George R.R. Martin opens a Restaurant

GOGOS GOES at 78 - The Famous Monster of Art Land

Basil Gogos (last name Greek) was one of the first artists most Baby Boomers appreciated. His work was featured on the cover of FAMOUS MONSTERS OF FILMLAND. He was a master of squeamy color and palpable texture. His portraits brought out every gruesome lump and bump, and his imaginative use of color turned most any face into a gruesome landscape.

This is a typical bit of Master Gogos' genius. I wonder what Master Gogos could've done with Lady Gaga. Basil actually did some album covers, but mostly for guys like Rob Zombie, who grew up admiring the man's work.

Famous Monsters of Filmland was popular in the late 50's and through the 60's (thanks to the "monster craze" that spawned "Monster Mash," "They're Coming to Take Me Away," TV shows such as "Twilight Zone" and "Outer Limits," and the Roger Corman Poe films starring Vincent Price). When I was editing ROCKET in the late 70's, I still hoped to add a credit in "Famous Monsters" to my resume, but the mag was struggling.

There were also few horror actors who were either alive, or, such as Vincent Price and Christopher Lee, hadn't been done to death in the pages of the mag. Figuring horror and rock might work, I called up and offered interviews with the ghoulishly-made up rock group KISS. I got through to James Warren, who I knew to be a generous fellow. He had offered a year's scholarship money to my college roomie.

I'll digress for that story. My friend worked summers as a lifeguard, and saved some kid from drowning. It got in the papers, and Jim Warren read about it. He'd always wanted to do something special for a lifeguard, so he called up my friend. The "deal" ended up that Warren would pay for a year's tuition. My roomie told me about this windfall, and said his benefactor was "a rich publisher." He'd never heard of him. He spoke the magic words.

"James Warren???" I said. "That's JAMES WARREN! He's the publisher of FAMOUS MONSTERS OF FILMLAND! And VAMPIRELLA!" Ah, my friend thought, then this is just the guy to help out with a great costume for Halloween. He called up Warren and asked for one extra favor. And Warren delivered: a perfect, precise, expensive full CREATURE FROM THE BLACK LAGOON head.

I got to wear it too. My friend was an amateur skin diver, so I wore his skin diver gear and the CREATURE head, to wander around the campus one day. It was the closest I'd ever come to BEING a "Famous Monster of Filmland."

Well, I called up Jim Warren and pitched my interview idea. I mentioned that I'd once had a fun converation with Gene Simmons all about horror movies. Gene, a rather self-confident person, said, "I know it ALL. Ask me ANY question about horror movies." And I said, "OK, what were the years of the 3 Karloff Frankenstein films?" He said, "1931, 1933 1935." And I said, "Pretty good. Not quite." "No," said Gene, "I got it right." I said, "Well, Frankenstein was 1931, but the gap was longer. Bride of Frankenstein was 1935 and Son of Frankenstein 1939." Gene allowed, "You may be right. Anyway, I know everything about horror films!"

"Gene's a big fan of horror movies and Famous Monsters of Filmland," I told Mr. Warren. And he replied, "KISS uses the SS in their logo. They're a bunch of Nazis."

I said, "The logo was lightning. Whoever designed it, thought that lightning bolts would be cool. That's all that is." "It looks like the SS," Warren said. "Gene Simmons is Jewish," I said. "So is Paul Stanley. Half the band is Jewish." "Then they don't know their heritage. You tell them, I'll fly them to Dachau. I'll show them Dachau."

Things deteriorated from there. My one and only conversation with James Warren had made him simmer with anger, his voice quiet but intense and menacing. "Well...it was nice having a chance to speak with you," I said at the end of all this. "I'm one of your big fans. You've heard it so often, but it's true, I grew up reading F.M. So it was an honor to talk with you." "You're welcome," Mr. Warren replied, with a slight bit of conciliation in his voice.

A little while after that, "Famous Monster of Filmland" held a bankruptcy sale. It was a strange moment, going over to the office on auction day, and seeing the holdings of "Captain Company." The very astute Mr. Warren ran a lot of ads in the back of his magazines, all to sell mail order merchandise via his own company. He bought records, books, 8mm films and toys wholesale, and I think he also commissioned a variety of masks and posters and other items that were exclusives to the magazine. And there they were, being sold off in huge lots...hundreds of sealed 8mm Castle Films of "Dracula" and "Frankenstein" and the rest, and shelves marked off into lots, full of fake skulls and other goodies.

