World Ending, Lots to Do

We know now that in the early years of the twentieth century this world was being watched closely by intelligences greater than man's, and yet as mortal as his own. We know now that as human beings busied themselves about their various concerns they were scrutinized and studied, perhaps almost as narrowly as a man with a microscope might scrutinize the transient creatures that swarm and multiply in a drop of water.

With infinite complacence people went to and fro over the earth about their little affairs, serene in the assurance of their dominion over this small, spinning fragment of solar driftwood which, by chance or design, man has inherited out of the dark mystery of Time and Space. - Orson Welles' Intro to War of the Worlds

Oooh, you gotta love Orson Welles and you gotta love the fact that this guy was only 22 years old when he rocked the nation with his radio play, War of the Worlds, in 1938. Imagine what a guy like Orson would do with the power of YouTube. He'd have us all cowering in our basements and rushing to churches to be saved from hellfires and damnation.

Of course, using the power of the internet, we'd be able to do some quick google news searches and know he was full of shit in 3 seconds flat but STILL, the fun we would have! Damn it Orson, wish you were alive today to see what a media maelstrom you gave birth to. Top THAT Miss Jackson (cause I am nasty!) and your bare booby scandal!

Newspaper Reactions, Transcript of Broadcast

Probably the most widely known event to be generally considered a mass hysteria occurred on Sunday evening, October 30, 1938. Orson Welles and his CBS Mercury Theater group presented an adaptation of one of H. G. Welles's then lesser-known short stories, "The War of the Worlds," which described a nineteenth-century Martian invasion of England. The Mercury Theater adaptation was set in the present (1938) and took place in the United States.

Perhaps Welles's most consequential decision was to use an "open format" during the first half of the show. Instead of using the conventional dramatic format of background music, narration, and dialogue, the first announcements of the Martian invasion took the form of simulated news bulletins, interrupting a program of dance music. Welles's second most consequential decision was to use the names of actual New Jersey and New York towns, highways, streets, and buildings when describing the movements and attacks of the Martians.

These two decisions, plus the fact that most listeners tuned in eight to twelve minutes late and therefore missed the Mercury Theater theme and introduction, set the stage for what was to follow. Thousands of people across the United States assumed they were listening to real news bulletins and public announcements. A substantial portion of these listeners became very frightened and attempted to call police, the National Guards, hospitals, newspapers, and radio stations for information. In addition, people tried to contact family members, friends, and neighbors. By the time Mercury Theater's first station break came, informing people they were listening to a CBS radio drama, most of the broadcast's damage had been done.

The next day, newspapers across the country carried stories of terrorized people hiding in basements, panic flight from New Jersey and New York, stampedes in theaters, heart attacks, miscarriages, and even suicides. During the months that followed, these stories were shown to have little if any substance, yet today the myth of War of the Worlds stampedes and suicides persists as part of American folklore. One clear and certain result of the broadcast, however, was a number of Federal Communication Commission regulations, issued within weeks of the broadcast, prohibiting the use of the open format in radio drama. [...]

Below are some highlights from the news stories:

NEW YORK (AP). Urgent demands for federal investigation multiplied in the wake of the ultra-realistic radio drama that spread mass hysteria among listeners across the nation with its "news broadcast" fantasy of octopus-like monsters from Mars invading the United States and annihilating cities and populaces with a lethal "heat ray."

While officials at the Harvard astronomical observatory calmed fears of such a conquest by space devouring hordes from another planet with the wry comment that there was no evidence of higher life existing on Mars--some 40,000,000 miles distant--local and federal officials acted to prevent a repetition of such a nightmarish episode.

As for the 22 year old "man from Mars" himself, Orson Welles, youthful actor manager and theatrical prodigy, whose vivid dramatization of H. G. Wells' imaginative "The War of the Worlds" jumped the pulse beat of radio listeners, declared himself "just stunned" by the reaction. "Everything seems like a dream," he said.

* * * *
A message from Providence, R. I., said: "Weeping and hysterical women swamped the switchboard of The Providence Journal for details of the massacre and destruction at New York, and officials of the electric company received scores of calls urging them to turn off all lights so that the city would be safe from the enemy."

In Indianapolis a woman ran into a church screaming: "New York destroyed; it's the end of the world. You might as well go home to die. I just heard it on the radio." Services were dismissed immediately.

A man in Pittsburgh said he returned home in the midst of the broadcast and found his wife in the bathroom, a bottle of poison in her hand, and screaming: "I'd rather die this way than like that."

