(Not Quite)
WELCOME TO THE FROGGY BOTTOM PUB & CAFE
Froggy Bottom Pub&Café
A Quiet Morning for the Silent Types
Marcel Marceau as photographed by Lessing
Louise Brooks
There’s A Kind Of Hush All Over The World Tonight
A Tribute to the Silent Greats
Good Morning Amphibians and Troglydytes
Good Morning Subterraneans
Good Morning Dark ShadowPlayers
Good Morning Silent Types
Froggy Bottom Pub&Cafe
A Quiet Morning For The Silent Types
Open Bar For The Open Minded
Our Patrons This Morning:
Marcel Marceau & Louise Brooks Please recommend to anyone you know and especially to everyone you don’t. We’re kind to strangers.
May the 4’s be with you
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A Few Things You May Not Have Known About Marcel Marceau
When Marceau was 15, his life unraveled. On the day France entered World War II, his family was given two hours to pack. Marceau and his older brother, Alain, fled to temporary safety in Limoges. Alain became a leader of the local French underground, and young Marcel joined in.
To hide their Jewish origins, the brothers changed their family name to the solidly patriotic Marceau, a famous general in the French Revolution.
Marceau’s wartime activities presaged his later artistic role as illusionist. Using red crayons and black ink, he altered the ages of French youths’ identity cards, proving them too young to be sent to labor camps.
And later, masquerading as a Boy Scout director leading campers on a hike in the Alps, he saved hundreds of Jewish children’s lives by smuggling them into Switzerland in a theater caravan. No surprise, then, that his most affecting works — notably “The Trial,” “The Cage” and “Bip Remembers,” which recounts Marceau’s own wartime experiences — are highly political.
In 1944, Marceau’s father was captured and deported to Auschwitz, where he died. His mother headed to Perigueux, in the south of France, with the two brothers, but when the situation became too dangerous, Alain and Marcel fled to Paris.
Despite the desperate times, Marceau continued entertaining fantasies of a future in the theater. “I wanted to be a speaking actor,” he insists, though most of his theatrical inspirations were silent screen stars: Chaplin, Buster Keaton, Harry Langdon, Stan Laurel, Oliver Hardy and the Marx Brothers.
Tonight, in the spirit of reconciliation, we welcome back Yvonne.
If there’s anything you want, just ask her… she’s easy.
If you can’t find what you’re looking for, just ask Yvonne.
And if you can’t find Yvonne, join the crowd.
The Coffee’s On, and the Some of the Headlines are Good!
Please, mon ami, reserve me a table. One with candles, a large bowl of almond roca and a lovely Italian red to sip. And lots of barstools for others to join.
Cues Golden Earring’s “Twilight Zone” – I had to pick “theme song” for my self… that would be it. Sexiest drum solo ever! π
It’s wierd drink night, and I just whipped up a batch of:
GALE’S SUMMER STORM
Ingredients
4 oz Iced Tea
1/2 oz Kahlua Coffee Liqueur
1/2 oz Triple Sec
1/2 oz Amaretto Almond Liqueur
1/2 oz Sambuca
1/2 oz Frangelico Hazelnut Liqueur
Mixing Instruction
Mix ingredients in a tall glass over ice, stir and enjoy.
What a touching story, suskind. I had no idea.
And nobody can hold a cigarette like a Frenchman or woman can.
I was saving this one… it’s the Shark Bite!
Ingredients
3 oz. Orange Juice
3/4 oz. Grenadine
3 oz. Ice
1/2 oz. Sour Mix
1 1/2 oz. Myer’s Dark rum
Mixing Instruction
Combine Myers’s rum, Orange Juice, Sour Mix, and Ice in a blender. Blend until smooth. Pour into Hurricane Glass, and add Grenadine. Serve with a straw, but do not stir before serving.
That looks fantastic! I am writing that one down. And it’s in keeping with my passion… hockey π
San Jose Sharks area so they are the hometeam followed by the Bruins and … any good game on any good night. π
on October 5th (opening night in Nashville), or wait till they’re home on the 12th?
