My old buddy Tom Gogola (whose awesomely loud and witty band, Blown Woofer, is playing twice this weekend in New York, at Union Hall on the 24th and Mercury Lounge on the 25th—now that’s gravy) asked me to contribute to his paper’s Thanksgiving thanks-bonanza, and I did. Have a nice holiday, safe travels to Martin who’s on his way back over the sea, and see you in a few days.
Later: Hey, the results of Leonard Lopate’s Thanksgiving cartoon contest are now up on the WNYC website, complete with video of Lopate and Bob Mankoff chatting and throwing around a cartoon idea that includes the phrase “totally plucked.” Reads one plaintive comment, “congratz to the winners..really. But does anyone else feel like charlie brown for losing?” Cheer up—you’ve still got a chance in the traditional arena. And this week’s edition has Cartoon Issue-themed red in it; if you win it, you’re certainly no turkey.
Category Archives: Personal
In Which I Am Asked Many Questions About The New Yorker
And I answer “Yeah!” I thought there could be no more pleasing process than that of working with a pair of gifted web designers who took every impulsive suggestion and translated it into something beautiful, but now I know it’s probably being asked questions like this.
I am also the author of this week’s A Brief Message—think the MetroCard looks like a smooshed bee? You’re not alone! Add your own suggestions for a better design in the comments over there.
At The Millions, Some New Yorker Readers (Including Me) Explain
What makes a loyal New Yorker reader tick, and what ticks off a loyal New Yorker reader? Find out at this post—”The Greatest Magazine Ever?”—on The Millions, which includes a statement of purpose by your occasionally behind-the-scenes but committed (to be read any way you like) correspondent.
On Blackwater and Military Contractors
My brilliant sister Laura Dickinson, who is and always will be smarter than me and is writing a book called The Death of the State? The Promise and Perils of Outsourcing War and Peace, was just on the BBC program “The World” to talk about prosecuting security contractors. Here she is on WBUR’s “Here and Now,” on the same topic. Also, revisit David Remnick’s Comment, from 2006, on Al Gore and An Inconvenient Truth.
If This Was Made for You, You May Be Made For Me
Can you imagine an expertly edited, magnificently pared-down, eight-minute-long version of His Girl Friday with not a word of dialogue? That’s no impediment for those who know every breath, carnation, siren, sigh, innuendo, newsroom bell, typewriter report, bang, cry, groan, and cock of the eyebrow. Go watch it at Bad for the Glass, where I found it, and which adds the comment: “This experimental edit of the film removes every word, leaving in only sneezes and grunts and Cary Grant’s delightful laugh. Knowing the film’s plot, the rapid edits are intriguing in places. And this shortened version helps you actually pay closer attention to Hawks’ marvelous visual staging, even in a setbound film like ‘Friday.'” The editing is by Valentin Spirik. Bravo.
Dorothy Parker the Cat and Bonobo the Sexy Monkey
A few nights ago, I stopped by the Algonquin for Matilda the hotel cat’s kind sponsorship of a North Shore Animal League benefit. Hairless cats! Cunning costumes! Drinks! Pistachio cake! My favorite waiter! The place was packed, and I took some really blurry pictures with my phone, but Kevin Fitzpatrick, fearless leader of the Dorothy Parker Society, took far better ones, so take a look (Elvis has not left the building). Two Dorothy Parker Society members even adopted a cat, which they named…can you guess?
In other news, there is some debate among those with the opposable thumbs, tools, religion, and/or blogs to conduct it, about Ian Parker’s look at the myth of the bisexual, benevolent bonobo. You say alliteration isn’t evolved? It’s primal, man.
Some fuzzy but affectionately snapped cell-phone photos of the Algonquin bash follow. Kevin’s, again, are far better, especially of Matilda; by the time I got around to my arbitrary photo session, she had retreated behind her mini-door. I’m compensating by throwing in a picture of my own furry pal, who does not live in a hotel, but seems pretty contented, but I can’t say for sure since I’m never home.
These Are the Cartoons in My Family—How About Yours?
Who can explain the mysterious alchemy by which this or that New Yorker cartoon becomes an inside family joke, an axiom, so much so that the punchline alone conjures the entire conceit? There’s an old gag about the two superannuated friends who tell each other the same jokes so often that they’ve numbered them—one can say “Number 42!” and be sure of the reply, “That’s a good one.”
We told these cartoons to each other, too many times perhaps, as a way of accentuating our familyhood. And occasionally we told them to outsiders, too. Some are generally famous; others aren’t. Some are remembered from the original magazine issue; some developed their staying power long after publication, through bound collections from decades ago. Here are the ones for my family. What are yours?
• “Gently, sir. It’s Mother’s Day.†(George Price)
• “Sometimes we sell them, lady, but only to other teams.†(Peter Arno)
• “If he’s not a Frenchman he’s certainly an awful snob.†(Saul Steinberg)
• “I say it’s spinach, and I say the hell with it.†(Carl Rose)
• “Watch out, Fred! Here it comes again!†(George Price)
—Martin Schneider
Who Still Reads Magazines?
“Just about everybody,” reports AdAge.
At Last, Something Really Romantic
Congratulations, Meghan and Jim!
I Will Be at BEA. Will You Be at BEA?
Because if you’re there too, you may be able to find me. But how? You could gaze at my photo till you memorize my features. How sweetly sentimental that would be. Or, if you see someone who looks like she might be the editor of a website devoted to a vaunted weekly magazine, plus a bunch of other stuff, then come on up and give her a dollar—that is, a friendly handshake! Places I might be found: the NBCC and other panels, booths for publishers of art and design titles, and anywhere the public ingestion of DayQuil will not be considered outré. Also, in case you didn’t know, the Saturday, June 2, Algonquin Round Table walking tour is free for anyone wearing a BEA badge.
Finally, and forgive me if this has been posted everywhere, but: DayQuil. Barack Obama may well have a shot at becoming a gag cartoonist, although, as you know, the days of New Yorker cartoons with two lines of dialogue are long past. Nevertheless, as the weary Democrat said to her party, What is an optimist, Pop?