Doin' the Double-Dutch

All week long the radio has been talking about the sighting of the first robin of spring. Big deal, I saw a robin back in February. Long dead and frozen to the ground. Didn't mean it was spring.

With the temperatures in the 80s this week, it certainly felt like spring. But I don't need a calender or the sight of a robin to tell me when it is officially spring-time. It's the sight of little girls skipping. Not that feminine version of running that Judy Garland does so well as she heads down the Yellow Brick Road headed towards OZ - but the kind that involves skipping ropes held by someone at either end and someone jumping up and down in the middle.

I saw four of the little darlings down the street doing it on Tuesday so I ran over, shoved the skipping girl out from between the ropes, started jumping double-dutch and taught them a new skipping song - My mother/And your mother/Were hanging up the clothes/My mother punched your mother/Right in the nose.

Well, of course they were all delighted to hear that and asked for another one. Okay - Hello operator/Get me number nine/If you don't connect my party/I'll kick you in the /Hello operator ...

Ah kids.

You know, I happened to be at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremonies a few weeks ago (Patti Smith invited me as her guest if you really must know,) and everyone was going on about how Grandmaster Flash was the original rapper. Because he was also being inducted and I guess we always want to have someone to blame. Anyways, what a load of crap. Anyone who knows anything about rap music knows that it wasn't born in the black inner-city ghetto neighbourhoods of New York in the 1980s, but rather by little girls - both black and white - on the sidewalks of the suburbs of Jersey in the late 1950s and early 60s.

Seeing those girls down the street the other day only confirmed it for me. Mind you, their raps weren't as good as the ones from when I was a kid. In fact, they mostly sounded like nine-year-olds chanting Gwen Stefani songs.

Sadly, kids today have lost a lot of their heritage when it comes to proper skipping accompaniment. And to help rectify this situation, I left them with a popular long-lost skipping rap from my own childhood - Everybody's doin' it, doin' it, doin' it/Pickin' their nose and chewin' it, chewin' it, chewin it' ...

That's when they asked me to leave.

The Importance of Being Ernest

In honor of this weekend's London Ontario International Film Festival of Canadian Movies, Sonny Drysdale Productions presents a tribute to Jim Varney, best known as 'Ernest P. Worrell' a.k.a. that 'Hey, Vern' guy.

Varney was not a Canadian. However, he did have a big effect on the new generation of Canadian film-makers who have come along since his death a mere seven years ago. Not only a comic genius, he was also a cinematic visionary.

Audiences got their first exposure to Varney - not as 'Ernest' - but on television as truck-driver/part-time country & western singer 'Virgil Sims' on Martin Mull's talk-show parody, Fernwood 2-Nite back in the late 1970s. He was a regular guest and would often sing his country classic, If I'da Know'd You'da Wanna Go Wit Me, I'da See'd That Ya Got Git Go.

Shortly afterwards, he created 'Ernest P. Worrell' and appeared in hundreds of low-budget regional TV commercials, talking to the never-seen 'Vern,' and selling everything from used cars to eggs - capping off each pitch with his catch-phrase, "Know what I mean?" The character became so popular that it led to a film career of close to 20 Ernest movies.

As an actor, he has been unfairly seen as a one-trick pony. But his talent was indisputable. Just check out his thousands of line-readings for "Hey, Vern." With just those two short monosyllables, he captures the imbicilic spirit in a way that hadn't been seen since Curly Howard. His influence as an actor can be seen on television shows on everything from Patrick French on 3rd Rock From the Sun to that 'Urkel' guy on Family Matters to Andy Richter on every sitcom he's done.

However, it is Varney's work as a cinematic wunderkind for which he is remembered. Just like all great auteurs - Orson Welles, Martin Scorcese, John Hughes - Varney liked to work with his own repertory company of actors - his dog Rimshot and that duo of weirdos - the fat bossy guy and that creepy silent toothless skinny old man.

Like most auteur, who prefer to work with the same trusted cinematographer, Varney went one step better by hiring the same director, John Cherry, in order to keep the Ernest vision intact.

Like the Duke, Clint Eastwood and Bogie, he wore the same outfit in every movie - baseball cap, tool-belt, a denim vest over a white T-shirt and jeans. He is instantly recognizable and thus becomes an incarnation of the "Everyman."

The recurring central theme which runs throughout his movies is that incompetence will always triumph and that being a self-deluded Know-it-all is our best defence for surviving in this post-atomic age. Surprisingly, it is delivered as a message of hope and optimism.