Screw it — I’ll drink to them both nights! π
nothing was accomplished with the lockout. Goodenow is gone but Bettman remains.
I’ll celebrate when they remove that buttsniffer Rathje (Slothje) from the roster. He appears to still be a Shark. ACK
But yes a toast to hockey.. televised hockey because they ain’t getting a one thin locked out fan dime from me for a while. π
Merci! <Down the hatch with the first one.> They are quite beautiful in those glasses. <Down the hatch with the second one.>
Kansas staggers off to dinner, mais oui.
Merci! <Down the hatch with the first one.> They are quite beautiful in those glasses. <Down the hatch with the second one.>
Kansas staggers off to dinner, right arm elegantly outstretched, fingers aloft, but sadly, too drunk to remember the cigarette.
Kansas staggers off to dinner, too drunk to know when she has already posted a comment.
Maybe you’d like to stay for a bite of dinner… I hear the Mahi Mahi is very good…. you might as well bite the shark that’s bitten you!!
The trick is all in the angle. Pointed up. Subliminal (sp) for well… it’s a phallic-like.
Marcel Marceau loved loves women !! I met him in Dublin just three years ago…. It’s a long lovely story, that I wrote down and lost…. so will have to regain, une de ces jours…. But my solictor at the time told me a story about M. Marceau that was unkind, even if true….. when chasing another woman he was not at all considerate of the woman he was with… Ah, tant pis! J’adore M. Marceau!! Mon cher maitre!!! The story of Marceau and Chaplin is also too good to write badly… and the one with Stan Laurel…. more anon!
Stan Laurel & Marcel Marceau
Lessing Photograph
If I don’t get some customers soon, I’ll have to go watch telly or wash socks.
‘Bout time for the nighthawks to start draggin’ in…hang in there and send Yvonne over w/ a pint of Lager while I feast my eyes on Ms. Brooks.
Peace
Star of Lulu, Pandora’s Box, and in the 1920’s a memeber of the DenisShawn Dance Troupe.
Bogart wasnt no frog, mister….the French learned it from him.
you, the other night, spoke of writer’s cramp.
I would never put myself into a category of writer. I can only “write” when their is an edit button I can constantly hit π Or my beloved Word doc.
You were struggling and it reminded me of mine. I pulled up something I wrote a year or so ago about… not writing.
There are several sides to my “writings”. My private writings. I call it my stream of consciousness to myself. Then there’s the erotica style.
And then there my actual desire to write stories for children. And this is where I freeze. Because it’s where I’m actually write my best. This is when I doubt, criticize and run away from myself.
I know… stupid because when I post I have typos and all that crap… and in a forum surrounded by actual writers. π
Anyways, may I share with you something I wrote that your reminded me of?
Andthere’s no ban on eroticism here, anyways… not while Louise Brooks is in the house…. Carry on, DammitJannit, it’s open free verse night…. I may invent a drink for you.
I’m slaving over a hot drinks chem lab…. here… I made us a concoction:
The Geneva Convention
Ingredients
2 oz Vodka (Russian)
1/2 oz Goldschlager
1/2 oz Everclear (190 proof)
Mixing Instruction
Fill half a shaker with ice. Add the ingredients. Shake. Strain into a cocktail glass.
Don’t ask me… but it looks deadly and tastes lethal… Everclear??? What is that, Butane? Guaranteed to End All Wars, and Confuse All Disputes… hmmm… maybe I should slip one to the Loved One?
but apparently it takes running for President to have Joe Biden at least SOMETIMES call Bush nominees out (or at least remove his lips from their asses.)
From Think Progress, another letter from Senator Biden to Secretary Rice:
another posting:
The Gene Splice
Ingredients
1 oz. Vodka
2 oz. Pineapple Juice
0.25 oz. Lime Juice
0.5 oz. Triple Sec
0.5 oz. Chambord
Mixing Instruction
Fill a shaker half full with ice cubes. Pour all ingredients into shaker and shake well. Fill a Highball glass almost full with ice cubes and strain drink into Highball glass. Garnish with a Lime Wedge and serve.