And yes, there was plenty of reproductions of Basil Gogos art, and lots of copies of the magazines. Not all the magazines. "Famous Monsters of Filmland" was one of the first, at least that I ever saw, to market their out of print issues as collectors items. Every new issue seemed to raise the price on remaining back issues, with a few more "SOLD OUT." I learned something else. Never send money through the mail. I didn't have a check book in those days. I waited for my rare copies of "Famous Monsters" and they never came.

Over the years, Basil Gogos did very well thanks to nostalgic F.M. fans. Monster fans such as Rob Zombie commissioned Basil for cover art. A website offered lithograph copies of Basil's work, and he turned up at the usual memorabilia shows. He was one of a select group of magazine artists who were revered by a generation. He WAS the master at "Famous Monsters." The other artists in his class were from "Mad Magazine," with Jack Davis leading the way. Davis not only did a lot of "Mad" covers, he successfully widened his market to include "TV Guide," and record albums (Bob and Ray, Homer & Jethro, etc. etc.) and movie posters.

When I edited RAVE, one fulfilled ambition was to hire Jack Davis. (Basil Gogos would've been, uh, too morbid!) RAVE was affiliated with ABC-TV, and helped on George Schlatter's annual Comedy Awards show. One year, to promote the ABC show, I hired Jack Davis to draw various comedians, including Roseanne Barr, Gary Shandling and Robin Williams, all grabbing for the Award, ala "Mad Mad Mad Mad World." My art director had good news and bad news. Yes, he was able to get Jack Davis to do our cover. That was the good news. The bad news? His price tag was my entire budget for the issue.

OK, I wrote the magazine myself that month. It was worth it. I said, "I'm just so glad to get Jack Davis. It'll be so great to have an actual piece of Jack Davis art, too." My art director said, "No, no, I'M taking that Jack Davis art. I'M the ART director." This could've led to a fist fight, but as it turned out, Jack's contract stipulated that HE owned his art work, and it had to be returned to him.

Jack Davis and Basil Gogos were probably the two most successful magazine cover illustrators of their era. Oh, there were others who were Artistic with a capital A, like Tomi Ungerer, and fetishists collect the paperback book cover art done by Stanton or Ward. A few older guys like Mort Kunstler (whose son was a college pal) have art gallery showings and even get commissions to create U.S. postage stamps, But if you had original art on Basil or Jack, you had an investment! And you'd never sell.

"Lying Hillary" is late, too, and SO MEAN TO BOOK FANS - spins the Post

We all know the NY Post is right wing. In some ways it's good (they LOVE to dis Mayor DeLousio for such things as allowing nude idiots in Times Square and panhandling morons in trademarked cartoon and superhero outfits). On other ways, not so much.

Like Huffity-Puffity and so many "fake news" websites, the Post promotes its columnists (people who simply have an asshole and an opinion) as being reporters. That's not the same thing. When you REPORT, you are supposed to be factual. When you're a columnist, you can slant your ass off (while remaining an asshole).

Maureen somebody or other delightedly went down to Barnes & Noble to slant a piece on Lying Hillary, and how egotistical and awful-awful-awful she is. Why, she MADE people stand in line in the heat (it was balmy). She had special rules (no different than any other celebrity doing Barnes & Noble signings) and she didn't personalize the books or pose for selfies (and most celebrities at these signings DON'T).

What an ego. She holds up a copy of her book. Authors shouldn't be proud of publishing a book, or showing people what the cover looks like so they can find it in a store. Has Maureen written a book? Done a signing? Had people waiting on line all morning? I guess not.

This is what the media does. It spins. If it does it AGAINST Trump, it's "fake news." If it does it against a Democrat such as Hillary Clinton, why, it's all right.

For the record, and I've been to dozens of Barnes & Noble signings (from Mike Tyson and George Foreman to Rudy Giuliani and Bill Clinton), wristbands are always handed out, and fans are warned only a limited number of books are available and that the author won't be around all day. To guard against eBay gouging, the number of books anyone can get is always limited when it's a big name. Also, to avoid gouging and time-wasting, most stars do NOT pose with idiots for selfies, and do NOT sign photos, toys, DVD covers, older books etc., just so parasites can make money on eBay.

