Canned Dragons

The third edition of John Brady’s This & That. zine reached my mailbox this week. As I read through it, I thought about the slower pace of communication from the past. In the book Of Human Bondage by W. Somerset Maugham, the residents of a small British town at the turn of the 20th century share a newspaper, each taking shifts throughout the day.

Soon after breakfast Mary Ann brought in the Times. Mr. Carey shared it with two neighbours. He had it from ten till one, when the gardener took it over to Mr. Ellis at the Limes, with whom it remained till seven; then it was taken to Miss Brooks at the Manor House, who, since she got it late, had the advantage of keeping it.

There’s something quaint and romantic about having such little and proscribed access to information. It’s almost the exact opposite of what we have today, with the glut of news and entertainment that we can barely hold off.

I was skimming through this Discogs article on comedy records the other day and came across the 1980 Rodney Dangerfield album No Respect. The a-side is a monologue called “No Respect” and the b-side is a monologue called “Son of No Respect.”

A colleague of mine, who grew up in Mumbai, India, went to see Back To School, starring Dangerfield, on the first date with her now husband. Their marriage, like many in India still, was arranged. Going to a movie with him at that point was kind of scandalous. She stopped at a bodega on the way to the theater to let her mother know of this indiscretion.