Elderism #74

“I’m older; I have a great love of the English parlance. I can’t stand dipshit, tattooed, lacquered, varnished, depilatoried younger people talking their stupid shit, stage-sighing, saying “It’s like, I’m like, whatever,” and talking in horrible clichés, rolling their eyes when they disapprove of something.”

– 62 year-old crime novelist James Ellroy in an interview with Keith Phillips in “The Onion’s” culture-centric sibling, “A.V. Club.” The author of L.A. Confidential proudly admits to “unplugging” himself from current culture with the hopes of steering clear of “vile misogynistic horror films, white-trash reality-TV shows, neck-biting fucked-up vampire flicks, and stoned-out teenage-boy pratfall comedies” that “pander” to what is apparently one big “Real World” casting call of a generation.

But Ellroy doesn’t spend all of his time complaining; he’s much more “party” than “pooper” these days. In the rest of the article he speaks about his recently-released second memoir, how he was “conjoined” with author Erika Schickel, and how he’s starring in an upcoming television series with his sidekick Barko, a womanizing, drug-dealing, badge-wearing, computer-animated bull terrier.

“It’s a gas,” says Ellroy.

10 Things to Talk About This Weekend

Tom Stoppard says he wants to die via a falling bookcase. And other conversation gambits from my Times column.

Elderism #73

“I’m a millionaire, but I cut the grass. It’s satisfying. Every blade that’s cut in half dies, for sure. But the other half springs back to life.”

-83 year-old musician Chuck Berry, in an article by Neil Strauss in the most recent issue of Rolling Stone. We witness the sometimes difficult-to-work-with Berry—Keith Richards once said of him, “I love his work, but I couldn’t warm to him even if I was cremated next to him”—waiting to accept one work proposal until that proposal is made more “loveable.”

But by article’s end, the portrait of the inventor of rock & roll  that emerges is less crankypants than hopemongering: “I want to do something I know will last after I leave,” Berry says. “…Something as powerful as ‘My Ding-A-Ling.”

Possible Conversation Topics for the Upcoming Weekend

My New York Times column here. Calvin Klein’s 20 year-old boyfriend, our President’s forehead, Fidel Castro’s apology, imminent changes to the O.E.D.–let the conversationing begin!

Thought of the Day

The Ground Zero mosque: If a former Burlington Coat factory is “hallowed ground,” then London Fog’s headquarters must be Mecca.

Cancer: The Upside

Two recent articles take a not-so-traditional look at cancer.

A piece in Wednesday’s New York Times reported that according to a study published by The New England Journal of Medicine, “patients who began receiving palliative care immediately upon diagnosis not only were happier, more mobile and in less pain as the end neared – but they also lived nearly three months longer.” The study showed that patients with fast-growing lung cancer who received treatment for the physical and psychological symptoms of the disease experienced “less depression and happier lives as measured on scales for pain, nausea, mobility, worry, and other problems.”

Contrary to the rumors that engulfed the debate over last year’s health care reform – “Death Panels” looking to “pull the plug” on Granny – the study showed that proper end-of-life care could actually be more effective in extending life than typical treatment. The authors theorized that “patients whose pain is treated often sleep better, eat better, and talk more with relatives,” minimizing their depression, which has been “known to shorten life.” Also, those who had undergone counseling and had discussed their options at length with their doctor typically chose to forego more aggressive treatments as their condition worsened, keeping them out of hospitals, which “are dangerous places for very sick people; they may get fatal blood infections, pneumonia or bedsores, or simply be overwhelmed by the powerful drugs and radiation attacking their cancer.”

And over at Salon.com, Mary Elizabeth Williams has declared the week following her cancer diagnosis “the best week of [her] kickass life.” After announcing that her doctor had discovered melanoma on her scalp, Ms. Williams received an overwhelming number of emails, phone calls, and visitors with bottles of wine in hand. Strangers wrote in with everything from their “own stories of living with disease and beating the odds” to recommendations for “alternative healers in Illinois.” Her friends offered her the use of their medical marijuana cards and assured her that “wig sex is hot.” Though she has yet to undergo surgery, and is even unsure about how far the disease has spread, Ms. Williams writes that the love coming from the people around her has “kicked lousy news in the face” and given her the strength to tell cancer that it “picked the wrong crazy bitch to mess with.”

10 Things to Talk About This Weekend

#9.  According to the New York Post, women who go on “Eat Pray Love”-inspired sojourns often feel burned. There’s never a pot of Javier Bardem at the end of that rainbow.

And other possible topics of conversation here.

The Senator and the Bad Romance

Close your eyes. Imagine you are at a Lady Gaga concert. What do you see? A smoke-filled stage and a flaming angel statue? Check. A gang of muscular, nearly nude, male back-up dancers wearing what can only be called minimalist lederhosen? Yup. Gaga herself decked out in lingerie that looks like it was fashioned out of fishnet and a freshly-killed raven? Of course. Hordes of young fans screaming to the lyrics to songs about getting black-drunk in a cab, Mexican ex-lovers, and stalking celebrities? Definitely. New Jersey Senator Frank Lautenberg, the oldest member of the Senate, celebrating his 86th birthday with his wife, Bonnie? You bet.

That’s right. While every other 86 year-old was spending his birthday at home, opening box-set after box-set of Ken Burns documentaries, and gumming down sugar-free birthday cake, Sen. Lautenberg was at Radio City Music Hall tearing it up with the First Lady of glam-rock-electro-pop-dance. When asked why he chose to attend the concert in the first place, the Senator, like most Gaga-goers, said he was looking for a bit of escape from the daily grind:

“Last week in Washington was like a bad romance. I wanted my birthday to be a little more fun.”

A Lady Gaga concert: More fun than sitting through an Appropriations Committee hearing.

I Go Columnar

So. I have started writing a weekly column for the New York Times called  “Crib Sheet.” Rearing its ugly little head each Thursday, it will be a list of ten interesting and timely conversation topics for the weekend ahead.

Here is the second one that has run.  In it, we learn that my new mantra is something that Oprah Winfrey apparently once said about herself, “Oprah doesn’t do stairs.” My notion here is that, if you are asked to do anything you don’t wish to–clean the garage, have dinner in a neighboring state, turn the channel–simply reply, “Oprah doesn’t do stairs.” Then proceed as before.

UPDATE. Here are the columns for 4/22, 4/29, 5/6, 5/13, 5/20, 5/27, 6/3, 6/10, 6/16, 6/23, 6/30, 7/7, 7/14, 7/21, 7/29, 8/4, 8/11.

La Symphonie Radiateure

In my New York City apartment, I have a noisy radiator–a real “talker.” I recorded it (and 9 other radiators in the metropolitan area), creating a musical composition which I then presented to a classical music expert.

It all airs this weekend on the public radio show, “Studio 360.” (The clip is here.). Hiss boom bah.