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Goodnight, Nessie
By Dave Sikula
Fri, November 12, 2010, 12:01 am PST

The Loch Ness Monster
Goodnight to the creature
who swims in the lake.
Goodnight to the killjoys
who think she's a fake.
Thursday, we noted the anniversary of Route 66, and until the federal government decommissioned it, the various highway departments in the states through which the road ran kept it in good shape. Not every such department is as fastidious, though. For example, there's the Oregon Highway Division, which on November 12, 1970, decided that the best way to destroy a rotting sperm whale that had beached itself before dying was to blow it up, an incident which led to one the greatest memes in Internet history: "the exploding whale."

While the whale parts made for a gloppy, smelly mess, the resulting patterns might well have resembled a masterpiece by Sunday's birthday boy, Claude Monet. Born in 1840, Monet was part of the revolutionary school of painting (taking its name - "Impressionism" – from of one of Monet's pictures) that was notable for depicting the effects of light on objects and places and making unique personal statements through their canvases.

Friday must be a day for creatures. In 1933, Hugh Gray took the first known photos of the Loch Ness Monster in Scotland. While some deny the existence of "Nessie," we are convinced she is alive and well.

Not so benign a creature was Joseph McCarthy, the senator who took paranoia, ignorance, and character assassination to new heights. Sunday would have marked his 102nd birthday. McCarthy was, by all accounts, an unpleasant man, and through his unceasing attempts to smear anyone who opposed him as a Communist, he managed to give his name to both an era and a political tactic. Censured by the Senate in 1954 for his actions, he eventually drank himself to death in 1957.

Almost as unpleasant as Sen. McCarthy is Yanni, the New Age musician whose calming tunes are as soporific as the situation comedies of Sherwood Schwartz. Both men celebrate their birthdays on Sunday, so perhaps Mr. Schwartz (responsible for such sitcoms as The Brady Bunch" and "Gilligan's Island") and Mr. Hrysomallis (Yanni's real name) will spend the night before their 94th and 56th birthdays, respectively, watching something more energetic, like UFC 122. (The idea of Yanni screaming himself hoarse over wrestlers is pretty delicious.)

Of course, it's possible that the men might celebrate with a trip, though we wouldn't suggest one as energetic as that begun on November 14, 1889, when pioneering female journalist Nellie Bly (aka Elizabeth Cochrane) began her successful attempt to travel around the world in fewer than 80 days, in emulation of Jules Verne's Phileas Fogg. Nellie completed the trip in a mere 72 days. An appropriate feat this week especially, as National Geography Awareness Week begins on Sunday.

Newspapers around the world covered Nellie's trip, but the BBC couldn't have - because it didn't exist. The venerable network begin its radio service in 1922, some 33 years after her voyage. They've made up for it in the decades since with continuous news and entertainment.

One of the stories we're sure they covered was the marriage of actress Carmen Electra and basketball player Dennis Rodman, wed in Las Vegas (where else?) in 1998. Unfortunately, the happy couple couldn't make a go of it, and they were divorced four-and-a-half months later.

Something else that couldn't last (in spite of surviving about 500 years) was the Inca Empire, which saw the beginning of its end in 1533, when Francisco Pizarro's Spanish conquistadors arrived in Cajamarca, Peru, to show the natives who the new bosses were - a feat not unlike that performed by single women upon single men on Sadie Hawkins Day, which debuted in Al Capp's comic strip, "Li'l Abner" in 1937. Sadie Hawkins was the "homeliest gal" in Abner's hometown of Dogpatch. When she turned 35, her father declared that there would be a race with all the town's unmarried men being pursued by its unamrried women. Any bachelor who was caught was doomed to matrimony.

We end the week by noting that Saturday is World Kindness Day, and noting the 1952 death of a woman who must have been one of the kindest people ever: Margaret Wise Brown. Brown was a writer of children's books, who, in collaboration with such artists as Clement Hurd, turned out such classics as "Goodnight, Moon" and "The Runaway Bunny," which have calmed and enriched the bedtimes of millions of children.

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We Cannot Tell a Lie; It's the Best Spark Ever
By Dave Sikula
Mon, October 11, 2010, 12:01 am PDT

Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie as Jeeves and Bertie Wooster
"I say, Jeeves; this 'Spark' thing is a bit of
a rum go, isn't it?" "Actually, sir, I believe
it's a rather useful compendium of Internet
links." "Nonsense, Jeeves; there's nothing
useful on the Internet."
Now that it's officially autumn (in the Northern Hemisphere, anyway), events seem to be calming down as we prepare for the long winter hibernation. But don't think for a minute that nothing's going on. For example:

Monday:

In 1759, Mason Weems was born. Although he studied theology and became a parson in the Episcopal Church, we remember him best for his 1800 "History of the Life and Death, Virtues and Exploits of General George Washington." The book was less a biography than a collection of exaggerations and falsehoods -- most notably the story of six-year-old George cutting down one of his father's cherry trees,then confessing to the crime. The book was popular in its time, but has been debunked in the centuries since.

It's a day to celebrate politicians, such as the 126th birthday of Eleanor Roosevelt. Mrs. Roosevelt was the wife of Franklin D. Roosevelt, and the first lady of the land for some 12 years, During her time in the White House, she fought tirelessly for liberal causes and human rights, continuing her work after her husband's death, as both a United States delegate to the United Nations, and as chair of the U.N. Commission on Human Rights. Not that she couldn't have fun, or take time out to appear on quiz shows or to hawk margarine on television.

And it's the 35th wedding anniversary of Bill and Hillary Rodham Clinton. (Hint to Bill: the 35th is the coral or jade anniversary). Little did the Clintons know that their wedding night would coincide with the premiere of "Saturday Night Live," a program that would, in the decades to come, poke endless fun at both of them.

Remember last week when we were all aquiver over the Nobel Prizes being announced? Well, the festivities conclude today with the announcement of the winner of the Prize for Economics. Economics being an inexact science, this is the only one of the prizes not founded by Alfred Nobel, having been established by the Bank of Sweden in 1969.

What better way to celebrate winning a Nobel than by having a huge Thanksgiving feast? Think it's too early for Thanksgiving? Not if you're in Canada, where today is Turkey Day, thanks to their earlier harvests. And leftover turkey makes a great sandwich, perfect for National School Lunch Week, which begins today.

Finally, and more seriously, in light of the recent "It Gets Better" project, we note that today is National Coming Out Day, on which we celebrate our lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgendered friends and family members and their fight for equality. Sadly, tomorrow is the 12th anniversary the death of Matthew Shepard, who was tortured to death solely for being gay.

Tuesday:

Not so interested in equality was the Roman emperor Nero, who ascended to the throne on this day in 54. While Nero was, by all accounts, a tyrant and a dictator, he is likely best known for the apocryphal scenes of him fiddling or playing the lyre while Rome burned in a fire that destroyed a good portion of the city – a tale that's as false as the one about Washington and the cherry tree -- or the myths that Paul McCartney suffered a premature death.

