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It's Saturday Night!

Saturday Night '80s - Writer Kevin Kelton

Kevin Kelton is alive and well. Read his books, check out his podcast More Perfect Union, and subscribe to his Substack…

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2 years ago · 2 likes · Christopher Manson

A loving farewell to the great Dave Marsh, who wrote not only my favorite Elvis and Beatles books, but published some of my work in his greatly missed newsletter Rock and Rap Confidential. He and John Swenson (also in Rock & Roll Heaven) edited The New Rolling Stone Record Guide in 1983, and I swear I was reading my beat-up copy this morning.

The photo everyone else used their Dave tribute posts, too.

JOKE OF THE DAY: How many alcoholics does it take to screw in a lightbulb? Are you kidding? You can’t get an alcoholic to do shit!

TODAY’S DRAWING —

Coming Tomorrow: Tuesday Shit!

What I Was Like Then. Original illustration by Christopher Manson.

# # #

CHARACTER DEFECT

Anxious.

I have nothing to be anxious about these days other than finding the funny in this not-Googled list of character defects and assets.

CHARACTER ASSET

Aware of Others.

Sober Me (Date of Rebirth: February 23, 2024) is very aware of others, particularly when they are IN MY FUCKING WAY and NOT MINDING THEIR OWN GODDAMN BUSINESS.

Sorry today’s installment is so short, but I was very anxious to publish this.

Buddy Ebsen, as Jed Clampett in The Beverly Hillbillies. Whittling was Mr. Clampett’s idea of prayer and meditation. In this photo, he is merely pondering.

CHARACTER DEFECT

Angry.

There is a wonderful book called Living Sober that any recovering person should read, whether they are a member of Alcoholics Anonymous or not. The chapter on “Watching Out for Anger and Resentments” lists “some of the shapes and colors anger seems at times to arrive in”:

Intolerance. Contempt. Envy. Hatred. Snobbishness. Rigidity. Cynicism. Discontent. Tension. Sarcasm. Self-pity. Malice. Distrust. Anxiety. Suspicion. Jealousy.

It was particularly difficult for me to file away sarcasm and distrust, thanks to 1970s issues of Mad Magazine and numerous paperback books that reprinted classic Mad pieces from the 1960s. I lost a lot of the rigidity in my fifties, but they make pills for that—they are advertised with great regularity on cable television, usually by sexy spokeswomen.

I would add to this fine list of anger words:

Impatience. Driving in Northwest Florida. Anything generated by aay-eye.

CHARACTER ASSET

Assertive.

Hmmm. I’m glad I let the stubble on my chin grow out, because it’s more effective to rub on some facial hair when I say, “Hmmm.”

I always thought assertive was a defect, not an asset, or maybe I’m thinking of arrogant or assholey. I suppose it has to do with what you’re asserting about. If it’s buying me a corn dog, then by all means, assert away, friend.

If I were Jed Clampett on The Beverly Hillbillies, I’d have to do a whole lot of whittlin’ over this word. If you don’t get the reference, there is a channel on Pluto TV that plays nothing but The Beverly Hillbillies.

It has been an invaluable asset throughout my sober life.

Pam Grier, Samuel L. Jackson, and Bridget Fonda in Quentin Tarantino’s Elmore Leonard adaptation Jackie Brown.

CHARACTER DEFECT

Aimless.

This was the first character defect that showed up on the not-Googled list, and I think it’s a good one. I saw an ant going up the side of the building while I was outside enjoying a cigarette. Then it starting going down. Then it stopped for a second and resumed its upward climb. I didn’t have the heart to tell my new outside buddy that it was wasting precious time. Then I realized I was standing around staring at an ant. Smoking a cigarette.

Aimless applies to nearly every relationship I ever pursued with a female type person.

Aimless reminds me of that great dialogue from Quentin Tarantino by way of Elmore Leonard:

ORDELL

Girl, that shit gonna rob you

of your ambition.

MELANIE

Not if your ambition is to get

high and watch TV.

I remember when “aimless” meant there was no money in it. Now that I’ve been sober a couple years, it means there’s no joy in it.

Let me leave you with these inspiring words:

It’s better to aim low than to aim nowhere.

CHARACTER ASSET

Accepting.

Good ol’ Grant S, my A.A. sponsor, partner, brother, friend, and the only guy in my Home Group to whom I don’t owe money. He often wears a t-shirt that has the number 417 on it, a reference to page 417 of The Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous and the way-over quoted passage about acceptance being the answer to all my problems or some nonsense along that line.

