“Holiday” is playing this afternoon at 1:30 at the Modern.

In the words of the immortal Oscar Madison, “Now it’s garbage.”

Hey, Leroy, You’re Mama’s callin’:

It is dark and wet this morning so let’s get right to some nourishment of the sinful kind. The New York Times gives a tour of the best doughnut shops in town.

[Photo Credit: NY Mag and Good Point]

I’m tired and grouchy today, and Alex told me I was having an Oscar Madison kind of sports writing day. Which I am. This got us on a stream-of-consciousness email thread that moved naturally onto Jack Lemmon and led to our discovery of the following facts:

-Alex can’t stand Billy Wilder’s “The Apartment,” which in case you haven’t seen it, is awesome;

-He thinks Alfred Hitchcock is overrated;

-He doesn’t like Jimmy Stewart;

-He didn’t come right out and say it, but I assume he hates puppies and picks his teeth with their adorable little bones.

Meanwhile, I don’t like Faulkner and am kind of bored by Buster Keaton.

Pistols at dawn.

What do your friends or loved ones inexplicably dislike?

When I was in high school, I went to Carnegie Hall one night to see the guitarist Stanley Jordan. Also on the bill was a guy named Bobby McFerrin, who put on a sensational show that I remember vividly to this day. Not too long after, he had a hit song and video. “Don’t Worry, Be Happy,” came and went but McFerrin continued to have a productive and fascinating career. He’s a singular talent.

I always dug this tune:

Fluffy Vanilla Marshmellows? Vhy d’hell not?

Seven Spoons gets chunky mit de flavor.

Thanks to Subway Art Blog, dig the work of Enrico Miguel Thomas–the subway artist of New York.

Mr. Verdoux, I presume?

From Matthew Sweet in the Guardian:

In a bomb-proof concrete vault beneath one of the more moneyed stretches of Switzerland lies something better than bullion. Here, behind blast doors and security screens, are stored the remains of one of the greatest figures of the 20th century. You might wonder what more there is to know about Charles Spencer Chaplin. Born in London in 1889; survivor of a tough workhouse childhood; the embodiment of screen comedy; fugitive from J Edgar Hoover; the presiding genius of The Kid and The Gold Rush and The Great Dictator. His signature character, the Little Tramp, was once so fiercely present in the global consciousness that commentators studied its effects like a branch of epidemiology. In 1915, “Chaplinitis” was identified as a global affliction. On 12 November 1916, a bizarre outbreak of mass hysteria produced 800 simultaneous sightings of Chaplin across America.

Though the virus is less contagious today, Chaplin’s face is still one of the most widely recognised images on the planet. And yet, in that Montruex vault, there is a wealth of material that has barely been touched. There are letters that evoke his bitter estrangement from America in the 1950s. There are reel-to-reel recordings of him improvising at the piano (“I’m so depressed,” he trills, groping his way towards a tune that rings right). A cache of press cuttings details the British Army’s banning of the Chaplin moustache from the trenches of the first world war. Other clippings indicate that, in the early 1930s, he considered returning to his homeland and entering politics.

Allen Barra on the new Bogie bio:

[Pauline] Kael put words to the image in her book Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (1968) when she explained Bogart as “The man with a code (moral, aesthetic, chivalrous) in a corrupt society, he had, so to speak, inside knowledge of the nature of the enemy. He was a sophisticated urban version of The Westerner, who, classically, knew both sides of the law.”

He was, of course, faking it. As Stefan Kanfer makes clear in his new biography Tough Without A Gun: The Life and Extraordinary Afterlife of Humphrey Bogart, Bogart’s ancestors were more like characters in The Philadelphia Story than the ones in movies that Bogie himself would become famous in. “In the 150 year history of cinema,” as Kanfer puts it, “few performers have arrived with a more impressive resume of monetary privilege and social distinction.”

Thanks to the good people at Saveur, I found this great site, that is digging through the old Gourmet Magazine archives. Food Porn at it’s (dated) best.

Webster v Young

Drawings by Robert Weaver, spring training, 1962.

