Radio Memes and the Radio Party

Before the Internet had memes like the Heineken Looter, radio had memes (of course, before radio had memes, cave paintings had memes as well, so let’s not all bow at once over creating them or we’ll bump heads).

Here’s one of radio’s memes, translated into film, which seems odd, but so it goes:



I’m sure the young set out there has no idea what this is. And after I explain it to them, not many of them will care. But this was big, baby, big. Fibber McGee opens his infamous closet and – whoooo – all that stuff falls out. Hilarious. Really. I promise.

Yeah. So if you don’t get that, maybe Cokesbury’s Radio Party isn’t for you. But it should be. Those who ignore the past are not only doomed to repeat it, but also doomed to miss out on a lot of great comedy.



This was the “Pants on the Ground” of the day. All done WITHOUT Internet distribution. We didn’t need fancy desktops or wi-fi or iPhones or the iPad. We had radio and that’s all we needed and we liked it!

Week Thirty-Nine: Halloween Party

Do you remember the killer spook alley you put together with your friends in your Dad’s garage when you were eleven years old? Remember how cool that was, with the eerie sound effect recorded playing in the background as your friends wandered through, getting spooked by your closer friends in dopey costumes, fans blowing gunk in their faces, and such? I hope you kept the plans. . .



. . . because you’re going to need them:

Initiation. Guests should be met at the door by a witch and conducted through a dark passage with a flashlight which is turned off most of the time. This passage should be infested with strange noises like grunts and groans and screams and the hooting of owls. A witch or ghost in the passage extends to the guest a hand which is a glove stuffed with ice-cold sawdust. An electric fan may be arranged in the passage so that it will blow strips of paper into the passing guests. Dress up someone as a dog, in crepe paper, with an improvised tail and false face. This dog should jump out and bark at the passing guests. Weird noises can be made by dragging chains over the floor. One of the ghosts may use a feather duster to tickle the faces of guests. A ghost on stilts has a terrifying effect. One of the ghost guides tells of the death of a friend and directs the hands of the guests to parts of the body. These are placed on plates, and the plates are on chairs or tables. The eyes are represented by two hulled grapes, the tongue by a raw oyster, the heart by a piece of liver, the lungs a wet sponge, the brain a dish of spaghetti.

But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Perfect party planning involves, first of all, getting together the proper items needed to have the party go without a hitch. This is what you’ll need for Cokesbury’s Halloween Costume Extravaganza, in addition to friends willing to show up in costumes:

Lard
One raw oyster
Charlie Brown Halloween sheet
Chewing gum
A box of toothpicks
Spanish moss
Stilts
One glove, electrified
Sawdust
Ice for the sawdust
Flour

And what better way to augment that epic list than with two epic and traditionally irksome Cokesbury party invitations?

If friendly ghosts you’ve never seen,

Come to our house on Halloween

From seven to eleven the hours to stay,

Dressed up in such as unfamiliar way

That we won’t know you from we don’t know who,

But over your costume don’t worry and fuss,

Just dress in a way that will puzzle us,

Either spooky or fancy or all in a muss.

Our home in the trees with fun we will fill,

Reply if you please. Yours, Mildred and Bill.

Remember, for the sake of rhyme, it’s better if you and your spouse go change your names to Mildred and Bill right now. No, I don’t care who you call Mildred.

For this next invitation, Cokesbury says, you’ll need some “small owls and witches” from the five-and-ten-cent store. I can only assume they mean paper owls and witches, since I refuse to believe that, even in the 1930s, such items could be purchased in bulk outside of Hogwarts. Nevertheless, place one owl at the top of the page, with two witches at the bottom. Ink your invitation thusly:

On Friday evening, October twenty-third

The intermediate Endeavorers will meet this wise old bird.

At the witch’s den you’ll meet your fate,

At eight o’clock. Now don’t be late.

One hundred thirty-five Atlantic Avenue, Palm Beach,

is where you’ll have this Halloween treat.

Wear a mask to hide your pretty face,

And be on hand to take your place.

There’ll be cats and ghosts both great and small,

And a jolly good time will be had by all.

Cordially yours, The two (pictures of witches).