The result of all this myth-making is a truly impressive body of work. Noteworthy are Ernest Saves Christmas (1988) and Ernest Scared Stupid (1991.) However, it could be argued that Varney reached his artistic nadir in 1990 with Ernest Goes to Jail - probably the most brilliant comic masterpiece since Jerry Lewis' The Nutty Professor.

In Ernest Goes to Jail, Varney plays dual roles as Ernest and his evil-twin - a death-row gangster. Anyone who has seen the original Nutty Professor or Mike Myers as 'Austin' and 'Dr. Evil' or Norbit or the old Patty Duke Show, will know that this is no easy feat for an actor. Although his last projects were straight-to-video, since he was only 50 when he died, who knows what else the future may have held.

But to understand Jim Varney - philosopher and comic-guru - we must first look at his alter-ego and creation, Ernest P. Worrell. Ernest follows in the tradition of all great galoots. Varney tackles his role with the same wide-eyed enthusiasm as George 'Goober' Lindsey or Max 'Jethro' Baer. He's named 'Ernest' because just like those two, he earnestly believes that he is God's gift to civilization - but sadly, no one else has realized that yet.

Even sadder tho is that even today there are some who have not yet realized how important Varney is to the world of film. True, on the surface, his films appear to be stupid - but no more so than anything made by Adam Sandler or David Cronenberg. Better yet, there's nothing overtly pretentious about them. They don't pretend to be anything but shamelessly moronic entertainment.

But that perception has been changing as the public and film industry being to appraise Varney in a new light. At the Sundance Film Festival this year, young independent film-makers were openly citing Varney as a major influence. Hollywood mavericks like Zack '300' Snyder and Frank 'Sin City' Miller and Sofia Coppola have been quoted in the press to having "copped an Ernest," in their most recent films. The University of Beverly Hills offers a film-studies course in 'Ernestism.' Needless to say, he's adored in France.

And it is all in recognition of his greatest contribution to modern cinema - for pioneering that in-your-face style of film-making/acting. Because by shoving his face right into the camera lens, it is as if he's peering right out of the screen into our very souls. At us.

We are him. He is us. And we are all together.

Know what I mean?

New Revelations Clear George Bush of 9-11 Involvement

Recent admissions of guilt by Al-Queda leader Khalid Sheikh Mohammed have cast new doubts about President George Bush's role in the 9-11 attacks on the World Trade Towers in New York City and the Pentagon in 2001. They have also exonerated Osama bin Laden of any involvement.

"I am responsible for the 9-11 operation from A to Z," Mohammed told a military tribunal at Guantanamo Bay on Thursday. He also claimed credit for the 2002 Bali bombings, the 1993 World Trade Centre attempted bombing, the attack on Pearl Harbour and the beheading of journalist Daniel Pearl.

Mohammed then claimed responsibility for plots to assassinate Pope John Paul and former American presidents Jimmy Carter & Bill Clinton, for buying the plane ticket and a new pair of Tom McCann 'Back to School' specials for that Shoe-Bomber guy - and about 20 other plots that were never carried out. He also admitted to double-parking twice in one day in New York City and once claiming to have lost a library book rather than having to pay the late fees.

This latest news casts doubts that all of the above atrocities can still be attributed to reputed Al-Queda head-honcho Osama bin Laden.

As Mohammed told the military tribunal, "Oh sure, Osama is a nice guy and a good spiritual leader, but as for doing the kind of planning, homework and backgrounding that I've done to pull off at least two of these plots, well, he just doesn't have it. Let's face it, Osama couldn't put together a grocery list and then come back from the supermarket with everything on it - let alone devise a plan for mass destruction and then carry it off."

"Look, we were lucky to run those Ruskies out of Afghanistan back in the '80s after Osama showed up to 'help,' " continued Mohammed. "Thank Allah, at least he brought his Dad's wallet."

As he was led out of the secret courtroom, Mohammed could be heard loudly chanting, "In your face, Osama! Those 72 virgins are mine." And then cackling diabolically like a crazed criminal mastermind, "Mine! All mine, bah-hah-ha!"

Mohammed also claimed to have prepared assassination threats on Pakistan's President Pervez Musharraf, scene-maker Henry Kissinger, CNN 'personality' Anderson Cooper, planned suicide bombings on every Israeli embassy throughout the world and fixing the 1928 World Series.

