KROQ

Various phrases that slipped into our lexicon. They had a brilliant person doing their promotional spots in the 1990s.

Example:
”Muni mula! Muni mula!” (From an island chief.)
”What’s he saying?”
”Either he’s inviting us to dinner, or it’s ‘aluminum’ backwards.”

Many jokes of where you hear a verb of the form {x}-er, and the reply comes back, “{x}-‘er? I don’t even know ‘er!” Oh, sure, this is Music Hall corny stuff, and variations of the old, “I don’t know, you naughty boy, I’ve never kippled!” (Allegedly the best-selling postcard of all time.)

KROQ these days has had many format changes since then, and fallen from its pedestal accordingly.

Ai-chi My-chi

Lexicon. Only me. Comes from a co-worker when I was at Gallo Wine. Maria, the woman who entered in the sales info before I could run the job that spat out the 3×5 cards that routed the delivery trucks. (And then I could go to lunch.)

Anyway… Usage: This morning I was served my breakfast, and as I was adjusting the combination of my side table, my food tray, and my napkin, I said, “Ai-chi, my-chi.” It’s just that kind of interjection. Some might say, “Aw, jeez,” or something similar.

“I don’t make the news…”

“…I just report it.”

Lexicon. Oft-quoted by myself, originally picked up by me from Gordon Robison.

I’m racking my brain for an example of how I use it. Usually goes like this:

“This is really terrible.”
”Come on, it can’t be that bad.”
”I don’t make the news, I just report it.”

He was the news director at KSPC FM, the college radio station at Pomona College while we were both there. This is a good interview of him, from 2005. He’s been with Fox, he’s been with ABC. Lived in Cairo, Amman, Baghdad. Been a Professor. Linked-In tells me he’s an Executive Producer for Al Jazeera Media Network these days.

Back in 1997, I was in Atlanta for COMDEX, working for Toshiba, and staying at the Omni Hotel. I called up Gordon, asking if we could get together, and catch up. He was working for CNN International at the time (the flavor of CNN that the world outside the US sees), and offered to take me around the CNN facility.

My little journalist wannabe heart went pitter-pat. “I guess I could do that. If it’s easier for you,” I said, in my best poker voice.

He shows me around the place. Shows me the giant poster of CNN’s ratings, with the huge spike during Gulf War I. Walks me through a set with a wraparound desk and two empty chairs, clearly a broadcast set. Points to a glassed-in passageway, one story up from where we are:
“See that?”
”Yeah.”
”That’s where the regular tour goes.”

We make our way to what’s obviously a live production control room. All the video feeds queued up. A wall of monitors, each with something different.

“Hey, Gordon! New hire?”

I wish.

We wind things down. In retrospect, I realize we didn’t say much to each other about ourselves, and he was showing off a little to someone who knew him when… But I didn’t mind, at all.

I walked back to my hotel. Which was just across an atrium.

But it might have been across a world.

(EDITED TO ADD: Wikipedia ascribes the phrase to Mark Russell. But A) They quote him as saying it’s an “old newsman’s adage,” and B) they include the least encyclopedic phrase in the world, the dreaded, “citation needed.”)

“Confusingly similar…”

It was back in the late 1980s, and both Ulrika and I were working (in a volunteer way) the Renaissance Pleasure Faire in Agoura, CA. There was something else trying to start up, and they were… highly interested in people with experience helping their enterprise. Word came down that anyone who worked or aided in any way a, “confusingly similar Renaissance event” would be canned, banned, and called nasty things forever more.

I mention all this because that phrase entered our lexicon. “Confusingly similar {x}…” is more useful than you might think.

For example, Ted Lasso’s third season features a tall, knot-top, bicycle kicking superstar character named Zava. And it’s fairly clear he’s based on Zlatan Ibrahimović. So we call Zava , “the confusingly similar Zlatan character.”

The Shovel Breaks


(This was first written in August, 2010 for LiveJournal, and is now on Dreamwidth. But it really needs to be at this site.)

=================

So tonight we were watching Glee S1:D3 from Netflix, and I made an observation about how unlikely this was from choral standards — but, hey, what do I know? I only sang in grade school, high school, and college choirs for 12 years.

And Ulrika said, “I wonder when the shovel will break?”

We both realized there was a lexicon entry — because she got that phrase from me.