This second invitation presents several problems to the would-be party-thrower. Though Palm Beach sounds nice this time of year, it’s hardly practical to throw a Halloween party there when you live in, say, Firth, Idaho. And it’s always a red flag warning to me when someone has to say in their invitation that you’ll have fun if you attend the party. To me, that’s a given, unless, of course, you’re going to a party hosted by SpongeBob SquarePants. Or Roseanne Barr:



Wait a sec. @ 1:03, who decided to invite this guy:

On that note, it’s time to introduce your friends to the ghastly ghouls you’ve also invited to the party, viz:

Meeting the Queen of Halloween. After the guests are brought into the room where the party is to be held, hey should be directed to the Queen of Halloween. The Queen of Halloween is seated on a high chair and has a battery connected to her hand charged with a slight shock. When they shake hands they receive a shock. This will be very amusing to those who have proceeded and will cause much merriment.

Bluebeard’s Den. Have an adjoining room for Bluebeard’s Den. Get some girls or women to pose as Bluebeard’s seven murdered wives. They are arranged behind a shoot through which holes have been cut large enough for them to get their heads through. Red paint or red coloring of some kind should be sprinkled over the sheet. The faces of the girls should be powdered so that they will look ghastly. The light should be dim. Bluebaeard is impersonated by a man who pantomimes the way he killed his wives. He may kill one with a hatchet, cut off one’s head with a butcher knife, shoot one with a toy pistol so that it will make a report, choke one to death, stab one, etc. As he goes through the motion of killing each one in turn, they let out a scream. This screaming and the report of the pistol attracts the attention and excites the curiosity of the guests in the adjoining room. The guests should be brought in about four at a time. If the number of guests is not large, bring them in two at a time.

In other words, it’s kind of like a live version of a Scooby Doo episode, but without the chase scene in which the gang flits from door to door in a hallway, barely missing but eventually encountering and de-masking the villain. Oh. And no bad ‘60s pop music, either. Unless you really want some.



Your next game should make the germophobes in the clan happy, especially if you suggest a model-swap and chew afterwards.

Modeling. Give each guest a piece of chewing gum. They are to chew this gum. Give each one a cardboard about four inches square on which is written the name of something they are to model. Pas around toothpicks which are to be used as tools with which to do the modeling. Some suggested models are: airplane, automobile, lame, horse, cow, church, witch, jack o’lantern, turtle, cat, etc.

Next, Cokesbury insults you be assuming you don’t know how to divide by four:

Apple Contest. Divide into groups of four each. This can be done by counting off 1,2,3,4. Give each No. 1 an apple and a paring knife. No. 1 is to peel the apple and pass it on to No. 2. No. 2 must quarter it, No. 3 core it and drop it into a bowl of water. No. 4 must take it out of the water and eat it. The quartet that finishes first wins.

This is true: Your party planning has reached a nadir if you engage in this game in a non-ironic manner. If, however, you have a lot of guests and a lot of apples you want converted into apple pie filling for bottling, having the game repeat several times and having your guests count off by three so the apple eater is eliminated could help you get out of a rather nasty fall chore.

And speaking of nasty, now, we get to the lard of the matter:

Floating a Needle. Give each couple needles. Provide some lard to great them with and bowls full of water. See which couple can make their needles float. After the needles have floated, it is humorous to watch them. They will do strange things that will cause merriment. They may cling together or go to the opposite sides of the bowl.

Ever notice how much stuff that goes on at a Cokesbury party “causes merriment?” Now, I’ve been to a few Halloween parties, and I can think of many things that “caused merriment” that didn’t involve greased-up needles, including the post-Halloween moment when one of the more drunken attendees woke up the next morning in bed with a bearded man. Neither one of them were too happy, especially after the photos surfaced. Good thing this was in the pre-Internet days, or I might be able to find them even as I type.

One more game to round out the evening:

A List of Bad Omens. Give a prize to the one who can write the longest list of bad omens or superstitions. Have the one who has prepared the longest list in a given time to read his list. Others may be asked to read other superstitions not read by the winner. The following is a list:

1) Don’t wipe on the same towel with anyone else. It means you will fight.
2) Don’t start anything on Friday. You will never finish it.
3) It is bad luck to return to the house after you have left it for a journey.
4) It is bad luck to hear a dog howl at night.
5) Don’t kill hogs on the decrease of the moon; they will fry into grease when you put them in the pan.
6) Throw an old shoe after newlyweds.
7) If you put on any garment wrong side outward, it is bad luck to change.
8) It is bad luck to sneeze before breakfast.
9) It is bad luck to rock an empty chair.

