The blog Law & Order & Food has the tagline "You have the right to remain delicious." It is a photographic chronicle of the food eaten on the TV show Law & Order. That's all, but it's enough to keep it constantly updated -after all, the show was on for twenty years, and when that's all posted, they can start on the spinoffs! Link -via Nag on the Lake
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I love this! A bath towel that pixelates your body in real life! The Censorship Towel is an art project from the Carmichael Collective, the folks who brought us Piñata Anatomy, but we can hope that this idea makes it into stores sometime. See more pictures at the project site. Link
If it weren't for the English subtitles, you'd think this was an everyday pop song, possibly about family. It's more like a love song to the Chinese Communist Party, the ultimate in this young man's aspirations. The propaganda music video is both amusing and unnerving. -via Metafilter
Neatorama presents a guest post from actor, comedian, and voiceover artist Eddie Deezen. Visit Eddie at his website.
Mickey Mouse? Banned? You must be kidding!
No, I'm not. Mickey Mouse, that ultra-safe, conservative, harmless, beloved, world-famous cartoon character was banned -in the United States, no less. Or, to be exact, one of his cartoons was. The Mickey Mouse cartoon The Shindig was officially banned in America. But why?
Well, for one, in a scene in The Shindig, Clarabelle Cow is shown in the stable reading a book entitled Three Weeks.
Soon her date, Horace Horsecollar, knocks on her door to pick her up. Clarabelle quickly dresses, therefore she was technically naked while reading the book.
It was reported by TIME magazine in 1931 that the state of Ohio banned The Shindig because it showed a cow's udders. While TIME noted that many moviegoers didn't min viewing Clarabelle Cow's udders, many others were very offended. That was reason number one.
Reason number two is a bit more esoteric (although equally ridiculous).
The book Clarabelle was reading, Three Weeks, was a notorious book written by Elinor Glyn, a British novelist and screenwriter who pioneered women's mass market erotic fiction. It was Elinor Glyn who coined the word "it" to mean "sex appeal." This was considered very racy and suggestive by 1920s Middle-American standards.
Her book Three Weeks was declared obscene and banned in Canada in 1907. It was condemned by religious leaders in the United States. How it came to be included in the Walt Disney Mickey Mouse cartoon is a mystery to this day.
Continue reading
Mickey Mouse? Banned? You must be kidding!
No, I'm not. Mickey Mouse, that ultra-safe, conservative, harmless, beloved, world-famous cartoon character was banned -in the United States, no less. Or, to be exact, one of his cartoons was. The Mickey Mouse cartoon The Shindig was officially banned in America. But why?
Well, for one, in a scene in The Shindig, Clarabelle Cow is shown in the stable reading a book entitled Three Weeks.
Soon her date, Horace Horsecollar, knocks on her door to pick her up. Clarabelle quickly dresses, therefore she was technically naked while reading the book.
It was reported by TIME magazine in 1931 that the state of Ohio banned The Shindig because it showed a cow's udders. While TIME noted that many moviegoers didn't min viewing Clarabelle Cow's udders, many others were very offended. That was reason number one.
Reason number two is a bit more esoteric (although equally ridiculous).
The book Clarabelle was reading, Three Weeks, was a notorious book written by Elinor Glyn, a British novelist and screenwriter who pioneered women's mass market erotic fiction. It was Elinor Glyn who coined the word "it" to mean "sex appeal." This was considered very racy and suggestive by 1920s Middle-American standards.
Her book Three Weeks was declared obscene and banned in Canada in 1907. It was condemned by religious leaders in the United States. How it came to be included in the Walt Disney Mickey Mouse cartoon is a mystery to this day.
The following is an article from the book Uncle John’s Bathroom Reader Plunges into Music.
One of the shortest-lived phases in American musical history, disco took the nation by storm in 1977 and was declared "dead" just three years later. (For part one of the story, click here.)
SATURDAY NIGHT POSERS
When most people think of "disco music," they think of John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever. But most die-hard disco fans scoff at this. True disco, they maintain, was the underground dance club scene of the early to mid-1970s, frequented primarily by gays and minorities, and fueled by deejays and independent record labels. So what's the problem with the 1977 film about a troubled Brooklyn kid named Tony Manero (Travolta) who goes to the discotheque every Saturday night? A lot, it turns out. "That movie was about a group of straight, homophobic, racist, Italian-American twentysomethings in New York who went dancing wearing odd-looking clothes and probably too much aftershave lotion. They looked nothing much like the people I saw or knew in gay discos." That review comes from disco historian Dennis Brumm, who's been active in the dance scene since the early 1970s. And many in the disco community feel the same way.