The "Paul is Dead" craze began when a group of Drake University students uncovered a series of "clues" they thought had been planted by the Beatles to indicate McCartney had died. On this day in 1969, they persuaded WKNR DJ Russ Gibb to play "Revolution #9" backward in order to reveal its supposedly masked message of "Turn me on, dead man."

Some notable TV anniversaries today. Most important to us is the 1950 premiere of "The George Burns and Gracie Allen Show." While Burns and Allen were one of the top acts in vaudeville, movies, and radio, their television show was their most important contribution to show business. Decades ahead of its time, the show featured such innovations as George talking directly to the audience about the plot of the episode (which he generally found out about by watching the program -- as it was taking place -- on the television in his den, and replacing actors in mid-scene with other actors playing the same part. All of it was highlighted by Gracie's unique form of humor, which combined a lovable dimness with an inability to see beyond the literal meanings of words.

In 1953, "The Bob Hope Show" began its 20-year run on NBC, as America's favorite comedian traded quips and appeared in skits with the country’s top movie stars, athletes, and personalities.

1978 saw the premiere of "Sneak Previews," the first national iteration of the many shows featuring film critics Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert battling each other over which movies were any good. Those that were were awarded the coveted "two thumbs up" rating. Those that weren’t were usually greeted by Aroma the Educated Skunk or Spot the Wonder Dog, who highlighted the "stinker" or "dog" of the week.

We can assume that such a dismal fate would not await either the nominees for the Man Booker Prize, awarded each year to the best English-language novel written by a citizen of the British Commonwealth (the winner of which will be announced today), or those hoping for a National Book Award, the finalists for which will be announced tomorrow.

Those who are afraid they won’t get either a nomination or an award can take comfort in knowing that tomorrow is National Face Your Fears Day. Buck up and wait till next year!

You’d think a holiday would be anything but controversial, but today is Columbus Day (even if the banks were closed yesterday), and the "discoverer of America" is anything but universally hailed, especially by Native American groups.

Wednesday:

Only three events of note today, but none of them are without interest.

First of all, today is the 235th anniversary of the founding of the United States Navy.

It's also National Bring Your Teddy Bear to Work Day, in the hopes that having a stuffed friend nearby will relieve some of your workplace stress.

And speaking of stress, it was four years ago today that the Six Flags theme park in Gurnee, Illinois held a live cockroach eating contest. If only they'd waiting until the 14th, they could have made the competition part of National Chocolate Covered Insect Day or even National Dessert Day. Yum!

Thursday:

We mentioned that last week was the anniversary of the start of the carving of Mount Rushmore, and we have to wonder, given today's anniversary, whether Theodore Roosevelt could have done all the sculpting by himself, using only his bare hands. Why? On this date in 1912, while campaigning in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, Roosevelt was shot at point blank range. Fortunately, a metal glasses case and the speech he was supposed to deliver was folded in his breast pocket and took most of the impact. Even with a fresh flesh wound and the bullet still in him, TR still delivered the speech. They don't make 'em like that anymore.

Speaking of unique individuals, today is the birthday of actress Lillian Gish. Born in 1893, Miss Gish began her film career in 1912, working with pioneering director D.W. Griffith, and kept working until 1987’s "The Whales of August." Her career spanned virtually the entire history of cinema. While it might seem impossible that one woman could have been in both 1915’s "The Birth of a Nation" and an episode of "The Love Boat" 65 years later, Miss Gish did it!

Miss Gish even did live TV (there was no other kind in the 1950s, after all), and NBC's "30 Rock" will revive that artform tonight, with a special live episode from Rockefeller Center’s Studio 8H, normally the home of "Saturday Night Live."

As unique as Theodore Roosevelt, Lillian Gish, and live television is "Winnie-the-Pooh," the children’s classic by A.A. Milne, first published on this day in 1926.

Friday:

Speaking of characters, we note quite a few of them today. For example, Grace Bedell,  the eleven-year-old girl who wrote Abraham Lincoln on this date in 1860, suggesting that he grow a beard because "all the ladies like whiskers and they would tease their husbands to vote for you and then you would be President." Whether or not Lincoln took the advice seriously, he did start growing a beard within a month and was indeed elected.

Then there's P.G. Wodehouse, born in 1881. Wodehouse wrote some of the funniest novels ever penned (many of which featured the hopelessly dim Bertie Wooster and his invaluable valet, Jeeves) and was also a talented songwriter, who worked with composer Jerome Kern to, more or less, create the American musical.

And let us not forget Jack the Ripper (there's a transition!), who in 1888, sent his letter "From Hell" to the police investigating his murders.

Speaking of death, superspy Mata Hari met hers on this day in 1917. Even though she had lured many a man to his doom during World War I, she met her own end before a firing squad.

Of course, the entire world nearly met its end in 1962, as the Cuban Missile Crisis began. The Soviet Union had deployed nuclear missiles in Cuba, only 90 miles from the Florida coast, and the whole world held its breath as U.S. President John F. Kennedy and Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev went toe-to-toe, daring each other to blink first. Khrushchev ultimately conceded, removing the missiles after two weeks.

But it's not all gloom and doom today (even if today is National Grouch Day and tomorrow is National Boss Day -- are they inseparable?). It’s the anniversary of the 1951 premiere of "I Love Lucy," the sitcom that soon became the nation's favorite program and has aired continually ever since, thanks in large part to star and producer Desi Arnaz. In the early days of television, comedies were either aired live and lost forever, or syndicated using a kinescope (that is, by placing a camera in front of a monitor and filming the live broadcast). Arnaz had the idea of filming the show with three cameras before a live audience, treating the whole thing as a small movie -- a technique used to this day.

Of today’s last two events, one is unnecessary and the other is most necessary. The unnecessary one is Global Handwashing Day, which has the goal of encouraging everyone to wash their hands using soap and water to prevent the spread of disease. We know all our readers wash their hands -- especially after using the bathroom -- so there’s no need for the notice, right?

The necessary event is National Mammography Day, on which all women over 40 -- and those at risk -- are urged to schedule a mammogram in the hopes of detecting any early signs of breast cancer.

Saturday and Sunday:

Saturday is Dictionary Day, dedicated to that book with all the answers -- or, at least, with all the definitions. Why? Because, in 1758, Noah Webster, the man whose name has become synonymous (adj., "Having the same or a similar meaning" or "equivalent in connotation") with the idea of defining words, was born.

