Some of the promises made by ads in the backs of old comics were small, like claims a pair of X-Ray Specs would let us see the bones in our hands and through the clothes of our friends. Other promises were larger, such as the one I told you about made in 1932 that a clipped coupon could turn someone into a professional writer.

But the inside back cover of Four Favorites #22 (March 1946) promised the most life-changing reward of all—a movie contract!

Send in a buck and you’d receive the book How to Get Into the Movies, and if you had, why, you might now be as famous as Roger Batton.

Who?

Batton, who provided the testimonial above, claims to have gotten a part in the 1944 film Song of the Open Road thanks to that book. One problem—the IMDb entry for that film includes no one by that name. In fact, there’s no entry for Roger Batton on IMDb at all!

As for Judith Allen, who wrote How to Get Into the Movies, she did seem to have had a legit acting career, though IMDb lists her with a total of 37 credits through 1952, rather than the 52 claimed through 1946 by the ad.

Did her book ever get anyone into the movies other than Batton, who (without having seen the film) I suspect only appeared, if at all, uncredited as one of the “Hollywood Canteen Kids”? There’s no way of knowing, I guess, but if I cared enough, I could check out her advice myself, because there’s a copy of her book available at AbeBooks for only $10.00.

I suspect, however, that her advice, whether the price is one dollar or ten, is still overpriced, and unlikely to get me or anyone else a movie contract. If you’re desperate, though, feel free to give it a shot.

I’ve been using a Fitbit since May 4, 2013. That’s right—Star Wars Day. Which seems a perfect day to have introduced a new piece of tech into my life. It’s been a great help in getting me to back away from the keyboard and move, supplementing the plans I’d already made to stay alive as long as possible.

In the 20 months since I strapped a Flex to my wrist, I’ve taken 6,909,017 steps, which works out to having walked 3,440.01 miles. And my feelings toward the product have been mostly positive. But it occurred to me today, as I wrapped a fourth Flex band around my wrist, that there’s one thing I don’t see much of online, even though my friends and I have spoken of it—that those bands wear out far more quickly than we’d expected.

Since the Flex tracks my sleep as well as my activity, I wear it 24/7, only removing it to recharge once every 5-7 days. This means that over the course of these 20 months of use, assuming I recharged at the lower end of the battery life, I would have only slipped the device from one of my wristbands approximately 120 times or so. Split that among the three dead bands, and that works out to only 40 removals and reinsertions each. (Check my math, OK?)

And yet, here’s what the stress of sliding out and then slipping back in those devices has caused those three abandoned wristbands to look like now …

(more…)

Before we get too much deeper into the first month of the new year, here are the dreams I’d previously shared with you one at a time over on Twitter during the last month of the old year, only now they’re all rubbing together making some kind of strange subconscious poetry.

Last month, I dreamt of Jimmie Walker, Gil Kane, James Gandolfini, Bonnie Raitt, Chip Delany, Ann Landers, and who knows, maybe even you.

December 2014

I dreamt I was having dinner at a steak house, and the waiter said their steaks were the best because their cows didn’t eat other cows. Dec 31

I dreamt I was in a televised Christmas special with a cast that included Jimmie Walker and we were the only ones who didn’t flub our lines. Dec 31

I dreamt I tagged along with @neilhimself as he went to chat with J. R. R. Tolkien, and man, do I wish I could remember THAT conversation! Dec 31

I dreamt my wife and I adopted a baby elephant, and as she led it off our porch into the backyard, I tried to snap a pic to share with you. Dec 30

I dreamt I was invited to a major fashion show, and when a model complained about ’20s hairstyles, said, “Every age has its own wonders.” Dec 31

I dreamt I wandered with a crowd on some sort of secret mission, and when someone started firing at us with a machine gun, only I survived. Dec 28

I dreamt my son and I got into a discussion of the Iron Man stories from Tales of Suspense, but when he kept calling me Mr. Edelman, I woke. Dec 28

I dreamt a friend loaned me his car and I couldn’t get it to start, until I realized he’d wired it so without your seatbelt, it never would. Dec 28

I dreamt I tagged along with my congressperson as she visited the NSA, and the agents there teased me with info about me no one should know. Dec 27

I dreamt Paul Di Filippo and Deb Newton brought along their dog to Readercon and gave her to me to mind — she followed me wherever I went. Dec 27 (more…)

A tweet from the Horror Writers Association has alerted me to the fact that only 10 days remain to get in those Stoker Award recommendations. Which means it’s time for me to alert any voting members out there of my lone eligible piece of fiction from 2014—the short story “An Most Extraordinary Man,” which originally appeared in the anthology The Monkey’s Other Paw: Revived Classic Stories of Dread and the Dead from NonStop Press.

If you happen to be one of those voting members, and would like to read the story for Stoker consideration, drop me a note and I’ll be glad to shoot a copy off to you.

But all of you, whether HWA member or not, can give a listen to me reading the piece aloud back in 2012 at the Chicago Worldcon.

I only hope Saki isn’t spinning in his grave …

If you scored a new television this holiday season, either as a gift or from a sale, you’re probably figuring you’ll have no problems with it, that it’ll perform perfectly for you until technology overtakes it and you decide to dump it for an even cooler screen. But TVs didn’t used to be that reliable, at least not according to the TV Owners Guide that could be purchased for $1.98 from an ad in the back of Web of Evil #1 (November 1952)

How unreliable were they? So unreliable that a selling point for the book was that if you followed the advice inside, “You may actually have to call a repairman only once a year!”

Only once a year? As someone who’s never called a television repairman ever, it’s hard to imagine a time when needing only a single annual visit would be considered a wonder.