FROM FRAUD TO FAD
The idea for Saturday Night Fever came from a 1976 New York magazine article about the New York disco scene, written by British journalist Nik Cohn. Cohn later admitted he made the whole thing up: He'd just arrived in the United States, and had no clue what the real "scene" was like when he was assigned to write about it. So he completely fabricated the character that eventually became Tony Manero.
Nevertheless, the film came out the next year, and the public ate it up: It earned $74 million, the third-highest gross of the year (after Star Wars and Close Encounters of the Third Kind). The soundtrack, featuring disco songs by the Bee Gees, was even more successful. It quickly became the highest-selling movie soundtrack ever, and was the highest-selling pop album until Michael Jackson's Thriller eclipsed it six years later. Almost overnight, disco went from a fringe movement to a mainstream fad. And just as suddenly, the major funk and R&B record labels all took an interest in the craze and began cranking out disco hits for all ages.
Continue reading
One of the shortest-lived phases in American musical history, disco took the nation by storm in 1977 and was declared "dead" just three years later. (For part one of the story, click here.)
SATURDAY NIGHT POSERS
When most people think of "disco music," they think of John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever. But most die-hard disco fans scoff at this. True disco, they maintain, was the underground dance club scene of the early to mid-1970s, frequented primarily by gays and minorities, and fueled by deejays and independent record labels. So what's the problem with the 1977 film about a troubled Brooklyn kid named Tony Manero (Travolta) who goes to the discotheque every Saturday night? A lot, it turns out. "That movie was about a group of straight, homophobic, racist, Italian-American twentysomethings in New York who went dancing wearing odd-looking clothes and probably too much aftershave lotion. They looked nothing much like the people I saw or knew in gay discos." That review comes from disco historian Dennis Brumm, who's been active in the dance scene since the early 1970s. And many in the disco community feel the same way.
FROM FRAUD TO FAD
The idea for Saturday Night Fever came from a 1976 New York magazine article about the New York disco scene, written by British journalist Nik Cohn. Cohn later admitted he made the whole thing up: He'd just arrived in the United States, and had no clue what the real "scene" was like when he was assigned to write about it. So he completely fabricated the character that eventually became Tony Manero.
Nevertheless, the film came out the next year, and the public ate it up: It earned $74 million, the third-highest gross of the year (after Star Wars and Close Encounters of the Third Kind). The soundtrack, featuring disco songs by the Bee Gees, was even more successful. It quickly became the highest-selling movie soundtrack ever, and was the highest-selling pop album until Michael Jackson's Thriller eclipsed it six years later. Almost overnight, disco went from a fringe movement to a mainstream fad. And just as suddenly, the major funk and R&B record labels all took an interest in the craze and began cranking out disco hits for all ages.
The following is an article from the book Uncle John's Bathroom Reader Plunges into Music.
Love it or hate it, disco music will always be associated with the 1970s. But did it all begin and end in that decade? Not by a long shot- It actually had its roots in World War II Paris.
LE RÉSISTANCE
When you think of disco, what comes to mind? Probably polyester, mirror balls, and lines of dancers doing the Hustle. But surprisingly, the seeds that would one day grow into disco were first planted by the Nazis.
During their brutal occupation of France in World War II, the Germans outlawed any form of art and music that they deemed "impure." The American jazz movement, which had experienced a renaissance in Paris in the 1930s, was high on the Nazi's cultural hit list. In 1940 Hitler's army began to shut down any cabaret that featured the "rhythms of belly-dancing negroes" and sending offenders to internment camps. (At the same time, however, the Nazis formed their own jazz band called Charlie and his Orchestra to broadcast taunting, satirical propaganda songs to the Allies over the radio.)
THE BEAT GOES ON
Unwilling to give up their beloved jazz, partying Parisians formed secret nightclubs that required passwords to get in, changed locations frequently, and tried to stay as quiet as possible. And without any jazz bands left, their only choice was to play records. The most famous club, Le Discotheque (French for "The Record Library"), opened on rue de la Huchette in 1941. With a discaire, or disc jockey, spinning jazz records all night long, the main attraction was dancing. Thumbing their noses at the occupying Reich, Le Discotheque and other underground clubs opened their doors to blacks and homosexuals, the same groups who would first embrace disco music 30 years later. The main ingredients that would result in disco in the 1970s were now in place.