This morning, Jack Curry tweeted that he arrived at his 20th spring training and the first thing he heard was the thud of a ball hitting a mitt. Color me green with envy.

Picture by Bags

At Diner’s Journal, Edward Schneider writes about Pizza with no sauce but plenty of flavor.

Here’s a couple of reviews of the new Salinger biography from the New York Times. The first, from Michiko Kakutani:

This volume, “J. D. Salinger: A Life,” which draws liberally from Salinger’s letters and a memoir by his daughter, Margaret, is flawed by a tendency to assume direct correspondences between the author’s life and work. And it retraces a lot of ground covered in earlier books by Ian Hamilton and Paul Alexander. Still, it does so without the sort of condescending and at times voyeuristic speculation that hobbled those earlier biographies, and it does an evocative job of tracing the evolution of Salinger’s work and thinking.

And the Sunday Book Review write-up by Jay Mcinerney:

For this reader, the great achievement of Slawenski’s biography is its evocation of the horror of Salinger’s wartime experience. Despite Salinger’s reticence, Sla wenski admirably retraces his movements and recreates the savage battles, the grueling marches and frozen bivouacs of Salinger’s war. It’s hard to think of an American writer who had more combat experience. He landed on Utah Beach on D-Day. Slawenski reports that of the 3,080 members of Salinger’s regiment who landed with him on June 6, 1944, only 1,130 survived three weeks later. Then, when the 12th Infantry Regiment tried to take the swampy, labyrinthine Hürtgen Forest, in what proved to be a huge military blunder, the statistics were even more horrific. After reinforcement, “of the original 3,080 regimental soldiers who went into Hürtgen, only 563 were left.” Salinger escaped the deadly quagmire of Hürtgen just in time to fight in the Battle of the Bulge, and shortly thereafter, in 1945, participated in the liberation of Dachau. “You could live a lifetime,” he later told his daughter, “and never really get the smell of burning flesh out of your nose.”

…Salinger always told friends he was still writing, and it’s possible there’s a trove of unpublished stories and novels, although readers of “Hapworth,” in which he seems to be talking to himself rather than to fans of “The Catcher in the Rye,” may wonder whether they wish to see it. “J. D. Salinger: A Life” leaves this and many other questions hanging. Though Slawenski adds to the record, Paul Alexander’s biography is, to my mind, more dramatically vivid and psychologically astute.

There will probably never be a definitive biography of Salinger, but our understanding will be modified by the actions of his executors and the release of unpublished material in the coming years. For the moment, at least, Holden’s creator might take some satisfaction in knowing the extent to which his efforts to erase his own story have succeeded.

Couldn’t resist.

He didn’t come cheap, but the Knicks finally got their man.

Over at ESPN, Mike Wilpon likes the deal for the Knicks:

Anybody who says the Knicks traded away too much is nuts; they clearly upgraded at point guard, and if Gallinari, Mozgov, Wilson Chandler and Raymond Felton were that good, the Knicks would have been better than 28-26 at the break.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not suggesting the Knicks are going to represent the Eastern Conference in the NBA Finals this June. They won’t. What I am saying is they’ve got pieces, good ones, enough to be a credible team by the end of March. They’ve got two top-15 players, perhaps two top-10 players, which is something the Knicks couldn’t truthfully say during the Patrick Ewing days and probably since the championship days of the early 1970s, if then.

SI’s Ian Thomsen adds:

Did the Knicks give up too much?

Look at it this way. They weren’t planning to re-sign Wilson Chandler (who went to Denver) as a free agent this summer, because they were planning on using his cap space to sign Anthony as a free agent. So that means Chandler wasn’t part of their future.

They had signed Raymond Felton (who went to Denver) to a two-year contract. And now in this trade they’re receiving Billups as his replacement at point guard for the short term. So that’s a wash.

So now it comes down to forward Danilo Gallinari, Mozgov, the Knicks’ 2014 pick in the first round and a pair of second-round picks in 2012 and 2013 to Denver for Anthony (along with Shelden Williams, Anthony Carter and Renaldo Balkman). Is that such a bad deal?

Awww, look out now.

Pop.

David Park.

Silliness…