Treehouse of Horror XXV Review

One of our recent cherished Halloween traditions is viewing the annual Simpsons Treehouse of Horror special. I fall into the category of Simpsons fans who felt abandoned by the series years ago, I still tune in for Treehouse of Horror, and the once every 2.5 year Sideshow Bob episode (as well as the occasional Lisa-centric story).

I don't really know if there's a single reason for the overall dip in quality of The Simpsons. I've read everything from Mike Scully to the Fox executives, and I'm sure a lot of those things are factors. One of the problems is that the show has been on for twenty-five years, and you simply can't maintain a golden era for that long.

My personal opinion is that Seth MacFarlane success has had an unfortunate effect on the very program that allowed him his success. I don't really have a nice way of saying this, but I think MacFarlane is a heartless bully who only has on average three funny jokes per episode of Family Guy. But it seems that a significant portion of The Simpsons's writing staff is made up of people who believe that MacFarlane's bar is what they should be aiming for.

I'll gripe more about that in a minute, but another problem is that over the course of seventy-five individual Halloween segments The Simpsons have probably covered this territory. The most recent segment which truly felt classic to me was 2010's Dial 'M' for Murder or Press '#' to Return to Main Menu, both in terms of using a solid source to parody as well as taking on its own identity as a complete story with a beginning, middle and end.

Well, with suitably low expectations, let's take a look at this year's offering and see what we have to learn from it.

Treehouse of Horror XXV

 

The opening was a disappointment, but after the previous year's Guillermo del Toro masterpiece they may as well not have bothered. In fact they kind of didn't, simply showing a quick montage of the past twenty-five years and then...um...dead people on a wall? Screw it, let's go to the first segment.

 

School in Hell

 

Let me get this out of the way up front. The Simpsons needs to stop doing jokes about Christianity, simply on the grounds that they don't know how to do it. A joke has to be funny first, then you can step into offensive territory as needed. But writing an offensive joke doesn't make it funny. Now somebody tell Seth MacFarlane to write that on the chalkboard.

 

Okay, this segment starts out promising enough. Principal Skinner is always a delight in the Halloween episodes, probably because his self-restraint gets loosened up a little. Bart goes to hell. Old news, but the premise is fine. He wants to stay. That's predictable. He does well there. And?

 

There were so many missed opportunities with this concept and most of them have to do with Lisa. Suppose Bart had left hell with Lisa and then needed her to get him back there once he decided that he belonged there? What if instead of Homer being the sinner Bart had to torture, it had been Lisa? "Lisa? What did she ever do?" Or better yet, what if Bart realized that he wasn't cut out for life in hell, but it turned out Lisa actually took to it quite well? Like I say, the second half just didn't GO anywhere.

 

For the record, Pat Benatar's song about child abuse was really not a wise selection for this context.

 

A Clockwork Yellow

 

Doing a parody of A Clockwork Orange at this point in Simpsons history feels like a bit of a reach, but I'll admit they handled it surprisingly well. A special kudos for giving Moe the Malcolm McDowell role instead of Homer. Moe has always been one of my favorite characters on the show, and as the perpetual helpless powder keg his violent streak is put to wonderful use here.

 

Even if you're not familiar with Stanley Kubrick's films the jokes come fast and hit their targets. The sight of these four grown men hopping in and out of the Kwik-E-Mart is delightfully humorous on its own, but when you set it up with the line from A Clockwork Orange (that I dare not explain here) it adds a whole new layer of satire.

 

A Clockwork Yellow proves to be the strongest entry in this year's Treehouse. With a bunch of London-centric references that feel inspired without being gratuitous and a quick survey of Kubrick's career (did I miss a Dr. Strangelove nod somewhere?) this segment does what Treehouse of Horror is supposed to do.

 

The Others

 

I think the seven minute format worked against this segment. The concept of the Simpsons meeting their former selves is actually pretty sophisticated, but they don't have enough room to really explore the idea. Marge competing with herself and then getting along with herself is about as deep as they manage, but there was a real potential for something truly special to happen here.

 

I think The Simpsons should have broken with tradition and done a single story arc through the whole Halloween episode. One, you could actually have done a parody of The Others and gotten Tracey Ullman to voice the old woman. Two, if the original incarnations are ghosts, how/why did they die?

 

And three, it's kind of an injustice to not give each character their moment to really look at themselves. How would Homer really take to dealing with someone who is himself? Did Bart turn out to be the character he'd wanted to be twenty-five years ago? Is Lisa happier as a blank slate or an outcast genius? What would it reveal to us if MaggieX2 could talk to herself?

 

Basically it was a good idea that couldn't develop. And dare I say that looking at the payoff gag at the end of the episode with multiple versions of the family arriving at the house that there might actually be a solution to The Simpson's stagnation here? Scooby Doo (comment on my fan fiction damn it!) has been through multiple incarnations and styles. Not all of them are good and they each have their flaws, but the powers behind the gang are also able to breathe new life into the characters and explore their personalities in ways that you really can't with a set-in-stone formula.

 

Maybe The Simpsons is due for an overhaul. What if they tried a version of the show where a story arc ran through an entire season, with consequences and character development? I'm sure there would be a backlash but I also think people would warm up to the idea of getting back to character driven plots. It's ultimately why The Simpsons has lasted so long.

Scooby Doo's Unsolved Mystery ~Part Four: Fred's Trap

Click here for the Table of Contents for Scooby Doo's Unsolved Mystery.

Part Four

Now I could die happy. I'd gone for a ride in the Mystery Machine. The only thing that could make my life better would be an invitation into the TARDIS.

Fred Jones had to be the single nicest person I’d ever met in my life. All I’d done was send him an e-mail asking how he’d feel about a phone interview for an article on their experience at C.S. Barley’s museum. An hour later I received a response. Fred offered to drive me out to the old site. In the Mystery Machine. I melted.

Okay, poor word choice considering what Scooby had told me about the Spooky Soothsayer's fate, but it took all of my self control just to limit my giggling like an idiot to no more than thirty percent of the trip. Something about the green metallic beast just gave me a sense that I was at a home that I hadn't previously known I was a part of.

Fred and I gabbed about things and stuff; nothing crucial, just...whatever, man. Exotic locations travelled to, irreplaceable personalities met. Fred clearly missed the old gang, even though he admitted mystery solving is really better in phases than in a constant barrage of masks and menaces.

We'd arrived at the general store he and the rest of Mystery Inc. had visited so long ago. According to Fred, little about the place had changed except for the management. He'd insisted on stopping here, partially to retrace his steps and jog his memory of the event, but mostly because this store was where he'd bought the supplies on his previous trip to build the infamous trap which had ultimately failed. Fred was going to show me first hand exactly what had happened.

He'd gone on inside while I took a few snapshots of the store's exterior. I still had the chorus of "Trap of Love" stuck in my head (I'll never figure out how Fred had managed to get The Hex Girls on 8-track) and somehow it was starting to feel like the background anthem for this ongoing attempt of mine to create a story out of a situation that seemed reluctant to be created. By this point I was considering the possibility that my Unsolved Mystery piece might be a bit of a bust that I could hopefully disguise as journalism with a few carefully distracting pictures.

I finally went into the store and immediately began to scout for the Scooby Doo coffee mugs that Velma had mentioned being here. I know I could get one of those just about anywhere but it would take on a personal meaning if I could find one at this store. Fred was speaking with the woman at the counter.

"Can you tell me where your nets are?" he asked her.

She indifferently pointed him in the direction towards my spot. I quickly surveyed the cans of fluorescent spray paint and extensive collection of personal flash lights until I found what I thought he was looking for.

"Is this it?" I held up the biggest butterfly net I could find.

"Not exactly," he joined me and grabbed an armload of bulbs. "There is probably a large roll of fishing net."

"So large enough to drop on someone."

"Actually large enough to build a bigger butterfly net," he said proudly. "I remember the crane was designed to sweep down sideways and scoop up the ghost like a fish in an aquarium."

"Is that way more effective?"

"It depends on where we are. With lower ceilings you sometimes have to improvise." He found the netting he needed and began loading up my arms with wire and batteries. "So Sheriff Braxton?" he asked me, returning to our previous conversation in the van.

“Velma said that the signs were pointing to the Sheriff until you all found that ticket stub to PhantomCon.”

“Yeah, I always thought there was something about that guy. But him dressing up like the Soothsayer never seemed to make much sense.”

I could tell Fred really wanted to agree with me, if for no other reason than to confirm the person inside the costume hadn't in fact been killed. But in truth I was really reaching for straws.

"Technically the Sheriff was never ruled out. What if the ticket stub was a red herring?"

Fred grumbled. "I've never liked those."

"Okay, let's say Daniel did go to PhantomCon and somewhere along the way he did inadvertently drop his ticket stub. If you guys hadn't stumbled across it where would the investigation have gone?"

“I don’t know. Coincidences are pretty rare in mystery solving. I think what Velma was getting at was that Daniel gotten there when we had. Until then no one in the museum had even heard of the Soothsayer. ”

"That they admitted to," I said a little more enthusiastically than I was intending. "Somebody is lying about something."

"Well, this is true," Fred laughed. "nobody ever told Shaggy to look for clues in the kitchen."

We set a mountain of stuff on the counter in front of the worker. She shot us both a glance. "Is there anything else?"

"Do you still carry Scooby Doo coffee mugs?"

She huffed. "Try looking under that stack of old ponchos."