It’s also the birthday of two of the greatest playwrights in world history -- though they couldn't have been more different. 1854 saw the birth of Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wills Wilde. Wilde wrote with a flamboyance and genius that has seldom been equaled. His plays, such as "The Importance of Being Earnest" and "Lady Windermere’s Fan," bristle with wit. Unfortunately, his homosexuality was anathema to Victorian English society, and he was sentenced to two years at hard labor, which broke both his body and his spirit. He died in exile in Paris in 1900.

In 1888, Eugene O’Neill was born. The son of one of America's finest actors, James O’Neill, Eugene was drawn to the theatre from his youth. After stints as a merchant seaman and in a tuberculosis sanatorium, he began writing plays that were generally experimental, theatrical, and tragic. His final plays, including "A Moon for the Misbegotten" and "The Iceman Cometh," are towering achievements, but both are surpassed by "Long Day’s Journey into Night," a portrait of his family that is simultaneously horrific, lacerating, forgiving, tragic, and comedic. He was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1936, and died in 1953.

Actress Angela Lansbury turns 85 today. Lansbury began her film career at the age of 17 and hasn't stopped working since. While most audiences know her as mystery novelist Jessica Fletcher on "Murder, She Wrote," she is widely considered to be the first lady of the American stage, whose work in such musicals as "Mame" and "Sweeney Todd" have earned her seven Tony Award nominations and five awards, not to mention multiple nominations for the Academy Awards (three), the Golden Globes (15), and the Emmys (18).

No doubt our good friends at the Ultimate Fighting Championship will note Miss Lansbury's birthday with tonight's UFC 120 in London, as will the folks who urge you to protect and improve the lives of cats around the country on National Feral Cat Day.

If you'd like to raise your own glass to her, we urge you to cook up a mess of noodles to accompany it, since tomorrow is National Pasta Day. If you don't have the urge to cook, you might want to pass on a quick burger and join others who are noting World Anti-McDonald’s Day. We'd never do that, personally -- the fries are just too darn good -- but we appreciate the sentiment.

However you celebrate, don't overdo it, or you won't be able to join us next time. See you then!

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What a Lovely Prize! It's So Nobel of You!
By Dave Sikula
Mon, October 4, 2010, 12:01 am PDT

Alfred Nobel
Alfred Nobel: "Boom goes
the dynamite!"
Welcome to this the very special Nobel Prize-week edition of The Spark! Let others bask in the sham glow of the Oscars and Emmys. The Nobels are the Big Prizes -- as we'll see as we travel through the week. We're too excited to wait, so let's begin!

Monday:
hile almost nothing can top the Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine, which will be awarded today, we'd like to think that National Taco Day comes close. Celebrate medicine by clogging your arteries, we say!

That's not all, though. This week is also World Space Week, commemorating not only the 1957 launch of the Soviet Union's Sputnik I, (the world's first artificial satellite), but also landmarks like SpaceShipOne, which, in 2004, became the first private craft to fly into space, winning the Ansari X Prize.

And don't forget World Animal Day, a day to celebrate all our furry, feathered, and finned friends. (Many of whom them may be uninvited guests in the athletes' village at the Commonwealth Games in New Delhi, India.

Athletes and animals vying for the same living space seems a scenario tailor-made for Buster Keaton, whose 115th birthday we note. Keaton was the greatest of the clowns who populated silent film in the 1910s and 1920s; his physical feats and creativity were seldom equaled. And although his personal life hit the skids in the early '30s, he never stopped working, and he lived long enough to see his films rediscovered in the 1960s, and his genius acknowledged.

Today is also the birthday of writer Damon Runyon (1880). Runyon started out as a street-wise sportswriter, reporter, and columnist in 1920s New York, and he came to know a vast number of characters from all strata of society, from gamblers and con men to socialites and evangelists. He portrayed them in a language all his own, in a series of short stories that paint the Big Apple as a giant amusement park. Those stories were adapted into the musical "Guys and Dolls," which opened in 1950 and became an instant classic.

For all the characters Runyon described, few had the colorful grotesqueness of the cast of "Dick Tracy," the venerable comic strip that made its debut in the Detroit Mirror this day in 1931. Created by writer and artist Chester Gould, Detective Tracy fought such oddities as The Mole, Pruneface, "Itchy" Oliver, and Flattop Jones (not to mention Flattop Jr.). Gould died in 1985, but the strip continues to this day with its unique mix of grotesque villains who meet gruesome deaths. Fun for the whole family!

Not as bizarre -- but with as colorful a cast of characters -- was the Orient Express, the luxury train that ran from Paris to Istanbul starting in 1883. In novels and films, the train's passengers are usually portrayed as committing espionage, blackmail, murder, or any number of other unsavory exploits. While the original train stopped running in 2009, a private company picked up both the route and the rail cars -- although nowadays the full route is offered only twice a year.

We were going to remark that, if any of those characters on the Orient Express gets too nefarious, the Supreme Court is back in session today and could take care of them. But of course, the Court has no jurisdiction in Europe, so the point is moot.

The Court does have jurisdiction in South Dakota, where, in 1927, the first carving began on Mount Rushmore. Over the decades, there have been calls for other presidents to join Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, and Theodore Roosevelt, but those petitioners are out of luck, since there's no more rock that can be sculpted.

Tuesday:

Today's Nobel category: physics. Who will follow in the footsteps of Einstein, Bohr, and the Curies?

Today's birthdays: Larry Fine (1902), the most valuable of the Three Stooges, who provided the necessary buffer between Moe and Curly, Shemp, Joe, and Curly Joe. Ray Kroc (also 1902), the milkshake-machine salesman who, became the head of McDonald's and terrorized untold millions of cows. In 1922, cartoonist Bil Keane was born. Keane created "The Family Circus." Even though the strip has long since been taken over by Jeff Keane (the red-haired, oval-headed one), it has spawned innumerable parodies and is both loved and loathed by millions.

Not realy "birthdays," but also making their debuts today were "Monty Python's Flying Circus" (which premiered on the BBC in 1969) and the first of the James Bond films, "Dr. No," which opened in 1962. (Let it be noted that Sean Connery was not the first Bond, though. Barry Nelson portrayed American secret agent "Jimmy Bond" in a 1954 television adaptation of "Casino Royale.")

And not exactly a "debut," but something to be noted is that October 5 is the most common birthday in the United States. That makes sense, since it would mean that most of those children were conceived on New Year's Eve. (We'll let you do the rest of the math ...)

All those children need education, so it's appropriate that Tuesday is also World Teachers Day.

Wednesday:

This time of year, it's hard to not think of baseball, especially with the Major League playoffs beginning today, so it's fortunate that there are two baseball-related events. In 1880, the Cincinnati Red Stockings were kicked out of the National League for selling beer. (Hard to imagine any franchise today going without beer sales.) And speaking of "going without," in 1945, restaurateur Billy Sianis and his pet billy goat were ejected from Wrigley Field during Game 4 of the World Series. Sianis took the occasion to curse the team, which went on to lose the Series -- to which the team has never since returned. (The Cubs, of course, won their last world championship in 1908.)

