Log in

Alexander Woolcott, Franklin Pierce Adams, George Kaufman, Robert Benchley and Dorothy Parker were the stars of this 1927 NBC Red radio network special, one of the earliest Christmas specials ever performed. Unfortunately the principals, lured to the table for an unusual evening gathering by the promise of free drinks and pirogies, appeared unaware they were live and on the air, avoiding witty seasonal banter to concentrate on trashing absent Round Tabler Edna Ferber's latest novel, Mother Knows Best, and complaining, in progressively drunken fashion, about their lack of sex lives. Seasonal material of a sort finally appears in the 23rd minute when Dorothy Parker, already on her fifth drink, can be heard to remark, "one more of these and I'll be sliding down Santa's chimney." The feed was cut shortly thereafter. NBC Red's 1928 holiday special "Christmas with the Fitzgeralds" was similarly unsuccessful.

new one here...

in all honesty, i got wind of dorothy parker back in 1987 from an usual source. prince. he wrote a song called "the ballad of dorothy parker" and it got me interested in her. i admit, i don't/haven't read enoough of her and from her, but i'm working on that. i don't really think the song has anything to do with her, but he brought her into my life.

yea that's pretty much all i wanted to say for now.

pardon my dust.

oh and yea, i love women in glasses...

All I Want For Christmas...

Glad Christmas Day once more has come --
There's little novelty in that.
It's welcomed eagerly by some,
Which isn't to be marveled at.
Their stockings hold a house and lot
(I hope you gather what I mean)
A picturesquely furnished yacht,
A next-year's model limousine,
sable wrap of graceful cut
A sheaf of cheques for vast amounts;
it's not the thought that matters, but
The gift which goes with it that counts.

But I'LL get a multitude of seasonable cards,
A bowl full of lily-bulbs, approaching their decease;
A pair of gilded shoe-trees with appropriate regards,
And a leather-bound "Evangeline" with colored frontispiece.

Thanks DP

the loveliness

She laughed heartily and highly, and melted away through the crowd, toward the depleted tea-table. Her lips were scrolled in sunshine, but in her eyes was the look of the caged thing, the look of the tortured soul who is wondering what in hell has become of that fresh supply of toast. -D.P.
By the time you swear you're his,
Shivering and sighing,
And he vows his passion is
Infinite, undying --
Lady, make a note of this:
One of you is lying.
"For three weeks Dottie and Alan, a personable and intelligent man, some years younger than she, spent their honeymoon with me and Peaceful (O's dog) who fell in Love with Dottie at first sight (as who did not). I remember happily a Sunday morning when we were sitting around lazily trying to read the Los Angeles papers. On the front page of one of them, as a reminder that the circus had come to town, was a large photograph of three elephants, standing on their hind legs. One was wearing a bridal veil perched grotesquely on its head, another had a high silk hat, and the third wore a priest's collar about its neck. Dottie took one look, tossed it contemptuously aside and said, 'I give it six months.'"

-George Oppenheimer

Mrs. Parker and the Vicious Circle

I just saw that Mrs. Parker and the Vicious Circle is out on DVD.
I never saw it, so I'm excited to finally Netflix it.

Anyone see it? What'd you think?


"I don't think that superiority idea is true at all. The funny people you like are the ones you laugh with. There's Benchley, for instance. You live through his troubles with him--they are your own troubles--and that is why you enjoy them so particularly. A humorist, I think, is just balancing on the edge of the dumps."

connect the dots.

does anyone happen to know where i can find dotty's play?
online or whatever.

Symptom Recital

I do not like my state of mind;
I'm bitter, querulous, unkind.
I hate my legs, I hate my hands,
I do not yearn for lovelier lands.
I dread the dawn's recurrent light;
I hate to go to bed at night.
I snoot at simple, earnest folk.
I cannot take the gentlest joke.
I find no peace in paint or type.
My world is but a lot of tripe.
I'm disillusioned, empty-breasted.
For what I think, I'd be arrested.
I am not sick, I am not well.
My quondam dreams are shot to hell.
My soul is crushed, my spirit sore;
I do not like me any more.
I cavil, quarrel, grumble, grouse.
I ponder on the narrow house.
I shudder at the thought of men....
I'm due to fall in love again.
- Dorothy Parker