This blog covers everything except sports and gardening, unless we find a really good link about using dead professional bowlers for mulch. The author is a StarTribune columnist, has been passing off fiction and hyperbole as insight since 1997, has run his own website since the Jurassic era of AOL, and was online when today’s college sophomores were a year away from being born. So get off his lawn.
Octomom plus PETA: together at last. The animal-rights organization paid five grand to Nadya Suleman to put a sign on her lawn: “Don’t Let Your Dog or Cat Become an Octomom. Always Spay or Neuter.” Of all the positions PETA takes, I’m with them on this issue, but isn’t this a bit insulting to Octo? Equating her with a dog that flops down under the stairs and pops out the pups? Perhaps, but she needs the money: apparently she’s defaulted on a CBP, or “Crippling Balloon Payment,” and owes almost half a million on her house.
She must have thought great wealth would follow from having eight kids at once - and indeed, she did sign a reality show deal for a quarter-mil with a company that also did a series on F-list celeb Danny Bonaduce. But most people would watch her show only if she was attacked by sharks with frickin’ laser beams on their heads, because the only person who wore out their welcome faster was General Zod.
She could make the money by taking up the offer to do an X-rated movie for a million dollars, but she declined. As AP put it:
As an added incentive, the animal rights organization had said Wednesday it would throw in a month's supply of veggie burgers and veggie hot dogs for Suleman and her 14 children, who range in age from 1 to 8.
"No porn. Just Peta. Nadya prefers animals over men," Suleman's lawyer, Jeff Czech, said in an e-mail exchange with The Associated Press.
Mr Czech might want to take another run at that sentence before he mails it out again.
1. Peter Graves’ obit omits one long-forgotten job: his voice-over and introduction work for a U of M documentary series called “Matrix.” At least I think it was called “Matrix.” I did one show back in the 80s; learned to drive a Zamboni, and cleared a rink. Graves introduced the show, but I’m sure he did so from a distant studio, or used a double. Possibly sent his brother to do the job as Peter Graves, wearing a Peter Graves mask. I always waited for the moment when someone on “Mission: Impossible” would pull off one of those full-facial masks and they’d have the same face underneath.
2. Where did the name Graves come from? Did he just make it up? No: I found a genealogy site that says “Graves” was his grandfather’s middle name. His brother, James, modified the family name “Aurness,” shaved off a vowel, and passed the savings along to you. (He’s still alive, by the way - Jim Phelps may no longer be with us, but Matt Dillon is.
3. I can’t find his boyhood home. The phone directories at the paper only go back to 1953, and the only Aurness left in town - a fellow named Olaf - lived on the north side, at 5208 Camden. Probably Graves’ uncle. Graves said he remembered the days when Minneapolis stopped at 54th, and the creek; he was a Southwest kid, which means he probably took in a movie or two at the Twins - later the Boulevard - at 53rd and Lyndale. (The video store that occupies the theater’s space just announced it will close; one of those Grandfather’s-Clock things, perhaps. This old shot shows the theater in '74, when the red sign was blue.)
4. Wikipedia says Graves was disappointed he didn’t get the role of Jim Phelps in the “Mission: Impossible” movie, but I prefer to think he was relieved when he saw the movie. They made Jim Phelps into a traitor, which is like making Steve McGarrett a Chinese spy.
Found this while poking through the file cabinets in the library:
You may say: so? Well: it's a promotional still from "Roman Scandals," a movie released in 1933. (I've seen it, too. Not that hot, although it has a Busby Berkeley number with a very young, and extremely blonde, Lucille Ball.) When I come across things like this I'm reminded how deep our archives are, how far back they go; the tireless employees have digitized much, but there's only so much they can do. Don't know what we have unless you know what you're looking for.
So how about helping out? Send me the name of an old obscure person, a long-forgotten movie star, a politician, and I'll see what I can find. Everyone who had a half-second of fame walked in front of a camera somewhere, and chances are the picture has been undisturbed for decades. The other day, for example, I found this guy:
Not who you think. But close. Famous mostly for being the son of the guy with the sleepy eyes who just didn't care. Anyway: send your requests to email@example.com, and I'll see what I can do.
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