Of course, the worst omen possible would be that the host consulted the Cokesbury Party Book (or this humble blog) as a guide in planning his or her party.

Some of these omens confuse me. Did the believers in No 3, then, believe it was better luck to torch their house and, upon returning from their journey, buy a new one? Or was there a kind of statue of limitations on the omen. Suppose I went back home after two weeks. Would that be okay, as opposed to returning after only 15 minutes’ absence? The anal retentive and gullible need more clarification. And as for No. 6, am I allowed to hit the newlyweds with the shoe, or is that considered bad form? And is bad form worse or better than bad luck? And No. 5 deserves a peer-reviewed scientific study, not like the stuff they’ve done at the MET or for the IPCC.

Now, on to the details. Cokesbury includes the next item almost last, which seems kind of backward, but then again, I’m not a party-planning genius from Palm Beach circa 1932. They must have had sentient pumpkins and cornstalks back then, too.

Decorations. At this season of the year there are always decorations on sale at the bookstores and the five-and-ten-cent stores. You will want crepe paper in orange and black with some red. Black cats, skeletons, and paper jack o’lanterns should be in evidence. The lights should be dimmed with crepe paper or by the use of colored bulbs. In sections where they can be obtained, cornstalks and pumpkins will aid in decorating. In tropical sections use Spanish moss.

Now it’s refreshment time:

Refreshments. Serve any convenient refreshments. Pumpkin or apple pie would be good. Use Halloween napkins. Paper plates of Halloween design may also be secured. Orange and black candy may be used as part of the refreshments. Ice-cream may be secured in Halloween colors. Cookies in shape of moon, cat, or witch may be used.

That’s right. Go ahead and use some of the apples your guests just peeled, cored and quartered for you. They did the work, so they deserve a little pie.

Wow, boys and girls, wasn’t that scary? Whooooo, I thought so. Almost as scary as Count Floyd’s spooky chiller story, “Slinky: The Toy from Hell.”



And be sure to tune in next week – literally – for Cokesbury’s romp with that amazing, funky new technology at its Radio Party. So be ready for some static, I guess.

Spooky Chiller Halloween Party Preview. Owooooo!

Somehow, given Cokesbury's track record on parties, I get the sinking feeling that their Spooky Chiller Halloween Party is going to turn out something like this:

Cokesbury's opening lines for the party kind of set up the lameness of the whole evening:

Halloween affords a splendid opportunity for a delightful party. As unconventionality is the keynote, the occasion is conducive to a genuine good time. Withces, ghosts, devils and elves have their inning and wander about at will.

Wow. Can't wait. Sounds like your stuffy old junior high school English teacher trying to get you excited about reading "Silas Marner." I hope Ed brings his entire Count Floyd's Scary Stories collection on VHS.

NOTE TO STUFFY ENGLISH TEACHERS: I have read, and quite enjoy, Silas Marner. I'm also rather partial to Steve Martin's adaptation of this delightful George Eliot novel, "A Simple Twist of Fate." So back off.

Week Thirty-Eight: Athletic Party

There’s a thrill in good old football.

What a thrill one feels

When a player makes a touchdown

With the whole gang at his heels!

Same is true of good old baseball

When a player makes a run;

But you’ll get a thrill at our party

And have a lot of fun.

Nice Hat, Mr. Nagurski

Yes, we He-Men and She-Women are here to honor the might of our, uh, mighty athletes for their skill and dedication. (Hey Bernie, cue the clip!)



And what better way to honor your local football or baseball team for their awkward, leather-bound, scraggly-limbed victory than by engaging in party activities that resemble sporting events, but in name only. Such as playing a round of Random Utensil Golf?

Bean Bag Golf. As the guests arrive they are divided into couples by the leader and matched to play bean bag golf. The game is played in the following manner:

Different kinds of vessels and utensils are set around over the house or perhaps hung on the wall or placed on top of the piano, and these are numbered as the eighteen holes of a golf course. Have someone get from the country club in your city enough score cards for your guests and change these numbers to fir your course. For example, if the score card shows a 500-yard hole with a five par, you might change this to five yards, three par. Each couple marks their own score, which score is the number of throws it takes each one to get their bean bag in the vessel The rule of the game is that they must stand erect when they toss the bean bag; and if it falls in a place where they cannot stand when they throw it, the penalty for moving it will be one stroke.

