Arnold Ziffel–More Than Bacon?

One of my favorite animal actors from the sappy sixties sitcom era.  There were many others.  A second look at a post honoring Arnold Ziffel, the charismatic pig, from Green Acres.

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Fans of Arnold Ziffel, the famed Green Acres pig, are taking legal action to trademark the name “Arnold,” “Arnold the Pig,” and “Arnold Ziffel.”  Frances Gingham, president of the FAZ Fan Club, and Arnold Ziffel Enterprises, had this to say.  “We’re doing this to honor the original Arnold, and her descendants.  He was really a she–you know.”

“As true Green Acres fans would tell you–Arnold made the show.  What other show in television history featured such a charismatic, talented pig?  The only one that even came close, was Wilbur from ‘Charlotte’s Web.’  Wilbur may have been ‘some pig,’ but, he didn’t have a prime-time sitcom.”

“Future plans include filing suit against Arnold, MO–and any other ‘Arnolds’ as we see fit, for trademark infringement.  No other Chester White piglets–except those from the original bloodlines, should ever be named Arnold.  It’s the least we can do for Arnold,” Mrs. Gingham said.  “Until they cease-and-desist–we will do what’s necessary to achieve our ends.”

Arnold, MO mayor, Greg Fillmore, said in response, “Yes, I heard about it.  I think it’s ridiculous.  The city of Arnold existed long before there was an Arnold the Pig.  Arnold the Pig may have brought home the bacon for CBS back in the sixties; that doesn’t mean we have to kowtow to such unreasonable demands.”

“Tell Ms. Gingham and her group, that we’re nice people, here in Arnold, MO–but, we don’t like to be messed with!  Why was Arnold Ziffel, any more significant, than Mr. Ed, the talking horse?  Wile-E-Coyote and the Roadrunner were funnier.  They had me laughing from the jump.”

“As a conciliatory gesture, we’re not opposed to honoring the legendary porcine entertainer.  Instead of getting involved in a legal wrangle–maybe we should capitalize on our fair cities’ name?  We could bring everything here.  The Midwest has plenty of hog farms.  An Arnold the Pig statue in the center of town would bring in tourists.”

“A Green Acres Museum featuring Arnold Ziffel, as the centerpiece would be nice–too.  And while we’re at it–why not have a Hooterville theme park, with the Shady Rest Hotel, Sam Drucker’s store, a railroad, and steam locomotive?  We could also have an Arnold the Pig Day during Autumn Apple Festival.”

Mayor Fillmore was passionate–as was, FAZ president, Gingham.  I suppose all animal actors deserve their due.  Entertainers bring out the best and worst in people.  We’ll have to wait-and-see what happens with Arnold.

There once happened to be, an Addams Family, arachnid actor–Wednesday Addam’s creepy favorite spider, named Homer.  That was a little too much for me.  Professional performing pigs aren’t that unusual.  Carnivals, circuses, county fairs, have an extensive performing animal history.  And, there was, “Flipper,” a gregarious, sitcom dolphin.  However, I may pitch the theme park idea–when I’m back in Hollywood.

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Dana Chalupa, “Entertainment Newsbit,” Imaginary News Network, Hollywood©

 

ARNOLD ZIFFEL–MORE THAN BACON?

arnold 3

Fans of Arnold Ziffel, the famed Green Acres pig, are taking legal action, to trademark the name “Arnold,” Arnold the Pig,” and “Arnold Ziffel.”  Frances Gingham, president of the FAZ Fan Club, and Arnold Ziffel Enterprises, had this to say, “We’re doing this to honor the original Arnold and her descendants.  He was really a she–you know.”

“As true Green Acres fans would tell you–Arnold made the show.  What other show in television history featured such a charismatic, talented pig?  The only one that even came close, was Wilbur from “Charlotte’s Web.”  Wilbur may have been “some pig,” but he didn’t have a prime time sitcom.”

“Future plans include filing suit against Arnold, MO–and any other ‘Arnolds,’ as we see fit, for trademark infringement.  No other Chester White piglets–except those from the original bloodlines, should ever be named Arnold.  It’s the least we can do for Arnold,” Mrs, Gingham said. “Until they cease and desist–we will do what’s necessary to achieve our ends.”

