COME WHAT MAY ~ AT THE BIJOU'S BROADWAY BOUND TO CHEER ON ONE OF OUR OWN!

AT THE BIJOU 

BROADWAY

BOUND!

Well . . . 

one of our spectacular writers is!

Come what MAY, 

we're cheering her on ~

Author/Playwright Debbie Lamedman

in short story and long success,

and we're smiling once again at Mongo

sneakin' into the Mothers' Day scene ~

 Oh that Mike Whitney! 

Rock on Stars, rock on!

MONGO COMES HOME FOR MOTHERBOARD'S DAY ~ By Mike Whitney of Harbinger*33

Mongo Comes Home

for MotherBoard's Day

By ~ the rockin' solid Mike Whitney

ChipDonor Max.v4 tried to bond with his humanoid output, but it taxed his resources, "So, Mongo, you chip off the old chip. What did you learn in school?"

Mongo stared and recited, "I was/am/will be a Cro-Magnon cave dweller, mated to a female mortal and binary fission father to a boy. Life in this past, uh, hunting very hard - everything is bigger than me."

RealParent™ Maxine rotated in place, touching keypads on both arm pods as she prepared RealFood™. Her chest screen glowed warmly; she loved having her boy home.

© 2002 RealPeople™ / Author Mike Whitney

MIKE WHITNEY never misses an opportunity for a curtain call! From Mongo, his hit creation of stage and screened space and creative cavewalls ... to the Music that keeps parts of the South humming a lot more than Dixie . . . all of us here AT THE BIJOU are proud to call his talents and charm the stuff that colleague-ships are made of. Watch for his chapter to call home in the upcoming HARBINGER*33 and a series of broadcast interviews on WLSO.FM with his pal and ours, rockin' Uncle Shag, getting to the heart and spirit of that mighty crew of sensational authors.

The hits . . . they just keep comin' . . . AT THE BIJOU. That's Show*Biz! That's class! That's distinction. Do read up more of Mongo's prehistoric past and futuristic beyond, AT THE BIJOU, where classics come to play ... come what MAY.

~ Absolutely*Kate and our fine staff of renown,
so gosh darn glad you've come around to show off 
your fine mind ... once again!

COME AROUND AND PLACE YOUR $100 (imaginary) BETS AT OUR OFF OFF TRACK PREAKNESS FOR FUN (real) and THRILLS (always real) ... this Saturday,

  when AT THE RACES

wins a place to show

*AT THE BIJOU*!

MOVIE MEMORIES MARCH ON ~ *AT THE BIJOU*

GRIP YOUR SEATS!

MOVIE MAYHEM's

MADCAP MEMORIES

MARCH ON 

with MUSIC MIKE!

*AT THE BIJOU*

WHERE ELSE?

BAD NEWS FROM OUTER SPACE ~ (or: How I Learned to Love the Pods) ~ By Mike Whitney of Harbinger*33

Bad News from Outer Space

(or: How I Learned to Love the Pods)

~ By Mike Whitney

CUE SOUND! CUE SOUND!

^ CLICK MIKE ^ / ^ CLICK MIKE ^ 

Disclaimer: This title is actually a line from a Bond film, ‘You Only Live Twice’. It was spoken by a flunky to the arch villain: ”Boss, bad news from outer space!” Shamelessly stolen for this homage to a great scary movie from the 1950’s, I - folksinger/songwriter - also turned it into a novelty tune in 1978. 1978 saw the first remake of this science-fiction/horror B classic. Another followed in 1993. Neither film worked as well, partly because sequels seldom succeed, and partly because I was thirteen in 1956.   ~ MW

1956

Impressionable teen in the fifties: Elvis, girls, cars, sports, movies. Movies like ‘The Day the Earth Stood Still’; ‘War of the Worlds’; and ‘INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS’. The original was a creature movie starring your family and friends as the creatures. For fright, nothing from a space ship or the Black Lagoon compared with everyone in town talking in a monotone. This was a perfect film for black and white. People looked like your mom and dad but they seemed to lack any emotional capacity. Director Don Siegel – later known for directing ‘Dirty Harry’ - perhaps thought he was making a propaganda piece depicting the horrors of Communism in the fifties. In an interview he referred to the executives at the studio as pods because they edited out all traces of humor from the film. That’s interesting in retrospect. All I saw then was this little boy about my age running down the road out of town screaming, “That’s not my mommy!” And I was sore afraid.  A mother suddenly drained of all emotional response? No love, no anger, no warnings of what will happen when dad gets home? No joy? Terrifying!

