Did I ever tell you about that time I met David Morrell, Walt Howerton, Jane Fonda, Tom Hayden, Gus Hall, and that other guy

David Morrell
(photo by Phil Konstantin)

Looking back on it, TV might have played too big of a part in my childhood. Every memory I have revolves around some sixties or seventies TV series.

I turned five in 1963. The Beatles made their debut on the Ed Sullivan Show. Later that year we watched JFK get his brains blown out on live TV. For years after that, I remember watching reruns of his horse-drawn casket pulled down Pennsylvania Avenue.

By the mid-sixties, we were riveted to the TV set as “Uncle Walter” Cronkite brought us the war live from Vietnam. War correspondents droned on about guerilla fighting; I read a comic book that showed oversized gorillas carrying machine guns and bazookas through the jungles. Dumbass that I was, I thought they were real fricking monkeys slugging it out over there.

1966 brought us the Monkees. Adam West debuted as Batman. He danced the Batusi, had a way cool ride – the Bat Mobile, and whenever he laid hands on the bad guys, they flashed those really cool signs—Bam! Ka-Pow! Owie!

In 1969 Neal Armstrong walked on the moon. That’s “one small step for man, one large step for mankind.” We traveled halfway across the country in the back of a station wagon, visiting Vegas and California. All I remember is we didn’t have air conditioning. When you rolled down the windows in the Painted Desert hot air lapped your face like a sick dog.

 In 1970 a friend of mine swallowed a strange purple pill. Jughead jumped out of an Archie comic book and talked to him. What the f*#k!

What Blazing Saddles taught me about life, racism, liberty, justice, and all that other stuff

On a scale of one to ten, I’d give Blazing Saddles an eleven. Mel Brooks is the funniest son-of-a-bitch I've never met.

Who can forget Sheriff Bart (Cleavon Little) delivering a "Candygram for Mongo?" Or, Madeline Khan! Name one woman sexier than Madeline Khan when she sang "I'm so tired."

It can't be done.

Underlying the whole show you can feel the tug of racism—“Niggers,” “Jews,” “Irish,” “Chinks.” Brooks didn’t miss a single group. The movie’s a comedy, but it’s all about racism, politics, and people coming together to change their own little world.

At the beginning of the movie, the railroad foreman encouraged the work crew to sing a good negro song. "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot" or "Camp Town Lady." The boys didn’t know any of those songs. Instead, they sang "I get no kick from Champagne.”

The foreman tried to get them started by singing a few bars. In no time, his men were singing and dancing around trying to show the blacks, Chinese, and Irish what they wanted. Just as they were getting into it, Slim Pickens, the head honcho rode in and screamed: "about them jumping around and looking like a gang of Kansas City faggots.”

Do you ever wonder where people pick up crazy ideas?

Astronomer Percival Lowell
(Public domain image circa 1908)

You know what I’m talking about - the man on the moon, the canals of Mars, and little green men from outer space.

Back in the late 1890’s to early 1900’s, there was an amateur astronomer named Percival Lowell. He read the works of Camille Flammarion and Giovanni Schiaparelli and became convinced there was life on Mars. Most guys would’ve read a book or two on the subject and let it go at that. Lowell had some extra money jingling around in his pocket and built a full-fledged astronomical observatory to support his obsession.

He searched out the perfect location for it which just happened to be on a hill outside of Flagstaff, Arizona. He named the spot Mars Hill, and over time it developed into the world’s largest private observatory.

Over the years, Lowell penned three books: Mars, 1895; Mars and Its Canals, 1906; and Mars as the Abode of Life, 1908. He mapped out a whole series of canals crisscrossing the planet. Not satisfied with that Lowell developed a theory about an entire civilization forced to the point of extinction on their dying planet.

He rushed to get his observatory completed before 1894. That was when the two planets would draw closest together, and he expected to enjoy a front row seat for the upcoming Martian invasion.