do this. Here’s something Madame Jujujive of said site found and shared recently:

I’m speechless, but I have to tell you all I’m speechless. You’re a greater blog than I, Everlasting Blort.