ANOTHER "DINNER WITH ANDRE" (ACTUALLY JOHN K.)

Let's see...I arrived late and caught John doodling on the paper place mat. We said hello, briefly talked about John's latest blog, and agreed that we were both fine people who the rest of the world would do well to emulate. We placed our orders and John asked for his usual side order of onion which, remarkably, arrived at the table freshly sliced, Just the way he likes it.

John opened up the serious talk of the evening with a with a flat statement that Larry Fine was an unjustly neglected Stooge. He said that Moe was responsible for Larry getting less screen time than Curly. I was amazed. I never heard John say anything bad about Moe before. We agreed that Larry was necessary to the word music of the trio and the pizza came.

Fred Krippin's name came up -- Fred was the genius behind "Roger Ramjet" and the National Lumber commercials-- and I said Fred was a terrific sound editor as well as a terrific director. John talked about how important a good sound track is and how the great sound people don't get the credit they deserve. Fortunately we know about Treg Brown, the great Warners' sfx man, but we don't know much about how he and Stalling collaborated.

Neither of us knew who did the Stooges sfx. It's amazing that someone could do such good work and remain anonymous. John said the Stooge sfx were used in other Columbia shorts but not effectively.

We talked about baggy shorts and maxi-skirts heralding the decline of Western civilization and marveled that that Jenny Lerew could like the early 1920s clothes that I blogged about. Seeking a more manly subject than women's clothes, we speculated about two art slumps that may have occurred between 1890 and 1923. John said something similar might have occurred in the early 50s. He cited the close, curly, George Washington women's hair styles that spinsters and old ladies wore in the 50s.

There we were talking about women's things again and, seeking balance, we decided to talk about...nazis. We agreed that what art schools need to clean up their act is a few nazi art teachers who would force students to learn how to draw whether they like it or not.

Well, all good things come to an end. John generously handed me the box containing the uneaten pizza and I put it in the car. I was sorely tempted to eat it while driving but I remembered my poor, ragged family who were probably shivering by the dying embers in the fireplace, waiting for me to come home with a few crumbs to sustain life through the night. I would save the pizza for them.

For most of the trip I stalwartly avoided looking at the pizza box then I thought, "Well, what the heck? A look won't hurt." Then I figured one bite won't hurt, and then I thought no one would want the slice with a bite out of it so I had to eat the whole piece. Then...then only the box remained by the time I got home.