One thing I learned from this whole experience is that Shaggy doesn't get enough credit for bravery. I stood outside the abandoned Barley Museum with a chill running down to my ankles. 'Creepy' was an unqualified euphemism to describe the face of this decaying yet still hungry façade that we were about to voluntarily set foot into. "I can't do this," I thought, fully agreeing with the imaginary horror movie audience in my head screaming at me not to go in there.

"All right," Fred lit up, paralleling his flashlight, "Let's go."

Fred Jones was fearless, perhaps psychotically so, and Velma certainly had the same lack of flight response. I hadn't met Daphne, but either she was as unconcerned about her well-being as the other two, or she fed off of Fred's charisma. The latter was certainly what I was doing. The moment he said "Let's go" my feet obeyed, despite how convinced I was that I would be jumping into his arms at the first floor squeak.

We were in the foyer area and Fred shone his flashlight beam on the opposite wall. "That's where Barley's coffin used to be." He waited patiently for my response before kindly giving it to me, gesturing at my camera. Oh yeah. I forgot I wanted to remember this whole experience. -snap-

Fred gave me a quick tour of the now empty rooms he and the gang had explored. I traced the barrel's path which had deposited him outside during the final chase. -snap- I saw the room where Daphne had been stashed after her kidnapping. -snap- The hallway where Velma had lost her glasses. -snap- And the entire time Fred was completely nonplussed by the overwhelming sense of dread this place induced in me. I'll admit, after the series of causal "There's where Daphne found the ticket stub",  "There's where we had the collision with Daniel" and "There's where Lindsey screamed about the presence of the dog" I was feeling significantly more at ease.

Finally at long last we went down into the cellar where the trap had failed and the Soothsayer's fate had been sealed. It was completely empty now, save for a few cobwebs and dust. Fred got to work rebuilding a mock-up of his trap in the exact spot he'd had it previously, right at the bottom of the staircase.

"Do you need me to do anything?" I offered.

"No thanks. I have a rhythm to this," he replied.

Based on the skeleton of the trap, it looked as though Shaggy and Scooby were to have gotten the Soothsayer to chase them down the stairs where the well-timed release of the trap would cause the huge net to scoop up anyone at the bottom of the steps and then rotate on an axis to dump the victim into a predesigned location.

"What used to be down here?"

"Some sort of processing machine. There was a huge vat of molten wax in the middle of the room." He seemed uncomfortable mentioning it.

"Was that where the Soothsayer fell?"

Fred only nodded, still being focused on the task at hand.

"Could he have been fake?" I suggested.

"The spooks usually are."

"I mean if C.S. Barley had been dealing with wax figures, could the Soothsayer you captured have melted because it wasn't real?"

"Believe me, I'd love to say that's what happened," said Fred. "But I heard a scream as he went under the surface."

I was getting tired of holding the camera so I put it on the floor while I sat on the bottom step, mulling the mystery over. It took me a few moments to work up the courage to ask, but I figured if I could handle the museum I could handle awkwardness. "Could you be wrong?"

"About what?"

"The scream."

I guess I threw off Fred's rhythm, because he stopped working and looked at me curiously. I'd hoped I hadn't hurt his feelings.

"When I was at Velma's bookshop," I explained, "I had an unexpected run in with her wax figure. My own brain added a growl to him, which under other circumstances I might have sworn I'd actually heard."

"You think I imagined the scream?"

"You'd just watched you trap drop someone into a vat of boiling wax. Stress can play tricks on you."

Fred ran that through his mind a few times, and I could tell that the thought of not having been involved in someone's death was giving him hope. "You think Velma was right all along?"

"I don't know. Did Daphne hear a scream as well?"

"She said she did," answered Fred. "Of course she felt even more responsible. She was on that side of the room waiting to release the sandbags on the Soothsayer when the net got to her spot. When her dress got caught on the lever opening the top of the vat it-"

He was cut off by the sound of the front door opening and shutting. For a moment we just stared at each other. Several possibilities ran through my head (most of them involving the Soothsayer and a missing journalist) before I made the connection that the van was outside and Sheriff Braxton had made his feelings about Mystery Inc. quite clear.

"Are we supposed to be here?" I asked Fred.

"No. Run," he advised.


My one chance at a really classic Scooby-Doo chase scene was undermined by my own stupidity. I'd forgotten my camera down in the cellar. And of course when I went back for it I sprung Fred's trap and wound up being carried across the room in the netting I'd helped him purchase.

Yes, it was indeed the Sheriff, just not Sheriff Braxton. Sheriff Henning, in between helping me out of the trap and trying not to laugh out loud, informed us that Sheriff Braxton had recently left his old job to make a run for Governor. He'd left explicit instructions to arrest any member of Mystery Inc. on sight, which Sheriff Henning was choosing to ignore in exchange for a photograph of him with Fred. I was happy to oblige.


We were back in the Mystery Machine and "Trap of Love" was back in my head. I couldn't help but feel a little discouraged by the revelation about Sheriff Braxton. He'd evidently been trying to run for Governor for a while now but hadn't managed to stir up the necessary funding. When Sheriff Henning told us that I thought "That's it! We've got the motive!" only to then figure out that Braxton hadn't run in any previous elections, suggesting that he hadn't walked out of the museum with whatever had been locked in the coffin.

That also inadvertently answered my question about Velma's Scrapbook. With Braxton going into politics, people were going to try to dig up dirt on him. At some point, someone would be asking the same questions I was asking, and Velma (consistently being a step ahead of the rest of us) was going to have the information ready to go for anyone who made their way to her bookstore. Like I said, discouraged.

Of course, Fred was in great spirits. He clearly missed the chase, and even though we'd accomplished jack sprat I could tell he'd really had fun. And honestly, so had I.

A few miles down the road and we were laughing about the whole thing. Fred assured me that getting caught in one of his traps was a rite of passage, and he even admitted to being as terrified as I was when we heard that front door. I guess he's not inhumanly fearless after all.

"Thank God the new Sheriff was a Mystery Inc. fan," I said.

"Yeah," he agreed, "It's always nice when we have a positive impact on people who recognize us."

They'd definitely had a positive impact on me. From the moment I'd spotted Shaggy in that café I'd been compelled to want to get involved in some-

Wait. What was it Shaggy had told me?

I pulled out my laptop where I had the transcript of his conversation saved and scrolled through it. Looking...for...

"Greebus!" I said without thinking.

"Greebus?" Fred chuckled, "What's that?"

I stared at him in personal bewilderment. "I think I just solved the mystery."


Scooby Doo's Unsolved Mystery will conclude with Part Five: Daphne's Treasure.

The Carousel: Splash Fiction

This is a quick one. I'm taking an online humor writing course and I churned this out for my first assignment. I hadn't posted anything new from The Carousel in a while, so I thought it might be time to start redirecting my brain in that direction, considering nanowrimo is almost three weeks away.

The First Step



In the past, Zel had looked forward to the school year beginning, but with an entirely new group of classmates she couldn't shake her anxiety. She was grateful to have received an invitation to a pre-semester pool party even if after forty-five minutes she was still all but invisible to the host and his thirteen close acquaintances.

 

Zel accepted that some of the blame was on her; after all, she'd faded into the background almost immediately on her arrival. Instead of romping with the louder students or finding a spot to lay out with the more sedate subset, Zel had taken to doing what she always did whenever she was nervous, putting things in their proper places. At this point, the beach chairs on the side of the pool were perfectly aligned, every beverage cup was precisely filled to three fourths of the way up, the table cloths were straightened and the shoebox full of compact disks were now alphabetized.

 

She sighed, staring at the mess of colorful candies in the bowl in front of her that she felt compelled to sort and separate. I shouldn't be here, she thought. Yes you should, she told herself unconvincingly. I'm miserable here. You'd be more miserable if you thought you were missing something.

 

Two voices in her head bickered back and forth while Zel stood immobile in her spot by the snack table. Three of her new classmates scurried by, each grabbing a drink she had poured for them but taking no more notice of her than they would a lawn ornament.

 

So what now, she thought. Start on the garage? Get in the pool, she ordered herself.

 

"Screw it," Zel muttered, tossing off the T-shirt she'd been concealing her bathing suit with. She strode to the bottom rung of the still unused high diving board and slid to the top like she was defying gravity. Zel had been diving her whole life, and if anything was guaranteed to get her noticed, this would be it.

 

She stepped all the way to the edge and surveyed her potential audience. They still hadn't noticed her, but she knew the loud rattle of the diving board would soon take care of that. And the complicated dive that she was focused on would leave an unforgettable impression, she was sure of it.

 

Zel paced herself backwards, carefully gaging the distance for her graceful leap, unconsciously counting the steps as she went. Four, five, six, then nothing. Zel's mind raced with the realization that she had stepped backward off the side of the diving board.

 

She instinctively twisted her body in an attempt to keep from falling off, and while she managed to complete a full pirouette, her balance was no longer accessible. She bounced off her back and rolled into midair.

 

Still trying to recover from the literal misstep, Zel tucked and straightened, at least getting her feet pointed downwards. It was at that moment she became aware of the lower diving board which had somehow escaped her attention over the past forty-five minutes. Not having expected to land on anything other than water, her whole body went limp as she absorbed the entire impact in an unconventional impact roll, starting with her knees and thighs, continuing with her stomach and ending with her face. It was a smooth roll indeed, barely affecting the lower board's motion. She landed in the pool in what could only be described as an inverted swan dive.

 

Zel stayed underwater for as long as she could, hoping to retrieve her dignity before finally surfacing to the unanimous gaze of classmate eyes who had been confused as to where she had come from.

 

"Did you guys see that?" she asked in resignation.