Maureen here grouses that the point of Hillary's evil book signing was to push her book to #1. That's the point of Caitlyn Jenner's book signing, and William Shatner's book signing and EVERY book signing involving a major celebrity who was paid huge money to have a book out. Maureen also whines that Hillary is involved in "surcharging" at events. You mean, like William Shatner demanding $150 to sign something at Comic Con, and looking pretty sulky about signing his own book for list price?

Again, most celebrities "generically" sign books. It saves time. I was at a Bill Cosby signing. Some guy begged, "Could you write To Susan, I want to give it to her as a birthday gift!" A Barnes & Noble employee next to Bill instantly interrupted, "No personalizing." To which Bill called out, "Nice try!" Which got a laugh.

Sometimes, even with "generic" signers, you get a bonus. Rudy Giuliani and I had a nice minute or two talk about old New York Yankees players, and no Barnes & Noble employee dared to say, "Let's keep the line moving" to the mayor. Bill Clinton? He also took time to be a bit chatty, and he shook hands with everyone. I mentioned to him the irony that his competition was Darrell Hammond, signing books at another Barnes & Noble at the same time. Bill said, "Sometimes he does me better than me!"

And so the spin goes. Clinton "sauntered in." I think, if I was catty, I could've said that when Chita Rivera arrived for her signing, or Jane Fonda, or my own sister. One might argue that all women "saunter" into their book signings.

She "sat down and started signing." WHAT A TERRIBLE THING TO DO IN BARNES & NOBLE WHEN PEOPLE ARE WAITING TO GET THEIR AUTOGRAPHS AND GO HOME!

"She's not going to speak?" "This is all you're getting." The bigger the celebrity and the longer the line, the less likely the speech. And haven't we all heard enough Hillary Clinton speeches? Mike Tyson didn't speak. George Foreman didn't speak. William Shatner didn't speak. Michael Caine didn't speak. Bill Cosby didn't speak. And no, Bill Clinton didn't speak either.

If it's anti-Donald it can't be real news.

And remember, COPYRIGHT MEANS...Shit.

As Facebook and YouTube teach everyone, on the Internet, it's not called stealing.

A big thing on Facebook is closed stealing dens called "groups," where people can hide and exchange links to music files and movies. Here's one on everything 60's, with a disclaimer along the top.

See, it's OK to use copyrighted material as long as you tell people it's copyrighted.

At least, that works on the Internet. Not in the real world.

In the real world you can't walk out of the restaurant without paying the check, saying "I only pay if I really like something. That meal was for evaluation purposes only."

If you walk out of the bookstore with a shelf of non-fiction books, you can't tell the security guard, "Information should be free!"

And if you grab a dozen Snickers bars off the counter at 7-11, and toss them to a bunch of children and start eating one yourself, you can't tell Habib, "I'm sharing! You should thank me for being so generous. Maybe next week some of these kids will come in and buy something from you."

Of course, in the REAL WORLD, people make money only if they SELL things.

On the INTERNET, big companies like Facebook and Google (owners of YouTube and Blogger and a search engine that leads people to torrents) make money by letting people steal copyrighted material.

Ebay, the biggest fence on the Internet, certainly doesn't want to stop petty larcenous stooges from selling the entire Stephen King collection on PDF, ePub and Mobi for three bucks. "It's up to Stephen King to get his ass off Twitter and send in a DMCA," is their attitude. Every Internet company makes sure their takedown process is complicated and loaded with hoops. Or as Paypal says, "You must download our PDF form, fill it in, and upload it even though all of the PDF writing disappears when you try and send it! HA!"

Over at YouTube, owned by Google, they don't mind if people admit that they're stealing. They won't knock off a post just because somebody admits "hey, I have no right to post this, and no copyright, but I'm doing it anyway." PS, Google is proud of their CLOUD service, which is how all the eBay bootleggers sell their PDF, ePUB and MOBI dupes: "I will send you a link to the Google Cloud so you can download your purchase. PS, any other books you want, let me know and we'll do a private deal!"

Did you read the excuses? "I don't own copyright to the games its for ur enjoyment." And "No copyright infringement intended...copyrights are the property of the respective owners."