LET'S DO THE TWIST!
Continue reading
Love it or hate it, disco music will always be associated with the 1970s. But did it all begin and end in that decade? Not by a long shot- It actually had its roots in World War II Paris.
LE RÉSISTANCE
When you think of disco, what comes to mind? Probably polyester, mirror balls, and lines of dancers doing the Hustle. But surprisingly, the seeds that would one day grow into disco were first planted by the Nazis.
During their brutal occupation of France in World War II, the Germans outlawed any form of art and music that they deemed "impure." The American jazz movement, which had experienced a renaissance in Paris in the 1930s, was high on the Nazi's cultural hit list. In 1940 Hitler's army began to shut down any cabaret that featured the "rhythms of belly-dancing negroes" and sending offenders to internment camps. (At the same time, however, the Nazis formed their own jazz band called Charlie and his Orchestra to broadcast taunting, satirical propaganda songs to the Allies over the radio.)
THE BEAT GOES ON
Unwilling to give up their beloved jazz, partying Parisians formed secret nightclubs that required passwords to get in, changed locations frequently, and tried to stay as quiet as possible. And without any jazz bands left, their only choice was to play records. The most famous club, Le Discotheque (French for "The Record Library"), opened on rue de la Huchette in 1941. With a discaire, or disc jockey, spinning jazz records all night long, the main attraction was dancing. Thumbing their noses at the occupying Reich, Le Discotheque and other underground clubs opened their doors to blacks and homosexuals, the same groups who would first embrace disco music 30 years later. The main ingredients that would result in disco in the 1970s were now in place.
LET'S DO THE TWIST!
Molly Wood of Charlottesville, Virginia turned 111 years old last month. Her family gathered for the occasion, including her daughter, granddaughter, great-granddaughter, great-great-granddaughter, and even her great-great-great-granddaughter, who was only a few weeks old. It was a unique opportunity to see six generations of direct descendants together. Link
See more pictures here. Link
(Image credit: Christian DeBaun)
Throughout the history of warfare, armies have looked for ways to attack the enemy while defending themselves from harm, which led to some pretty strange battle machines. These defensive conveyances evolved into the modern tank, with many odd permutations along the way. Some designs were inspired by nature, such as the armor worn by turtles or beetles, as you can see in the 1855 British steam engine design shown here. See a lot more at Dark Roasted Blend. Link
The Red Cross published recruitment and fund raising posters in various countries during World War I, and many of them are works of art! The poster shown here was designed by Harrison Fisher in 1918. See a collection of the best at Oddee. Link
The following is an article from Uncle John's Curiously Compelling Bathroom Reader.
Today, Canada has free universal health care. The man who made it happen: former Saskatchewan premier Tommy Douglas. Here's his story.
LIFE AND DEATH
In 1910, when Tommy Douglas was six years old, he injured his leg and it never healed properly. Four years later he developed a life-threatening bone infection, and because his family couldn't afford a specialist to treat it, the doctors wanted to amputate the leg to stop the infection from spreading. Tommy's leg was saved only by chance -a teaching surgeon took an interest in the case and offered to operate on Tommy for free, provided that his students could watch the procedure and learn from it.
Tommy never forgot the experience. A medical crisis could affect anyone -what would happen to the people who weren't as lucky as he had been? His situation wasn't all that unusual in the early 20th century. In most industrialized nations, there were few options if you were poor and happened to get sick. Hospitals would occasionally admit "charity cases," but only rarely. For the most part, if you needed life-saving surgery and couldn't pay for it, you died.
HUMAN RIGHTS
After spending his teens at a variety of jobs (printer, whiskey distiller, actor, boxer), Douglas became a Baptist minister and in 1930 took a job as a preacher at Calvary Baptist Church in Weyburn, Saskatchewan. The rural, blue-collar town was devastated by both a drought and the Great Depression. Even if families had money for food, there was none left over for medicine. It reminded Douglas of his own near-tragedy from childhood. "I buried two young men in their 30s with young families who died because there was no doctor readily available and they hadn't the money to get proper care," he wrote. Douglas came to believe that medical care was a basic human right and should be available to everyone.
