A joke in the traditional manner

Why was the dairy barn empty?

No spoilers; the punchline is in the comments.

See also: What do cows like to watch on TV?

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All OCA jokes in the traditional manner

Chock full o’Zippy

[“Eel Bending.” Zippy, February 2, 2025. Click for a larger view.]

Zippy and Zerbina’s favorite restaurants in New York City are indeed real restaurants.

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All OCA Chock full posts : Zippy posts (Pinboard)

Twelve movies

Three Strangers (dir. Jean Negulesco, 1946). London, 1938: a woman (Geraldine Fitzgerald) in possession of a statue of the goddess Kwan Yin, enlists two strangers (Sydney Greenstreet and Peter Lorre) to join her in making a wish to the goddess at midnight of the Chinese New Year (midnight: in what time zone?). Many complications follow, none of which I’m willing to rehearse here. Suffice it to say that this is a movie best watched for atmosphere (and even the title sequence is a nod to The Maltese Falcon). The best line is Lorre’s: “Never get mixed up with a Chinese goddess.” ★★★ (TCM)

*

The True Story of Lynn Stuart (dir. Lewis Seiler, 1958). A superior B movie, based, yes, on a true story that’s even more extraordinary than the one told her. Grieved by the loss of her sister’s son to an overdose, Phyllis Carter (Betsy Palmer), a Los Angeles “housewife” with no police training, insists that the cops and her husband permit her to go undercover to help catch narcotics traffickers. Phyllis becomes “Lynn Stuart,” out on parole after helping in a bank heist, now working as a carhop at a drive-in restaurant where she meets trafficker Willie Down (Jack Lord) and strikes up a relationship with him. The danger grows and grows, and Phyllis soon finds that she’s in deeper than she had expected (and imagine: in real life, she did this work for six years). ★★★★ (YT)

*

From the Criterion Channel feature Love in Disguise

This Is the Night (dir. Frank Tuttle, 1932). When javelin-thrower Stephen (Cary Grant, in his screen debut) gets back home from the Olympics ahead of schedule, he finds that his wife Claire (the ill-fated Thelma Todd) has been planning to travel to Venice with her lover Gerald (Roland Young) — uh-oh. But Gerald’s friend Bunny (Charles Ruggles) saves the day by saying that, no, the tickets are for Gerald and his wife. The one snag: Gerald isn’t married, so the charming Germaine (Lili Damita) is hired to take on the role, and all five are off to Venice, with amusing complications to follow. “Another javelin lesson, I suppose”: that’s pre-Code! ★★★★

Thirty Day Princess (dir. Marion Gering, 1934). The kingdom of Taronia is in financial trouble, and banker Richard Gresham (Edward Arnold) has a plan: a goodwill tour of the United States with Princess Catterina, aka Zizzi (Sylvia Sidney), to get backing for millions in bonds. The plan’s opponent: newspaper publisher Porter Madison III (Cary Grant). The princess is supposed to win him over, but when she comes down with the mumps, Gresham finds a lookalike to play her part: bit actress Nancy Lane (also Sidney). A sweet, witty farce ensues. ★★★★

The Princess Comes Across (dir. William K. Howard, 1936). Carole Lombard is down-on-her-luck Brooklyn-born Wanda Nash, an actress who poses as the Garbo-like Princess Olga to sail across the Atlantic back to the States. Fred MacMurray is King (heh) Mantell, concertina player extraordinaire and ship’s entertainer. Also onboard: a killer, a blackmailer, and five international detectives. Not especially funny, not especially saucy. ★★

The Major and the Minor (dir. Billy Wilder, 1942). Ginger Rogers is Susan Applegate, who poses as an eleven-year-old (“Su-Su”) to get a cheaper ticket back to Iowa from New York, and on the train she meets up with Major Philip Kirby (Ray Milland), who’s headed back to the Indiana military school where he teaches, and to his fiancée (Rita Johnson). We can see “Uncle Philip,” as Su-Su calls him, fight back his feelings for the pseudo-child again and again: he lights up and then appears to remind himself, “Yeah, but she’s eleven.” A weirdly sentimental touch: Ginger Rogers pretended to be younger to get a cheaper fare when traveling the vaudeville circuit by train with her mother, and here, in her one screen role, Lela Rogers, Ginger’s mother, plays Susan’s mother. The Major and the Minor, Wilder’s first American movie, is exceedingly strange. ★★

