Short Takes
November 14, 2010
Springfield Sexual Addiction Center: From PERV to PERFECT in as little as 10 days.
Are friends and co-workers always borrowing pens from you — and forgetting to return them? And don’t they always have a good excuse: “I don’t know it was yours.” Well, they’ll know who owns these. The collection of eight pens is called Borrow My Pen. The pens are embossed with the names of uniformly stupid businesses (Dr. Lance Hughes, Proctology) and their equally dumb slogans (Turn your head and cough, 301 South Main. Please use rear entrance). I’m thinking: gift to loved ones trapped in offices.
November 10, 2010
May I lead you to water in NYC on 11/16?
Water, water, everywhere? We like to think so. But our most important resource is our most endangered resource. If you don’t know this from Susan Leal’s book, Running Out of Water, you might want to show up at the Council of the Americas (680 Park Avenue) on Tuesday, November 16th, for an 8:30 AM (yes, AM) conversation (ending at 10 AM). The experts are Ms. Leal and Alex Prud’homme. The moderator is — gulp — me. It’s free, but you must register. Which you can do here.
November 7, 2010
Gobsmacked by a “Distinguished Professor”
In a blog on “The Smart Set,” Paula Marantz Cohen recently “leveled my gaze at the men’s buttoned shirt in the hope that it might yield insight into the subtle expressiveness of the male wardrobe.” One aspect mystified her — the detachable collars on men’s 19th century dress shirts:
As originally designed, the collar was detachable, like the tie. One could speculate on why this was and why it changed. Perhaps the 19th-century man only needed to give emphasis to his head in public settings; at home, he could disregard this part of his anatomy, either because he deferred to his wife’s judgment or, contrarily, because brute force could serve him in lieu of brain power. Whatever the reason, in the 20th century, the collar ceased to be detachable. Public and private became less differentiated.Paula Marantz Cohen is, according to her bio, “Distinguished Professor of English at Drexel University and host of The Drexel InterView, a talk show broadcast on over 275 public television stations across the country. She is author of four nonfiction books and three bestselling novels.”Is it possible that a “Distinguished Professor of English” really knows nothing about the Industrial Revolution? How England, in particular, heated homes and offices with soft coal? Has she not read Dickens? Or Macbeth: "Fair is foul, and foul is fair: Hover through the fog and filthy air.”And “filthy” was not dramatic exaggeration. From a fog monitor’s 1902 report: "White and damp in the early morning, it [London] became smoky later, the particles coated with soot being dry and pungent to inhale. There was a complete block of street traffic at some crossings. Omnibuses were abandoned, and several goods trains were taken off.” And the disgusting pollution persisted — in 1952, a soot-laden fog killed 4,000 Londoners.Why were collars detachable? Because white collars quickly turned black. And so — as often as three times a day — gentlemen changed their collars, and for that matter, their detachable cuffs.“One can only speculate.” Sorry. One could know.November 5, 2010
Nora Ephron: ‘I Remember Nothing’
Even before I read the I-didn’t-really-love-it-but-who-wants-to-piss-her-off New York Times review of Nora Ephron’s new book, I knew she had one coming out — she has many fans among Head Butler readers and some of you have written to say, “You didn’t review I Feel Bad About My Neck, which was really terrific; are you going to review this one, which looks like more of the same?” Short answer: No. The long answer…well, got time for a story? In 1983, when she published Heartburn, a thinly disguised novel about Carl Bernstein’s infidelity and the breakup of their marriage, Nora and I were, in a New York kind of way, friends. That is, we lived in the same building, we went to some of the same parties, I had even been in the horse-drawn carriage with her and Marie Brenner and Liz Smith the night that Carl Bernstein, more than a little drunk, decided to jump onto the driver’s seat and take us for a ride, only to tip us into the street outside the St. Regis Hotel. So when I heard that Nora had written a novel, I told Edward Kosner — editor of New York Magazine, where I was a contributing editor — that I wanted to profile her. His response: a splendid idea. I called her. Her response: not a splendid idea. She was, she said, only planning to talk to local newspapers in the cities where she’d be promoting the book. Her exact words: “I forbid you to do this piece.” I told Ed Kosner. His exact words: “Who do you work for, her or me?” Well, now that he’d put it that way….I called Nora and told her I was doing the piece and that I’d inform everyone I called that she wasn’t participating. Of course her friends all talked — and their contributions weren’t as warm and wonderful as I would have expected and she might have assumed. A few weeks later, New York’s readers drooled over Scenes from a Marriage. Nora never spoke to me again. Twenty-plus years passed. Nora, the piece, the bad feeling — the episode faded for me. Then we ran into one another at the Aspen Ideas Festival. In less than a second, we had a moment out of a silent movie. (Imagine the subtitles, please.) Nora jerked back, horrified. Me: Really? No statute of limitations? Nora: No, never. So, given our history, I’m not rushing to review I Remember Nothing. But if one of you wants to do a Guest Butler stint, please raise your hand.
November 3, 2010
Tattoo You
So there you are at the biker bar, drinking the local brew but still feeling badly under-decorated. Or you’re at an airport terminal in a state that allows residents to carry concealed weapons, feeling like everybody can tell you’re a Volvo-driving, latte-swilling Yankee Democrat. No need to play the part of a wimp — not when you’ve got an instant tattoo up your sleeve.
That’s right, friends. Just slip on a Fake Temporary Tattoo Sleeve and — instantly — become One of the Boys. Amazon offers a bargain package: 10 sleeves for $15.99, with free shipping. And for women who like to strut their stuff, there’s a tattoo sleeve set for ladies decorated with birds and flowers, just $3.99 (plus $3.04 shipping). Righteous!