 

After an undeniable pause one of her classmates responded. "No, could you do it again?"

Editorial: The Curse of the Halloween Soundtrack

October has always been my favorite month. The weather finally settles on a manageable spectrum, the Pumpkin Spiced McBurrito is available at every Kentucky Microwaved Chicken, and it all leads up to the holiday season's opening act of Halloween; that one day out of the year where death is cordially invited to the masquerade.

If you've ever hosted any kind of social gathering at this time of year, you've inevitably had to deal with mixing a CD of Thriller, The Monster Mash, Ghostbusters, and then a bunch of songs that just barely qualify for the theme to fill out the remaining 68 minutes. You can tack on the Vienna Yodeling Choir's rendition of Toccata Fugue in D Minor or Tommy Shaw's version of The Munsters, but it's really going to be a stretch to make the tracks last all night.

Why is it so hard to find decent Halloween music? You'd think the demand for it would really compel artists to pull out the A-material and try to knock Michael Jackson out of that sole anthem spot. When I was in elementary school, we sang a LOT of Halloween songs, in English and in French (something about a phantom delivering a package I believe). We had professional records and we had song sheets of alternate lyrics to Christmas Carols. We even wrote a few ourselves. It was an exciting time of the year.

But maybe the problem is in how one markets Halloween songs. If the music is geared towards children, the fiends are more likely going to be up to mischief instead of ripping the flesh off of bystanders; with the possible exception of a Shel Silverstein album. And considering the appeal of Halloween still taps into our collective inner child, the really dark stuff doesn't necessarily play well the innocent side.

Another problem is the nature of music, it tends to be reassuring even in minor keys. Dick Smothers once described a hypothetical situation of staring down a darkened alleyway and seeing shadowy figures moving around; correctly identifying it as an unsafe place. But then changing the situation so the figures were all singing together, and suddenly the alleyway takes on a warm, inviting feel. Basically it's hard to be scary and harmonious at the same time.

But then again we're not talking about fear, we're talking about Halloween. And while fear is certainly associated with the holiday, the core of Halloween is about stepping out of one's comfort zone and experiencing something one doesn't ordinarily get to experience. There's a general mentality of unease about what the world could do to you, but a trust that you'll still get home safe and happy. It's kind of the roller coaster of the holiday fair.

So with all that in mind, I've combed through my memories of the past 41 Halloweens to dig up a few of the songs I've encountered that somehow manage to capture the musical feel of the holiday and have some lyrical connection to the world of the spooks. I'm making it a point to only find one song per artist/writer while avoiding musical soundtracks (The Rocky Horror Picture Show, The Nightmare Before Christmas, etc.) as well as 'goes without saying' songs like Rockwell's Somebody's Watching Me. Here they are in alphabetical order.

1. Black Sabbath, 1970 (artist: Black Sabbath, album: Black Sabbath)

What are the odds of three Black Sabbaths on one project? It must have been a pretty common name in the seventies. Okay, when parental groups talk about heavy metal corrupting young minds and turning them to the occult, this is probably the song they are referring to. Now I'm not a fan of Ozzy Osbourne, but this song captures the mood of sheer horror probably better than anything since. Unlike most heavy metal in which the singer usually assumes the role of the force in power, Osbourne takes on the role of the prey. The fright of the song comes from Osbourne's vocalization and how easy it is to believe that he believes it's really happening.

2. Feed My Frankenstein, 1991 (artist: Alice Cooper, album: Hey Stoopid)

It takes Ozzy Osbourne to make Alice Cooper seem toned down. Cooper's whole career has been about embracing the darkness of the human soul presumably because it's undefeatable any other way. You could probably pop in his whole Welcome to My Nightmare album on Halloween and be covered. This song is more about the fun side of darkness with Frankenstein serving as the metaphor for the Mr. Hyde inside Cooper's Dr. Jekyll.

3. Fright Night, 1985 (artist: The J. Geils Band, album: Fright Night Original Motion Picture Soundtrack)

Yeah, I said no soundtracks but this awesome movie (which trumps everything about its pathetic remake) wasn't a musical, with each song working just as well out of context. Good luck finding it though. It's never been released on CD. It's one of the few songs I know of that's literally about a vampire while being club danceable.

4. Ghost of a Chance, 1987 (artist: Cris Franco, album: none-Square One Television)

I would NEVER directly encourage anyone to take advantage of the many convenient ways to transfer an otherwise unobtainable song off the internet into one's personal collection, BUT if you're looking for a nice obscure Halloween song for your collection I'm happy to submit this catchy little gem. It's a kid's song teaching them the basics of probability, set to the plot of a pizza delivery guy who gets trapped in a haunted house with a poltergeist, some snakes and a mummy. His fate is unspecified.

5. The Monster is Loose, 2006 (artist: Meat Loaf, album: Bat out of Hell III: The Monster is Loose)

It's a similar concept to Feed My Frankenstein, except Meat Loaf's monster is loose because he's fed up with being contained while Cooper's Frankenstein is out because it's the way it is. Writer/producer Desmond Child does his best Jim Steinman imitation to mixed results. The lyrics on this song are silly, but the gothic music more than makes up for them.

6. Mr. Death, 1995 (artist: George "The Fat Man" Sanger, album: none-The 11th Hour)

Another hard to find track; go to Youtube and search for "I can't take a breath without seeing mr. death" (okay, I guess that wasn't so hard). If Black Sabbath is the most inherently frightening song on this list, Mr. Death is easily the eeriest. Between what sounds like a backwards drum track and lyrics that could almost have been improvised, the singer's resignation to his fate is haunting and oddly engaging.

7. Nature Trail to Hell, 1984 (artist: "Weird Al" Yankovic, album: "Weird Al" Yankovic in 3-D)

I thoroughly explicated this song during my blog series on Weird Al last June/July, but the thing that makes this one is the heavy chord progression. There is a fun factor to the more popular slasher films (otherwise people wouldn't watch them) and Nature Trail to Hell accurately celebrates the gladiatorial spirit of the masked maniac.

8. Original Sin, 1989 (artist: Pandora's Box, album: Original Sin)

This one is a bit of a cheat I suppose, but give it a listen and tell me it doesn't feel like you're in a dark chasm surrounded by other lost souls screaming to feel anything. There have been a few covers to this song, but the (no pun intended) original contains the most powerful use of the We Will Rock You drum beat in music history.

9. Queen of Spades, 1978 (artist: Styx, album: Pieces of Eight)

I don't know if this song is emulating the classic Alexander Pushkin story or if it's just about a really intense game of Old Maid but this song really nails the fortune teller/witch/sorceress archetype. The lesson here is: don't gamble. You'll lose. Probably die if you're lucky. Maybe get trapped forever to the sound of that diabolical laugh straight out of nightmares. Based on Tommy Shaw's guitar outro this one doesn't have a happy ending.

10. Those Meddlin' Kids, 1999 (artist: The Hex Girls, album: Scooby Doo & the Witch's Ghost)

But let's wind down on a note of hope and innocence, shall we? Damn right we shall. The soundtrack to Scooby Doo & the Witch's Ghost has quite a few solid tracks including an awesome instrumental version of the classic theme song. But Those Meddlin' Kids by fictional eco-goth band The Hex Girls is my absolute favorite. Poor grammar notwithstanding, the song sums up the timeless quality of the 45 year old animated series perfectly; some monster needs to be overcome, enter 'the gang' like the handsome stranger of the old tales of the west. What better way to wish the world a happy Halloween?

Scooby Doo's Unsolved Mystery ~Part Three: Scooby's Snack

Click here for the Table of Contents for Scooby Doo's Unsolved Mystery.

Part Three

*Note: portions of the conversation below have been edited for clarity

Now this was a hotel room. And I wasn't paying for it, at least not yet.

My editor had been kind (possibly exasperated) enough to set me up for a weekend at the Sheldorf with only the fleeting hope that my intended guest would be able to spare me a window of his time. If he showed, I didn't know where he was going to sit, so I arranged the den area with as many options as I could think of. We had the couch, we had the table, we had some cushions on the floor. Suffice to say, I was giddy with excitement.

Tracking him down had been fairly easy, but getting through his people (talking animals have people) had been challenging to say the least. I understood their protectiveness, considering his fuzzy face was worth around a billion dollars in revenue. I'd been given a list of questions which were off limits, none of which I would ever have thought to ask until they told me not to, and instructed to expect him at any time over the next two days (meaning I might have had to snap into work mode at three in the morning).

I did think it was considerate of them to send over a large sample of the infamous box of bribery known as Scooby Snacks for me to use as an offering, which I was promptly pouring into a clear bowl. What was it about these things? They apparently had the power to coerce an otherwise rational soul into the gambling of one's life. I read through the ingredients on the box looking for something addictive like absinthe slipped in right after monosodium glutamate, but no answers there.

I'll admit, one thing that always struck me as a bit of a puzzlement was the fact that Scooby Snacks were never offered as an incentive for after you arm wrestled the sasquatch, they always served as a nudge out the door. I couldn't help but wonder if they somehow managed to activate the part of the brain which caused one to honor whatever verbal contract had just been made. Maybe Scooby Snacks should be required hors d'oeuvres at any political conference.

I actually had one up to my lips when I was startled by a knock on the door. I dropped the treat back into the bowl, vowing to never admit to what had nearly happened, and scurried across the room. I hadn't expected anyone to show up so soon, but I figured one of his people would want to coach me on etiquette for things like how to address him, how to shake hands, etc.