A winning team needs chemistry, which is perhaps why the Nobel Committee chose today to award the prize for that discipline. (We're hoping to win the Nobel for strained transitions.)

For those not so interested in baseball, but who are still looking for a pastime, we offer Balloons Around the World, dedicated to those artists who twist and sculpt inflated rubber bladders. If balloons don't tickle your fancy, you might head to Dallas, where the Fall Toy Preview opens, giving consumers and retailers a clue as to what will be the hot toys this holiday season. We have to wonder what will be this year's Cabbage Patch Kid, the red-hot can't-get-it doll that debuted 27 years ago tomorrow.

If toys and balloons aren't your speed, you might screen "The Jazz Singer," to commemorate its 1927 opening. The film wasn't the first talking picture by any means, but the combination of Al Jolson and its story proved a powerhouse that was the death-knell for silent movies. If musicals aren't your speed, how about a movie starring Bette Davis? Davis may well have been the greatest actress in the history of the movies, garnering 11 Academy Award nominations (winning two), whose career spanned the decades from 1931 until her death on this day in 1989.

Davis did a couple of Broadway musicals (which is unfortunate, given her overall lack of a voice), but neither of their scores made the "Great American Songbook," so you’'ll have to depend on Michael Feinstein, whose PBS series on the Songbook begins airing tonight.

Thursday:

Birthdays of the day:

1859: Thomas J. Wise. Wise was one of England's foremost bibliographic experts, who made a fortune selling rare books and first editions for outrageous prices. The books Wise sold were rare and first editions, but not in the way he alleged. The fact was that he forged most of them. (None of them, of course, would have been alleged to be by the winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature, which will be announced today.)

Rssian Prime Minister Vladimir Putin turns 58 today. We assume he'll pose shirtless and perform feats of strength, as is his wont. We further assume he won't don a black t-shirt and try to make his biceps look huge, as does today's other birthday boy, Simon Cowell, born in 1959.

And please, if you would, take a moment on this, the ninth anniversary of the US invasion of Afghanistan, to reflect on all the lives lost and changed forever.

Friday:

The late Harvey Pekar would have turned 71 today. Pekar's comic series "American Splendor" gave new life to the independent comics movement, as he turned his mundane daily life into art.

Not so arty are the books of R.L. Stine, who was born in 1943. Stine and his innumerable ghost writers have turned out scores of young adult horror novels designed to scare kids and throw parents into throes of agony because their children aren't reading better books.


In movies, actress Sigourney Weaver turns 61 (and it's a damn fine-looking 61, we may add), and the biopic of Secretariat opens, just four days after the 21st anniversary of his death. Secretariat was probably the greatest racehorse of all time, whose athleticism and personality won him millions of fans -- and many of whose racing records still stand, decades after they were set.

One of the few awards Secretariat did not receive was the Nobel Peace Prize, which will be announced today.

Saturday:

Something for everyone today. It's the birthday of Lt. Col. Alfred Dreyfus (1859), the French Army officer who was falsely convicted of treason, and whose imprisonment on Devil's Island sparked international outrage and exposed a vast strain of anti-Semitism running through France's government and society.

For the more sensationally-minded, it's the 120th birthday of evangelist Aimee Semple McPherson. "Sister Aimee" was a circus in herself, exhibiting equal measures of religious fervor and a genius for self-promotion -- to the point where she faked her own kidnapping in 1926. Over the decades, though, her fame faded, and she died of an accidental overdose of Seconal in 1944. (And, coincidentally, a television film was made about her fake kidnapping that starred Bette Davis as her mother.)

As loud and boisterous as McPherson was, Jacques Tati (1909) was silent. Tati was a French writer/actor/director who achieved worldwide fame with his comedies featuring himself as the befuddled Monsieur Hulot, a gentle and quiet man who was baffled by the modern world. In December, "The Illusionist," based on an unproduced screenplay of his, will open in the U.S. -- starring a animated version of Tati.

For the adventurous, Kona, Hawaii, will today feature the Ironman Triathlon World Championships, wherein competitors will take on a 2.4-mile swim, a 112-mile bike race, and a 26.2-mile run -- and then ask for more.

If that sounds too strenuous, you might want to take a trip to Manhattan, where the ice rink at Rockefeller Center will open. Seems a bit early to be taking part in winter sports, but we suppose anything is possible in New York.

Of course, even skating may seem a bit much for some, so we'll just remind them that it's Moldy Cheese Day, devoted to the tasting and enjoyment of smelly fromage -- the smellier and moldier, the better.

Lastly, we note with sadness that, had history run a different course, we'd be celebrating the 70th birthday of the late Beatle John Lennon and the 30 years of music we've been robbed of because of his untimely murder.

Sunday:

To end the week, we suggest you dig out your fancy duds to celebrate Tuxedo Day, which marks the anniversary of the tuxedo dinner jacket making its debut in New York City in 1886. The coat got its origins when the members of the exclusive Tuxedo Club in Tuxedo Park, NY (and you wondered how the coat got its name ...) began looking for a new style of jacket that was less formal than a cutaway but was still dressy.

If you’'re in a mood to travel, you might take your tux and head to London for the grand reopening of the Savoy Hotel. The Savoy originally opened in 1899 and was the last word in luxury and opulence, featuring electric lights and elevators, and bathrooms with hot and cold running water inside most of the room. The hotel's been closed since 2007 while it's undergone a $350 million renovation, which promises to bring it into the 21stst century and beyond.

If London sounds a bit expensive, you might try traveling to Pyongyang to celebrate North Korea's Party Foundation. After all, it's the 65thth anniversary of the founding of Workers Party of Korea. If you run into Kim Jong Il, you might give him a lovely cake (since it's National Cake Decorating Day) -- though you might likelier be reminded that it's World Mental Health Day. But the Dear Leader isn't the only reminder of the varying degrees of mental well-being. For example, today would have been the 86thth birthday of film director Ed Wood. Wood is generally considered to be the worst director who ever lived, and his masterpiece, "Plan 9 from Outer Space," is thought to be one of the worst movies ever made. (We've seen worse, personally.) Wood was less mentally unstable than he was incompetent, so who else might we think of when speaking of poor mental health?

How about the good citizens of Lake Havasu City, Arizona, who bought and dismantled London Bridge, moved it to their desert town, and reopened it on this day in 1971? Or the well-meaning folks who'll be traveling to Ashton, England, for the World Conker Championships? What is conkers?, you may ask. It's a game where two players take horse-chestnut seeds, run stringa through them, and then swing them at an opponent's conker. The first player to break the other's seed wins. We don't get it, but they love it.

Our final note for the week is to call attention to the day's date: 10/10/10.

10+10+10=30, and "-30-” is the old newspaperman's code for the end of a story, which we'll take as our cue.