Military-intelligence authorities however remain skeptical of Mohammed's claims to have regularly short-sheeted George W. Bush's bed while they were both attending Harvard in the 1970s.

Arcadia Fire Puts Out New Record

Get into my car last night to go to work and FM96 is on the radio. There's what sounds like a half-decent song on so I don't turn it off. Or switch to John Tesh. In fact, my first guess was that it was a new Smashing Pumpkins song.

Turns out it was Windowsills by Arcadia Fire. A band of which I've only glanced upon their music videos for a few seconds before moving on. But I know that David Boughey is a fan so I figure they must have something going for them.

Anyway, it turns out that this is from their long-awaited second album and that I'm listening to a show called "Indie Beat." The host then goes on and on about how when she first listened to Acadia Fire's new Neon Bible CD, how she could really hear the Bruce Springsteen influence. And how quickly she picked up on the sound of the Boss on the new songs and that they must have been listening to him a lot in the past year before going into the recording studio.

The key phrase being "Bruce Springsteen." ... And I'm thinking - Oh, shut up. I read the same reviews in the weekend papers that you did. You don't have to act like you invented it.

But the thing is - and this is why I never believe music reviewers anymore - this music didn't even sound like Springsteen. In fact, how can anyone even pretend to be profound on such a subject?

It was obvious to me that these guys were rippin' off the second CD by The Killers.

Video Dance Party 2-Nite LIVE!

In honor of the Toronto appearance of The Pipettes, tonight at 8:00, SonnyDrysdalePresents will be hosting a Pipettes video dance party for those too unfortunate to venture down the 401 to the Rivoli in Hipsterville East to catch the ladies in their first North American appearance.

Please note - from this point on, anything you see in bold print with the first words being SONNY LIVE" followed by the time - all of that was done in 'real time' via the magic of the Internet. .... And away, we go....


SONNY LIVE - 8:00 - Hey, no one's in the chat! Oh well, everyone probably wants to make a "fashionably-late entrance." I know I do when I go to a party.
For those unfamiliar with the girls-in-polka-dots, here's a little taste -

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wQnobTsMnx0

Oops, that ain't them. Wrong video - hey, those chicks are rippin' off the Pipettes.

Here's the correct link - Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please. There is a new rock group in the house. Their name - The Pipettes. As the Teen Tycoon of Rock, I know I'd like to hear them and I'm sure you would too - the Pipettes.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZlZUOOnJ5hU

Yeah, that's more like it

SONNY LIVE - 8:10 - "Clap your hands if you want some more," - but be sure to click on 'WATCH AGAIN' --- if not, hit your 'BACK' key to get back to the Happening, but do NOT close the YouTube window.

As you can see - an homage to the girl groups of the early 1960s. The Shangri-La's, the Supremes, the Ronettes, the Shrillelles, the Dreamgirls - I love this stuff even if I've heard it before by the Bangles, the Go-Go's, Pandora's Box and Blondie on their first album and a half.
Like all those other great girl bands, the Pipettes say they are on a mission "to turn back the clock to a time before the Beatles ruined everything."


SONNY LIVE - 8:14 - I don't care if it isn't the most original thing I've ever heard - these girls are FUN. Gotta love the Fun Girls.

But enough talk, here's some more rock - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QQu7la0n_34


SONNY LIVE - 8:19 - Not nuts about the song overall - but I LUV those ethereal otherworldly solos by the Pipette with the platinum-Marilyn Monroe 'do.
Her name is 'GWENNO Pipette. They all have the same last name - just like the Ramones or the Osmonds. How cool is that?
I predict that when the girls make it big next year, Gwenno will be the first to go solo. With a first name like 'Gwenno,' how could she not? And with those looks, she doesn't even need a last name.
Okay, I'll just come out and say it - she's gonna be the next Madonna.

SONNY LIVE - 8:32 - Hey, there's no one in the chat. I'm gonna go have a smoke to kill time while people arrive. Just throw your coats on the bed and leave your galoshes in the boothall. Beer in fridge, next to the peanut butter.

So be sure to drop by - there just might be some surprises. And there just might be prizes for those who can find the non-Pipettes video in the line-up. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CM6y_fM9QSE


SONNY LIVE - 8:42 - That last one was for you, Kid Dork. I like to give credit (or blame,) where it's due.

Still not much action in the Chat (a.k.a. 'Comments' section here on the blog,) but lots of private messages via the e-mail re: the 'surprise' guest appearence video tonight. And just to make myself clear - I said there "just might" be prizes for the correct answer.

