It’s the season, man, and my oh my, how I do adore cherry pie….(Hey, Now)

The projector is broken, so no show today. We’ll be back on Monday for Stanley Kubrick Week. The plan is to do a theme week in this space, if not every week, then every other week. So if you’ve got any suggestions, feel free to let us know and we’ll do our best to soup it up. It doesn’t have to only be for an actor or a director. It could be for a cinematographer or just a theme–Worst Date Movies, Laugh-Out-Loud Movies, Best Late Night Movies–you name it.

Whadda ya hear, whadda ya say?

You can get with this:

Or you can get with that:

The Choice is Yours.

I grew up with the Roger Moore Bond but think Connery was vastly superior.

John Buscema

This is one of my favorite comic book covers…

Shaved ice gets fancy.

[Photo Credit: Life Magazine]

This one isn’t in the new book of boxing poetry and song lyrics but still, Uncle L’s crossover hit is still worth dropping here:

Grandmaster of the day…

Neil Adams

There’s no shortage of good boxing movies. We’ve talked about that in the past. But what about laughs? Welp, dig these two funny boxing scenes from the masters: Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton. Watching them again, they are a decent example of how different Chaplin and Keaton were stylistically.

First, from City Lights:

And from one of Keaton’s lesser features, The Battling Butler:

Another boxing beat:

…For the Brown Bomber:

Another Comic Book Grandmaster: Steve Ditko.

Boxing Week continues…

Ticket Dealer: [to manager, referring to Homer] That overweight guy wants to see the movie.

Manager: I’m terribly sorry, sir, but I’m afraid our facilities are not equipped to meet your needs.

Homer Simpson: What are you talking about?

Manager: What I’m saying, sir, is that a man of your carriage couldn’t possibly fit in our seats.

Homer Simpson: I can sit in the aisle.

Manager: I’m afraid that would violate the fire code.

Bystander: Hey, Fatty! I’ve got a movie for ya: A Fridge Too Far!

While we’re on the topic of sweet junk…

Popcorn, raisinets, ju ju bes, twizzlers, sour patch kids…

How do you roll when you go to the movies?

I like to strap a feedbag on and eat popcorn like that. Sometimes, I’ll have something chocolate cause I’m a surf n turf kind of guy.

My mother, old Johnny Appleseed herself, loved to take us camping as kids. I didn’t like it then and I don’t like it now, much to my wife’s chagrin. Emily is a country mouse and loves the idea of camping out underneath the stars. I’ve adopted the Woody Allen front, complaining about mosquitos and owls and nature.

About the only thing that sounds appealing about camping is making smores, and I don’t even love them either. I mean, what good are graham crackers anyway?  But some people are knuts for smores (fortunately, if I ever get a craving I don’t need to go camping to have ’em). My wife thinks they are heavenly.

What about you? Do smores melt you where it counts?

[Photo Credit: Sun-Sentinel and TLC]

How about a week of American comic book artists? Let’s start with the master, Jack Kirby:

In celebration of the recent publication of The Fighter Still Remains: A Celebration of Boxing in Poetry and Song from Zevon to Ali (edited by George Kimbal and John Schulian), let’s do a week of boxing tunes.

First up, a classic:

This’d make a nice, quick lunch. Thank you, Mr. B.

Here’s the recipe.

The first rated “R” movie I ever saw in the theater was Neighbors, a not-so-funny John Belushi/Dan Ackroyd comedy. Came around the time of my parent’s separation. The high school daughter of my dad’s best friend took my brother, sister and me. When it was over, I asked her what it meant to pork someone and she refused to tell me, said I’d find out soon enough (which was the opposite of finding out soon enough as far as I was concerned).

A few months later, I saw Shoot the Moon, a relentlessly grim movie about divorce. I was obsessed with seeing it and begged the adults I knew to take me. Finally, I got my cousin Deborah to bring me to see it. It was a heavy movie for an eleven-year-old–it’s a heavy movie for a grown up–but life was heavy at that moment. And much of it rang true–the emotional violence, the sadness, the confusion and messiness of it all.

So? What was your first rated “R” movie? Were your parents uptight or liberal when it came to such things? Whadda ya hear, whadda ya say?

It’s muggy in the Rotten Apple.

Take a bite out of this:

Yo, Matt Garza…

Free South Africa, By Keith Haring (1985)

Keith Haring used to have a boutique just south of Houston Street called The Pop Shop. I remember they used to sell enormous versions of this poster for a buck (man, I should have bought a dozen of ’em). I had one hanging in my room, which made for stimulating conversation with my mother who was raised in the Belgian Congo. Picture me, the young, know-it-all New York Liberal vs an apolitical mother who was raised by Colonialists. We could have guest starred on Piper’s Pit.

Still, the picture endures…