Sorry for the flyby use of the bar as an open thread, but work calls (most of the time, anyways) π
Shalom to one and all!
Look, he/she dropped this newspaper!!!
Caught myself
drifting along the playground of the “What?” section of my Azure galaxy. A dandylion parachuting into and through my grey matter.
No. That’s just too much thought. Let’s drift deeper. Let’s fall away into a mindpuddle. Ker-plop. Feels better. Languid. Warm. … Free.
Clarity at just 6 after midnight. Clarity the consistency of mud perhaps but much clearer than the past few days. Why? I’ve been pushing, pulling, prying. Pretending… naw too strong of word. It means malice; some dastardly intent. I’ve been… inhibited. Still too intense a term. I’ve been… forcing myself. I can almost bite into that.
The nooks and crannies of my mind that I like most come out in this hour of shuffle of snores and thoughtless patterns – or is that patternless thoughts(?). I think it will be more of me if I write this time. It’s like I’m channeling when I can accomplish that … how can it be termed? That “zone”? That moment when you realize the fingers have stopped and something is before your eyes. Be it a poem. A recollection given substance, weight. Tossing out cobwebs of thoughts and seeing them materialize into shimmers that slowly spin into another creation. Either of their own. Of mine. Or neither. Just another path that might call to your curiosity than the route you had intended.
Right now if I continue on this thought train trampoline, it will be not what it could be. Sometimes I can almost hear it breathing. Did it just roll over as I assumed it was asleep? Can it be as fun as I dream it and still be appropriate? As I watch it change and turn, regress, expand, and change again?
Also, I’m scared. I throw too much of my heartsongs heartstrings heartclings, take your pick, into it. I could fall away. You are touching the face of my dream as I watch you peer or skim what I’ve written. You are mouthing my secrets, my hidden thoughts, my courageous cowardliness of this little imaginary cove of isolation.
Falling away. Let’s fall away again. Slide.
I’m slowly approaching the foamy tide as it sweeps closer to my moon drenched toes. The wind prickling my skin. My hair slapping into tangles. I know it’s cold. I know it’s taste. Salt. I know it’s beckoning me. I know I could forever be satisfied standing at this moment, at this place. But I know the frustrations it unleashes and unfurls. The angular anger. The sharpness of it’s spray.
Chaos can be coy and clever in it’s clawing ways of lulling you into submission. Comforting chaos. Why? because it’s known. It’s around. Focus. That’s my fear. Direction. Purpose… these call up expectations that can bludgeon me before I begin. Or maybe I don’t need to “swim” but instead need to succumb. To let it funnel out like a typhoon. Let it rush out. Let it spiral, undulate, … let it take over? Maybe I’m just afraid of the “under toad” that will pull me out past my liking? Maybe I just need to drown. Feel the control bubble out of me. Let the reigns fall away fall away fall away.
Maybe in letting it go it won’t turn into a stranger you didn’t expect but instead you will evolve into something you’ve always loved and wanted more of? Maybe I can just for now let myself feel the water come up to my temples, my lips. Feel the coldness wander over my eyelids as my hair streaks outward. As I float along the shallow end, just for now, all the while magically keeping my toes out of the water.
See? The clarity of mud. Fumbling. Stumbling. Bumbling. But it’s okay. It’s known. I know where the sand sifts, and where the pebbles pinch. I’ve walked here before. Again. Always? I am my own drug of choice. I’m addicted to my own limits. I can just barely taste the limitlessness that only I can offer myself.
Here, I was saving this for Sven, but that piece deserves a “Sex On The Beach”
Sex On The Beach
Ingredients
1 cup Peach Schnapps
1 cup Midori Melon Liqueur
1 cup Rum
1 cup Raspberry Liqueur
1 1/2 qt Pineapple Juice
1 1/2 qt Cranberry Juice
1 bag Ice
Mixing Instruction
Makes 1 gallon of punch — mix all 4 liqueurs in 1 parts and fill rest with pineapple and cranberry juice.
thanks for walking along the beach.