*^*^*

There I am living in Harwood Court, a dorm on the Pomona College campus.

I’m talking to Doug Shepherd, class of ’84, and some other folks, and I forget just how this came up, but he says, “Night of the Comet is so bad, the shovel breaks before the opening titles.”

“Oh?” I say. “What do you mean by that, Doug?”

“Well… All fiction is basically the art of throwing shit in your general direction. When you’re in the hands of a master — Tolstoy, say, or Hitchcock — they shovel the shit out of the way so quickly and so cleanly you don’t ever really notice it. Their shovels are made out of a mix of titanium and carbon fiber. But let’s face it — not everyone is that good. So, sooner or later, the shit is just so heavy their shovel breaks. Then the shit the story depends on starts piling up. I mean, it becomes a big pile. Then it starts stinking. You just can’t pay any attention to the story, because this steaming pile of shit is between the story and you, and it keeps growing, because their shovel has broken, and they just can’t get it out of the way.”

Night of the Comet starts with this text prologue on the screen. And this text is so lame, and so ridiculous… I’m telling you, the shovel breaks before the titles show up.”

“So it becomes something of a measure of quality, y’know? Just when does the shovel break in a story?”

*^*^*

This was the thing Doug told me I remember best, and have found most useful in the passage of time. And now I pass it on to you.

*^*^*

EDITED TO ADD: I was wrong. It’s not a crawl of text. Such is the world in which we live I was able to download the movie to look, check, and verify. It opens with John Carpenter-ish synth riffs, and deep, dark narration by Michael Hanks. It was tough to punctuate the following, because many times you’d think a sentence was over, and then it would go on.

Since before recorded time it had swung through the universe in an elliptical orbit so large that its very existence remained a secret of time and space. But now, in the last few years of the twentieth century, the visitor was returning.

Animated comet goes whooshing by.
Title: NIGHT OF THE COMET

The citizens of Earth would get an extra Christmas present this year, as their planet orbited through the tail of the comet. Scientists predicted a light show of stellar proportions – something not seen on Earth for 65 million years. Indeed, not since the time that the dinosaurs disappeared virtually overnight. 

There were a few who saw this as more than just a coincidence. But, most didn’t.

“Pleeeeease!”

Lexicon. Comes from Robert Klein’s comedy album, Child of the Fifties.

I was watching TV this morning, when I saw an ad for a Budweiser product. It had the slug line, “100% Hard Seltzer. 0% Beer.” So at least they know their beer has a perception problem, and a product having nothing to do with their beer is an attractive feature.

But once you hear Klein, you’ll understand why the desperation of the ad (and a great deal of ads by many other people as well) reminded me of the bit.

Shannon’s Deal & Logic

I admire John Sayles a lot. Sayles not only writes and directs movies, he edits them (which, as Tony Zhou points out, is a very small bunch of people who include Kurosawa). Sayles made Matewan, and Lone Star, among others.

And in 1990-91 he made his one foray into TV: Shannon’s Deal. For a show with only one season, it has a very extensive Quotes page on IMDb. With these elegant lines:

[Jack Shannon tries to talk Wilmer Slade out of taking his entire payment]

Jack Shannon: Then you should understand that a payment of this size is going to make Mr. Testa very upset. 

Wilmer Slade: Why do I sense an oncoming assault on logic?

“An oncoming assault on logic.” That’s beautiful. That might be lexicon of the future, that.

What a damned shame it’s not promising I’ll ever see it. Will any of the streaming platforms ever pick it up? And it hasn’t been made a DVD.

Bitch, you almost made me break character

Lexicon. Wild rephrasing of the original from the movie Chasing Amy:

“‘What’s a Nubian?’… Bitch, you almost made me laugh.”

Now, in my defense, this may have been a mashup with a story from my college days. Professor Leonard Pronko put on one of his periodic kabuki productions, this one titled Lancelot Bewitched. The lead, Kevin Costello, was teased by a number of my friends (Mark Vargas, Cathy Kerry, Topher Jaworski, others). Imagine the following delivered to Kevin in the exaggerated style of kabuki:

“Threeeee times! You broke character threeeeee times! And weeee saw you!”

So I may have taken the laughing and the breaking of character, and merged them.

It’s a theory, anyway.