The game will create a lot of good, wholesome fun and will consume from twenty minutes to half an hour.

To Cokesbury’s credit, this is the first time in nearly 300 pages that they use the word “wholesome,” which I figured would be featured in every party, certainly much more than whistles and five-and-ten cent stores.

Additionally, I appreciate their use of the word vessel, which always brings this to mind:



Today, we’d probably say container, not vessel. ‘Container’ just doesn’t have that magical ring to it. “The pellet with the poison’s in the container on retainer . . . no, the container on the hanger has the pellet with the poison . . . uh, forget it. I’ll just run into the hills like the Maid Jean said.”

But let’s move on from such obscurities to other obscurities, viz, the naming of athletes:

Cut out from the sporting page of the newspaper or from baseball and golf magazines the pictures of well known athletes, such as Babe Ruth, Bobby Jones, Bill Tilden, Jack Dempsey, and Helen Wills. Also there might be included pictures of those who are prominent in their connection with athletics, such as Conney Mack. Number these and pin them on the draperies and place them about the room. Give slips of paper to the guests, and have them identify these athletes. Give a prize to the one getting the largest number correctly.

Give an even bigger prize to writers who don’t use adverbs in a superfluous manner and who can spell the name of sports-associated greats correctly.

With that all done, it’s time for another bean bag game, because tossing around light bean bags while chatting insipidly with your cohorts is what honoring athleticism is all about.

We could move on to the next game, Bean bag baseball, but as your guests are already tuckered out from tossing around the ol’ beans in bean Bag Golf, we’ll move on to something more exciting. Like this:

Blindfold Boxing Match. This is an excellent fun-maker, but must be carefully handled by the leader. Get two pair of boxing gloves, put them on two boxers that have been chosen, draw a circle, put the boxers inside the circle and carefully blindfold them. Turn each of the boxers around several times, so they will lose their sense of direction, and blow the whistle for the fight to start. They should be blindfolded so that their heads will be protected in case either of them should happen to get hit, but this is not the intention at all. The intention is to have them so widely separated that they cannot hit each other. Have two or three boys act as teasers, and make them think that they have found each other. After the gun has gone long enough, give both a prize as the winner.

Be sure, folks, not to pick trained pugilists for this game, as the teasers – lacking the protection your average, run-of-the-mill blindfold can offer in a boxing match –a re likely to get cold-clocked if a real boxer happens to make contact. And you might consider even among the untrained masses whether it’s a good thing to pair up, for example, two individuals who have had a running animosity between them. Oh, whatever happens, I see this game ending in tears.

To conclude our series of games meant to honor athletes and athleticism, let’s play a game that required virtually no athletic skill whatsoever:

Balloon Volley Ball. Stretch a string across the room about six feet from the floor, or if the ceiling is high, it is better to have it even higher than this. Inflate a toy balloon to use for the volley ball. Each side tries to keep the balloon from touching the floor on their side. If the ball touches the floor on their side, the other side scores a point. Ten points will be sufficient for a game, the first side winning ten points being the winner of the game.

Another way to play this is to forbid the use of hands, allowing players to strike the ball only with their heads. This should not be played, however, with a mixed group.

That last sentence really confuses me. What mixed group? Ladies and gentlemen? That begs the question – why should a game where groping and poking is not allowed suddenly be banned from mixed group play? Are we afraid that men, robbed of their hands, will engage in French-style head-butt lunges in order to come in contact with the “toy” balloon, which you should use as opposed to he industrial balloons you could smuggle home from the workplace? I just don’t get it.

But that’s okay. It’s time for refreshments, which you can dole out once your guests have picked their refreshment partner, which is done by having the men hide behind a curtain and extend their “athlete’s foot,” which the female counterparts must pick to find their refreshment partner. Refreshments, by the way, are “things generally found at athletic games” such as peanuts, pop corn, cracker jack, bottled drinks, and ice-cream cones. If y’all eat your treats in a sitting position, it’s likely that you’ll have hosted the first Athletic Party at which none of the guests broke a sweat.

