By Kevin Guilfoile
Well, the news seems unrelentingly bleak, but it's a holiday weekend, one I'm going to try to spend mostly away from the newspapers and television and computer. It also means things will probably be pretty slow around here, so I'll avoid the expected themes and keep it all light and follow-uppy.
Several months ago I posted about The Curators a three-part documentary I hosted and narrated about several collectors featured in The Museum of Online Museums. Well, somebody at Jimmy Kimmel Live watched that film, and last night Jimmy had one of our collectors, Bill Keaggy, on the the show to talk about grocery lists and to plug his book Milk, Eggs, Vodka. Bill appeared right between Dakota Fanning and Korn, which made me long for the late night days when everybody used to hang out on the couch.
Anyway, I thought it was all pretty funny, and so in the spirit of updating you on old posts you hardy remember, let's go to the clips:
If you've ever collected anything odd or interesting, go ahead and tell us in the comments. And if you still have an oddball collection, we might put you in the MoOM and you could end up in a Hollywood green room sorting M&Ms and drinking Pepsi with gravelly voiced Nu-Metal gods.
Happy Fourth of July everybody. Be safe.
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6 comments:
When I was a little girl, I used to have a bottle collection, which my cousin and I found trolling the woods behind our house. Today, wouldn't be caught dead doing that, but back then (in another century), it was safe.
We hid it under leaves on a hill. We'd collect booze bottles and interesting colored glass, but drew the line at beer bottles.
I wonder if it's still there...
Kevin, I'm rarely able to identify the song source of the titles of your blog posts here, but today I finally got it. And it suddenly occurred to me that "Badges..." was easily the funniest song that Dire Straits ever did.
In fact, Pete, I think it might be the second time I've used a lyric from that song in a post title.
I've never been much of a collector, but when I was a kid I could not have too many of those rubber shrunken heads. I loved shrunken heads.
Later, in Central America, I was offered a real one by one of the Indians who live near the Colombian border.
I declined.
I seem to collect paper without even trying, so I steer clear of other things that take up space. I also have a fine collection of neurotic worries.
However, Mr Terrenoire's comment reminded me that my dad, who taught for many years at the U of Kansas, had a student from Ecuador who did give him an actual shrunken head. My dad kept it on his desk and it was a rather horrific object. I don't know what became of it--when he in his final illness and my brother and I were clearing out his office, the head wasn't there. Perhaps its spirit came and claimed it.
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