Mary watched her favorite aunt

Sucked feet first inside a plant

When you wake up, we’ll all be the same

If you get bored, your pod’s to blame!

1961

I was then a married teenager. My pregnant teenage wife and I were watching a rerun of the film. In five short years, fear had taken on new meaning as our hero Kevin McCarthy stared in horror at his true love from high school, Dana Wynter. To sleep is to be taken over. She had finally fallen asleep and become a pod. I snuck a glance at my wife's growing belly. My thoughts exactly: we have both turned into characters from a B movie. What greater horror could the future hold?

Your double grows from a big seed pod

It takes your mind, and then it takes your bod

From pain and hunger we'll all be free

Come on, pod! See about me!

1978

I was living in Houston when the first sequel appeared. A good cast including early Jeff Goldblum. As usual when Hollywood shows us the monsters instead of letting us imagine them, special effects shock quickly turns to boredom. Pod Donald Sutherland pointing at sole survivor Brooke Adams and uttering the pod squawk in the final scene neatly summed up my critique of the film as well as the Urban Cowboy craze sweeping Gilley’s Bar. First, Saturday Night Fever discoids and Bee Gee ‘bots, now cocaine cowboy cyborgs. Would the seventies ever end?

Your pod will get you. Don’t fight. Don’t weep.

They take over when you go to sleep.

No more feelings, peace there'll be

I can't wait till they get to me

1993

Abel Ferrara directed the third version. ‘Body Snatchers’ was set on an army base where everyone follows orders. Thus, figuring out who the pod people are is all the tougher. But in the wake of ’Terminator2 – Judgment Day, the film lacked any originality or shock value. In February, the World Trade Center was first bombed. Life in these United States quietly and dramatically changed. In June, the film was released in France, but not shown in the United States until January of ’94. I hit the big five-0 this year, and Clinton was dancing on television as the Dow went out of sight.

What if Pod was one of us

Just a pod on the bus

1996

ATLANTA-- July 29, 1996 (ENN) - The FBI said on Sunday that they were pursuing several promising leads to find who was responsible for the bombing in Centennial Park on Saturday morning. 

It’s been forty years and how the pods have grown

They’ve taken over government, big business and they’ve shown

You don’t need emotion to run the seed pod race-

Better keep on eye on the sky for bad news from outer space!

2002

As war looms on the horizon once more, it occurred to me this might be a good time to watch for a rerun of the original ‘Invasion of the Body Snatchers’. Pods without emotions might be a nice antidote to religious fanatics. 

Ambulance Driver: Yeah, Doc, there was a nasty accident out on the interstate.

Dr. Bassett: Bad one, eh?

Ambulance Driver: Yeah, a truck and a car collided. Ya know, it was kinda funny... the truck was carrying a load of the strangest-looking seed pods.

“Mary, come quick! Out here in the garden. Down here by the tomatoes. You see that six foot zucchini-lookin’ thing?It looks just like you.  It’s got your eyes! Look! They blinked! I don’t think we ought to water that one any more, Mary. Mary? Speak to me! Mary!”

You load 16 pods, what do you get…

Hit the road, pod, 

and don’t you come back no more no more

No more no more.

Hit the road, Pod and don’t you come back no more.

Everybody knew you didn’t give no lip

To Big Pod, Big Bad Pod

Bad news from outer space

Peace on earth for the whole pod race

© 2002 by Mike Whitney

*******************************************************************

For a free MP3 of the author

performing ‘Bad News From Outer Space’

in a live performance, send an e mail to: 

 mikelwhitney@gmail.com

Or visit him online at STAYONTHEHILL

*********************************************************************

No salesman will call, no spam or virus will infect your computer, and no pods will appear in your basement or in the trunk of your car. Because It’s too late!

