Time Magazine and the writers who actually made the cover, 1920s edition.

As should be obvious, Time Magazine is a news source, most famous these days for naming their Person of The Year every late December and...not much else. Ask your grandfather what it was like to read Time back in the 1950s. It was something then.

To be on the cover was almost considered an honor years ago when the magazine started in 1923, only for the most noteworthy, notable, and noted individuals in the world. Politicians, religious figures, scientists, dictators, athletes, business leaders, and celebrities the world over all made the weekly cover. And, occasionally, so did writers. It's true! Writers were once famous and important.

In the coming weeks, we'll note the authors, playwrights, and journalists--writers in general--who made the cover of Time and made writing seem important, briefly, during various decades

Starting with the 1920s:


1.)  It only took until the sixth issue for a writer to appear! Sadly, it was Joseph Conrad, but we'll take what we can get,

Joseph Conrad, April 7, 1923

2.)  Later in the inaugural year, George Bernard Shaw made the cover, giving his typical creepy grandfather stare.

George Bernard Shaw, December 24, 1923

3.)  Eugene O'Neill popped up in 1924, showcasing his usual perturbed faced that looks like he's five seconds away from lashing out at someone innocent.

Eugene O'Neill, March 7, 1924

4.)  Amy Lowell was one of the few women to make the cover in the 1920s, and she's randomly shown reading in what appears to be the world's most uncomfortable chair. Because, why not.

Amy Lowell, March 2, 1925

5.)  Booth Tarkington offers the least intriguing cover ever in 1925.

Booth Tarkington, December 21, 1925

6.)  In 1926, Time gave us a quick answer to a bar trivia question, telling us H.G. Wells was also known as Herbert George Wells.

H.G. Wells, September 20, 1926

7.)  You can tell it was the 1920s simply because it was common to show people casually smoking on the cover, as Rudyard Kipling does in 1926.

Rudyard Kipling, September 27, 1926

8.)  Sinclair Lewis realizes this might be the most famous he'll get and seems despondent in 1927.

Sinclair Lewis, March 14, 1927

9.)  Michael Arlen was widely famous in the 1920s, but commonly referred to as "Whosa who?" these days.

Michael Arlen, May 2, 1927

10.)  Eugene O'Neill was a hot commodity in the 1920s and made a second cover. As we can see, his temperament didn't change. What a charmer!

Eugene O'Neill, February 13, 1928

Saturday Morning PSA of The Week: And he'll learn how to grow a sweet mustache from watching you, too.

Today's public service announcements are all information and no imagination--but yesteryear's? Those were full of drama, plot lines, and cameos from B-grade celebrities, all wedged into one minute of absolute fantasticness.

Consider this a trip back in time to when PSAs were sometimes worth watching more than the Saturday morning cartoons.

This week's PSA:  Suburban kids keep their pot in stylish wooden boxes.




Random Thoughts and Questions:
1.)  The kid's choice in music is a greater concern here. And his drumming ability.
2.)  Admittedly, at first I thought Dad was showcasing a fine selection of Cuban cigars.
3.)  "ANSWER ME!" Well, maybe he'd answer you, Pops, if you gave him a chance to speak.
4.)  Mom found the stash and is now nowhere to be found. Good parenting.
5.)  I think we all know a man from the 1980s with a mustache like that was down for some toot.

In other news, Big Brother knows you're reading 'Mein Kampf' and/or are cheap.

Having a jones for failed Austrian watercolorists with bad mustaches?

Be careful what sort of books you're downloading to your eReader because, as The Guardian notes, most have a terms of service that document what you're reading, free or not.

Fascist mass-murderers memoirs aren't the only thing they track. They track your penchant for Fifty Shades of Grey, too.

Admittedly, you like some weird stuff.

3D technology in the classroom: All the excitement of watching Avatar without trying to understand how those floating islands worked.

The Wall Street Journal reports that 3D technology is all the rage in classrooms these days, mainly as a means to keep students entertained.