I pulled my hotel room door open and time stopped for me. He was sitting there in the hallway, with his huge tail wagging and a grin on his massive face that could probably meet my eye level if he stood up on his hind legs. My mouth opened on its own even if no sound came from it, and I could feel my eyes were tearing up ever so slightly.

"Scooby Dooby Doo!" he howled.

At that moment I stopped being a professional journalist and became a six year old standing in front of a familiar Great Dane. Without any conscious decision on my part I knelt down and put my arms around his big furry neck and hugged him. "Aw," I heard his friendly voice respond as a heavy paw touched my shoulder. There are some moments you don't realize you wait your whole life for.


The cost of this for me was a commitment to ghost writing (no pun intended) Scooby's memoirs. Assuming Scooby would agree to my pitch, it would mean a new source of revenue for his people, a percentage for my editor, he'd have his story published and I'd have my name in tiny print on the bottom of the cover. Who besides me wouldn't be happy with the arrangement?

An empty bowl of Scooby Snacks later, the two of us were pretty much on the same page regarding the book deal. I foresaw two potential issues. The first was that Scooby was so utterly agreeable that it would be hard for me to find those dramatic beats required for a typical reader. Not that I was worried about the thing selling; Scooby would have a built in audience and a talking animal's memoirs had never been done before so we had the luxury of pioneering a sub-genre. But it would ultimately be my reputation on the line if we just phoned it in, and I couldn't risk not giving my all. As such, I'd gotten Scooby to agree to a full chapter on Scrappy.

The other issue was going to be my ability to translate Scooby's speech mannerisms. Usually I was able to understand him, but I still had no idea what "Rozevrarera" was even after hearing him use the word at least three times.

But the meeting was so friendly and fun for me that after an hour and two pizzas (of which I think I had one slice) I was substantially more excited about the book writing process, not to mention the numerous future meetings Scooby and I would inevitably be having.

We were winding it down for the evening, and I'd nearly forgotten my original intent for speaking with him when Scooby nodded to me and said in his loveably gruff voice, "So anything else you want to know?"

"There is one thing if you don't mind."

"Nope." he smiled.

"I've spoken with both Velma and Shaggy already-"

"Raggy," he chuckled at the mention of his buddy's name.

"Shaggy had mentioned there was an unsolved mystery."

"There was?"

"Yeah, he called it the Spooky Soothsayer." The moment I said that name Scooby's recollection of the event caused him to whimper. I apologized quickly. "Was this a bad experience?"

Scooby bobbed his head. "Daphne was crying."

I blinked. "She was crying?"

"Uh-huh. Fred had to hold her."

"What was she crying about?"

"Ghost!" said Scooby like he was reliving it. I thought maybe I should drop the subject but I was already invested enough in this one mystery that it didn't feel right to back off.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

Scooby trembled, and I felt guilty for asking, but then in a flash he was on his feet leaning over me in a menacing pose while snarling. He treated me to a rather complicated pantomime of what I assume his encounter with the Soothsayer had been like. I couldn't really follow it all, and at one point when Scooby was up on the table waving his paws I had to chew back a laugh, but the performance finally settled when Scooby sank down behind the sofa, reaching upwards and growling, only to disappear into silence.

I pushed past my speechlessness. "So he went underwater?"

Scooby shook his head. "Melted."

"He melted? Into what?"

Scooby made a sweeping gesture indicating a large area of the floor. "Boiling."

"The Soothsayer fell in?"

"Uh-huh!" Scooby hopped back on the couch, and I recognized his account of the events was over.

I wasn't quite ready to process what it sounded like had happened. "Velma says Daniel was the Soothsayer."

"Uh-uh!" Scooby stood firm. "Ghost!"

"Oh my God," I muttered. If I was harboring the hypothesis that Velma's memory of the story had been flawed then I certainly had to accept the Scooby's may have been as well. In fact I was hoping for it, because I'd never considered the possibility that one of Mystery Inc.'s crooks in a mask had been killed during their investigation.

But as much as I hated to admit it, it made sense. Daphne crying, the gang not talking about it, no arrest being made. I figured it was possible Velma was in denial about the whole thing, but as enthusiastic as she'd been to show me her scrapbook it made more sense that she honestly thought she'd solved it.

Wait a minute, the scrapbook. Something about that whole encounter had struck me as odd and I couldn't pinpoint what it was until now. She hadn't known I was coming but she had the scrapbook sitting behind the counter of her shop ready to be pulled out on cue. I didn't know what it meant, but my gut told me that I was onto something important.

Scooby was still sitting across from me on the couch with his head cocked to the side, studying me curiously. I wasn't sure how long I'd zoned out.

"Sorry, just thinking."

He kept staring at me, not in an intimidating manner (I wouldn't peg Scooby as capable of that) but simply trying to understand something. I guess we were in the same van.

"What's in it for you?" he asked with an agenda free sincerity.

"Me?" I looked at that sweet canine face. "In what?"

"Soothsayer," he asked, "Why you want to know?"

What an odd question, I thought. But then I realized that it was a perfectly reasonable question, just not one that I was prepared to answer. Why was I doing this? For justice maybe? Yeah, that was an unrealistic stretch. Maybe because I felt like it needed to be done? Um, sure. If I had the slightest sense of altruism I'd be recycling.

"I guess," I took a long pause and Scooby patiently waited for me to find the next words. "I grew up watching the Mystery Machine travel across the globe, always showing up at the right place at the right time and doing the right thing and moving on to next adventure. And I saw how well you guys got along with each other even though you all had nothing in common outside of the shared experiences. I mean, you were the Breakfast Club in a van."

"Breakfast!" Scooby laughed. And I laughed. It was contagious.

"I wanted to be part of the gang. I imagined I would grow up and become somebody famous and then get to be a guest in one of the mysteries, you know, 'Today Scooby-Doo meets what-my-face in the Mystery of the Marvelous Monkey Mystic'. So when I bumped into Shaggy and I heard about one of the mysteries being unsolved I thought, this is my chance to be part of the gang."

Scooby smiled at me again. He got up ready to leave, but before heading for the door Scooby moved over to me, taking my hand palm-up and placing an object in it. Then he casually showed himself out, leaving me a little sad to see him go but secure in the knowledge that we'd be having many conversations in the future as the book developed.

Mostly I was feeling grateful, even honored by the gift he had left in my hand; a token of respect which I would keep and treasure for as long as I'd be able to; a single Scooby Snack.


Scooby Doo's Unsolved Mystery continues with Part Four: Fred's Trap.

Beaker's Dozen: Ranking the Muppet Movies (6-1)

As I can't seem to refocus my mind to work on the next part of the Scooby Doo story until I finish out the Muppet list, here is the second half.

 

 

6. The Muppets (2011):

The 5^th and 6^th place spots were REALLY close for me. But after consulting my wife (who was moved to tears by the end of The Muppets) we both agreed that this movie still belonged in the 6^th spot.

A couple of things bugged me about the premise of this movie, which I can overlook for the purpose of evaluation but I still want to point out. The Muppets have gone their separate ways and it becomes a bit of a ‘we’re getting the band back together’ formula. Now I realize the Muppets have less continuity than the Zelda franchise; for example. Gonzo has gone on record saying that he was grateful to have learned that he was an alien but then he ran into Frank Oz who reminded him that Muppets From Space was “just a movie”. (Fozzie: But Gonzo never misses a chance to fire himself out of a canon! Hey! Wakka Wakka!) Be that as it may, this movie treats the gang as if they haven’t seen each other since they took Manhattan. They’ve been together! I have the DVD’s including Letters to Santa!

Okay second issue, they’re putting on a show to save the Muppet Theater from a greedy villain. Um, didn’t we just do this in It’s a Very Merry Muppet Christmas Movie?

With that out of the way, the movie is very funny. The chaos of the old Muppet Show is back, albeit tempered down a bit. It’s a lot of fun to see the theater recreated and to finally see the backstage area from the second floor perspective. The script was clearly written out of love for the Muppets, and it pays tribute to the great Jim Henson.

Now Walter, who makes up a bulk of the story, initially felt pointless to me. I had the same complaints many others had about the usurping of Robin, as well as the fact that sometimes the script refers to him as Gary’s brother and sometimes as his friend. (One question I really don’t want answered, did human parents procreate Walter?) But where Walter’s purpose starts to come through here is in his outsider’s view on the Muppets. Gonzo will always be the stunt artist without really thinking about the consequences and Fozzie will always tell the jokes he finds funny without asking himself if an audience will respond favorably. Walter serves as the voice of reason that Kermit was too stressed, Robin too young, and Scooter too people-pleasing to have. Walter would never have worked in the eighties, but there’s a place for him now.

Jason Segel. He clearly loves the Muppets enough to have worked so hard co-writing a script for them. But all the problems of the movie can really be traced back to him (and co-writer Nicholas Stoller). As much love as Segel has for the Muppets, I don’t think he really understands them. With the exception of Miss Piggy, who actually demonstrates some multilayered-ness to her performance, the Muppets are all trapped playing the most simplistic versions of themselves. And then there’s the subplot with Amy Adams that clutters up a third of the movie and never leads to any sort of payoff (except for Segel I guess, who wanted to work with Amy Adams).


5. The Great Muppet Caper (1981):


So the 5th place spot was neck and neck between a movie that paid tribute to Jim Henson and one that actually had him in the director's chair. The latter wound up being the trump card.