In 1934 Douglas realized that he could do more for the poor in politics than he could at a small-town church, and joined the Cooperative Commonwealth Federation. Like Douglas, they advocated health care access. (The party also agitated for social reforms to end the Depression, including workers' compensation and unemployment insurance.) Douglas ran on the CCF ticket for the Saskatchewan legislature in 1934 ...and lost. But in 1935, he won a seat in the national legislature, the House of Commons.
WINS AND LOSSES
Douglas served in the House for nine years but never got the support he needed to institute health care on the national level. The CCF wasn't well regarded in mainstream Canadian politics; their idea of tax-supported, government-run medicine was too reminiscent of the complete state control of the Soviet Union. But Douglas was no communist, and had no interest in totalitarian government. He just wanted universal health care.
Continue reading
Today, Canada has free universal health care. The man who made it happen: former Saskatchewan premier Tommy Douglas. Here's his story.
LIFE AND DEATH
In 1910, when Tommy Douglas was six years old, he injured his leg and it never healed properly. Four years later he developed a life-threatening bone infection, and because his family couldn't afford a specialist to treat it, the doctors wanted to amputate the leg to stop the infection from spreading. Tommy's leg was saved only by chance -a teaching surgeon took an interest in the case and offered to operate on Tommy for free, provided that his students could watch the procedure and learn from it.
Tommy never forgot the experience. A medical crisis could affect anyone -what would happen to the people who weren't as lucky as he had been? His situation wasn't all that unusual in the early 20th century. In most industrialized nations, there were few options if you were poor and happened to get sick. Hospitals would occasionally admit "charity cases," but only rarely. For the most part, if you needed life-saving surgery and couldn't pay for it, you died.
HUMAN RIGHTS
After spending his teens at a variety of jobs (printer, whiskey distiller, actor, boxer), Douglas became a Baptist minister and in 1930 took a job as a preacher at Calvary Baptist Church in Weyburn, Saskatchewan. The rural, blue-collar town was devastated by both a drought and the Great Depression. Even if families had money for food, there was none left over for medicine. It reminded Douglas of his own near-tragedy from childhood. "I buried two young men in their 30s with young families who died because there was no doctor readily available and they hadn't the money to get proper care," he wrote. Douglas came to believe that medical care was a basic human right and should be available to everyone.
In 1934 Douglas realized that he could do more for the poor in politics than he could at a small-town church, and joined the Cooperative Commonwealth Federation. Like Douglas, they advocated health care access. (The party also agitated for social reforms to end the Depression, including workers' compensation and unemployment insurance.) Douglas ran on the CCF ticket for the Saskatchewan legislature in 1934 ...and lost. But in 1935, he won a seat in the national legislature, the House of Commons.
WINS AND LOSSES
Douglas served in the House for nine years but never got the support he needed to institute health care on the national level. The CCF wasn't well regarded in mainstream Canadian politics; their idea of tax-supported, government-run medicine was too reminiscent of the complete state control of the Soviet Union. But Douglas was no communist, and had no interest in totalitarian government. He just wanted universal health care.
The Kentucky Derby is tomorrow -always the first Saturday in May. Mental_floss offers us "three-minute guide to the most exciting two minutes in sports."
Here's a sample:
Get your fancy hat out, mix a mint julep, and brush up on these facts that will impress your friends -then you'll be ready for the race! Link
(Image credit: Flickr user Lee Burchfield)
Here's a sample:
5. A compact frame is a must for jockeys, but they need to be quick in the dressing room, too. Because jockeys have to wear unique silks for each horse they ride, a day of races may require a dozen wardrobe changes.
*
6. Horse names aren’t the free-for-all they seem to be. Names can be no more than 18 characters long, must not consist solely of numbers or initials, and can’t be in poor taste or have obvious commercial connections.
*
7. Horse names weren’t always so outlandish. The 1916 Derby winner went by George Smith.
Get your fancy hat out, mix a mint julep, and brush up on these facts that will impress your friends -then you'll be ready for the race! Link
(Image credit: Flickr user Lee Burchfield)
The Beer Moth is not an insect, but an overnight accommodation at Inshriach House in Cairngorms National Park, Scotland, built into a 1956 fire truck. Yes, really.