That’s it until next time, when we get to see Cokesbury’s Spooky Chiller Halloween Party. Owoooo! Owoooo! Heh heh heh. Sorry. Suddenly channeling Count Floyd there.

Ah, Sport, Georgie-Boy!

Ah, sport. And American Sport, on top of that. What could be more wholesome? More life-affirming? More Republican? Well, not watching sports, if you ask George Babbitt – a Sinclair Lewis character we’ve neglected here at the Cokesbury Party Blog for quite some time, and I do apologize for it.

Here’s ol’ Georgie’s interest in sports (read the whole thing here):

Baseball, he determined, would be an excellent hobby. “No sense a man’s working his fool head off. I’m going out to the Game three times a week. Besides, fellow ought to support the home team.”

He did go and support the team, and enhance the glory of Zenith, by yelling “Attaboy!” and “Rotten!” He performed the rite scrupulously. He wore a cotton handkerchief about his collar; he became sweaty; he opened his mouth in a wide loose grin; and drank lemon soda out of a bottle. He went to the Game three times a week, for one week. Then he compromised on watching the Advocate-Times bulletin-board. He stood in the thickest and steamiest of the crowd, and as the boy up on the lofty platform recorded the achievements of Big Bill Bostwick, the pitcher, Babbitt remarked to complete strangers, “Pretty nice! Good work!” and hastened back to the office.

He honestly believed that he loved baseball. It is true that he hadn’t, in twenty-five years, himself played any baseball except back-lot catch with Ted—very gentle, and strictly limited to ten minutes. But the game was a custom of his clan, and it gave outlet for the homicidal and sides-taking instincts which Babbitt called “patriotism” and “love of sport.”

Lewis, of course, uses sport and Babbitt’s lukewarm fascination with it as a way to show Babbitt attempting to forget his disaffection with life. What better way to show such disaffection than by throwing a party? That’s what the Cokesbury Party Blog is for, folks. Disaffection in an Affectionate Manner!

Athletic Party Preview -- DON'T HIT ME!

Before you completely flip out, yes, I know Leni Riefenstahl made propaganda films for the Nazis. Even though propaganda, in of itself, is not an arrestable offense – because if it were every actor, actress, writer, pundit, broadcaster and talking head would be in jail right now, sitting in the same cell with Rollo the Mad-Dog Rapist – I know I could have chosen a different film clip to promote next weeks’ Athletic Party at the Cokesbury Party Blog.

But look at the technique here. The camera angles. The focus on the shadows, rather than the persons. Quite remarkable. For a propagandist. Which, if you get right down to it, is what I am. A propagandist for the Cokesbury Party Book.

Week Thirty-Seven: Alphabet Party

Oh, those punsters at the Cokesbury Party Book. Check out how they introduce their, ahem, unique party idea this week:

A novel idea for a social is an Alphabet Party.

I’ll pause a moment while you’re lol-ing all over the place. Huh? Well, you know, novels, they’re . . . you use an alphabet to . . . okay, so it’s not that punny. Maybe not even intended as a pun. But you do have to agree with Cokesbury: an Alphabet Party is certainly a novel idea for a social. Especially if you charge attendees two cents for each letter in their full name, in order to defray party expenses, but come on, how much can sandwiches and ice cream cost?

On to the first game, which is a real corker:

What Letter Is? Each one is given a mimeographed or typewritten sheet of paper on which the following questions are written with the answer left blank:

What letter is

1) An insect? B
2) A large body of water? C
3) A naughty letter? D
4) A slangy letter? G
5) Our busiest letter? I
6) A bird? J
7) Part of a house? L
8) Familiar with Emma? M
9) A verb of debt? O
10) A vegetable that rolls off the knife? P
11) A clue? Q
12) A drink? T
13) The letter you love best? U
14) What green apples do to you? W
15) A sheep? U
16) Direction for a horse? G
17) The questioning letter? Y

This game kinda reminds me of this great Bugs Bunny joke:



I have to confess I tell this joke all the time, and always end it with the “hyuck hyuck hyuck” that Elmer Fudd tacks on. This is why I’m PERFECT for the Cokesbury Party Book.