Generally, 3D projectors are used in science classrooms--you know, to show planets circling the sun or a dissected frog's organs.

It doesn't have much practical purpose in an English classroom. "Okay, kids," the English professor might say, "get your 3D glasses on. You've never read Shakespeare's The Tempest until you've read it blurry."

I liked it by the fifth time I read it.

A comic inspired by literary figures is making rounds on the internet lately. It's from Hark, a vagrant, a website by a woman named Kate Beaton. She's from Canada, which means she's probably amazingly nice, abnormally polite, and really hardy in cold, inclement weather.

She also makes comics of famous historical subjects. Like this one, where Edgar Allan Poe gets a letter from Jules Verne.

Village People singer fights for ownership of Y.M.C.A. song lyrics.

Victor Willis, former lead singer of the Village People--and who, I assume, moonlights as a casual motorcycle cop on occasion--wants to own the rights to his share of the lyrics he wrote for "Y.M.C.A."

In essence, Willis wrote the songs while under the thumb of a big, bad record company. The record company owned the copyright for 35 years, per United States law. Now it's been 35 years since "Y.M.C.A." became a staple of low rent weddings and third rate bar mitzvahs, so Willis filed paperwork to get his ownership share back for writing parts of the song. It could be worth $120,000 a year in royalties for him.

Of course, the big, bad record company doesn't want to give it up--even if Willis is partly the author of the song. They wouldn't be a big, bad record company otherwise. They say Willis wrote the song while he was essentially a work-for-hire employee, that the group was a concept they created, so Willis's words are not...well, his own.

So, now the case goes to court, and should be critical in deciding copyright law over what right an author of song lyrics has over his work while working for a company.

But the one thing the Village People never have to fight for? Staying sexy in leather.

So, in other words, she's saying I have a chance...

TheFrisky.com is a website that, until tonight, I'd have assumed was devoted to all that is fabulous about Friskies Cat Food. (Chicken Supreme Senior Formula? Tell me more...)

But then a friend sent along a link to Amelia McDonnell-Parry's post Approval Matrix: Sexy Vs. Unsexy Hobbies For Dudes, which was entirely weird for a cat food website. Are we really debating the merits of Mr. Whisker's catnip hobby?

Instead, TheFrisky is about Love. Life. Stars. Style.--aimed at a decidedly female demographic. In other words, how I roll.

So what does this Sexy Vs. Unsexy Hobbies For Dudes have to do with me and The Toolbox?

Blogging, according to McDonnell-Parry, is lacking a certain, shall we say, je ne sais quoi. Blogging is behind standup comedy, ultimate frisbee, ice skating, competitive eating, parkour (eh?), origami, knitting, taxidermy, capoeira (what the?), erotic photography, and iPod DJing on the sexy scale.

BUT--but, but, but--blogging beats out playing marbles, unicycling, and ventriloquism.

Which is like saying I'm a male smoke show compared to guys with puppets. Get in line, Howdy Doody, get in line.




Photo / graph: TheFrisky.com

BYU Code of Conduct isn't a fan of your manscaping skills.

Brigham Young University has a Code of Conduct--which they call an Honor Code. Most schools have one--except most schools don't ask you to keep the hipster sideburns above your earlobes. BYU? Yeah, they're not a fan of your Neil Diamond look.

BYU is in the news this week because that very same Honor Code laid down the law on a student athlete who was caught sleeping with his girlfriend. Yes, as stunning as that sounds, it appears 20-year old male college athletes are having sex. And sleeping with your long-term girlfriend at BYU means you'll be suspended from playing basketball for them.

As a result of this, BYU's Honor Code--with all its intricacies and quirks--has come under national scrutiny. But forget national scrutiny--what about Toolbox scrutiny? We'll look at various school's codes of conduct on occasion--starting with BYU.