Arnold, MO mayor, Greg Fillmore, said in response,  “Yes, I heard about it.  I think it’s ridiculous.  The city of Arnold existed long before there was an Arnold the Pig.  Arnold the Pig may have brought home the bacon for CBS back in the sixties; that doesn’t mean we have to kowtow to such unreasonable demands.”

“Tell Ms. Gingham and her group, that we’re nice people, here in Arnold, MO–but, we don’t like to be messed with!  Why was Arnold Ziffel, any more significant, than Mr. Ed, the talking horse?  Wile-E-Coyote and the Roadrunner were funnier. They had me laughing from the jump.”

“As a conciliatory gesture, we’re not opposed to honoring the legendary porcine entertainer.  Instead of getting involved in a legal wrangle–maybe we should capitalize on our cities’ name?  We could bring everything here.  The Midwest has plenty of hog farms.  An Arnold the Pig statue in the center of town would bring in tourists.”

“A Green Acres Museum, featuring Arnold Ziffel, as the centerpiece would be nice–too.  And while we’re at it–why not have a Hooterville theme park, with the Shady Rest Hotel. Sam Drucker’s store, a railroad, and steam locomotive?  We could also have an Arnold the Pig Day during Autumn Apple Festival.”

Mayor Fillmore was passionate–as was, FAZ President Gingham.  I suppose all animal actors deserve their due. Entertainers bring out the best and worst in people.  We’ll have to wait and see what happens with Arnold.

There once happened to be, an Addams Family, arachnid actor–Wednesday Addam’s, creepy favorite spider, named Homer. That was a little too much for me.  Professional performing pigs aren’t that unusual.  Carnivals, circuses, county fairs, have an extensive performing animal history.  And there was, “Flipper,” a gregarious, sitcom dolphin.  However, I may pitch the theme park idea–when I’m back in Hollywood.

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Dana Chalupa, “Entertainment Newsbit,” Imaginary News Network, Hollywood©

MEDIOCRITY

cluttered garageKaraoke masters
Plastic Edward R. Murrows
Paint-by-number Picassos
Self-perpetuated deceit
Shouted from the rafters

Monuments to mediocrity
Crowded attics, basements, garages
Unwanted electronics, stacked hodge-podge
Cadillac Cimarrons, Lincoln Versailles
Products birthed with exotic names
Cheap knock-offs of the real thing

Bought in January, useless in February
Marketed darlings, now useless junk
Failed resolutions, good intentions
Unlimited imitations of imitations
Exclusivity in millions of editions

COUNTRY NOSTALGIA

It was the “golden age” of country music.  Somehow, in my teenage rebellion, I missed it.  I liked rock music when country music was cool.  Dad watched Porter Wagoner and Dolly Parton every Saturday night.  Porter Wagoner wore jackets adorned with cacti and wagon wheels.  That was too weird for me, yet the Beatles shaggy hair seemed OK.  Roger Miller and Buck Owens were unique–I liked them.  Now I can’t get enough classic country.  I wish local country stations played more of it.

Country songs told stories of hard-drinking, hard working, hard loving, cheating husbands and wives.  There were so many good songs by country icons like Tammy Wynette, Loretta Lynn, Patsy Cline, George Jones, Johnny Cash, Hank Williams, Ferlin Husky, and others.  Their songs expressed raw emotions.  One of the earliest songs, recalled from childhood is, “I Won’t Go Hunting With You Jake, But I’ll Go Chasin’ Women.”  Later favorite songs were, “I’m Going To Hire a Wino To Decorate Our Home,” and “Just a Swingin,” by John Anderson.  Here are some suggestions for country song titles.  Can you think of some good ones?

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“Talk Is Cheap, Why’s Love So Expensive?”

“(Let Go Of), The Remote Control Of My Heart”

“(Tag and Bag Her), I Don’t Love Her No More”

“Your Love Oughta’ Be Against the Law”

“If That Ain’t Love, (Get Outta’ My Truck)”

“Ugly Love, Pretty Words”

“Your Love’s Got Me Hypnotized”

“There’s a Hole In My Soul, (Where Your Love’s S’posed to Be)”

“You Stole My Heart, (Who Said I Was Smart?)”