When you don't automatically shut down items that have ridiculous caveats, you are telling people that copyright is SHIT.

The purpose of copyright is for the creator to control its use. "I own this movie. I license it and get paid. Or, I should." "I wrote this song. I'd like some royalties." "I took this photo. It does me NO good to see it used all over the Net. If I want to sell it to a newspaper or have it appear in a book, the reply is 'why pay for what everybody's seen?' And they buy a photo that hasn't been ABUSED."

Try explaining copyright to cheap bastard, malicious twits who are jealous of creativity, or ignorant fools who grumble, "Dont ruin our fun!"

Copyright, like the Emancipation Proclamation, is a fairly new legal concept designed to prevent slavery and victimization. But, Copyright Owner is a slave to the owner of an illegal torrent, forum or blog.

There are entire nations that don't believe in copyright, and they have created safe-havens for people to do everything from knock off movies and Gucci handbags, to set up websites for demeaning pornography aimed at every female celebrity on the planet and blogs that post new music every day. Russian websites even allow people to sell cheap downloads of books, music and movies using credit cards or bitcoin, and Capitalist countries don't even try to block this, because of powerful lobbying from the Internet giants that now dwarf all publishers, TV networks and movie companies in terms of power.

If you use a certain word to describe a person of a particular race or creed, you could lose your job. People get upset. But if you say "I don't own copyright, I just decided I can give this away," nobody is offended. Certainly not YouTube, which doesn't state, "Do not post copyrighted material without permission. We will ask you to provide proof of licensing and if you can't, you will be suspended."

Zuckerberg's Facebook and Google's Blogger (aka Blogspot) allow people to create a thieve's den and then "close" it to the eyes of copyright owners. Tell Google, "This blog, with closed membership, is allowing people to download hundreds of copyrighted music albums," and the form letter response is, "Give us specific URLs or go fuck yourself." How do you give specific URLs when the blog is closed and only "trusted" members are allowed in? Copyright owners are restricted...like Jews trying to get into certain clubs.

Jews are no longer restricted. Quotas on them (only a CERTAIN number being allowed in a particular college or university at one time) are gone. Use the "N" word and you're toast. Women have gotten most newspapers to ban the B word and put in "B...h" instead, and the "C" word has NEVER been allowed. But there's another C word. It's C with a circle around it. It stands for COPYRIGHT. It might as well stand for CLOWN, because it's being laughed at.

MADE YA LOOK! NY POST's Freak Pandering Gets da Clicks

CLICK WHORES.

That's what you've got at the NY POST. As well as the Huffity Puffity Post. Breitbart. Decider, Plagiarizer, Re-writer, Newser, and the rest.

It's all about getting traffic and getting those almighty CLICKS. "See how many people looked at our idiotic article on McGregor's bulge? On Kardashian's ass? On any wardrobe malfuntion we coyly censor? Doomsday headlines that just speculate on something bad happening? Horror stories that actually aren't?

"Advertise with us! We need more idiot Banner Ads flashing. More TV screen pop-ups. Don't worry, we'll find ways of making people endure all this crap and see your worthless ad!"

Today's scare was...ooooh, look at those hands! This guy is a rowing star. He'll never row again.

At least, that's what the HEADLINE suggested.

The article went into dire detail about how a bunch of rowing nitwits were out to break world records (for navigating a boat in icy waters, or something) and their equipment gave out. They were stranded for days with no relief from the cold. Eventually they made for land.

And the happy ending? Our rower with the horrific injuries...healed.

That's a creative way of making something out of nothing. You can imagine the smirking at the New York Post: "This should grab attention!" "It'll make people look, ha ha!"

"World Famous Poet" Dies - Anyone name one of his Poems?

Do you suppose one in ten people know who John Ashberry was?

Do you think the ONE person in ten could quote a poem Ashberry wrote? I think that ONE person in ten would probably just say, "Oh, John Ashberry. He was a poet." Ask him to say something else about the guy, and what would you get? "I think he was married to Sylvia Plath. Maybe I'm wrong."

Quite wrong. Ashberry was gay (not that there's anything wrong with that).

Something IS wrong with nobody really knowing or caring that a "world famous poet" died. There was a time when this mattered. It was big news when Carl Sandburg died. And Robert Frost. Then again, they actually wrote poems, not crossword puzzles. Anybody with some intelligence could enjoy their poetry.