Charlie Special
1 oz. Vodka
1 oz. Triple Sec
1 oz. Soda Water
Ice.
This is guaranteed to revive you in the middle of an all day drinking occasion. Uncle Charlie invented it, and the whole family swears by it. Stop a hangover before it happens! Goodnight BooTrib Café! Get Yvonne or Louise to do the serving…. and I have been using the Free Drinks Recipes if anyone is feeling adventurous.
You are touching the face of my dream as I watch you peer or skim what I’ve written. You are mouthing my secrets, my hidden thoughts, my courageous cowardliness of this little imaginary cove of isolation.
That is a really good description of what I am thinking when I (very rarely!) allow someone to read what I have written. It’s too personal. They’ll think I’m psychotic. They won’t get it.
This is what prevents me from keeping a serious journal. I’m horrified at the thought of my husband, after my death, reading my endless bouts of self-reflection and believing that he was the root of my unhappiness, when in fact it’s that I am completely, endlessly, hopelessly self-centered. It really is all about me. π
This is a Narcissists Only Night… If you don’t get off on the idea of your own ideas,,,, then find someone who’s ideas you do get off on and claim them as your own. Narcisssists and Plagiarists are Welcome!!! Have a piece of writing you think is too shitty to claim as your own??? Blame someone else!!!! Me for instance….
A special drink for you, Second Nature:
Nectar of the Gods
Ingredients
2 oz. Vodka
1 oz. Blueberry Schnapps
1 oz. Pineapple Juice
Mixing Instruction
Pour all ingredients into an old-fashioned glass. Stir, and serve.
Finally, my own people!
Cheers…and pass me another!
That is some of what the above blob was about. When I let my husband read some of my crap. I start to sweat… and what do I get? “it was guuud”.
I did the stupid thing AGAIN and let him read this and he said, “I don’t get it”. (it’s kinda sorta about how I shrivel up when you say “it was guuud Mr. Math and Numbers.”
Bullseye between my eyes.
Barkeep! Make mine a tremble… I mean triple. π
The Nearly Naked Lady
Ingredients
1 oz. White Rum
1 oz. Sweet Vermouth
4 dashes of Apricot Brandy
2 dashes of Grenadine
4 dashes of Lemon Juice
Mixing Instruction
Pour the white rum, sweet vermouth, apricot brandy, grenadine and lemon juice into a cocktail shaker half-filled with ice cubes. Shake well, strain into a highball glass, and serve.
I HAVE NEVER SEEN GERRY ADAMS SMILING LIKE THIS !!!
THIS IS A GREAT DAY !!!
GOD BLESS YOU GERRY !!!
THE IRISH FLAG
Ingredients
1 oz. Creme de Menthe (Green)
1 oz. Bailey’s Irish Cream (White)
1 oz. Southern Comfort (Orange)
Mixing Instruction
Pour into a Cordial Glass in order of green, white, gold, taking care not to mix the layers.
that this would happen on a day when the cafe’s not only not open-mike but featuring silent stars.
I’ll save my celebration tune for tomorrow and go back to enjoying the recipes.
my wife is having a wisdom tooth pulled tomorrow morning. Any good milkshakes around?
no shakes with berries. The seeds could cause some problems… and..
After any type of tooth extraction, one shouldn’t… SUCK. It can cause a form of socket pain… forget the name (sorry busy with din din and such – can’t. think. must. multi.task…) That’s why they say not to smoke or drink from a straw after extractions.
But spooning some wonderful soft-serv ice cream is great. Just don’t get it on the roof of your mouth, that’s how you get brainfreeze. It’s twue it’s twue.
But if she can — Kahlua milkshakes are guuurrreat π
Jamaican Milk Shake
Ingredients
1.5 oz. Rum
2 oz. Bourbon
1.5 oz. Milk
Mixing Instruction
Pour all ingredients into a blender and add about 3 oz. of cracked ice. Blend on low until smooth and pour into a glass.