There are so many wonderful sequences in this movie. The opening number has to be the most energetic fourth wall breaking song since the climax of Blazing Saddles. The bicycle scene is a thing of understated beauty. There's Beauregard's driving, John Cleese's bewilderment, Oscar the Grouch's abrupt cameo, and a wonderful MGM homage with "The First Time it Happens".

Together Jim and Frank are a golden comedic duo whose Bert/Ernie, Kermit/Fozzie, and Swedish Chef/his own hands are worthy of comparison to the legendary comedic duos of Hollywood's black and white era. But the chemistry usually falls into a sometimes awkward territory whenever Kermit and Piggy try to convey romantic feelings; the big exception being this movie. Piggy's less favorable qualities are toned down in The Great Muppet Caper allowing her to actually have a charm that she ordinarily only pretends to have. As a result, I find myself rooting for the relationship in way I'm more often indifferent to.

Of course Kermit also rarely has to compete for her attention, and the love triangle with Charles Grodin really works much better than I imagine it ever looked like it was going to on paper. Grodin is spot on with the level of silliness he's required to play his admitted villain yet still demonstrating a sophisticated degree of restraint when the plot requires it. His character of Nicky is attracted to Miss Piggy, and Grodin throws every nuance of infatuation, lust and regret into the way he looks at her. You really can accept that Nicky is falling for a foam and felt sow operated under the floor by a man speaking in a falsetto voice. It's a brilliantly surreal performance.

There's only one real problem with this movie, but unfortunately it's a big one. The plot is lifeless. It's not to say that it doesn't work, but it only serves as a framework for the individual sequences that fly beautifully; i.e. the sum of the parts are greater than the whole. And some of those parts suffer in contrast. The Esther Williams parody is delightful on its own, but in context it feels more like an obstacle than a contribution. The Muppets playing baseball with the Baseball Diamond should have been funny, but it never reaches the energy needed to serve as a climax.

Worst of all, nothing ever really feels like it's at stake in this movie. Even the plot of Muppets From Space had a destination that mattered (despite it being the wrong destination). I think it's safe to say that Jim Henson was a genius when it came to short films and sketches, but he hadn't quite mastered the recipe of a ninety minute storyline. But still, that bicycle scene...


4. Muppets Treasure Island (1996):


You know how the Pirates of the Caribbean trilogy (plus) presents pirates as heroic rebels? Well screw that! THESE are pirates, and they're in a freaking Muppet movie! They're cutthroat, vengeful and dishonest. Even if they sing and dance they're still dangerous.

I've seen this movie at least twenty times and my jaw still drops at that opening number; "Shiver my Timbers" is probably the only Muppet song with the word 'murder' in the lyrics. It starts in a dark place with gunfire and the death of Billy Connolly before finally reassuring us that this is in fact a Muppet movie with Kermit and friends, but that disconcerting feeling stays with us in the form of Tim Curry's Long John Silver.

Johnny Depp never deserved an academy award nomination for playing a pirate, no matter how likeable he was. Tim Curry deserved one for this performance. His Long John is charismatic, seductive, ruthless and surprisingly vulnerable. No matter how funny he is, the serpent inside is lurking just beneath the surface. When I saw this movie in the theater I had to marvel at just how dark the humor was willing to go, exemplified by Long John's manipulation of Sam the Eagle into being cast off in a rowboat in the middle of the ocean. There was a child in the theater who turned to his mom and asked "Did he die?" That's how good Tim Curry is, you can believe him to be capable of murdering a beloved Muppet.

And let's not forget the sophisticated acting of fifteen year old (looking like he's eleven) Kevin Bishop. His interactions with Gonzo and Rizzo are so genuine, I was convinced Bishop was actually Jim Henson's youngest child. And once he connects with Long John, every facial expression conveys that building of trust and pain of betrayal. Without really spelling it out, Bishop's Jim Hawkins is ultimately searching for that father figure and never quite finding it, even in Kermit's Captain Smollett. Instead what he gets from Smollett is the affirmation that he's come of age and has become his own father figure, which is an impressively deep theme.

There's not a problem with this movie, just a bit of an oddity in the fact that the Muppets almost get swallowed up in their own movie by the emotions of the human cast. The movie could conceivably have been titled Treasure Island (by the way with Muppets). They essentially serve as the comic relief to a story that could have felt a smidge too heavy handed for young kids. But the bottom line is, when the movie isn't being ominously true to its source material it really is a lot of fun to go sailing for adventure on the big blue wet thing.


3. Muppets Most Wanted (2014):


I was a bit surprised myself that this movie beat out Treasure Island for the number 3 spot. I'll explain why in a bit, but let me start by saying how funny this movie is. The jokes in The Muppets sometimes worked, and sometimes didn't, but Nicholas Stoller is in the zone here. The funny bits come fast and in bulk, almost on the level of the Abrahams-Zucker classics.

Some critics complained that the plot didn't come together with any coherency, but in truth it does just without taking the time to let you realize it. There's a lot going on in this movie and it may take a few tries to realize how carefully crafted it really is. My wife and I recommend the extended Blu-ray version if for no other reason than for the greatest obvious fourth wall joke ever.

Many of our classic characters have their personalities returned to them even if they still don't quite get the attention they deserve (Rowlf, Scooter, Sweetums). Sam the Eagle actually gets his own subplot with breakout performer Ty Burrell, and that's wonderful to see considering how often his character is neglected in other Muppet projects. Walter's voice of reason is also put to good use here, proving that the new guy has some welcomed staying power.

But let's talk about Constantine, who proves to be the MVP of this particular story arc. To work plot-wise all Constantine really had to do was not be Kermit, but luckily the production team doesn't stop there with him. His character is 'fleshed' out into a full-fledged villain. His failures at impersonating Kermit are hilarious, but he really comes to life when you see how much damage he's capable and willing to cause.

I'm not talking about explosions (because they're Muppets, they can withstand having pianos dropped on them) or theft of the crown jewels (because who cares?) but the psychological damage he's in a position to wreak on Kermit's blindly trusting compatriots. Miss Piggy finds herself in the most dangerous wake of it, and watching the movie for the first time I found myself really concerned for just how hurt she had the potential of being. I think at one point I even muttered "You son of a bitch" in the theater.

But it works, because like so many of the great Muppet movies, this one is about Kermit; who and what he is and isn't. While Tina Fey's Gulag guard Nadya doesn't quite develop the way you're hoping, her aggressive love of Kermit serves as a testament to the cynical adult world that still hopes for purity and innocence. And Kermit's ability to create a show out of the other Gulag's prisoners feels heroic.

My wife and I aren't the biggest Ricky Gervais fans, but he's great in his role as Dominic Badguy, the sympathetic criminal just sadly wanting recognition for his skillset. I imagine if Constantine had never been a part of the picture Kermit might have been persuaded to give Dominic a shot at the theater spotlight.

But here's why Muppets Most Wanted is in the number 3 spot. It feels like something happens in this movie that will have an affect on the Muppets from here on out in regards to Kermit and Piggy's rocky relationship. Piggy has pursued Kermit for decades, demanding he return her affections. In this movie she finally faces the sense of getting what she thinks she wants, and the conflict she feels about it causes her to grow. For the first time she seems like she's happy the way things are. And Kermit, as much as he waffles about non-work related feelings, suddenly finds himself possessive of Piggy in a way that is both exciting and unexpected.

And it all comes to a head when Kermit slaps Constantine for what he's done. Repeat, Kermit the Frog resorts to violence, and no part of me blames him. Now that's the work of a villain.


2. It's a Very Merry Muppet Christmas Movie (2002):


As my wife says, "I feel like Jim is back."

Following Jim Henson's death we saw Kermit as Bob Cratchit, Kermit as Captain Smollett, and Kermit as a supporting player in a Gonzo movie. This was the first movie in eighteen years with Kermit as himself front and center of a Kermit centered movie, albeit a TV movie. Steve Whitmire knocks it out of the park.

Whitmire has become confident enough to take some real acting risks with Kermit. The emotions are intensified in Kirk Thatcher's wonderful movie. Kermit isn't just happy, he's ecstatic. He's not just angry, he's furious. He's not just sad, he's in despair.

In fact he's as close to suicidal as a Muppet is ever going to get. Being a rewrite of It's a Wonderful Life, writers Tom Martin and Jim Lewis neatly sidestep the pertinent plot point by having Kermit deliver an "I wish I'd never been born" rant, but the subtext is there and it's powerful to see the frog wrestle with it.

Pushing Kermit to the brink of his soul is Rachel Bitterman, played with short-fused delight by Joan Cusack who may very well have ad-libbed most of her performance. Bitterman may be a small woman in a tall body with a cartoonish glee about causing the Muppets misery, but when she pushes the knife into Kermit's heart she does it with so much conviction you almost start to agree with her. It's an electrifying scene. And this movie may be the hardest Kermit has ever had to work for a happy ending.

But on his side is Daniel, his guardian angel, played with a wellspring of sincerity by David Arquette. Daniel couldn't be more frightened, echoing Kermit's own insecurities about being in over his head, but like Kermit, Daniel has a strong sense of what is right even when there's no discernible pathway in that direction. It's in their collective ineffectualness and seeming lack of accomplishment that the magic bond between the Muppets and the Christmas season finds its voice.

It's a Very Merry Muppet Christmas Movie also marks the feature debut of Muppeteer Eric Jacobson, whose Fozzie is admittedly still finding his footing. Jacobson's Piggy on the other hand comes out swinging, and the chemistry between the pig and the frog is on a whole new level. To put it bluntly, Frank Oz, for all of his brilliance as a Muppeteer, seemed afraid of Miss Piggy's feminine side, while Eric Jacobson embraces it. The karate is still there, but she doesn't resort to it as a shield for her own emotions anymore. Piggy has always carried pain with her, but this movie is where she really starts to own it instead of projecting it. The journey is fascinating to watch unfold.