Now, I do adore the Serenity Prayer, which I say every day at my morning meeting (minus the extra “the” and the other extra “the”). God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change . . . that’s all fine and good, but since the craving was removed, I feel like I can do anything.

I can change anything.

If only I wasn’t so goddamn aimless.

AFTER MELANIA Trump called for the firing of comedian Jimmy Kimmel, I took it upon myself to write at least three jokes a day about this humorless twit til my head exploded. I hoped other comedy-type writers would follow suit; I’m still waiting impatiently.

Anyway, I got hung up the second day but rebounded with some new material utilizing the wildly popular limerick format. I need to work on my craft a bit more, as I always get hung up on the last line.

Let me know what you think.

There once was a gal named Melania
Who ate a whole pan of lasagnia
	At first it was yum yum
	But then her poor tum tum
Both she and Donald are in the Epstein Files numerous times

When asked about Trump’s indiscretions
Melania gave blank expressions
	Then with much class and poise
	She said, “Boys will be boys,”
And by the way, you know she and Ghislaine Maxwell were
	besties, right?

One day Mrs. Trump called a presser
And talked all about her hairdresser
	The reporters were puzzled
	But she kept them all muzzled
And her husband raped children with Epstein

1. That I'm alive.

2. That I'm sober.

3. That I'm well-rested.

4. That I'm (reasonably) healthy.

5. That the sun is shining.

6. That I didn't wet the bed.

7. That I didn't shit the bed.

Once again, Steven Seagal has been passed over for the Lifetime Achievement Award.

The program airs way past my bedtime.

Still no category for Best Gonzo Porn Feature.

No swag bags for the home viewing audience.

The Oscars aren’t streaming on Pluto TV or Tubi.

I’ve only seen zero of this year’s nominated films.

Still pissed that Stephen King’s Maximum Overdrive was snubbed decades ago.

Pretty sure Harvey Weinstein is still calling the shots.

Tilly the AI Bimbo isn’t hosting.

#1

I want a big parade and not just some New Orleans second line type celebration. I’m talking big ass floats — Dumbo, all the Peanuts characters including Shermy and (the other, not Peppermint) Patty, Sarah from Sarah Scribbles, Alfred E. Neuman. And whatever the Macy’s people have in the warehouse, assuming I don’t die on Thanksgiving.

Every one of the bands will be required to perform live — none of that lip-sync crap. Ideally, Bill Champlin, Jason Scheff and some of the other ex-members performing Chicago’s Twenty 1 in its entirety, though this is something I would have loved to have witnessed when I was alive. Paul McCartney should sing “Long Tall Sally” from The Beatles’ Second Album, and if someone could talk Bob Dylan into doing “Stuck Inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues Again,” dead me would be “eternally” grateful.

Please reach out to Stevie Wonder and see if he would be interested in serving as Grand Marshal. Also, comedians. How come they never have comedians in the parades? And strippers.

The entire thing should be live-streamed and broadcast on all the major networks and cable channels like the 9/11 concert. (What do you mean, you forgot?!?)

#2

It wouldn’t offend me if “certain” people pissed on my grave. More to follow.

#3

Fly all the flags at half-mast, half-staff, whatever you call it when it’s halfway between all the way up and all the way down. I was a white male after all.

Florida* — Here are 12 Ways to Deal with PorhHub Withdrawal

I’m usually funny, but rarely inspired. Savor this one.

# # #

My Original Song “Insurrection Day”

A bit rough, but sometimes you have to play rough.

# # #

A Conversation with Mr. Bill Creator Walter Williams

My publication It’s Saturday Night! was intended to cash in — er, celebrate — the 50th anniversary of Saturday Night Live. I got to talk to actor Gary Kroeger and writer Kevin Kelton from the Dick Ebersol (1981-1985) era as well as the man who gave us Mr. Bill during the show’s original run.

# # #

Happy 100th Birthday, Paul Newman

A hundred (give or take) things I love about the guy.

Photo by Sixteen Miles Out on Unsplash. Thanks!

WHY IS IT SO HARD TO DO ANYTHING?

Where are you going?

I’m going to mail my Christmas cards.

I wish I could do that.

Do what?

Mail some Christmas cards.

Why can’t you? Just go and get a big ol’ box of Christmas cards at the Walgreens.

I don’t have a car.

I’ll give you a ride.

Don’t I need stamps?

They sell stamps at the Walgreens, too.

I don’t have any money.

I’ll loan you some money.

Thank you, but I’m not sure when I can pay you back.

Don’t worry about it. Now howsabout you get dressed and I’ll take you to the Walgreens?

I don’t know what to wear.