This is not a milkshake, but a cold cucumber soup. Funnily enough, a friend of mine is having dental surgery and I was thinking of taking this round to her tomorrow. We’ve just been enjoying it lately as a light supper for hot days.
3 cucumbers, peeled and chopped
1-3 cups buttermilk
1-2 cups sour cream
a bit of dill
a bit of mint
parsley
black pepper
a bit of vinegar if you want a little bite to it
Sorry to be vague about the measurements, but really once you’ve got the cucumbers and dairy products mixed, you can add all other ingredients to taste.
puree the cucumbers in a food processor — add a bit of the buttermilk to help liquify it. In my case, I have to do this step in batches, as our food processor is very small.
Mix all the ingredients together in a big bowl and let it chill.
You can also add avocado and garlic to the puree step.
I like to serve it with toppings of croutons, bell peppers, tomato and avocado. Of course your wife might not be wanting the toppings tomorrow.
Recommended drink accompaniment: a nice martini made with Hendrick’s Gin.
here is one of my favorite Marcel Marceau photos. I didn’t get to use it….
But when I had some dental work done that did not allow me to eat food that had to be chewed, I found that if I put softer food in the food processor for a few seconds, it would be small enough pieces that did not require chewing…
Tell her best wishes on the surgery and be sure to rest a lot.
.
Sorry BooMan – brings back some vivid memories … long time ago. I was in my early twenties.
Needed my wisdom tooth pulled by a surgeon, as the job was too difficult for my normal dentist. The culprit sat horizontal pushing against the other upright molar tooth. The dentist I visited was a very fine professional, a bit expensive because it was a private choice and not covered by Dutch medical insurance. The wisdom tooth to be pulled by a surgeon on the contrary was covered, so my dentist gave me a choice of two top rated surgeons.
My choice brought me to a large home, a villa with waiting room already filled with patients, annex to operating room. It was warm and a bit stuffy, not making the wait comfortable. What really got me nervous, you could clearly hear the groan as each tooth was pulled, and a click sound as it was dropped in a metal receptacle.
At last it was my turn, so in best spirits I entered the room and was in the horizontal position to be looked at when the surgeon came in and introduced himself. He mentioned it would be a tough operation, but was disappointed I didn’t make the visit as private person, rather by choice for medical insurance coverage. Must be a difference in fee I imagined.
As soon as I heard his attitude, I stood up, picked up my patient card and mentioned in leaving the room I was in the wrong location.
Later I made a new appointment with the other surgeon, affiliated with the local hospital and this was a difference as day and night. No muggy waiting room but an excellent reception to put one at ease. Must have been someone’s birthday, because the surgeon returned from lunch still eating a pastry. The operation with chisel and hammer took at least twenty minutes, but it never bothered me a bit and the surgery was done in a very professional, almost casual way.
I was very glad to have made that instant decision to leave! Now I need a drink, my GP always tells me the best prescription at times.
~~~
~~~
Cuban Breeze
Ingredients
1 oz Vodka
1 oz Amaretto Almond Liqueur
6 oz Pineapple Juice
Mixing Instruction
Pour vodka and amaretto into a hurricane glass filled with ice cubes. Fill with pineapple juice. Garnish with a pineapple wedge and a maraschino cherry, and serve.
Thanks for inviting me suskind. This place allows me to breathe freely. I don’t feel I have to watch everything I say as I did at dailykos and even then got banned out of there.
welcome to BooTrib! Glad to have you here, are you in Europe too?
Welcome, abbeysbooks! I like your sig line.
and when the morning comes, I will speak, but for now, I must think.
G’nite to all, and to all a good night
What’s the problem Infidel, sounds bad….hope everything is ok.
My Left Wing isn’t on BooMan’s BLOGROLL?!?
Am I gonna have to sneak in there while I still have Super Secret Admin Powers and DO IT MYSELF???