See you next time!

-30-


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It's All Showbiz, Kid
By Dave Sikula
Mon, September 20, 2010, 12:01 am PDT

Jack LaLanne
Jack LaLanne at a mere 92 --
and he could still take you one-handed
It's nearly Autumn! So won't you join The Spark as we fall into the week's events?

Monday:

You'd think something from the 17th century that's been confirmed by every reliable scientist for the past 400 years would be over and done with, wouldn't you? On this day in 1633, astronomer Galileo Galilei was tried by the Vatican for teaching that the Earth orbits the Sun. Well, even though the Catholic Church eventually apologized to Signor Galilei (albeit in 1992), there are still some folks beating the drums for geocentrism. "plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose," we guess.

Galileo's trial wasn’t the only event related to stirring things up on this day, though. In 1878, Upton Sinclair was born. His muckraking and provocative style evidenced itself over nearly 100 books, the most notorious of which, "The Jungle," exposed the horrors of the meat-packing industry, and led in great part to the 1906 passing of the Pure Food and Drug and Meat Inspection Acts.

In 1885, Ferdinand "Jelly Roll" Morton was born. Morton was many things, including, a pianist, bandleader, and composer, but is best known for his spurious claims to have invented jazz.

1947 saw the death of New York's mayor, Fiorello La Guardia. The "Little Flower" was that rarest of animals nowadays, a progressive Republican who cleaned up the vast network of corruption in Big Apple politics. He wasn't a reformer 24/7, though, in that he was known to leave business matters at the drop of a hat to hop onto a passing fire truck, and in 1945, when a strike stopped newspapers from being printed, he read the comic section on the radio so readers could keep up with the action.

Cartoon director Jay Ward would have turned 90 today. His off-kilter sense of humor leant itself to such classic shows as "The Adventures of Rocky and Bullwinkle," "Hoppity Hooper," and "George of the Jungle."

But let's not forget the ladies today. Legendary actress Sophia Loren turns 76 today, and tomorrow is the 29th anniversary of Sandra Day O'Connor being approved unanimously approved by the U.S. Senate as the first female Supreme Court justice, and in 1973, Billie Jean King struck a blow for feminists everywhere when she beat Bobby Riggs in straight sets in "The Battle of the Sexes" tennis match at Houston"s Astrodome. Of course, the 30-year-old King had an age advantage over the 55-year-old Riggs, and the whole thing was little more than a massive publicity stunt, but it was still good theatre.

Speaking of theatre, in 1994, songwriter Jule Styne died. Over his nearly 70-year career, he wrote more than 2,000 songs (of which the New York Times estimated that 200 were hits) and 29 musicals, some of which -- most notably "Gyspy" and "Funny Girl" -- are among the greatest achievement of the musical theatre. He was also nominted for nine Academy Awards, finally winning for "Three Coins in the Fountain" in 1953.

Not so notable, though. is "Dancing with the Stars," which begins its new season tonight, as does the new incarnation of "Hawaii Five-O;" though without Jack Lord -- and his hair -- we don't know if it'll be able to suvrive. (They are keeping the classic theme song, though.) Maybe the brainiacs participating in the 2010 Chess Olympiad in Khanty Mansiysk, Russia, will be able to figure that one out.

Tuesday:

Tougher to figure out is the case of comedian Milton Berle. In 1948, Berle was made the regular host of "The Texaco Star Theater." Almost overnight, Berle became the biggest star on television, sparking the sale of millions of TV sets as Americans clamored to see what "Uncle Miltie" would do next. He was so popular, in fact, that NBC signed him to a lifetime contract -- a contract that expired in 1978, 24 years before Berle's actual death.

Turning to sports, we see that today is both the 40th anniversary of the debut of "Monday Night Football" as well as being Miniature Golf Day. It's also the 60th birthday of avid golfer and Chicago Cubs fan Bill Murray.

Lots of literary doings today. In 1866, H.G. Wells was born. Wells is today best remembered for his science fiction novels like "The War of the Worlds" and "The Invisible Man," but he was also a historian and social critic and commentator. Why movie producer Jerry Bruckheimer, who turns 65 today, has never made one of Wells's novels into a blockbuster film we don't know. For that matter, we have to wonder why he's never made a film of one of Stephen King's books. After all, they share a birthday -- though King is two years younger.

We should be thankful, though that Bruckheimer never turned Virginia O'Hanlon's letter to the New York Sun asking if there was a Santa Claus (published on this day in 1897) into a mammoth summer movie -- though we suppose massive explosions don't really lend themselves to stories featuring eight-year-old Victorian girls. It's actually better fodder for an animated feature, perhaps one directed by Chuck Jones, born in 1912, and considered by many to be the greatest of all cartoon directors. His "Duck Amuck," "One Froggy Evening," and "What's Opera, Doc?" are usually considered three of the finest cartoons ever made.

Wednesday:

For that matter, we have to wonder why there’s never been a movie version of the life of Revolutionary War spy Nathan Hale. Seems like there’s enough adventure there to fill out a movie, but maybe the unhappy ending -- he was caught and hanged on this day in 1776 -- put the kibosh on those plans. Still, with such a killer final line ("I regret I have but one life to lose for my country"), you’d get an interesting ending. Perhaps it would have been an interesting subject for birthday boy Erich von Stroheim (1885), but given Stroheim's excesses (the first cut of his 1924 silent film "Greed" ran sixteen hours), perhaps that's not such a good idea.

Speaking of spies, we note in passing that, in 1964, "The Man from U.N.C.L.E." debuted on NBC (much to the delight of "Mad Men's" Sally Draper, we presume).

If only Hale had lived another seven years, he might have seen Russia establishing a colony at Kodiak, Alaska in 1784 -- an event which definitely allowed what Alaskans there were to see Russia from their houses. Such an event might have been fodder for the National Geographic Magazine, except it didn't begin publishing until more than a century later, in 1888. And if any of those Russian colonists had injured themselves, well, they just would have been out of luck, since Band-Aids weren’t invented until this day in 1921. (Need we mention that Band-Aid, like Kleenex, Xerox, Aspirin, Zipper, and even Heroin, is a trademarked name?)

Beginnings and endings today: The Queen Mary began her last Atlantic crossing in 1967 on its way to Long Beach, CA, where it floats today as a hotel and tourist attraction. (The ship had made her maiden voyage on September 26, 1934, so we're pretty sure the date of the finale was intentional.)

Not quite as regal, but still a movie queen was Marion Davies, who died on this day in 1961. The longtime companion/mistress of newspaper mogul William Randolph Hearst, Davies was a huge star in the 1920s. A talented comedienne, Hearst forced Davies to play dramatic parts before she finally retired from the screen in 1937. Unfortunately for her, she was the model of Susan Alexander Kane in Orson Welles's "Citizen Kane." The comparison is unfortunate because Davies, unlike Mrs. Kane, was actually talented, smart, and witty -- but history will forever associate them together.