They’re ALREADY HERE!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

WHAT DO YOU SAY ABOUT A MOVIES and MUSIC MAN LIKE MIKE? That he was influenced by the Beatles, Firesign Theater, Leon Redbone, John Prine and Gordon Lightfoot? That he's a writer and a showman and an Indie musician born outta Chicago with the razzamatazz to prove it ... til he classed up his act even more as an Ohio boy now making music with his lady love in the North Carolina hills?

Well sure . . . all of that good, good, good vibrations hype as well as since his 1971 novelty single, Hard to Be Hip and My Best Friend was released, Mike Whitney has written songs and played professionally, from 1970 to 2003. Since then, he has released 3 albums of live and studio recordings. He has a new CD, Temporary Sanity at CD Baby.com and two others. http://cdbaby.com/cd/whitney4  

 

But there's more than high entertainment
where Mike's concerned . . . 

There's the kind of character in this character
you're just honoured (along with 3 million others)
to call "friend".

I do. I am . . . Honoured.

Thanks Mike for this share of pods sweet pods,
be they ever so humble.

~ Absolutely*Kate

and our very fine staff of renown

* AT THE BIJOU *

MONGO ~ HOMESICK and LOIN CLOTH TIME ~ By Mike Whitney of Harbinger*33

Homesick Mongo
by Mike Whitney

The stars over Rudy Valley were bright; it almost hurt to look at them. Mongo's eyes misted over as he hunkered down in front of the dying fire and tossed a branch onto the dwindling embers. Bev was a good mate but since her brain chip upgrade, hair drags from the cave were over.

The Cro-Borg missed his RealParents™, Max and Maxine. He longed for his motherboard's signature dish: groat cluster casserole with onionoid gravy and a frosty tofu shake. For dessert, 20th century Twinkies, still fresh in their cellophane condoms and filled with simul-cream centers.

Time for Two Piece

Loin Cloth with Sleeves

 by Mike Whitney

The velvet storm front moved across the sky, crushing the sunlight like cream cheese in a mixing bowl when chocolate is beaten in. Mongo looked up at the fudge sky as the locomotive wind roared in his face.

Behind it, he heard laughter. He stood on the promontory with unlimited expanses of valley and mountains beyond. When the wind died down, he headed back to the cave.

The wind began to howl. Bev sidled nervously to Mongo's side and they bent together over the fire while the storm outside raged.

"Mongo hate winter," rubbing his bare arms.

"Yes, dear."

© 2009 . . . Author Mike Whitney

Mike, feeling the pull of a new decade, has begun booking gigs in Atlanta for the first time in ten years. Past the music (essence of this fine finesse of a writer*man), comes the resonating power of who Mr Whitney truly is ~  a gregarious soul who creates characters which live on long past their prehistorical futures, past their retirement action (more than even Sinatra ~ Mongo does it ~ "his way") . . . to generate a chuckle (or guffaw?) to readers glistening minds. 

Thanks MusicMike for bringin' Mongo out into the new decade's bright beginning of a beguine. So very honoured your lyrical and strumming refrains are e'er heard (and danced to!) aboard HARBINGER*33, sailing so many grand authors on to further destiny . . . publishing this year!

~ Absolutely*Kate and the fine staff, 

beginning their laugh ~ AT THE BIJOU

DOUBLE*FEATURE THESE CREATURES!

Enchanting Ladies and Virile Gents!!

**AT THE BIJOU**
~ proudly presents ~

DOUBLE**FEATURE
TUESDAY & THURSDAY
of historically futuristic proportions.

Yes, you heard me and you heard me well ~

*****************************************
It's the MIKE & MIKE show
*****************************************

. . . and "OH!" what stories they have to tell!
They leap ahead . . . they go back in time,
they scintillate ... they titillate
and they make your inner clocks just chime.

Yes fine finessing Folks,
gather in your milk duds for these dudes
and careen your popcorn's mighty crunch . . .