Poetry has degenerated into word games. Archaic, pseudo-intellectual, "try and figure this out" word games. Have you read any of Ashberry's works? No, you probably haven't. Now you can be enlightened. Here are three examples. Let's see how much you enjoy them or even understand them.............

Entertained? Enlightened? Do you now have a better understanding of the human condition?

I realize that this may seem like bad Shakespeare ("I come to bury him, not to praise him") but I think Johnny's obit would've been more wider read and LONGER if he wasn't so obscure. Here's the entire AP obit:

Very nice. He won the book world's "unofficial triple crown." Does that mean that you wouldn't have a long, long day if you knocked on doors and asked "Anybody got a copy of "Self-Portrait in a Convex Mirror?"

Can anyone name a living poet? No, no, my Hallmark card-loving friend, Maya Angelou died in 2014.

A Pulitzer Prize recently went to Bob Dylan, much to the chagrin of obscure poets who've written obscure books that got praise in obscure review columns.

We could consider Bob Dylan a living poet. Some of his stuff is a bit obscure now and then, but at least you can get SOMETHING out of it. Even if it's an uneasy chuckle: "The sun's not yellow, it's chicken!"

Look, if you couldn't figure out every line of Bob's lyrics at least you could enjoy the music. You could say the same thing of Keith Reid's "A Whiter Shade of Pale" or Bernie Taupin's "Take Me to the Pilot." I interviewed Billy Joel once, and he pointedly said, "I won't call myself a poet." Maybe he didn't want to be associated with a profession in disgrace, one rotting in the dusty embrace of professors who have atrophied a lot worse than J. Alfred Prufrock.

The sad thing about modern poetry is that it's more Jackson Pollock than Dali or Picasso. With Dali or Picasso, you may not fully understand what it all means, but it gives you a gut feeling. You have an emotional reaction. If you don't walk away with a profound interpretation of every symbol, the excuse is "well, it's expressionism. It's surreal. It's dada." It's SOMETHING.

Jackson Pollock spilled paint. That's all he did. Too often, all modern poets do is spill words. THEY may pretend they didn't do it at random, but they sure as hell did it in some state of altered consciousness, and without taking drugs as an excuse. It's just pretentious pseudo-intellectual riddling.

You probably haven't heard of Spike Hawkins. He was a contemporary of Anselm Hollo and Pete Brown (yes, the poet Pete Brown IS the same guy who wrote lyrics for Cream and for Jack Bruce). His stuff didn't exactly make sense, but at least it was short. It also gave you some kind of reaction:

LIGHTS SEEN

the rainbow hid in the car
until the car stopped
and the man got out and threw
away his entire family

And you know something's happening, but you don't know what it is. Do you, Mr. Jones?

OK, I prefer Spike Milligan, but I could enjoy a little of Spike Hawkins once in a while. It's easier to take an oddball poem by Hawkins because nobody gave him a Pulitzer Prize or praised his word games as the pinnacle of modern poetic achievement.

Ashberry was lucky. He may be the last poet (not lyricist) to be acclaimed in his lifetime for his obscure work that nobody could understand. It's not likely to happen for the creatures whose poetry appears in The New Yorker.

The Pulitzer Prize-winning Bob Dylan has been an icon for over 40 years. People have published books with nothing but photos of the man. Posters of Bob Dylan are on many a wall. Sometimes he's been called "Jokerman," but that's cool. Ashberry? Call him "The Riddler," because he looks like one.

Maybe, like royalties, the literary world simply has to understand that SOME things aren't going to be part of our world any longer.

This includes poets who can reach the average person the way Poe, Dickinson, Whitman, Kipling, Service, Sandburg, Ginsberg and Frost did. Yes, I'm giving you a good cross-section there. There's art even in something that rhymes, and his romantic, like "The Highwayman" by Alfred Noyes, and you can enjoy it as well as you can enjoy e.e. cummings.

Poetry has descended into drivel (the kind of things you hear when a "poet" is asked to recite at a Presidential inaugural) and into stuff that only appeals to a small circle of condescending prigs.

Guys like Ashberry are neither sentimental nor pornographic nor emotional. They are cold, which is not a trait one associates with a poet.

Poetry is no longer what it used to be: poetic.