SONNY LIVE - 8:50 - Not much going on in the chat - but when I was out for a smoke on the porch, I heard someone in the next apartment say thru their open windows - "Sure - it's not so much blogging a live event in real time per se - as it is a piece of Performance Art. " ... Well, at least someone gets it.


Sonny will be blogging this EVENT live so feel free to drop by and chat in almost-real time by posting in the 'Comments' section.

Are we excited yet? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qycZxUcsKRk

SONNY LIVE - 8:54 - Re: that 'Dirty Mind' song that just played - didn't the Bangles or someone do this song before? Only with different lyrics but the same melody?

SONNY LIVE - 8:59 - Still no one in the Chat. Where is everybody? Oh well, I guess Saturday night just isn't a good night for a party.

SONNY LIVE - 9:02 - Well, all in all, that was a pretty good party. A bit short. After an hour, the party's already over and I'm still working on my second mar-tune-ee. Well, that's a first. ... Still, it's better than my last party. My family-reunion Christmas party ended with me and Mavis standing on the coffee table, holding hands and doing an impromptu duet of 'But Baby, It's Cold Outside.'

Anyways, I'd just like to take this opportunity to thank everyone for coming. Sure, not much happenin' in the Chat - but lots of positive feedback via the personal messaging thing. We really must do this again some time.

But I'm whipped. Think I might just turn things down a notch and chill out with some lo-fi. Maybe crank things up a bit later. Maybe kick it with some 'old school.' Hey, everyone like Destiny's Child?


"It's my happening, baby - and it's freakin' me out, man!"

SONNY LIVE - 9:09 - Say 'goodnight' Z-Man.

Z-Man - "Ohhh, take me in your arms, sweet Morpheus!"

SONNY LIVE - 9:10 - Yo, Zed - just say 'goodnight.'

Z-Man - 9:10:05 - Goodnight sweet prince and princes and princesses, wherever and whomever you may be.

I Hate Michael Patterson

He haunts my dreams. He boldly strides thru my nightmares. He even inhabits my waking hours. From my vantage point from the last stool at the bar at the Press Club, I watch him - Mister Pefect, holding court, expounding on his views on global warming, talking about how cute his kids are, choking up a bit when he talks about how he misses Farley the dog. Even buying the occassional round of drinks and listening attentively to some loser freelancer bitching about how hard it is to get a break in this one-horse/one media-outlet town. ... As if he cares.

But from where I sit, I know what he's really saying as he sounds off about how we should all give Stephane Dion a chance. He looks right at me and tho the words that hit the back of my skull don't match the lip movements to what is coming out of his mouth, I know he is talking to ME. ... "Ohhhh, I'm Michael Patterson - and I'm soooooo cool. And you're not."

That's just one of the reasons I hate Michael Patterson. But the main reason is that everything in his career has come so easy to Mike. He's never had to pay his dues. And as a member of this business we call 'writ' - well, I kinda resent that fact.

Everyone knows Mike. Everyone loves Mike. He's the eldest child of Elly and John Patterson in For Better or For Worse, the comic strip that runs in the funnies in most of the daily newspapers in North America and probably the world. He's also a journalism grad from the University of Western Ontario (even tho he spent much of his time in town at the Ceeps with his room-mate 'Weed.' No need to guess where long-hair pony-tailed Weed got his nick-name.)

But after graduating from J-School at U.W.O., Michael became a successful freelance writer, a staff-writer for Portrait Magazine, a glossy national mag version of Toronto Life, where his first assignment - a cover story on a fashion celebrity was deemed too "critical" by the advertisers and so he was fired.

That article tho, led to a major journalism award which launched his career as a freelance writer in high demand who could pick and choose what he wanted to work on. Not long after that, he was invited to return to Portrait as Editor-in-chief - even tho he had absolutely no experience as a magazine editor.

While working full-time at the magazine, he kept up on his freelance work and penned his first book. Did I happen to mention that during all this time, he was a newly-wed with two toddlers running around while he's writing at home?

As a "quasi-journalist," do I need any more reason to hate Michael Patterson?

Well, here's another. Just recently, after surviving a fire that destroyed his house (but sadly not his lap-top,) Michael sent off his unsolicited book manuscript to the first publisher that came to his mind. In two weeks, the mail brought him a package containing a letter of acceptance, a contract, assurances that his book would be a best-seller, a commitment to buy and print his unwritten second book - and a $25,000 advance. For a first novel no less. A Canadian novel. And all this without an agent.