1.) Brigham Young University

Their Dress and Grooming Standards for men states (my thoughts in parentheses):

A clean and well-cared-for appearance should be maintained. (How about wearing SpongeBob pajama pants to class?) Clothing is inappropriate when it is sleeveless, revealing, or form fitting. (So you're saying the SpongeBob pajamas are good?) Shorts must be knee-length or longer. (Short shorts of the 1980s were a very painful fashion trend for BYU.)

Hairstyles should be clean and neat, avoiding extreme styles or colors, and trimmed above the collar, leaving the ear uncovered. (And if you're someone like Prince Charles with protruding ears, you don't even need to worry about this.) Sideburns should not extend below the earlobe or onto the cheek. If worn, moustaches should be neatly trimmed and may not extend beyond or below the corners of the mouth. (Good news, Tom Selleck!)

Men are expected to be clean-shaven; beards are not acceptable. (But you haven't seen how fashionable my neck beard is yet!) Earrings and other body piercing are not acceptable. (So much for those diamond stud earrings that really bring out my eyes.) Shoes should be worn in all public campus areas. (I guess that means four inch stiletto heels are a go then.)

Then there's the whole issue of visiting friends at their dorm. Do you want to drop by and say hello? You might not want to after BYU tells you what's acceptable.

1.) Visiting opposite sex friends is permitted only in lobbies of on-campus residence halls...
2.) ...unless it's during open house hours.
3.) Then you can visit the dorm room...
4.) ...but only if the dorm room door is open.

But wait! It gets better if you live off-campus. According to the Code regarding off-campus housing:

Visitors of the opposite sex are permitted in living rooms and kitchens but not in the bedrooms in off-campus living units. (No word on what to do if you live in a studio apartment.) The use of the bathroom areas by members of the opposite sex is not appropriate (you and your small bladder are just going to have to wait...) unless emergency or civility dictates otherwise (really, I just drank too much Diet Pepsi, I swear...), and then only if the safety, privacy, and sensitivity of other residents are not jeopardized. (Note to self: do not eat the black bean fajita at lunch.)

So, in essence, BYU's Honor Code boils down to this:

If your bladder is weaker than Jay Leno's comedy, and you look like the lovechild of Ralph Waldo Emerson and Bob Vila, then BYU would prefer you attend college elsewhere.

Cockroaches need better PR.

If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times: cockroaches have a high-society sense of style. It's the media's biased reporting that has labeled them with stereotypes about their daily habits.

Finally, a book has come out showing cockroaches for what they are: the Gisele Bundchen of the insect world.

It's time people realize that Jiminy Cricket isn't the only bug that looks good in haute couture.

Scripps National Spelling Bee / Skripz Nahshunul Speling Beeee

The Scripps National Spelling Bee concluded last week. This was great news for medical schools across the country, which had gone nearly an entire week without any applications from 13 year-olds looking for early admittance.

But it wasn't without controversy. The troubles?

1.) Two groups protested to get their names in the media try and streamline spelling. The American Literacy Council and the London-based Spelling Society begged for attention protested outside the bee, claiming that American spelling structure makes little sense. They advocate spelling "slow" as "slo" and "fruit" as "froot." One thing is for certain. Toucan Sam approves:

2.) Judging controversies broke out during the sixth round, when--halfway through the round--organizers decided all remaining contestants would move onto the final round. (This excluded the kids who began the round and misspelled a word.) Why? Because ABC television needed to fill two hours of spelling bee awkwardness excitement, and 13 year-olds can only spell so slowly. Round six was apparently slaughtering the sensibilities of proper vowel etiquette, and television executives worried they'd run out of spellers by the time prime time television kicked in.


3.) Canada!!

That's right, Canada has once again shown a complete disregard for worldwide language treaties with their illegal spelling immigration and placed one of its young citizens into the National Spelling Bee of America. The young girl from Toronto, Laura Newcombe, swindled judges with her complete lack of arrogance and attitude, and openly flaunted her Canadian-ness with smiles and politeness. In a complete lack of American spirit, she came in fifth place, and--get this--smiled at being the fourth runner-up. What's worse is that she projected a typical Canadian stereotype: she thanked her competitors. If she's trying to act American, well then, she's doing a horrible job at it.