1. The Muppet Movie (1979):


Was there ever going to be another option?

It's not a question of if the original is the insurmountable apex of Muppet cinema, but why. Let's start with Austin Pendleton, who played the well-meaning Muppet of a man Max. Pendleton admitted that the filming of the movie was truly unpleasant. Jim Frawley was a talented director but he wasn't part of the Muppet family, and he evidently didn't want to direct the movie. When you also factor in the puppetry techniques that were being developed for this movie hadn't been tried before, the mood on the set must have been really stressful. Jim Henson spent an entire day in a 50 gallon drum submerged in a swamp.

But none of that shows up in the final product. The road trip plot come off as nothing short of magical as the familiar TV characters demonstrate a level of wisdom and soul (and feet) that they hadn't before. This movie changed the Muppets forever, demonstrating that they were larger than television would allow them to be; in essence, this was the shedding of a skin. From the single most emotional banjo riff to the final shot of the family portrait, this movie is about reaching for the stars and surprising yourself when you find them in your hand.

And the songs. My God. Have you ever just read the lyrics to The Rainbow Connection without pretending your arm is being controlled by a rod? It's ambiguously poetic. Each song packs a punch as strongly as the best of Disney's music library. And then there's Gonzo's song, the one that I sang at my mother's funeral because nothing else would suffice. I can't think of another soundtrack that succeeds at being so deeply philosophical.

The Muppets are, and always will be, more human than human; more discerning of what's really important; more guiding of moral principles than just about anything one's inner child can wrap its developing mind around. Nowhere is this more fully realized than the original 1979 triumph.

"De flim is okeydokey!" -a true artist

Beaker's Dozen: Ranking the Muppet Movies (12-7)

I don't know what it is about the Muppets, but somehow they tap into something deeply human (for better or worse). Between the perpetual promise of being able to accomplish anything as long as we all work together, and the looming threat of being blown up or eaten at any moment just to entertain the audience who manage to react to things backstage, the Muppets just seem to stand right on that sweet spot between innocent reassurance and nightmarish absurdity. I sometimes wonder if Wizards of the Coast ever considered designing a campaign world on Koozebane, teetering dangerously over the Cliffs of Terry Gilliam.

I thought it might make for a fun blog to list the Muppet catalog in order of what I think the least best to most best movies are. After all, I don't believe the Muppets and close relatives have ever had a bad movie (despite what my characteristically back-biting criticism might otherwise suggest), but they have had a few mediocre entries. In fact, let's look at one right now.


12. The Muppets' Wizard of Oz (2005):


The first problem with this movie should be immediately apparent: The Wizard of Oz never needed to be retold with Muppets. There's a huge difference between the Muppets putting on their version of Robin Hood on an episode of The Muppet Show and devoting a whole hour and a half slot to retell a familiar story. On top of that, unlike A Christmas Carol, there is a definitive version of Oz which casts a shadow over everything else Oz related, meaning you really have to push the boat out to get anyone to see you as more than a Judy Garland knockoff. The Muppets don't pull it off.

Ashanti is less engaging as Dorothy than Diana Ross was, to say nothing of her ability to play off the Muppets. Incidentally Hilary Duff was a finalist for that role and she was born to play opposite Kermit. As for the Muppets themselves, they really seem forced into their roles (Fozzie the Lion?) all supporting the reality that this simply wasn't the story to Muppetize.

Probably the biggest issue I have with this movie is how little of an impression it left on me. There were a few good jokes scattered around, and like I say, the movie isn't bad but it's not good either. The Muppets deserve better. It's also a sad waste of David Alan Grier.


11. Muppets From Space (1999):


Which is worse, a movie that leaves a bad impression or one that leaves no impression? While I'm unwilling to commit entirely to my answer I'm going to give credit to the bad impression for allegedly taking some kind of a risk even if it doesn't pay off.

First off, let me stick my neck out and suggest that the first two thirds of this movie is actually pretty entertaining, even if it's still not on par with the rest of the Muppet library. I love Gonzo, and being the misfit in a world of misfits his character has always demonstrated a poignant hyperactive sadness that I'll always admire him for. The 1990's was the decade of Gonzo. After the deaths of Jim Henson and Richard Hunt, as well as Frank Oz's determined exit from the troupe, Dave Goelz's alter ego was the perfect choice to assume the keystone position in the Muppets.

But in addition to the third act slowing down way too much in pace, the movie makes a fatal mistake. Gonzo is a weirdo, plain and simple; a whatever, an ambiguity, a metaphor for that part of us all that doesn't and will never fit in. He's not an alien with his people being 'out there'. As nice as it is to see Gonzo take center stage, the revelation of his identity is (dare I say) controversial.

There was an earlier draft of the script where the aliens mistook Gonzo as being one of them, which I imagine would have resulted in a heartfelt acceptance that it's okay to be different as long as you realize that when people care about you those feelings really matter. Why in the hell didn't they go with that ending?

And, oh yeah, couldn't they bother to give us a few original songs?


10. The Muppets Take Manhattan (1984):


I don't think anyone is going to debate me on those first two selections, but I expect from here on out I might be ruffling a few feathers. I don't really know what's going on here. Are the Muppets making a movie about this story? Is this an alternate timeline where they went to college together? Did Kermit and Piggy get married after the audience vanished?

Well let's forget about meta-context and focus on the movie as a stand alone (and forget that this territory was already covered brilliantly in The Muppet Movie). First off, Jim Henson's acting is on a whole new level in this movie. Rizzo and his rat posse have a pretty innovative kitchen sequence (needless, but innovative). There's also some really dramatic moments when the indifference of reality seeps into the Muppets' world. And I can't think of a greater emotional sucker punch in Muppet history than seeing Kermit get hit by a taxi.

On the downside, the Muppets spend way too much of the movie apart from each other. Sure, they each get their mini-adventure (about 45 seconds worth) but did we really have to make room in the running time for that damnable Muppet Babies song? For the record, I don't care how well the cartoon drills in the lesson of using one's imagination, I will NEVER respect the concept of Muppet Babies.

But the bottom line, even as a kid I didn't understand what I was supposed to be feeling at the end of the movie. I know for the sake of comedy you make allowances for questionable traits like Miss Piggy's violent streak and the fact that she resorts to stalking in this movie, but when it came to the fake/real/wtf wedding ceremony I didn't get that Kermit was receiving a happy ending. He seemed more like he was being pressured into the marriage. Just, not my favorite.


9. Sesame Street Presents Follow That Bird (1985):


If you're wondering where Elmo in Grouchland is, one: I haven't seen it, two: I'm not GOING to see it, three: my wife has and she doesn't object to me leaving it off the list.

With that out of the way, not only does this movie have a charm to it, but it also serves as a bit of a time capsule in Sesame Street history with all of the human veterans and Muppeteers appearing, save for the late Will Lee (aka Mr. Hooper) and 'David' actor Northern Calloway, who's absence from the film is unexplained.

So any flaws to gripe about? No not really. The movie is sweet, funny and entertaining, the songs are all memorable, and even Cookie Monster's destructiveness seems to be fixable. So why isn't this higher on the list then? Target audience I guess. This is a kid's movie, whereas the Muppets always aim for family audiences. Being able to appeal to multiple generations of viewers is an impressive feat, and certainly one worthy of a higher standard. But Follow That Bird is what it unapologetically is, and it deserves an inclusion to the ladybug picnic.


8. The Muppets Christmas Carol (1992):


Jim Henson died in 1990 (on my last day of high school) throwing the future of the Muppets into question. The decision to continue on without the Muppet godfather had to be an uncomfortable one. Also with the passing of Richard Hunt, there were a few key Muppets (Rowlf, Scooter, Janice) who became understandably silent for quite a while, while Waldorf and Statler proved that even the deaths of their Muppeteers wouldn't keep them quiet. But nowhere was the loss of loved ones more felt than in Steve Whitmire's Kermit.

The frog didn't have the luxury of silence, and even though Whitmire proved his talent and versatility as Wembley on Fraggle Rock, there was no way he couldn't have felt the eyes of the world on every mannerism and syllable. So it made sense to have Kermit's first post-Henson outing be as a frog actor playing a supporting character in a familiar story.

So unlike Wizard of Oz, A Christmas Carol was a good idea. But the movie also had a self-consciousness to it. A lot of the jokes feel like they're trying to work, and nearly succeed, but the ordinarily larger-than-life personalities of the Muppets are clearly using the Dickens plot not only as a vessel but as a bit of an awkward shield.

That is, except for Gonzo and Rizzo. David Goelz really stepped up to the plate when he was needed, and Steve Whitmire is using Rizzo to find his courage for this movie. I don't think those two characters would ever have been paired together if it weren't out of necessity, but the chemistry proved golden.

Ultimately it falls to Michael Caine to carry the film. In the past, I've been more critical of his performance than I should have been. Caine is a gifted actor, but I never got the sense that his internal barometer was in tune with the Muppets the way John Cleese's or Carol Burnette's were. According to imdb, Scrooge opposite the Muppets was Caine's most treasured role, so he may have been intentionally playing the character as straight as possible amidst Muppet mayhem. To me it still feels like he's in a different movie than the rest of the characters. Probably there was no way for this movie to not be uncomfortable, all things considered.


