When I was in college, my roommate and I were fans of Firesign Theater. We were especially fond of their album featuring a parody of an old time radio mystery show. This piece was entitled "Nick Danger, Third Eye." We could recite nearly the entire piece, word for word. If I had studied my physics as much as I listened to this album, I would probably have been able to invent time travel. I apologize, Richard Collier, I can't help you get back to Elise McKenna. (It occurs to me that my use of the word "album" dates me, doesn't it?)Anyway, while watching a particularly graphic movie the other night, I started thinking about the way the movie industry has stripped us of our imaginations. We are bombarded in each and every one with graphic images of sex, blood/ gore, extra-terrestrial life, the spirit world -- and everything in between and beyond.
We don't listen much anymore -- we watch. Not that watching is bad -- it just limits us. I guess that's one reason I like to read. My imagination can conjure up more hideous looking monsters and more beautiful and sexy heroes than the FX people and central casting can come up with.
Especially when coupled with sound effects.
The radio sound effects people would squeeze a box of cornstarch to make the sound of a man crunching his way through the snow, and crinkle cellophane to simulate a crackling fire. There was always music to set an appropriate mood. A good cackle or blood-curdling scream could make your imagination go wild. Sex was easy -- you just make some smacking noises, breathy sighs and then cue the organist.
I wish there were still radio mystery shows to listen to.
Butler: "Why don't you come in out of the cornstarch and dry your mukluks by the fire.
Let me introduce myself: I am Nick Danger."
Danger: "No, let me introduce MYself: I am Nick Danger."
Butler: "If you're so smart, why don't you pick up your cues faster."
Danger: "Oh, are those my cues?"
Butler: "Yes, and they must be dry by now -- why don't you pull them up out of the
cellophane before they scorch."
