Joe Blevins's Blog, page 6

REPOST: A day spent (vicariously) with Tom Lehrer

Tom Lehrer: Mathematician turned singer-songwriter turned mathematician again.

NOTE: Today, we received the sad news that singer, songwriter, and mathematician Tom Lehrer had died at the age of 97. In light of that, I would like to repost an article about Tom that I wrote back in 2012.

Tom Lehrer would scoff at the idea of being anyone's hero. This is part of the reason why he's one of mine.
A native New Yorker born way back in 1928 (one shudders to do the grim calculations here), Lehrer was a child prodigy who graduated magna cum laude from Harvard at the age of 19. Since that time, he has spent most of his career either teaching or lecturing about mathematics at some of America's finest academic institutions, including MIT and the University of California at Santa Cruz. He formally retired in 2001, but he's still listed at the Rate My Professors website with a student review as recent as 2005.

Latter-day LehrerWhat sets Tom Lehrer apart from other mathematicians, apart from his claim of inventing the Jell-O shot, is that he devoted much of his time in the 1950s and 1960s to writing and performing some of the darkest, funniest songs I've ever heard -- deceptively joyous musical theater-type ditties with droll, sardonic lyrics about such topics as sex ("I Got It From Agnes"), drugs ( "The Old Dope Peddler" ), violence ( "The Masochism Tango" ), religion ( "The Vatican Rag" ), death ( "I Hold Your Hand in Mine" ) and war ("So Long, Mom") with a candor that set him far apart from both the singers and the comedians of that era. Today, comedians can joke openly about pornography, incest, cannibalism, bestiality, and necrophilia on prime time network television, but this wasn't true 60 years ago when Tom's records couldn't even be played on the radio during respectable hours.

As with much of the music that now clutters up my brain, the bizarre and sometimes brutal song stylings of Tom Lehrer first entered my life through The Dr. Demento Show. This was back in the 1990s, before the internet was any damned good, and it was difficult to come by information about Tom's life or career back then. I couldn't even find a picture of the guy! I knew instinctively, though, that he wore glasses. Somehow, that was obvious to me. His myopia was audible. 
Despite the apparent rudeness of his lyrics, Mr. Lehrer conducted himself with the utmost decorum onstage, using impeccable Ivy League diction, eclectic and impressive vocabulary, and carefully-curated grammar. On his records, he comes across as man far too smart to take life the least bit seriously. Lerher's musical career occurred during the Cold War when it seemed ever-more-likely that mankind would annihilate itself with increasingly-deadly weapons. This looming apocalypse is the topic of several Lehrer songs, and he treats it the way he treats all other subjects: with an air of detached amusement at the absurdity of it all.

Tom Lehrer's 1953 debutToday, almost two decades after I first heard "Poisoning Pigeons in the Park," (the song that made me a fan) I spent some quality time listening to virtually every Tom Lehrer recording available to the public. That's not a great investment of time, honestly. There are roughly three hours of Lehrer audio in total, nearly all of it consisting of Tom singing solo and accompanying himself on piano. 
His musical output boils down to two brief studio albums (Songs by Tom Lehrer and More of Tom Lehrer), three live albums (Revisited [a.k.a. Tom Lehrer in Concert], An Evening Wasted With Tom Lehrer, and That Was the Week That Was), plus a handful of miscellaneous recordings. He recorded a handful of his most famous songs with a full orchestra, for instance, plus he did a few well-remembered educational songs (like "Silent E" ) for a PBS children's program called The Electric Company. There are a few good CD compilations out there of Lehrer's work, but buyers should know in advance that the same exact songs from the two studio albums are heard on his first two live LPs as well. And I mean, they're note-for-note the same. If you buy the boxed set with his "complete" recordings, be prepared to sit through the same songs two or even three times.

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Ed Wood Wednesdays, week 237: The not-so-endless reaches of time

No matter who you are, time is coming to get you.
Ed Wood died at 54. My colleague Greg Javer, who researched the life and work of Ed Wood, died at 56. My own mother died at 46, her father at 54. I turn 50 in a couple of months. I am acutely aware that my time is rapidly running out. You know the scene in The Wizard of Oz (1939) in which Margaret Hamilton shows Judy Garland a giant hourglass full of red sand?
"Do you see that?" she yells, turning the hourglass upside down. "That's how much longer you've got to be alive, and it isn't long, my pretty! It isn't long!"
Cut to Judy Garland, sobbing in mute horror. That's how I feel right now.
I'm currently working a full-time cubicle job as a clerk at a mortgage company. Most days, I come home from the office feeling like garbage and not wanting to do much of anything. In what spare time I have, mostly nights and weekends, I do a biweekly podcast and maintain this blog. If you're reading this article, you probably think that I only write about Ed Wood. In fact, you may think this entire blog is called "Ed Wood Wednesdays." It isn't, but I've stopped correcting people on that point. 
SIDEBAR: The name of this blog is Dead 2 Rights. "Ed Wood Wednesdays" is a series of articles on that blog, sort of like how Saturday Night Live (1975- ) is a series on NBC. Most weeks, the Ed Wood stuff on D2R isn't even what gets the most clicks. My articles about Fat Albert, What's My Line, and Patience & Prudence consistently outperform Ed. In fact, of the ten most-viewed articles in the entire history of this blog, only two are about Ed Wood. And one of those is the index page .
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Podcast Tuesday: "Frankie Goes to Johnnywood"