The New Jersey State Police teletyped the following:

"Note to all receivers--WABC broadcast as drama re this section being attacked by residents of Mars. Imaginary affair."

The switchboard of The New York Times was overwhelmed by the calls. A total of 875 were received. One man who called from Dayton, Ohio, asked, "What time will it be the end of the world?" A caller from the suburbs said he had had a houseful of guests and all had rushed out to the yard for safety.

A garbled version of the reports reached the Dixie Bus terminal, causing officials there to prepare to change their schedule on confirmation of "news" of an accident at Princeton on their New Jersey route. Miss Dorothy Brown at the terminal sought verification, however, when the caller refused to talk with the dispatcher, explaining to here that "the world is coming to an end and I have a lot to do."

And now for some fun with The Simpsons and Orson Welles' classic - note the great Iraqi war references towards the end (and the mud wallowing is genius). The Simpsons are another bit of modern pop culture that I can imagine Orson digging.

Sigh, it kinda sucks he was born so ahead of his time but I guess people in the 30s needed some salacious sleaze to go with their evening cocktails before the auspicious advent of internet porn and Valium.

To think, this radio broadcast is over 60 years old and, if you listen to it today, it is still spine tingling. Especially after 9-11 when martians really did set NYC ablaze. With paranoia so rampant these days, another War of the Worlds incident almost seems plausible. I can understand why people freaked out. After all, it is the end of the world, and I have a lot of things to DO!

Beyonce Tells It...

...like it is. To quote my lovely lady's new song Irreplaceable, "To the left, to the left, everything you own in the box to the left...you made your bed now lie in it, don't you ever get to thinking you're irreplaceable." Thanks sister.

IRREPLACEABLE
By Beyonce

So go ahead and get gone
And call up on that chick and see if she is home
Oops, I bet ya thought that I didn't know
What did you think I was putting you out for?
Cause you was untrue
Rolling her around in the car that I bought you
Baby you dropped them keys hurry up before your taxi leaves
Standing in the front yard telling me
How I am such a fool - Talking about
How I'll never ever find a man like you
You got me twisted

You must not know about me
You must not know about me
I could have another you in a minute
matter fact he'll be here in a minute - baby

You must not know about me
You must not know about me
I will have another you by tomorrow
So don't you ever for a second get to thinking you're irreplaceable

So since I'm not your everything
How about I'll be nothing
Nothing at all to you
Baby I won't shed a tear for you
I won't lose a wink of sleep
Cause the truth of the matter is
Replacing you is so easy

Cool VT Blog

I have been digging Jeff's Vermont blog Midnight Modern Conversation for some time now. He is a super cool outdoorsy guy and goes on lots of healthy hikes and takes neat pictures along the way.

Definitely check out his flickr stream for a great taste of Vermont. Jeff likes to take pictures of butterflies, mushrooms, the moon, old train cars, etc. but is branching out these days into other areas. His cyclist photos were recently featured in the Free Press (link) and his beautiful butterfly pic, above, recently got some love on flickr.

In Jeff's words:

"I don't anticipate that this blog will have a wide audience. It is really just a writing exercise that I should have probably kept to myself. It will try and adopt a post-consumerist, post-carbon sentiment without being too dour and depressing. "

Sigh, the plight of all bloggers. Seems to me that blogging is basically a lot of people doing writing exercises better kept to themselves but shared none-the-less. Still, there is nothing better than pictures of butterflies and bugs to counteract this modern day depressing state of affairs. Oh, and modern midnight conversations never hurt either!

PS And Jeff, if you read this, thanks for the mini bottle of champagne. I drank it while watching my new episode and it hit the spot! ;)

DBC28 Premieres Tonight

The Deadbeat Club
November 2006
Episode 28
The Broken Show
Sundays, 9pm
Fridays, 11:30PM
Channel 15

Tune in tonight to wallow in the death, destruction and pain. Good times for all! Fun for the family, only beware the cussing and corpses!

In my defense, I was barely awake when this show went to tape this morning at 8am, so I am hazy about what the hell this episode is about. Then again, I am never really all that sure.

Suffice to say, if you are a wee bit sad already, best to watch Desperate Housewives tonight instead of this downer. I blame Edward Gorey, yes, that is the ticket.

THE INSECT GOD

O what has become of Millicent Frastley?
Is there any hope that she's still alive?
Why haven't they found her? It's rather ghastly
To think that the child was not yet five.

The dear little thing was last seen playing
Along by herself at the edge of the park;
There was no one with her to keep her from straying
Away in the shadows and oncoming dark.

