"Tippacanoe and Tyler Too" was a popular song from the presidential campaign of 1840. The tune has faded but the slogan remains. My classmates and I used to chuckle about it at St. Mary's elementary school. According to Wikipedia, William Henry Harrison led the Battle of Tippecanoe, fought against indians in the Indiana territory in a bid to expand U.S. territory. His running mate was John Tyler. Harrison was the first president to die in office, succumbing to complications from pneumonia only 32 days into his term in 1841. Today at Yahoo there was an interesting, fun item on his successor. Here's an excerpt, edited a bit by me:
John Tyler was born in 1790. Tyler fathered Lyon Gardiner Tyler in 1853 at age 63. Then, at the age of 71, Lyon Gardiner Tyler fathered Lyon Gardiner Tyler Jr. in 1924 and four years later at age 75 Harrison Ruffin Tyler. Both men are still alive. That means just three generations of the Tyler family are spread out over more than 200 years. President Tyler was also a prolific father, having 15 children (eight boys and seven girls) with two wives. He even allegedly fathered a child, John Dunjee, with one of his slaves.
You go, Mr. President!
Even a bad B movie is preferable to a political speech. With the State of the Union Address dominating most of the channels in my basic cable package last night, I turned to a DVD Marie gave me - The Brain That Wouldn't Die (1962), a cautionary tale familiar to fans of monster flicks: a scientist experimenting on humans. Only the star, Jason Evers, survived having appeared in it. He compiled over 100 credits, at least 80% of them in TV. His lovely co-star, Virginia Leith, barely had 20. The best/worst scene was a poorly choreographed fight between two buxom middle-aged strippers, who between them had three credits. I put the disc the on display for the first time today at the floating bookshop. Sure enough, a young Latina purchased it, while her mom bought a book on Finches. Gracias, chicas.
Abdul the Friendly Porter, bless his heart, wheeled over a shopping cart full of books. Unfortunately, of the 100 or so, most were obscure histories. I found 10 I think will sell, including a pictorial on gladiators, some spiritual stuff, and a comprehensive look at Jack the Ripper. As I was sorting through the pile, I heard one of the porters from my complex say: "Loco." I bit back the urge to respond. No one realizes the insanity of the artist's life better than me.
Now playing on Martini in the Morning: Marilyn Monroe singing Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend.
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http://members.tripod.com/vic_fortezza/Literature
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