Michelle Pfeiffer and Al Pacino in Garry Marshall's Frankie & Johnny.
Director Garry Marshall and playwright Terrence McNally both faced professional challenges in 1991. Garry's challenge was following up the biggest movie of his career, Pretty Woman (1990). Terrence's challenge was taking his humble, two-character play Frankie and Johnny in the Claire de Lune (1987) and expanding it into a major motion picture featuring two enormous stars, Michelle Pfeiffer and Al Pacino.
As it happens, Marshall and McNally were working on the same project: the $29 million Paramount production Frankie & Johnny (1991). Perhaps wary of trying to top Pretty Woman, Marshall opted to tell the humble story of a chef named Johnny (Pacino) and a waitress named Frankie (Pfeiffer) who meet at the New York diner where they both work and embark upon a romantic relationship. Johnny sees Frankie as his soulmate and wants to pursue a serious relationship. Frankie's been hurt before and wants to keep things casual. Who prevails? Have you seen a movie before?
This week on These Days Are Ours: A Happy Days Podcast , we're reviewing Frankie & Johnny. We talk about the film, the play, New York diners, "Love Shack," and many other topics. We'd be very pleased and happy if you'd join us.
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Ed Wood Wednesdays, week 236: Plan 9: The Cemetery Screening (2025)

What's the weirdest place you've ever seen a movie?
Sometimes, the venue in which you see a motion picture can make all the difference. 
A very special screening.I hope I will never forget seeing Citizen Kane (1941) at the magnificent Fox Theatre in Detroit or The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975) at the crumbling Capitol Theatre in Flint. Then there's Chicago's historic Music Box, where I saw The Wizard of Oz (1939), Brand on the Brain (2006), and Inland Empire (2006). Magnificent experiences all. During Inland Empire, the theater was so cold I kept my winter coat on all three hours!
But I can also remember seeing Do the Right Thing (1989) at the long-gone Genesee Valley Cinema in Flint. This was a perfectly ordinary multiplex, but I happened to be there on a night when the air conditioning was on the fritz and the theater was sweltering, allowing us in the audience to experience some of what the characters onscreen were going through. My mother took me to see that film, and we had a long discussion afterwards about the characters and the choices they made.
Occasionally, the venue where you see a movie isn't even a theater at all. My first, transformative viewing of Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975), for instance, took place on a long bus trip to Indiana when I was a teenager. And I vividly remember watching the Suspiria (2018) reboot on an Amtrak train and being absolutely enraptured by it. Somehow, in both of those examples, being in motion made the viewing experience more intense. 
Ed Wood fans in the Los Angeles area have an opportunity later this month to view the director's most famous film in a highly memorable and most appropriate setting. On Saturday, July 26, 2025 at 6:30pm, the San Fernando Valley Historical Society (SFVHS) is hosting a screening of Plan 9 from Outer Space (1957) at the Pioneer Memorial Cemetery in Sylmar, CA. This, in case you didn't know, is the very cemetery where Eddie actually shot some scenes for the film! Director Mark Carducci visited this cemetery for his documentary Flying Saucers Over Hollywood (1992), as did film critic Harry Medved for an episode of his PBS series Locationland (2025). The SFVHS is holding this screening to honor the 100th anniversary of Ed Wood's birth.
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Ed Wood Wednesdays, week 235: "The Mads Are Back: Bride of the Monster" (2022)

Some lovely artwork by Carmen Cerra for Bride of the Monster.
Much like Dracula, Mystery Science Theater 3000 will never die.
Sure, the long-running comedy series seems to be in limbo for now, with no new "official" episodes produced since December 2022. But the comedians and writers who worked on MST3K have launched similar series of their own and are still wisecracking their way through a wide variety of movies and shorts. In 2020, for example, MST3K veterans Trace Beaulieu and Frank Conniff launched a pay-per-view web series called The Mads Are Back. It started as a way for Trace and Frank to continue their touring act during the global pandemic, but they've kept the web series going to this very day, amassing four seasons and half a dozen specials so far.
You'd probably expect the films of Edward D. Wood, Jr. to be a part of any series like this, and, true to form, Beaulieu and Conniff have riffed both Glen or Glenda (1953) and Night of the Ghouls (1959) for The Mads Are Back. I was especially interested in screening those episodes because neither film had ever been covered on MST3K proper. On the other hand, I was aware of the fact that Beaulieu and Conniff had also riffed Ed Wood's Bride of the Monster (1955) in 2022. That movie had already been used on MST3K—way back in January 1993, during the show's fourth season on Comedy Central—so I was not as keen to see Bride of the Monster riffed on The Mads Are Back. I mean, what else is there to say about this film?
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Podcast Tuesday: "Attractive Female"