Before she could do so, a silent and glittering
Black motor drew up where she sat nibbling grass;
From within came a nearly inaudible twittering,
A tiny green face peered out through the glass.

She was ready to flee, when the figure beckoned;
An arm with two elbows held out a tin
Full of cinnamon balls; she paused; a second
Reached out as she took one, and lifted her in.

The nurse was discovered collapsed in some shrubbery,
But her reappearance was not much use;
Her eyes were askew, he extremities rubbery,
Her clothing was stained with a brownish juice.

She was questioned in hopes of her answers revealing
What had happened; she merely repeatedly said
'I hear them walking about on the ceiling'.
She had gone irretrievably out of her head.

O feelings of horror, resentment, and pity
For things, which so seldom turn out for the best;
The car, unobserved, sped away from the city
As the last of the light died out in the west.

The Frastleys grew sick with apprehension,
Which a heavy tea only served to increase;
Though they felt it was scarcely genteel to mention
The loss of their child, they called in the police.

Through unvisited hamlets the car went creeping,
With its head lamps unlit and its curtains drawn;
Those natives who happened not to be sleeping
Heard it pass, and lay awake until dawn.

The police with their torches and notebooks descended
On the haunts of the underworld, looking for clues;
In spite of their praiseworthy efforts, they ended
With nothing at all in the way of news.

The car, after hours and hours of travel,
Arrived at a gate in an endless wall;
It rolled up a drive and stopped on the gravel
At the foot of a vast and crumbling hall. As the night wore away, hope started to languish
And soon was replaced by all manner of fears;
The family twisted their fingers in anguish,
Or got them all damp from the flow of their tears.

They removed the child to the ball-room, whose hangings
And mirrors were streaked with a luminous slime;
They leapt through the air with buzzings and twangings
To work themselves up to a ritual crime.

They stunned her, and stripped off her garments, and lastly
They stuffed her inside a kind of a pod;
And then it was that Millicent Frastley
Was sacrificed to The Insect God

Lost Openness

Man, it is just NOT fair. Since I moved back to VT, it has been hard making close friends and when I finally did make some, they have to cut out on me and leave the state! Damn it! But I am happy for them, really I am. And even more happy that they swung back through town this weekend to give us all a much needed Abbie/Lesh fix. Too bad they can't bottle that shit cause I would become an addict fer sure!

Even better, we got to meet their new fellows, Seth and Dave who are all that they should be to deserve such fabulous ladies. It is nice to be around happy, caring couples who so obviously adore each other. Gives a girl hope.

Not being much of a bar scene person, I felt a wee bit awkward, especially since I was stone cold sober and fixated on editing my episode. The most time I ever spent in a bar was when I was bartending for 2 1/2 years and that was almost 10 years ago (man, time fucking flies!).

I learned a lot about people at that job, probably more than any other I've ever had. But I couldn't have spent all that time there if I didn't have something to do, pouring drinks kept me distracted. I was never a bar fly, hanging out in bars never appealed to me much.

Seth described the unique feel of the bar perfectly as a "lost openness." That is much of the charm of the bar scene, the boundaries disappear and everyone is drunk and happy to be alive. As Jez of Peep Show says, "You can't be depressed when you're pissed, it's just not possible."

And inevitably, the next morning you wake up and find that the openness has closed up and only the lost remains - but at least you have your hazy memories of that open feeling and maybe you can recreate it if you are lucky.

Despite the girl's reappearance in Burlington this weekend, I had to spend most of my time glued to my G5 in order to finish editing the new episode of The Deadbeat Club. I took a couple of alcohol/girl breaks and still managed to turn the beast in this AM at eight. This was after staying up all night snipping and preening and honing the bastard down to one hour. I am afraid that it sucks but I always say that.

Left to my own devices, I would never be awake as early as 8am on a weekend. Unless I stay up all night finishing an episode (and being such a class A slacker, I am always working up until the last minute), I sleep till noon. This morning, as I drove the tape to VCAM, the sun was shining brightly and there were lots of bundled up people walking their dogs. Nice to see the morning people in their element soaking up this crisp fall day and the clean morning sun. They seemed open and not so lost.

PS Despite a lot of devilish temptations, I resisted the urge to smoke last night. That makes it 4 days and no ciggies. Yeah for me!

PPS Lovely ladies, one of you left a gray sweatshirt at my house, it smells good...mmmm....I will hold it hostage until you come back to visit again! Miss you muchly!

Girls Come to Town!