I wasn't sure which to run first ~ Mike ... or Mike?
Hmmm, and then, upon three or so reads (they were that good),
I knew in my soul'spirit forth&back,
that Mike had to precede Mike ...
you'll see ... sit back.


ENJOY THE SHOWS!
on Double*Feature Tuesdays & Thursdays
this is the only way it goes . . .

~ This has been an Absolutely*Kate
promotional *joy* for your viewing pleasure

Author Mike Whitney is writer of wit and flair (and flare!) with no words about to give his dogma or even his instant back-to-the-back-to-the-future karma a scare. He's worth more than billowing words aboard the mighty Harbinger*33 to me ~ he's music (playing in the Lido Lounge nightly); he's a stalwart voice in any unnecessary storm. He sees it comin' and calls it like it is and your inner-grin just grows and flows. I'm pretty sure he was on the front cover of your Woodstock album too. Check it - you'll see. And trust me, you want to be part of his audience entourage all the roadie days of your life. *THANKS* Mike for this mighty share. ~ Absolutely*Kate

Now this other open Mike o'Mikes, Author Michael J Solender, is a news'man with a nose that knows what most of the rest of the world doesn't smell coming ~ he's that astute. He's a host with the most over at the esteemed "NOT" ... but more than that, oh so much more to me, he's straight, he's gentle-tough, he's true and true. He tries to switch and bait'ya with his ascerbic notations, but the guy's heart is so big, I wonder if they enlarge doorways in the Carolinas as we had to do upon the premiere literary-witeray voyage of the Harbinger*33 just for him to slip'slide in. And his writing sure does ~ it slip'slides from hard-hitting, cockel-warming news featuring to storylines you never saw coming and then tuck in your back'pocket to bring out again . . . and sometimes, just sometimes, for the crowd's viewing pleasure, the man of wit and tender, can rightly write as chamaleon. Pulitzer? Not yet. But it could be comin'. *THANKS* MJ for this bookended wonder. ~ Absolutely*Kate

RERUNS by Mike Whitney of Harbinger*33

RERUNS

Previously concluded and archived,
hermetically resealed by Mike Whitney
on this veritable day.

Max3.v clicked END/SAVE on the remote. He had been scanning one of his fave flix, and Maxine prepared to hear his review, for the dozenth time. Setting her receptors to NEW and IGNORE, she tuned in with a perfect Holographic sim-smile. It never hurt to be polite. Max was her Life Mate, and their humanoid son was away being re-programmed. Mongo, named after a character in another of Max’s favorite old flix, a strangely repellent depiction of a never-was Old American West.

The character, Mongo, likes candy and manually knocks out an extinct beast known as horse, *(hoofed, herbivorous MAMMAL of the family Equidae, the single living genus of which, Equus, disappeared 1 P.A.)

Silent rotors turned Max to face Maxine in their high rise apartment,

“Isn’t it amazing how accurate “Blade Runner” turned out to be? One of those sci-fi writer predictions of the future that comes closer to how things turned out than Verne’s nuclear sub, or Wells’ time travel device. The Christ-like Michael Valentine Smith of Heinlein’s “Stranger in A Strange Land” with the gritty street smarts shown so well by that dandy pre-Apocalypse film actor, Harrison Ford. Such a shame about the unfortunate voice-over. Happy Hollywood ending, damn escapement fanatics.”

"Max! Chill, dear."

"Sorry!"

Mongo raised his Vadr-Blade and the Modum fell, drawn and quartered, into the shredder. Hence to the Fry Daddy. And floy! Food for three weeks,

"Altered States of Afrosia! Next we take Proximity!"

Another wounded Modum, spurting fluid from his pointing device, shouted, "Over my dead body!" and died. Mongo laughed mansonically, "See? I told you! "

Proximity, capitol city of the former Republic of China, lay in wait for Mongo and his clone hordes. Historically speaking, the people of Afrosia had seen his kind before, and were prepared for deletion to the last pixel, character, and wingding before minimizing to the Barbie at their Gates.

© mikewhitney & RealPeople™ 2009