Richard Gere and Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.
As my cohost and I have made our way through the films of Garry Marshall, I've been reminded time and again of just how different media consumption was in the 1980s and '90s. For one thing, I saw a lot more movies in the theater back then, at least three or four each month. These days, I'll see maybe two or three movies a year on the big screen.
Another big difference was that, in the days before streaming, we were reliant on VHS tapes if we wanted to screen a film at home. Most we rented, a few we owned. This system wasn't all bad. My sister and I had our own VHS copy of Garry Marshall's smash romcom Pretty Woman (1990) and watched it dozens of times. That film simply became part of our consciousness, and we quoted it frequently.
This week on These Days Are Ours: A Happy Days Podcast , we talk about Pretty Woman. The film was extremely popular in its own time, but how does it hold up in ours? Well, click below to find out.
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Ed Wood Wednesdays, week 234: Something Weird Video Catalog #1 (1995-1996)

If you needed some Ed Wood movies in the '90s, SWV could hook you up.
In the 1990s, there was a tremendous resurgence of interest in Edward D. Wood, Jr. and his films, spurred by the release of Rudolph Grey's oral history Nightmare of Ecstasy (1992) and Tim Burton's biopic Ed Wood (1994). Naturally, people wanted to see Eddie's infamous movies for themselves, but the films weren't always easily accessible for on-demand viewing—certainly not to the extent that they are today. This was still the golden age of physical media, so fans were reliant on VHS tapes and, later, DVDs. If you wanted to watch something, you had to own or rent a copy of it.
Wanna watch some weird movies?Numerous companies stepped in to distribute Ed's movies on home video during this time. In the past, I've argued that Los Angeles' Rhino Home Video was the most significant of these companies. Their Ed Wood releases, complete with faux-retro "Ed Wood Collection" stickers, seemed to occupy the most shelf space at retail outlets like Suncoast, Best Buy, and Sam Goody. My personal Ed Wood indoctrination came through Rhino releases, and I'm positive that the first feature-length Wood documentary I ever saw was Rhino's charmingly kitschy Look Back in Angora (1994). So the company has a special place in my heart. This series of articles might not exist without it. 
But, through years of researching this column, I've learned that there was another quirky home video company in the '90s that played a significant role in finding and releasing Ed Wood's movies. I'm referring to Seattle's legendary Something Weird Video. 
If you're a cult movie fan of any caliber whatsoever, then it's a near-certainty that SWV has been an important part of your movie education. The company specializes in preserving movies that were previously considered worthless, bottom-of-the-barrel junk: low-budget horror, exploitation, and sexploitation films, mainly from the 1950s, '60s, and '70s. Thanks to SWV, the films of Doris Wishman, Herschell Gordon Lewis, Harry Novak, Barry Mahon, Coffin Joe, and more found a new audience among '90s film freaks. And the company has never given up on that mission, even after the death of founder Mike Vraney in 2014. In 2025, conceding to the times, SWV relaunched as a streaming service on the Cultpix website.
In the company's earliest days, long before its "Special Edition" DVDs were available in stores, Something Weird Video was basically a mail-order company. Recently, in the Ed Wood Jr. Facebook forum, Jordan Rapoza posted an excerpt from SWV's first-ever catalog from 1995. After a little digging, I found that the entire catalog had been uploaded to the Internet Archive . To say the least, it's a pretty incredible document, one that instantly transported me back to the days when I was scouring Usenet forums and fanzines for any information I could get about these bizarre, "forbidden" films. I wish I'd held onto more of the catalogs and advertising flyers from those days. Luckily, others did!
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Ed Wood Wednesdays: The Ed Wood Polo Shirt Odyssey (Guest Author: W. Paul Apel)

What does this humble garment have to do with Ed Wood? Let's find out!
As long as he’s been infamous, Ed Wood has always been linked with clothing. The "worst director of all time" bit has gone hand in hand with the cross-dressing bit since the beginning of his rediscovery in the '80s, almost as if one is a bonus added punchline to the other. Not only did this guy direct Plan 9 from Outer Space (1957), goes the legend, but he did it in an angora sweater.

