main: May 2009 Archives

Lisa Ross's photos of obscure Chinese shrines to Sufi saints have an impact that goes beyond anthropological or political record-keeping. I have written recently about her show at New York's Daneyal Mahmood Gallery, up until June 13, for online's Obit Magazine. But here is a brand-new podcast, interviewing yours truly about the work, as well as a listen-while-driving version of the piece.

So who will the wrinkled redhead bring to bed -- assuming he hasn't already?

As a fourth-grade student at Midwood, Brooklyn's P.S. 238, I struggled with my carrot-top best friend, another Jeffrey, over who was Archie and who Reggie. (Jeffrey and I also shared the same weird middle name!) But as any constant Out There reader can anticipate, although I studied those comics hard to see which of the two I wanted to be, I was much more "interested" in the other light-dark pair, sunny blonde Betty and well-born brunette Veronica.

In those dim times, little boys as well as big divided the world of girls (white girls, natch) into blondes, brunettes, and redheads. When we stuffed the corner-grocery cardboard ballot box with our choice for New York's own Miss Rheingold, most of the votes were really for Kodacolor hair.

Miss Rheingold, by the way, was a big deal. In 1959, total votes were over 22 million; only the presidential election drew more. Pre-Birds Tippi Hedren, Hope Lange and even Grace Kelly were sometime candidates. (Grace Kelly was rejected for being "too thin.")

Anyway, all the boys divided our little-girl friends into Bettys and Veronicas. (Where is Debby Kinsbrunner now? She and I once had a date our mothers took us to, at the local NBC studio to be audience for the hot new quiz show, Hugh Downs' Concentration. Debby was a definite Betty.)

All these years later, we finally know on whose hand Archie will place that ring. Any guesses? (Careful, spoiler follows.)

Not Betty's!

And not Veronica's!

Yes, turns out that I am Jughead, and Jughead, Archie's betrothed, is happier than he ever thought possible.

Reggie is furious, as I always hoped he would be.

For an automatic alert when there is a new Out There post, email jiweinste@aol.com.

Now that our Idol hangover is over, we may regain some composure and perspective about the relative importance of a manipulated mass election -- sounds presidential, no? -- within the body politic of popular culture. Right? Then how do I explain why I woke up literally singing the word "swing" -- but like a cat wail, "swiiiiiiinnnnnng."

Judy was talking to me again.

"Didn't you see me?" she asked. "I was hard to miss. I had to share some space with Freddie, but I like Freddie, and even with that awful Lee" -- I knew instinctively that she meant Liberace -- "but that was mostly me inside Adam."

And inside Kris? "Yes, it was dear Deanna."

But Judy, Adam lost, and you ...

"Won? I'm 40-years dead, sweetie, and dear Deanna's still kicking."

So that's why I couldn't get my eyes off chubby Glambert, why in spite of his mall-nite hair and lycra-sausage limbs I waited week after week to watch his raw, unstoppable, insoucient nerve.

If for reasons of age or memory you don't know which Judy or Deanna I mean, please let me offer a holiday reprise of American Idol's earlier version, an MGM short subject from 1936 called Every Sunday. In it, 14-year-olds Judy and Deanna are introduced to the filmgoing public in a sweet cinematic duel: classical versus swing. But they're not really rivals; in fact, the girls are as tender in their teamwork as Adam and Kris.

If you like, you can drag the YouTube bar and start the piece at three minutes, but the whole thing is only 10, so take a chance.

By the way, after seeing the short, some MGM genius told a line producer to "dump the fat one."

And in case any novice wants to know why Judy is indelible, just slide the button to 6:20 and look at the way this teenager moves her hips and lips when she gets into her groove and instructs us to ... swing. 

I guess I still take her advice to heart.

For an automatic alert when there is a new Out There post, email jiweinste@aol.com.