My Impromptus today is headed “Back to the movies, &c.” The image over the column is of minions, or Minions — those lovable, wacky yellow creatures who populate the Despicable Me series. (Maybe someone can make a series about temple life, titled “Minyans”?)
I also write about writing. I commend an article by Kevin D. Williamson, published in the Wall Street Journal, about summer men’s fashion. His article reminded me of something I wrote about Bill Buckley, in 1997 — namely, this:
For a demonstration of Buckley in stylistic splendor, I invite readers to locate the November 25, 1996, issue of National Review, in which Buckley has a piece on cigars. Now, I, personally, would usually rather slit my throat than read about cigars, but so glittering is this essay that I had no choice but to xerox it, to keep as an example of what “the performing writer” (Buckley’s words) can do.
(To see that piece of mine, in full, go here.)
A reader writes,
Hi, Jay,
. . . You mentioned an article WFB wrote on cigars. I am unable to find it. Are you able to provide any guidance?
Well, on the great wide Net, I found this copy — not very pretty, but adequate. Bill’s essay begins, “I was a juvenile delinquent and began smoking at 15.” (He was great at opening lines. And other lines.) The second sentence reads, “The addiction was so strong that I soon found it influencing my life.”
Yup.
In my column on Monday, I wrote about octaves — and how many a person can sing. There is a great deal of confusion, and misinformation, about octaves. Anyway, a reader writes me about Yma Sumac, a legend of the 20th century. She was a Peruvian singer and actress, who was born “Zoila Augusta Emperatriz Chávarri del Castillo.” What a beautiful string of names.
It was said she could sing close to five octaves. An expert tells me, “More like three. The top is ‘whistle tone,’ which is different. Still, mightily impressive.” Yessiree.
Would you like to hear Señora Sumac sing “Virgin of the Sun God,” in 1960? Go here. Hold on to your socks.
In that Monday column, I was talking about typos and misspellings. A reader writes,
About 30 years ago, I was editing the newspaper our seminary put out. Someone, playing off the famous Wendy’s ad, had written a devotional whose final line was, “In your prayer life, where’s the beef?” What I published, however, was, “In your prayer life, where’s the beer?”
I caught grief for that the remainder of my time in school.
Readers and I have been talking about “Desperado,” the Eagles classic from 1973. A reader now writes,
Hello, Jay,
. . . “Desperado” was also featured in a Seinfeld episode in which Elaine dates a guy whose favorite song it is. When it comes on, he shushes her.
Brilliant. Here. Thanks to one and all.