In 2007, Marcel Marceau died. Marceau was one of the world's great mimes, and while street mimes have given the art form a bad name, artists like Marceau were able to translate human emotions into wordless vignettes of joy, pain, love, and hate that anyone in any country could understand and empathize with.

If Jule Styne's nine Oscar nominations seem a lot, consider the case of Harry Warren, who died in 1981. Over the course of his long career, Warren was nominated for 11, and won three. A list of his hits would be as long as your arm, from "Jeepers Creepers" and "Chattanooga Choo-Choo" (the first record to sell a million copies) to "We’re in the Money" and "42nd Street." For all his success, though, he was relatively unknown, even in his heyday.

As unknown as Warren was, Irving Berlin, who died in 1989 at the age of 101 was as famous as anyone in America -- and possibly the most successful songwriter of all time. From 1911, when his first hit, "Alexander’s Ragtime Band" made him world famous, to 1961, when his last musical, "Mr. President" flopped, he wrote more than 1,500 songs, the very minimum mention of which would include "Easter Parade" "White Christmas," "There's No Business Like Show Business" and "God Bless America." Jerome Kern (no slouch at songwriting himself), said of him, "Irving Berlin has no place in American music -- he is American music."

Enough of the farewells, though. Tonight, "Hell's Kitchen" returns, and we predict that chef Gordon Ramsey will swear, call someone a "donkey," and throw someone out of his kitchen in a fit of rage. If it gets too violent, we can be sure that the new police officers and ADAs of "Law & Order: Los Angeles" will be there to ensure justice is done. Ramsey's fits may seem the work of a madman, but we can be assures he’s (probably) sane, much like Joaquin Phoenix, who returns to David Letterman's show tonight to prove that his last bizarre appearance was merely a pose for his latest movie.

We're usually pretty good at linking things and finding tenuous connections between events, but we'll present these three to you and hope you can find a connection. Today is not only Elephant Appreciation Day (and who wouldn't appreciate an World Carfree Day (not "Free Car" Day, mind you), as well as being Ice Cream Cone Day.

Thursday:

A slew of birthdays. Baroness Emmuska Orczy was born in 1865. The baroness created something that is invaluable to many writers today. She invented the secret identity. In her novel "The Scarlet Pimpernel," Sir Percy Blakeney is, to all the world, an ineffectual fop. But to the terrorized rulers of post-revolutionary France, he is an avenging angel, rescuing otherwise helpless aristocrats. All right, it's not exactly Clark Kent and Superman, but it is a trope that writers have happily used in the years since.

In 1865, Mary Mallon was born. Mallon was better known as "Typhoid Mary" for her uncanny ability to carry the typhoid virus without herself becoming ill. Unfortunately, she worked as a cook and housemaid and spread the disease, killing two and making dozens ill before being forced to spend the final 23 years of her life in isolation.

In more current birthdays, we have Ray Charles (1930), quite possibly the hippest man who ever lived, and Mickey Rooney, who turns 90 today, and while probably not hip, is certainly hale and hearty, currently working on his 73rd year in the movie business. He was one of the top stars in the '30s and '40s, and has four movies out in 2010 and another scheduled for next year. He's the Energizer Bunny of actors. Speaking of ageless performers, Bruce Springsteen is 61 today and still performs with the energy of a man half his age.

Entertainment anniversaries: 1953 saw the premiere of "The Robe," the first movie made in CinemaScope (another trademarked name!) CinemaScope was hardly the first widescreen format (1930’s "The Big Trail" was made in a 70mm process called "Grandeur," but it was the first one that stuck. Movie studios, disturbed that people were staying at home and watching television, had to come up with a gimmick that audiences could get only in a theatre; hence, the big, big screen. Of course, if entertainment was going to be like "The Jetsons," which premiered in prime time in 1962 (ABC's first series in color, by the way), maybe movie moguls only had to wait for TV shows (like 1962's "The Beverly Hillbillies," 1964's "The Munsters" and "Gilligan's Island," and 1967's "The Brady Bunch," all of which premiered this weekend) that would drive folks out of their homes and back to the movies. (Although 1968 brought us "60 Minutes," so it's not a total loss.)

Not that television has gotten any better. NBC's "Outsourced" premieres tonight, set in an Indian call center, we have to wonder if any of the characters were fired by Donald Trump, whose "Apprentice" makes its return, as well. And if you can't stand those, there's always "CSI," featuring a guest appearance by teen heartthrob Justin Bieber, whom we sincerely hope plays a murder victim. If comedy is your preference, though, you might want to dig up a copy of Richard Nixon's 1952 "Checkers" speech, wherein the then-Vice Presidential candidate made a maudlin speech to defend himself from bribery charges, admitting that yes, he’d accepted a cocker spaniel puppy named "Checkers," but that he wouldn't be giving up the dog, which his daughters loved.

In 1806, Lewis and Clark returned to St. Louis after two years of exploring the Pacific Northwest, just in time for the Autumnal Equinox, which marks, of course, the 3/4 point in the year, and the beginning of fall.

Friday:

Two civil rights landmarks today. In 1957, President Dwight D. Eisenhower sent the 101st Airborne Division into Little Rock, Arkansas, to enforce the desegregation of Central High School, and in 1962, the United States Court of Appeals ordered the University of Mississippi to admit James Meredith as its first African-American student.

In 1896, writer F. Scott Fitzgerald was born. Fitzgerald chronicled the Roaring Twenties in such novels as "The Great Gatsby" and "The Beautiful and Damned," and was soon tempted by the bright lights of Hollywood, where he worked as a frustrated screenwriter. Even though he contributed to many, many scripts (including "Gone With the Wind"), he received only one screen credit (for 1938's "Three Comrades." Seeing that today is Fitzgerald's birthday and tomorrow is that of William Faulkner, we guess it's somehow appropriate that it's also National Punctuation Day. Faulkner toiled in Hollywood, too, but is best known for his long and dense novels set in the fictional Yoknapatawpha County of Mississippi. Like Fitzgerald, he was an alcoholic, but managed to survive to 1962 (Fitzgerald had died in 1940) and was awarded the Nobel Prize in 1949. We have the feeling that many high school students would like to violate the spirit of Banned Books Week (which begins tomorrow) by removing their works from the curriculum, but we would disagree.

In the oddity file, 1947 supposedly saw the establishment of the Majestic 12 committee by President Harry Truman. The committee was allegedly organized to investigate UFO activity in the wake of the Roswell incident in New Mexico. The only problem is that there's no evidence that the committee ever actually existed -- which, in conspiracist's minds, is probably the surest evidence it existed.

As weird as the aliens who visited Roswell were (assuming they existed) are the creatures created by Jim Henson, the Muppet master who was born in 1936.