*

Nocturne (dir. Edward L. Marin, 1946). Had we seen it? Oh, right, we’d seen it. George Raft is Joe Warne, an LAPD detective doggedly investigating what everyone thinks was a songwriter’s suicide. This time around the movie reminded me of The Big Sleep: the leaps of logic with which Joe solves the case defy logic. ★★★ (YT)

*

The Threat (dir. Felix E. Feist, 1949). “Red” Kluger (Charles McGraw) escapes from Folsom hellbent on killing the detective (Michael O’Shea) and district attorney who put him away. Kluger, his goons, his victims-to-be, and a former flame (Virginia Grey), held against her will, hole up a shack in the desert, waiting for the plane that will take Kluger and his comrades to safety. The obvious flaw in this story: any right-thinking feral convict would kill his victims right away. But, of course, it’s a movie, and it offers grisly violence, genuine suspense, and a clever bit of conversation that saves the day. ★★★ (M)

*

Mulholland Drive (dir. David Lynch, 2001). “It’s been a very strange day,” says one character. “And getting stranger,” says another. Los Angeles as a city of dreams, Los Angeles as a city of nightmares and self-destruction, with trope after trope after trope marching across the screen. I have to admit — rightly or wrongly — that I lack the patience to try to work out “the meaning” when I suspect that I’m watching a story whose meaning is ultimately unknowable. ★★★ (CC)

*

None Shall Escape (dir. André de Toth, 1944). A movie of the future: made while the war was still going, it depicts a trial in which a Nazi officer, Wilhelm Grimm (Alexander Knox), must answer for his crimes against humanity, as recounted by a trio of witnesses: his brother (Erik Rolf), a Catholic priest (Henry Travers), and a Polish woman to whom Grimm was once engaged (Marsha Hunt). The movie is unflinching in its depiction of atrocity and casual cruelty. It’s also Marsha Hunt’s finest hour, in a role that calls for great emotional range. The most moving scene: the train platform and Kaddish. ★★★★ (TCM)

*

The Hangman Waits (dir. A. Barr-Smith, 1947). Short and strange, a story of Scotland Yard and the press working to track down a murderer. Hitchcock-like at times in its quick pace and reliance on implication; Lynch-like, really, in its gruesome weirdness. Many telephones, typewriters, and Linotype machines in use — a church organ too. So poverty-stricken that it makes Detour look like a Hollywood extravaganza. ★★★ (YT)

*

Emilia Pérez (dir. Jacques Audiard, 2024). A Mexican drug lord, Manitas Del Monte (Karla Sofía Gascón), hires a lawyer (Zoe Saldaña) to arrange for gender-affirming surgery. Leaving a wife (Selena Gomez) and two young sons behind, Manitas is reborn as Emilia Pérez, and finds a new role in life as the leader of a movement to recover Mexico’s disappeared. A curious question as Emilia’s new life develops: is she still really Manitas after all? An extraordinarily inventive movie, a mix of musical and thriller, with overtones of Hamilton, Vertigo, Jacques Demy, and “the woman’s picture.” ★★★★ (N)

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All OCA “twelve movies” posts (Pinboard)

HCR on bombshells

Heather Cox Richardson writes today about several bombshells.

[HCR is a reliable source for facts with context.]

Pause, a Mac app

“Periodically reminds you to take a break, and step away from the computer”: Pause is a free app for macOS, by Harshil Shah, available from the App Store.

I tried four or five such apps this weekend. To my mind (or eyes), Pause is simplest and best. Thank you, Harshil, for sharing your work.

[For twenty minutes of screen time, twenty seconds of looking at something twenty feet away — that’s one way to manage your vision.]

Ben Webster, “Come Sunday”

Add some music to the day: “Come Sunday,” from Duke Ellington’s Black, Brown and Beige (1943). Ben Webster, tenor saxophone; Oscar Peterson, piano; Niels-Henning Ørsted Pedersen, bass; Tony Inzalaco, drums. December 14, 1972, Hanover, Germany.

Staten Island north

[9 Carroll Place, Staten Island, c. 1939–1941. From the NYC Municipal Archives Collections. Click for a much larger view.]

