A Scrinch Lurks Deep Inside

This is a Scrinch. It combines a Scrooge and a Grinch. A Scrooge is miserly and a Grinch is miserable; both are the opposite of the Christmas spirit infusing the web and the world currently.
What does every other website have up right now? Holiday cheer, from photos to kitchen tips. What does this website have up? A Scrinch–his name is Ratter.

With the exception on one highly amusing Christmas party footage on this blog, I have not yet given it over to photos of snow angels. It’s because a little Scrinch lives in the cold cockles of my blog, doling out seriousness and stress rather than merriment. He’s the little voice crying, “Too much to do, must keep working.” He does not yet have the Christmas spirit.

So I hugged the little Scrinch and tried to squeeze him into the Christmas spirit. He cried ‘bah humbug’ and bit my nose. So I stuffed him with fruitcake, but he only burped on me. I rubbed him with mistletoe, and the little bugger sneezed on me with evil glee. ‘Hah!’, Ratter cried.

But it’s a precarious thing for a Scrinch, however unmerry, to live in a blog. I couldn’t get rid of Ratter, and I couldn’t make him feel the Christmas spirit. But I could dress him up and surround him with hearts and elves! Ratter’s been very quiet every since I gave him a present. Gifts soften the meanest little quibbles…

Happy holidays to Ratter and to all a merry Christmas Eve!

Obituaries: don’t make them a dead end


I have never killed a man, but I have read many obituaries with a lot of pleasure.
— Clarence Darrow

Obituaries ought to be pleasurable reading, and too often people are literally buried with a perfunctory paragraph. Of the many forms of writing, obituaries hardly get prominence, much less taught in classes, but a lively obit can be as great as any other kind of writing.

People, probably in books more than life, sometimes imagine what will be written about them after they pass away. However, obituaries are rarely written for the dead person they commemorate and as writing they often receive as much attention and care as advertisements for old cars. The typical obit puts together the facts of someone’s life, birth location and time, death location and time, vocation in between the two, and a note about whom they leave behind. It serves as a community notice and has a sentimental significance to those noted ones left behind.

Newspaper writers rarely aspire to the obituaries column, and rarely do they seem to devote much significance to it. Some come to love it and look forward to deaths with, forgive them, glee. Prominent individuals receive a longer, more carefully thought out retrospectives in papers across the world. Yet if the website Obituaries.com shows anything, it’s that the vast amount of obituaries are hasty factual notices. This is why it is all the more interesting when you come across a great obituary.

A great obituary makes the person known to you as a lifelong friend, and becomes as affecting and interesting as the person was. The New York Times does a good job of suggesting why a person is historically relevant to learn about and mourn. The L.A. Times makes its obituaries a little more compelling with a little more kick, but by far the best obituaries being written today are in the pages of The Economist magazine.

The Economist prints one obituary, or posthumous profile, per monthly edition, and its choice of person is often surprising and always rewarding. It literally makes the dead come alive, with a verve that surprises and delights. The Economist doesn’t give bylines, but its obituaries are currently written by the former editor Anne Roe. She is the co-author, with Keith Colquhoun, of The Economist Book of Obituaries. Of course, The Economist doesn’t serve as a community notice with funeral details. Instead, it explains why and how the person led a fascinating life. The profiles range from that of H.M., a man without a memory, to Boris Fyodorov, a Russian reformer who is examined through his passion for English churches. This unexpected angle provides an unexpected familiarity and insight into the character of the person.

In this NPR interview, Wroe says she likes to “get to the point” right away, and “the point may not be the one we first think of.” Another point in favor of Economist obituaries is that they are more than recitations of facts; they take a decided view of an individual and his achievements, which makes for better reading.

Morbid? Perhaps, yet who knew obituaries could be such great reading? Wroe says in the interview that “it seems to me like an opportunity to get into dozens of very interesting lives and I find it endlessly fascinating, not in the least morbid. In fact, we have a tradition in England of rather irreverent and interesting obituaries ….” Perhaps we Americans are too stiff about stiffs. A great and lively obituary is the best thing you could hope for after your death. As commemoration of the dead, an obit is one of the most noble projects for a writer.

(Originally published December 21, 2008 in Blogcritics Magazine.)

Burlesque Ethos

The stage was small and the lights were red, but the Victorian velvet couches were filled with people of the most average variety. After all, it was a theater, not a strip club. Between the young waitress sitting on the couch beside me to take drink order and giving her number in case we wanted reservations for later, I asked my companion, “What are the rules about nudity?” He merely looked confused at the mention of rules in such a sexy, friendly, and elegant space. Burlesque shows posses an ambiguity that shimmies a tightrope between class and camp, between striptease and vaudeville, between theater and sex.

The heart of Burlesque is sex. You can’t take it out of a Burlesque performance, but it can’t cross theatrical limits (legally at least). Obscenity and vulgarity are avoided, as the point is to spoof and (to a limited extent) titillate, not to offend. Think of Bettie Page’s song and dance number. She has a mischievous smile as she shakes her hips and shoulders slowly and stretches her legs. It is clearly a show of the female form rather than dancing expertise. Her exaggerated slow movements are a spoof of a dance, and turning her back to the audience to shake her butt is the punch line. Burlesque airs out sex, and has from its beginning been a place to relax but not destroy society’s moral standards.

Naked or Nude?
Strip clubs are legally bound that the strippers wear a certain amount of clothes, from panties and pasties, to nothing here in New York state as long as no alcohol is served. On the other hand, an unclothed person can walk across a stage in the course of a play without being arrested; that person is nude, not naked. The nude difference is when lack of clothing is aesthetic and theatrical, which Burlesque is. But anyone who has seen a Burlesque show realizes that what is being flaunted on stage is naked, pure and simple.

Burlesque performers typically wear elaborate, themed layers that are removed. This element is a recent addition to what was and is humorous theatrical entertainment. The striptease originated at the Moulin Rouge in 1890s Paris, and subsequently became a part of some Burlesque across Europe. It was only in America that Burlesque became associated with a variety show in which a strip tease is the chief attraction. Today neo-Burlesque retains the music hall atmosphere and features vaudeville acts, and the focus is still on the dancing girls. Shows often have contortionists, singers, or magicians to entertain the audience, although the latter might very well have a sexy slant.

Silly, elaborate and suggestive, a burlesque show makes for fun night on the town. But are they naked or nude? Is it camp or classy? Assuming those performers shimmy the line, it’s the delicate balance that is the whole charm of Burlesque.