Saturday:

In 1690, "Publick Occurrences Both Foreign and Domestick," the first newspaper to appear in the Americas, was published for the first -- and only -- time. Whether it was due to bad copy-editing, we don't know.

Today's birthdays include two actors who portrayed movie superheroes: Mark Hamill (1951) and Christopher Reeve (1952). (We were surprised to realize Hamill was older.) Mark portrayed Luke Skywalker, the would-be Jedi with father issues, and Reeve was obviously best known as Superman. Hamill's career has continued to the present, most notably as The Joker in "Batman: The Animated Series," where Reeve's was cut short by his 1995 equestrian accident that paralyzed him from the neck down. His charity, the Christopher and Dana Reeve Foundation, is still dedicated to finding treatments and cures for paralysis caused by spinal cord injuries.

Heroes of even another sort will appear in Indianapolis when UFC 119 begins and big slabs of beef will try to pound each other into submission, a tactic that would most assuredly not be approved by birthday boy Shel Silverstein (1930), whose wicked wit has enlivened many a childhood (and adulthood, for that matter).

It's also National One Hit Wonder Day, dedicated to those whose fame came and went in the twinkling of an eye, a description that would not apply to Barbara Walters, who, born in 1929, has been appearing on American television screens since 1961.

Sunday:

In 1774, John Chapman, aka "Johnny Appleseed," was born. Chapman was an early conservationist, who walked across colonial America, spreading, yes, apple seeds, vegetarianism, and a gospel of ecology and health.

In 1871, Winsor McCay was born. The father of the American animated cartoon, McCay was a cartoonist and draftsman almost without peer, whose idea that drawings projected in sequence could give the illusion of movement created a billion-dollar industry.

1872 saw the opening of the first Shriner's Temple in New York City. We have to wonder what Shriners rode around in before those little cars were invented.

In 1898, Jacob Gershowitz was born in Brooklyn. When he was 17, he published his first song as George Gershwin, and American music has never been the same. To this day, his songs are the backbone of the "Great American Songbook," and have been recorded and performed countless times. If he wrote nothing else, his opera "Porgy and Bess" would stand out at the greatest achievement in the history of the musical theatre. (There are some who would claim that place for "West Side Story," which opened in 1957. These people are wrong.)

In 1902, Levi Strauss died. His fame can be judged when you count the number of people who have had articles of clothing after them at all, let alone their first names.

Jack LaLanne was born in 1914, and he's still going strong. At 96, he still starts every morning with a brisk 90-minute session in the weight room, followed by a half hour walking or swimming. His lifelong commitment to health and fitness is a model to anyone of any age. He once said that he can't die, since it'd be bad for his image. We wouldn't bet against him.

We end this week by going from the sublime to the ridiculous. On CBS, "The Amazing Race" returns for its latest season, offering contestants the chance to see the world while humiliating themselves and suffering from killer fatigue.

On the other hand, over on Fox, the cast of "Glee" will guest on "The Simpsons." One show that's downright annoying and another that's long since passed its sell-by date. But, hey, that's showbiz!

And on that note, we bid you a fond adieu until next time.

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The Good, the Awful, and the Utterly Odd
By Dave Sikula
Mon, September 6, 2010, 12:01 am PDT

Alex the parrot and a dish of colored blocks
Alex had a vocabulary of 150 words.
That's more than some people we know.
Welcome once again to The Spark, your guide to the week's events, anniversaries, and commemorations.

We'll be frank about this week in particular, though; it's always tough to find events around September 11. It's not easy to maintain our (hopefully) snarky tone around such an anniversary, but we'll do our best.

Monday:

Well, obviously, it's Labor Day, which leads us to ask just where in the world the summer went. Wasn't it Memorial Day about ten minutes ago?

We also look at a couple of deaths today. In 1901, anarchist Leon Czolgosz went to the Pan-American Exposition in Buffalo, NY, and shot President William McKinley. McKinley didn't die right away; he lingered for a couple of days before passing. Czolgosz never expressed remorse for the murder and was electrocuted on October 29, 1901. So outraged were people by the murder, though, that his family was refused the right to take the body for interment, and it was buried in the prison grounds, where it was dissolved with a combination of quicklime and acid.

In 2007, Alex, the African Grey parrot who was trained by Dr. Irene Pepperberg, died of sudden and unexplained causes. Alex had a vocabulary of about 150 words, and his intelligence was rated at about the level of a five-year-old human. He could distinguish between shapes, colors, and numbers; had an understanding of the concepts of "zero," and personal pronouns; and could lie and joke.

Two TV premieres tonight. One is "The Cat in the Hat Knows a Lot About That" on PBS. It's another one of those public television shows that teaches things to kids, but we have to ask when the Cat, who's nothing but a disruptive anarchist in his books by Dr. Seuss, became an authority figure to be listened to. The other premiere is a show on Cartoon Network based on "Mad" Magazine. Guess there's just not enough content out there for adolescents with undeveloped senses of humor. What hath Judd Apatow wrought?

Tuesday:

In 1921, 16-year-old Margaret Gorman won the Golden Mermaid pageant in Atlantic City, NJ. The pageant was a publicity stunt designed to keep tourists in the city after Labor Day, and officials, no slouches when it came to hyperbole, named Gorman "Miss America." The pageant, which morphed from a beauty contest to a scholarship event, used to be a major part of American pop culture, but in recent years has faded to become a failed reality show followed by yet another Vegas spectacle. Sic transit gloria mundi. (Though we don't know if she ever won the crown.)

On this day in 1930, the "Blondie" comic strip debuted. We've all run across "Blondie" in our time, but we'll wager you didn't know that Blondie's maiden name was Boopadoop, that she started out life as a gold-digging flapper, or that Dagwood was the son of a millionaire, who disowned him for marrying Blondie. Regardless, the Bumsteads have been married since 1933. That’s a heckuva lot of sandwiches.

Wednesday:

So, Monday, we were talking about Leon Czolgosz, and today we'll mention the 169th birthday of Charles J. Guiteau, who shot President James Garfield in 1881. Guiteau was probably the craziest of all Presidential assassins, shooting Garfield because he had never been appointed consul to France, despite his lack of any qualification.

Speaking of unusal political figures, Lyndon LaRouche turns 88 today. LaRouche, is a perennial Presidential candidate who holds, shal we say, "unique" views, including his belief that Queen Elizabeth is the head of an international drug cartel.

While it’s easy to laugh at LaRouche for the wrong reasons, it's also the birthdays of two men at whom it's easy to laugh for the right reasons: Sid Caesar (1922) and Peter Sellers (1925). Caesar was a television superstar in the 1950s, headlining two comedy programs that, thanks to writing staffs that included Mel Brooks, Neil Simon, Woody Allen, and Larry Gelbart, turned out 90 minutes of classic live comedy every week -- just like "Saturday Night Live," only funny!