7. The Dark Crystal/Labyrinth (1982/1986):


It's a cheat putting these movies together, but taken separately neither one would have shown up on the list at all. Both movies have strengths and weaknesses, but they also both take some serious risks which gives their collective placement at number seven justification.

Starting with The Dark Crystal, you can tell this was Jim's pet project and he really believes in the film. The creature design really is wonderful, and one can't deny the impact Brian Froud had on Jim Henson's Creature Shop. The big problem here is, while the concepts of The Dark Crystal are interesting, the characters are not. Even as a child, I found myself rooting for the Skeksis Chamberlain over anyone else, simply because he showed the most personality in the movie. Henson wanted to create a horrific world for children, and to a point he did (that coral reef inspired woodland scene still creeps me out) but he never succeeded at engaging me with his world. The Dark Crystal was a beautifully constructed museum of the unusual where every exhibit was inaccessible. I can respect it, but I don't care about it. Hell, earlier when I mentioned sliding down the Cliffs of Terry Gilliam, I think that happened here.

So instead let's turn to Terry Jones, who had some early influence on Labyrinth even if my online information suggests things went a different direction. Labyrinth is accessible to me. It's open and inviting, there's a soundtrack, some humor. I also have a clear view of the things that don't work about the movie. Hoggle works. Ludo works. Sir Didymus does not (what is the point of his character?). The door knockers and the Helping Hands are cool. The Fireys just feel too Muppet Showy to ever seem threatening. The labyrinth itself is awesome except for the Bog of Eternal Stench which Jim should have been ashamed of. The masquerade scene was flawless. The story was great. The dialogue needed some help. I wouldn't be opposed to seeing this movie remade.

A lot of people love the movie and love Jennifer Connelly. I love the movie and do not love Jennifer Connelly. She's simply not convincing in this role, In fact, she comes dangerously close to pre-empting Kristen Stewart. I don't think she says a single line with any conviction. Connelly has had better performances since then, but in Labyrinth she's the weakest link. David Bowie on the other hand is great in his role. Maybe a little too great. The climax is where the problem with his casting shows the most. Yeah, Connelly isn't giving him anything to work off of; she says her line "You have no power over me" as if she got a first round trivia question correct. She needed to BE the stronger character and she wasn't. But failing that, Bowie needed to demonstrate that his character was capable of being weaker than her, which he doesn't. When she rejected him he needed to have a childish tantrum about it, instead of the "Ah well, I guess I'll go do that video shoot with Mick Jagger" shrugging off of the whole ordeal.

So The Dark Crystal succeeds and never makes me love it. Labyrinth fails and I love it dearly. That's why these two movies are placed together at the number seven spot.

Scooby Doo's Unsolved Mystery ~Part Two: Velma's Scrapbook

Click here for the Table of Contents for Scooby Doo's Unsolved Mystery.

Part Two

After my interview with Shaggy, I was feeling really enthusiastic about doing a piece on Mystery Inc. but my editor was being less than supportive, so for a few months the transcript stayed untouched on my laptop. It wasn't until I was assigned to cover the opening of The Casey Kasem Experience at the Radio History Museum that I noticed my flight had a layover in the city where Velma Dinkley's bookshop was located. My curiosity got the better of me and I shelled out the $50 fee to take an earlier flight so I'd have time to drop by.

The street on which the bookshop was located had a distinct village feel to it, as if it was geared towards a very specific kind of tourism. The streetlights were shaped like oil lanterns and the buildings had been constructed in a Colonial American style. There was also a faint smell of 'horse' in the air, suggesting the possibility of a carriage tour were I to arrive at a different time. Right now the street was empty. It was just me and my hope of uncovering the lost Mystery Inc. mystery.

I stepped into the bookshop, immediately trying to think of an adjective other than 'quaint' because it's clichéd and I never actually figured out what 'quaint' means in the context. Old-timey? Traditional? Clearly inspired by artist depictions of Edgar Allen Poe's study maybe?

From the moment I bumped the overhead bell with the door frame I felt like I was being taken back to a more innocent yet enlightened time; where books were portals to knowledge and revered as such. The darkly painted wood on the inside of the shop managed to convey not a sense of dismalness, but an invitational silence.

I crept past the front end shelves, arranged to resemble a tiny library with fiction organized on the shelves to the left and non-fiction to the right, and a box on the floor full of Ben Ravencroft books marked 'Free. Please take one." Why I crept, I don't know. It just felt natural given the atmosphere.

The back of the shop was a much more open space, as if it was meant to be a reading/meeting area with the proprietor's work station overseeing the half-room like a hotel desk clerk. A few masks hung on the wall behind the desk; ghoulish things. I recognized them by sight, even if the names of said specters weren't coming to me.

I was scanning the station for a second bell to ring when I realized there was a large figure standing behind me.

I turned.

And I had a single moment permanently etched into my brain.

It was a wax figure in a glass case, I get that. But it was a realistic one, and in that moment I could only process those large green-skinned hands reaching for me. My mind supplied the low moaning that I would have attested to under oath was coming from this monster. "Greebus!" I called out as stumbled backwards over my own feet.

And with that, Velma was behind her desk, jovially snickering at my outburst.

"I see you've met Mr. Carswell," came the cheerful yet sly voice behind me. I jerked my head to see where it had come from. Velma Dinkley. Same turtleneck. Same glasses. Same blatant disregard towards the ability of others to have a heart attack.

"I wasn't expecting that," I said trying to regain my composure.

"I probably need a bigger sign out front mentioning that he's in here," she laughed. "He gets some interesting reactions. 'Greebus' is a new one."

"Yeah, I'm not sure where that even came from."

"It happens to the best of us." Velma slipped around the counter to admire her wax centerpiece which stood twice as tall as her.

"Mr. Carswell isn't actually inside there is he?" I asked only half-jokingly.

"It's a wax replica. One of our fans made this for a convention and then donated it to the shop. The original costume was four inches shorter but the details are surprisingly accurate."

"Indeed," I said while consciously trying to keep 'greebus' from downloading into my mental lexicon.

"Now these guys back here," she pointed to the pair of masks mounted on the wall behind the her, "they're the real things. The Strawberry Phantom and the Snow Beast. And the glass casing on the counter contains the actual cat medallion Dr. Bell used to hypnotize Daphne's aunt." Velma smiled proudly. "I've also got Zombie Cleopatra in the back, but I've never felt right about hanging her up."

"Don't you ever feel a little uncomfortable with them staring at you while you work?"

She laughed. "They're just masks. I've actually got a lead on the Chocolate Phantom mask. I would love to get all three of them together again."

I wasn't sure how to respond, kind of getting lost in this bizarre reality that I was standing next to THE Velma Dinkley in all of her knee high stocking glory. I wondered what kind of impression she had made on the various criminals her ever-analytical brain had put in prison. She came across as warm, friendly, and easy to underestimate. But listening to the confidence in her soft voice for longer than ten seconds left me feeling like she was fully in control, kind of the early adult version of Miss Marple.

"So which of our mysteries did you want to ask me about?" Velma asked me, with her eye's twinkle visible through her very thick glass lenses.

"Mysteries?" I repeated, wondering just how transparent I was.

"You've never been in here before," she explained, reading my mind, "but you barely looked at the books. So you're not browsing. You're here for a reason. Something you didn't want to call ahead for."

Well, my cover story was irrelevant now, and frankly I wasn't too disappointed. "The Spooky Soothsayer."

She smiled and disappeared behind the counter, returning a second later with a scrapbook. "No mystery there."

"Shaggy said you never unmasked the culprit," I said.

"This is true," Velma admitted. "We didn't need to. It was obvious."

"Velma obvious, or bystander obvious?" My flattery got a giggle out of her.

She sat down on one of the sofas in the center of the room and patted the cushion beside her, indicating I should join her there. I took one last defiant glance at Mr. Carswell before accepting half of the open scrapbook in my lap.


A newspaper article showing a massive structure surrounded by woods

"This was the home of C.S. Barley, a carnival emcee and master of hoaxes. He made an impressive living by convincing spectators of such nonsense like charms, fortune telling, and mythical creatures. When he retired, he turned his home into a museum displaying the collection of oddities he'd accumulated throughout his life. And this...

Another newspaper article showing a thick white coffin

"was the coffin he used to have displayed in his front room. Barley would wait in the coffin while the tour groups filed in and looked around at the various minor trinkets. Then when he was certain they were not expecting it, he'd pop out of the coffin to give them a premature startle. Always the showman."

"So, is he actually dead now?"

"Yes. At the age of seventy-three."

"Was he buried in the same coffin?"

"No, but let's not get too far ahead."

A magazine photo of an attractive dark haired woman

"This is Lindsey Channing, AKA The Angel Swan, an upcoming trapeze artist. She was nineteen when she and Barley got married. He was seventy-one. When he died, Lindsey's family went into an extensive court battle over her inheritance with Barley's former wives. It took twelve years for that to get sorted out."

"Did you guys meet her?"

"How did you know?"

"Shaggy said there was a glamazon in the museum."

"We happened to show up the night Lindsey was signing over what was left of the house to the city."

"Was that a coincidence?"

"Part of mystery solving is figuring out when a coincidence is and when it isn't. We were at a paranormal convention when we first heard about the existence of Barley's museum, and that Lindsey was about to sell it off. Freddy made a special trip out there so we could check it out before the place closed forever, and that's when we encountered...

A hand-drawn sketch of a long armed, ghastly figure in a cloak with glowing eyes

"the Spooky Soothsayer."

"Who drew this?"

"Scooby did. He's a dog of many talents."