The game also brings this popular tune to mind. Sing it with your guests if they've really got a wild hair and want to get their groove on, yo.



But then of course Cokesbury is taking the alphabet very seriously here. Kinda like James Earl Jones does in this early, kinda creepy clip from Sesame Street:



He really looks a bit beatnik-ky in this clip. Imagine watching this late at night when you’re really tired and a bit freaked out by the thunder and lightning and that weird creaking your house makes when it’s windy out. I’m getting the shivers.

Yes, the alphabet is serious in Cokesbury land. Here’s your next game to prove my point:

Dumb Spelling Match. A number is selected for this dumb spelling match, or if the group is small the whole group participates. When one spells a word incorrectly, speaks a letter when he should make a sign, or makes the wrong sign, he must sit down. The object is to see who can stand up the longest.

With me so far? Too bad. Because I’m confused as heck. Maybe they explain further:

Words are pronounced by the leader, and should be selected in advance, those being chose that have large number of vowels in them. These are spelled by those participating by speaking the consonants and making the following signs for the vowels: for A the player holds up his right hand. For E he holds up his left hand. For I he points to his eye. For O he points to his open mouth. For U he points to another player. If any of the vowels are spoken, if the wrong sign is given, or the word is spelled incorrectly, the player must be seated. Spell down.

Okay. So aside from not really knowing what they mean by saying “Spell down” at the end of the description, we’ve also got a party built to offend those who are hearing impaired. I’ll give this to Cokesbury: Party after party, they find ways to offend. And this is beyond any modern political correctness; it’s just being mean.

But forget that. You want your Alphabet party to be whimsical. Entertaining. Like this one, thrown by the Three Stooges:



Note when the Stooges encourage the “girls” to sing along, the one guy in the audience takes no offense; he sings too. We need more of this kind of cooperation in the world. Maybe that’s what Cokesbury was trying to achieve with this game:

Spelling Fun. Divide into two, three, or four groups. Each group is given an alphabet on cards six inches square with duplicate vowels. If the group is too small to give each one a letter, the leader should give some two letters. If this is not desirable, take out letter such as Q, Z, X, and J that are not so frequently used before distributing the alphabet. It is not necessary to have a whole alphabet for this game. Each group selects a leader. The object is to see which group can spell the most words in a given time. There should be a scorer selected in advance; and if you have four groups, there should be two scorers. The scorer gives each group a mark for every word spelled. The words are spelled by the leader suggesting the word and the players who hold the letter arranging themselves in the proper order to spell them. Every word spelled counts one score or tally for the group spelling it. The winner has the largest number of tallies when the whistle blows.

Sesame Street purists like me, of course, are cringing. When you do the alphabet, buddy, you do EVERY SINGLE LETTER. You can’t do something like this by skipping those not-so-frequently used letters:



This next game reminds me of a joke a friend of mine liked to tell about how people speak in Tennessee, speaking of doing everything politically incorrect:

A,B,C,D Fish. Much amusement can be caused by the following display of letters which have been written on a cardboard in advance b y the leader:

A B, C D fish.
L, M N O fish.
O, S A R fish.

Of course, you know the answer to this one:

Ask the group to read what is written on the card. Perhaps someone will be clever enough to read it: Abie, see de fish. ‘Ell, ‘em ain’t no fish. Oh, ‘es ‘ey are fish.

And so on. Here’s that longer bit, from Tennessee:

M R snakes.
M R not.
S A R 2. C D EDBD I’s?

You have to say “EDBD” very quickly for the best effect. And I could go on like this. But I won’t. Because traffic here at the Cokesbury Party Blog is pretty dismal and I don’t want to drive my loyal followers away.

Now it’s refreshment time. And there’s a game for it:

Ask the guests what they want to eat. Tell them for an answer they must arrange themselves in formation so as to spell out what menu they want. There will be much fun as they try to get each other into formation. This can take place while the food is being prepared. Serve anything that is thought suitable.

But unless you’ve got a grocery store and a bevy of short order cooks on hand, just do what Cokesbury does and serve alphabet crackers with punch or tea, or apple pie a la mode, despite what your guests spell out. After all, if they spell out caviar, they ought to be bright enough to bring it with them.

Next week’s party is excruciatingly more active than this one. Put on your runnin’ pants for Cokesbury’s Athletic Party.