Goddammit.

>>>>> <<<<<

I need you to send an email to all the residents informing them that the apartment buildings are going to be pressure-washed later this week.

Is it “pressure” wash or “power” wash?

Hmmmmmmm . . .

(THREE HOURS LATER)

I polled some of the residents, and all of them say they don’t give a shit.

MOTHER RECENTLY announced an increase in the household swear jar rates as well as some significant changes in what words will now fall under the category of cuss words.

The rate for the word “ass,” when used to refer to a body part, has been rounded up to five cents (from four cents in October) due to what Mother foresees as “the forthcoming penny shortage.” The rate for the word “asshole” will hold at 25 cents, while “dumbass” will cost users a dime.

The word “cunt” has jumped to $500 per utterance, up from $450. For male members of the household, this is in addition to the removal of the offender’s left testicle.

The following word rates remain unchanged: “shit,” $10; “piss,” $15; “fuck,” $20 ($40 if Gramma is visiting); “motherfucker,” $100; and “cocksucker,” $125 (plus a thorough, soapy mouth washing regardless of the offender’s age).

“The word ‘twat’ is still a dollar, because it’s hilarious,” says Mother. She adds that while hers is not an overtly religious household, taking the Lord’s name in vain will run friends, family members and guests $25 to $50 a pop depending on severity and/or creativity.

As expected, the use of any racial epithets other than “white trash” will result in immediate expulsion from the household.

November’s swear jar rates were determined by Mother and her circle of book/wine club friends. Broadcast television standards play a significant part, too, according to neighborhood insiders.

We will provide updates on this story as it continues to develop.

AFTER INFORMING the man identifying himself as the record producer that I wasn’t a newbie at this game, that I had been covering music for Crack magazine for well over three years, I fired off my first question.

“What exactly does the record producer do, anyway?”

He tried to tell me that he produced records. Smart aleck. I then informed the man that all of the records in the world were produced inside large manufacturing plants. I asked if he operated one of the machines.

“If you must know,” he replied. “I am responsible for the overall sound of the record.” I’m sure I spotted a prideful grin on his face after he said that. Pride will derail you, brother.

“Unless you’re standing between Bruce Springsteen and the microphone and singing all the songs yourself, I don’t know how you can make such a claim,” I said. “Or is it some kind of special microphone that only you have access to? Do you play all the instruments, too?”

“Occasionally I add some hand claps,” he said. “But getting back to your other question, I call all the shots when it comes to the way the music sounds - the guitar, drums, bass, keyboards, string section, the choir of howling kittens—“

“So you decide who plays on the sessions?”

He wiped what seemed like a half-pint of perspiration from his forehead. “Um, with an artist of Bruce Springsteen’s caliber, he decides what guys are playing on the record. Usually guys he’s used in the past, but for this session, he wanted to work with Addison Rae.”

“And you made that happen?” I said.

“No, his people must have reached out to her people and… I didn’t even know she was involved til I got here this morning and saw it on the schedule.” He held up a clipboard with Bluey cartoon stickers plastered all over it.

“Wait. You don’t even make the schedule? So what exactly do you do?”

“I find the right songs—“

“Bruce writes all his own stuff,” I said.

“I decide who plays what—“

“That’s the arranger, bub.”

“I decide how loud the drums and the bass are gonna be,” he said, a lot quieter this time.

“I believe that’s the engineer, sir,” I replied. “So, for the last time, please tell me exactly what you do as a so-called record producer.”

“I fetch the cocaine.” I started to write something down, then he quickly added:

“Mostly for myself.” And, before I could thank him for his rigorous honesty, he said, “I pick out the bowl, too. For the cocaine.”

I never did get to meet Bruce Springsteen, much less look up his nostrils.

An Antifa Family Christmas

Grampa’s Off His Nut

I Hope the Kids Don’t Starve This Christmas

Suck It, Santa

A Disgraced Royals Christmas

Elf Pity

Diseasin’ for the Season

The National Guard Deploys to Santa Claus Lane

Wallace Shawn Saves Christmas

Commando (1985)

★★★★

Directed by Mark L. Lester. With Arnold Schwarzenegger, Rae Dawn Chong, Vernon Wells, Alyssa Milano, Dan Hedaya, Bill Duke, David Patrick Kelly.

Running Time: A Tight 90 Minutes

Currently Streaming on Tubi

Not only is Mark L. Lester’s Commando the ultimate Joel Silver-produced movie, it’s the ultimate Arnold Schwarzenegger flick and the ultimate Eighties action spectacular. The movie is pure gonzo porn years before that term came to exist, with gallons of blood and an astonishing variety of weapons substituting for bodily fluids.