"Was the Soothsayer supposed to be the ghost of C.S. Barley?"

"That was one thing that never really made much sense. Usually the fake ghosts at least try to tap into some sort of legend about the place they haunt. This one just seemed sort of generic. In fact, Shaggy was the one who named him the Spooky Soothsayer. You could just as easily have called him the Blue Banshee."

"So the Soothsayer was trying to scare people away from...what?"

"We never found that out either. Money. Jewels. Something valuable."

"And yet you knew who it was?"

"I did. But Freddy's trap didn't work out so well."

"What happened?"

"Three words. Danger Prone Daphne. And without being able to catch the Soothsayer red-handed, there was no proof, just circumstantial evidence. No arrest was made. In fact...

Another newspaper photo of a large man with a Sheriff's badge

"Sheriff Braxton was furious with us. He said if he ever saw any of us 'meddling kids' and our 'blanket-blank dog' again he'd throw us in jail on principle."

"Shaggy mentioned another person there."

"Daniel!"

An advertisement image of a young attorney

"He was the lawyer overseeing the transition of the house's ownership to the city."

"He looks pretty charismatic."

"Freddy insisted that Daniel was flirting with me. But I still hold true to my original theory."

"Which is?"

"Hang on, we're not quite there yet."

Another drawing, this time of a stone ankh

"This is something we found pretty early on but we weren't sure what it was for. It turned out to be the key to Barley's coffin."

"What was in there?"

"We never found out. It was locked when we first got to the museum, but after Fred's trap failed we found the coffin unlocked and empty."

"Who had the key last?"

"I did. But I lost it when my glasses were knocked off."

"So who was it then?"

"Do you want to take a guess?"

"Lindsey."

"Why Lindsey?"

"She was a trapeze artist, so she had the skills to pose as a ghost. Maybe she was trying to scare off Barley's former wives for whatever was in the coffin."

"That's a good thought, but that court case had already settled, and Lindsey had no real motive to dress in a costume since she already owned the house. She could have spent as much time as she needed searching the place."

"So Sheriff Braxton?"

"That was actually my first thought, considering how odd it was that the town sheriff was personally overseeing a real estate venture. But then we found this...

Half a crumbled ticket stub to PhantomCon

"This was the clue that solved the mystery. We had just come from PhantomCon ourselves where we'd first heard about Barley's museum. And at one point Daniel had made an offhanded comment about the latest Mile Selinker game which had made its public debut at the convention."

"So while he was at the convention Daniel discovered something was of value in the very mansion he'd been in charge of handling the paperwork for?"

"Exactly!"


Velma sat next to me, still pleased with her own deductions. I, on the other hand, felt less than satisfied. Perhaps it was a combination of the lack of a definite conclusion and the fact that my idea for doing a piece on Mystery Inc. was dead in the water.

"Do you know he even had the nerve to wink at me as we drove off?"

"You think that was a victory wink?"

"He got away with it, despite our meddling. Maybe even because of it."

"How so?"

"Well, one thing that bugged me for a long time was why he'd go through the trouble of creating a costumed character in order to steal something, but then I realized that Mystery Inc. was getting recognized. People knew us wherever we went. Even the town store where we stopped just before the Barley Museum sold mugs with Scooby's face on it. Daniel knew our methods, and knew that with a ghost to catch we'd all get too distracted with trying to solve a mystery to notice the valuables being slipped out from under our noses."

Velma sighed, briefly losing her aura of confidence for just a moment.

"It's a stain on our record. We may not have been outwitted, but we were beaten."


Everything went really fast after that and I just barely made my flight, but finally with several hours to do nothing but sit and think I spent a fair amount of time just feeling lousy. Selfishly, I'd really thought this was going to pan out in my favor. I could also tell that the undefeated Soothsayer still bothered Velma, and I couldn't help but empathize to a degree.

After I was done just feeling lousy I started sketching out as much information as I could remember Velma telling me, just to see if there was anything not adding up.

If there was I wasn't seeing it.

Except-

Okay, it was a long shot, but there were a huge number of gaps in the story. Even the explanation Velma had put forth, legitimate though it was, was anything but airtight. I had one question gnawing at me: What if Velma was wrong?

At first it felt to me like I was being disrespectful to her by questioning her explanation, but by the time the plane landed I'd convinced myself that even Velma wasn't entirely satisfied with her own conclusion, and the most respectful thing I could do for her was try to prove her wrong. If nothing else, I'd fail at that and wind up supporting what she already believed.

Regardless, I wasn't finished.

I checked into my hotel and went straight to the internet, single-minded of purpose. My editor was going to have to indulge me, or at least tolerate what I was doing.

My search engine came up on the screen and I entered my credentials. I filled in the 'who do you want to search for' tab and hit enter.

And honestly, as the search engine took a minute to do its thing, how could I resist saying these words out loud in the only time in my life I'd ever be able to utter them professionally?

"Scooby-Doo, where are you?"


Scooby Doo's Unsolved Mystery continues with Part Three: Scooby's Snack.

Editorial: Is Rock and Roll Dead?

Since I started this blog in March I've worked up a decent sized library of stories, poetry, backbiting, etc. and I thought it might be worth actually making the choice to churn out at least on blog entry a week. We'll see how that goes.


But as Gene Simmons has rather modestly declared Rock and Roll dead, I got to thinking about the topic and whether or not there was something to be said on that front. So today I'm happy to present my first editorial:

Is Rock and Roll Dead?

No.

Okay, I just previewed what I've written and for a blog it's a bit on the short side, so maybe I should expand on my opening statement.

First off, I've never really gotten what is and isn't Rock and Roll or what qualifies as Rock but not Roll. I can say Danny and the Juniors is usually not the first group which comes to mind (being a doo-wop quartet) but I find a certain truth to their hit Rock 'n Roll is Here to Stay.

So what exactly is Rock and Roll? Not even Wikipedia is sure. Music historians trace the origins of Rock back to Blues, Gospel, Country, Folk, and Jazz. Fair enough, but that doesn't really answer the question. Maybe the question should be, does Rock and Roll even exist? After all, the roots from which we perceive Rock and Roll to have blossomed are still in existence today. Maybe Rock is only an illusory hybrid in as much as we simply believe it to be.

It's still not a satisfactory thought process. You could just as easily argue that purple doesn't exist because it's merely a red-blue hybrid. Yet the general population accepts that there is in fact a color identifiable not only as purple but also as not-red and not-blue (and for the record, people who insist that color is only a perceived trick of the human brain are just killjoys).

I think we all accept that Rock and Roll exists in all of its subsets; hard (Pat Benatar), soft (Elton John), punk (The Offspring), progressive (Pink Floyd), and all those other adjectives to describe everyone from Violent Femmes to Breaking Benjamin. So perhaps it's safe to say that Rock and Roll truly does exist but as an ambiguity, like morality or humor.

So we can't really define Rock and Roll and we don't know where it really came from, so what if we instead ask "Why does Rock and Roll exist?" I've always assumed it caught on because it sounded good, and possibly because the teenaged culture was in a period of change. I'm sure if you posed the question to the music industry, they'd say "It exists because it sells to the fourteen year old demographic".

You know what? Let's explore that for a minute. Since its alleged birth, Rock and Roll has carried a stigma of being a teenaged thing. Well I'm sure nobody is going to challenge me in the comments section on this (hell, I have YET to receive a comment on any of my blogs) but being a teenager sucks. You don't really know who you are and you're suddenly getting responsibilities dumped on you and you're not getting the accompanying freedoms that the adults are clearly reaping the benefits of. Rock and Roll becomes your voice for the things you're feeling but don't really understand.

Maybe that's what Rock and Roll is: the challenge to someone else's imposed boundaries. That explains why Bill Haley & His Comets can seem like sooooo last century but still have left a defining rebellious mark on music history. Rock and Roll at its core is a defiance of the system, sometimes as a losing battle but sometimes as an actual jolt of 'sense' to outdated notions; the zeitgeist's 'soul' if you will (and you better!).

So then, is Rock and Roll dead? On the one hand Gene Simmons seems to be voicing a concern the world has been discussing since Lou Pearlman was handed a fountain pen; the music industry has tamed the beast. Well maybe. We don't really have pioneers of music anymore, we have a 'here today gone tomorrow' revolving door of substitute icons with funny names and poor fashion sense. And to Simmons's defense, the modern system probably has choked the life out of the modern Tom Pettys and Joan Jetts.

But on the other hand Rock and Roll has a history of thriving on repression. Life...ah...finds a way. We're beginning to see the first round of internet celebrities popping up, and they're willing to commit to their craft whether they get paid to do it or not. Lindsey Stirling is huge right now, and she's practically sidestepped the whole powers-that-be structure. She won't be the last. While the exectives are still fumbling around trying to figure out how to make money off the digital age, creativity will continue to seek its outlet.

So, no. Rock and Roll isn't dead. In hibernation? Yeah. "There is a passion for declivity in this world" but there is also the call to artistic expression against all odds. Rock and Roll came into being because we needed it, just as we need it now. It's quite possible the music industry is dying, and good riddance to it. But it won't take music with it because, again, we need Rock and Roll.

You know, if there's one thing Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure got unquestionably correct it's that Ludwig van Beethoven would have used electric instruments if he'd had access to them. I for one believe that Rock and Roll existed well before the 1940's; as far back as humanity was able to play instruments. It's ingrained in our species. It simply cannot die, in spite of our inherent laziness in nurturing it. To give Danny and the Juniors the deserved final word, "I don't care what people say, Rock & Roll is here to stay".