As anyone reading this blog will know from personal experience, unless your name is Tom Clancy or Stephen King or Howard Englebloom, in real life, it just doesn't work that way. But the non-writers who read the strip actually believe that's how it happens. And it makes the rest of us real writers look bad. I can't count the number of times where I've been at a wedding, funeral or reunion and some well-intentioned relative comes up and starts asking how my novel about the post-resurrection life of Jesus is coming along and then she brings up the name of "you know, that boy in For Better or For Worse - you should write a book like he did. Or maybe ask him to write it for you! Ha-ha." ... I have to put up with this kinda crap on a daily basis.

Now, I know what some non-writers out there in blog.land may be thinking - "But Sonny, lighten up. He's only a cartoon character. Isn't it kinda petty to be taking out your frustrations on a nice guy like Mike? Especially since he doesn't exist?"

And ya know what? I don't care. I say, bring it on Michael. In fact I've told him that repeatedly every night before they throw me out of the Press Club. What? He sits there taunting me, nursing a Brandy Alexander all night from the other end of the bar and I'm not supposed to say anything?

So - just like the response I give to the only other question people ask me, I say "Fine." ... and then I suggest we "take it outside." But unlike all the others, when asked that particular Part 2 of our conversation, Michael Patterson actually follows me out.

Am I scared? Shit man, he's a fukkin' cartoon character! What's he gonna do? Hit me over the head with an anvil? Drop a piano on my head?

But that's not the point. People love For Better or For Worse because it's supposed to be a "true life" comic strip - and who can't relate to the follies and foibles at Chez Patterson? I sure can. Just the same, he is a cartoon character and when I taunt him outside into a fist-fight and settle it mano et mano, he hits me over the head with his guitar. Just like 'El Ka-Bong.' Settling it man to horse. After a lifetime of Hanna-Barbera cartoons, I shoulda seen that one coming.

Most unbelievable of all is the much bally-hooed first novel that Michael has penned. Check out Mike's monthly blog at the For Better or For Worse website - www.fbofw.com - for the details.

It's titled, Stone Season, and - surprise surprise, it's not about a family growing up in suburban G.T.A. during The Wonder Years. Instead, it's about a rural middle-aged woman with two kids and a 17-year loveless marriage to an abusive boozehound farmer husband. Her name is Sheilaugh Shaugnessy.

See what I mean about how things come a little too easy to Michael? It's like he wandered into the CanLit section at his local library and tripped over a Margaret Laurence novel. "Sheilaugh Shaugnessy?" Geez, I'm surprised he didn't name her Hagar Shipley?

Yep, that's just what the world needs - yet another crappy novel about 'isolation' in Canada. Told from the point of view of a grizzled old farm girl. Yeah, this thing has 'best seller' written all over it. And it this country, that means 10,000 sold. Good luck to the publishers in making back that $25,000 advance.

But the biggest recent howler in Michael's life came when he recently quit his full time job at Portrait. Rather than have to lay someone else off. Like I've said, he's a good kid. But getting back to the unreality of the whole business about his writing career - he quits his full-time job while his own family is temporarily living with his parents. He now has no job. And as he somewhat fearfully informs his long-suffering wife Deanna of this news, she is so overwhelmed that she throws her arms around him and says, "It's about time!"

Yeah. As if.

But then it occurs to me that I should know better. I understand. Because I happen to personally know of another dreamer who, after finishing his post-high school education, quit his job at Dutch Laundry and within a month, impregnated his wife with child and signed a mortage for the house his wife and family to come have lived in for a quarter of a century. And his explanation at the time to his woman was that he planned on going into the writing game. Well, that was fine for a few years. A part-time job and regular freelance writing gigs made that actually seem like a possiblility. Then things change. You can't afford to take your kids to DisneyLand on that kind of money. You can't take your kids to 'Harveys' on that kind of money.

That guy was me. The woman was my wife, Mabel.

And the thing that tells me to grant Mikey a little slack is because I remember what Mabel said to me back then when I told her I was quitting my job to become a writer - mortgage and child-to-come notwithstanding, " Oh, that's alright. I knew you weren't a 9 to 5 type person when I married you. Just make sure you can make enough to pay the bills - ya blockhead."

To quote Muriel Hemingway at the end of Manhattan, when she tells Woody Allen that she's going to study in England for a year - "Sometimes, you just have to have a little faith in people."