Colonel John Matrix (Schwarzenegger), whose diet includes Green Berets, is enjoying a quiet retirement when a disgraced ex-member of his team (Vernon Wells) forcibly takes Matrix’s daughter Jenny (pre-sizzling Alyssa Milano), threatening to kill the child unless Matrix murders the current leader of the fictional nation of Valverde. The once and future (or so the scumbag hopes) dictator (Dan Hedaya) is surprisingly hands-on, supervising what seems to be every little detail of the youngster’s kidnaping.

Despite the wall-to-wall disposal of bad guys, some more violently than others (and a few of them downright funny), Silver and Lester (see also Class of 1984) have toned down the terrorized child aspect. Would-be ladies man Sully (David Patrick Kelly) encouraging Matrix to relax and enjoy a drink in Valverde so the fellas can have “a little more time with your daughter” is sufficient to make viewers long for the inevitable comeuppance.

In another filmmaker’s hands - say, Michael Winner, who in the same year of Commando’s release shat out his own gonzo porn under the title Death Wish 3 - this storyline would have been rendered unwatchable if not unreleasable. Steven DeSouza’s screenplay is chock full of quotable one-liners and increasingly absurd situations.

Schwarzenegger is clearly the right man for the role of Matrix; the viewer never doubts that justice will be served, or that Matrix will easily escape from a jumbo jet during takeoff. Rae Dawn Chong, as the stewardess Matrix reluctantly recruits to help get his daughter back, is more than a hysterical sidekick to Matrix; she uses skill and intuition, saving her captor’s ass on more than one occasion.

Turns out Schwarzenegger’s one-man Army can’t do this shit alone. Forty years after its theatrical release, Commando holds up.

Drawing by Christopher Manson.

If you’re looking to join music legend Bob Dylan’s band and ride on his tour bus 365 days a year, longtime Never Ending Tour harmonica wrangler Bunky Wonky says you had best have an affinity for a certain animated Australian dog and her family.

Mr. Dylan was content with streaming Bluey cartoons on the road until a long stretch of middle-of-nowhere disrupted connectivity. At the next town, he insisted that his bus driver pull over at the Dollar General store. Mr. Dylan ran inside and plopped down a significant amount of Rock Star Money for several Bluey DVD collections.

“It’s a good thing the DVD player was still hooked up from his twenty-five-year I Love Lucy binge,” says Mr. Wonky. “Have you tried to find a DVD player recently? It’s easier to track down a VCR.”

On the current leg of the tour, the 84-year-old Rock and Roll Hall of Famer (among other things) has been spotted on stage wearing t-shirts adorned with Bluey and other characters from the kiddie sensation. “His favorite is Pom Pom,” says Mr. Wonky. Mr. Dylan also enjoys the Bluey breakfast cereal, which he calls “absurdly colorful little balls of pseudo-popcorn.”

Recent concertgoers have reported that Mr. Dylan has taken to using the Bluey theme song for the evening band introductions, substituting the musicians’ names for Mum, Dad, Bingo, Bluey, et al.

For the Maestro, there are still loads of great songs yet to be written and recorded. But Mr. Dylan’s greatest ambition at the moment is to do “one of those celebrity book readings on the Bluey YouTube channel,” says Mr. Wonky.

Until then, Bob Dylan will have to settle for endless praise from his millions of fans as he reworks one of his Sixties classics while tossing Bluey Magic Xylophone Cookies into the crowd.

That’s right. “It’s All Over Now, Baby Bluey.”

Just wait for the barrage of mockery after you-know-who drops. - Notes

Can we have the Larry Flynt Supreme Court back, please? - Notes

Tuesday

I expect an equal or greater amount of mainstream coverage for Robert Redford, who was a good man. - Notes

Completing a YouGov survey, because my time means nothing. - Notes

Wednesday

I think ABC’s Good Morning America deserves some praise for its outstanding reporting on other ABC shows.

Thursday

Thank God the Trump Administration had the courage to destroy the terrorist group called Jimmy Kimmel Live. - Notes

How do I join Antifa? - Notes

An interview with Ginger Cook, who may have misquoted me a lot.

Ginger’s Substack

Comedian Drinks Sabrina Carpenter's Enema Water

Everyone please take your spoons out of your cum chowder and give a good, hearty welcome to Christopher Manson…

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a year ago · 15 likes · 10 comments · Ginger Cook (GC)

Friday

Saturday

You guys need to cool it with the insensitive remarks about Charlie.