Yeah! Abbie and Lesh have come back for the weekend and I getta see 'em tonight! Even better, Lesh and Seth are in the midst of an exciting adventure on the road and have many good stories to share.
I think I will try to pack myself into one of their suitcases and see if they accidentally bring me with them! I won't reveal myself till we reach Kalamazoo. Finally, the Offasty is back together again and it is like no time ever passed!

(Above is the elusive Leshlie creature, also known as THE cutest couple EVER!)

PS Two days, no smokes, hells yeah! Bloody gum operation, here I come!

TV Love

I do SO adore the British comedy duo of 3 Girls in a Boat (myspace site) which is made up of Yorkshire lasses Anne-Marie Draycott & Charity Trimm (yes, those are their real names!?). They put out some witty, articulate, edgy shit and this new sketch is right up there.

I freely admit to being a total TV addict. Thus, it never ceases to annoy me when I am telling someone about something funny I saw on TV and they look down their nose at me and reply distainfully, "I don't watch TV."

Man, that irritates me. So for all the people who share this pet peeve, this is the comedy sketch for you:



And btw, when does the show "Paris Hilton's All My Areas Open For Access" air in the States? Oh, that's right, I just have to turn on the TV and there it will be!

New DBC Airs Sunday

The Deadbeat Club
November 2006
Episode 28

Premieres: Sunday, 11/5/06, 9pm
Plays: Fridays at 11:30pm and Sundays at 9pm for the month of November on Channel 15

As always, I have been slacking off this month and am behind on DBC28. You would think with 2 whole months inbetween episodes that I would manage to get this beast to VCAM on time BUT NO, it turns out that whatever my deadline is, I always manage to be a little bit late.

I fear it has something to do with a genetic propensity toward procrastination. My dad is the same way. Waiting 'till the last minute to compose a piece of music and then staying up for weeks to get the thing out the door.

Reminds me of that scene in Adaptation when Charlie Kaufman's (as played by Nic Cage) inner monologue tries to slither out of doing any work; "Maybe I should go get a cup of coffee and then write...or maybe one of those muffins, that's be good."

Anyways, if I can clamp down this weekend and all goes according to plan, then the November episode of The Deadbeat Club will air on Channel 15 Sunday at 9pm. Here is a preview of the show's contents which may or may not all be in it, depending on space:

DBC28 Contents

Apple picking at Shelburne Orchards
Mom Talks Politics
Eva and GoogTube
Granny's Goodbye
Granny's Funeral

Break Up 101

Margot and Zombies

The Offasty 3: Copy Cat

Actress Oscar Bids

Art Beat: Edward Gorey

This episode is sort of centered on death and endings. My grandmother's death and funeral in Iowa got me on a pretty moody train of thought as of late. I can't say the November show isn't dark but I think life is a wee bit dark these days so what are you going to do?! Answer: wallow in it and try to make sense of things using art!

And if you are suffering from some sort of heartbreak, this is the show for you! There are the Top 5 Best Break Ups (from films like Say Anything and Valley Girl), a list of How to Break Up in Ten Easy Steps, and the break up montage is a doozy! So if your misery loves company then tune in!

If you are in the Burlington Vermont area, we hope you can watch! If not, bits and pieces will be posted on YouTube!

Blow the Smoke Away

Oh, the pain, the suffering. I know cigarettes are disgusting, this I know. Does that stop me from wanting one, hell no. And now I am quitting, again. Not because I want to but because I have to. A nasty surgery that I have finally decided to go ahead with makes this deprivation necessary. Damn it! Curses!

I smoked briefly in my early 20s when I was bartending in California. I loved those leisurely cigarette breaks back when you could smoke while working behind the bar. I would make myself a cup of weak coffee, switch to the Simpsons and enjoy one long, lovely drag after another.

Granted, it was pretty sick that my clothes reeked of cigarette smoke when I got home at night. But it wasn't much worse than my old job at the coffee store when i came home stinking of coffee.

Eventually, after I moved from slinging drinks to VFX, I quit smoking for good. I don't recall it being that hard of a transition because I was never a heavy smoker. Plus, many of my friends stopped smoking around the same time and this made it easier to abstain. Maybe it had something to do with all of us growing up or something?

Still, watching the programmers milling around outside smoking their 10th ciggie of the day and inhaling their 4th can of Jolt, a part of me got a wee bit wistful. I wanted some time outdoors to space out and relax. Fact was, without a cigarette in my hand, I would just look like I was jacking off! Oh, the unfairness of it all!