How bad were things for owners of TV sets in 1952? According to the ad, the book’s $1.98 price was “less than 1/2 the cost of a single service call.” And “you can save the $30-$60 service fees you are now paying, and you can save most of your $10-$15 repair bills.” Take inflation into account, and those ’50s TVs turn into a money sink.

So let’s all be very grateful we’re living in 2015 and not 1952. After all, you wouldn’t want to have to see this guy all the time …

While driving to the post office this afternoon, I caught up with The Writer’s Almanac, a podcast on which I’m way behind. So I only today got to hear the following inspirational quote read by Garrison Keillor on November 22, 2014, which was André Gide’s 145th birthday:

Gide’s advice was—

Do not do what someone else could do as well as you. Do not say, do not write what someone else could say, could write as well as you. Care for nothing in yourself but what you feel exists nowhere else. And, out of yourself create, impatiently or patiently, the most irreplaceable of beings.

I’ll do my best to keep that in mind as I move forward.

Last night I had a dream too convoluted to be shared only as a tweet, which means a full post is necessary …

So there I was in the world of Mad Men, working for Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce, and something was up. A big meeting was called, everyone who worked for the company was there, and at the front of the room, all of the big shots like Don Draper, Roger Sterling, and Bert Cooper were seated at a long table.

Bert gave me a “you’re supposed to be up here” look, which surprised me, as I didn’t realize I was that important. So I joined him at the table, and was beside him as he opened his briefcase and removed a set of index cards. He explained that the firm was in trouble, and the only way to save it was if we visited every client over the next day to prove how much their business meant to us. He handed out the cards so we each had our assignments.

Cut to Peggy Olson’s apartment later that night, where I arrived with others to strategize. I looked around the room and saw she had many comic books laying around, and talked with her briefly about that, because I had no idea she was into them. But we had no time for a lengthy discussion, and so got down to business. (more…)

The year 2014 contained an amazing amount of good food eaten across three continents (plus one island that was 2,182 miles away from any continent). Looking back on those meals to winnow down my 10 favorite dishes of the year, my decision on whether or not to include a dish came down to questions such as these—

Did its pleasures go beyond conscious thought? Was my appreciation more than just intellectual admiration for the talents of the chef?

If you’d been nearby, and if your eyes had been closed, would I have confused you, because my groans would have made you assume you were present at an orgy rather than a meal?

Here the dishes which made me moan the loudest last year … (more…)

Now that the end of 2014 is only hours away, I thought I’d take a look at which posts of mine received the most traffic this year. In doing so, I learned several things—

The long tail is in play. Only seven of the top 20 posts were original to 2014. Four were from 2013, three from 2012, four from 2011, one from 2010, and one from all the way back in 2008.

My food posts are popular. Nine of the top 20 were food-related.

Also—the Internet continues to miss its father, as my 2011 post about missing my Dad on his birthday was the third most popular post this year, even though it first appeared in 2011.

In case you’re interested in clicking on what others thought worth clicking on, here’s 2014’s Top 20, in order of popularity:

My despair is more than just an ornament (2014)

Another reason I love Dave Gibbons (and continue to hate Roy Lichtenstein) (2013)

Happy birthday, Dad. I still miss you. (2011)

Gaze upon Astrid y Gaston’s menu and prepare to salivate (2012)

A few words in defense of Jack Kirby, Sal Buscema, Irv Novick, and other anonymized artists (2011)

How slut-shaming went down (and was smacked down) in a 1954 romance comic (2014)

My brisket pilgrimage to Franklin BBQ (2013)

A deliciously inventive dinner at Boragó, the best restaurant in Chile (2014)

Reliving our magnificent meal at Vienna’s Steirereck im Stadtpark (2013)

Thank you, Sansaire, for the best steak I’ve ever cooked (2014)

No evil may escape my sight (2008)

Next, Alinea, The Aviary … and the greatest amuse bouche the universe ever gave a foodie (2012)

Our joyous opening night at Riverstead (2014)

There’s nothing wrong with comic book mashups, smashups, allusions, tributes, or homages (2011)

Why a comic book isn’t a Hershey’s bar (2011)

Thank you, Astrid y Gaston, for the best meal of my life (2012)

A farewell to Robert Freedman, my oldest friend (2014)

1932: “Stop Crying, Start Buying” (2010)

And the winner of the best goulash in Vienna is … Cafe Landtmann! (2013)

Which side are you on? (2014)

Thanks for continuing to drop by. And have a great 2015, OK?

I’ve been reading the notes at the back of the Library of America’s 2012 compilation Kurt Vonnegut: Novels & Stories 1950–1962, because a) I get a kick out of that kind of thing and b) I’ve already read all of the novels and stories themselves. And I’m surprised by what the editors thought needed to be explained to me so I’d understand Vonnegut’s allusions.

Here are some things the Library of America thought I wouldn’t get without explication.

Rube Goldberg machine
Rosicrucians
Horatio on the bridge
Black Maria
Jim Thorpe
Maxfield Parrish
Tweety and Sylvester
Le Sacre du Printemps
The Protocols of the Elders of Zion
Mata Hari
Adolf Eichmann
Maxfield Parrish
Cyklon-B
Werner von Braun
Maggie and Jiggs

I did need to be told, however, that a Helen Twelvetrees is a “cocktail of Southern Comfort, ginger ale, and blackberry concentrate,” because I only know of her as a movie actress from the ’30s. But then, I don’t drink. I presume the non-teetotalers out there already know about it.

That being said … am I wrong to believe that anyone likely to pick up a copy of Kurt Vonnegut: Novels & Stories 1950–1962 is already aware of each of those people and things, making such explanations unnecessary? Or am I, unlike H. L. Mencken, overestimating the intelligence of the great masses?