Sellers came to fame as a writer and actor on the legendary "Goon Show," whose crazy comedy paved the way for "Monty Python’s Flying Circus," among others. He soon moved on to films, playing multiple roles in such classics as "The Mouse That Roared" and "Dr. Strangelove," before finding film immortality as the blithely incompetent Inspector Clouseau in the "Pink Panther" films.

A couple of musical anniversaries today. In 1932, Patsy Cline was born. Her soulful singing style made her one of the first country singers to cross over to the pop charts. Unfortunately, she was killed in a plane crash at the age of 30. In 1935, a 19-year-old Frank Sinatra made his radio debut as part of the "Hoboken Four" on "Major Bowes' Amateur Hour." The Amateur Hour was a fixture of American entertainment for nearly 40 years and was the "American Idol" of its day; the only difference being that Major Bowes’s contestants were usually talented.

Speaking of talent, it was on this day in 1504 that Michelangelo's "David" was unveiled in Florence. The 17-foot-tall statue on a naked male soon became iconic, and has probably been as mocked and imitated as any work of art since.

While the David was quite an invention, it's not quite as useful as Scotch tape, which made its debut in 1930, when Richard Drew was trying to come up with a product that would allow the painting of sharp lines on automobiles.

In 1892, an early version of the Pledge of Allegiance appeared in "The Youth's Companion" magazine. Suffice it to say, the original did not include the phrase, "One nation under God," which was added by Congress in 1954 at the height of the Red Scare, in order to distinguish America from the Godless Communists of the Soviet Union. Those very Communists were provided with some kind of help -- divine or not -- starting in 1941, when the Siege of Leningrad began. For 872 days, the second-largest city in the Soviet Union was held under siege by the German army. No supplies got in or out, and Leningrad's citizens were forced to scavenge everything they could in order to survive harsh winters and constant bombardment. There are stories that they even had to resort to cannibalism. Regardless, their withstanding of the Nazis is one of the great stories of perseverance in world history.

Not as heroic, but certainly persistent and hard to avoid is "Star Trek," which premiered in 1966. Trekkies may be nerdish and obsessed (for example, we're sure there are those of them who would object to not being called "Trekkers"), but they're certainly literate. And they may well be celebrating International Literacy Day today.

Finally, we note that it's Rosh Hashanah and the beginning of the Jewish high holidays.

Thursday:

A number of birthdays today, including two that run from the sublime to the ridiculous -- which man fits into which category, we leave to you. Colonel Harland Sanders, the founder of Kentucky Fried Chicken was born in 1890, and Mario Batali, the chef who revolutionized American cooking, by, for nothing else, his use of offal and internal organs in his recipes.

To our uncultivated palates, such a diet would lead to a mutiny, which is ironic in that it's also the 256th birthday of William Bligh, whose harsh treatment of his crew led to the mutiny on HMS Bounty. On the other hand, such victuals may well have appealed to Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, the diminutive French artist who died in 1901. (We can’t speak as to whether such a diet led to either his diminished stature or his death. We just report 'em.)

In more baffling events, the NFL season begins tonight with the Minnesota Vikings taking on the New Orleans Saints. (It's baffling because football is a sport for the fall and winter months, and we're still a couple of weeks from the Autumnal Equinox). Also, the new season of "The Vampire Diaries" begins tonight, and we have to wonder just what we have to do to stop this mania for vampires and zombies! Enough already! (Although, maybe Viking quarterback Brett Favre's eerie longevity is due to his being either a vampire or a zombie. Just sayin'.)

Friday:

It's a day for things we like and admire. For example, it's Raymond Scott's 102nd birthday. Scott was a composer and bandleader in the 1930s and '40s who wrote avant-garde songs, many of which (most notably "Powerhouse") were used by composer Carl Stalling when writing the scores for Warner Bros. cartoons. We're also glad to celebrate the big 5-0 with actor Colin Firth, who always turns in good work, but who especially endeared himself to many a Janeite with he portrayal of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy in the 1995 version of "Pride and Prejudice." Musician Jerry Lee Lewis will perform on Broadway tonight with the cast of "Million Dollar Quartet."And we like the "Stand Up to Cancer" telethon, which will take over the television airwaves tonight in order to raise funds to beat cancer.

Of course, not everything today is likeable. For example, you may recall that last week we mentioned the anniversary of the shooting of Louisiana politician Huey Long. Well, after a couple of days of being hospitalized, Long died-- though whether the fatal bullet came from the alleged assassin or his own bodyguards, no one knows.

Saturday:

As we alluded to earlier, it's hard to be snarky this week, and this day, especially, but we'll try.

First of all, we note the coincidence of ground being broken on this day in 1941 for the construction of the Pentagon, when 60 years later, it would be attacked along with the World Trade Center.

When we were kids, we all knew the words to "Oh, Susanna." (You know, "I come from Alabama with a banjo on my knee ...") Well, it was first performed by its composer, Stephen Foster, in 1847 at the Eagle Saloon in Pittsburgh, PA. And how was Foster paid for the song? With a bottle of whiskey, which is an ending appropriate for the work of O. Henry, the writer who specialized in twist endings, and who was born in 1862.

Sunday:

We have a mixed bag to end the week.

First, the birthdays of two groundbreaking men. In 1880, H.L. Mencken was born. Mencken, "the Sage of Baltimore," was a reporter, critic, and etymologist, who acid coverage of politics and the Scopes "Monkey Trial" alone would have assured him immortality, but who crowned those accomplishments with his investigations into the roots of American English and by coining such maxims as "No one in this world, so far as I know -- and I have searched the records for years, and employed agents to help me -- has ever lost money by underestimating the intelligence of the great masses of the plain people." -- usually misquoted as "No one ever went broke underestimating the good taste of the American public."

The other is Jesse Owens, born in 1913, Owens won four gold medals at the 1936 Berlin Olympics, forever destroying Hitler's dream of using the games to establish his myth of Aryan superiority.

As groundbreaking as those men were, though, their accomplishments fade in contrast to the French artisans who, 17,000 years ago created a series of cave paintings in Lascaux, France, that were discovered in 1940. The paintings, which depict thousands of human and animals, give paleontologists irreplacable insights into the lives and psychology of paleolithic humans.

Speaking human psychology, we’ll note that today in Russia is the Day of Conception. The Russian government is encouraging citizens of the Motherland to propagate today in hopes that there will be a baby boom on Russia Day, which is nine months from now on June 12.

We'll close this somewhat somber week by noting the 1995 death of actor Jeremy Brett. Brett labored in relative obscurity until in 1985, when he was cast as Sherlock Holmes. Almost overnight, he became the definitive Holmes for many of us, as his strong and quirky characterization matched the downright oddness of the literary Holmes.

See you next time.

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