Something Rich and Strange

I have a great affection for this time of year, although its intense beauty, which ends almost as quickly as it begins, leaves a longing for autumn’s brilliance that even a roaring hearth cannot satisfy. If April is the cruelest month, mixing memory with desire, then October is surely penultimate in its meanness, offering a blast of blazing color, then darkness followed by the pale stillness of winter.
 






For more fall photos, visit my Flickr Photostream.

Once upon a time, back in a kinder, gentler era called the 1970’s, a new magazine was launched by a bunch of over-educated Ivy League guys. Not content with their modest provincial publication called Harvard Lampoon, they decided to go big. Thus was National Lampoon magazine birthed in April of 1970.

For many years the Lampoon was synonymous with smart, sophisticated humor. OK, with a little raunch thrown in to ensure a wider reach. I remember reading a parody of Nobel Laureate Gabriel Garcia Marquez’ critically lauded work “100 Years of Solitude” re-named “100 Years of Solid Food.” Sometimes it was not only literature that was parodied, as in the send-up of Stephen King’s “Fire Starter” entitled “Egg Boiler.” The first line said something to the effect of “move over Sophocles, Stephen King is here.”

In addition to brief bios on some of the brilliant and the dead, recounting the often hiliarious antics that typically involved being stoned or drunk, this large-format book also has full-size reproductions of some of the magazine's funniest pieces. For instance, “Law of the Jungle,” a piece that occupies 12 pages with solid copy describing jurisprudence in the animal kingdom. According to the article, Lex Biologica preceded human law and was even present in Jurassic times. The example of Brontosaurus v. Tyrannonosaurus Rex is cited as a “fairly routine waterhole case in which a dispute arose following the closing of a traditional easement by a volcanic eruption” that made the animals aware of the need for an “orderly means of settling disagreements without bloodshed.” But as the next paragraph explained, not all species were on board with this concept:

“Unfortunately, the larger reptiles, particularly the dinosaurs, behaved like Norman Knights, refusing in many cases to accept unfavorable verdicts, and almost invariably resorting to the ancient custom of trial by eating.”

Many who were associated with the Lampoon staff over the years went on to achieve comedic greatness, such as John Belushi, Bill Murray and Chevy Chase. In fact, Saturday Night Live, which arguably changed comedic television in the United States, was largely stocked with Lampoon “graduates” as cast members and writers.

So for a literary escape that has stood the test of time, whether you’re drunk, stoned, or sober, this retrospective will have you laughing out loud.



Gallbladder, meet large intestines.

Recently, I made the unfortunate observation, using the television show “Mad Men” as a historical benchmark, that women haven’t made as much progress in the past few decades as we should have. For instance, we still earn only 75 cents on the dollar compared to men. There are only 15 female CEOs of Fortune 500 companies and it appears that we’re not gaining ground in that area, either. And this is despite the fact that women are graduating with business degrees at the rate of 2 to 1 over men. Figuring out why this is happening is the subject of a much wider and scholarly inquiry.

But what I want to address right now is one of the greatest indignities and inequities that is being perpetrated on women since foot binding: "shape wear."

For the blessed few of you who are not familiar with it, “shape wear” is the 21st century version of the corset or girdle – on steroids. It is in essence a garment that squeezes in or pushes-up flesh (read fat) that due to gravity or other circumstances isn’t residing where we – or society – think it should. So by sheer force (the miracle of Spandex), we are going to reposition it to a more aesthetically pleasing location.

Now, I’m all for looking the best a gal can, given her wherewithal (personal training, Botox, Mustafa), but squeezing the bejeezus out of the body’s largest and most malleable organ isn’t one of them. I mean, we’ve gone from burning our bras to now shelling out upwards of $75 to acquire, in the parlance of shape wear ad copy, “overachieving underpinnings” where “powerful compression” and “chic design” meet. The only place these two phrases should “meet” is in a hard drive, not your midriff. Oy.


 

Zipping down to the ground.

 


An instructor makes this crossing look easy (trust me, it wasn't).

 

For this one, you swing into the net from a rope, ala Tarzan. Yodeling is frowned upon.



When people ask me if I watch “Mad Men,” the award-winning series about mostly male ad execs in the 60s and the women that make them look good, I say no and explain why: because, from my perspective, there’s a lot that hasn’t changed since then. And it’s just too damn depressing. On the other hand, those heavy-handed sexist ads have changed, right? [Editor’s note: Readers younger than 45, please skip to the next paragraph.] Remember those airline ads from the 70's featuring a nubile woman in hot pants who says “I’m Bambi, fly me” (or words to that effect) that give sexual innuendo a bad name? That’s what I thought until I recently saw a commercial for “Just Men” hair color. Except in this commercial, it was the man being (potentially) sexually exploited. Somehow this equal opportunity sexism is not “refreshing.”

Here’s the “plot.” Two guys are up for a position; one younger and the other older as denoted by his gray hair. The man and woman doing the hiring confer about whether “energy” (young guy) or “experience” (gray guy) is key (the blatant ageism here is for another post; one “ism” at a time.). In the end, neither is compromised as we see the older guy now with darker hair accompanying the attractive and younger woman who presumably just hired him along an office hallway. She says, and I’m not making this up, in a rather salacious way, “I’ve got big plans for you.” Ewwwww.

OK. I’m going out on a limb here, but what man or woman would want the outcome of their job search to end in the likelihood that their boss or the person who hired them was throwing double entendres their way before the ink on the W-4 was dry? Such a situation will not end well; just ask Mark Hurd and his ilk.

We’ve come a short way, baby.