“Around the World in 90 Minutes” was the name of the Mike Todd party feature in October 1957, broadcast as an episode of Playhouse 90. It was roundly derided in the press, and some reviewers even regretted that it ran opposite a Hallmark presentation of “Green Pastures” on another network. Then other reviewers (who presumably tuned into “Green Pastures” for a while) cocked a snook at their stuffy colleagues and said the only reason it got praise is that it wasn’t the crazy Mike Todd party, and very few people watched it.
I know I’ve seen this, I thought a couple of nights ago after being out with Pat E. But I couldn’t find it on YouTube or elsewhere. They do seem to have it at the nearby Paley Center (formerly Museum of Broadcasting). But how did I see it a couple of years back? So it comes to me yesterday that I found it at Robert’s Hard to Find Videos and ordered it, for maybe $20. Probably PayPal; check that for late 2021. I watched it on a DVD, via this selfsame Mac Air 13″ (still my favorite). It contained only the broadcast, narrated by Walter Cronkite, with a lot of circus animals and celebs. Pat E’s colossal moment does not appear.
I look for the Robert’s Videos site, all combinations of its name, and it seems they don’t exist or are gone. Maybe Robert died? In Saskatoon. Most likely I kept the DVD disk in the envelope it came in, whether it not it was in a jewel box. Most likely it’s around here. Going to be hard to hunt through CDs, DVDs, similar detritus.
One thing I immediately see in looking at one of my stacks is Gordon Sharpe’s “Relaxing” CD, which should be copied onto our digital devices. Also Pat Whatsisname’s running-rhythm music.
On the credenza, atop the set-top box, are Moki’s passport, a card case with SS card, license, and various other things. The wandering mind thinks: I can set up a new Amazon Associates account for him. But would it be worth it? I didn’t make a cent, even though I was cheating, with my own account. And they cut me off. I just didn’t have traffic on my sites.
Good call to A.T. late yesterday afternoon. Well now, it seems she does remember getting something with a photo of Moki and their mother. Must be only thing that registered with her.
Last night I worked my way quickly through the second pint I bought Wednesday night (it is now Friday) and bought some Rice-A-Roni Spanish Rice mix, San Marzano tomatoes, and jalapeño chicken sausage. I stuffed myself on that, and half of it is still in the skillet, though minus the sausage bits that I picked at.
Tonight or tomorrow I should call Joan Igoe to see if I should come over on Sunday (Christmas Eve). What should I bring? This afternoon or evening I should try Jamie again. Maybe phone him from Moki’s landline. Need that check. I may suggest I travel up there.
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A little later. I went out to the lv rm to start a search through all the CDs, instead decided it would be a good time to hang the Sneem photo. I have done it, more or less aligned, with the picture-hanging hardware picked up from Target earlier this week.The paint is not too streaky, even with the bad lighting here.
I’d gone to Tarzhay mainly to see if there were any more tiny-bulb LED Christmas tree lights for my spindly clot of weeds (remains of an avocado plant that may or may not sprout again, surrounded by what look like tomato plants). Position it pathetically in our dirty windows.
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A little later still. I walked all the way down to St. Agnes on East 43rd, and let me tell you, that is twice as far away as St. Patrick’s. But I was going to Confession for the first time in (modestly estimated) ten years. Got some Filipino or other nonwhite Spanish-tinged priest. Very kindly. Penance, a mere three Our Fathers. Asked me if I lived alone. I do now! Any children? Well they’re grown, and they live in Europe! (Does this count as a sin?) Outside a Mass was slowly going on. The priest there (another foreigner) took his time with the sermon. I left at the cusp of the Offertory. I wasn’t there to receive Communion, I was there to be shriven.
My mind now unravels to thoughts of moving to Front Royal, or Winchester, or someplace farther up the Shenandoah Valley where I might claim distant roots. Northern end has the advantage of being within driving distance of Berkeley Springs while still letting one get to know the TradCat pod around FR. The Yockey kin have burrowed deep into UltraTradCatism, attending a Ukrainian Catholic Church, in a rite and Uniate sect relatively unpozzed by the mainstream. Of course I used to go to a Lithuanian church near Canal Street, because they had convenient midday masses, and a Tridentine Latin one on Sunday. But that wasn’t an Eastern Rite Church.
I do not have the money to move, otherwise I might be tempted. But I’m too old to start over someplace else. I must grow where I’m planted, and maybe visit these places and try to make do. Of course I do not have the money to stay, either. Get a job, a real job, where you show up every day in the office and get a paycheck every two weeks. Do they still exist?
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Terrible tooth and gum pain, last couple of weeks. It’s as bad as the one around my bad tooth, the UR 6-year molar that was drilled to distraction in childhood, and then gloriously root-canaled and crowned in 1987 by a guy who still practices across the street. But that was definitely an abscess. This new pain, in the UL bicuspid area, just feels like severe gum pain, with no swelling or pain high up in the gum. More like a toothache, but I can’t think what brought it on. High sensitivity to heat, as I found while drinking tea this afternoon. I’ve taken aspirin and just now made four capsules of Erythromycin, in case there is an abscess coming on. (Get new capsules of that Ayurvedic herb so I can empty them out and fill them.)
My purple Craft gloves have disappeared. Not in the Barbour coat. Not on the floor.
At Shirley’s I picked up a bottle of the $9.99 plonk I bought a couple of weeks ago. Shirley made Christmas present of this to me, along with a pint of Svedka.
The season is being good to me. Now if only I could get that check from A.T.
I bought a little arugula salad and a log of chevre at Klein’s. May eat it when the pain goes down.
Could not find the Mike Todd disk. Clearly I didn’t value it much. It didn’t have Pat E’s scene. But I did come across the 1958 Aladdin video disk that I bought around 2013-2014 from the same Robert’s Videos place. I posted the Cyril Ritchard opener to YouTube years ago, and later on another kind soul evidently posted the whole damn thing.