Still, I stayed a non-smoker for many years. They say your lungs will turn pink again after 7 years without smoking and I made it that long...until I fell off the wagon recently.

There is something about stress that makes smoking inevitable. When the world is falling apart around you, there are many crutches you can reach for: booze, pills, sex, hard drugs or, my personal favorite, nicotine.

What can I say? I needed a little bit of help. Something to look forward to in the morning. Something stronger than my usual cup of tea. Smoking again has been so much fun. I love to smoke in my car with the windows open. I love to smoke on long, luxurious drives and drink in the scenery as whisps of smoke drift out the window.

I love to share cigarettes with people, your fingers touching mid-hand off and bonding you in that special smoking moment. I love to stand outside with strangers who are all smoking, and feel somehow tied to them by our mutual act of sucking and blowing. I love to take little smoke breaks and dawdle around the neighborhood. I love to smoke at night and look at the stars. I love to smoke and chat with my far off friends on my cell phone.

I love the ritual of taking out a cigarette, all long and graceful, securing it in your mouth, lighting the flame to its tip and sucking in its dark cloud of death. I love the fact that every single cigarette shortens my time on this planet. When I smoke, it is like I am embracing death and saying "How dee do." Shit, I love to smoke.

Ah well, quit I must do and quit I will do. I've only been smoking for a couple of months but I can't help but be slightly embarrassed when people I know see me smoking. There is the inevitable sideways glance and then a bit of an under the breath "Tut, tut." Makes me feel like I got caught red handed flashing little kids or something. Christ, they're MY lungs to kill as I see fit, damn it!

Granted, I am old enough to know better. And there is something sort of sad about smoking old people I guess. But the deciding factor was the embarrassment of telling my surgeon that I had been smoking and the horrified look on his face as he listed the litany of problems smoking might cause after surgery. Damn it, time to give up the ghost.

Still, even once I am smoke-free and waiting another 7 years for my lungs to get clean, I will always, always, love cigarettes for the quiet personal time they give me to sort through my thoughts and stand around doing nothing.

A really smart person should figure out something comparable for non-smokers, like a "thought break" or a "cloud watching break." But it would probably never catch on, there is just no substitute for red glowing death on a stick...

STREB's Rollercoaster

We get a lot of great acts at the Flynn but tonights' was body rock slammed out of the damn ballpark! STREB is a dance company based out of Williamsburg, New York. STREB is the creation and dream of the powerhouse choreographer, Elizabeth Streb.

Elizabeth Streb is the kind of person that you can't really miss. She stands out in a crowd and even though our first show was on Halloween, her look was no costume, the lady just has style. She talks to everyone.

Randomly grabbing high school kids as they pass and asking them to find her after the show and tell her what they thought. Chatting with the guy who drives the tractor trailer hauling around their massive set and reprimanding her dancers for sneezing out of turn (her pet peeve). You gotta love big personalities but maybe that is just me.

The dancers are ripped like prime specimans of the human species. STREB's vision is to mix dance with gymnastics and her choreography is a cross between a sporting event, the ballet and a trip to the fair.

STREB's dancers are a mass of muscles and hard edges, not an ounce of fat on their lean limbs. There is a certain aura people like that give off, as though they are in a different stratum from the rest of us flabby mortals.

And then, to see them perform on stage: spinning, bouncing, slamming, somersaulting, balancing, twisting, soaring and leaping through a rigidly choreographed number. The amount of pain they inflict on their rock hard bodies to perform these feats of athletic prowess must be massive.

Backstage there was a first aid kit sitting open as though it was in constant use. I couldn't help but wonder what the 60+ body slams they do per day did to their insides. They must be made of steel.

Add all this to the stage sized video screen which pumps flashing imagery of planes, graphics, light trails and computer imagery that feeds into the dance to a melodic soundtrack that stretches from classical to new wave to upbeat and you have an unparalleled 3 dimensional theatrical experience.

I must admit that I often find the theater experience wanting. Even if a company is wonderful and doing a show that I really enjoy such as Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (I left that one at intermission), there is a part of me that is sort of disconnected and counting the fleur de lis painted on the wall.

Maybe it is my short attention span which is most likely a direct result of too much channel surfing and YouTube flipping, but whatever its cause, ultimately, for theater to survive the modern world, it needs to adapt and morph into something that can hold the interest of an audience of channel flippers. Call me crazy, go ahead!

STREB could be the slamming, rock hard wave signalling this change, it certainly leaves you feeling elated and breathless. Not only is it original and modern, but it gives you the feeling that you are flying, and there is not much better than that in my book.