Even worse, Canadian media--with its Canadian-leaning propaganda--had this headline on Canada.com:

CANADA FINISHES FIFTH IN WORLD EVENT.

Don't they even realize what it is to be American?!?

Super-Disguise Mustaches!

Not much needs to be said. The Bronte sisters get the action figure makeover.



Remember, folks: pudding not included.

Spelling out the differences...

1.) Awkward: adj.: Lacking dexterity or skill; lacking ease or grace

The National Spelling Bee concluded the other day. The dirty little secret of the typical English major is that none of us really know how to spell. (See: Spell-check Gone Rogue.) Sure, we read a lot, but none of us can spell a lick. If the word is polysyllabic, there's 75% chance any English major will throw a misbegotten vowel in there just to jazz up the word a little.

That's why English majors often look dumbfounded at the National Spelling Bee kids. All of these kid contestants say they want to become doctors, scientists, physicists--any profession that requires a complete lack of imagination along with a six figure income. Despite their mastery of spelling, none say, "Gee, Bob, I want to be a writer some day!"

Each kid always seems a little socially awkward up there as well. No matter how hot and bothered I might have gotten over some Sir Gawain and the Green Knight action, I can happily report that neither I, nor any other English major, has passed out from the moment like this kid.



Look at this kid go down! Joe Frazier hit the mat with more grace after Muhammad Ali cocked him. Down goes Fraz--AH! Down goes Fraz--AH!! And no fellow spelling bee friend even moves from their seat to help him. Those kids are cutthroat. They'd cut you in a dark alley for your lunch money with that kind of mindset. (I'll give the kid credit. He spells the word after getting back up. Apparently his fall jarred the letters loose in his head.)

I'm also happy to report that if any English major started sucking wind like this kid, one of our fellow chums would have come over and lend a hand after we took a dive.

2.) Mustache: noun: The hair growing on the human upper lip, especially when cultivated and groomed.

Another great mystery with the spelling bee is the sheer number of 12 and 13 year old boys sporting mustaches. I wasn't sporting that much facial hair at 21. Yet these kids look like they're just a few years away from doing a Just For Men commercial. I couldn't have even tried to grow a mustache at 13. The sparse hairs on my face that remotely qualified as peach fuzz needed seven coats of shoe polish to thicken and darken them to make out a shadow of facial hair.

I'm not suggesting there should be drug-testing in the spelling bee. I'm just saying some of them are juicing, and I don't mean a V-8. 'Roids, my friends. I'm saying the kids are on mental 'roids.

3.) Militant: adj.: Very active or aggressive in support of a cause.

These spelling geniuses also have another thing going for them that many English majors do not: militant families. English majors by and large come from much more independent minded families. We're the hippies of education. We revel in the free love of books and writing. The libraries are our communes. College is our Woodstock. Whether or not we choose to dabble in tie-dyed shirts is another matter, but we English majors rarely frown on it.

But these spelling bee kids come from the Fascism school of thought. Forget Mussolini making the trains run on time, these families demand perfect memorization of giant 10,000 page dictionaries. Your friends want to play with you? Stop your foolishness! These families demand the child memorize the binary etymological route of words in the cold encasement of the family office, far from sunlight or human interaction.

The only emotion many of these kids come across is when they see the word "love" in the dictionary. And even then it's a foreign premise to them.

4.) Defeated: noun: A bringing to naught, frustration.

The moment of truth for 99% of the contestants is when they finally spell a word wrong. It's a quick walk backstage to their parents, who are not waiting with open arms half the time. You usually only see this kind of cold rejection by family on an episode of Montel Williams.

Here, again, is where English majors differ. If you write a crappy essay or story or poem (or blog post!) as an English major, someone will tell you they like it and love you. There's always someone--anyone--to tell you you're special. English majors only learn this type of defeat and rejection when publishers and editors rip your latest manuscript apart. But until then? You're always loved.

And it's not just a word you see in a dictionary.