Much has been written about Eddie's passion for women's clothing, including a lot by Eddie himself. He started his career with the semi-autobiographical plea for tolerance, Glen or Glenda (1953), and ended it with stacks of adult paperbacks filled with cross-dressing and gender-bending characters, each clad in outfits Eddie never failed to describe in loving, microscopic detail.

Very little, by comparison, has been written, whether about or by Eddie, concerning men's clothing. And that's the corner of Eddie's closet I’d like to get into today. Let's push aside Eddie's alter ego Shirley's sizable wardrobe and look at what he wore by day. Specifically, his polo shirts.

This odyssey all began with one of the aforementioned adult paperbacks, an adaptation of the Wood-scripted Steven Apostolof flick Orgy of the Dead (1965). Ever since I first read in Rudolph Grey's Nightmare of Ecstasy (1992) that this feature length series of striptease acts had been improbably adapted into a piece of literature by Wood himself, and saw the striking cover art by Robert Bonfils, I knew I had to own my own copy someday.

When that day finally came, decades later, I was struck by an oddity among the many photo illustrations. I had heard the tale of how Eddie had absconded with publicity stills taken on the set of Orgy by Robert Charles Wilson for use in this publication, but I wasn't expecting to see, inexplicably, a photo of Eddie himself right there on page 107.
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Ed Wood Wednesdays, week 234: The Ed Wood Polo Shirt Odyssey (Guest Author: W. Paul Apel)

What does this humble garment have to do with Ed Wood? Let's find out!
As long as he’s been infamous, Ed Wood has always been linked with clothing. The "worst director of all time" bit has gone hand in hand with the cross-dressing bit since the beginning of his rediscovery in the '80s, almost as if one is a bonus added punchline to the other. Not only did this guy direct Plan 9 from Outer Space (1957), goes the legend, but he did it in an angora sweater.

Much has been written about Eddie's passion for women's clothing, including a lot by Eddie himself. He started his career with the semi-autobiographical plea for tolerance, Glen or Glenda (1953), and ended it with stacks of adult paperbacks filled with cross-dressing and gender-bending characters, each clad in outfits Eddie never failed to describe in loving, microscopic detail.

Very little, by comparison, has been written, whether about or by Eddie, concerning men's clothing. And that's the corner of Eddie's closet I’d like to get into today. Let's push aside Eddie's alter ego Shirley's sizable wardrobe and look at what he wore by day. Specifically, his polo shirts.

This odyssey all began with one of the aforementioned adult paperbacks, an adaptation of the Wood-scripted Steven Apostolof flick Orgy of the Dead (1965). Ever since I first read in Rudolph Grey's Nightmare of Ecstasy (1992) that this feature length series of striptease acts had been improbably adapted into a piece of literature by Wood himself, and saw the striking cover art by Robert Bonfils, I knew I had to own my own copy someday.

When that day finally came, decades later, I was struck by an oddity among the many photo illustrations. I had heard the tale of how Eddie had absconded with publicity stills taken on the set of Orgy by Robert Charles Wilson for use in this publication, but I wasn't expecting to see, inexplicably, a photo of Eddie himself right there on page 107.
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Podcast Tuesday: "TRUE STORY: I'm in a Happy Days Documentary"

Am I an official Cunningham now? No, but I can dream.
I've been putting original content on the internet for over 30 years now, most of it totally for free. I started posting on Usenet newsgroups and AOL forums in the mid-1990s, and I've never stopped creating material (songs, scripts, stories, etc.)  and trying to get it out to the world somehow. It's really just an evolution of what I was doing in junior high and high school. In my pre-internet days, I made little hand-drawn comics and passed them around class. I also wrote for the school newspaper. You'd think the internet would connect me with a much larger audience than I had back then, but so far that's not really been the case. My appeal has always been extremely limited, bordering on nonexistent.
I suppose I hoped that, eventually, something I made would catch on and I'd garner some kind of following. It just never happened for me, though, at least not on any grand scale. Whatever the zeitgeist is, I've never captured it. About a decade ago, I briefly made an attempt at being a professional freelance writer. I got some things published, but again success eluded me. Then, the work dried up altogether and I had to give it up. Still in all, I've been doing this blog since 2009 and These Days Are Ours: A Happy Days Podcast since 2018, and I have no plans to stop either one of them any time soon. I'll keep creating and releasing this stuff for as long as I can, even if my only audience is myself.
These days, I'm always surprised and grateful when anyone reads anything I've written, listens to anything I've recorded, or watches anything I've filmed. It's not often that people find my work, but I'm happy when they do. Recently, I was contacted by a production company that was making a documentary about Happy Days for CBS. I'm not exactly sure how they found me, but they did, and they asked me to be a part of their show. This was pretty extraordinary. This week on the podcast, I talk about that experience and what I learned from it. If you're interested in hearing it, just press the play button on the episode below.
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