You know that wonderful feeling you get at an amusement park when you are spinning around in one of those cobra thingies and it feels like any moment, the car might detach and you'll go soaring off into space, and eventually fly like a bird. It is exhilerating, frightening and exciting. The feeling of weightlessness, sort of like a return to the womb but more fun.

Additionally, STREB give you the *gasps* you find at the circus. As the dancers fall, one by one, in a regimented and quick flow, from a platform which is quickly getting higher and higher, I can't help but gasp out loud, sometimes yelling, "Nooo, don't do it!" And when the last dancer waits at the top of the now 25+ foot high platform, I yell, "Jump, jump, jump, do it!" and when he falls, I scream as though at the climax of a horror movie. It is so fun to evoke these animal instincts and emotions. So few of my theater experiences give me such a thrill. I am too busy shifting in my seat and thinking about what to cook for dinner.

The student matinees were packed to the brim and the excitement was emmenating off the kids like a fiery furnace. They were told in the intro that they could make as much noise as they liked and they went to town. The elementary school crowd screamed at the top of their lungs, clapped and yelled (it sounded like a theater full of little girls with Beatlemania!). The high school crowd were slightly more subdued but they still participated with yells and applause.

I must admit to being vaguely disappointed by the older crowd that attended the evening show. There were some awkward smatterings of applause, a "Whoo" here or there and an occasional gasp but I was the only one yelling, "Jump, jump, jump!" and squealing in fear and excitement.

I always enjoy a show more when I am allowed to interact with it. It makes me feel like I am a part of a once in a lifetime experience, and I suppose that is the joy of the performing arts. Each show is different every time they perform it. Every detail is unique to that location. I hope in the future, we'll see more shows like STREB. Dance companies that are ebbing and flowing with the modern world and keeping us flexible and alive as we become more and more sedentary and computer based.

STREB is building on what we have and what we know and spiriting us back to a better time, back to our childhood when we were strong,happy, flexible and always ready for a tumble. A time when spinning around the jungle gym bar at the playground brought us immense joy and when it was ok to get close to your neighbor and perhaps hold them in the palm of your hand or balance with them on a thin ribbon. There is a clear, invigorating, child-like joy in a show like this. STREB is a breath of fresh air in an ancient, rarely aired room.

You can read the Flynn's Study Guide about STREB here. You can see STREB on YouTube here. Below is a promo for Wild Blue Yonder, the show they just performed at the Flynn.

Bettie's Booty

Ah YouTube, just when I think our love affair is over, you go and pull me in again with some new gem. First it was all the videos of Elliott Smith performing live and now it is 50s girlie films starring the one, the only, Miss Bettie Mae Page.

When digitizing my Grandpa's 16mm films from the 50s, I found a girlie movie in which a lady took off her top and tastefully shook her boobs around for about 4 minutes. I could almost picture my granddad spending his days working as a mechanic in the garage that he owned, grabbing a beer with his fellow Freemasons and perhaps playing this girlie flick - I mean, who knows what exactly those Masons are up to, right?!

These old films of Bettie Page have a mysterious quality to them. She dances around in a tightly choreographed dance number and is not half bad. I love the happy smile she seems incapable of wiping off her face (hmm, I can think of another person who has one of those neverending smiles...). Every moment or so she will try to do a sexy face but always falls back to her happy, warm, welcoming smile. No wonder so many men loved watching her films and perusing her photos.

This video starts off with a nice shot of Betty's bum and ends with the same generous sight. I love it how she manages to make a dirty girlie film seem classy somehow. It is partially that porn from that time period is a great deal tamer than nowadays but it is also a feeling specific to her. She has this pure, good girl persona which no amount of bondage, stripping and booty shaking can erase.

After being one of the most well known pin ups of her time, Bettie converted to Christianity and disappeared into thin air. In her 80s now, she was not even aware of her resurgence in popularity. I hope she has finally started to reep some profit from her million dollar images.

She rarely allows her picture taken as she doesn't want people to remember her old. That is understandable. Marilyn Monroe and James Dean will always be remembered as young and perfect, that is easier somehow. Despite the inevitable passing of time, Bettie's youthful figure and generous smile is burned into our country's collective consciousness.

And now, ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you, the beautiful, the innocent, the ever smiling, Bettie Page.



For more dancing Bettie, check out Bettie as a harem girl (see video) and Bettie in a bikini (see video)! For all this and more, we love you YouTube!