Walter, the creator of the Inshriach Yurt, has truly excelled himself in his seemingly never ending quest for a renovation challenge. Having liberated this 1956 Conmer Q4 from the Manston Fire Museum in Kent and wrestled it back to Inshriach House, he has quite literally raised the roof (by a foot). Then he laid an oak parquet floor rescued from a Tudor mansion, salvaged snooker table slate to make a hearth and a fire escape for a staircase. The Beer Moth now also sports a completely over the top Victorian double bed, the door from one of the (now presumably a little drafty) cottages at the farm, and the former back wall of the doghouse. The mahogany plinth has been replaced with a wood-burner, the inexplicable stuffed squirrel has vacated the premises, and the cutting edge of unusual places to stay has been an immediate hit with its first fortunate (and slightly bemused) guests.
Make your reservations now! Pets are welcome in the Beer Moth, but it is not meant to accommodate children. Link -via Laughing Squid
(Image credit: Inshriach House)
Neatorama presents a guest post from actor, comedian, and voiceover artist Eddie Deezen. Visit Eddie at his website.
Although a comedy series, it wasn't the funniest TV show ever to hit the airwaves. The episodes weren't deep, meaningful, or insightful. And the comedic performances certainly weren't brilliant, unlike Lucille Ball in I Love Lucy or Jackie Gleason in The Honeymooners. But I Dream of Jeannie is unquestionably a television classic.
In 1964, writer Sidney Sheldon wrote a pilot about a NASA astronaut finding a genie in a bottle while stranded on an island. The pretty but naive and impetuous genie moves in with her benefactor and chaos results.
During the show's original casting, Sheldon had looked only at dark, ethnic, exotic girls to play the lead character, a genie named Jeannie. But he finally decided on a very WASPish, all-American blond actress named Barbara Eden. For the male lead, the astronaut character Major Anthony Nelson, after a big casting call that included actor Robert Conrad, he finally selected "a young Jack Lemmon" named Larry Hagman.
During season one, actress Eden was actually pregnant. When she found out the news, she told Sheldon and assumed she'd be replaced. But no, instead she was draped over in dozens of veils, covering her up like a small pup tent during the show's inaugural year. .
Although laughable by today's "anything goes" standards, the censorship on I Dream of Jeannie was heavily enforced by the suits at NBC. Barbara Eden was to wear a semi-skimpy pink harem outfit (she chose the pink, her favorite color). But the linings of the legs on her outfit had to be covered by thick cloth, thick enough so Eden's legs wouldn't show through.
Jeannie could never be shown in Major Nelson's bedroom without the door being open. And when Jeannie blinked and became pink smoke and went under Major Nelson's door, the puff of smoke also had to be shown leaving under the door in the same fashion.
And of course, the most famous censorship present was the "no belly button" rule for Eden's character. Eden was to recall an ironic episode in which Jeannie and Tony are on the beach together. Although Jeannie had on a full one-piece swimsuit, several beautiful girls were also in the scene, clad in skimpy bikinis -belly buttons in full view.
While the chemistry and "sexual tension" between Eden and Hagman was definitely always present, Larry Hagman's behavior was erratic to say the least. Apparently extremely insecure and determined to be the "star" of the show, Hagman's bizarre antics during the show's run are probably the strangest in television history.
Continue reading
Although a comedy series, it wasn't the funniest TV show ever to hit the airwaves. The episodes weren't deep, meaningful, or insightful. And the comedic performances certainly weren't brilliant, unlike Lucille Ball in I Love Lucy or Jackie Gleason in The Honeymooners. But I Dream of Jeannie is unquestionably a television classic.
In 1964, writer Sidney Sheldon wrote a pilot about a NASA astronaut finding a genie in a bottle while stranded on an island. The pretty but naive and impetuous genie moves in with her benefactor and chaos results.
During the show's original casting, Sheldon had looked only at dark, ethnic, exotic girls to play the lead character, a genie named Jeannie. But he finally decided on a very WASPish, all-American blond actress named Barbara Eden. For the male lead, the astronaut character Major Anthony Nelson, after a big casting call that included actor Robert Conrad, he finally selected "a young Jack Lemmon" named Larry Hagman.
During season one, actress Eden was actually pregnant. When she found out the news, she told Sheldon and assumed she'd be replaced. But no, instead she was draped over in dozens of veils, covering her up like a small pup tent during the show's inaugural year. .