Welcome to the cafe MSOC. You’re site is listed under the Fellow Kossacks section. You are one of the elite! π
Be careful with those Super Secret Admin Powers, I hear you can get someone thrown in jail for leaking your status.
your site, not you’re site. proof that i need to sign off. bye everyone!
though the spouse is already snoring…
Good night to all…may flights of Beatles sing thee to thy rest…
Good night Sleep tight
Now the sun turns out his light
Good night Sleep tight
Dream sweet dreams for me
Dream sweet dreams for you.
Close your eyes and I’ll close mine
Good night Sleep tight
Now the moon begins to shine
Good night Sleep tight
Dream sweet dreams for me
Dream sweet dreams for you.
Close your eyes and I’ll close mine
Good night Sleep tight
Now the sun turns out his light
Good night Sleep tight
Dream sweet dreams for me
Dream sweet dreams for you.
Good night Good night Everybody
Everybody everywhere
Good night.
I’ll reach into the thin air and pull out my handy dandy Ball-O-Wisdom, give it a good shaking – not stirred, and ask it to provide the devine answer to my query.
Good morning tribunes. It’s past 8am here. Can I distract you lushes from the drink recipes to beg Suskind for the story of Marceau and my hero Charlie Chaplin?
Version One: Chaplin was travelling with his family, which included a large number of children. On recognizing Marceau, the children said, “Look Father, the clown!” So Chaplin gave the children permission to go over and say hello to Marceau. Chaplin walked over to Marceau, and their meeting went something like this. Marceau took the hand of his ideal and said, “Monsiour, it is my great honor to meet the master of my art.” Chaplin took Marceau’s hand and brought it to his lips and said, “Sir, the honor is mine.” In this way the aging Chaplin passed on to the young man the ageis of the greatest pantomime artist in the world.
Version Two: Many years ago, in a busy airport, Marceau spied Chaplin and family waiting to board their plane, and approached them. After the initial hellos and obligatory Little Tramp impersonations (“I imitated him, he imitated me imitating him, you see?”), Chaplin’s flight was announced. Feeling panic at not having time to express his appreciation and admiration, Marceau bent and kissed Chaplin’s hand. He continues, “When I looked up, he had tears in his eyes. And now I understand. Chaplin was reaching 80. In being recognized by the next generation, Chaplin knew exactly that you loved his work. Every time you made a show, you spoke about Chaplin.”
Version Three: Marcel beams as he describes a chance encounter with his hero at an airport in 1967. At the time, Marceau was a young man about to start his career, and Chaplin was a revered old star. “How could I thank him for everything he did?” Marceau says. “So I took his hand. And then when I kissed his hand, he had tears in his eyes.” Marceau sees the moment as a kind of baton-passing from one generation of artists to another. He adds modestly: “I don’t want to make a monument of what I’m saying. I want to be humble.”
My meeting with Marcel Marceau in 2003: It was the 20h anniversary of his last performance at the Olympia Theatre in Dublin. I was there because I had a gift for M. Marceau — a painting commemorating a performance he had given in 1963 in a small fishing village where I grew up.
I arrived at the theatre early to leave it for him. And out came one of his troupe to ask did I want to meet M. Marceau. “Oh, no, I said, “I just want to leave him the painting.” “Well, M. Marceau is rehearsing for his performance tonight, but perhaps if you come back tonight he will want to meet you.”
At three AM in a little alley I waited with a mother and daughter who had been at the performance 20 years earlier…… And then, there he was, back lit, still with his thick makeup, making him look quite feminine… a tiny person, really, in auburn and oatmeal colored clothes.
Immediately Marcel wanted to talk…. “Oh, no… I don’t want to talk!!” I said. But he said… “People do not want theatre…. they want movies. Movies to them is real. But theatre is metaphor, and the people do not want metaphor.” He admired the painting and accepted it most graciously. Of course when I met him I kissed his hand, and he… well, he was very kind.
Suskind – that was beautifully written. Thank you so much. I never knew so much about Marcel, but have always loved Charlie. It’s inspiring to read about a well-deserved moment of happiness in his later years.
Guess we better let these drinkers toddle off to bed for now –
I have just written you a book, and I will post it in a Diary…. and you will know it is for you because it says “For Alice”
.
~~~