IF I GET MY HANDS
ON A DOLLAR BILL…
You could still get your hands on a dollar
bill in Canada in 1992. Examples of our lowest denomination of paper currency
remained in circulation, even five years after the introduction of the coin
affectionately known as the “loonie”. (It says something about what it means to
be Canadian that we’re at ease with the idea of giving money the same name
you’d apply to someone on heavy meds in a straitjacket. I try not to think too
much about what it says, though. That sort of thing gives me a headache.)
As you’ve probably figured out by now, Episode
#2 of Vasco da Gama is all about
money. This is a subject I have lots of experience with…mostly in theory. I used
to have a vague notion that money is something you’re supposed to have, and an
even vaguer notion that, if you put enough time and trouble into something
like, say, making a fully-produced radio comedy show for the spare-time enjoyment
of the general public, you really ought to be paid for your time, your trouble,
or better yet, both. The pattern that’s established itself during my life in
the lively arts suggests that this actually amounts to something less like a
notion and more like wishful thinking…if that.
Well,
never mind. I’d have spent any money I made by now, anyway. Back to the subject
of patterns…if you’ve listened to the first episode of Vasco (and if you haven’t, by all means do), you’ll notice some
patterns starting to emerge. I thought it was important to establish a set of
ground rules early on to give the series a sense of continuity—but mostly to
give me an excuse for breaking them any time I felt like it. Such is the iron
discipline of the seasoned comedy writer.
But back to the iron discipline of the
seasoned blog writer, and therefore back to the patterns. One of them is a
standard plot, which can roughly be summed up as “Rob encounters a problem
created by people who complicate it by trying to fix it”. Going hand in hand
with that is another of Vasco’s
emerging patterns—forgetful, easily distracted, but well-meaning
late-middle-aged men in positions of authority.
Speaking of which, you won’t have to
listen too closely to hear that this episode’s Mr. Klamm is essentially Mr.
Skeffington from Episode #1—right down to the voice. I forget if this was
because I wanted to give people the impression that Vasco had a rep company of stock characters who showed up in
different roles, or because I’d forgotten that I’d used the voice in the previous
recording session. Such is the iron discipline of the seasoned voice actor.
Iron discipline or not, one voice you won’t
hear doing double duty is Mojo, Rob’s perma-stoned doorstop of a roommate.
Where else could you slot in a guy whose entire life consists of listening to
psychedelic rock music while consuming psychedelic drugs…or anything that looks
like it might possibly have some sort of mind-bending properties?
In case you’re interested (and let’s say
for the sake of argument you are), I wasn’t on anything psychedelic when I
wrote the scene set in the bank. I just had Gabby Hayes running through my
brain. (If things like this don’t happen to you, I feel sorry for you. It helps
to pass the time.) When you have Gabby Hayes running through your brain, it
isn’t long before you think—or say—to yourself, “Gabby Hayes—running through my
brain”. If it’s my brain, the next thing that happens is that you realize
you’ve got a Jimi Hendrix lyric. I’ll let the other members of the Vasco cast pick up the story from there:
IAN McKAY: I forget who, but somebody needed a full explanation of
who Gabby Hayes was as well as who Jimi Hendrix was.
KEL PERO (née Morin): Yes! I think I needed the explanation. I
remember the song, though. At least I know Hendrix.
ROB VINCENT: I think it was whasisname the assistant tech guy, who
had the bright suggestion of putting on Purple Haze under the soundtrack,
because people wouldn't get the joke otherwise.
IAN McKAY: Sagebrush and a prairie sky ... Excuse me while I shoot
bad guys!
Well, there’s a surprise spoiled for all
of you. I should have put the link to the episode at the top of this posting to
keep stuff like this from happening. As long as I’m giving stuff away for free,
here are a couple more explanatory notes:
- For internet listeners (readers? whatever.)
tuning in (clicking in? whatever.) from outside Canada, a T4 is the standard tax
form for individuals. It’s our equivalent of the American 1040 form, the
British Whatever-they-call-it form, the Australian I-don’t-know
what-they-call-it-any-more-than-I-know-what-the
British-call-theirs-but-someone-from-Australia-will-know-what-I’m-talking-about
form, and so on and so forth.
- And, for those of you who feel like
expanding your literary horizons, Mr. Klamm’s name isn’t just an excuse for puns
about shellfish. It’s an homage to a character in Franz Kafka’s The Castle, a novel whose protagonist
gets swallowed up by an impenetrable, inexplicable bureaucracy. It seemed like
a good fit for a story dealing with the fun and frolic that lurk around every
corner in the worlds of consumer banking and taxation.
Oh, and here’s one more of those emerging patterns
I was talking about: during the bank scene, Rob can be heard valiantly
straining not to laugh as he delivers the line after Gabby Hayes sings Hendrix.
This is the first audible example in Vasco
da Gama of the in-studio corpsing that made recording sessions enjoyable—and
sometimes time-consuming. It came to be known as “Kormaning”—another homage,
this time to Harvey Korman, the Carol
Burnett Show cast member who was in perpetual danger of collapsing into
uncontrollable giggles when paired in a sketch with Tim Conway. (Thanks to Ian
for the reminder on this one.) Whenever it happened in a Vasco session, all but the guilty party would immediately chime in
with a rousing cheer of “KORRRRR-MANNNN!!!”
I probably shouldn’t be fonder of those
moments than I am of almost any others in the whole Vasco da Gama experience. Such is the iron discipline of nostalgia.
But enough about that for the time being. The
memories are starting to flood back on me. If it’s possible to Korman while
writing, I’m about to do so. Time to leave you with that link I’ve haven’t
gotten around to putting in yet.
Well, that’s it for now—and if it isn’t,
it doggone well oughta be. I can’t tell you everything before you listen
to this stuff, you know. There has to be some reason why you’d want to find out
what Richard Wagner and Greta Garbo are doing in that bank along with Gabby
Hayes.
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