“I Was Thinkin,’ (When I Shoulda’ Been Drinkin)”

“I Tripped Over My Words, (When I said I Loved You)”

“I’ll Never Give Up On You, (Like You Did On Me)”

“Let’s Get Right To It, (How’d You Do It?)”

“I’m Just More Trash, (In The Junkyard of Your Heart)”

“Mary, Your Love Is Just Too Scary”

CHECK YOUR REALITY AT THE DOOR

Fear Factor, The Kardashians

Relationships, on and off again

Storage wars, Parking wars

American Idol, Next Big Star

Dirty Jobs, Deadliest Catch

Bridezillas, The Bachelorette

Trivialities, Dysfunctionalities

Policewomen of Broward County

Ice Road Truckers, Police chases

Big Brother House, Amazing Races

Hoarders, Intervention, Jersey Shore

Whiners, Moonshiners, Give us more!

Next Big Star, New York Ink

Demographics? Makes me think

Hillbilly Handfishers, Downsized

Cajun Justice, Baseball Wives

Child Star Pageants, Next hit smash!

It’s time to take out the trash!

BABBLING BOB and others like him

He was the epitome of coolness garbed in a tweed jacket accented with a wool snap-brim cap, leaning on his British sports car with wire wheels.  His autographed picture was on the wall of my bedroom.  It was inscribed “Best Wishes & Good Luck, Your Friend, Babbling Bob.”  Babbling Bob represented all the top 40 AM major market DJ’s.  His real name was probably Harvey Murgatroyd or something equally ordinary.  To any “Harvey Murgatroyds” that might read this blog, no offense was intended.  Other kids might have idolized sports or entertainment figures.  I wanted to be like Babbling Bob.  He didn’t have the status of icons like “Wolfman Jack,” but he was still my hero.  Babbling Bob was alway surrounded by pretty girls.  I started to like girls, so the timing was right for me to start enjoying popular music of the era. 

Someone gave my brothers and me an AM radio.  The year was 1958.  I was immediately hooked on top 40 AM Rock radio.  In our market there were three competing Rock & Roll stations.  My favorite DJ was Babbling Bob.  He played Little Richard, Chuck Berry, Elvis Presley; I couldn’t get enough.  His slick-talking, persona was larger than life.  Maybe I could be a DJ? It seemed so easy, just talking spinning hit records.  “Be sure to join me, your very own Babbling Bob, Saturday night the thirteenth of August at the Westside Community Center.” “I”ll be spinning your favorite tunes while you groovy guys and gals dance the night away.” This was followed, as always, with “Be there or be square!”

There were numerous on air contests and publicity stunts.  At my impressionable age I couldn’t believe what Babbling Bob was about to attempt.  That night he was playing my latest favorite song, “Hot Rod Lincoln” all night long.  Why? Because he was crazy and listeners dared him to do it.  Babbling Bob locked himself in the studio against management orders.  Radio station staff personnel knocked on the doors and pleaded with him to stop.  The local police were called, he still refused to give in.  Babbling Bob played this to the hilt, “I don’t know how long I can hold out, they’re trying to break down the door.” The sound engineer played along with appropriate effects.  This was the coolest thing ever.  If he was that crazy, I was going to listen to him all night.  It was Friday night and there was no school tomorrow.  My little brother was already asleep at ten-thirty.  I’d just have to listen all by myself.

Mom opened the door at eleven, “Shh, turn off your radio and go to sleep.” “I don’t want you to be crabby tomorrow.” “OK, Mom.” I answered.  I turned it down just a little bit more.   At twelve-thirty AM the jig was up.  The upstairs door opened, this time it was Dad.  “What in the world are you listening to?” “It’s Babbling Bob and Hot Rod Lincoln, Dad.” “Turn off that racket and go to sleep!” “Don’t make me come up there!” I knew my Dad was already halfway up the staircase to test my compliance.  My nosy little brother woke up.  He whispered, “I told you it wouldn’t work.” “Shh, just shut up.” I said in a half-whisper.  Dad wasn’t finished, “And I don’t want to hear another peep from either one of you!” We both quietly waited for Dad to descend the stairs.  My ornery little brother just couldn’t resist, “Peep,” “Peep.” “Shut up, Shut up.” I warned.  “Dad’s gonna’ come up here and it will be your fault.” Soon we were both asleep.