One more Staten Island tax photograph, from the northern tip of Forgotten Borough, looking a bit scary. Today it’s a million-dollar house. Here’s a page with a few more photographs.

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More photographs from the NYC Municipal Archives (Pinboard)

Today’s Saturday Stumper

Today’s Newsday  Saturday Stumper is by Stan Newman, the puzzle’s editor, constructing as “Anna Stiga” (Stan Again). The pseudonym is supposed to be the sign of an easier puzzle, but I found this one quite challenging. (Forty-one minutes.) One difficulty: the puzzle’s northwest and southeast sections each have just one point of exit or entry. No other cross streets, so to speak.

Some clue-and-answer pairs of note:

2-D, nine letters, “‘Jezebel of Jazz’ who sang with Satchmo and Shearing.” Yes! But how she must have hated that name. She sang with Louis Armstrong at least once, sort of. With George Shearing, I just don’t know. But Stan must be a fan.

4-D, seven letters, “Mused till morning.” Kinda misleading.

5-D, six letters, “Billy Bob or Angelina, in 2000.” If you say so. I don’t have much patience for this sort of factoid.

10-D, eight letters, “Household wedge.” Neat. My first thought was HANDIRON.

17-A, eight letters, “Suckers ready to scam.” A nicely colloquial answer, but I think “to be scammed” would be clearer.

18-A, five letters, “Sucker with sensors.” Ha.

23-D, seven letters, “Word from Malay ‘fish sauce.’” Huh.

29-D, nine letters, “Muppet collectibles, e.g.” I’d want something less blatantly commercial as an example.

30-D, nine letters, “‘Best musical satirist of the 20th century,’ per Dr. Demento.” The doctor is right.

33-A, seven letters, “What to do at a reunion.” Crossing with 23-D, this answer is a bit of extra fun.

39-D, six letters, “Hail-fellow well met.” Well, I’ll be: that’s an adjective.

40-A, eight letters, “Advocate hyperactively.” I imagine people might still be said to do it.

42-D, five letters, “The loudest of them was 112 decibels, per Guinness (2021).” Ick.

My favorite in this puzzle:49-A, eight letters, “What might cover your elbows.” Academic that I am, or was, I thought of suede patches. But I like this answer better.

No spoilers; the answers are in the comments.

A store-brand crossword

On the back of a box of Great Value cereal (Brown Flakes), a strange crossword. The 15 × 15 grid includes eight two-letter answers and six squares that don’t cross other squares, giving the puzzle something of the look of the simple crosswords that might appear in the back pages of a tabloid. And yet the puzzle includes some wildly out-of-the-way clues and answers:

1-A, five letters, “Egg white.”

1-A, four letters, “Growl.”

13-A, seven letters, “Not freely moving.”

35-A, four letters, “Fetid.”

54-D, four letters, “Portable ice-box.” The Internets tell me that this answer is Australian slang.

I don’t think AI created this puzzle — unless someone forgot to tell it to make every letter cross. The answers, if you want them, are in the cereal aisle, on the side of the box. Also in the comments.

[Brown Flakes: à la Wallace & Gromit: Vengeance Most Fowl.]

Down to the Gulf of Mexico

The Associated Press is down with the Gulf of America:

The Associated Press will refer to it by its original name while acknowledging the new name.... As a global news agency that disseminates news around the world, the AP must ensure that place names and geography are easily recognizable to all audiences.

Yeah, but “Gulf of Mexico” is already easily recognizable to all audiences. Particularly to blues audiences. As Mississippi Fred McDowell sang:

The 61 highway, longest road I know
You know it reach from Atlanta, Georgia,
    down to the Gulf of Mexico

[“As the major route northward out of Mississippi, U. S. Highway 61 has been of particular inspiration to blues artists. The original road began in downtown New Orleans, traveled through Baton Rouge, and ran through Natchez, Vicksburg, Leland, Cleveland, Clarksdale, and Tunica in Mississippi, to Memphis and north to the Canadian border.... Although many bluesmen used the lyrics ‘Highway 61, longest road that I know,’ their descriptions of the highway’s route were often misleading”: Highway 61 Blues (Mississippi Blues Trail).]