Although laughable by today's "anything goes" standards, the censorship on I Dream of Jeannie was heavily enforced by the suits at NBC. Barbara Eden was to wear a semi-skimpy pink harem outfit (she chose the pink, her favorite color). But the linings of the legs on her outfit had to be covered by thick cloth, thick enough so Eden's legs wouldn't show through.
Jeannie could never be shown in Major Nelson's bedroom without the door being open. And when Jeannie blinked and became pink smoke and went under Major Nelson's door, the puff of smoke also had to be shown leaving under the door in the same fashion.
And of course, the most famous censorship present was the "no belly button" rule for Eden's character. Eden was to recall an ironic episode in which Jeannie and Tony are on the beach together. Although Jeannie had on a full one-piece swimsuit, several beautiful girls were also in the scene, clad in skimpy bikinis -belly buttons in full view.
While the chemistry and "sexual tension" between Eden and Hagman was definitely always present, Larry Hagman's behavior was erratic to say the least. Apparently extremely insecure and determined to be the "star" of the show, Hagman's bizarre antics during the show's run are probably the strangest in television history.
Warning: this video may induce nausea, nightmares, or possibly some weird hypnotic state in sensitive people.
Last night, Zeon introduced you to the bizarre game Octodad with the trailer for the sequel Octodad: Dadliest Catch. Even funnier than the game is the record of physics and animation glitches encountered during the game's development. Link -via Geekosystem
Last night, Zeon introduced you to the bizarre game Octodad with the trailer for the sequel Octodad: Dadliest Catch. Even funnier than the game is the record of physics and animation glitches encountered during the game's development. Link -via Geekosystem
Twenty-three years ago today, we said goodbye to comedienne Lucille Ball. In this guest post from Eddie Deezen, we learn the story of Lucy's death.
The date was March 29, 1989, and the most famous comedienne in the history of show business was about to make her final TV appearance. The great Lucille Ball was appearing at the annual Academy Awards ceremony, along with the world's most popular other comedian, Bob Hope (an old friend).
Hope had talked Lucy into making the joint appearance, after many phone calls and much begging. Finally Lucy conceded, but she hated the very idea of it. Lucy hated putting on the wig she had chosen to wear. She complained the netting gave her a headache. "G--damn Hope," Lucy complained, "No one cares what the hell he looks like, but everybody cares what I look like -God, I am so tired of myself."
Lucy did her final TV appearance with Hope all all went smoothly enough. Now she had to go back to real life.
Lucy had been a bit down lately. She had never really completely recovered from the death of her former husband Desi Arnaz, her co-star on the legendary I Love Lucy. Most intimate friends saw the obvious about Lucy's love for Desi. Although she was currently in a comfortable marriage to Gary Morton, she had always carried a torch for Desi. (Desi always sent Lucy flowers on her birthday and on their anniversary, and the two kept in close touch by phone throughout the years.)
Also, the dismal failure of her recent TV series Life With Lucy weighed heavily on her mind. Lucy now occupied her days watching TV, playing Scrabble and backgammon, and having occasional drinks of Bourbon ("slushies" as she called them).
Interestingly, Lucy had one last caper in her life.
Continue reading
The date was March 29, 1989, and the most famous comedienne in the history of show business was about to make her final TV appearance. The great Lucille Ball was appearing at the annual Academy Awards ceremony, along with the world's most popular other comedian, Bob Hope (an old friend).
Hope had talked Lucy into making the joint appearance, after many phone calls and much begging. Finally Lucy conceded, but she hated the very idea of it. Lucy hated putting on the wig she had chosen to wear. She complained the netting gave her a headache. "G--damn Hope," Lucy complained, "No one cares what the hell he looks like, but everybody cares what I look like -God, I am so tired of myself."
Lucy did her final TV appearance with Hope all all went smoothly enough. Now she had to go back to real life.
Lucy had been a bit down lately. She had never really completely recovered from the death of her former husband Desi Arnaz, her co-star on the legendary I Love Lucy. Most intimate friends saw the obvious about Lucy's love for Desi. Although she was currently in a comfortable marriage to Gary Morton, she had always carried a torch for Desi. (Desi always sent Lucy flowers on her birthday and on their anniversary, and the two kept in close touch by phone throughout the years.)
Also, the dismal failure of her recent TV series Life With Lucy weighed heavily on her mind. Lucy now occupied her days watching TV, playing Scrabble and backgammon, and having occasional drinks of Bourbon ("slushies" as she called them).
Interestingly, Lucy had one last caper in her life.
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